"Newspapers say it's true, it's true/ We can break through/ Though torn in two/ We can be one/ I will begin again/ I will begin again."

This issue

I always thought newspapers held a special place in a community, not only informing and entertaining people but challenging and motivating them. A good newspaper, in my mind, helps make us all better citizens.

Breaking through for CityBeat, of course, meant many things to me back in '94. We had to prove that an intelligently written paper could attract a wide enough readership to grab advertisers' attention. We had to prove that there were enough open-minded people in conservative Greater Cincinnati to constitute a business niche. And we had to prove that alternative journalism freaks had enough business sense that the paper wouldn't collapse as soon as the bills came due.

Rereading that New Year's Day column now, I'm surprised by a couple of things. Yeah, I sound naíve and bright-eyed, and I probably was. Some people dream of changing the world, and here I was in my mid-30s taking the first steps in what I imagined would be my one shot at changing something -- my neighborhood, Cincinnati, Ohio, Kentucky, the world, whatever.

But I'm also surprised at how closely CityBeat has held to the original goals I articulated in it and other early editorials: to give voice to those in our community who do not, or cannot, speak for themselves.

"Despite what many politicians and corporate executives want us to believe, Cincinnati is not a collection of skyscrapers and department stores and stadiums," I wrote in Volume 1 Issue 1. "Cincinnati is its people: young and old, black and white, male and female, poor and wealthy, gay and straight. If there were ever a city that needed to be reminded of this fact, it's Cincinnati. ... We're on your side. We are your age, share your interests, live in your neighborhood, get angry about the same injustices. We envision CityBeat as more of a conversation between friends than a sermon from your elders."

I can honestly say that, 10 years later, helping change Cincinnati for the better remains CityBeat's core mission statement. It comes above making a profit, increasing shareholder value, building an empire or any other goal that media entities seem to be obsessed with these days.

Not that everything we've ever attempted over the past 10 years has worked. And we've certainly made our share of mistakes.

The media landscape has changed as well, leaving CityBeat as an island of locally-owned independent journalism in a sea of corporate newspapers, magazines, radio and TV stations owned by some of the country's largest conglomerates. If you think we wake up every morning thrilled at the prospect of competing for our lives against Gannett, Clear Channel and the like, you'd be mistaken.

What is thrilling, though, is how readers keep responding to what we do each week. A few years ago we became the second best-read print publication in Greater Cincinnati, and more people read CityBeat now than listen to any local radio station except WLW.

The transition from start-up to sustainability came about four years into our existence, around the time I stopped getting "never heard of it" when I'd mention CityBeat. I always remind our editorial staff that we spent the first few years jumping up and down trying to get people's attention, and now that we have it we need to tell them something worthwhile.

As this special section proves, I think we've shared plenty of worthwhile information. The staff selected 10 stories they think made a difference, from saving a Death Row inmate's life to promoting local arts and music. There's a collection of some of our favorite cover art from over the years. And there are a few insights into the world of working at CityBeat.

Frankly, fawning over ourselves with an anniversary issue makes me uncomfortable. We're just not a back-slapping organization, and that likely begins with me. I think my picture on page 30 is just the second time my photo has graced these pages -- I'm pretty sure last week's "Where Are They Now?" feature was the first.

But 10 years of being the liberal voice in a conservative town is something to celebrate. We've survived all the efforts to squelch our distribution -- sometimes organized and often just isolated incidents -- and the efforts to shut us down because we're supposedly immoral, indecent, inappropriate and/or immature.

We've survived reader complaints that we're too radical, too gay and too black and other complaints that we're too mainstream, too dull and too full of ourselves.

We've survived being kicked out of area Kroger stores four different times, having entire neighborhood business cooperatives boycott us over restaurant reviews or cover stories and a simpatico small business, the Esquire Theatre, banning us for more than three years because we exposed their film editing misdeeds.

I can't begin to talk about all the people who have made CityBeat what it is today. Literally, I can't -- there's not enough space on this page, and I know I'd leave someone off who deserves recognition.

One who does deserve a shout out, who doesn't get a chance to tell his story in these pages, is Dan Bockrath, my co-publisher since Day 1. Like a few of the staff, Dan and I go back to the Everybody's News days, though he never worked there.

He used to drop in around holidays when he'd be home visiting family in Dayton. He worked for the San Diego Reader, one of the country's largest alt weeklies, and wanted to move back to this area, become a part-owner of Everybody's News and help grow it.

It didn't work out, and Dan and I lost touch for almost a year. After meeting Tom Schiff over lunch, I called Dan that night and told him I thought I'd found an investor to fund a brand-new paper. Dan groaned and said he didn't want anything to do with a start-up.

Long story short, Dan moved back from San Diego, and he, Tom and I have been business partners for more than 10 years. I couldn't have done CityBeat without Dan, and that's no exaggeration.

He's been in charge of sales and marketing, I've been in charge of editorial. He manages getting the money in, I oversee spending it. And yet he's never wavered from supporting our editorial mission, even as we pissed off distribution spots and advertisers.

Some days we look at each other like, "Why did we get into this?" Other days it's like, "How are we getting away with this?"

Someone way smarter than me told me years ago, "You thought you were starting a newspaper, but what you started was a small business."

I don't know what they teach in business school these days, but I've learned a few lessons in the real world that I think are key: Be authentic. Be honest. Stick to your principles. Stick to your mission. Don't get lazy. You're only as good as your current issue, and you start over every week with blank pages.

Indulge us about 20 pages of back-slapping. We'll be back to normal next week. ©