In September of 1991, in the depths of the Bush-the-Father recession, I penned a piece for CJR. Headlined “A Lost Generation,” it bemoaned the loss of young talent graduating from journalism schools with no job prospects. I was a hiring editor at the Los Angeles Times, and only a year or so before the economy tanked I had helped bring on almost seventy-five new editorial staff members. But that was then; 1991 was but an early version of now.

Now, I have another concern as I ready myself for a second career after twenty-four years at the paper. If it was young talent left knocking at the door in the early 90s, this current job loss is people being shown the door, and they are not newly scrubbed J-school graduates.

I’m a giant fan of the effect young talent can have on newsroom morale and the freshness of the news report. I’ve been a leader in the infusion of youth into editorial at the Times for the past twenty years. I argued in 1991 that already out-of-touch newsrooms could scarcely afford to forego the energy and new ideas that twenty-somethings would deliver. Today, however, with the exit of twenty-something-years-in-the-business journalists, the risks are even greater.

As for me, I’ve had enough time in the room. I’ve run reporters and I’ve run editions. I’ve hired and, yes, I’ve fired. I’m ready to pursue the next new thing, to bring new energy to a different work world. I’m excited, because I think we journalists typically undervalue our skill set, a very versatile toolbox with some giant advantages—we’re naturally curious and always ask questions; we know how and where to get information and quickly organize it; and we’re good connectors of seemingly disparate dots. Most of us will land quite well, thank you.

Still, I’m concerned for newspapers. I remain devoted to their ideals and their energy, and I worry that the wholesale exit of experience, of people who truly know how to do this, will result in a less skilled, less nuanced, less sophisticated report to readers.

I know if I were an elected official or a bureaucrat or a financier or a developer, I’d be dancing jigs about being covered by a rookie whom I can work rather than an experienced, no-nonsense veteran who can see right through the BS and work me over for the straight answer. We’re on the verge of a crisis of experience in journalism, where the people with wisdom are walking out the door, leaving the young people coming in with no one to learn from.

And don’t think the young talent doesn’t know this. In my room—I’m currently the administrative editor for Metro/California—the beginning reporters are as concerned about this as anyone. They learn fast, awesomely fast. But they also recognize that they have to learn from someone—by eavesdropping on a veteran conducting a tough phone interview, or watching an experienced beat reporter figure out how to get information even though the bureaucracy denies her access. Those someones are increasingly absent, walking out the door after buyout or layoff.

I fear the result. So should newsrooms, and so should readers. The great young talent will be brought along too quickly. They’ll be placed in positions of deadly responsibility before they’re ready. Just watch this show up in the next couple of years, when reporters with less than two or three years of experience are assigned to major beats. Watch it and watch out.

Richard Kipling is a former metro/California administrative and development editor for the Los Angeles Times.