Happy trails

It’s been 10 years since we first sat down with the bar napkin and started drafting this publication, and my second baby – the paper girl you hold in your hands – turned 9 in late August. That’s 475 editions (not that I’ve been counting) since Issue No. 1 hit the streets in 2002, and this pen has squeaked out a few thousand stories and upwards of a million words during that stretch. Throw in another decade of editing/publishing/ski bumming in the high-altitude hamlet of Crested Butte, and the word “change” starts to sound pretty appealing.

I should also mention that my fourth-grade daughter is now a regular reader of the “From the Editor” column, and this dad struggles with sanitizing his Skyler stories for the sake of the preteen’s social life. As a result, one of my top muses has been effectively neutralized. (There’s a particularly juicy piece about our daunting search for training bras that will regrettably have to go unwritten. But buy me a pint, and I’ll spill the beans in all of their JC Penney glory.)

Excuses aside, I’ve had a great, wild, crazy ride on the Durango Telegraph. While I could say that I’ve given 10 years of my life to this little publication pipedream, it wouldn’t be accurate. Nope, it is this paper that’s gifted me 10 charmed years, introduced me to the best damned people on the planet and given me a strong taste of the good life.

From edition one – cobbled together with the help of one underpaid contributor, a donated front page photograph and the faith of a small handful of advertisers – to the present day, it has been my pleasure to help steer this ship. “Providing an insightful mix of news and entertainment (with an occasional dose of bawdy humor, political edginess and cheap fun) for Durango and beyond” ranks high on the list of my life’s mileposts.

It is true that it hasn’t always been easy. For starters, these pages were quite literally born out of the flames of the Missionary Ridge fire. Not long after, the Fashion Police did their best to toss us in the clink, throw away the key and nail us with litigation. Then, the Wonder Twins hit us with plenty of damage during a brief sleepover at the Telegraph late in 2006. Throughout the experiment, we’ve taken more than our share of constructive conservative criticism courtesy of those painful but essential words, “We’ll print damned near anything.”

But those were all passing hiccups, and I’m forever indebted to Durango and the Telegraph for allowing me to wield my pen in one of Planet Earth’s finest corners. And while I’ve taken great joy in shadow boxing with coal-fired mega corporations and crossing sabers with international uranium magnates, this paper has always been bigger than that. The Telegraph has always belonged to the readers, and you’ve helped shape, guide and push this pub through its first almost-decade. Our most dedicated readers have always been our advertisers, and we will always be grateful to those of you who so generously bankrolled this madcap journey, especially those who’ve stuck with us since the early days.

Though I may be fading into the backdrop, the show will go on. Issue #476 will hit the streets next Thursday, delivered (figuratively and literally) by the capable hands of Missy Votel, Lainie Maxson and the same cast of characters that have kept the wheels turning all these years. And you can go ahead and forget what you read about media in the other headlines. This particular sheaf of newsprint is prospering and will continue to anchor Durango’s Thursday mornings for years to come. If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s bucking trends.

And though this Jefe is giving up the day-to-day for a little midlife respite, don’t count me all the way out. I’ll be dropping back inside the fold from time to time and may just wander back onto the keyboard in the not-too-distant. Like many of you, I can’t go very long without my weekly dose of Vitamin T.
– Will Sands