Newsroom empty, but its people are as busy as ever

I knew the newsroom was empty even before I pulled open the double glass doors. I could feel it.

I stood in the quiet. I hadn’t been here since March.

I’d never seen it empty before. Not even late at night or early in the morning. Someone is always here.

Newsrooms are like living things — busy, noisy, messy. Dozens of TVs are tuned to different networks.

Editors and reporters talk about stories. Over low cubicle walls, people hold forth on interesting topics — politics, breaking news and whether eating chocolate bourbon balls constitutes drinking on the job.

People come and go. At their desks, their fingers fly over keyboards. They hurry to interviews, meetings or for more coffee.

It’s never still.

I’ve worked in newsrooms for more than 30 years now, first at the Mesa Tribune, then the Phoenix Gazette and, since 1997, The Republic.

Part of what I love about the job is the newsroom. The people. The passion. The potlucks.

Now the TVs and computer screens were dark. The police scanner was silent. Plants were missing from desks. The photo editor had taken his fish and its bowl home.

I’ve kept in touch with my colleagues with calls and messages. We connect, brainstorm and vent.

We’re writing at home, venturing out for interviews and to cover events.

Everyone is working long hours to keep up with stories about the pandemic, the economy and new ways of doing business, schools reopening and life as we are now living it.

Things will be different when we come back. We’ll sit farther apart and wear masks. We’ll have to tidy up more.

What we do is important and even more in times like this. And it’s not this empty newsroom that matters, but what the people who are missing from here are doing. Nothing stops us.