When the heavy oak door to our two-flat slammed shut behind me that October evening, I knew it’d be some time before I returned to New York City. Our family — my wife, our 1-year-old son, one stressed-out tabby and I — had only moved to the North Side six weeks earlier. The trip back East was for saying goodbye to friends and colleagues.
But more than that, it was a farewell to the only city I could credibly say I knew.
Credibly, for having been born and raised there. Never completely. There are still places I’ve never been, holes in the wall I’ve never haunted. And since coming to Chicago, I still look around and feel daunted by the notion that anyone can truly know a town, with all its colors and complexities. At least in my mind, you need an academic’s handle on history and a scar or two to pull something like that off. Reading a hell of a lot of good journalism helps.
Well, I’m a journalist, so I resolved that I needed to shut the door and get to work. Editors of mine at The New York Times gave me “Boss” by Mike Royko as a parting gift, so I started there. It was a revelation. Royko was a pugilist, as sharp as he was bruising. You don’t need to be a Chicagoan to see that. Only read his prose, and it’s plain:
“In his Chicago, even a man’s birthday could be put to political use. ‘Chicago ain’t ready for reform yet,’ Alderman Bauler said when Daley was elected in 1955. And in 1970, ready or not, it wasn’t getting any.”
It’s been three months since we put down roots here, and I’ve found good journalism to be comforting and clarifying. I’ve been reminded over and over that we strive to connect people, bearing witness to the big, small, great and terrible things that allow the folks we call our neighbors to see themselves as part of a community.
Want an example? Here’s Stefano Esposito, a general assignment reporter on the features desk, looking back on Berlin Nightclub after its closing:
“A baby-blue formica bar went in, glass-brick columns behind the bar and splashes of pink. And thus, Berlin Nightclub was born — a spot that celebrated its otherness with sequined body suits, sapphire-blue wigs, a live petting zoo (on at least one occasion) and, as former patrons, performers and staff fondly recall, a we-welcome-everyone-here warmth.”
That’s the job. And I’m fortunate enough to see it all in action.
I’ve been in news for most of my professional life. I’m now the deputy managing editor for news here at the Sun-Times. Before this, I worked in breaking news at The New York Times. Before that, I did a brief stint in TV with Jon Stewart. (A story for another time.) A few years before that, I wrote about a little bit of everything, whether about television or tech policy. Before all of that, I just wanted to be in the room with people devoted to telling stories that mattered.
‘Up to my ears in good writing’
I think that’s the heart of it all for me. I’ve been inculcated in the profession’s articles of faith. I believe in comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable, telling truth to power, and finding beauty and relief in a good yarn. But I confess that, at my core, I derive the most joy from just being around storytellers. So since coming here, I’ve tried to open myself up to this new city through them.
I’m lucky. Seriously, I can’t tell you how lucky I am. I’m up to my ears in good writing about Chicago and surrounded by journalists committed to telling its story every day. It’s like a cheat code. If you’re new in town, make your way to the nearest newsroom. Somehow, deadline pressure can’t beat Midwestern decency. I’ve gotten book recommendations, parking tips, shows to see with my wife and city traditions to take our son. Slowly but surely, I’m being transformed by this place.
There’s also the responsibility the work entails. My coming here, in this role, demands that I be engaged and invested in the discourse concerning how a city functions and how the people who make it up help define it. I have a notebook full of notes I’ve jotted down after long conversations with reporters and editors about what matters here and how they think about the craft.
If there’s a journalistic lesson I’ve learned that I hold especially dear, it’s the craft we’ve devoted our lives to demands spending time in the chair. It means being mindful and letting each story teach you something. New York will call me back from time to time. Family and friends will do that. But I’m here now. My chair is in Chicago.
Kwame Opam is deputy managing editor for news at the Sun-Times and was previously the strategy and operations deputy for the breaking news teams at The New York Times.
This column is the first in an occasional series introducing readers to editors and others “behind the scenes” at the Sun-Times.
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