Jackson Free Press

The other night I was sitting in my office about 10 p.m. It had been another one of those 12-hour days that we've put in several times a week since launching this magazine last Sept. 22. It was a quiet, peaceful work night that can only happen after the crazy light of day passes and the damned phone stops ringing.

I could see into the outer office where our account/operations manager Stephen Barnette somehow had quietly just finished assembling a new desk. At that moment, he was pulling a silver $9.99 crook-arm lamp out of its box and glancing around for where he was going to plug it in. He was preparing the office for the arrival of our new Jackson State intern, Geoffrey Edwards, the following afternoon.

I suddenly and rather inexplicably got tears in my eyes and dropped my pen to watch Stephen figure the lamp out. At that moment, what this crazy project is all about crystallized for me.

Don't get me wrong: We have a several-page "cause statement" in our business plan that lays out our goals, and we're not coy about them. We want to raise the standard of journalism in Jackson, encourage voter participation, help build the small business community, write award-winning investigative stories and features that make people think. Most importantly, we want to be a diverse journalistic voice that truly reaches all parts of the city like no other. We even quote the mission of the original Mississippi Free Press: "Our purpose is to promote education and enlightenment in the principles of democracy."

In an odd way, I've already started taking our mission for granted. Yes, we strive to reach our goals everyday, and we get amazing feedback about our place in the community. We are developing a truly diverse staff and readership. We clearly cut across boundaries (our readers, after all, chose both City Councilman Ben Allen and poet Jolivette Anderson for awards). It's happening, baby.

But at the risk of embarrassing someone who is sitting in the other room unaware of what I'm typing (at 2:47 a.m., I might add), I realized the other night that this project is really about Stephen, the blond 25-year-old Southern Miss Alpha Tau Omega who sells ads all day, designs them well into the night, and then puts together desks for new interns.

Stephen inspired us to do this magazine in the first place. When we were considering coming back to Mississippi from New York City, we came to Jackson to look for a place to live. We looked at Stephen's place in Belhaven, which was delightful. More importantly, though, we listened to him for a half hour or more extol the virtues of the city he loves and talk about what needed to be done to revitalize its core. We heard him express frustration that more people don't work harder to help the city, that they don't support their local businesses. We heard him talk about how proud he was to be moving into his newly renovated loft a few feet from Gallatin Street. As we left, I said to Todd, "We've got to stay in touch with that guy."
Fast forward a year and a half, and here we all are. As Stephen screws the lamp on the table with the same attention he pays to everything, I look at the back of his head and silently dedicate the project to him, and other young people like him. It's about encouraging them to stay here (or come back), to learn and talk about difficult topics, to question, to vote. To help them enjoy all the wonderful people Mississippi has to offer, regardless of what they look like. To help them have pride of ownership of this city and this state. To get them to use their energy to change everything that needs to be changed and preserve what needs to stay.

Stephen had never sold advertising, or, I suspect, wanted to, but when plans for this magazine started to take shape, he volunteered. He wanted this to happen so badly and realized that we needed someone who believed in the project to help market it, to help bring in the advertising that enables us to do this. Because of his real interest in helping preserve and build local business, he was the perfect person to first represent us to the business community and explain what we were up to. I have a sneaking suspicion that having a frat boy like Stephen passionately explain our diversity mission might have convinced some of our early businesses that, by damn, we must mean it.

Then Alisa Price called us soon after our first issue hit the streets. We were hesitant because she sold advertising for a competitor, and we don't dig bad karma. But, like Stephen, she believed absolutely in our mission and set out to convince us with her special mix of tenacity and exuberance. Now she proves it every day, like when she sits in the middle of marked-up pages on press day and laughs and cries her way through the issue. I honest-to-God didn't know I could appreciate and respect two advertising salespeople—as if that title could do them justice—this much. They are, truly and honestly, contributors to this magazine in as powerful a way as the writers and artists.

And they respect our journalistic integrity mandate. When we explained the need for a "church-state wall" between editorial and advertising (Stephen calls it an "iron curtain"), they believed us. They understand as well as we do that selling editorial to an advertiser is not a way to run a quality publication. They know advertisers will get more mileage out of a message that runs in a credible, honest publication than one that the reader can tell is easily bought and sold. They know it's not fair (or ethical) to give a cheap deal to certain advertisers and not others. And, ultimately, they know these standards make their jobs easier, even if they have to say no every now and then. Like the rest of the staff, they have their eyes on the higher prize, and I adore them for it.

You're holding what we hope to be the first of many annual Best-of issues. While doing this issue, I realized how magical this JFP run has been so far: In seven issues, amazing writers and artists have offered their services because they, too, believe in celebrating and improving Jackson. Likewise, an awe-inspiring group of advertisers quickly put their faith into us to carry their message. I simply do not know how to thank all of you—or Bingo, Mimi, Jimmy, Shannon, Davin, Joe, Tony, Jimbo, Lori, Lawrence, JoAnne, C. M., Emily, Jennifer, Deke, Charles, the other Todd, Jaro, Alisa, or Stephen enough for believing. That thought, too, brings tears to my eyes.

For me, these are undoubtedly the best of times. Cheers to you all.

Donna Ladd is the editor-in-chief of the Jackson Free Press.