IT’S OFFICIAL, I’VE BEEN TRADED TO THE SENATORS
Like ex-Oiler Hemsky, award-winning columnist taking her talents to Ottawa
As a kid, I hated group work.
I hated it with the white-hot passion of a thousand suns.
I was always the Hermione Granger type, the insufferable know-it-all, the overachiever who wanted to turn in the best possible work.
I hated it when I felt people weren’t pulling their weight. I hated it just as much when my group mates failed to live up to my persnickety standards of perfectionism. A control freak, all I really wanted was to do my own projects, all by myself. As much as I hated group work with my peers, I imagine they hated group work with me more.
How ironic, that I chose to spend 30 years of my adult life as a journalist. In popular culture, the “investigative journalist” is often depicted as a lone maverick, fighting with editors, scorning colleagues. In movies, the columnist often has an isolated office in which they ensconce themselves to craft their opinions.
For me, that has never worked. Especially not at the Edmonton Journal, the most collegial newsroom I’ve known.
A few of us started our careers here at the same time, 23 years ago. After about a week, I dragged one of those reporters, someone I knew from my time before the Journal, furtively behind a pillar.
“Everyone here seems so nice,” I hissed at him. “Do you think it’s all an act?”
It wasn’t. Or if it was, it’s been the most amazing long con in history.
Good journalism is group work. And when you’re part of a group of people you trust and respect, it turns out that it’s a joy.
That’s not to say that every colleague or every editor has been a pleasure to work with.
And I haven’t always been a pleasure to work with either. I have the messiest desk in the newsroom.
One exasperated editor dubbed my nest of papers, books, cough syrup bottles and dirty Rubbermaid lunch containers the newsroom’s midden. Also? I talk rather a lot. One of my more creative bosses decided the best way to “manage” me was to put my desk in the middle of the “cop desk” — the corner where police and fire and EMS scanners blare day and night.
His goal? Cluster all of the most noxiously noisy elements of the newsroom in one place.
Thus, I’ve spent the last few years crafting my columns against a high-adrenalin soundtrack of 911 dispatch calls — which provides a rather existential view of life.
That’s the life of a newsroom, the constant hum of energy, the boisterous, irreverent, backand-forth banter of writers and editors and photographers.
We were always a team, working together on stories and features, feeding off each other’s ideas, bouncing arguments off each other.
Over my 23 years with this paper, I’ve been lucky to work with some of very best journalists in the country: columnists and editorial writers and photographers and videographers. I’ve been honoured to mentor dozens of interns, many of whom have gone off to huge careers, all across the country.
Every time one of “our” kids writes a big story or wins a big prize, I kvell like a proud Jewish mother.
In turn, I’ve been mentored by patient, brilliant editors who’ve not just shaped my words, but who’ve shaped my whole way of seeing the world.
Leaving my Edmonton team to join the senators — sort of the way Aleš Hemský did — won’t be easy. (I’m hoping my career as a senator will be a good while longer than his.)
But even though I’m leaving the Journal to accept an appointment to the Senate, I know I’m leaving my readers and my city in good hands.
It’s no secret that the last decade has been a tough time for daily newspapers. I sometimes joke that we’re a homeopathic newsroom: the more diluted we become, the stronger we somehow seem to be. During my last few years in this newsroom, I’ve worked with tremendous veterans as well as dazzling rising stars. I’ve been inspired by their guts and their energy and their monster talent.
For so many years, I’ve been proud and grateful to tell this community’s story. I’ve called out its failures. I’ve celebrated its glories. I love Edmonton with an unreasoning passion. No matter where I’ve lived or travelled, this strange city of contrasts has always held my heart and soul.
I’m not leaving Edmonton. I’ll be commuting in real Alberta flyin/fly-out style. But in a way, I’m not really leaving the Edmonton Journal either, at least not in spirit, not as long as my team, my group, is still telling Edmonton’s stories with courage and care.
Good journalism is group work. And when you’re part of a group of people you trust and respect, it turns out that it’s ajoy.