We've heard it all, here at the Telegraph .
The first rumor to hit was that the Herald had started a weekly to simulate a
little competition. Called the Durango
it would have a conservative political bent.
A few weeks after the Telegraph
hit the streets, a new
rumor replaced it. The word was that the new weekly was no more
than a money laundering operation for a Telluride
My personal favorite has been the lingering rumor of how Missy
and I are more than business partners and actually a husband-wife
publishing team. This one's been taken to outrageous ends. I've
heard how we conceived our love child Baxter in a fit of pagemaking
passion, the act taking place as we also worked to birth the first
issue of the Telegraph . It was a great tale of suspense,
betrayal and intrigue, but, like all the others, was untrue. Sorry,
Two weeks ago, another rumor landed on my lap when I answered a
call from my wife, Rachael's, boss. (Sorry, Missy. I've been
meaning to tell you. The rumors are true. I'm married to another
"When are you guys leaving!?" my wife's boss asked
Apparently, I'd sent a campus-wide e-mail at Fort Lewis College
that supposedly explained how my share of the Telegraph was up for sale and that I was
relocating the family outside the area.
"When is Rachael giving notice?" she asked. "What's going to
happen to the paper?"
I talked her down, eventually dispelling the rumor with a little
honesty. (For those of you who also received that "campus-wide
e-mail," we're not leaving the area, the Telegraph is not for sale, and Missy and I are
not and have never been married.)
But there was a shade of truth in that most recent rumor. The Durango Telegraph loses a key element this week. As
virtually everyone who has darkened a finger on this newsprint
already knows, this is Jen Reeder's last edition with the Telegraph .
This paper was born out of the fire and ashes of the summer of
2002. After one of the weakest tourism seasons ever, it goes
without saying that people were hesitant to advertise. We also
faced a lack of faith from potential staffers. As Missy and I
started putting our vision down on paper and making this weekly a
reality, help was in desperately short supply.
"I just want to work somewhere that's going to be around in a
few months," one prospect informed us.
Another took the job, only to not show up to work the next week.
He finally left a phone message, telling us that he'd opted for
stability and another job.
And then along came Jen, who saw the Telegraph as a piece of crazy genius. During a
time when people were saying, "It'll never work" and "No one can
take on the Herald ," Jen was hitting the streets
and coaxing our print bill out of a war-torn business community. In
the meantime, she also wrote articles, dispelled rumors (an
invaluable service), took trips to far flung locales in search of
advertising, helped with production, handled grievances and ensured
we were making good use of our trade with Ska Brewing. When we had
squeezed the last few dollars out of our loan and the remaining
winter months looked bleak, Jen helped buoy us up. A month later
and well before spring, the Telegraph was breaking even.
Fittingly, Jen has gone by many titles during her time here.
Officially, she's been known as "Advertising Specialist" and "Staff
Writer." She's also been proofreader, pinch photographer, pinch
editor, pinch publisher, delivery schlep, bar maid, counselor and
friend. Perhaps the most fitting title was bestowed on-air during a
recent KSUT fund drive, when she was christened "Number Three."
It's now been more than two years since "Number Three" first
came to work here at the Telegraph
and she leaves us on more
than solid ground. I could easily say something cliche like the
paper won't be the same without Jen. That's a given. It's more
truthful to note that the Telegraph wouldn't be without Jen.
Thanks for making this wild ride possible.