My name is Chuck Tobin, a former reporter for the Whitehorse Star. Of course I am sorry to see the Star close down. I spent most of my adult life reporting for the newspaper – 38 years.

Having been retired for the last eight months, I still know everybody. I rest assured they’ll have no problem finding work if they choose – they are a bunch of talented people, with a good sense of humour and fun to work with.

I didn’t start out pursuing a career in journalism. I wanted to be a forest ranger, just like the Forest Rangers from the CBC television show from the 1960s. I went to forestry college for two years at Sault College but with so many grads coming out of the four forestry programs in Ontario, full-time work was almost non-existent.

One winter, I ended up working a season on the oil rigs in Alberta, where I was first introduced to the possibility of journalism as a career. I was reading a magazine article about work on the rigs, and thought to myself I could write that. A year or two later, I was enrolled in the journalism course at Canadore College in North Bay, Ont.

I did my six-week placement at the end of the two years at a small mom-and-pop weekly newspaper outside of Sioux Lookout in northwestern Ont. where I had fought fires for a few seasons.

Frank, his wife and their son Mike ran the Northwest Explorer out of their home and had the weekly newspaper printed in Kenora. Frank was a seasoned journalist with years of experience at the Winnipeg Free Press. It was Frank who told me: “Stay away from the 12 cylinder words.” And I tried to. It wasn’t hard. I didn’t know many to begin with.

I had applied to the Yukon News to serve my apprenticeship. Then editor Pat Living told me she liked my application but didn’t want to see me come all the way to the Yukon for just six weeks. I was still working part time fo the Northwest Explorer and fighting fires in July 1983 when I got the call at the Sioux fire centre from Pat offering me a full-time job.

After a 68-hour trip on a Greyhound Bus, I arrived in Whitehorse and spent the first week or so at the old Fort Yukon on Second Avenue.

I worked for two years and a bit at the News and was offered a job at the Star by paper’s production manager, Linda Burns.

I liked my job at the News but a friend suggested the Star would be an interesting switch.

I started working here on July 15, 1985 as the sports reporter/editor. A year later, I switched to the news department.

One of my first assignments was covering the falcon smuggling trial of seven people accused of smuggling falcons out of the Yukon to the Middle East.

The accused included the former owners of the Yukon Game Farm. Following six weeks of evidence, all seven were acquitted after the testimony of the two key witnesses for the Crown prosecution was sliced and diced by Whitehorse’s top defence lawyer’s at the time.

The memories are too many – many still too raw to think about or recount.

There are many, many – and many, many – memories of success, of accomplishment, of outright joy and happiness.

I was around in 1983 when an agreement-in-principle, meant to guide First Nation land claim negotiations, was rejected. Ten years later, I was on the front lawn of the former Yukon Indian Centre on Nisutlin Drive to witness the emotional signing of the Umbrella Final Agreement and the first four First Nation Final Agreements. That was a joyful moment. Inspirational.

I was on First Avenue in 1984 when Sonny Lindner became the first champion of the Yukon Quest sled dog race. I was in city council chambers when they changed the name of First Avenue to Front Street.

I have watched many premiers walk into their campaign headquarters on a successful election night. I have watched many mayors walk into city council chambers on election night to congratulate their challengers on a race well run.

How many people do you know who have climbed into an abandoned grizzly bear cave in the St. Elias Mountains? They’re roomy. Here’s a tidbit. If I’m remembering it correctly, grizzly bears do not reuse their caves from year to year, for fear it has lost structural integrity over the spring and summer months, and is at risk of caving in.

I’ve watched a wildlife technician shoot a dart at a running wolf from a helicopter in mid-air, and then retrieve the alpha male for a trip to Haines Junction where it underwent a vasectomy before being returned the next day to the point of capture.

I once interviewed a woman about her escape from East Germany while the Berlin Wall was still up.

The Star has provided me with a unique opportunity to watch Whitehorse and the territory grow and evolve.

To all the people who may have felt slighted by my work, it was not intentional.

I must thank all the people who guided me and helped me understand what I was reporting on.

Thank you to the Star for the career. Thank you to all the staff I’ve worked with, and laughed with.

Couldn’t have asked for better!

By CHUCK TOBIN