Death of a Local Newspaper Legend

By: Jeff Cox At the risk of sounding immodest, I?ve had a pretty good career: Top-level management at two newspapers, then on to national media, awards, accolades, the whole bit. I couldn?t have done any of it without Ray Saul.

Ramon S. ?Ray? Saul died this week at the age of 82, following an awe-inspiring journalism run that spanned nearly 60 years, all at his beloved Standard-Speaker in Hazleton, Pa. He was the paper?s ubiquitous sports editor for 26 years before taking over the managing editor?s position, which he held for 16 years.

To call Saul a legend doesn?t come close to grasping his impact on his field. He was a towering giant both figuratively and physically, the real thing in an age where posers proliferate, an old-school newsman who understood that making a personal connection with readers took far more importance than pretty rhetorical flourishes.

His columns on sports and politics were something out of a Damon Runyon yarn, written in segment form, the letter ?o? with dashes separating the various points. For his sports columns, which he wrote every day, he would capitalize the names of the local and national sports figures he mentioned, believing that what people wanted most was to read the names of themselves, their friends and their kids.

That many of you reading this have never heard of Ray matters little ? his constituency resided in the rugged mountains and gritty coal mines of Northeastern Pennsylvania, and they were the ones he cared about the most.

In an era of one-named stars ? Angelina, Brad, Bruce, Madonna ? he was simply ?Ray.? Mention the name to anyone in those parts and they?ll immediately know to whom you are referring.

For me, Saul began as simply a boss. Though I violated the cardinal tenet for employment in Ray?s newsroom by not being a Penn State graduate, he was the man who gave me my first job in the business, as a general assignment reporter back in August 1987.

But as my career progressed so did my relationship with Ray.

He evolved beyond boss and into mentor, someone to whom I could seek counsel and who would regale me with tales of the old days, then somehow make it all relevant to whatever dilemma I happened to be facing on that particular day.

I miss those conversations, which often took place in his cramped office while he cheerfully puffed away on a cheap cigar, back in the days when you could still smoke in newsrooms.

After 11 years at the Speaker, a year after Ray retired in 1997, I became editor in chief, now giving orders to the very people with whom I came up in the business, and I needed Ray?s wisdom more than ever. I can?t count the times we spent after deadline, our feet up on desks, discussing this reporter or that editor. Ray couldn?t stay away from the newsroom even after retirement, and his columns on both sports and politics appeared in the paper literally up to the day he died Tuesday.

But my favorite days were always Fridays.

At the end of the work week a group of guys reluctantly approaching middle age and who hated crowds would gather at my friend Mark Egger?s sports bar on Wyoming Street for a few cocktails and to play some Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett on the jukebox.

Ray would file his weekend column then join us at the bar.

Shortly before midnight, Ray?s towering, lanky figure, with his gleam of white hair and a couple cigars in his shirt pocket, would saunter in the door. He?d have the same thing every Friday: exactly two scotch and waters, a cigar, and a few laughs with the guys, all of whom treated him with the reverence a local hero deserved and whose companionship he cherished.

And this, ultimately, is how I will remember Ray most ? as my friend.

He didn?t have to agree to be a reference for me after I left the Speaker, but he did. The editor at the next newspaper for which I worked, the (Easton) Express-Times, told me it was Ray?s recommendation that put me over the top in a crowded field of candidates for a vacant assistant managing editor?s job.

And even though I did leave mine and Ray?s hometown for more opportune pastures, our friendship endured, as will his legend among generations of Hazletonians who were fortunate enough to have Ray as their own.

I have lost a friend and journalism has lost one of its brightest stars.

Ray Saul was one of a kind. We?ll not see his like again.