by Jordan Green, News Editor
I woke up Sunday morning to a text message from the publisher of my newspaper back home, Tina Anderson.
“Have you been to the office yet?”
No, she wasn’t asking me to come in and work on a Sunday. She’s not Scrooge. She just wanted to make sure that I saw something she had left on my desk for me – something incredibly special.
A few weeks back, she told me she’d be leaving something for me at the office. I told her I’d get it as soon as I got home from college for Christmas break. And that’s what I did: Sunday morning, I walked into the newspaper office. Lo and behold, there on my desk it sat: A rusty, brown box called a “Secretary.” It’s used to keep track of phone numbers.
I was ecstatic.
That little contraption may look like a simple directory of phone numbers. But to me, it’s so much more.
This little brown box belonged to Charles Wesley Abbott, better known as “Scoop.” He was a reporter, photographer, and editor at The Blackwell Journal-Tribune for most of his life. He started here fresh out of college and worked here, at least on a part-time basis, almost until the day he died.
He was a remarkable man, one that I have always looked up to and admired.
Though Scoop was considerably older than I am – he was born in 1938, and I was born in 2000 – our lives crossed paths many times when I was a kid.
I remember being in elementary school when Scoop would come to the library to take pictures of whatever project we students were tackling. He always donned a plaid shirt and jeans, and he was always smiling and talking with those around him.
When he wasn’t at the school, he was at community functions like the once-great “Tulips-A-Bloom” festival.
It seemed like Scoop, no matter the time of day, was always there, a trusty camera by his side. He always got the story. He was a great reporter. Hence the nickname, “Scoop.”
But a journalist is only as good as his sources. And to get good sources, one has to truly understand his “beat” – the topics he’s assigned to cover.
In Scoop’s case, his beat was the whole county. He covered it, and he covered it with great fervor. He had his finger on the metaphorical “pulse” of the community.
Being so “in-tune” with people takes a great deal of networking. It takes a great deal of engagement. And it takes a great deal of trust. People have to know that you’re there to help your community, and you have to know that the people you talk to will give you the truth.
Scoop didn’t just possess the qualities of understanding and trustworthiness; he mastered them. He was always connected. He was always involved. He was always truthful.
That’s the only way to be in community journalism. That’s how you gain people’s trust, and that’s how you get people to support your work.
I know that’s how Scoop got my support. When I would see Scoop out and about, I always thought he was such a cool guy. Though I was little, something inside me made me appreciate what he was doing. Little did I know that I would one day be working at The Journal-Tribune, keeping alive the legacy of impactful journalism that Scoop created.
Scoop touched the lives of so many people over the years. Whether it was through his exciting sports coverage or his artful feature work, he brought joy to the people of Blackwell.
Though part of his job certainly centered on entertaining people, he never shied away from the assignments that put reporters to the test. He was a fearless watchdog reporter, keeping track of every inch of movement at City Hall. And in Blackwell, covering municipal government has never been easy.
Whether he was making people laugh, cry, or swell with anger, Scoop did work that this community needed. People confided in him. People supported him. People trusted him.
And all of those people are written down – some in blue ink, some in black ink, and some in red ink – in this little brown box.
This little box may not seem like much, but its contents were earned through years of labor. And it was used by a man who paved the way for young journalists like me to keep doing important work in the communities we serve and love.
As a young boy, I never dreamed I would one day be working for The Blackwell Journal-Tribune. But God always puts us where he needs us. I’m thankful that He put me here to keep doing what one great journalist did for his entire life: Telling the tales of Blackwell, Oklahoma. There will never be another Scoop. But thanks to what he has done, there will always be people in journalism who want to be just like him.
Myself included.
Though I’ll never be able to fill Scoop’s shoes, I’ll always do my best to follow in his footsteps.
Thanks, Scoop.