Back in the 1990s, unbeknownst to my bosses at what was the Roanoke Rapids Daily and Sunday Herald, I would steal away to Jackson before an evening Northampton County Board of Commissioners meeting and spend time in a small office that housed the now-defunct Northampton News.
It was there editor Keith Hoggard and I would rail against the system and discuss the burning issue of the time — a proposed hazardous waste incinerator.
This morning I learned my friend Keith had died and it leaves a void in my heart.
***
I was not well liked by many in eastern Northampton County. It really wasn’t me, I always believed, but the way the paper I worked for took a very early editorial stance against the project.
The climate back then over this project was much like the climate is now and you are often judged not by your merits but whether you’re on one side of the political fence or the other. Fence-straddlers like myself are often looked upon as outcasts.
Keith always went to bat for me and helped me make some inroads with the crowd steadfastly in favor of this project although the powers that were at my paper were steadfastly against it.
That often leaves the reporter as the face of the organization and we often have to bear the outrage of what is spun on the opinion page.
Sad but true and it’s only become worse since that time.
***
Cal Bryant, editor of the Roanoke-Chowan News-Herald in Ahoskie, called to break the sad news.
In our talk I asked Cal a question that kept nagging me. “You don’t think it had something to do with the election results and Keith decided he couldn’t bear the next four years?”
Cal laughed. He was thinking the same thing. There was no love lost between Keith and the conservative set.
Levity in these grave situations helps.
***
We formed a friendship over those clandestine meetings at that little office in Jackson as we talked, Keith taking sips from his ever present mug of coffee.
An English major, among other degrees he held, Keith was the epitome of a writer trained in the grammatical science of the craft where I had this raw talent and eschewed the practice of writing, rewriting, and editing. In the news game there wasn’t time. The Northampton News was a weekly paper. He had that time.
We often, much to the chagrin of high school English teachers who invited us to young writers camps, taught the children the differences between writing a research paper and writing a news story under deadline pressure.
My standard line was forget everything you’ve learned this week. Writing, rewriting and editing is out the window.
We even staged a skit where we argued about this very thing and in the end I pulled a blank pistol on my friend and a Northampton County deputy waiting in the wings arrested and handcuffed me.
The students then wrote a news story on their observations, several in the classic AP news, inverted pyramid style.
***
Keith was an English teacher’s writer, proficient and grammar perfect. I was a newspaper editor’s writer, getting all the details I could after follow ups and filing the story with a to be edited slug.
Despite these educational differences, we became fast friends, me in awe of his classic writing prowess and he in awe of my ability to hammer out a story on the first attempt.
***
After learning the news this morning, I called someone who had worked with him as she wanted to get a taste of journalism. She was devastated as well and while she chose not to stay in the game, she breathed in every lesson he taught her and continues to use those lessons in her own line of work, becoming the goto person for writing proposals, casting a critical eye over documents, or just making suggestions.
She thought she was going to be working with an intimidating, tyrannical editor, however, she learned that the man with the unkempt beard and unorthodox worldview was a teddy bear at heart.
I knew from the moment I met him that this was the case. While an old soul in many ways, he had a progressive view of the world and politics and like myself, practiced patience with the uninformed.
***
After leaving the Goldsboro paper, having had enough of the micromanagement there, I talked to Jay Jenkins, then editor of the News-Herald and inquired about any openings.
They had one. I was hired and since the Northampton News was a memory, I would be reunited with my friend. Instead of a brief story introducing me, he wrote a near-profile length piece on me coming onboard.
I knew I was respected by this genial man with an incredible curriculum vitae and had it not been for the pay, I would have continued working there.
Working at what essentially is my hometown paper, I saw the journalist in him shine through more than the English major side.
He worked himself sick during the early morning hours of Hurricane Floyd. That was how committed he was to the craft.
I was honored to be an usher at his wedding. More so, I was honored to be his friend.
Many of you might not recall, but after his paper days he became the public information officer for Halifax County Schools, again using his writing talents for a different purpose.
***
I will always treasure the time spent knowing this man, learning to become a better writer and editor, and especially those times when I stole away to that little office in Jackson to rail against the system and discuss that divisive hazardous waste incinerator.
Rest in peace my friend — Lance Martin