This must be the place: Ode to the torchbearers of tomorrow, ode to why I got into this gig
Backstage at the Macon City Auditorium. Cara Murphy photo
Hello from Room 105 at the Holiday Inn Express in Macon, Georgia. It’s 73 degrees outside with a slight, refreshing breeze. Quite the contrast from just a couple weeks ago when I was jogging down the snowy, frozen backroads of the North Country in my native Upstate New York.
In the column photo on this page is myself holding court with two of the greatest rock guitarists on the planet, Derek Trucks (left) and Warren Haynes (right), as well as powerhouse vocal sensation Susan Tedeschi (middle). Talk about a “pinch me” moment of epic proportions, eh? Good lord. Is this real life?
I found myself in that circle of musical heroes while on assignment for Rolling Stone covering the Dickey Betts tribute showcase in Macon last Friday evening. A legendary six-string ace on his trademark Gibson Les Paul for the Allman Brothers Band, Betts passed away last year at age 80, but not before leaving an eternal mark on rock music.
And there I was, running around backstage in search of quick on-the-fly quotes from all sorts of rock-n-roll characters, all while trying to bop around the audience itself to truly, honestly and passionately absorb the melodic beauty radiating from the stage. To note, make sure to track down that rendition of “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed.”
Truth be told, none of what transpired in that time and space was lost on me. Well, it never, ever is. I’ve never taken a single day in this journalism gig for granted, whether it be for Rolling Stone or the bedrock of my career that is my work with The Smoky Mountain News. Gratitude is always in the forefront. Respect for the craft constantly in tow.
The next morning, I sat down in the lobby of the Holiday Inn and, as I took the third sip of my second cup of coffee, began to dive deeply into the legend, lore and legacy of Dickey Betts. Article due in my editor’s inbox before noon. Hop to it. Get on it. Get to the point and keep it simple. And always remember what you’ve learned in this whirlwind business that is journalism: Why is this important? What did you see? How did it make you feel? What’s the takeaway?
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To that, I started to reflect on a recent trip to the University of North Carolina at Asheville. I was asked to speak to journalism students who not only write for the school newspaper, but also genuinely want to pursue careers in the same field by which I live and thrive, the same industry I’ve proudly called home for the last 18 years.
Pulling up to campus, I realized it had been years since I’d stepped foot on the grounds of a college. The kids looked so young, where this weird thought popped into my head, “None of these students were alive when 9-11 happened.” Not to be morbid, but as an older millennial myself, that was the line in the sand of not only our country at the turn of the century, but also my youth and innocence in the process.
You know, I don’t remember looking or feeling that young when I was strolling the sidewalks and crosswalks of Quinnipiac University in Hamden, Connecticut. Many years ago, when I was a fresh-faced journalism student wanting to chase after society with pen, paper, camera and handheld recorder in hand. But, I was that young. And hungry. And ready to enter the “real world.” I was in search of the story, the way. Still am, too.
Entering the classroom, there were around 20 students sitting quietly and respectfully at their desks. The professor introduced me and it was surreal to hear his introduction. It wasn’t an ego thing, not at all, but as he went through my background — who I am, where I’m from, what I’ve done — a flood of memories came across my field-of-vision. Time flies when you’re having fun, especially when you’re a writer on-the-go.
For the next 75 minutes, I stood there and talked at-length about a slew of topics, subjects and matter-of-fact things that I’ve either experienced over the better part of the last two decades or continually experience on a daily basis in this profession. Tales from the road. Stories from the trenches. The roller coaster ups and downs of working in media in an ever-changing digital age of knowns and unknowns.
And there were certain mantras I told them that I sincerely stick to: “There’s no such thing as a boring story. However, there is such a thing as a boring journalist.” “Sit down and honestly think to yourself, ‘What is it that I really want to say?’” “Don’t write to be purposely clever or impress the reader, actually be truthful and vulnerable with your thoughts and words.” “Everything and everyone is a story, so stay attentive to your surroundings and always remain curious for what lies just around the corner.”
By the time the class ended, I felt this wave of inspiration wash over my body, mind and soul. These kids really sparked a new level of appreciation for the work we journalists do on a daily basis: why it’s important to the general public and why it means so damn much to the blood, sweat and tears we put into every story, every day. The future is bright with these next torchbearers of the written word. It is. I saw it first-hand on an otherwise quiet Wednesday afternoon.
So, here I currently sit. Macon, Georgia. Holiday Inn lobby. The Rolling Stone article now safely submitted before noon. Right now, I’m debating whether I need (or should have) a third cup of coffee before I hit the road, merging onto Interstate 75 for the four-and-a-half-hour drive back to Western North Carolina, back to my quaint apartment in downtown Waynesville, back to more assignments and deadlines for this newspaper.
But, no matter, for I look forward to those assignments and deadlines, this never-ending flow of people, places and things that I parachute into each day, with curiosity and gratitude in abundance, this vehicle (literally and figuratively) to have adventures, meet people and wander this big ol’ world.
Some 18 years since I first jumped into the choppy waters of journalism, I love this job as much as ever. It’s true. And I champion all of you readers for always picking up our products and supporting local, independent journalism. In this day and age? It’s as vital, crucial and important as ever. Onward.
Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.
