From the publisher: Reflecting upon 20 years of the Henrico Citizen

I never expected to own a business, much less start one – and certainly not at the age of 24. But after I mailed a $75 check to the State Corporation Commission sometime in July 2001, I suddenly had checked all three boxes. The Henrico Citizen was born, officially, a month and a half later when our Sept. 20, 2001 print edition rolled off the printing press of the Herald-Progress in Ashland.

That was 20 years ago today – a reality that is equally staggering and not.

That evening, as I stuffed thousands of bundled copies of our inaugural edition into my overwhelmed red coupe in parking lot of the H-P, I recall thinking, “What have you gotten yourself into?” I’m still not really sure I know the answer.

How has it been 20 years? How has it ONLY been 20 years?

Those questions have me feeling a bit nostalgic, perplexed, proud, disappointed, amused, regretful and hopeful today, so pardon my long-winded attempt to reflect upon two decades as a publisher…

Nostalgic as I recall those early years, when print deadlines meant late-night weekend hours twice a month, proofing pages at 3 a.m. on a Monday night, loading the final document onto a CD, then driving it to the now-defunct H-P to slip it beneath the door under the cover of darkness so it could be printed later that morning – then returning home to catch a few hours of sleep and assure myself we’d finish sooner next time. (We rarely did.) Less nostalgic about the number of hours we spent delivering many copies of each finished product ourselves every two weeks, to dozens upon dozens of businesses countywide. The three cars I’ve owned almost always smelled of newsprint and ink. Today, we're fully digital, but so far my car doesn't seem to have that internet scent.

Perplexed as I wonder “How have we survived for two decades despite a foreign attack, a pandemic, two recessions, lots of competition, very little money and seemingly even less time?”

Proud as I answer that question: With more stubborn determination than we should have had, given all of the above. I’ve operated the Citizen under the simple premise that just because we’re small doesn’t mean that readers’ expectations of us should be. We’ve always taken pride in producing a caliber of original journalism that wouldn’t seem out of place at a much larger outlet with many more resources. We have high standards for our work because our readers should, too. That we’ve earned 237 awards for excellence in journalism and advertising in our two decades is personally meaningful to each of us but mostly just serves as confirmation to me that we have met those expectations accordingly.

Disappointed that we haven’t been able to do more, cover more or hire more staff members; that our revenues never have allowed for the growth that I’ve sought for most of our existence; that “success” has mostly just meant “survival;” that COVID brought about the sudden and unexpected end of our print edition in March 2020, when almost all of our advertisers pulled out; that we frequently have to pass up great stories because we simply don’t have anyone to write them.

Amused when I consider some of the strange or ridiculous things that have happened along the way, from being ghosted by a short-term employee to having another move all of his personal belongings into the office for a period of several months (don’t ask).

Regretful that the nature of trying to do a lot more with a lot less has created for me a constant barrage of endless work, often completed in solitude, and left me little time to develop and nurture more personal relationships with the people we cover and those who make our community what it is. Regretful, too, that work often has made personal time for vacations or outings with friends and family difficult, and that had I taken literally almost any other career path during these two decades, my savings account would have been much happier.

Hopeful because in the past 18 months, since we made the quick and necessary transition to a fully digital, daily weekday publication, our average monthly readership on HenricoCitizen.com has more than tripled from its pre-pandemic totals to nearly 70,000 unique readers; because in that time, we have earned company-saving grant money from Facebook, received funds from Google and been accepted as only the second Report for America host newsroom in Virginia – and as a result, hired our first-ever full-time reporter (Anna Bryson, who covers education); because we’ve published more than 2,300 individual articles, briefs, events and other pieces of coverage during the past 12 months – an average of more than 6 every day of the year; because thanks to reader generosity, we’ve raised more than $20,000 to help pay some of our basic functional needs during that time; and because we’ve helped keep this community informed about COVID-19, education, government spending, construction, transportation, local housing issues, social justice and much more with original coverage usually not available anywhere else.

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When I started the Citizen, I was three years out of college, looked like I was still in high school, had no formal business training, no written business plan and little sense of the naïveté with which I was entering small business ownership. I knew what meaningful journalism looked like, though, and was confident that if we could deliver enough of it, everything else would magically fall into place. I was wrong, of course – turns out I don't know much about magic – but somehow we’ve managed to survive anyway.

As I contemplated starting the company, following three years at a long-since-defunct family of Henrico publications, my dad issued a piece of typically sound advice. “The worst thing that happens,” he said, “is that it fails in a year or two, you’re 25 or 26, and you go get another job.” He was right, but hearing it out loud gave me enough confidence to try. It’s difficult to start a business if you’re giving up a comfortable salary and time with a family to do so. I was single and had nothing to lose, so the risk was minimal.

And it has been made less so thanks to some incredible employees who took a risk in moving over with me from our previous place of employment and who have played critical roles in the years since.

Managing editor Patty Kruszewski has been the face of the Citizen to so many in this community, a ubiquitous presence in every corner of the county during these years, someone who has never met a stranger and who has a knack for uncovering and beautifully relating human stories that resonate with readers and enhance the community. Patty has been unwavering in her commitment to our cause, her pride in our role here and her devotion to her championing the people, places and events that make Henrico what it is. She’s continued to do so even through deep personal tragedy, and for her loyalty, integrity and talent, I will be forever grateful. She’s earned the lion’s share of our awards – and deservedly so. The Citizen doesn’t exist today without her.

Online and events editor Sarah Story has spent all but a few of these 20 years with us, as a jack-of-all-trades. Whether meticulously gathering and cultivating an extensive list of calendar items each month, managing our email newsletters, posting articles to our website, or doing any number of other tasks that are necessary in the day-to-day operations of a newsroom, Sarah has been our rock. Her efforts to contribute the company’s success have extended well beyond her salaried hours, and thankfully she’s much more organized than me. She’s our behind-the-scenes hero.

Nothing that lasts two decades does so because of one person, or even a few. It requires a community, a family, or both to carry it that far. The same is true of the Citizen – I may have given it life 20 years ago, but it’s been raised by many more people than just me, Patty and Sarah.

Though we’ve never had more than a handful of employees at any given point in time, there are dozens and dozens of people who’ve worked for us or with us at some point during our 20 years – from freelance writers to salespeople, contributors and college and high school interns. In total, they probably number more than 100. Each played a role in solidifying ours in this community and in helping us reach this milestone, and I’m grateful for their contributions.

Without the support, love and encouragement of my parents, my wife, my two sons, and my sister, we wouldn’t be turning 20 today, either. They’ve believed in the Citizen, and in me, even when at times I didn’t, and there aren’t sufficient words to express what they mean to me.

We've called the Lakeside community home for the entirety of our existence, and we've watched it grow and change with us. It was the one part of Henrico I knew little about 20 years ago when we started, but its determined spirit and blue-collar work ethic has provided the perfect setting for us, and it's where we belong.

I have no great advice to impart to would-be small business owners or publishers, but I’m proud of the fact that my small team and I have continued to show up day after day, month after month, year after year. That’s how we’ve made it this far. We’ve tried and failed many times in many ways during our two decades, and those failures are mine. I’ve learned much as a business owner but still have much more to learn.

But what keeps me going is that I know that scattered throughout Henrico (and, by now, places far and wide) there are yellowing copies of print editions of the Citizen that matter to people whose names appeared in them, the way that similar copies of papers from my Northern Virginia hometown still matter to me. I know that there are tens of thousands of people who have learned something about Henrico from reading our print editions, our website or our email newsletter, listening to my daily weekday podcast or following us on social media that they might not have known otherwise. And I know that our work has helped foster connections – between readers and their neighbors, between businesses and customers, and between citizens and government, among many permutations.

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The plight of local journalism has been well-documented in the post-COVID era. Newsrooms are slashing staff, cutting or reducing print editions, bleeding money, losing advertisers, or shutting down altogether. This region just witnessed an example of the latter, with the unfortunate closure of Style Weekly, a staple of Metro Richmond for nearly four decades. There’s not a local outlet in this nation that hasn’t felt some negative effects in recent years – first from the shift in advertising dollars away from our products and then from the impact of the pandemic.

I've been closer to pulling the plug on the Citizen several times than I would care to admit. The pandemic cost us about 90% of our anticipated annual revenue, and attempting to rebound from that type of hole has been a daunting task. Recovery for us, as for many small businesses, has been slow and arduous – and we're not where we need to be yet.

Add to that the fact that a good chunk of our nation now disparages journalism and journalists regularly, viewing us as inherently biased, intentionally misleading and generally worthless, and it's hard not to wonder sometimes, 'Why are we still doing this?' Like any profession, we certainly have bad actors who provide ample evidence for those opinions. But I became a journalist because I wanted to learn – and to help others learn, too. I’ve tried to operate the Citizen with that goal in mind.

To me, the value of journalism – especially local journalism, like the coverage we produce five days a week – is clear and simple when you ponder the alternative.

If every local news outlet in the nation like this one folded tomorrow, would we all be better or worse off than we are today? Would we feel more informed about the places we call home, or less informed? Would we feel more connected with each other – with our governments, our neighbors, our businesses, our schools and our community organizations – or less connected? Would we be more engaged with our communities – and the people and places that make them unique and special – or less engaged?

You’ve probably heard – and possibly brushed off as hyperbole – the notion that the evaporation of local journalism is a threat to our democracy. And while the loss of a newsroom here or there will not independently invalidate the Constitution, consider that our nation relies upon its citizens and governments to make a plethora of decisions regularly – presumably informed, educated and legal ones. Without journalists to help inform citizens and hold governments accountable, this process quickly becomes a murky one, or something far worse.

I challenge you to read the Henrico Citizen five days a week and not learn new things about Henrico County weekly. It’s impossible to do, because those of us who work here learn something every week, too. And that’s part of what keeps us doing what we do.

For the past 20 years, we’ve done our best to tell the story of life in Henrico County. It’s been our honor and privilege to do so, and despite the challenges that we’ve faced and continue to face, we are more determined than ever to continue telling that story.

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