Producing a community newspaper requires being part of the community – a lesson Jeremy Wade Shockley learned repeatedly during his 14 years at the Southern Ute Drum, the biweekly newspaper serving the Southern Ute Indian Tribe.
Shockley, who recently stepped away from his role as editor-in-chief after nine years in the role, said his time covering the Southern Ute Tribe gave him a deeper understanding of journalism, community and trust.
He said the work taught him that meaningful reporting cannot come from the outside looking in.
“You don’t drop in as an outsider, you know, and tell those stories,” he said. “You really got to be part of it, and I think that was a big tie and connection for me.”
For him, that long-term presence – showing up at cultural events, listening more than talking, and staying over many years – is the foundation of his years of work.
Much of that trust, he says, was built outside the newsroom in spaces like the Bear Dance and other cultural gatherings.
The Bear Dance, an annual spring ceremony that dates back centuries, became a formative experience for Shockley because he was invited to participate rather than remain on the sidelines.
“When you take part in these bear dances, you see all these familiar faces and friends and people that you might be working with on stories,” he said. “But when you get there, it’s all about the bear dance.”
Shockley said the experience became one of the most meaningful parts of his life.
“It’s become such an important part of my life in a way that I never would have expected, and so even though I’ve left my job, I’ll still be part of the bear dance,” he said. “That part’s not going to go away. As a non-Ute, I find it really powerful to be included.”
Many of the stories and cultural moments Shockley covered have stayed with him over the years.
One story he said he will always remember involved a centuries-old cottonwood tree that served as a meeting place for generations of Southern Ute tribal leaders.
Several years ago, the city of Delta, where the tree stood, decided it needed to be removed. Tribal members gathered to be with the cottonwood during its final moments.
“That was a really significant thing to be witness to, both as a writer and a photographer, to be there and listen to those words,” Shockley said. “That was very powerful, and even though it was six or seven years ago, I think about it all the time.”
Those experiences shaped how he thinks about journalism in tribal communities. In those spaces, trust is something journalists earn and then work constantly to maintain, he said.
It can include revisiting editorial decisions, examining how stories are framed and ensuring he approaches his work “with as much authenticity” as possible – both to his subjects and himself.
Trust and authenticity are inseparable, he said. If a journalist breaks trust in order to meet a deadline or chases a story in a way that feels inauthentic, he believes that damage is hard to undo, especially in a small community.
“You earn trust, but you have to keep trust,” he said.
Sometimes, Shockley said, that means choosing not to publish a detail, not to push a source, or to walk away from an angle that would make for a splashy read but harm relationships.
“‘It always comes out better to say, ‘No, I’ve got to take the higher road on this one if I can,’” he said. “I know it’s tough, and I know journalism gets tough that way.”
That sense of responsibility extends to how he thinks about the Drum’s function in a community where tradition is fundamentally oral. Many elders’ stories begin as spoken narratives shared in living rooms or community halls, and only afterward become print, he said.
“The tradition is an oral tradition that gets passed on. I think the newspaper is a part of that,” he said. “If an elder can tell their story and we can represent that story in the paper, that’s sort of a megaphone to amplify that story.”
That amplification only works, he said, if the original storytellers feel their words were carried faithfully and respectfully into print.
Shockley said he is especially proud of the work he and his staff did to organize and expand access to the tribe’s underused 50-year archive, turning it into a resource that reflects “a huge part of who we are.”
He’s especially proud that those archives fed major outside projects, like History Colorado’s “Written on the Land” exhibit, where he says more than half the visuals came from the Drum.
But Shockley is ready to step out from behind the desk and spend more time in the field.
“As time went on and our team got bigger, I was doing less of the journalism, and I’m really passionate about being the one out there telling the stories, especially with a camera,” he said.
He plans to remain in the area and keep his ties to the tribe as he returns to freelance life and the pursuit of long‑form projects he’s been thinking about for years – especially on water and drought in the West.
“I’m trying to reconnect with younger Jeremy,” he said.
jbowman@durangoherald.com
