If your passion is local journalism, there's no place like home | A note from the editor

A friend of mine caught me off guard recently with an apology.

In a conversation five years ago that I barely remember, he expressed disbelief that I returned to Cincinnati after working for our national flagship, USA TODAY.

“I shouldn’t have said that – it’s been bothering me ever since,” he said. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

I told him no apology was necessary and that he wasn’t the only one who raised an eyebrow. Mostly, the ribbing came from my Washington-based colleagues.

“You’re moving back to O-HI-O?” was a common refrain, dripping with that endearing air of East Coast snobbery.

As I wrap up my fifth year as editor of The Enquirer, I’ve been reflecting on that decision – one I would make again in a heartbeat. I did have my reasons, I told my contrite friend. I thought it might be worthwhile to share them with you, too.

There's no place like home

I wasn’t born in Cincinnati, but I did go to high school here. My first stint at The Enquirer started in the late 1990s. My career has taken me to small-towns in Michigan and Iowa, the high desert of Nevada and to Metro DC. Serving as editor of the Reno Gazette-Journal made me understand how leading a newsroom effectively requires a certain level of emotional investment in the community. You need to care. Fortunately, I fell in love with Northern Nevada and its people. But in the back of my mind, I thought about how rewarding it would be to return to The Enquirer and lead a newsroom in the city I proudly call my hometown. I’m grateful, and that sense of good fortune drives me on even the most challenging of days.

Never a dull moment

Cincinnati a happening news town. The same attributes that make this community a desirable place to live (big-city amenities with small-town charm) make it a rewarding place to be a journalist. We have a fascinating history and revered institutions. We’re home to Fortune 500 companies, baseball’s first professional team and a marathon whose name was inspired by statues of winged pigs. And the people ­­– a cast of characters who aren't afraid to make news. One of the best parts about my job is meeting many of them, even if the circumstances aren’t always pleasant.

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I’ve had the privilege (it’s a badge of honor among journalists, actually) of being yelled at over the phone by former Mayor John Cranley, who on that particular day was not pleased with a story we were pursuing to show how campaign contributions often get tangled up in development projects. The story hasn’t even run yet, I thought. What’s he going to do if we actually publish it? But here’s the thing – taking heat is part of the job. That's what happens when you ask the tough questions. And Cranley and I have something in common: We both care about this city and are equally passionate about our work.

By the end of the conversation, civility had returned. The former mayor and I have a good rapport, and I enjoy bumping into him from time to time. And proving he doesn’t hold a grudge, he just last week sent an email praising one of our reporters, Sydney Franklin, for the in-depth story she did on affordable housing and the future of the city’s West End neighborhood. Unlike other places I’ve lived, there’s a genuine understanding here that despite our differences, we’re all in this together. I hope we never lose that.

The struggle is real

Last week, the news industry itself was the object of some bleak headlines. “CNN begins layoffs amid economic uncertainty.” “NPR to impose near-freeze on hiring as budget cuts loom.” “Washington Post ends its Sunday magazine, eliminates positions."

Gannett, the parent company of The Enquirer, also announced cost-cutting measures. Last week, we eliminated two positions in our newsroom. And when I say positions, I’m talking about people. Colleagues. Friends. It was a tough week.

I’ve written about the challenges newspapers in particular have faced after the digital revolution upended a decades-old business model. But what does not kill us makes us stronger. And I’m driven by the challenge of preserving local journalism in the digital age. Why?

Local journalism matters

Don’t get me wrong. I thoroughly enjoyed my time at "The Nation's Newspaper." It was exciting and competitive, and I’m proud of the work we did. But nothing beats the intimacy and impact of local news. As a wise editor once told me, every national story is local somewhere.

Enquirer journalists have brought you the most comprehensive coverage of the year’s biggest news events. The Bengals reaching the Super Bowl for the first time since the late 1980s. The corruption trial of former City Councilman P.G. Sittenfeld, and the first trial in the horrific Pike County Massacre.

But good local journalism also holds up a mirror so we can take an honest, unvarnished look at who we are. We’ve dug deep into the culture wars being waged in school board meetings. We’ve explained how outside investors have pushed up home rental prices, and how fake prescription pills laced with fentanyl have led to an increase in overdose deaths locally.

Stories like these aren't always pleasant to read. But they’re important, and they give us the opportunity to focus our collective energy on making our hometown a better place. If we have the will.

Local journalism matters.

And that’s a big reason I jumped at the chance to do the work I love at The Enquirer.

Enquirer Executive Editor Beryl Love writes a biweekly column that takes you behind the scenes at The Enquirer. Occasionally, he shares his thoughts on local issues, particularly as they pertain to a free press and government transparency. Email him at blove@enquirer.com. He can’t respond personally to every email, but he reads them all.

This article originally appeared on Cincinnati Enquirer: Enquirer editor Beryl Love column Cincinnati local journalism