the other press Op-Ed fipril 9, 2003 hg, and backstabbing greatly intensified. grand total of 68 nasty emails were sent the OP private mailing list over the burse of three weeks. (Yes, I have them 1. No, you can't see them—old wounds ould remain closed.) I finally thought that the end had bme—there were informal discussions bout starting up a new paper. An inter- sting idea until you realize that it was to e formed from the dead carcass of the DP, a 25-year-old organization eviscerated ly petty issues. Thankfully, that never happened. The aper lived to see another day. But the war lad taken casualties—both the Editor-in- hief and the Production Supervisor quit, d the aftermath of the war would haunt Eaewe Haine siney: FETS “iepaes scion 8 ra! SLT Ut Rw ee Paaint ae a ee sey fang Meter Bar ii thy um es a= ee» main, asi | ec Wal he SMI hh ak es pa hang Oe em cen a mo page est i ln ei a He s for another year. he Silver Age his heading has a double meaning. First all, 2001 was the 25th anniversary of e paper. Considering the absolute bol- bcks of the previous year, it was amazing e made it that far. It was more amazing at the original OPer, Terry Glavin, rote something thanking us for keeping e hope alive. Other OP alumni joined h, citing their memories and their amaze- hent that the paper hadn't gone belly up. The second meaning of “the silver age” Pfers to the editor at the time, David Hamilton. An older gentleman (rumours ere that he was 57, a rumour that he ever really denied), he had a way of tak- hg charge and getting things done, help- hg to correct the uncertainty we were eling at the time. The paper also started to go the way of e real world. Originally, the paper was e model of socialism—everyone con- ibuted to the big pot, and somehow ded up with the stew of the Other Press. tow, we were following a recipe. It was hore efficient, more fragile—the paper ffered when someone didn’t come rough, but when everyone did come er press | Oeentler ot, 281 http://otherpress.douglas.be.ca through, we were done in half the time. The OP also had residual skirmishes from the aforementioned war—the new production supervisor was an ex-pat from the new school, while the new art director was a grizzled old solider from the old school. Thus, every production night had its stresses that had absolutely nothing to do with the making of the paper itself. With me being the third person at pro- duction, it was like standing in between two pit bulls—not a good idea, to say the least. Despite the stresses, the paper flour- ished. It received praise from the senior administration of Douglas College—not so much praise from the students, who thought it looked a little too much like the Globe and Mail. Still, no one could fault us for looking unprofessional. The Plan With the paper finally achieving a decent level of professionalism, it was time to actually let Douglas College know that the OP wasn’t a bunch of freaks putting out a paper that no one read. With this goal in mind, we put in motion the Ultimate Public Relations Plan™., Take, for example, the sumo ring during the first week of class. The sumo ring was my brainchild; you can thank (or blame) me for that idea. I think I can safely say that we stole most of the attention on the concourse for that week. Nothing says publicity like two hot students grunting, sweating, and pushing right in the middle of an open area. While the sumo slam-dance was going on, other OPers were executing the sec- ond part of the Ultimate Public Relations Plan™, namely swag slinging. What stu- dent could refuse free stuff? We were handing out movie passes, pens, shirts, and buttons. Granted, everything we handed out was covered by the OP logo, but then again, free is free. Part three of the Plan™ was radically changing the layout of the paper. We decided to go for a paper that visually attacked you, a la the Georgia Straight. Each issue this year was a graphic cover, thus ideally drawing you into reading the paper. (Admit it. It worked for some of you, at least.) Part four of the Plan™ saw the launch of our hip line of toques and hemp Tees. And, last but not least, part five was the pub night in tandem with the DSU. I will speak somewhat briefly about the pub night. This’ pub night invoked Murphy's Law at least a dozen times. It was originally supposed to happen in the fall, but a combination of circumstances and poor decisions kept pushing the date back. At one point, the pub night was on the verge of being canceled. We eventually worked out a day for the pub night. As usual, the problems didn’t stop there. Logistics were — as they usual- ly are — the bane of organization. There was a bit of a debacle over deciding what the night's entertainment was to be - both within the OP collective and with the DSU. There was a big adventure obtain- ing the sound equipment — let’s just say that I wouldn't make a good truck driver. And finally, there was the small matter of food. Does anyone remember just how big the OP cake was? If not, there’s a handy dandy picture of it on this page. Of course, as I was the office manager (other- wise known as the OP gofer), it fell to me to pick up the cake, as well as the pretzels and the chips. Not too bad a job, but you probably don't have stubby arms like me. Still, in the end, it seemed to have paid off. The night was memorable, and defi- nitely increased our exposure. The Drycleaners were pretty good — the right type of band for the right crowd. The Polys, on the other hand, were a band that belonged in a much more formal venue. The biggest surprise turned out to be the DJ. We were warned that the DJ would 4 eens ‘ump probably be a waste of time, and that no one would dance. Instead, the DSU became the Barfly Jr. after 11pm. As usual, we were giving away stuff. A Pancakes for the people Sroken The DSU dishes it up Canucks suffer ‘ hosses 7a”, Po2i i, Bad example | : a lot of stuff. We gave away books, clothes, pens, accessories, and even earrings. Everyone had fun giving and receiving the swag. To the girl who tripped and passed out on stage while trying to get free stuff from us, we salute you. Oh, by the way, the auction for me was null and void. Sorry, Pride collective. Beefs and bouquets It's time to bring this retrospective to a close. The ride’s been fun, really it has. For all those I worked with throughout the years, thanks for all the memories. From the late nights doing production even though we had class in 4 hours, to the near-death experiences with dump trucks and club riots, it’s been glorious. For all those who have recently joined the OP, cherish these times. If anything, youll never have quite the same experi- ences anywhere else. And finally, to all those who aren't involved, WHAT’S STOPPING YOU? Get down to room 1020 in New West and get ready to change the world. I’m out, folks. It is a far, far better job that I did, then I have ever done. It is a far, far better paper I leave, then I have ever known. m1 ©