Templar: Frequent 'Vent' callers added special touches

I haven't heard from her in a while, and I sure hope she's doing OK.

Scarp: 'Vent' has always been for its readers, not callers

Best Vents of 2008

"She" is one of regular callers to the Vent, someone among the 20 to 25 people who rang up (480) 898-6806 nearly every day to share their thoughts. I enjoy almost everything connected to the Vent, our daily column of anonymous rants, wise-cracks and occasional insights. But I've grown particularly attached to those venters who call in so frequently that I instantly recognize their voices. These are the people I will really miss when the Vent voice mail goes silent after Friday.

Most of the Vent regulars have been calling for years, and nearly all of them have their own tricks to get into print. Some comb through the Tribune each morning and fire off their best lines on the stories of the day. Some try to be outrageous in ways that tickle an editor's ear instead of turning us off. Others call numerous times in rapid succession trying to wear the editor down with funny impersonations and snarky observations.

"She" was different. When I first heard from her in February, she needed to vent about one specific issue - the baffling rules of the Social Security Administration. According to her various messages, she had lost her job several weeks earlier because of a recent disability. She was living frugally, but had no savings and really needed the federal government to approve her disability income.

At first, all she had to say was how angry she was that time kept passing with no check from Washington. Then, there was the rising note of panic in her voice as she struggled to find someone, anyone, who could help her keep her home until a little money came in. She sounded so desperate that I would have tried to do something myself if she had mentioned her name or some way to reach her.

But she respected the informal but dominant rule of the Vent, the caller is always unknown even when they reveal certain details of their lives.

There's the gentleman who moved to Gilbert from Michigan and still loves the sport teams of his home state, especially the Detroit Red Wings, over anything to be found in Arizona. There's the man in Apache Junction who must have spent his morning with the newspaper in one hand and his telephone in the other, speed dialing the Vent after every story that caught his eye.

And there's the lady who's convinced mainstream journalists are a bunch of liberal pansies, and repeatedly explained why. But she didn't say it quite that way. In fact, she speaks so properly and eloquently that she reminded me of my favorite grade school English teacher.

Naturally, many regular venters are retired seniors who still have a strong attachment to printed newspapers, and plenty of time to read and react with phone calls. This included one man from Chandler who loves puns and to play with words, often over-pronouncing syllables and spelling out words so we couldn't miss his point.

I know their every rumble, growl, pet phrase and bad Bob Dylan parody. But I wouldn't recognize any one of them by sight if they walked into my office, and that means I really don't know them at all.

There's no doubt regular Vent callers have taken up a sizeable percentage of the daily column, simply by the sheer volume of the material they have provided compared to their occasional competitors. But we did strive to limit the selection from regular callers (and email writers) to provide more room for fresh voices and the truly outraged.

That's why "she" appeared in the Vent only five or six times this year. Many more of her calls just tore at my heart and deserved attention from someone. Then she started calling in on other topics, local news bits and so forth. In one phone call, she admitted she had become a Tribune home subscriber and just had to speak up on what she was reading.

I was happy to print one of her vents when she was enormously grateful to a local church for granting her some emergency money in her darkest hour. And it was downright thrilling when she reported that her first disability check had finally arrived, and all of life now look a little brighter.

Maybe that was the turning point. Maybe she didn't need the Vent anymore. All I know is her phone calls gradually trailed off, and I can't remember the last time I heard from her.

The Vent will continue its prominent role on the opinion pages as the Tribune reinvents itself on Jan. 7 as four-days-a-week in print. But a smaller newsroom staff means we simply can't find the time anymore to sort through 150 to 250 phone calls a day and then transcribe the best ones. So contributors to the Vent will have to speak out by e-mail in the future.

Maybe I will hear from her again some day, if she can afford a computer.