You all may know me as a newspaper lady — a hat I proudly wear — but you might not know my love for newsprint goes far beyond the joy I derive from curating, writing and editing the content that fills each newspaper’s pages.
Over the last 10 years since I joined the staff of the West Plains Daily Quill (Can you believe it’s been that long already?), some of my favorite stories have required the deepest dives into our area’s history. Writing about the Butler-Parkside House that used to stand in Butler Children’s Park on Broadway led me to research the Minnichs and Hogans and their contributions to West Plains, as well as the surrounding communities where they lived before settling in that house on Broadway.
Covering the 2017 flood’s impact on Thomasville led me down the proverbial rabbit hole filled with Shaws, Whitesides, Smothermans and more Minnichs, plus countless others, who all had a hand in shaping the region’s history. Still in Oregon County, as the Greer Mill was being refurbished, I was researching the family for whom Greer Spring was named, and stumbled across some cross-overs into my own ancestral history — which is fun, because while I didn’t grow up here and have no officially-known kin here, I have a lot of Garretts and Alfords and a whole lot of other family names in my tree that pop up with some frequency in this part of the Ozarks. See, I’m a bit of a genealogist, too.
One of my favorite history stories that I’ve written in my time here, I wrote about five years ago: A story about Ben and Edward Adams, two men buried in the same grave after being shot dead while on leave from serving the Confederacy. Theirs is the oldest grave in Pottersville Cemetery on K Highway, first named the Adams Cemetery, then the White Church Cemetery.
You may wonder why I feel compelled to tell you all of this. And I’ll tell you, but first, let me ask you a couple of questions: What do you believe is the purpose of a newspaper within a community? What is the purpose in the present day, and what is the purpose of today’s newspaper in the future?
Of course, the obvious answer to the question of a newspaper’s present-day purpose is “to keep the community informed of current events.” And “current events” may mean what is happening in local government and schools, it could mean what milestone events are happening within the community, or it could mean what pie suppers and fish fries are being held to support someone within our community who needs a hand.
It can mean celebrating achievements, or critiquing impacts. It often means neutrally relaying a critical piece of information so that readers can discuss among themselves and draw their own conclusions.
That’s all in the present day.
But the newspaper’s impact goes far beyond today and tomorrow. Every single one of those stories I just recounted to you, the ones I’m so proud of, I used newspapers from the past to write. And not just the Quill — some papers I referenced are no longer in print, and others, like the Howell County News, have changed and evolved with the times just as we have here. In either case, past issues lucky enough to be saved from lining the birdcage or fueling the wood stove were digitized or otherwise preserved so that I could peruse them and glean information to tell a modern-day story in accurate historical context.
In my genealogy research, it is newspapers that tell me how an ancestor of mine came to die at an early age giving clues to my family story — at times not much more than fascinating trivia, but at others, important clues to the family medical history.
I use old newspapers to understand context and importance behind long-running fundraiser benefits, or to answer questions that arise when I come across a name that was once prominent and isn’t anymore. When there are questions about, for example a fatal car crash, state law enforcement online records only go back a year. In order to get the information from them for a case older than that, I have to go through a process to request an official report, which requires me to know the assigned case number or the names of the parties involved. Often, going through old newspapers is more expedient.
In November, the Missouri State Highway Patrol announced it would no longer be publicizing the names of those involved in injury crashes, including the deceased. The patrol cited concerns regarding scammers exploiting people whose names were published in those reports. Last week, the West Plains Police Department put the same policy in place, without giving a reason.
I believe the patrol when it says scammers are a problem. I’ve heard from people who are affected by the issue, and scammers are opportunist predators who pounce when they see what looks like an easy mark. I confess, at the same time, I think to myself, perhaps insensitively, “How exactly does someone scam the dead?”
I also believe there are other safeguards that can be taken which don’t deprive the news industry of its roles as a chronicle of community history, or a bridge-builder within the community.
When we cannot tell our readers who in their community needs their help, they cannot decide for themselves whether they ought to. And even if they did decide for themselves, they have no central location to go for trusted information — they have to rely on a haphazard game of Telephone potentially fueled by good intentions and incomplete or wrong information.
When we cannot report in our pages who died in that terrible car crash on Dec. 21, 2024, right before Christmas, future generations are robbed of knowing their ancestors’ stories. Local historians are deprived of the opportunity to accurately assess one event’s impact on a community.
I understand why it is important to protect citizens from bad actors, and I support that. I wish it could be done in a way that didn’t withhold important information from the people who deserve it.