"No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe."
These words were written by John Donne, the Dean of St. Paul's, and appear as his 17th Meditation in "Devotions upon emergent Occasions and several steps in my Sickness," published in 1624, a work in which he reflects upon his life in the midst of a serious illness (most likely typhus). Like many literary works, the words are timeless, and their meaning is not constrained to the occasion of their birth.
Donne's meditation is easily transferred to the person who was, is, or will be, editor of this or any journal. No editor is an island. No editor can honestly claim to be "intire of it selfe." The Editor of the Journal rides on the tide generated by his staff, his reviewers, and his readers. I have been blessed with a marvelous staff, enormously energetic and dedicated. They have always been willing to go the last mile--and more if need be. Most--but not all--came to the Journal soon after it arrived in Austin.
The bedrock on which the Journal has been built is its numerous reviewers, too many to thank individually on this page, but appreciated nonetheless for their individual contributions. Reviewers define the quality of a journal, and we have had a superb cohort working for us--voluntarily. I have to apologize publicly to some (you know who you are) who were abused by repeated requests on a short time base for their comments on manuscripts. This condition, which occurred more often than I would have liked, arose from the idiosyncratic confluence of manuscript flow, momentarily popular topics, and the need for certain kinds of expertise. I know that multiple requests for comments came too rapidly in some cases, but it was of paramount importance to get "good reviews" whom I could trust, and I knew where to turn. Thanks to all of you who stepped forward in such circumstances, with grace and good humor, to produce the quality reviews that were so valuable to me.
No editor is an "Iland, intire of it selfe," especially when it comes to the details of editorial processes and production. We--you and I--have had the good fortune to have had an editorial staff that was always willing to take the extra step--handle the extra manuscripts, page proofs, and spend the extra hour--to get the work out of Austin. As important as each staff member has been for whatever we might claim as successes, I owe the most to Debora Bittaker--my friend and colleague, DAB--who moved to Austin from Tucson when I became Editor. Debora has been the instrument by which the Journal was transformed from what was, essentially a "hot type" operation in 1978, to our current computer-assisted composition system which has produced enormous savings in resources as well as providing greater creative flexibility for the production of the Journal. Debora was able to adapt off-the-shelf software to our needs, train the staff, and bring the new production process on-line, all while the Journal was being produced in the "old ways."
It would be misleading to give the impression that Debora's contributions were limited to the editorial and production process. Perhaps as importantly, she was the repository of a myriad of details, both technical and philosophical, that extended back to two editors before me, to 1966, when she worked first with Bill Kieffer and then with Tom Lippincott. The wealth of information and experience that she brought was a gold mine to a new editor. I am eternally grateful for the errors that I did not make because of her counsel; indeed, I'm certain there are errors I do not know I didn't make because she was there.
Finally, I have to thank my own "private editor"--JML--for the depth of her understanding when "Journal business" had to take precedence, even when it made the most ordinary of human activities awkward. She provided a much-needed private and unbiased sounding board for ideas, both editorial and philosophical.
No editor is an island. Neither is the readership of a journal. We look with fondness at the past, with pleasure at the present, and with anticipation to the future.
JJL
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