CENTENNIAL SUNDAYS
COVID-19 hit New Mexico hard
Editor鈥檚 note: This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Pepperday/Lang family ownership of the 近距离内射合集. Today鈥檚 installment of its Centennial Sundays series focuses on the COVID-19 pandemic. Five years ago this week, occupancy restrictions tied to COVID were finally lifted 鈥� but not before the pandemic touched just about every New Mexican鈥檚 life. Journal staffers chronicled it all.
On March 11, 2020, Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham announced New Mexico鈥檚 first COVID-19 cases.
Life, as we knew it, changed.
Within days, all nonessential businesses were ordered closed, almost all gatherings were banned, everyone was urged to stay home and travel was restricted. Face masks were soon required.
At first, schools were ordered closed for three weeks. But on March 27, the governor announced all public schools would go to remote learning for the rest of the year. Schools did not fully reopen in person until a full year later, in April 2021.
From March 2020 until July 2021 鈥� 16 months 鈥� New Mexicans experienced a roller coaster of changing restrictions as the number of COVID cases 鈥� and deaths 鈥� rose and fell.
COVID testing became a big part of the effort to contain the virus, and drive-up testing sites sprang up throughout the state. When vaccines became available, New Mexicans formed lines hundreds deep waiting for their shots.
The loss of life was staggering. Overall 9,240 COVID deaths were reported in New Mexico between March 2020 and July 2023.
A total of 682,000 COVID cases were reported during the same period.
The number of deaths peaked in December 2020, when 36 deaths per day were reported. Native Americans were hit particularly hard. They had 58% of the statewide infection rates as of May 15, 2020. However, their rate began to decline, and by mid-February 2021, the rates for Indigenous people was lower than for white people.
While the number of cases peaked in January 2022, vaccines by then had lessened the severity of the illnesses in most cases.
Dying in isolation
鈥淚t鈥檚 lonely 鈥� it鈥檚 truly lonely鈥� was the headline on this April 7, 2020, front page story by Katy Barnitz.
Throughout the pandemic, the Journal sought to tell the stories of COVID鈥檚 victims and their families. We did not want these New Mexicans to be just a statistic that was reported in the state charts. Maria Elena Lopez鈥� story was one of dozens the Journal wrote describing the personal loss of so many New Mexicans.
鈥淢axine Roy Ball Lopez died at the University of New Mexico hospital fighting COVID-19 with no family by her side,鈥� was how the story began.
鈥淏ecause the hospital has limited visitors, her daughter couldn鈥檛 be there. 鈥極ne of the nurses did hold my mom鈥檚 hand to the very end,鈥� Maria Elena Lopez said. 鈥業 asked her to do that.鈥�
鈥淣ow Lopez is alone as she grieves her mom鈥檚 death, and she is hoping that her brother, who she said has tested positive for the same virus that killed her mother, will not suffer a similar fate. 鈥業t鈥檚 a lonely position to be in,鈥� she said Sunday evening, quarantined in the home she used to share with her mom. 鈥業t鈥檚 the worst position. I wouldn鈥檛 wish this upon anybody.鈥欌��
Keeping New Mexicans informed
The Journal became a primary source of information for all New Mexicans. In addition to its comprehensive coverage in print, it created a special website with daily data updates.
鈥淎s the COVID pandemic began to take hold in New Mexico, it became clear readers were turning to the newspaper not only for traditional news, but for information about the virus鈥� human toll in the community,鈥� said Robert Browman, then-visual and digital editor.
鈥淓ach day we created a series of charts with positive and negative cases, as well as reported recoveries and deaths. Charts also showed trends over time. To publish these in one spot, we built a Coronavirus in New Mexico page where readers could visit for the latest data and news.鈥�
New Mexicans were hungry for information; the Journal鈥檚 page views multiplied exponentially during the pandemic.
Since news organizations were considered 鈥渆ssential鈥� businesses, the Journal was allowed to remain open and operating. Editors, the composing room, delivery drivers and pressroom employees continued to work from the Journal offices. Reporters worked from home, and most news conferences, government meetings and other events were conducted by Zoom.
However, reporters, and more often photographers, were required to go into the field to get their stories 鈥� interviewing people through screen doors, heading to major crime scenes or following a healthcare worker as she juggled her job, family and the intricacies of staying safe from COVID.
鈥淵ou had to be out there documenting and you just try to be as safe as you can,鈥� said Matthew Reisen, now a senior reporter at the Journal. 鈥淵ou wear a mask, you social distance, you keep tabs on each other.
鈥淚t was alien 鈥� alien, that鈥檚 the best way I would describe it. It was like the world turned upside down. And I think we adapted.鈥�
Reisen said working from home was difficult for reporters who are used to bouncing ideas off of one another and receiving immediate feedback.
So, City Editor Martin Salazar set up a creative system, splitting the City Desk reporters into two teams. Team A worked 鈥� socially distanced 鈥� in the Journal鈥檚 library one week and then Team B came in the next week. Rotating the in-person teams limited exposure if a staffer became ill, and allowing reporters to come in every other week helped reduce their sense of isolation.
A story that has stayed with Reisen, even now, was an interview with Socorro Mayor Ravi Bhasker, who is also a physician. He described the virus as a wave you see in the distance, that builds and builds, until it flows into your community.
鈥淒r. Bhasker talked about seeing COVID coming from so far away,鈥� said Reisen, 鈥渦ntil it started trickling into this little clinic in Socorro and then killing people, people he had treated for decades.鈥�
The story was published the week New Mexico recorded its 1,000th COVID death. Alongside it was a stark illustration created by Journal artist Cathryn Cunningham of 1,000 tiny crosses on a grey-black background.
鈥淚 think we did amazing,鈥� said Reisen, who stressed the teamwork needed. 鈥淲e did some things that I'm very proud of by going out there and telling the stories while being safe 鈥� but not compromising the job we needed to do day in, day out.鈥�
Marking a year into the pandemic
In March 2021, the Journal produced a special section titled, 鈥淭he Pandemic: A Year Later.鈥�
The cover carried photos of more than 50 New Mexicans. Its subhead was, 鈥淭he Lives Lost and How It Changed Us.鈥�
Those photos were only a small representation of the death toll. The Journal invited New Mexicans to send in photos and stories about loved ones who died. Scores were submitted, and the Journal published them all online. They were the stories and faces of fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, daughters, sons and grandparents. Many families suffered multiple losses.
Again, the purpose was to memorialize the victims of this terrible virus, to be sure each of them was not just another casualty.
In late 2021, the Journal won the New Mexico Press Association Public Service Award for the totality of coverage of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Karen Moses is a former editor of the Journal. She can be reached at kmoses@abqjournal.com.
Coming July 5: The Journal has a strong history of protecting the First Amendment. That was never more evident than when it waged a mulltiyear legal defense in the 1970s of its coverage of possible organized crime ties to New Mexico. A two-month trial ended in victory, not only for the Journal but also for journalists鈥� important role as public watchdogs.
