Hope springs eternal

As noted earlier, Sharon Heilbrunn will be leaving the Union-Tribune, and Friday is her last day. It's going to be a huge loss for the paper, and especially our readers. With Sharon's permission, I'm reprinting a note she sent to a group of current and former staffers.




At the end of this week, I will leave the U-T -- where I've worked since 2005, most recently as a general assignment Metro Staff Writer -- for a yearlong multimedia fellowship with KPBS, where I will learn to produce and report news across all platforms, including radio, television and online.

People thought the decision was an easy one. After all, the paper is/isn't being sold, print media is in trouble, multimedia is the way to go, etc. etc. etc.

But the truth is, it was an extremely hard choice. Let me explain why.

(First, some perspective: I'm under 30, I'm a journalism rookie, and I don't know a lot about the "old days.")

Here's the deal -- I love what I do. I know that's a cliche, but it's worth repeating. I'm under 30, and I love what I do. I know about the troubles of print journalism, but I think it's extremely vital to keep in mind that people in this industry still love what they do. Young people. Old people. Rookies. Veterans. I don't think that will die. We might not always love the way we're asked to do it, but the root of it -- reporting, telling stories, uncovering facts -- that, we love. I get to talk to people, to experience things, to figure out how to take a jumbled mess of notes and weave it into something measurable, something interesting. I still feel an adrenalin rush when I see my byline in the newspaper.

I didn't always love this. In fact, it took several editors and reporters to believe in me before I started loving what I do. Which brings me to my next point.

I love who I work with. (I have lots of love.)

My desk in the Mission Valley building faces editor Karin Winner's office, across from the long conference room. I know exactly where to walk to satiate my mood. If I need a little laugh, I'll turn around and head to the Sports Dept. to talk to the people over there for a while. There's always something quirky happening in that area. (Plus, they always have food.) If I want a little friendly conversation, I'll march over to the folks at the Photo Desk and SignOn, who always humor my "whatcha doing" questions when I need to clear my head. And If I just want to feel like I am part of something much bigger than myself, I'll sit at my desk and simply listen. Behind me, Jeff McDonald and Michael Stetz are engaged in a friendly banter. Across from me, Helen Gao is kicking butt, asking sources the kind of questions that make them sweat. And if I look to my right, my editor, David Ogul, is complaining about something and asking where my story is and eating M&M's by the handful.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

And when I sit with Mr. Ogul to edit one of my stories, I always get that same excited feeling when we finally file. I'm lucky, fortunate to have worked with such a fine editor, who took the time to not only nurture my writing and my hunger to stretch as a reporter, but also to get to know me and support my efforts. Alexa Capeloto, my former editor, did the same. I thank them, as well as the other gifted editors I've worked with at the U-T, who all have contributed to my growth.

The U-T is full of extremely talented people. I stand by that, because I've seen it and felt it and am proud to know it. Yes, it isn't perfect. But if I just take my little bubble and I look back on the last three years, (and especially the last six months), I'd like to believe that in my immediate surroundings -- when it's just me, the reporters around me and some fine editors doing our jobs -- the environment is much like it was 15, 20 years ago. Witty comments are still made. Hilarious stories are told. Reporters still look out for other reporters and lend a helping hand when necessary. We ask how their families are. We rally around a sick colleague as if it we were rallying around our 80-year old grandma. We look out for our own. We support one another. And we continue to love what we do.

I don't know much. I'm young, I'm sure many will think I'm naive, and yes, I probably am. A bit idealistic, I'm sure. But I do know that when I go to pack up my desk this week, it won't be without its share of sadness for what I am about to leave.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, even with its troubles, journalism still has its followers. The relationships and camaraderie built in newsrooms, that can only be cultivated by people who understand what it's like in the trenches, still inspire fledgling reporters. Young people are still attracted to the craft. Soon, it might not exist the way we know it, but I guess there has to be some kind of hope for an industry that still churns out people who love what they do.