The Independent Life

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TWENTY-FOUR MONTHS: It’s been a little over two years since I went over to The Santa Barbara Independent, and people are still asking how I like it here.

Frankly, I had no idea I’d still be at The Indy, life being what it is these days. But I’m still enjoying this new side of journalism with bright people half — or a third — my age. Rather than rule by some rarely seen imperious personage, I like the idea of the staff rubbing elbows with the two people who own the paper, Marianne Partridge and Randy Campbell. For some reason Marianne and Randy always seem to be in a very good mood.

On the Beat

I’m amused by emails among the staff addressed to “Indymugs,” rather than those cold memos circulated at corporate cube farms.

I get a kick out of Marianne’s Wednesday afternoon news meetings, which should be televised on Channel 17 for her raucous wit and Nick Welsh’s wisecracks, inside scoop, and gossip.

I don’t recall any staff meetings at the Santa Barbara News-Press where staffers came in flip-flops or barefoot and sat on the floor, and where guys wore shorts and earrings. But then, Indy stories aren’t boring either, and I’m impressed at the cutting-edge work the mugs turn out, probing the community and world we live in.

I love a paper with no sacred cows, at least none that have laid smelly pies on my office floor. Oops, I no longer have an office. Space is at a premium at Indy offices on West Figueroa Street, and I rarely used my half of the room, so my computer was moved to the busy newsroom, where, since I seldom got there either, a summer intern is making higher and better use of that desk than I could.

I prefer to work at home, anyway, always handy to help my wife Sue with chores, especially when I’m on deadline. A few things may surprise you. First, Marianne, the editor-in-chief, doesn’t tell me what to write. She says she likes to be surprised.

But there’s a glassed-in office where a group of sharp-eyed young people edit my copy, no doubt rolling their eyes when my stuff blips up on their screens, rolling dice to see who has to read it to correct scads of grammar, style, spelling, and other errors along with scrambled syntax and murky meanings.

Another thing you might not be aware of is that The Indy publishes not only on Thursdays but every day of the week via its Web site, independent.com. All kinds of breaking news and in-depth stuff shows up, there. Thanks to the Internet, we don’t have to wait for the printing presses to roll. For instance, one recent Saturday while I was at my (home) computer between Sue’s calls to duty, an email from Mayor Marty Blum hit my screen. No, she was telling the city staff emphatically, she was NOT resigning, despite insinuendos in a News-Press editorial column.

I was able to knock out a story quickly and, since the office was closed, fire it off to co-owner Randy Campbell, who must eat and sleep by his computer. He posted the column by some mysterious process only known to the young and others not cyber-challenged. Voilà! A scoop.

You may also be surprised that Marianne and Randy actually pay me for what some probably consider drivel laced with occasional uncalled-for slurs on our dear leader, the rest of the White House Gang, and Gov. Hummer. But these bank deposits allow me to pay the bills of those who struggle with my health, including but not limited to Dr. Kathy McClintock, dentist superiore; Dr. Van Hamilton, General Practioner and friend; Cottage Hospital and Sansum medical marvels who tend my right knee, prostate, colon, wife, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchild Brianna; as well as my lawyer and the great guys at the Montecito Street 76 station who’ve kept my cars running all these years.

When I quit the News-Press on July 6, 2006, I never dreamed I’d end up here at the friendly Indy. I figured Sue and I would just use up our savings, get a cardboard sign, and sit on the curb in the 700 block of State and hope people I wasn’t too hard on would drop coins in a hat.

But lo and behold, I got an urgent call the next day from Marianne. Would I like to write a farewell column about the NP, and talk about working for The Indy? I would and I did. And I’m glad. I’ve learned a lot and find myself writing more for The Indy Web site than the 850 words, give or take, I do for the print edition. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks? And Sue loves taking photos for my column.

Where it will all end I have no idea. (Oops, got to wrap this up. Sue needs me in the yard.)

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