Unpretentious Tad: A Friend and Mentor

I have a passion for unpretentious people. To me, people who live life in an unpretentious manner are the most fortunate people on earth. I am extremely lucky to have known a few and appreciate what I have learned from them. This is the story of one of those people.

I am sure everyone personally knows at least one or two people that fit the nature of this disposition. Unpretentious of course means, "Not putting on a false or showy display of importance, wealth or knowledge."

Tad - Crusty Lifelong Newspaper Reporter

When I broke into the world of news writing years ago, some of the people I worked with would not give me the time of day. Asking a question and getting an answer from a few of the veteran writers was like pulling teeth.

For whatever their reason, some ignored me completely and made me feel like I should automatically know everything about news writing my first week on the job. I was not asking for sacred headline leads...I was simply trying to learn the ropes.

A funny thing happened, though. On my worst day, when I was about to fail miserably on an assignment deadline, which I am sure some were pretty pleased to see; the one person I was terrified to approach for any reason other than a brief "good day," came to my rescue and became one of my finest and favorite mentors.

Despite his wrinkled, musty suit, unshaven face and wild hair that was always sticking up and never combed; this curmudgeon was, a news writing genius with oodles of journalism awards. Tad had the "ins" that most reporters only dream of attaining.

He also had one crazy eye that made him look a bit scary and he generally smelled of alcohol. However, he took to me for some reason, said he saw my writing potential and shared his newspaper writing expertise with me. Tad was in his seventies, did not have many friends and stuck to himself.

Night Desk and Life Stories

Tad was the senior staff writer and often covered the desk at night because he loved being there and he also liked to write breaking news for the morning edition of the paper. I suspected he did not have much of a home life, as he literally lived for the newspaper. Every reporter had to work at least one night a week there as well, but only until 11 PM.

On the nights I worked, Tad shared marvelous stories of reporting in the early days of the newspaper world. I learned enough history about North Central Massachusetts to fill a book. I was forever taking notes on his news tips and tricks as well.

I was eager to learn from a pro and he was happy to share. Unlike some of the other reporters who boasted constantly about their achievements, though, Tad kept all of his to himself like a secret stash of aged wine he may have relished in private.

We used scanners in the newsroom in those days, not sure, if they still do. One night, a report came in that a pedestrian had been hit by a car downtown. Tad offered to go to the police station and hospital because it was pouring out, which was fine with me.

I guess the accident and the stormy night triggered the sad memory for Tad. When he returned, he told me that many years ago, on a rainy night he struck a young girl who was walking on the side of the road. He said he never saw her. The girl passed away and Tad's life was never the same, mentally and financially. A lawsuit left him with nothing to his name for the rest of his life. It was a very sad story to hear and clearly painful for him to recount.

The Newsroom Turns Still

Tad never missed a day of work, but was often a little late and this was one of those days. Well into the morning, the editor made the announcement, that Tad had died in his sleep the night before and services were pending. It was about two months after he shared his painful story with me while working the night desk. I was devastated that I lost my mentor and friend.

I went to the evening calling hours and felt sad that no one but a much younger sister and brother-in law were there. I was only the fourth person to sign the guestbook since early that day. Tad had a nice, neat haircut and a freshly pressed suit on. He no longer smelled musty or of alcohol. I whispered that he looked very dapper and thanked him for sharing so much of himself with me. I also thanked him for being the most unpretentious person I have ever met.