LUMBERYARD LOGS: So long to the Lumberyard

This is my last Lumberyard Logs. The next time my face is in the paper, I’ll have had to come up with a new title for this column.

We’re closing up the public office here in Laguna Beach. For the past six months or so, it’s been just me “holding the fort” here at the Lumberyard Mall. I’ve been wearing a lot of hats, as they say. In addition to being the city editor (that’s a snappy hat), I’ve been the friendly receptionist (a cheerful hat), and the fictitious business name clerk (a hat with a visor).

I’ll miss this “lofty” office, where I’ve toiled for the past four years. It’s got a lot of history, not to mention character. And characters.

One thing I’ve never understood is why our Suite 22 is between Suites 18 and 19. It’s one of those “only in Laguna” things; and I suspect it’s one of the reasons we get so little traffic.

I’m told that this loft unit has been a newspaper office for at least a dozen years. Jerry Ledbetter, editor of the previous paper ensconced here, apparently used to sleep in my office. We still get mail for Ledbetter, in fact.

He’s gone on to the great printing press in the sky so, although I could say that his ghost lives in these walls, I’ve never encountered a ghost here. Termites, yes. Excited young reporters, yes. Occasional disgruntled readers, sure. Disembodied entities, no.

Weekly newspaper offices are funny places. They’re small enough to be accessible, which is a blessing and a curse. I’ll never forget the time at my first newspaper job when a man came in angry about something and tried to strangle the sports editor. That resulted in a security gate and locking doors being installed. One of the editors had an official “crying towel” hanging at her desk to hand over to visitors who needed it.

We have had the occasional tough customer; like the man who spent his days video-taping women on the beach and then posting the videos with rude commentary on a website he operated. He came in one day with his video recorder going and demanded to know whether we would write a story about his encounters with the police if he held a press conference. I said, sure, go ahead, hold a press conference. But I didn’t say we’d go to the press conference. He never did.

This is the last newspaper office in Laguna Beach; of the three weekly papers serving the city, we were the only one with a place to hang a shingle. I was proud of that, but the fact is very few people come here; not even our advertising reps use this place any more.

The only folks who’ll likely miss this place are those looking for a “one-stop-shop” for their Fictitious Business Name filings. We usually get one or two FBN customers a day, but many days go by with nobody crossing the threshold but me.

You could attribute that to the economic downturn, but I’m not so sure about that. I think people have just found it more convenient to conduct business by phone, e-mail or fax, rather than in person.

It seems that many people nowadays work out of their homes, or out of their cars when they’re on the road. We take our work with us wherever we go. In the age of the cell phone, fax machine and Internet, designated offices just aren’t as necessary any more.

So I’ll join the ranks of the work-at-home or on-the-road bunch, where you can (so they say) attend a meeting by conference call in your bathrobe and slippers — which never appealed to me in the first place. If I get called into a conference call I’ll try to be presentable, if only to myself.

But I do like the idea of being “sprung” from the office. Newspapering isn’t 9-to-5 work anyway, and I expect that not having to “hold the fort” in a physical space will allow me to attend more community gatherings. I won’t be able to “hole up” in the office any more, watching the clock. I’ll be forced to be out and about, which will be a good thing.

Heck, I might just be forced to hang out more at the beach or at the new community center — not a bad place to “office.”

Instead of seeing the world from a downtown Laguna loft, I’ll have the whole city to think of as “the office.”

Soon, I might just be blogging from a neighborhood eatery or park bench near you.

CINDY FRAZIER is city editor of the Coastline Pilot. She can be contacted at (949) 494-2087 or [email protected].