RIP, Joan Meyer
The 98-year old died after police raided her home and her newspaper -- for nothing
I cut my teeth at the Joplin Globe, where I made a lot of rookie mistakes until I learned from some of the best people — I mean that sincerely — I ever met in a newsroom.
Harlan taught me how to cover a fire. Gerard beat my copy into something readable. Tom gave me guff for my utter preciousness. Susan (another Susan, certainly not me) modeled professionalism and utter coolness. Deb walked me through the daily things a journalist needs to do to keep the wheels turning, and she introduced me to the hidden dive cafes where they serve the best chili.
Right there in little Joplin, Mo., I learned everything I needed to know about journalism.
So it is with solemn appreciation we mark the contributions of Joan (her name was pronounced “JoAnn” and earlier, some reports — including stories — got the spelling wrong) Meyer, a newspaperwoman from the land of William Allen White.
Mrs. Meyer, as does an entire army of similarly dedicated journalists in small towns around the country, might have gone unnoticed had not her weekly newspaper, The Marion County Record, been raided by police.
That raid has been roundly denounced nationwide and on Wednesday, the Mason County prosecutor said the material should be returned after a review of the seized items found that:
“insufficient evidence exists to establish a legally sufficient nexus between this alleged crime and the places searched and the items seized.”
The prosecuting attorney has asked that the evidence be returned. So this was all for nothing. In fact, this shocking display of fascist power didn’t even stop the presses, because despite having lost computers and servers and everything else you need to put out a paper, the Marion County Record published — on time — this week’s edition.
Their lead story? SEIZED…BUT NOT SILENCED.
Mrs. Meyer, 98, died a day after the raids, in mid-sentence, her son, Eric, the paper’s publisher, said, “stressed beyond her limits,” according to her obituary. Before she died, she pondered, according to the Times obit linked above, where were people who could stop such a travesty.
Sadly, Mrs. Meyer did not live to see the reaction of good people everywhere. You don’t raid newspapers, and every person involved — from the local gadfly with a drinking problem who instigated this mess to the judge who signed off on it (who’s had some DUI issues of her own) to the police who carried out the raid (more on their chief in a second) — must answer for their actions.
Meyer started at the newspaper in the ‘60s, where she worked with her husband and pretty much did everything from editing society news (which in a small town mostly consists of who ate with whom at which dinner party) to copy editing, as is required in a small news organization such as the Record. She also wrote a weekly historical column for nearly 50 years until her eyesight faltered — though she still occasionally wrote articles with the help of her son.
Her funeral is Saturday.
New subscriptions have been flooding in, and a few people even drove to Marion (one from Arizona) to subscribe in person.
So many small-town journalists do their job for decades — decades — with scant attention save for the occasional angry reader or an award from a regional journalism organization. Yet more than any one, they’re the watchdogs, hundreds of thousands strong who create oases in news deserts — where 70 million people live without a local news source. They’re the people who attend board meetings, spell your last name correctly when your child makes the honor roll, and accurately predict the weather. But it’s not just club news and honors rolls. Small-town journalists stand as bastions to make sure public funds go where they’re supposed to, and public officials do what they say they’ll do. Small-town journalists know who they’re writing about and they know where the bodies are buried. Earlier, the Marion paper had investigated allegations of sexual misconduct on the part of the town’s police chief.
Was this raid payback? We will know soon. You can bank on that. Seriously, Chief Gideon Cody, welcome to your new reality.
Sunlight really is the best disinfectant.
But mostly? Rest In Power, Mrs. Meyer. And thank you.
Mrs. Meyer was 98 BUT the stress of seeing the Gestapo-like raid at the paper’s office then their home certainly contributed to her death. So many take our freedoms for granted, let this raid on our heretofore free press be a call to action, especially this November. Even here in the land of steady habits we have an Insurrectionist running in the gQp mayoral primary in Derby! Freedom is not forever in Oceania!
Susan, I know this is particularly heartbreaking for you due to your connection to the area. Rumor has it, as in any small town, that there's some horizontal mambo action happening with the police chief, the restaurant owner, and maybe the prosecutor. I'll take that info with a grain of salt, but would not be surprised. That being said... The hubris of these incompetent buffoons thinking they could get away with this has me gobsmacked. I hope the paper sues the shit out of the police department, and in the process, expose, via discovery, this police chief for what he is. AND as for the judge who signed off on this ridiculous warrant? Lastly, Mrs. Meyer, you are now in the Great Beyond which gives you great power. Might I suggest some visits to these cretins to scare the living daylights out of them? Now THAT would be fun.