Press Democrat photojournalist Beth Schlanker on the devotion to community that drives her career

“Behind the Byline” introduces readers to those who write stories, shoot photos, design pages and edit the content we deliver in our print editions and on pressdemocrat.com. We’re more than journalists. As you’ll see, we’re also your neighbors with unique backgrounds and experiences who proudly call the North Bay home.

Today, we introduce you to Beth Schlanker, our photojournalist assigned to Napa County.

It was nearly 10 years ago one night when I woke up with a jolt, the picture frame above my bed tapping against the wall, the bed shaking, everything in the room coming alive.

Instinctively, I scooped up my 18-month-old daughter sleeping soundly in her crib. I wrapped her in a blanket and walked outside, not knowing what would happen next.

After a few minutes, though, I handed her off to my mother who was visiting, changed clothes and headed out the door. “Where are you going?” she asked. “To work,” I said.

It was about 3:30 a.m. I had no idea when I’d be back or what I might find, and my heart was pumping with adrenaline.

By the time I entered downtown Napa, it was still dark. Intersection lights were either blinking red or not on at all. The cold morning air was filled with the high-pitched chirps of security systems blaring from every direction.

I threw on my hard hat and steel-toed boots, and grabbed my cameras and a flashlight. The sidewalks were covered with bricks, shattered glass and gushing water. Dozens of flashlight beams traced over the damaged buildings. You had to watch every single step, as to not twist an ankle or hit your head.

Over the following few weeks in August 2014, I documented the earthquake damage.

Countless homes and businesses red-tagged and deemed too unsafe to enter. Facades of historic stone buildings, crumbled and swept into piles on the street. Residents from burnt-out mobile homes waiting for food and water. Dumpsters filled high with broken dishes, furniture and televisions. And eventually grade-school children as they tearfully peeled away from their parents’ arms and returned to school.

Today, there are few places that look like they did when the earthquake hit. The Franklin Station Office is one that sticks out most in my mind. In some ways it’s hard to believe that it was nearly a decade ago that it happened.

Add the wildfires, flooding and COVID-19 into the mix, and the past 10 years have served up a pretty nasty brew to swallow — in Napa County and across the North Bay.

And yet despite all that, I find comfort in knowing that our communities are filled with the most resilient people. Time and time again, I have had the pleasure of meeting people who amaze me with their courage and grit.

Covering the biggest stories of the past decade in the North Bay has been my greatest professional accomplishment, although it wasn’t what I originally set out to do. I kind of stumbled into journalism.

I was originally an art major at a small university in Springfield, Ohio, possessing only a minimal level of artistic talent. Honestly, my focus was on playing field hockey and partying a few too many days a week. Imagine the movie “Animal House” and you will get a pretty accurate picture of things.

By my sophomore year, I was floating along without much purpose when by pure chance I met two photojournalists. After seeing their work, I felt as if I had been struck by lightning. I knew what I was going to do with my life.

A few months later, I transferred to the University of Missouri-Columbia to enroll in their journalism school. I was eager to master the craft of photojournalism, soaking up all the knowledge that I could from professors and students who seemed to know so much more about photography than I did, which was practically nothing.

After a few semesters, I interned at the News-Press in St. Joseph, Missouri, where they were so short-staffed that I was thrown mercilessly into the mix. As a result, I learned more about journalism in six months than I did in all my college classes combined.

A summer internship at the Post-Dispatch in St. Louis taught me that big-city papers weren’t actually a better place to work. In a smaller market, I had been able to do a lot more hands-on community journalism, and that’s what I really enjoyed.

After graduation, I got my first job at a regional bureau of the Minneapolis Star-Tribune. It was -15 degrees at my first assignment and the liquid in my eyes froze. When I landed my next job at the Standard-Examiner in Ogden, Utah, it seemed practically balmy.

I arrived at The Press Democrat in 2010.

Born and raised in St. Louis, I will always be a Midwesterner at heart, but I feel more at home here in the North Bay than in any place I’ve ever lived. Of course, there are a few things that I miss. Family mostly, but also little things — snow flurries on Christmas Eve, circus-sized tents filled with fireworks for sale, and that magical time in the evening when the lightning bugs appear.

During my childhood, my grandfather, uncle, and occasionally my father worked as morticians, operating a funeral home in a small Missouri town. You can imagine the strange conversations around my dinner table growing up. Who died, how they died, a few grim details, oh and please pass the corn-on-the-cob.

While most little girls planned their dream weddings, my cousins and I were discussing what type of flowers we wanted on our casket someday. My selection was a bed of pale pink roses, with absolutely no carnations as filler.

In addition to the hard work of owning a business with our last name on the sign, my family instilled in me a strong sense of personal integrity. I am enormously proud to be a Schlanker, because in the farm town where my family lived, Schlanker is synonymous with integrity, quality and devotion to community.

Similarly, I am proud to be a staff photojournalist at The Press Democrat. I believe so much in the importance of the work we do, and in our mission to provide community journalism to Napa County and across Wine Country at the highest level.