Within certain venues, I've made no secret the fact that leaving the Chicago Sun-Times was one of the harder decisions I've made in my professional life.

I've left jobs before, certainly, and had little to no compunction about the decision in the same way I have about this one. To understand why, you'd have to know that the first thing I ever read, at the tender age of three, was a newspaper. You'd have to know that I worshiped Mike Royko as a little girl, and that every day I rushed home from school to read the newspaper because, back then, there was still such a thing as the afternoon paper. You'd have to know that I was told back in second grade that I was a good writer, and that my very first job, aside from cutting lawns, was as a papergirl. You would have to know that once I realized I could work at a newspaper, be in a newsroom, working at a newspaper in Chicago was the only thing I ever wanted.

Newspapers have been in my blood for seemingly forever and unless you are of that ilk, who lived for the rush of the deadline and the breaking story, for the swearing and the bombastic characters, and the messy smudge of ink all over your fingertips upon flipping through tomorrow morning's edition, literally, off of the presses, it might be difficult to see the romance of it all. Newspapers, the ones in Chicago specifically, shaped the view of the life I'd hoped to have for myself as an adult.

When I first left a newspaper, down in Peoria, I knew in some ways that I'd eventually end up back. Not at that paper in particular, but in the industry. I wasn't done, I knew that. Ten years later, after having had my desk in the newsroom of a Chicago daily, I certainly am. And what's sad is that I'm not sure what there would be to go back to if I somehow changed my mind.

Scott sent me this yesterday afternoon and I literally felt my stomach jump up through my throat. Then I thanked my lucky stars I got out and wasn't there in that newsroom, receiving Michael Cooke's email in my own inbox, wondering who'd be the one to go. Newsrooms all over the country are starting to pillage its editorial staffs, a fact that surprises no one. My friends who remain in the business worldwide will tell you a newspaper office is a horrible place to be. The S-T's situation is notable in that it is the victim of a corrupt, money-hungry financier whose need for greed places the newspaper at a disadvantage in an already volatile climate. If any newsroom was ripe for that kind of a layoff announcement, it was the Sun-Times.

And the Sun-Times isn't a perfect paper by any means - from its tawdry and tacky handling of the Stacy Peterson disappearance case to its incessant need of adding exclamation points onto nearly every front page, associations with Chicago's tabloid are not generally things of which to be proud. Both JP and Scott were overjoyed when I quit because it meant they could stop pretending not to find the Sun-Times a waste of newsprint. But it's done some great things and is filled with talented, hard-working individuals who felt the same way I always have about the privilege of working at a newspaper.

When I left, there wasn't an editor - a seasoned editor, at least - who didn't come up to me and tell me that I was doing the right thing. Newsrooms aren't the places they used to be, they said with a sigh, and I am still young enough to get out while the getting is good. All this is very true, but that doesn't mean that just because I made it safely to shore that I'm relishing in watching the ship go down.

Posted by Erin at 12:08 PM | filed under: Chicago