Last letters from STU 421

Christina Chkarboul – associate managing editor

The Daily Trojan has called our corner room on the fourth floor of the Student Union home for at least 60 years. The computers we use to make the layout of our “daily miracle” have changed, the messy inscriptions on our white boards have been erased and rewritten countless times, and generations of Trojans who love writing, creating and serving as USC’s voice have walked in and out of the newsroom’s doors. The red and white walls of this space, which has stepped in as a community and a home for us semester after semester, adorned with framed awards and issues, have seen the paper through history.

It is with a heavy heart that I write that the space the paper currently occupies will be ours no longer starting this fall. Through no choice of our own, the whole of Student Publications — composed of the Daily Trojan and El Rodeo yearbook staff, along with seven professional staff members who chiefly manage circulation and advertising — will relocate to a set of rooms down the hall that’s 40% smaller than our current space.

The change is part of the greater reorganization of the Student Union, which will see the expansion of several cultural centers, including the Latinx Chicanx Center for Advocacy and Student Affairs and Asian Pacific American Student Services, and the creation of a shared cultural space in the rooms currently occupied by the Daily Trojan’s production. 

The University, through its Student Affairs department, announced the plans to the paper’s senior staff late Fall 2022. The move, which was presented not as a proposal but as an order, came as a shock to us, and we presented counter-plans over the course of a month to try and regain some of the space we’d be losing. In no way does the Daily Trojan oppose the growth of cultural spaces at the University; we don’t believe, however, that such improvement should come at the expense of stripping our 111-year-old paper of our longtime workspace.

The current newsroom, located in STU 421, is where I’ve made the bulk of my college memories — from copy-editing on the lumpy red couch as a quiet freshman, to staying until the wee hours of the morning to put a special edition to bed, to watching campus pulse underneath from our wraparound balcony. It’s where I learned to write soundly, edit sharply, and lead with intention and compassion. It’s from the news desk in the corner that I solidified my intention to pursue journalism, and on this ripped couch that I met some of the smartest, most passionate people I know.

Our newsroom means so many things to so many students and alumni whose USC experience was enriched and, for some, defined by the toil and joy of staffing a daily newspaper. To commemorate the last issue of the Daily Trojan published from this cherished room, a number of current masthead members have written letters to bid ol’ STU421 farewell. 

Patrick Warren – associate managing editor

The first time I stepped into the newsroom was to serve as former sports editor Adam Jasper’s assistant a bit over a year ago. I had written for the Daily Trojan for longer than that, but the newsroom — at least back then — was a space largely only populated by people on masthead. 

I later spent many, many more hours in the newsroom as a sports editor and managing in the following semesters. It was in STU 421 that I was reminded of the importance of copyrighted images. It was in the newsroom that I raced sports editor Jason Lopez Lopez in a lasagna-eating contest and suffered a quick defeat. It was in the newsroom that I continued figuring out what I wanted to do after graduation. The newsroom’s departure is synchronized with mine. I am excited to see the work that the first occupants of Newsroom 2.0 produce, but know that for those who called STU 421 home, there will always be something missing from the Daily Trojan.

Victoria Lee – wellness and community outreach director

As I sat in Leavey Library, staring blankly at my computer screen, I couldn’t escape the feeling that my life was slipping away, second by second, like the steady ticking of a clock on the wall. The constant pressure to meet expectations had turned me into a machine, always moving but never truly living. 

Despite this feeling, there was one place where time seemed to stand still: the newsroom. Here, I found refuge from the demands of daily life and the never-ending pursuit of perfection. It was a place of firsts, where I took interviews, studied for midterms and received acceptance calls. Whether it was climbing out the French bifold windows onto the balcony or napping on the big red couch, the newsroom provided a space where I could simply be.

In a way, in moments like these, the clock stopped ticking. At least for a little while.

Sage Wheeler – editor-in-chief

It could be the STEM major in me, or my alarmingly weak visual memory, but I remember my time in the newsroom as numbers more than images or words:

1024 articles edited;

14 bylines of my own;

27 mini-hoop dunks;

4 fish fed, briefly;

3:16 a.m., my latest leave;

1 night slept in the editor-in-chief office;

3 veritable crises;

52517 slack notifications;

2 exasperated cries;

864 hours worked;

5 programs learned;

627 staffers hired;

38 crosswords completed;

13 CCMA awards;

6 nicknames received;

22 calls to home;

and 45 friends made.

As far as laughs, AP style tips and end-of-day goodbyes, I’ve lost count. Come next year, we at the paper will have lost something, too. But our aggregate experience — the tallied-up joie de vivre of STU 421 — won’t be misplaced.

Jonathan Park – news assignments editor

I brought over my friend who isn’t in the Daily Trojan to the newsroom once, a little before production started, to get our work done in peace and quiet. A saxophone crooned somewhere off in the distance. The wind blew faintly, through those creaky white-framed windows. Half an hour later, we’re tired of the work, and we started talking. He told me the place felt “homey.” I asked him why. He thought about it for a while.

“I don’t know,” he said, finally. “I don’t know.”

It’s a curious thing, the effect this room has on people. It’s by no means the cleanest, or the most spacious, or the most sleek or modern. The tables are uneven; one of them has a drawer filled with half-eaten chips. (Blame last year’s news editors.)

But every day when I walk in, there’s an instant feeling of comfort, as if this place is a third home — besides my dorm and my parents’ house. In the controlled mess of it all, there’s a sense of history, of people who have come and gone, and left pieces of their work, and their souls, behind. The framed front pages from 2008, the old 1992 El Rodeo yearbooks in the printing room, the corkboard of sports photos in the podcast room — all of it reminds you that you have breathed the same air and sat in the same chairs and worked the same long hours as these people, that there’s a legacy which has been maintained, and is now up to you to continue.

As we move into a new place, I can’t help but feel that we will lose some of that magic, and it tears me apart. But as the cliché goes, every end is a new beginning. We, the first generation of the new newsroom, will breathe the first life into that space; generations after us will look at our old 2023 yearbooks, remember our work, breathe our air and, perhaps, know to keep that same legacy alive. One can dream.

CJ Haddad – staff development & recruitment director

I, a brand-new news assignments editor in the fall of 2022 and still quite new to STU 421, bring a betta fish and a tank into the office to boost morale. The masthead gathers around the little thing, collectively naming it “Cheetah Chi-Chi Trojan.” The production shifts move on for the rest of the week with the fish watching over us working; Jenna and Christina — the other news editors at the time — and I write the records of how early we leave each day (“10:38 p.m. on a Tuesday? I’m impressed!”), lament about school and store Splenda packets and snack bags in the desk drawers. Kacie, the editor-in-chief at the time, talks to me about the nostalgia she feels that she’s hired me for the job that used to be hers the year prior. She feels old now, she tells me.

Months later, our old assistant editors now sit at the news desk as editors, and our editor-in-chief Sage is waterboarding a rubber chicken in the empty fish tank. At this point, we’ve gone through two bettas (Chi-Chi and a decoy that was purchased to evade my suspicions that the first one had died), a small catfish and a carnival goldfish, followed by a batch of plastic fish I deemed were the only ones we could keep alive. They all live in our hearts now, like the old newsroom will too. I see Jon, the news assignments editor, finding stories for the week on his laptop, and Anjali, his co-editor, making a beautiful layout for tomorrow’s paper. I feel old now, and I’m not even a junior yet. Morale, since Chi-Chi came around, has been boosted — these people, and this paper, feel like a family and a home. No matter what room we’re in.

Anjali Patel – news editor 

I walked into the newsroom with high hopes and a tinge of worry at the start of this semester. Upon learning I was going to be a news editor, I was added to a Slack channel with the other two news editors. I had seen them in meetings before, but that was the extent of it. And now I was going to spend half my waking hours working with these strangers. Fun, right?

Well, fun would be an understatement. After surviving the torturous initial awkwardness, Bianca and Jon — my co-editors — quickly became some of my favorite people on this campus. We spent countless hours and late nights together in the news corner of STU 421, editing stories on the shaky table, going back and forth about layout ideas on the computer, and looking out the window in front of us to admire downtown Los Angeles. Even with the chaotic mess of newspapers and miscellaneous papers slewed everywhere, that corner never failed to engulf me in solace and friendship.

Now, during our last week, I watch Bianca, Jon and all my other friends in the newsroom. I watch as we laugh over silly videos, eat the same chips and salsa we always do or even just work in silence, and I can’t help but wonder how many editors before me also found their friends in the very same newsroom. The once intimidating room has now become a second home and the once strangers have now become best friends. Although our friendship now surpasses that shaky table and those four walls, that corner of STU 421 will forever be the home of my fondest Daily Trojan memories. 

Au Chung – digital managing editor

As I sit here in the empty newsroom, writing this letter at 1 a.m., I can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over me. This room has been my home for the past few semesters, and it’s hard to believe that we’re now moving to a different location. When I first started working here as a mere podcaster, I would’ve never been able to imagine that I’d be part of the Daily Trojan family. I had just started school a semester late, and was still trying to find my place. 

This was the place where I found my voice in writing. I remember the countless late nights spent in this very room, working on stories I’d eventually get sued for. It was through the encouragement of fellow Daily Trojan staffers that I began to take risks and push boundaries with my reporting. 

The camaraderie among my colleagues is something that I will always cherish. I can only hope the next chapter of the Daily Trojan will be more fearless, impactful and diverse than ever.

We may be moving to a new location, but the memories and lessons learned in this newsroom will stay with me forever.

Helen Nguyen – opinion editor

Hidden away in the corner on the fourth floor of the Student Union Building lies a run-down old room that is stained with memories of the past. However, with the vibrant group of students hustling and bustling in there constantly, you don’t notice the holes in the ceiling until you sink into the red couch against the wall. 

As I approach the final opportunity of coming into the current Daily Trojan newsroom, I drown in all the memories made there. The tragic and sudden deaths of our beloved fishies, a yoga ball that somehow found its way off the balcony, attempts to play hits from the early 2000s on every computer at the same time, spilled marinara sauce, magic tricks, dance-offs and those nerve-racking moments when writers don’t respond to you. All these moments bound to the confines of the room flood my mind as I say goodbye.

However, as the gentle illumination of the fairy lights fades out and the melange of decorations is taken down, I know that the memories made and the people I’ve come to know are what will stay with me. I leave with melancholy as I think about how the next generation of editors and staffers won’t experience production in room 421 — a place where I spent most of my days in. But, it may be for the best, as closing this door opens another — one with new walls to paint memories on. So, to everyone who joins the Daily Trojan next semester, know that this blank canvas is yours to start, and what happens in this new room will be carried on to those after you. Just don’t forget there was a room before yours where decades of memories and work were created. It’s right around the corner — a place that was once home to brilliant writers, chaotic production nights and people that you won’t find anywhere else. Hopefully, the new newsroom will shine just as bright on the dark nights of production, and will be a place you can find comfort in. 

Jenna Peterson – managing editor, Fall 2023 editor-in-chief

My first day in the newsroom wasn’t especially noteworthy. It was my first shift as an assistant news editor, and I walked into the space with no idea of what to expect. One of the sports editors at the time had brought in pastries and immediately offered me one, making me feel welcome from the start — even if my shy demeanor didn’t show it. I nibbled on pakhlava while I finally felt what it was like to be in a college newsroom, independent of any Gilmore Girls-related notions I already held.

I watched the managing team do page reads on the newsroom’s couches, asking each other if certain words constitute a bad break or what they thought of a certain page design choice. I subconsciously took notes as I wrote photo captions and began to understand how much thought and passion go into every decision at the Daily Trojan. 

I’ve since seen the newsroom through many of its iterations: at nearly all hours of the day, from fluorescent to fairy lights, from blank walls to ones that are now donned with our favorite front pages. Marks on whiteboards that have been there so long they’ll never be erased — mementos of the brilliant minds that have helped shape this publication over the years. 

The newsroom has conversely seen me grow — from a timid assistant editor who felt her job was merely to observe, to a news editor who started to grasp that she has the strength to lead, to a managing editor who’s about to be editor-in-chief. 

It’s seen me experience nearly every emotion. The newsroom walls have seen me panic when I’ve thought I couldn’t do this job for a second longer, but they’ve also seen me realize I never want to do anything else. 

I hope that not long from now, future staff will have these same feelings about the new space. That they’ll fill new whiteboards with amusingly late early records and inside jokes. That it will be a space they’ll never want to leave, and that they’ll never have to until they graduate. 

If being a student journalist has taught me anything, it’s that you can never predict what tomorrow will look like. In an instant, a day can go from uneventful to all-consuming, draining but invigorating. I never would’ve guessed during that first assistant editor shift that I would eventually be tasked with leading the Daily Trojan into a new space — a new era. But, whether or not we feel ready or eager to move, it’s the reality, and I know that we’ll take all of the lessons and memories we’ve collected throughout our time in STU421 and channel them into something just as remarkable.