Goodbye and, most of all, thank you

I will not bury the lead. As of today, and for the first time in my working life, I am no longer tethered to the Las Vegas Review-Journal.

I started at this newspaper as a twenty-something college intern fresh off a stint in the U.S. Navy, where, I am proud to say, not one North Vietnamese nuclear submarine got past Guam in all the time I watched the depths of the Mariana Trench.

For the humor-impaired, that’s a joke.

But this is not: I’m going to very much miss being invited into your home via the Review-Journal and talking to you about the issues of the day as I see them.

I’ve done just about everything you can do at a newspaper. I started on night cops. I managed to work my way to publisher and finally to president of the company. I’ve sold ads, written obituaries, laid out a page, shot a photo, run an inserting machine and, on more than one occasion, delivered a newspaper, hat in hand, to an unhappy customer.

Now, 38 years later (almost to the day) I’ve decided to call it a career with the R-J.

Not everyone has the opportunity to work that long for the same company. That goes double for journalism companies these days, because new technology has disrupted (or has it “enhanced”?) the business model.

I’m lucky. I know that. And I’m grateful.

So, why now? That’s a fair question.

My health is good (knock on wood). I’m cancer-free four years after prostate surgery. And, although my cardiovascular system isn’t picture perfect (Thanks, Dad!), my doctors have me in reasonably good working order.

As best as I can describe it on deadline, I simply woke up one day thinking: “You know, it’s been a great ride, but it’s time.” I could press on and make it to some round number. Or I could hold out for that magic retirement age of 65 (or is it 70 now?). But those conventional ideas seem arbitrary. When it’s time, it’s time.

Perhaps it’s as simple as recognizing that all good things do, in fact, come to an end, and there are great things out there professionally and personally worth exploring, especially when you are relatively young and in good health. My relationship with the newspaper (and, gawd, I do love her) had reached that point.

What will I do? Well, first of all, I’m not going to call it “retirement.” This simply is what’s up next. It’s both an exhilarating and scary time for me.

I’ll stay in Las Vegas and Nevada, of course. This is home, with so much history, friends and family.

I will continue in an ownership capacity with Battle Born Media, a newspaper group I founded with my pal Tim Dahlberg. We started at the Review-Journal on the same day as cub reporters, and I find a cool symmetry in nurturing that venture forward.

To everyone who worked with me all those years to make the miracle of a major metropolitan newspaper happen every day, on deadline, let me say thanks. You are the best.

I had help, of course. There is no measure for the influence of mentors such as Jim Wilson, Bob Bush, Dave Osborn and Fred Smith. And I remain grateful for the opportunities given me by Jack and Warren Stephens.

But my greatest thank you extends to you, the readers. Without you, it all goes for nothing.

I’ll still be writing, of course. Stay tuned to Twitter and Facebook for updates. I also have a partially written book of essays I plan to publish.

Look for it when it’s out. I have a great story about the time, as a snot-nosed reporter, I interviewed future saint Desmond Tutu.

I also have a wonderful story about my first R-J editor, Don Digilio, and the time he invited me to attend the National Conference of Christians and Jews dinner in which mobster Moe Dalitz was named Man of the Year.

Surreal. But all of that will have to wait for another time.

For now, from this space, you have my gratitude and special wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving.

Sherman Frederick, former publisher of the Las Vegas Review-Journal, is a member of the Nevada Newspaper Hall of Fame. Read his blog and column archive at www.reviewjournal.com/columns-blogs/sherman-frederick.