The Star must be ambitious and fearless

The first time I walked into the Toronto Star newsroom I was 23 years old, a small-town girl from Nova Scotia who had never been on a subway. I couldn't quite believe I had landed a coveted one-year internship at the country's largest newspaper.

- NICOLE MACINTYRE

Though new to Toronto, I knew the Star well, having read it almost daily since moving to Ontario to pursue my dream of becoming a reporter. I was in awe of the paper's ambition and influence in the city and its conviction that progressive values could serve as its north star.

The newsroom was full of reporters, editors and photographers devoted to the pursuit of truth. More than anything, I wanted to be one of them. A copy of my first front-page story a feature about the local animal shelter being overrun by pit bulls is stored with my gradeschool report cards and baby photos in a box in my basement.

On a visit home to New Minas during my first year at the Star, my grandfather asked me to drive him to the local newspaper. I assumed he had to pay a bill. The paper was on the main drag, directly beside the fire station where I had spent much of my childhood. My grandfather, who was the father figure in my life, had been deputy chief of the village's volunteer fire service and would often bring me along when he worked on the trucks. The piercing squeal of a dispatch call on the two-way radio he wore on his belt sparked my interest in journalism. I always wanted to know what was happening and be the first to tell others.