Journalist Lori Tobias arrived on the Oregon coast in 2000. After freelancing from Newport for several years, she signed on with the Oregonian as a stringer covering the coast from Florence to Astoria; later she would be hired as a staff writer responsible for the entire coast—one person for more than three hundred miles. The job meant long hours, being called out for storms in the middle of the night in dangerous conditions, and driving hundreds of miles in a day if stories called for it.The Oregon coast is a rugged, beautiful place known for its dramatic landscapes and fierce storms. Separated from the state’s population centers by the Coast Range, it is a land of small towns reliant primarily on fishing and tourism. Many of the stories Tobias covered were car crashes, falls, drownings, capsizings. And those were just the accidents; Tobias covered plenty of violent crimes as well, such as the infamous Christian Longo murders of 2001.Tobias’s story is as much her own as it is the coast’s, and she takes the reader through familiar beats of life—learning to live on and cover the coast, regular trips back east as her parents age, the decline of journalism in the twenty-first century—and the unexpected, often unglamorous experiences of a working reporter, such as a bout of vertigo after rappelling from a helicopter. Storm Beat tells a compelling story of a land that many visit but few truly know.
Lori is a journalist of many years, author of the memoir Storm Beat - A Journalist Reports From The Oregon Coast, published in Sept. 2020 from Oregon State University, and the novel "Wander," winner of the Nancy Pearl Literary Award 2017. She lives on the Oregon Coast with her husband Chan and rescues Gus & Lily.
The Oregon Coast is a rugged, majestic and sometimes dangerous place. Millions of people flock to the 360-mile coastline each year in search of recreation and the cares of daily life. But for some who live, work, visit and play here, their stories can end in tragedy. It’s a ready-made formula to keep any journalist busy. Lori Tobias has covered the coastal storm beat for two decades, primarily for her state’s largest newspaper, The Oregonian. Her new memoir—also titled Storm Beat—takes the reader along for the ride up and down Highway 101, the meandering road that connects coastal towns. Tobias covered the stories of people who fell or were swept to their deaths, commercial and recreational fishing boat tragedies, murders, conflicts over development that pitted neighbor against neighbor. Storm Beat is also the tale of the wanderings of Tobias and her husband across the country, until they finally felt a powerful enough draw to a place to call it home. It’s also a chronicle of the decline of daily newspapers, as the once-mighty Paper of Record for Oregon slowly, painful shed jobs in round after round of cuts. What shines through these pages are the human qualities that have made Tobias a success in her twenty years on the storm beat—a keen reporter’s instinct and eye, a gift for a memorable turn of phrase, and a deep, deep empathy for the people she writes about and who also call this special place home.
(Even though it says I started and finished on same day, I forgot to enter when I started 5 days ago.) I thoroughly enjoyed the behind the scenes stories that Lori shares with the reader. Many with sad outcomes written so you feel the pain of the victims.
I read this author's novel (Wander) and really enjoyed it--her voice and style just pull you in--so I opened this book hoping I was in for another good read. I had no idea just how good of a read it was going to be. I started it just before dinner and my husband had to tell me three times that dinner was ready before I *finally* put it down. When he said he had work to do afterward, I was thrilled--I could get back to reading sooner than I thought. At 11:30 that night, 6+ hours after starting the book, I finished it. Suffice to say, I couldn't put it down. Tobias chronicles a job that demands she put herself in the middle of unrelenting heartbreak and sadness, and yet she manages to keep her humanity intact. How, I don't know. You feel her pain when her editor demands she contact a grieving family that just learned of a loved one's death, and she helps you understand that sometimes the family welcomes that interview as a way to tell the world about the special person it lost. And you root for her when she refuses to contact a woman whose husband just died because that particular situation feels too intrusive. You feel her courage at mastering (only for a moment) her fear of heights as she dangles from a helicopter, her pain when she says a final goodbye to her own father, her exhaustion when she's called out to witness tragic event after tragic event--capsizings, car accidents, murders, and murder/suicides. And on top of it all, you get a ringside seat to the death of newspapers: the loss of ads, the loss of jobs, the loss of an industry, the loss of an experience that many of us have known all our lives--reading the paper. The life of a reporter is clearly difficult, both physically and emotionally, but Tobias tells us her story in such a way that you feel like you're listening to a good friend. And in the end, you understand why she did it--and maybe you wonder what price she paid for doing it, too.
I adored this memoir set at my favorite place in the world, the coastal regions of Oregon. Interwoven with stories she reported on as a journalist for the Oregonian are segments of her own experiences. Oregonians will no doubt remember many of the stories she reported on but it was interesting to hear more of the behind-the-scenes details, plus there were a few stories I had never known about.
It's a quick read and I recommend for Oregonians plus anyone else interested in our part of the world and the strange goings-on that can happen in what people think is a bucolic part of the state.
Thanks to the publisher for access to an early digital review copy.
I must start by saying that Lori is a friend, so I’m biased. Also, I live and write in the area she writes about. That said, this memoir of her years as a reporter covering the Oregon Coast is fascinating. She tells us the stories behind the stories, along with what was happening in her own life as she raced off to cover a murder, a capsized boat, a fire, or something more upbeat. Many of the stories are dark. Bad news always seems to get more press. But there were also the times when she was kissed by a sea lion or celebrated the opening of a new winery. Her beat was vast, 360 miles of coast from California to the Washington border, the weather was brutal and the deadlines were tight, but now as she reflects on those days in her memoir, she is able to slow down and reflect on what it all means. Like any good news story, this book is well-written, suspenseful, and full of fascinating facts.
Lori Tobias captured in this book what the Oregon coast is really like if you live there. The weather, the distances, the struggle for many to make a living, and the dangers of the ocean. Also the people, the politics, and the friendships.
She is from a generation of print journalists who were taught to tell an accurate story, as opposed to merely a sensational one. She was a newspaper reporter who found herself in a declining newspaper industry. That decline is a visceral subplot in the book. She and her husband moved to the Oregon coast, where she began freelance writing for the Oregonian, and then became a low hour limited reporter covering the entire Oregon coast.
Storm Beat: A Journalist Reports from the Oregon Coast (OSU Press) is a new memoir by Lori Tobias. As a journalist, Tobias has covered the Oregon coast for the last 20 years, writing about small towns, fishing, tourism, crimes, good times, tragedies, and storms -- lots of storms. Her new memoir tells her own story, the story of life along Oregon's 300 miles of rugged coastline, and what's its like to be a working reporter as newspaper industry declines.
I recommend this one for anyone who enjoys good creative non-fiction, the Pacific Northwest, armchair travel, the newspaper industry, or a good memoir.
At a time when it seems newspaper reporters have gone the way of rotary phones & faxes, it's refreshing to read about an "old-school" journalist -- but also heartsick for the loss of professional, consistent, local news sources.
As one who grew up in Colorado (reading the Post & News), worked as a newspaper reporter, and has lived on the Oregon Coast for 16 years, I know well the people, places & stories Tobias recounts. Reading her insider-view provided new perspective and appreciation.
Thank you, Lori, for sharing your experiences in this well written memoir! I picked up this book hoping to read about some of the places I came to know as the young son of an OSP game officer stationed in Astoria. It did not disappoint! To the contrary, your descriptions of the locations bring the settings into clear focus along with the people in the stories. Hoping to see more of your writing in the future!
After living in Oregon for three months, “Storm Beat” came into my life at the perfect time. This book was a quick read and Lori shares stories about so many popular coastal towns in OR, as well as her own experiences living in the PNW.
Most stories take place in the early 2000s - with some memories as late as 2012. With this timing, some content feels a bit outdate, but I recommend this book nonetheless.
As a newcomer to the coast, this book gave me a sense of the coast's recent history, geography and heartaches. Plus the life story of a reporter is a fascinating thing.
I’m not a fan of memoirs, but this was a fascinating read. It felt like I was in Tobias's hip pocket as she covered the Oregon Coast for the Oregonian between 2004 and 2013, as print media struggled to survive. She shared the human side of reporting mostly disasters - natural and human - seemingly a steady stream of them. Events in Tobias's personal life helped explain her approach to journalism. I enjoyed her spunk, determination, and willingness to laugh at herself publicly. I think she’d be a good person to have in your corner when times get tough.