Why Sketchy Scoops? Why Now?
I worked on my high school newspaper. My responsibilities included doing spot illustrations and helping to think up jokes for a weekly column that made fun of the teaching staff. Mostly though, I thought of it as an easy grade. It was a way to goof off with my friends during fifth period.
Not all students in that class demonstrated the same level of indifference towards our assignments. One kid in particular, Sam Sterling, approached the idea of running our school newspaper with a reverence that bordered on worship. He was our editor. It wasn’t long until we all started calling him Scoop.
Honestly, he was a little uptight. The only time he let himself relax was while reading one of the many noir detective novels that he loved. Four years of high school with the guy and he was never without a book. Mickey Spillane, Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett. He loved them all.
Years passed and we lost touch. I’d heard he’d landed a job at a local newspaper. The work fit him and I was happy for him because I knew he loved it. Occasionally, I would hear about how he’d won some award or had been promoted. It wasn’t very long until he’d landed a different job at a larger paper and after that I started seeing his name listed in the byline for various national periodicals.
But, something happened during the pandemic. Something that changed the trajectory of his career. I’ve never had the heart to ask for details, but his downfall happened even more quickly than his meteoric rise.
His work stopped appearing in the big papers and magazines. Just at the moment when everyone was sure that his would become a household name, he was forced out. He left the his bright future behind and sought refuge in obscurity. He tried to come home, but even our local paper refused to hire him.
Beyond his work life blowing up, my friend faced several other problems. He’d argue with me about this, but I think the biggest issue he faced was that journalism was in his blood. He’d been bitten by that reporter bug. He’d seen his name in print and couldn’t imagine any other life.
All of his other problem stemmed from that journalism addiction. Newspapers are not a great way to make a living. And you can only juggle your monthly payments so much before you run out of credit cards and generous family members. He lost his town home.
I will probably never know whether the woman he’d been dating— a fellow classmate— lost interest in him or the patience to put up with him, but the end result was the same. Their relationship ended.
The only thing he had left to his name was the 1987 Ford Econoline van. It had been my friend’s ride while we were all in high school. With that, he had a way to get around and an impromptu place to sleep if needed. Now, he travels the country looking for that big story that will put him back on top of the world.
The newspapers won’t touch his work. He’s sent in countless submissions, but all of them have been rejected. I think his fall from grace has shaken him and maybe even changed his worldview. Some of that is bound to come through in his writing.
Yet, he’s my friend. I feel obligated to help. So I’ve agreed to post his missives here on this Substack. I’ve named this newsletter Sketchy Scoops because I want to be upfront about the quality of the reporting that may appear here. I worry about him. There isn’t much I can do to improve his life, but I can do this one thing to encourage him: I can share his reports with you.
Just read it all with a skeptical eye, okay?
If you have concerns about the content or quality of the reports he submits, you can contact me directly at: jlward@substack.com
Got my attention, Scoop.