Last week I learned that the alternative weekly newspaper I'd worked for in the early 2000s was closing. I've been feeling very nostalgic about the paper itself and ultimately the job that simultaneously nearly ruined my life and was the most fun a 20-something could have... ever. There's a lot that's been written lately about the special place The Phoenix held in Boston media. It was a significant source of alternative news, the premier resource for arts and music coverage, and at one time, prior to Craigslist, the best place to find an escort. As a reader, it was all those things (minus the escort-stuff ) to me, and more.

While other workplaces had sexual harassment training, I learned to accept sexual harassment as an essential part of the workplace. It was filled with characters. The storied Publisher Stephen Mindich was small in stature but large in personality. Always sweet to me, he was known to throw punches at staffers at the annual Holiday party, but welcomed me back to the Phoenix after a failed job attempt elsewhere, and truly cared about the quality of his paper (and almost as much about the radio station and the fluff nightlife pub I worked) and its legacy.
The place nearly destroyed my personal life: it may have given me (and many others) a drinking problem, and inspired numerous breakups with my now-husband. It was like college, only better. Many parties, many open bars, and never having to stand outside of a club or bar in a line, were just a few of the perks.
As with any quality media outlet, there was a division of church & state between the editorial staff and the sales staff and the two sides only met in the smoking room. While other workplaces banned smoking in the early 2000s, we embraced our smokers and their rights. I loved that smoking room, and I loved the eccentric personalities in that room.
The Phoenix was a revolving door for talent. Great writers, creatives, and sales people got their start here and moved on to bigger and better things. It gave me the confidence and entrepreneurial fearlessness to start my own business before I was thirty. Thank you Boston Phoenix for all your life-changing experience. I'll not soon forget, and Boston will never be the same.
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