Yes, there are still plenty of young people who want to become newspaper reporters.
Steve Landwehr wouldn't have had any problem explaining the profession's attraction. It appeals to those who yearn for a new experience each and every day they come to work, and like knowing their efforts have made a difference in the lives of others.
Steve, whose occasional contributions to this page were always much appreciated, died early Tuesday morning after having been diagnosed with cancer a month ago. Just 61 years of age, he leaves a grieving newsroom that had the utmost respect for the quiet, determined manner in which he went about his job over the past decade.
Yesterday's front-page photo that accompanied the story on Steve's passing told much about what he found appealing in the news trade. It showed him standing in front of a B-24 Liberator on which he'd flown from Plymouth to Beverly Airport back in 2004.
Flying up the coast in a World War II-era bomber had been his assignment that day. It's not your typical workday, but for those in this business, there's really no such thing.
Every day is different, and it often involves talking with people you've never met before and doing things you've never done before.
That was a big part of the allure for Steve, who came to reporting relatively late in life after sampling a wide range of career choices ranging from actor to auto mechanic.
Like all good reporters, he took pride in every story he covered whether it was a routine selectmen's meeting in Ipswich or an investigation of malfeasance within the Hamilton Police Department. His "Lives" column that ran on the front page every Monday represented a new approach to obituary-writing and won much acclaim from both colleagues and, more important, readers.
Yesterday, those who'd worked with Steve shared both tears and cheers as The Associated Press announced that he, along with reporter Chris Cassidy, had won its prestigious Thomas K. Brindley Award for public service journalism for their work exposing abuses within the Essex Regional Retirement Board.
Today, Steve's empty desk in the newsroom serves as both a sad memorial and a reminder of what this profession is all about.


