A Legacy of Service, Faith, and Family: Honoring Steve A. Duran

Few names are as synonymous with grassroots Hispanic journalism, workforce empowerment, and unwavering public service in South Texas as the Duran family name. This year, we have the honor of celebrating Steve Duran, recipient of the La Prensa Texas Legacy Award. Steve’s life story is a powerful testament to what it means to keep a promise, uplift a community, and honor a family’s enduring dream.

Before he ever sat behind a publisher's desk, Steve Duran wore a badge. He served ten years as a police officer, working as an investigator, learning early how to read people, their moods, their silences, what they needed before they said it out loud. That decade on the force taught him how to communicate across diverse walks of life and handle high-pressure situations with empathy.

It's a skill that never left him. It just found a new uniform. And that new uniform came in 1988, when his father, Florentino “Tino” Duran, was opening a newspaper in Fort Worth called El Informador and needed someone who understood computers. Steve did. “He came home with a computer one day and said, ‘Here, do it,’” Steve remembers. So he did, and taught himself the newspaper business the same way his father taught him everything else: by handing him the work and trusting him to rise to it. And that trust, mi gente, that trust ran both directions.

Tino was tough on his son growing up, tough in the way fathers are when they're building something in you that takes years to recognize. “I really understand now that the whole time, he was teaching me to be a better person,” Steve says. What Tino taught him about journalism was simple and unbending: tell the truth, and tell the good stories. “My dad’s philosophy about the newspaper was that we never wrote bad stories. We didn't want to report the gossip,” Steve says. “We told the good stories about the community, what was happening in the community, and that's what we lived on.”

It was that same devotion that pulled Steve back to La Prensa in its darkest hour. After his father's passing, the paper his family had built was struggling to survive. When Steve heard the news, he didn't hesitate. He pulled $20,000 from his own retirement to keep it alive. Around the same time, he'd built a relationship with a woman named Yvette Tello through their years working Fiesta together. He brought her in. Between the two of them, they stabilized La Prensa and set it on a path to thrive again.

“I promised him I would keep it alive, and it is still alive,” Steve shares. “Before he died, I told him I would never let the newspaper close, that I would make sure his dream stayed there. I think I've done that,” he says, “even though it switched hands, it switched to somebody I could trust.” He still talks to his father. “My dad was very spiritual, and I still believe he's around, watching over us,” Steve says.

His mother, Millie Duran, shaped La Prensa just as fiercely, fighting through serious illness to make sure every story met her standard. “She didn't let anything pass her,” Steve says. And even after Alzheimer's began taking hold of Tino, he kept trying to deliver the paper himself, still introducing himself as publisher, still offering to help.

Steve’s heart for service extended far beyond the newsroom. Joining Alamo Colleges, he worked tirelessly for years, rising through the ranks to become the Director of the Workforce Center at the Toyota Training Center. Driven by a passion for education, Steve routinely worked from 5:30 a.m. until late in the evening to open doors for students and workers across South Texas.

Through local endowments, La Prensa contributed roughly $200,000 to regional higher education institutions, including Alamo Colleges, San Antonio College (SAC), and the University of the Incarnate Word, providing annual scholarships to ensure Hispanic youth could pursue their educational aspirations.

Through it all, his wife Virginia has been the steady hand behind him, 45 years of marriage, and, he jokes, a life sentence he wouldn't trade. She pushed him through Fiesta commitments even as his own health quietly buckled beneath him.

To this day, Steve remains guided by faith, family, and an unshakeable love for San Antonio. When asked what title he would give to a love letter written to the city, his answer is immediate and simple: “My Love of San Antonio.”

To the next generation carrying La Prensa forward, his advice is just as plainspoken: “Follow your heart. Do the right thing. I think you'll make it in the newspaper business.”

And to the community that raised him and that he never stopped serving, as an officer, a publisher, an educator, a son, his message is the same one his family has carried for three generations: mi gente cuida a mi gente. Nuestra gente se cuida entre sí.

Following in My Father’s Footsteps: An interview with the Publisher of La Prensa Texas, Steve Duran

What do you remember most about your Father?

His craziness, his personality. He was the funniest guy I knew. Loved to joke, that’s where I get it from.

Your son Christopher Duran, his grandson, said he was all work no play.

That was my Dad. Even after a funeral, we went to eat and then he said, “ok let’s get back to work.” He even said it after my grandfather’s funeral. I told him, “after you die, I am going to close the paper for two weeks!” He said, “You son of a Gun, you better not!”

How do you feel about running the paper without your dad at the helm?

I really don’t feel like I am doing this without him. 15 years ago, I told him when I retired from Alamo Colleges, I would come and help him for free. I am ready to retire and I am running the paper and working for free like I said I would do. I feel like I am helping him. This is my way of honoring him and keeping him alive.

You have partnerships now with La Prensa Texas; your father did not.

Tino wanted it to be Durans and Durans only. We used to tell him we thought he loved the newspaper more than us. He would say, “if I stop, the money stops. As long as I keep going, you guys have all this.” When we grew up, we had a 2 acre lot with a two story house, 4 bedrooms. That was unheard of for Hispanics to have that much property and to live like that in 1968. He provided for us really well. He left so many wonderful memories. There isn’t one day that I do not hear a story about my dad.

Now that you have a board, do you think it was right to go with your decision to become a nonprofit organization?

Absolutely. This has been a very positive addition. They have all contributed to keeping the reputation of La Prensa Texas alive. They remind other boards they are part of us to advertise with us. Our partnership with the WDC has been the biggest asset of all. They stand and deliver on their mission statement to foster economic development, and preserve the character, culture and history of the Westside.

There were things your dad wanted to keep in place but at the time you did not want to.

He was headstrong against my ideas. People often ask me, “Why do you help him? He is so mean to you.” I would tell people, “you see it that way but I see that he's trying to teach me something,” and he was. He taught me right from wrong. He taught me how to survive. In my whole life, I have never applied for any government assistance or unemployment benefits. He taught me more than any teacher could have taught me, any instructor, any college, anyone in this world. There are times that people ask me “why did you do it that way?” I would say because I'm a Duran. That's the Duran way; you wouldn't understand.

If you could have one more conversation with your father what would it be?

I would like to talk about the time my grandmother, who was his mother, picked me up for the first time ever. She favored my other two brothers because I was usually with my other grandma. She really never cared for me. That day, she made up for it. It was the best day of my life. She bought me ice cream and she bought me shoes. I even got to spend the night at her house. That night, an ambulance picked her up. I never saw her again; she passed away that night. It is strange because I don't remember any of the bad stuff. I just remember that very special day. I would like my dad to know that. We never talked about it.

When you look back now, do you see that you are exactly like your father?

I have his temper and I have his love for the community of San Antonio. Like him, to this day, I feel like I haven't done enough. My wife asked me when will enough be enough. I feel like I would like to make a bigger impact than I have. I was the trouble child. I would quit jobs all the time just because they upset me. I finally found my way. I grew up and I did what I needed to do. My dad did tough love on me and that was hard but I learned from it; I learned how to survive on my own. I am like my Dad because nothing can keep me down. If I have something to say, I say it. If I say I am going to do something, I do it.

When the publisher chose to close La Prensa down rather than pass it on, what was the most difficult part of that for you?

The hardest thing was taking the money out of my retirement, and not knowing if the paper was going to survive. Everybody asked me to keep it going, but nobody stepped up to help me get it done; nobody said, “let me help you do this financially.” Then tragedy couldn’t have struck at a worse time. There was a flood that destroyed our home, vehicles, and all we owned. If it wasn't for my staff and our board, I would have closed down 6 months ago. The only reason I keep going is because I made a commitment to San Antonio and I want to stand by my commitment.

Before I leave this earth, I want to make sure La Prensa Texas continues to serve the community. This is how I walk in my father’s footsteps.