The Great Magazine Robbery

A thief made off with 4,000 copies of our print edition. Why?

One Saturday morning in April, I entered a storage space in my apartment complex and discovered that thousands of copies of Denverse had vanished.

I did a triple-take, groggy from the night before. Up to that point, I’d been sleepwalking, reluctant to embark on my paper route, but in three blinks, a crisis! Thousands of magazines. Thousands of dollars. They were all gone!

The concrete floor of the 5x10ft caged area was completely bare. I stepped into the space, thinking I was hallucinating and that any moment I’d trip over the stacks, but no.

Someone at the complex must have cleaned the thing out by mistake!

I rushed from the storage area to the office, panicked, cursing, pissed. Admittedly, it was nice to feel alive that morning though. A punch in the nose! A splash of bright red in a world gone dark. As an old teacher of mine used to say, I like the action.

Once in the office, I assumed the posture of a wronged but dignified American–a stern but reconcilable customer, confident he would be made whole because he was worth it.

I crossed my arms. I puffered my fish. “Yes, I know it’s not your fault, but it’s absolutely crucial I speak to someone in management today. This is an emergency.”

I added “CEO” to the signature of my emails as I fired them off to upper staff. Calls were made, Saturday calls, which would test and confirm the limits of my perceived value as a resident and citizen. There was no response.

The next day, getting desperate, our entire inventory plundered, I dug around for cell numbers. I can get anyone’s cell number, I like to say.

I called a number associated with the name of the leasing agent who’d given me a deal on the storage unit. A Sunday call. Another test of my power.

“Hello?” a voice answered drowsily on the other end.

“Hi, —, this is Paul French in Unit —. I was wondering if you’d been getting my emails.”

“About what?”

“About the inventory taken from my storage unit.”

“Oh fuck you.”

He hung up.

For a second, I was on the verge of becoming a victimized and angry American customer, truly an ugly sight, but I realized the voice on the other end had sounded nothing like my guy, who has one of those clear, bourbony baritones, like our radio host Anthony Elio. I found out there was a local lawyer with the same name, and “fuck you” must have been his way of saying “wrong number.” What kind of fish was he?

I filed the police report and told our creative director Shane what happened. We began puzzling through the case. The apartment complex was still suspect #1, but, if not them, could it really have been theft? Who steals roughly 4,000 magazines, and why?

The issues were in strapped bundles, so it wasn’t as if the person taking them was playing some mystery box game. Also, as I’ve mentioned before, paper is heavy! When we pick up the magazines from the printer, we usually have at least three people and three vehicles helping. I almost totaled my truck, in fact, when I let one of the dock guys load an entire pallet (over 3,500lbs) into the bed (it sank the whole thing almost flush with the wheels). All of that loading and unloading, of course, takes a long time. This would have been quite an operation.

By this point, we’d already circulated most of the copies of the spring issue to subscribers and participating businesses, so it wasn’t the full 10,000 we print–just the 4,000 remaining. But that’s still a ton of magazines (literally), enough to take at least half an hour or so to porter to a necessarily heavy-duty vehicle.

All this to say, whoever took the magazines had to do so very intentionally.

I began questioning my original theory of the apartment complex, as who in their right mind would commit such an undertaking without sending an email? Stranger things have happened, but still.

Shane and I theorized some options in order of likelihood. It was either:

1. A mistake by the apartment complex’s storage team. Likely: because it was the simplest answer. Unlikely: because of the effort involved and (one would hope) communication protocols preventing staff from throwing away residents’ belongings en masse by mistake.

2. Attempted sabotage by a competitor. Likely? Well, not really at all, I would think. Media can be a petty and smarmy business. Even so, it would be a massive reputational risk for some competitor to do something like this, and what would they even gain? We can print more magazines. Yes, it’s a hit, but unless they knew that we were one theft away from being irrevocably destroyed, it would be a bad idea to try to burgle us. Also, they would have to know where I live, where I stored the magazines, etc. Finally, for all of the self-deprecating trash talk I spit at the media, I do think many of us are conscientious folk, who at least want to believe we’re doing the right thing.

3. Attempted sabotage by a slighted article subject. Likely? Also no, for many of the same reasons above. It’s a lot of trouble to do something like this. And besides, we’re not really a gossip rag. Most of the critical views our writers have leveled at people, places, things are usually tempered with an exploration of the other side (ours being a more longform journalistic enterprise, and not exactly packed with editorial hot takes on issues). I’m sure someone’s been irritated by something one of our writers penned (that’s just unavoidable), but you’d have to have quite an axe to grind to commit this kind of theft, and, again, it’s so high-risk! When I talked to Patty Calhoun over at Westword about this (longtime supporter/advisor, by the way; she’s the real deal), she said she was aware of cases like this sparked by miffed subjects. However, being a regular reader, she admitted that she hadn’t seen anything in our publication that would arouse such contempt.

4. Pure theft. Likely? Not at all, unless the thief was either a complete moron or insane. Unless you can sell the magazines through a website or other means (which you couldn’t do without getting caught pretty quickly), there’s no way you could get any value from these copies. It’s not as if there’s a robust black market for print publications out there. I’ve seen people selling stray copies of past issues on Ebay (and I really don’t care about that; it’s quite flattering), but there’s no way you can just sell 4,000 copies of Denverse on the street (if you can, please send notes).

Denverse Podcast Host and Associate Editor Anthony Elio inside of the empty storage unit.

My mind was still set on option 1. After two days, the management at my apartment complex finally got back to me. I had a sit-down meeting with them. They weren’t the culprit, they stressed, adamantly after lots of grilling. Nobody on staff had removed anything from the storage containers, and, as I imagined, there was a rigid protocol about removing items from the units. It was theft, they said. The only question was whether the cameras at the facility had caught a glimpse of the perps.

I waited for word from the Denver Police. There was none. I waited for information from the surveillance company contracted by the apartment. After a week, they sent a curt email saying that, despite multiple cameras being nearby, there were no visuals. Since this was patently absurd (no way someone could have gotten all of those magazines out of there without being on camera), I tried pestering the police to see if they could request the footage. I received a reply saying that our case had been marked inactive. When I asked why it had been labeled inactive, the police told me that they needed information from me. And when I asked what information they needed from me, they requested much of the information I had sent in my original report. I sent the info again, along with some paperwork from the recent purchase we’d made to reprint the magazines we lost. Then I waited again.

Finally, someone from the district (without providing a name) said they were reaching out to the apartment manager, but that they were on vacation…

And, alas, Dear Reader, that is where things sit at the moment. Hopefully, the footage can be retrieved and will reveal something about the perps. I’ll keep you updated if anything interesting happens.

Naturally, I was tempted to use this case as fodder for our next print edition. However, I don’t think lingering on this woebegone topic is good for us, and I have other interests I want to pursue for the next edition. We’ve got to press forward.

That could change if the case gets interesting though, of course. We’ll just have to see. I’m very grateful for all the interest this caper has brought us though. Not exactly free press, but I’ll take it! Subscription rates are looking great! Not nearly enough to compensate for the loss as yet, but, hey, that’s business. I have no doubt that if we stick to the fundamentals and keep putting out great work from talented locals, we’ll make up for it in the long run.

As always, thanks for being part of this adventure in independent media. It’s fascinating, personally, seeing how tricky this entire enterprise is. But so far, so good. And, if our print pirate is reading this, you should know there’s a song in our hearts:

Yours,

Paul M. French, editor