There was a brief period where I thought I might be the shortest-lived editor in Mountain Scene history.
Or perhaps the history of any newspaper.
Ever.
It was March, 2020, I’d just come back from overseas and cracked straight back into work.
We had two new reporters starting a week apart, so the focus was on getting them up to speed while getting papers out.
There was a fair whack of background noise, too, revolving around Covid and whispers of something called a ‘‘lockdown’’.
I managed to get three papers out before Allied Press’ printers were turned off.
We were told it would be a four-week hiatus.
I’d be lying if I said I believed that.
To print a paper, you need advertisers.
Who was going to advertise when no one could leave their houses, and nothing was open?
Turns out, my worry was unfounded.
To our advertising community, thank you.
You swung in behind and did everything you could to ensure Scene survived this.
I know I speak on behalf of Team@Scene when I say you will never truly know the depths of our gratitude.
Because of you, and all the people who trust us to tell their stories and fill the pages, week in and week out, we’ve made it to 50 years.
It’s no mean feat for a community newspaper, set up when a tourist visiting Queenstown from overseas actually made the ‘news’ section of the paper, particularly when you consider the pressures on this industry, at large.
Scene’s more than just the ‘‘free voice of Queenstown’’ and the Whakatipu’s community paper.
It’s a little publication that has a lot of weight — it’s respected across this country and, more often than you’d think, actually effects change at a national level, particularly when it comes to the government.
Especially in the past two-and-a-half years.
It also effects change here, on a weekly basis.
When it was first published, Scene had twin aims: a paper for tourists to find out what to do, what was on and where to go, and for locals to know what was happening in their own backyard.
Fifty years on, those things still underpin what we do every day, and that’s thanks to all the in credible people who’ve sat in the chair I’m currently keeping warm, and others.
Like the late Frank Marvin who ruffled more than a few feathers during his time as publisher — and after he stepped back — still faithfully working pretty much up till his last breath.
But internally?
That man was magnificent.
His standards were exacting, making him one of the best mentors not only to journos but sales reps, so many of whom have gone on to have illustrious careers, in this industry and others.
Ryan Keen, who, with Scoop, was part of Queenstown’s most dynamic duo, who lived and breathed this beast, and would tag-team with Scoop — Keeno could even be seen leaving work at 4am, just as Scoop was arriving.
Scoop.
Without exception the hardest-working man I’ve ever met, who’s legitimately a walking encyclopedia, who did — and still does — take such joy in mentoring young staff and is, if it’s even possible, more stoked for them when they achieve something amazing than they are.
And, since March, 2020, me.
Mostly just trying to keep my head above water.
I’ve thought about this an awful lot over the past couple of years.
If I’d known what was coming, would I have taken this job on?
Probably not.
I wouldn’t have thought I’d be capable enough.
The challenges have been, and still are, immense.
But that’s the beauty of not knowing what’s coming at you.
When your only option is to get on with it, well, that’s what you do.
As a community, that’s what we’ve all done.
When it comes to Scene, all any of the editors have ever been is a caretaker.
Each and every one, no matter how long or short their tenure, has tried their best to keep the paper in good heart for the person who’ll come in next.
I’m stoked to be the one to get her to her 50th, and I’m proud of the shape she’s still in.
We’re working on a formal acknowledgement of her jubilee … once we find our equilibrium again.
Thanks for hanging in there with us, Queenstown.
We’re honoured to be yours.
