The Keeper of Stories at The Omaha World-Herald

Matriarchs of the Pen: A series honoring my humble journalism beginnings

By Josefina Loza

I was so incredibly nervous when I first set foot in The Omaha World-Herald’s library. I had no idea what to expect from my position when I was offered a part-time job.

I was sent to a back room where the black-and-white film photography, microfiche, and microfilms were kept. My job was to collect and file the photos returned in a wire basket. When a reporter needed a photo file, I left a sticky note on my temporary desk to pull and hand to the requester.

The Omaha World-Herald’s library was truly a hidden newsroom gem. They say every picture tells a story, and in a place like the library, the stories ran deep, as deep as those seemingly never-ending rows of 8-foot rolling file cabinets. It was in this silent, yet profoundly evocative realm, that I first met Jeanne Hauser.

She taught me that the Omaha World-Herald wasn’t just a newspaper. It was a legacy, a time capsule of the heartbeat of Omaha and its surrounding environs. And as the Chief Librarian, Jeanne was, in many ways, its guardian. While many might picture a librarian as someone ensconced behind a desk, engrossed in cataloging, Jeanne was so much more than that. She was an integral part of the newsroom, the unseen hand guiding reporters through the annals of history.

To the casual observer, it might seem as though Jeanne merely pulled up old clippings for reporters, but she was a detective of sorts.

Think about it – in an age before the ubiquity of digital databases, someone had to know exactly where to find details about the rare snapshots of Elvis Presley’s visit to Omaha or the haunting images of the 1919 murder of Will Brown.

That someone was Jeanne.

Whenever a reporter was working on a piece that required a historical perspective, or simply needed to reference a past event, they would turn to Jeanne. With her meticulous understanding and an almost photographic memory of the archives, she would delve into those vast collections, emerging not just with a relevant clipping or photo, but often with additional information that added depth and nuance to the story.

The photos in those archives? They weren't just simple images. Each was a relic of a moment frozen in time, and they bore witness to Omaha's ever-evolving tapestry. Jeanne would often share snippets of stories with me - of the Roosevelt parade down Dodge Street or the chilling crimes of Charles Starkweather. These weren't just tales; they were living history.

Moreover, Jeanne’s role wasn’t merely retrospective. As the newsroom evolved, so did she. She became adept at identifying trends, and analyzing how past events might shed light on current occurrences. Her insights became invaluable, especially when the newsroom grappled with complex issues that had historical precedents. 

But perhaps what I admired most about Jeanne was her reverence for the stories and the storytellers. To her, every clipping, every photo, every scrap of information was a piece of Omaha's soul. She treated the archives not just as a collection of the past, but as a testament to our city's resilience, its challenges, its joys, and its triumphs.

In the vast maze of The Omaha World-Herald’s library, amidst the smell of aging paper and the soft hum of the microfiche machines, Jeanne Hauser wasn't just a librarian. She was a custodian of memories, a bridge between the past and present, and an invaluable asset to the tapestry of tales that the World-Herald brought to its readers.

In paying tribute to her, I’m not just honoring the woman who guided me during my early days in the newsroom. I’m acknowledging every unsung hero who, like Jeanne, works behind the scenes, ensuring that our stories – in all their rawness, beauty, and complexity – are never forgotten.