Greetings, readers: I’m the new editor of the Washington State Standard. Pleased to meet you.

A flood of memories drowned me a week ago as I climbed the steps to the entrance of Olympia’s Legislative Building, a grand structure built in 1928. I suspect it’s easy for people who work here every day to take its beauty for granted.

I know the place. I’ve been there many times in the course of my journalism career,  but it had been a while. This visit was different. 

I wasn’t walking in as a reporter. I was walking in as the new editor-in-chief of the Washington State Standard, a mere eight days before a big election.

The building, 287 feet high, towered like a mountain. I felt small. My nerves jangled, intimidated by the prospect of new responsibilities and duties.

Did we really build this? I asked myself. Could we even dream of building it now in this fractious age?  

Memories came again. In my mind’s eye, I saw the faces of statehouse reporters, young and old: co-workers, friends, and competitors. One way or another, all found their way to the marble floors of this civic cathedral, the church of the People’s Business.

How did I get here? How did this happen?

When I started in journalism, I wasn’t thinking about saving the world. I just wanted to tell good stories. My first naive effort for a weekly Seattle newspaper profiled a community activist who wanted to fix a neglected street in a seedy suburb. Did my story matter? I didn’t know – but I noticed the street got fixed.

I wrote many more stories after that for the Tacoma News Tribune, where I became an investigative reporter and later an editor. Some of those stories highlighted examples of state government failing its duty to serve people.

In the end, people are the point. You can find the idea in the Standard’s statement of purpose: “We help readers understand how Washington state government works and how decisions made by those in power affect people living and working here.”

I like that approach. I’ve never lost sight of it. I hope to amplify it at the Standard, where I’m working with a team of three reporters who know their business: Jerry Cornfield, Jake Goldstein-Street, and Aspen Ford. We’re about to cover a big election. The night will be long. We’ll be there, covering the results and their implications.

We live in changing times. Communities served by the journalism industry have lost sources of connection. Over the past decade, the decline of traditional statehouse coverage has become a cliche.

States Newsroom, the nonprofit parent of the Standard, with outlets and partners in all 50 states, is trying to change that. I know that sounds like mandatory cheerleading for my new employer, but let me be clear: Nobody told me to write this. Two months ago, I had no idea I would be here.

I was aware of the Standard in the competitive sense before I applied for the job, but that was all. I was working for The News Tribune. I wasn’t thinking about opportunities until circumstances beyond my control changed my fortunes. In real time, an old journalism friend flagged the job opening at the Standard. 

I rolled the dice and applied, but not before I did some research.

“Fair. Fearless. Free.” That’s the States Newsroom mantra.

Decent slogan, I thought. Are they serious? 

I delved deeper, and found plenty of news: good stories, straight reporting covering policy, power and politics. Fair? Yes. The stories sought perspective from all sides. Fearless? Yes. The stories pulled no punches. 

Free? Yes. That was clear too, and — this still floors me — you can actually READ the stories without the incessant bombardment of popups and ads.

Are you kidding me?

A few days after I started this gig, an old journalism friend met me for lunch. He spent years covering the Legislature, and he knows everything. As we walked across the vast Capitol campus to a sandwich shop, he ranted a little, pointing to parking spaces, and how hard it is for ordinary folk to find them anywhere nearby. How hard should it be to get to the place where people in power make big decisions?

I laughed, but I knew what he meant. Yes, power matters – but people matter more. I’m looking forward to this new journey. I hope you feel the same way. I’m happy to be here. I encourage you to subscribe to our free newsletter and donate to support our work. 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends.