Final dispatch from the not-quite Amish Country bureau
by Jon Worley

I'll admit, I'm not the world's biggest fan of south-central Pennsylvania. I don't like the bizarre liquor laws, I don't like the high redneck quotient, I don't like the overpoweringly sour pulp mill smell and I don't like horrific traffic. Traffic? Yeah. I thought Florida was bad, and then I moved here. Four lanes to move 50,000 cars a day through downtown York. Bleah.

I will miss a few things. There are probably 50 microbreweries within 100 miles of here. The physical beauty of the Appalachian foothills is impossible to dismiss. I've used the bike trail extensively. The world's best crab dip (from the Phillie Cafe) is but steps away from my place.

And York is less than an hour from Baltimore, a town I've grown to like more and more. Lots of trees and hills, and a waterfront to boot. Ballimur may not be San Francisco, but it's pretty good. I wouldn't mind living there someday.

Most of all, though, I'm going to miss the people I met here. My wife Barbara had a job at the York Daily Record, a newspaper which has a habit of recruiting talented and ambitious journalists with every expectation that they will move on within two years. Last year, the paper won the sweepstakes award (best newspaper in the state) for its circulation category. It also is the smallest-circulation newspaper in that category. In short, the people at the YDR are very good.

Surprisingly, these talented folks are also friendly and giving. With a newsroom full of "stars of the future", people who legitimately believe that they will make it to the top of the profession someday, you might expect loads of backbiting and sniping. I certainly saw and heard plenty of that in St. Petersburg, our last stop.

But not here. The reporters and editors encourage each other instead of tearing each other down. Sure, there are the normal petty jealousies, but these folks generally manage to put those aside for the betterment of friendship and the newspaper. Instead of stealing bylines or giving minimal credit for help given on a story, most of the time co-bylines are generously given. This reduces the value of a "clip" for the resume, but it strengthens ties of respect and admiration.

And when someone moves along, they are wished well. By everyone. A recently-hired reporter said that she had been harassed and vilified at her old newspaper when she told them about her impending move to York. That simply doesn't happen here. Sure, there are plenty of folks who wish they were leaving or that they had gotten the very job their soon-to-be-leaving co-worker landed, but the goodwill given is genuine and touching. The selfless nature of the newsroom here is an amazing thing.

And it is out of character with the local populace, which seems bent on disparaging anyone who isn't white and rich. Development is the name of the game. The business of York is business, a notion cribbed from the appalling "business of America is business" concept. Screw that. As Michael Moore says over and over, you won't find the word "shareholders" in the Constitution. Lots of "by the people, for the people", but no shareholders. The business of any government should be the people, not the Chamber of Commerce.

Of course, I'm moving to the Triangle region of North Carolina, one of the fastest developing areas in the nation. Lots of ugly development, lots of guys in ties, lots of "business" types. The real upgrade I can see is a multitude of cultural opportunities (a number of art screens for movies, the massive Chapel Hill music scene, a multitude of bookstores and the general cool flavor of an area with three major universities). Education is scorned up here in York. Not so down in the Triangle.

But we go knowing that we will probably never find such a group of people as we met here. Since college, we have made a handful of close friends. Here, our hands are overflowing. When we left St. Pete, I thought I might see one or two of our friends from down there ever again. I can't imagine not seeing more than 10 folks from here in the next year. We've already made plans to join up on the seasonal camping trips (as have other YDR alumni who are within a day's drive), and there have been repeated threats of roadtrips down to Durham or Charlotte (where a former YDR editor and reporter now works). Bring them on.

And so, for the first time since graduating from college, I have a sense of sadness about moving. I'm gonna miss Julie and Kevin, Mindy and Bruce, Tina and Mark, Anna, Carrie, Teresa, Wayne, Tom, Ted, Scott, Dave, and, well, many other folks, including some who have already moved on down the road. Barbara and I haven't had an experience like this since our days on the Maneater, the student newspaper at the University of Missouri. A large group of friends working together for an express purpose (the paper) who also play together, who share their fears and dreams with each other.

I can say with confidence that I will see most of these people again, and probably pretty soon. Oh, we'll move on and spread out. Some will reach Olympic heights in journalism, and others will find new and equally rewarding pursuits. We'll be all over the country, all over the world, most likely. But we won't forget. And when it comes necessary to recharge a spiritual battery, the memory of these times and these friends will provide the spark. Looking back will drive my dreams of the future.

Jon Worley has left York, Pa. He now resides in Durham, N.C.

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