There is an intrinsic value to a community newspaper that goes beyond black and white print or basic news stories.
Community newspapers provide a sense of togetherness and connection that even today’s ever-present social media cannot match.
Back in 1996, when I was a first-year law student at WVU, I was hired to be a summer legal intern for the public defender’s office in Roane and Calhoun Counties. I was bright-eyed and ready to take on constitutional challenges. I was pulled over for speeding on the way there and after I told the State Trooper where I was headed, he said “Oh, good luck, you’re going to need it” and let me go with a warning.
I worried about that comment as I headed toward quaint little Spencer for my first real law job.
I could not afford to pay for an apartment in Morgantown and an apartment in Spencer or Grantsville. I had spent the previous summer tent camping and biking all over the United States in areas like Colorado and the Grand Canyon.
As a Boy Scout (and Eagle Scout), tent camping or roughing it did not bother me in the least. So, I decided to simply tent camp all summer, based out of Charles Fork Lake outside of Spencer. I set up my tent, made camp by this beautiful small lake, and washed up at a local laundromat where I did laundry. To me, it was a great way to save money and really, I could not afford anything else. I always made it a point to show up for work neatly dressed in a suit and tie and ready for exciting court challenges.
Everything was going well until one day after work. I had arrived late due to playing golf at the local golf course. It was now dark. I was driving to my small camp by the lake and some guys were quickly driving away with their tires spitting gravel as they left. They yelled something indiscernible at me as they passed by and threw a beer can out the window. I looked up toward where my tent was located, and there was smoke coming from the tent. I ran to the site and saw that my bedding had been pulled out, was burned badly and the entire camp setup was on fire or destroyed in some manner.
It was disheartening, to say the least. I put out the fire, cleaned up the mess, and spent the next few nights literally sleeping in my little Geo Metro car in a Walmart parking lot. Even then, I did not think too much of it and just had faith that it would all work out. There was no Facebook or Twitter on which to place postings, and I probably would not have talked about it anyway.
Soon thereafter, I was in magistrate court working on a case where despite the “No Smoking” sign on the hallway wall, the magistrate and State Trooper sat smoking away with nothing but a little battery-powered ashtray to filter away the smoke. I was telling the story about my “camp fire” and a reporter happened to be there from the Spencer Times-Record.
That local newspaper ran a story about my plight. Calls from readers came flooding in offering assistance and free housing. I wound up with free housing in a basement apartment with WVU medical students, where I slept on a couch.
That summer turned into a fun, educational summer and actually is what led me to become a prosecutor. The generosity and compassion of local residents greatly outweighed the criminal conduct.
I owed it all to that little story by the local newspaper.
