An appreciation of editors

This is a letter to two journalists, and a profession. I’ll get to the people in a minute. First, a few words of appreciation for a profession that is not really my own, but that has been kind enough to let me travel along its corridors and sit in its shade for almost two decades.

I am a lawyer, someone who deals with words and tries to use them to help people. The people that I usually assist are immigrants, or as many might call them, “illegals.” In my quarter century as an immigration advocate, I’ve been successful with my words, using them to persuade judges to let victims of persecution breathe freely in a country that only becomes better by welcoming them. Of all the things I’ve ever done with words, I’m proudest of this.

But I’m also aware that words can have value even if they just hang in the air, and have no other impact than to make us think, make us question, make us angry, make us resolute. Make us realize our limitations, and infinity. That is the job of poetry and prose. Journalism combines them both.

So I’m grateful to have been given the chance to poke my head under the tent, glimpse the work of modern troubadours and tale-tellers, and brush shoulders with those who don’t make news, but who chronicle it. Now comes the letter.

I started writing regularly for a man named Michael Schefer, the Deputy Editorial Page Editor of the Philadelphia Daily News. That was almost 20 years ago. I’d written a letter to the editor, he liked it, invited me to lunch and a decade-long working relationship was born. A great friendship sprang from that. Michael had a Princeton pedigree and a Brooklyn mind, which means he was (and is) brilliant, but suffers no fools. He let me write what I wanted, and defended me to critics with “write a letter telling her how wrong she is. She can take it.” They did, and I did.

I didn’t think I’d meet someone I’d respect as much as Michael, and for a long time I didn’t. So many of the editors I encountered were more concerned with placating readers than with respecting their intelligence. I learned how ubiquitous that sense of pandering to the loudest voices can be when, sadly, I was fired from the Daily News a few months ago. Michael was long gone, and with him that sense of respect for the readers’ intelligence. An inconvenient voice has no place in certain circles. A conservative voice in a blue city is sulfur, waiting for the match.

But the fall from grace, bruising as it was, was cushioned by my second favorite editor, Phil Heron. I’d started writing for the Delco Times in 2012, one of three “voices” recruited to fill the void left by the legendary Gil Spencer. Speaking only for myself, I don’t think we managed to fill that void. But Phil loved his paper and wanted to make it a true voice for the community, in its gritty, impassioned, short-tempered, sarcastic, hysterical, loving and loyal glory. In that, he succeeded.

He also showed his own true character. We never discussed politics, but I suspect that mine and his do not align. That suspicion, however, is irrelevant. Phil never told me “you can’t write that.” He never said “you need to change that.” He never suggested that I tone anything down, or that I worry about what the readers might think. He simply said “send me your column and I’ll run it.”

I know some of those columns must have angered him. My defense of accused priests. My strong criticism of President Obama. My string of attacks on Kathleen Kane (remember her?). My anger at the Democrats and their November juggernaut to dominance. Again, though, just a suspicion. Gentleman Phil printed each column, and didn’t even duck.

Phil’s retirement is devastating for us, a blessing for him. He will enjoy a life with his beloved Patty, who also deserves my profound thanks: time used to shepherd my columns into print was time stolen from her. I’m grateful she will get back what she deserves.

But we will lose that fair, decent, visceral and vibrant narrator of our town and its ups, downs, vicissitudes and glories. And I will have one less role model (one not very much older than me.)

The world can not afford to lose the Michael Schefers and the Phil Herons. And yet, it does. So as Arthur Miller wrote, “Attention must be paid.”

I’m paying attention now. I always will.

Thank you, Phil.