I tell our stories for a living. Help me – and The State – keep writing them
The manager had a gun on him.
I could see the bulge in his hoodie near the waist as he guarded the door of the club. I’d been looking into the manager’s club for months. A man was killed in the parking lot, run over by a woman who was working as a stripper, sources had told me, in what the police deemed an illegal strip club, but one that the county authorities hadn’t been able to shut down.
I also had a hint at the gun because in my digging into the story of the slain man and the alleged illegal dancing, I’d found a picture of the manager strapped with the nine millimeter pistol that he captioned with a phrase that said something like, If anyone messes around in the club, I got a solution.
And as I crossed from the shadow of the parking lot into the dim glow of the club’s door, the manager was looking at me like he thought I might be likely to mess around.
This is what journalism looks like sometimes. Other times, getting an article together looks like a reporter at a desk, typing away during an interview or doing research. At least once it was listening to a former top lawman end a conversation with this sentiment, in essence — Screw the Feds. (That was the lawman’s sentiment, not mine.)
Whatever shape it takes, it’s our story. Where you live. Where we live. The job of journalism, however, doesn’t look like anything without the readers who support it. By support, I mean money. Mining for nuggets of information, digging into the depths for accountability and refining this material to a sharp point capable of carving out productive change takes time and money.
Providing information and accountability to institutions is only part of what The State is capable of. We can give you far more than information that allows you to engage in your community, a noble and necessary service itself, but only half way up the pinnacle of The State’s potential from my vantage. The State can tell the stories of the people and moments that define South Carolina and the heart of the state where most of our readers live.
It’s not as easy to tell these stories as it used to be. Newspapers like The State have been hit by cuts in advertising revenue, and now, by the harsh economic impact of COVID-19. If you aren’t already a subscriber, please consider becoming one today.
And if you are already a subscriber, consider supporting us with a tax-deductible donation that will go directly to supporting The State’s coverage of the coronavirus pandemic.
If you value the stories that live in your bones, you value what I believe is the peak of journalism.
You might be wondering what happened at the alleged illegal strip club, by now. I’m fairly certain the manager knew I was the reporter that had been writing about his club and he knew I was trying to get information about the place. I wasn’t going to press my luck, not while he was packing a Glock.
A couple of the adages that I’ve learned apply to journalism — you pick your battles and live to write another day.
Whether you support us for the articles that hold institutions and officials accountable, the tales of humanity or the simple daily reports of what’s happening in your neck of the woods, if you help The State keep writing, you’re part of the story too.
Support The State today by making a donation to our Coronavirus Reporting Fund at givebutter.com/thestate. All donations will directly fund the newsroom and its journalists.
This story was originally published May 13, 2020 at 5:00 AM.