Lucas Gebhart
Editor-in-Chief
It was a pure consequence of fate that I ended up in this position, and it is with a heavy heart that I write this final goodbye.
In high school, I was nothing special. I was a middle-of-the-road student with a learning disability which gave birth to a secret and hidden drive I bore towards schoolwork. My grades didn’t show it, but I worked my ass off, not because I wanted to, but because I had to.
I tried my best to fly under the radar, but dyslexia, low standardized test scores and a student who struggled to figure out the English language made that an almost impossible task. I had multiple teachers tell me, some as early as middle school, that I wasn’t “college material.”
I wasn’t supposed to go to college, let alone be the editor of its newspaper.
I wasn’t even supposed to go to ISU.
I had signed up for housing at the University of South Dakota and made the last-minute switch after they refused to accept some transfer credits I somehow built up in high school thanks to private tutoring, a huge reason why I’m graduating a semester early.
But nevertheless, I arrived at ISU as an 18-year old kid with a Justin Bieber haircut who regularly wore basketball shorts and an oversized logoed t-shirt.
Then, I had my first encounter with fate, one that completely changed the course of my entire life.
I was sitting in Turner Hall’s room 427 with my new roommate. It was the first Friday the two of us had free together and we decided on a whim to go to play Bingo in the PSUB. That is where I met Sven. We instantly hit it off, as we both shared a common interest in sports. He then offered me something I simply could not refuse. He wanted me to be his broadcast partner for high school football games. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to be a real-life sports broadcaster, something I had simulated for years in my parent’s living room. I called my parents that night to tell them the good news.
A few months later, he asked if I wanted to join The Bengal as a sports writer. When he graduated in December, only a few months later, I became the sports editor and took over as the lead play-by-play broadcaster.
This had to be a dream, I thought. I was getting paid to write and talk about sports.
That’s when everything took off. I spent the next two years as The Bengal’s sports editor and I began to own the section. I turned my personal Twitter into a professional one and began attending and writing recaps on ISU games. I was delusional and had no idea what I was doing, but in a way, I didn’t care. I had a press pass and people were retweeting my stuff.
I took the hard work that having a learning disability taught me, combined it with the pride I held in my work and found ways to get better—something I still do to this day. Before I knew it, the Coeur d’Alene Press, Post Register, Argus Observer, Idaho State Journal and Spokesman Review had all asked me to do some sort of freelance work for them. All of a sudden, I held an impressive resume.
Then, The Bengal had a change in leadership, and I was asked to run the whole show. At the time, The Bengal was a black-and-white, understaffed, underequipped publication that was filled with typos and misuses of AP style. Again, I took on a daunting challenge that 18-year-old me never would have dreamed of, and just as I did with the sports section, I began to own the publication.
By the end of my time, The Bengal turned into a publication with five new Macs, a full-color printed edition and a staff that tripled in size.
Without really knowing how, I got this paper, and myself, into a position where my detail-oriented and overly-picky self, who is oftentimes way too hard on himself, can look back and be proud.
I’m proud to be a Bengal, proud of the paper and proud to be a part of the CMP Department. I’m proud because I never thought I would ever be in this position, and I have a laundry list of people to thank who helped me get to this point.
I want to thank my parents, who never gave up on me and continued to believe in me, even when I gave up on myself. I want to thank all of the boys (you know who you are) for providing an unforgettable college experience. I want to thank Zac, who was the first professor at ISU who critiqued my writing and is one who continues to find ways where I can get better. I want to thank Jerry, the newspaper’s advisor, for helping me become a better editor and supervisor to an outstanding staff of students who make the paper what it is. And finally, I want to thank you, the reader. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life.
