Neal Ronald, 38, was stopped for a moving violation near West Ina Road and North Shannon Road at approximately 1:45 a.m. on May 16, said Deputy Dawn Barkman in a news release Tuesday.

George M. Smith edits a story for the Wheaton Daily Journal sometime in the late 1940s.

The Internet killed the newspaper.

No, it’s the economy, stupid.

Or overleveraged publishing chains. Left-wing columnists. Whatever the cause, change is in the air of the publishing world, but it’s blowing faster than ever.

From the cover of Time magazine to a slew of bloggers, the changes sweeping the news business are an untiring meme lately.

Newspapers big and small are stopping their presses, not to replate with the latest breaking scandal, but to lay off their staffs, shutter the doors, retire the nameplates.

It may be news, but it’s not new. My family has been involved, off and on, in the newspaper game for more than a century. Each generation saw shifts in society and advances in technology challenge their publishing acumen.

My great-grandfather got into journalism in 1900. George M. Smith began writing for the Naperville (Ill.) Clarion fresh out of high school. After attending Wheaton College, just outside of Chicago, where his father taught, he worked his way through a succession of reporting jobs.

In 1913, he purchased the Du Page County Tribune, a weekly in Wheaton, setting himself up as editor and publisher.

Printing a newspaper in those days was a labor-intensive operation. Every line of type was set by hand, using individual die-cast metal letters, thousands per page.

Hot lead and Linotypes

In 1915, the Tribune purchased a new typecasting machine – a Linotype. Headlines still had to be made up by hand, but the body text of stories was cast in lines – slugs – by molding hot lead. Linotypes were complex mechanical contraptions, prone to breakdown, with 90-character keyboards.

The paper was successful under George’s leadership. To speed production, he invested in another. In 1933, in the midst of the Depression, it became a daily, and the nameplate was changed to the Wheaton Daily Journal. A subscription to the solidly Republican paper ran 5 cents per week.

My grandfather, Robert Smith, followed in his dad’s footsteps, writing a column for the Journal, and studying journalism at South Dakota State College – where he met my grandmother Eileen.

She’d been active in her high school newspaper, which was a full page in the local Milbank (S.D.) Herald Advance, printed every week. She studied printing and journalism at South Dakota State before graduating in 1938.

“There were not that many women in printing – really just a few of us in the whole field of journalism.

“At the college, we set some type by hand, but mainly with the Linotype. Working the hell box (where miscast slugs and wrongly-set type were discarded, to be sorted out later) wasn’t much fun. We had to go through and pull out all the letters and put them back.

“Everything was done by hand. The letterpress was hand-fed, which was a lot of work.

“Bob was very good at setting type. I suppose it came easy to me. I’ve been able to do a lot of computer work – at the museum and such – because of it, using a different keyboard than a typewriter.”

They both put themselves through college working for the college press – writing, proofreading, making up pages.

World War II came soon after my grandparents graduated, interrupting Bob’s endeavors in journalism with a stint in the South Pacific for him and California for Eileen. Two boys also arrived, my uncle Joel and my dad, Steve.

After the war, the Wheaton Daily Journal responded to its growing market.

“Everybody brought two papers – the Chicago paper (Tribune) and the Journal. People were working in Chicago, taking the train in.”

Many commuters began to identify more as Chicagoans than as members of their formerly sleepy suburbs. The ubiquity of radio and growing television market – pioneered in the ’30s by The Chicago Daily News – challenged the small suburban publishers.

George Smith died in February 1949, having spent his life putting ink on paper, telling stories.

My grandfather and his two brothers stepped in to run the family business. Bob took over as editor, the others managing the business side.

Hand-set to high-tech

While the presses weren’t hand-fed anymore, pages were still cast in hot metal. Steve Smith – my dad – recalls the press room as a noisy, messy place.

“My father used to come home with burns” from working on the Linotype, he recalls. “You talk about a complicated machine. And that was a tough bunch of guys. He had a crown on one tooth from getting hit with a wrench by a pressman.”

The changing business and inevitable conflicts among the brothers led to a sale of the Journal in 1953.

Bob went into teaching, first for a local high school, eventually becoming a journalism professor at the University of Wisconsin, Eau Claire. Before he died in 1975, he was working to move the college’s program to a new computerized system.

From hand-set to high-tech, in a lifetime.

My dad went to college to study printing just as technology was shifting.

In the late ’60s, newspapers were moving to more-efficient platemaking processes and high-capacity web presses.

Colleges were still teaching outdated photoengraving techniques, even as the new technology penetrated the business. A career based on a fading process didn’t seem too viable.

Besides, the art department held more attraction. It didn’t take long for my dad to drop his journalism and printing courses.

My journey through journalism began in high school, where I learned how to type, badly, and paste up a news page by hand, using hot wax and type output from a primitive computer system at the local Prescott Courier.

After some schooling at the University of Arizona, I wrote and edited copy for a string of Tucson alternative papers whose names are mostly lost to history.

I served a stint as editor and publisher of ¿K? Magazine, an arts and culture monthly, in the mid-1990s. Despite the streamlining of the desktop publishing revolution, print publishing remained an expensive proposition.

Learning the code

In the late’ 90s, I moved into Web design, learning an alphabet soup of languages: html, xml, js, css and more.

A few years ago, the Citizen was kind enough to take me on, and eventually let me manage the Web site.

In the short time I’ve been here, the technology we use has dramatically shifted. From basic html pages to rich applications that feature video and databases, the addition of reader comments and forums, the focus of the Citizen online has changed along with the culture of the Internet.

But the impressive values of the Citizen staff have remained: accuracy, fairness, truth.

This may well be the last piece I write for a daily newspaper. It leaves me with a bit of an empty feeling, sitting at my desk, preparing for the Citizen’s last edition, knowing that my family’s history with the printing press has stopped rolling.

The family paper, having changed hands several times through the years, continues as the Wheaton Sun – a suburban weekly that’s part of the Sun-Times group.

Yes, they’ve got a Web page.

And like many newspaper chains, the Sun-Times recently filed for bankruptcy.

I hope to carry on my ancestors’ legacy of reporting. Given the trend, that will have to be in some online-only capacity. I’ll miss the smell of fresh ink, but I enjoy the 24/7 challenge of keeping the news fresh.

No matter if it’s delivered by a paperboy on a bike, or via the never-ending stream of the Internet, it’s all about telling stories.

———

Ink in the blood

Many Citizen staffers have families with long histories in the newspaper business.

Alan Fischer’s father, George Fischer, was in the newspaper industry his entire life. He started as a carrier for the Grand Forks (N.D.) Herald as a youth, and held a number of jobs there before becoming a pressman. He brought his skills here, working as a pressman for Tucson Newspapers from 1965 until his retirement in the late 1980s.

B. Poole’s mom, Norma Poole, and sister, Cathy Rowe, were typesetters for newspapers in Illinois during the ’60s and ’70s.

PK Weis’ grandfather PK Weis Sr. was a reporter for the Moberly (Mo.) Monitor in the early 1900s. Senior began his career as a printer’s devil when he was a young boy.

Polly Higgins’ grandfather Rathbun R. Higgins wrote a column called “The Stamp Man” for the Chicago Heights Star from 1948 to 1960 and resurrected it for the Columbus (Ind.) Republic 1967-82.

Garry Duffy’s father, Joseph L. Duffy, was an assistant to Roy Howard, of Scripps-Howard newspapers, in the late ’40s and early ’50s.

Fernanda Echavarri’s great-grandfather Jesús María Benítez Martínez, was a columnist for the local daily in Querétaro, Mexico, from 1973 to 1997.

Randy Harris’ grandfather was circulation manager of the Danville (IL) Press-Democrat from the age of 15. His mother was women’s editor for the Marion (IN) Chronicle-Tribune in the ’60s and ’70s.

Bruce Johnston descends from three generations of journalists on both sides of his family. Both of his great-grandfathers owned weekly newspapers in Canada; one of them brought the first Linotype into the country. The papers passed on through the next two generations in his family. One still publishes today, although no relatives still work for it.

Ray Suarez’s grandfather Edgar worked for TNI in the mailroom and advertising. Grandmother Beatriz was a switchboard operator, while Ray’s father, Stephen, worked in the composing room. Aunt Selina works in circulation for Gannett, while another aunt, Eloina, worked the switchboards. All told, Ray says that his family has put in 117 years working for TNI and the Citizen.

Stephen Colbert gestures toward U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, "Miss Pink Sweater Set."

Comedian Stephen Colbert’s campaign to have a new room of the international space station named after him took a political turn to the west this week.

Colbert went after Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, who is married to an astronaut – and knocked Tucson, too.

After calling Giffords “Miss Pink Sweater Set,” Colbert said she’ll have to be satisfied with representing half of Tucson – “not even the good half.”

“I’m kidding, there is no good half.”

The background:

Colbert beat out NASA’s four suggested options in its effort to have the public name the room, which Giffords pointed out will be for recycling urine.

Colbert urged viewers of his Comedy Central show, “The Colbert Report” to write in his name. And they complied, with 230,539 votes, clobbering Serenity, a NASA choice, by more than 40,000 votes.

NASA spokesman John Yembrick said NASA will give top vote-getters “the most consideration.”

———

Watch the video clip

See the clip of Stephen Colbert talking about Rep. Gabrielle Giffords.

Surveillance photo.

Tucson police are looking for a man who robbed a Bank of America branch Wednesday and fled on a bicycle, a police spokeswoman said.

Banks employees reported that a man entered the bank in the 4200 block of North Oracle Road and handed a teller a note demanding money while he displayed a hammer, Officer Linda Galindo said.

The suspect left the bank with an undisclosed amount of cash and fled on a bicycle, said Galindo.

The man is described as 5 feet 8 to 5 feet 10 inches tall, 170-190 pounds and 40-50 years old.

He was last seen wearing a black shirt with white lettering, blue jeans, a blue bandanna and a wig, said Galindo.

Robbery detectives ask that anyone with information call 911 or 88-CRIME.

Surveillance photo.

The perfect pour of Guinness takes time - 119.5 seconds, to be exact - but it's worth the wait.

Tweed jackets, drizzling rain, shamrocks, shillelaghs, leprechauns. Now is the time when thoughts turn to all things Irish.

That includes, of course, Guinness stout.

Whether you’re in Dublin or Tucson, if you want a great pint of stout, be prepared to wait. The “double pour” is a technique that produces a dark ruby (it’s not black, hold it up to the light) body and a thick, creamy white head on a glass of Guinness.

The company says a pour should take 119.5 seconds. Try that with a typical American megabrew! It would probably go flat before you finished.

Legend holds that Irish beer is served warm, but they seem to have discovered refrigeration on the Emerald Isle, as the company recommends its stout be served at 43 degrees. That’s a bit warmer than you might want your Budweiser, but room temperature it’s not.

The temperature and pour bring out the flavor – a weighty mouth-feel and creamy foam accentuate the bite of roasted barley and smoothness of the traditional recipe.

Dublin’s St. James’s Gate neighborhood, wherein lies the Guinness brewery, is suffused with the aroma of hundreds of years of roasting barley malt. You can’t find that in Tucson, but where can a punter purchase a perfect pint on St. Patrick’s Day?

Great pints can be found around Tucson, but beware a bad one.

A clean, dry glass is essential because, unlike most beers, stout doesn’t contain many hops. Without that bitter herb, the unfortunate flavor of bar cleanser and bleach can utterly ruin a glass. Traces that would go unnoticed in a fresh Sam Adams or Flat Tire can lead to bitter disappointment in a pint of stout.

Old Pueblo publicans who provide a proper pour include Plush, 340 E. Sixth St., and The Shanty, 401 E. Ninth St.

Plush’s Kini Wade takes his time, and serves up a pint that’s brimming with thick foam that lasts until the pint’s gone.

The barkeeps at The Shanty not only know how to pour a pint, they’ll serve up a delicious small glass with a nip of whiskey.

The Auld Dubliner, 800 E. University Blvd., brims with knickknacks and signage imported from the auld country. It offers a menu of Irish fare, including shepherd’s pie and corned beef and cabbage, but sometimes falls short on its pints.

It’s a busy college bar and getting a pint that features a whiff of bleach is a too-common occurrence. To its credit, the staff’s always been happy to pour again, and there’s plenty of Harp lager and Irish whiskey if you’re not in the mood for a heavy stout.

The Tap Room at Hotel Congress, 311 E. Congress St., is a great spot to sip a pint. Feed a couple of quarters into the best jukebox in town and enjoy.

Irish Pub, 9155 E. Tanque Verde Road, doesn’t much live up to its name. It serves Guinness, along with quesadillas and buffalo wings, but putting such items as the Paddy Melt and Tipperary Tuna on the menu don’t go far in reproducing a true Celtic atmosphere.

Got a favorite spot to quaff the black stuff? Who pours the best? Let us know in our online comments.

March 2008: Bartender Jonas Black works on pouring a perfect pint at The Auld Dubliner.

The thunderstorm warning, lasting until 3:30 p.m., included southeastern Pinal County. It was issued after Doppler radar indicated a severe thunderstorm moving southwest in the Oracle area.

The flash flood warning, in effect until 5:15 p.m., also covers southeastern Pinal County.

The weather service warns of damaging winds, destructive hail and lightning. Flooding from heavy rain and excessive runoff is predicted.

For a comprehensive look at Tucson-area weather, go to our online forecast.

Read more about Southern Arizona’s monsoon.

The war in Iraq is now one of the nation’s longest conflicts. As far as affecting our day-to-day lives, it may well be one of our most invisible.

For those who don’t have a loved one serving in Iraq or Afghanistan, it’s easy to go through a day without giving a thought to the dangers of combat.

The war is the subject of incessant political debate.

But what the soldiers and sailors endure isn’t brought up much by those pro or con.

Even in the newsroom, as we’re inundated with headlines about car bombs and IEDs, our troops are barely seen in photos that flash by quickly on a computer screen.

When word of a Tucson soldier’s death in combat comes in, our reporters and editors have a sadly too-practiced drill: use Google and public records to search for more information. Try to contact the grieving family. Comb our archives for stories and photos about the deceased.

We jump into action, finding facts, trying to tell a soldier’s story.

There isn’t much time for reflection. Thinking too much can cloud the mind, and making errors when reporting on a fallen soldier is something we just can’t do.

Early Friday, we were informed that Chief Warrant Officer Robert C. Hammett was killed in Baghdad June 24.

Department of Defense press releases are as terse and short as you could imagine. Not much beyond name, rank, unit and a date that shouldn’t be.

As I write, we’re still reporting on Hammett. Some events are exciting to report. Some are challenging. Some can become painful.

The Citizen’s list of troops with southern Arizona ties killed in Iraq and Afghanistan now stands at 36.

We’ve reported on these men and women, their Tucson ties, their families, their accomplishments. We’ve done our best to honor their memories.

But there are some stories we wish we didn’t have to tell. I’d rather CWO Hammett were safe at home with his family.

Tucson soldier killed in Iraq

Watching the skies

Just a couple of days after the traditional Dia de San Juan onset of the monsoon, and not too long after the new, official start June 15, rain finally burst from the afternoon clouds.

Gawkers across Tucson turned their faces skyward to catch a few raindrops on their brows, or less poetically, ran across parking lots to roll up their car windows, getting drenched.

Downtown underpasses filled with runoff, and the usual caravan of fools tried to navigate the intersection of roadways and running washes.

It doesn’t matter how high-tech your navigation system is if you’re being swept along by the current.

It’s not called the “stupid motorist law” for nothing.

Fiesta on Tuesday to celebrate monsoon

Monsoon cuts power to 400, swamps streets

“This one goes to eleven”

Former Wildcat basketball guard Jerryd Bayless was drafted by the Indiana Pacers, who agreed to trade him to Portland Trailblazers almost immediately, even as he was still wearing a Pacers hat.

Bayless didn’t seem all that happy to fall out of the top 10. I’d be happy if I could ever sink a free throw.

Bayless: I’ll show NBA

Not justified by faith alone

Another eternal verity of summer: the Chicago Cubs are setting their loyal fans up for another disappointment.

They lead their division and have the best winning percentage in all of baseball. The denizens of the Cubby Bear bar are whispering about completing a certain special trip for the first time since 1908.

To avoid any sort of jinx, I’m not allowing myself to watch an entire game. An inning here or there, OK. But who wants to purposefully, willfully even, set themselves up for disappointment?

Oh ye of little faith, you say? We’ll see how it works out. I’ll keep half an eye on the TV this weekend.

A tale of one city: Cubs, Sox on top

MLB roundup: Cubs club White Sox, win 14th straight at home

7 words you shouldn’t say

Comic genius George Carlin dead at 71.

The man who demonstrated that profanity needn’t be vulgar, that cursing needn’t be coarse, died Sunday night.

Carlin held a mirror up to a culture obsessed with the lewd and scurrilous, asking if we liked what we saw.

His classic riff about the seven words you can’t say on television can still draw a laugh, not for the shock value of the rhythmic incantation of “obscenities” (HBO’s seen to that), but for the absolute glee with which Carlin pointed out our hypocrisies.

In elevating swearing beyond an art form to a near-religious ceremony, Carlin had the ability to shake his audiences out of their daily rituals, if only for a moment.

Better to be shaken by a laugh than a tear.

Carlin mourned as counterculture hero

Higgins: Carlin’s passing leaves us with . . . Ferrell?

Former Attorney General John Ashcroft.

Fittingly enough for an election year, themes of flag and country threaded the news the past week.

Right and wrong, God and patriotism: grand subjects all.

If only we measured up.

There goes the neighborhood
Millions of Iraqis and Afghans have been displaced by the wars in their homelands. Bombed out of their homes, forced from their violence-wracked neighborhoods, many live in refugee camps. Many want to return to rebuild their lives. Many want to come to America.

Entrance quotas limit the number of refugees allowed into the U.S. to a few thousand each year.

A Saturday story introduced Tucsonans to a few of their new neighbors, a lucky 40 of the tens of thousands who wish to resettle in America.

They suffer from the trauma of leaving their homes, bear the scars of torture and the memories of kidnapping, and struggle with a new society.

Many of the Citizen’s online commenters don’t seem to be in an Emma Lazarus sort of mood. If it were up to them, the “Mother of Exiles” would no longer be our guide. “Send them to Mexico, instead” was a popular sentiment.

Refugees: They’re coming to America

Freiheit und Gerechtigkeit
“Freedom and Justice:” Our schools suffered from more distraction this week as a silly contretemps erupted over a Gale Elementary School teacher leading her class in the Pledge of Allegiance.