We've come to expect seeing those big black boxes fill each Wednesday with a new edition that colorfully shouts some provocative headline under the NUVO banner. But when NUVO hit the streets of Indianapolis in March of 1990, the paper was merely joining an ever-changing number of other publications whose intentions ran contrary to what many saw as the singularly conservative-minded personality of the never-changing Star
NUVO's unofficial historian: writer, teacher and champion of the literary arts, Jim Powell
Still, NUVO was different indeed, the only true news source in the tradition of The Village Voice
and other big city "alternatives." It didn't cover so much the breaking stories as the ones that had languished behind bigger headlines or were banished to the inside pages. The idea of a "new voice" that focused the paper was somehow a serious birth.
Today, Indianapolis and her press scene have gone through changes but NUVO remains the only real alternative to mainstream - and some would say still conservative - coverage. This section regards an anniversary, but as these things go, 15 is, like the age, an awkward marker. It seems between things, unfinished. Perhaps what we're really offering is a celebration of NUVO's continuing change.
But to see NUVO as a teen-ager seems in many ways appropriate: Fifteen is an age of energy, perhaps a bit self-conscious, intending not so much to shout as to insist on being seen. Those more well-established may shout "loudmouth," "troublemaker" or "radical," but there's something undeniably attractive about the age itself: willful, excitable, testing and proving itself.
And we say "only" 15, but it's not as if NUVO hasn't been around. The range of issues that the paper has covered and the number of problems it has aired are unmatched by less investigative venues. NUVO has plunged in without fear, not heedless or angry, but intent on the one result a newspaper most aims for: its readers' awareness.
NUVO remains a most precocious kid. It tells us about something worth knowing that we might otherwise have let slip by. Encourages us to care. Gripes about how slow things move, but always boosts the cool stuff that's where it's at.
In March of 1990, with spring just around the corner, NUVO itself blasted boldly onto the streets. That first issue carried a heavy load of timely stories: drugs and criminal justice; neighborhoods in turmoil or rebirth; creative individuals struggling toward success.
And the first NUVO offered features not to be found elsewhere. Argumentative political opinion in the forefront - three different staff writers' worth! Critical coverage of local art. Photographs that told stories in themselves. And decidedly hip reviews of music, film and food. Even Chuck Shepherd's "News of the Weird": Some things seem not to change!
Certainly, looking through that first issue (see page 13), it would seem that both Indianapolis and NUVO have progressed, become - if not sophisticated - at least possessed of unique selves. It's amazing to think those first slim issues have become so well-filled-out. Startling that the imaginative brain has developed a working logic. Telling that the spirit has matured from contentious to caring.
Now, the coverage maintains a decidedly local focus. The stories have a still serious but perhaps more sensitive heart. Commentary intends to produce thought as much as stir controversy. Worth is not measured always by difference, but the individual remains in high esteem. Even the herd of freelance writers has become a stable of recognizable contributors.
NUVO itself has become a known figure to us in Indianapolis, one that may be pleasing or vexing, but that's always anticipated with a certain sense of suspense.
And so we present this look at where we are now: the city and this newspaper. You'll hear from former and current editors but more importantly you'll get a sense of where we have come regarding those issues and interests that made NUVO's first issue so exciting and relevant.
Undoubtedly, this retrospective section applauds NUVO a little bit. An edgy kid can use the support!
NUVO's editorial existentialism
Guys with ties: Will Higgins and Kevin McKinney circa 1990
A newspaper offers one of the few truly existential business opportunities. Its freedoms - of content, style and position - have traditionally yielded a special responsibility: to serve public interest via the unique slant the paper takes on the world of its readers. As both freedom and responsibility are exercised, the paper "becomes" a more wholly recognizable self, a freeing act that in itself provokes new responsibilities. Etcetera.
NUVO's editor for the first critical months was local native Ron Tierney, now director of communications for the Fort Mason Foundation, a cultural center in the Bay Area, and a well-regarded mystery novelist (most recently, Nickel-Plated Soul
, and watch for Platinum Canary
out later this year). Tierney remembers that "helping to put together NUVO's launch was one of the most exhaustive and most fulfilling times in my life. It was so important that the city have an independent voice." He keeps in touch with the hometown via the online edition. He cited a recent story on sex education as the kind the alternative press should be doing. "I think that the alternative press is even more important now, as the government swings steadily to the right, especially in the states that voted heavily for George Bush. I think it's clear that the mainstream news is uncomfortable criticizing the administration. And the network news is mere entertainment, run by the entertainment division. I'd like to see NUVO and the alternative press in general, without being shrill, get the facts out or at least put the questions on the table."
Will Higgins, now read as an award-winning feature writer for The Indianapolis Star
(four Best Feature awards from the AP Managing Editors Association and the Society of Professional Journalists), took over NUVO's editorship at the end of June 1990. He writes that in those early days "the irreverent tone we took 15 years ago was different, even revolutionary, for Indianapolis. I took a lot of calls from appalled people."
Higgins notes that while things have changed, the basic idea stays the same: "Today I notice that the discourse is more thoughtful, less incendiary - you can see by the letters to the editor that NUVO, as a debating society, is a vibrant place. You can see, too, that not everyone who reads the paper agrees with it - which was the point all along. But it's not the bomb-throwing stuff. I'd say that's progress." Higgins' editorship enlivened the pages for over two years, through October 1992.
Classic Hoosier iconoclast Harrison Ullmann, now deceased, then served as NUVO's editor until late in 1999, a seven-year stretch that made lots of Indiana's most notable conservatives itch. He was especially proud of NUVO's coverage of the environment, education, labor and justice: long-standing issues that received little ink elsewhere and that a weekly could "tell well." But Ullmann wanted even serious reporting to be also entertaining: "Spend five or 10 minutes with me on the page and you'll have a good time." Ullmann deserves credit for sorting out the issues in which NUVO could best invest its energy and sharpening the paper's perspective through vivid writing.
In mid-November 1999, Jim Poyser became NUVO's managing editor, steering the editorial content. While maintaining a relatively stable writing staff, Poyser's tenure has developed consistency in the freelance team that supplies much of NUVO's material and expertise. "Many of our writers and staff contain far more history with the city and their beat areas than does the competition ... People write and work for us because they are passionate about their city." He sees the paper's future as a matter of improvement more than change of mission. "Our role is still as 'outsider' ... [but] on certain subjects, NUVO can end up the most objective, sober voice in the community."
Indeed, if perhaps ironically, in NUVO's case being "alternative" hasn't precluded the paper from becoming the most consistent voice in Indianapolis news publishing. As the mainstream has reduced its local coverage, NUVO has increased its own. As the mainstream's critical commentary has lowered itself into strident opining, NUVO's has risen toward elegant reasoning. As the mainstream has lost even the most superficial analytical depth, NUVO has found its own.
Such ability to change demands a strong sense of purpose, and over the years that NUVO has been "becoming," the paper's growth seems to have been remarkably consistent in its mission. Thanks mostly, we suspect, to Publisher Kevin McKinney, the one figure here who has been present from the beginning in March 1990, NUVO has steadfastly retained a changing identity as "alternative" to the mainstream news media.
The existential process proclaims that each moment has a unique history, that the set of circumstances and people involved produces a specific environment that determines the proper responsible response. NUVO has lived through 15 years of these moments of Indianapolis' changing culture and needs. By serving them as its mission called for, NUVO has responsibly chosen to become what it has become: the city's trustworthy alternative voice.
What would Harrison say?
Harrison Ullman working in his "cave" (home), circa 2000.
A couple of years back, lots of young people were wearing WWJD on T-shirts and wristbands. It stood for "What would Jesus do?" and it was supposed to remind the wearer to consider the moral content of any proposed course of action.
I suggest we evaluate the performance of our media outlets and political institutions by asking ourselves, "What would Harrison say?"
In 2000, when Harrison Ullmann died, I wrote a column comparing him to the child in the fairy tale about the vain emperor and his clothes. Like that child, he would "ignore the politically correct pundits, the posturing wannabes and the fawning courtiers" to announce, hey, look at that, the emperor is stark naked! I can't help wondering what Harrison would be writing if he were with us today.
What would the man who described the Indiana General Assembly as "the world's worst Legislature" have to say about that anything-but-august body these days? How would he characterize the motley assortment of good-ole-boys, Elvis impersonators, culture warriors and gay-bashers whose only agenda items seem to be avoidance of taxes and refusal to live in the 21st century?
What would the man who looked askance at power and privilege, who railed against corporate welfare and pinstriped privilege, say about Halliburton, no-bid contracts, energy task forces and other elements of Washington's rampant cronyism?
How would the man who routinely condemned abuses of power have reacted to the Patriot Act, the revelations about Abu Ghraib or the indefinite detentions at Guantanamo? (For that matter, what on earth would he have said about John Ashcroft?!)
I can only imagine what the man who defended Indianapolis Public Schools and its teachers against ideologically motivated critiques would have written about the profoundly dishonest "No Child Left Behind" legislation, or how the man who cared so passionately about social justice would have characterized the "compassionate" conservatism of the Bush Administration. I don't even want to imagine his reaction to recent disclosures that syndicated columnists have been accepting Bush Administration money to promote its agenda.
Five years after his death, I feel the loss of Harrison Ullmann more than ever, because if we have ever needed contrarian voices, fearless truth-tellers and honest information brokers, we need them now.
Harrison and I were great friends, but we disagreed constantly. We argued about everything from the free market to labor unions to Unigov. Harrison's voice was important not because he was always right (although he very frequently was), but because he was always principled. If he said something, you knew he believed it. He wasn't part of some carefully constructed political echo chamber; he wasn't providing "infotainment" or using controversy to generate ratings. He was telling it like he saw it; he was incorruptible, passionate and fearless.
And he was funny. I remember a column he wrote not long after the religious right started ranting about "the assault on family values." In his very best matter-of-fact tone, Harrison wrote a column "describing" a meeting he had "infiltrated," where the various villains - Democrats, Jews, gays, members of the "atheistic liberal media" - were plotting how they would destroy the American family. It was hysterical, and a much more effective demolition of radical right idiocy than a point-by-point exposition of the underlying political agenda would have been.
Harrison was always critical of "mainstream" newspapers and television reporting, but he would have been utterly appalled by what passes for news and analysis today. Ownership of media outlets has been increasingly concentrated in a small number of corporate moguls interested primarily in the bottom line, and the results are all around us. Talking heads shouting opinions are cheaper than reporters investigating and delivering news, so self-important "pundits" dominate television. Daily newspapers keep getting thinner; what's left is more "human interest" and less actual news.
Harrison was old-fashioned when it came to the profession of journalism. He believed it was the responsibility of the Fourth Estate to keep government honest - to be a watchdog, not a lapdog. He believed the media should be scrupulously independent, that it should report on government actions, not lobby for government favors.
If he were still with us, what on earth would Harrison say?
NUVO's premiere issue
A quick glance at NUVO's very first issue provides what is probably the most essential difference between then and now: the 50 cent price tag. That's how we started this newsweekly. We quickly came to our senses and began charging $5 a copy, but hey, for you, it's free.
In this section, you'll find two stories we selected to update, but throughout the first issue, there are startling contrasts and eerie similarities to Indianapolis, 2005. For example, the cuisine feature that first issue was on Bazbeaux and Some Guys Pizza, still two of our favorite pizza haunts. Coincidence abounds: The Broad Ripple Bazbeaux location was a frequent lunch stop when NUVO was across the street. When we moved out of Broad Ripple in 2002, who moved into - and expanded upon - our office? Bazbeaux.
Personnel? Look at our current masthead (pg. 3) and compare it to the primordial NUVO masthead and there's only one name that's the same: Kevin McKinney.
Any other specific similarities? News of the Weird. That's right, Chuck Shepherd's weekly compilation of bizarre but true news began that very first issue. Talk about weird.
There were locally generated columns (including one by then Senior Editor Bill Craig; see pg. 14 for his story), which we still do, of course (see Hammer and Hoppe) ,and there were also stories lifted off the proverbial syndication wire, something that we almost never do these days, opting instead for local stories written by local writers.
We covered music; Dean Lozow wrote in that initial issue about Datura Seeds (led by Paul Mahern, who continues to be one of the leaders of our music scene), Vulgar Boatmen (led by Dale Lawrence, who continues to be a force in music, literature, you name it) and Frank Dean, whose band Sindacato is a rocking local favorite. One sentence in particular jumps out in Lozow's "Poptones" column: "Vess has left JOT." Even in those days, Vess didn't need a last name.
There are a lot of familiar names in the jazz listings. Musicians such as Tim Brickley, Frank Glover, Claude Sifferlen, Dick Dickinson and Steve Allee were performing in venues that still thrive, such as the Chatterbox.
The Calendar listings include a critic's pick on Dance Kaleidoscope, "Presenting the Indiana premiere of 'Unbreakable,' featuring eight dancers, juggling and dancing on glass jars." Believe it or not.
On Indy stages: The Colored Museum
at the Indiana Repertory Theatre, A Midsummer Night's Dream
at Christian Theological Seminary, Rocky Horror Show
at the Phoenix Theatre, My Fair Lady
at Beef & Boards Dinner Theatre and The 1940s Radio Hour
at Civic Theatre, and Don Carlo
presented by Indianapolis Opera.
In visual arts, Brian Fick had his paintings at 431 Gallery. Fick was the subject of the "Art Beat" column written by the recently-deceased Doris Hails. Lois Main Templeton was showing her work at Patrick King Contemporary Art Gallery, and while that gallery is no longer, Templeton is still going strong.
Henry Lee Summer: living the life
Fifteen years ago, in NUVO's debut issue, Henry Lee Summer's message to its original readers was, "Tell everybody how excited I am about music, how much I love music. I've never been more excited."
Known for an international hit single ("Wish I Had A Girl") in the 1980s and a brief bout with music superstardom that included a Late Night with David Letterman show appearance, Summer was ambitious about making a comeback.
Now, at the age of 50, Summer is living the life that others can only dream about. Due to some savvy business moves his manager, Jim Bogard, made in the '80s, he lives quite comfortably with his wife and four children on the Northside.
"I'm not rich, but I don't have to work," he says. "I basically retired in 1992, but my kids go to private school, but that has nothing to do with me. If it wasn't for Jim Bogard, I'd be in the same boat as anyone else. I'd be playing six nights a week at the Holiday Inn or something."
One thing hasn't changed about Summer over the years, however: He still loves music. He loves making it. He loves listening to it. He loves talking about it. And he's quite happy with the life he has.
Once a week, he'll perform with the Alligator Brothers at Lulu's, playing drums and taking very little of the spotlight. He chose the Wednesday gig because it's "my wife's night out, so I can go out and play," he said.
During the day, he practices on drums and is trying to teach himself to play other instruments as well, just because he wants to. He has a roomy studio adjacent to his house where he can make all the noise he wants and not bother his family.
He says he's recording an album but is ambivalent about releasing it. "It's not like there are a million people clamoring to hear it or waiting in line to buy it," he says. "It's something I want to do for myself."
He started performing at the age of 10. "That's 40 years of working," he says, "and that fact is just hard to believe. I spent what feels like 30 years on the road and I'm happy now where I am."
He still has ambitions, though; he says his goal is to write the perfect rock song. "Sometime before I kick the bucket, I want to write one great song. I want to write something like 'As Tears Go By' or anything by the Beatles. Something that, no matter who plays it, people will know it's a great song." He's still working on that.
"I'm like 99.999 percent of any of the people who've ever played rock and roll music," he says. "There's that 1 percent of Princes or Bob Dylans who come along and create new music. The rest of us just regurgitate what we heard growing up."
It might surprise some of the people who witnessed Summer's frantic live performances in the 1980s that he's a family man living a quiet life. But to Summer, "I feel like I'm the luckiest guy in the world. I have a great family and everything I need."
He still reads NUVO, although, as a Bush supporter, he disagrees with some of its content; and, he still follows the local music scene. He says he supports every musician in the city and wishes them luck.
He says, "Sometimes people ask me what it's like to be a has-been. I look them in the eye and tell them that at least I did something. I'm not a never-was. And I'm proud of it."
Irvington gets booze and much more
Way back in the '90s, Irvington was a dry community. And, with the local chapter of the Women's Christian Temperance Union watching like blue-haired hawks, the demon rum wasn't about to begin flowing anytime soon in this up-and-coming Eastside suburb.
Those '90s weren't the 1890s - no, thanks to a covenant that dates back to Irvington's birth in 1870, booze sales weren't allowed there all through the 1990s.
When Darrin Strain wrote about the Irvington neighborhood in NUVO's first issue in 1990, he noted that the anti-alcohol covenant would put off potential restauranteurs. He was right.
Fast forward to 2003. John Robertson and his family, Irvington residents since 1991, decided to quit complaining about the lack of nice restaurants in the neighborhood and open their own on Washington Street.
Robertson didn't push the issue with alcohol sales at The Legend right away, but took his time to establish allies and allow the restaurant to become accepted as part of the community. Then, in early 2004, he began the process of applying for a beer and wine license. "We knew it would be opposed," he said. "So my wife and I talked with the people who we knew would be against it."
After gathering signatures - 90 percent in favor of breaking the covenant at The Legend - and getting the support of the Irvington Community Council, Robertson filed for the permit. One remonstrator showed up at the hearing process. This person wasn't from the Women's Christian Temperance Union. "We didn't hear anything from the WCTU," he said. Apparently, the Irvington chapter - last in the city - has died off.
In June of 2004, The Legend began selling beer and wine in the heart of Irvington. "The people in the neighborhood believed it was time for that to change," Robertson said. "So we took the plunge. We've had some success. The restaurant is becoming what we envisioned for the neighborhood."
Dawn Briggs, one of Irvington's more active citizens for the last 20 years, enjoys having The Legend in the neighborhood. "It has been a boon for Irvington," she said. "It's wonderful to be able to walk up to the corner and have a glass of wine with my dinner."
But covenant breaking isn't the only big news in Irvington. In 2004, Irvington received a $1.1 million federal historic preservation grant for beautification. Its first payment of $500,000 has already come and will be used to spruce up the community's "Main Street" area along Washington Street. Irvington is also enjoying the benefits of a Neighborhood Plan implemented last year through the city's Department of Metropolitan Development and Ball State University.
"It's going very well here," Briggs said of the neighborhood known for its large and beautiful homes and its curvilinear cobblestone lanes. "I truly live in a neighborhood village. It's just like a small town. I love it."
Going after sacred cows
NUVO's first senior editor remembers
Fifteen years ago last month, I got a call from a headhunter asking if I might be interested in interviewing for a position at a new magazine in Indianapolis. She couldn't tell me what kind of a magazine it was, nor what the position might be.
"Why not?" I said, thinking it couldn't be worse than the last one they had arranged for me. That one was for the editor's job at American Legion Magazine
. After a pleasant (albeit brief) chat, the interviewer and I concluded that our political views were probably too divergent for us to coexist in an employer/employee relationship.
The NUVO interview was much different. I was told to go to the fifth floor of the building next door to The Indianapolis Star/News
on North Pennsylvania Street. When I came out of the elevator all I could see were dank columns and empty office space. No people, no furniture, just florescent fixtures dangling from open ceiling tiles.
Walking down the stairs my thoughts turned to how I would cut loose the headhunter who kept sending me on these wild goose chases. When I hit the second floor landing, though, there were voices coming from an office just inside the hallway. It turned out to be the guys who were waiting for me: Publisher Larry Rainey and Editor Ron Tierney.
Rainey started the interview by asking me to summarize my experience in circulation.
Circulation? What the hell was he talking about? I told him about my two bike routes during junior high school. Then Tierney pulled some of my clips out of a box and said he wanted to talk to me about the senior editor position. We talked for several hours and, by the time I left, I had become indoctrinated in alternative journalism - and become the first non-owner NUVO editorial staffer.
Actually, it wasn't NUVO yet. At the time I interviewed, the name of this new publication was to be Indianapolis Extra
. It became NUVO when our neighbors at The Indianapolis News
decided to use the name before we were in print, as a header for their new local entertainment section. That was the first of many competitive jabs the dailies threw at us. Each one, starting with their use of a legal maneuver to steal our name, served to elevate us.
The name wasn't the only thing that changed for us over the first several months. We evolved from a well-staffed, paid circulation news and entertainment magazine with glitzy offices on publishers row to a small, free-controlled newsweekly published on a shoestring from very modest Broad Ripple digs. My office had a sawdust floor.
Scary as those days were, this turned out to be the model that worked from which to build a real functioning alternative to the mainstream Indy news media. Kevin McKinney took over as publisher and Will Higgins came in as editor. My title was still the same but all of us did a little bit of everything, including circulation. Each Wednesday, McKinney, Higgins, Arts Editor Charlie Sutphin and I would load up our cars and spend the rest of the day dropping off NUVO. My route went from Broad Ripple to Carmel to Castleton to Oaklandon and back to Broad Ripple.
Our sales guys struggled to sell enough space to give us 10 or 15 pages of editorial. We were fearless in using it to go after as many sacred cows as we could.
We exposed government wrongdoings in stories like the one on the inequities built into the Prosecutor's Office computer system, grossly biased against criminal defendants and their public defenders. There were many stories on mistreatment of minorities by the Indianapolis Police Department and the payoff system that had been put in place to keep them covered up. We uncovered malfeasance in the city's welfare system and went after the Department of Corrections and some of their rogue employees who were running Indiana prisons like their own private businesses.
One day, a taxi pulled up out front and a guy dressed in hospital garb got out and walked into our front door. Several probes were hanging from his skin. He became the focus for a piece one of our guys did on Lilly's human test subjects.
Some of our most fun stories involved labor practices and corporate infighting at The Star/News
. We always had moles in the editorial departments but as we grew in circulation and respectability, many of the other employees also came to us to air their grievances. One day, a group of us returned from lunch to find a large Star/News
delivery truck parked at our front door. Inside was an irate driver eager to tell us about a morning meeting announcing a series of cutbacks.
On another occasion one of our people infiltrated a private shareholders meeting with a hand-held tape recorder. He recorded comments from large shareholders complaining about our harsh treatment of them and their families. Needless to say, our staff took those remarks as validation of our efforts.
I have never been involved with any group before or since that has been as devoted to a journalistic cause. Without taking ourselves too seriously, we worked to help bring about political and social change in a place change was sorely needed. Ultimately, it worked and Kevin McKinney has continued to build NUVO into one of the top alternative weeklies in the country. I feel very fortunate to have played a role at its inception.
After NUVO, Bill Craig started another alternative weekly in Bloomington. He is now the director of the Publications Corporation of the Bloomington Board of Realtors, producing real estate magazines for several cities around the state. He is also editor and chairman of Midwest Media, which publishes Midwest Running Magazine and its national Web site, midwestrunning.com.
Truth to power
A hunger for justice and free tickets
In the spirit of Hunter S. Thompson, who left us recently just when we needed him, the historical accuracy of the details below is less important than the deeper truth reflected.
November 1992. Seasonal Affective Disorder was kicking in, but some Elvis dude had bumped the CIA out of the White House, and one could almost glimpse a bright future for America. Folks naïve enough to think that truth mattered could be forgiven for lapsing into a delusional optimism.
A shaky but well-intentioned venture called NUVO Newsweekly had fled its tony offices downtown for a dark, drafty cave on Westfield Boulevard. Though now the building is a stylish eatery, then it was a shoddy maze of unfinished walls, exposed ducts and black plastic sheeting on the ceiling, not unlike your annual neighborhood haunted house. A hodgepodge of furniture sat on concrete floors. Random dishware was strewn about the tiny kitchen.
"The book," as we called our weekly product, spanned a whopping 16 to 20 pages. The staff numbered around 20, of whom only four had passed age 30.
Drama, not surprisingly, was no stranger to the NUVO offices. "Creative" types battled for the title of Supreme Pain in the Ass. Emergency staff meetings were called to hash out concerns over unseemly romances and illicit recreation. Men were warned to steer clear of the classified advertising department, a vicious hormonal gauntlet dubbed the Henhouse by its primarily female occupants.
But all aboard were driven by higher ideals - a hunger for truth, beauty, justice and free tickets to entertainment events.
The editorial staff, all three and a half of them, often challenged each other with diverse viewpoints, but their strivings boiled down to one vital question: What the hell are we going to put on the cover next week?
Occasionally, however, the answer to that question was a delightful surprise, a plucky, solid news story that spoke truth to power. Nowadays, those occasions come regularly and, at least from the outside, they don't seem like accidents anymore.
NUVO's writers and artists show insight and humor, and they win buckets of awards. The content reflects at least a token level of adult supervision. The newspaper lives in a nice multistory building on Meridian Street - a stone's throw from respectable institutions like the United Way and Lilly Endowment - and the halls no longer echo with the screams of long ago: Where is the f-ing ad for page 12?! How could you f-ing sleep with him/her/them?! What are these little seeds all over my desk?!
Yes, even to the occasional visitor, it's clear that our little NUVO has grown into a fine adult - or at least a relatively mature adolescent - of 15. Now more than ever, our city, state and nation need dissenting voices, and NUVO continues to be that.
Writer Scott Hall is a longtime contributor and long-ago employee of NUVO.