"That flag" and this shooting

Make no mistake about it. I believe that the Confederate battle jack flying at the State House does not belong where it is and needs to come down.

But for the response to the shooting of nine people in an historic Charleston, S.C., church, the Mother Emanuel AME Church, to so quickly and heavily become a call for the flag's removal by many just seems shocking to me.

Again, it needs to come down, sooner rather than later.

But it is such a distraction for these calls to come less than 24 hours after the deaths of the church, much of its leadership, which includes its senior pastor, a S.C. state senator.

Those who defend the flag say it is a symbol of their heritage. Some even say it is a symbol of our joined heritage. Nonsense.

Even if we grant that it is a symbol of the shared history of South Carolina and all South Carolinians, why just THAT flag? Why just THAT period of our our history?

South Carolina had more military engagements during the Revolutionary War than any other state, perhaps more than all the other states combined. The defeat of the British that ended the war was of a general who had been kicked out of South Carolina by assorted small-time skirmishes and a few key battles.

Why doesn't the "heritage" crowd fly any flag of that period of our past? Why isn't a "Don't Tread ON Me" flag flying at the State House?

The heritage crowd that is such a force in South Carolina politics makes a deliberate choice, all the time, to "honor" and remember that struggle and that period of time, when South Carolina separated from the United States of America, became it's own nation again, briefly, and joined the Confederate States of America, all in an effort to preserve its institution of slavery.

It wasn't about states' rights. It was about the state of South Carolina's right to continue owning slaves. Just read the South Carolina Declaration of Secession. It is vile, and the words slaves and slavery are used repeatedly in all of its arguments.

Again, I believe the flag should come down. I am from the North originally, and ALL my people were in Ireland being repressed by the English at the time of the Civil War, so it's not my heritage.

But the shooting in Charleston, I think, makes a more compelling argument for the flag staying right where it is.

Because it is a symbol, but we really do not realize what it symbollizes.

I think most good, honest, God-fearing South Carolinians do not support it and are horrified by the shootings. Almost all would say they could never condone such a thing, nor excuse it, nor try to say it was something it wasn't. I think they do not support the flag, or do not care one way or another about it.

But the flag should be there, a symbol, and a warning, that this kind of evil exists. Evil is here, and is among us.

Leave it up, as a warning.

The flag, not just what it symbolizes, but what is actually is, is some words.

"Through me is the way into the woeful city; through me is the way into eternal woe; through me is the way among the lost people," as the words on the Gate of Hell in Dante's Inferno say, so says the Confederate flag.

Now is the time to learn about and mourn the dead, slaughtered like lambs in an act of evil.

We need to learn a little about this thing that committed the act. He wasn't born wanting to do this.

We live either in a society that teaches it, or he had some instructors in his hate.

We need to put him behind bars and hope he never sees the light of day again. I think his life should be forfeit, certainly, but in a long time.

It should be long, because I think that we should find a way to come together as a people, to be one, and to not only deny him the race war he sought, but show that he did what he did for nothing nothing that he wanted.

But that will take time, I am sure. So I think the calls for the removal of the flag should be put on hold, at least for a while.

Because that flag, while it flies, says more succinctly than anything else, one simple fact.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."

ADDENDUM: I had yesterday read a column in The State newspaper about "what we can learn from the shooting" in terms of the relations amongst S.C. legislators. The suspect had barely been identified at the time and not yet arrested, and I thought, man, we already have lessons learned? The writer made a good point or two, but I thought it was just too early.
And I might come across as a bit hypocritical with my post here, except part of my point is that it is not yet a day after this tragedy, but we are already turning their deaths into a call to remove a piece of cloth.
So my post comes from the same place as my objection to that column.
Another addition, I might say that I should have known Sen. Clementa Pinckney better. I knew of him. But I never met him. He was the state representative for Allendale County when I was the editor of the late Allendale County Citizen Leader newspaper. And he was elected to the Senate while I was still in Barnwell/Allendale. We just never crossed paths.
My great former reporter Chrissy Edgemon got to know him at the paper then at Allendale County ALIVE and USC-Salkehatchie. She attests to his character and that's all I need to know.
We've lost a good man.
As for the other eight, what I know is they died in church, praying and learning about their faith.
I don't think they were targeted for their faith, but dying in the act of their faith makes them martyrs.
"Truly, this day (they) shall be with me in Paradise."

S.C. Press Association awards, 2014

I won some design awards in the 2014 S.C. Press Association contest for designs done for the Morning News of Florence, S.C.
First off, I won this award for best single sports page. I had a great photo from Florence Assistant Sports Editor Mark Haselden, and he let me play around with it a bit.

(Click on all pictures for a bigger version.)

Also in the category of Best Single Sports Page, I also got a third place in that category, for this design:

Lastly, I placed second in best Sports Design Portfolio. The portfolio included the "Evrik the Great" page above, and these two designs.

Karen Hatton, a designer who works with me in the Consolidated Editing Center in Hickory, N.C., also received two awards.

Sam Bundy, the sports editor in Florence, got a first-place award for some stories he wrote on new basketball league, and one team kind of falling out of it over the course of a few weeks. Neat stuff. I remember working most of those stories onto pages, but because it was happening so fast, nothing really compelling presented itself visually for me to work with.

From my extended journalist family, my old college buddy Hal Millard got an award or two.

The Fort Mill Times won the Public Service award with a host of others. My wife, the former publisher of the Times, thinks the Public Service award is the best thing a paper can get.

And The News & Reporter in Chester brought home a whole stack of awards again, including a first place writing award for Nancy Parsons.

I have been at the Hickory CEC since October, 2010, so four full years and some change. I have been entered in three contests in those years, and won each time, with a first place in each of those years, and two first places two years ago.

In my career, which really got kick started in 1994, I have received many other awards, including design, writing, photography, graphic design and in 2006, non-daily journalist of the year.
The papers for which I worked have received multiple awards as well, including public service, general excellence and multiple citations for protecting Freedom of Information.

BLAST FROM THE PAST: Funeral for a friend, Jim Davenport

Funeral for friend, Jim Davenport

Christmas 2014 letter

Friends and family,

Yes ... the letter at Christmas carries on. A day later than last year, but not too late, we hope. I was thinking of not doing it, but tradition is what keeps us going. 

The Guilfoyles of Fort Mill have had some ups and some downs this year, but I think the ups outnumber the downs.

On the downside, I am still missing my Dad. Particularly around the holidays, or any week with a “day” in it. He was the bright center of our family, always one with a joke.

It’s just that now I am at the point with Stephen Christopher where it would be really nice to bounce questions off Bud. How did he manage four kids? How did he balance it all? Is it really tougher these days? Or are we, as a society, just not as capable? Or am I not?

I try to imagine what he would say, but if I could, I wouldn’t need to ask.

Also still missing my best furry friend. Harry, my first dog, died a couple of months after Dad. Annie, our other dog, has become the most surprising gentle girl. She was hyper-competitive with Harry, it turns out, but now she just wants to be around us.

She was attacked by another dog and suffered about eight nasty bites. It was scary, but she has recovered. Except for one day when she steered clear of that house where it happened (we have to go by it every day for our walk), she shows no long-term issues with it.

Patricia and I also lost a dear friend this year: Rick Bacon, our former boss. We basically met because of him. Always generous, big-hearted and full of laughter, Rick died after a short battle with cancer. We miss him terribly, particularly when we need a laugh.

I remain a copy editor and page designer working in Hickory, N.C., designing newspaper pages (sports right now) since October of 2010.  I work primarily  for Florence, S.C., as well as for papers in North Carolina and Alabama.

The people I work with are terrific, but it’s a LONG commute with terrible  hours. My car hit 250,000 miles last week.

Patricia remains ensconced in the Diocese of Charlotte, N.C.. where she is editor of the Catholic News Herald.

She and her paper hosted the national Catholic media conference in June. It was a BIG DEAL. Hundreds of reporters and newspaper professionals from all over the U.S., Canada and even from Rome came to Charlotte for the event.

I got to attend an Adobe workshop held at the event. Stephen came up with me and we swam in the hotel pool, and he played pool for the first time.

They had a bunch of priests, a bishop and an archbishop or two, and Pope Francis’ social media manager. Jim Caviezel was there promoting his football film. Prima donna.

Patricia isn’t like me and can’t instantly remember how many awards her paper won. “A lot” — 16, including best coverage of religious liberty issues, for her paper, and individually, Patricia placed in best multi-media package. Her staff has been doing a lot of web stuff. She also got an honorable mention for coverage of that terrible abortion clinic I mentioned in last year’s letter.

It has been a good year for our son, Stephen Christopher. He is now 8 and a second-grader.

He has been on a few adventures with Mommy, and he has embarked on new chapters. We have all started “geo-caching,” but it’s mostly Patricia and Stephen right now.

We have changed Cub Scout packs. We used to be at Pack 219 at St. Philip Neri Catholic Church in Fort Mill. We met for den meetings three Mondays a week and a pack meeting on the other Monday each month. 

Stephen earned his Tiger rank in February at 219. I was his den leader. We went to summer day camp with 219. On top of his rank work, he also earned 18 “belt loops,” awards in specific skills. That’s a bunch.

With help from Uncle Johnny, he built a Pinewood Derby race car that was the fastest among the Tigers. He got to go the district level race, but it was a different kind of track and the wedge-shaped cars all won. Still, he got a trophy from the pack.

In the fall, we moved to Pack 9 at St. Patrick Cathedral Parish in Charlotte. That’s where we go to church. This pack has den meetings once a month, followed by the pack meeting, on a Sunday afternoon. 

I am Pack 9’s assistant cubmaster, God help the children.

Like last year, Stephen went on an overnight camping trip with Patricia and the other Scouts. I had to work and missed it, but we went on a family camping trip in November to Kings Mountain. I am still shivering.

Stephen is now working on a new Pinewood Derby car AND his Wolf rank. He convinced at least one friend to join and thus earned a “recruiter” badge. The pack went caroling at a nursing home last week.

We know we haven’t been around as much as we could. We are doing well, but our life is just non-stop hectic most days, so that when we get some free time together, we just generally want to do something quick and easy and together. But never doubt our affection.

Have a merry Christmas. (Email is still the best way to reach me. I check it every day.)

“We love you anyway.”

Stephen, Patricia, Stephen Christopher, and Annie

sguilfoyle@comporium.net

Dec. 22, 2014

BLAST FROM THE PAST: A Freedom of Information editorial

This is kind of raw. Found it on my computer looking for something else.
It is either an editorial I wrote to help out my wife when she was publisher of the Fort Mill Times. Or an editorial I adapted from one I wrote, to help her out.
It's way too long to have run anywhere. But it sums up all I know about Freedom of Information. I will be back later to correct any typoes. It will have some just for being a digital copy 12 years or older sitting around as a text document.
Anyway. ...

Anyone who tells you there’s no “right to know" is right, but  in only the most technical sense.
The right to know isn't a constitutional right, but in South Carolina, it is a right written into law. That law is the S.C. Freedom of Information Act.
It is based on a simple premise -- to know and participate in their government, the people must have access to the meetings and the records of their government.
The people have a right, enacted into laws, to know what their government is doing -- from the smallest governmental level, such as Tega Cay City Council, to the highest levels of government.
Elsewhere on our opinion pages, you will see a guest column from S.C. Gov. Mark Sanford, who says it has been a policy of his administration. He promised such a policy while campaigning, but one of his first steps as Governor was to propose closing his Cabinet meetings.
He was eligible under the law to close his meetings when they met the conditions already in the law, but he just wanted to close them as a blanket policy.
It was a vigorous press, represented by the S.C. Press Association, that convinced the governor to hold the open cabinet meetings he has held since taking office. We can see no signs that our government has been hindered in its capacity to serve us since then.
Sanford says having open government is something he wants to do, and we applaud him for his openness.
But not all our government agencies and officials are quite so forthcoming. In another accompanying column, S.C. Chief Justice Jean Toal reminds not only our readers but all government officials and agencies in this state that openness isn't a policy one can choose to follow or not follow. It is the law.
The primary purpose of the S.C. Freedom of Information Act is to protect its citizens from government secrecy, Toal writes. She is quoting numerous decisions by the court.
When our governments want to go behind closed doors or to withhold public records from the people -- who own the records and pay for them -- they must have a damn good reason.
In another state Supreme Court decision, the court ruled that the FOIA creates "an affirmative duty" on the part of government to open meetings and provide records.
When a government agency says it has to charge you hundreds of dollars to make copies of records in response to a request, they say it is because of all the "extra" work they are doing.
The aforementioned decision, in plain English, means responding to the public IS the job of government. Providing records IS government's job. Holding open meetings IS government's job.
In the state of South Carolina, the right to know is not a constitutional right, but it is a right put into our law.
The Constitution of the United States doesn't have a specifically stated "right to know," but you can look at historical precedent to conclude our Founding Fathers believed there was a right to know.
Specifically, our first President, George Washington, set that precedent.
The President is required by the Constitution to give information to Congress from time to time. As such, "Congress from the beginning has claimed, conversely, the right to ask the President for information," reports a Web site dedicated to the Constitution.. "Washington was called upon by the House of Representatives for papers regarding the defeat of General St. Clair's forces in 1791 by the Miami Indians. After a three-day consideration of the question by Washington and his cabinet, which was regarded as of the greatest importance as a precedent, it was decided that the House had a right to copies of the papers.:
Washington and his Cabinet decided that it was the people's government, so it delivered the papers to the U.S. House. The representatives of the people.
You. It's your government. They are your meetings. The documents are your documents.
It is Open Government Week in South Carolina. If you believe, as many in government do, that it can have the secrets it wishes, hold meetings away from your scrutiny and withhold documents on a whim, then you believe that Americans are subjects to a government that rules them.
Believe in open government, and you believe that Americans are free citizens who participate in the process. We govern ourselves.
President Teddy Roosevelt said it best -- "The government is us...You and me!"
Open Government makes that a reality.

"A Big Heart, Open to People"

By Patricia Larson Guilfoyle

Rick Bacon was there before Patricia Larson got dressed to marry me, and he was there for me and her long before we ever met.

#RickBacon freaked the hell out of me before we'd ever even met. I had driven down from Athens, Ga., where I was wrapping up graduate school and awas nxious to get back into the newsroom. I had a job interview in the morning with Richard N. Bacon, regional publisher of the Barnwell Group of Community Newspapers, Inc.

CNI's Senior Editor Phil Hudgins just smiled when he had told me Rick wanted to interview me down in Barnwell. Phil knew me from when I worked in St. Mary's, Ga., for then-Publisher Dalton Sirmans. Dalton hired this naive 16-year-old who walked in one day off the street asking for a job. ("Can you write?" he said. "Sure," I said, and brought him my latest term paper about graviton particles and the space-time continuum. He hired me the next day, and one of my first assignments was covering a pipe-bomb explosion at the new Subway in town. I was hooked!)

Well, Phil knew Dalton, and Phil knew Rick, and Rick knew Dalton. So before I knew it, I was driving east, trying to figure out where the heck in South Carolina Barnwell was.

I checked into the one motel in town and went to my room. Before I had even swung the door open all the way, the phone on the table started ringing. The sudden noise made me jump -- who in the world knew where I was? I mean, I wasn't even inside the room yet.

Of course, it was Rick.

"Hi! It's Rick Bacon. Do you want to get something to eat?"

That was the first thing I realized about Rick: Nothing – and no one – got past Rick. He was crazy like a fox.

We headed over to Anthony's, one of his regular spots. Of course, he knew the waitress and pretended to give her a hard time. He ordered a beer and asked if I wanted one, too. I thought, "I'd never been on a job interview like this before." But Phil had told me that he was good buddies with Dalton, so he couldn't be all that weird.

Boy, was I wrong. Rick was a lot weirder than Dalton. Dalton liked to drive gold-colored cars and made fun of his alma mater, Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College ("I'm just a poor ol' country boy from ABAAAAAC," he'd say in his best south Georgia drawl). But Rick had a thousand crazy voices, which he'd pull out at just the right – or wrong – moment, and his collection of pig paraphernalia bordered on the fanatical. Don't even get me started on his cars.

I don't even remember what all we talked about, sitting there in Anthony's eating open-faced steak sandwiches and drinking beer. I just remember thinking, "I gotta come work for this guy."

Turns out, Rick had already decided to hire me after talking with Phil and Dalton, so the entire "interview" was just to test me.

That was the next thing I realized about Rick: Rick was awesomely cool. He could be exasperating, but only in the nicest possible way, and for all the right reasons. And he knew what was important as a leader and manager, whether people liked him or not.

The next three years were a blur, but a couple of moments will always stand out.

Less than a week into my job, Rick tells me I have to fire a sports correspondent. The guy had been writing for The People-Sentinel only about 50 years or so, he said. But people at the rec league baseball games he'd been covering smelled alcohol on his breath a lot. He had to go. 

"I've never fired anyone in my life," I told Rick. "Can't you do it?" 

"Nope," he said. "You're the editor. Oh, I've already called him, and he'll be here in a few minutes. Take him into the conference room."

Well, the guy came in, still smelling of alcohol. He cried like a baby when I gave him the news. At 23, I'd never seen a grown man cry in real life before. After he left and I went back to my desk, which I had strategically positioned right next to Rick's, I was shaking. I felt awful.

Rick looked over, with that fake-innocent look of his, and mouthed the words, "You bitch."

That was Rick. Rick could make you laugh no matter what.

Another moment that stands out was back at my desk, sitting right next to Rick. That week's edition had two big stories in it: One about students having sex in the bathrooms at Allendale High School, the other about workers accidentally wringing the necks of two ostriches that were the sideshow attraction at the local flea market, which happened to be owned by the mayor. I'm on the phone getting blessed out by the principal at Allendale High, when the mayor's wife walks in and sits down in the chair beside my desk. She doesn't care that I'm on the phone, she's just read the paper and is crying/mad because I've just ruined her husband's reputation.

"They didn't mean to hurt those ostriches – it was an accident."

Then on the phone: "You think writing about our problems is what you should be doing? You should be building up our schools, not tearing them down."

"The birds just got excited and pulled back on the ropes while they were being unloaded. They wrung their own necks, see?"

"Don't you know these kids are going to read that on the front page and think they can go have sex in any bathroom now? You're making our jobs harder."

I hung up on the principal and tried to explain things to the mayor's wife, but I could not get a word in edgewise.

Then Rick moseys over, puts on his best genteel Southern persona and takes the woman's hands in his, pulling her gently up from the chair as he pats her hands. He puts one arm around her shoulder to comfort her, as he steers her smoothly to the door. He's thanking her, he's soothing her, he's smiling at her in the kindest way possible. By the time she reaches the front door, she's smiling up at him and thanking us for the good job we're doing at the paper.

After the door swung shut, he turned around, bowing with an exaggerated flourish as everyone in the room applauded. He was the master!

That was the next lesson I learned from Rick: No matter what problems you're dealing with, other people have problems, too. Sometimes all people need is a sympathetic ear and a smile to cheer them up. And the Big Guy could cheer anyone up. Even people who got mad at him still liked and respected him.

At some point along the way I started calling him Big Guy, from "WKRP." And since he had a nickname for nearly everyone, he started calling me PL or PT. Through the few months I worked in Barnwell to when I moved to Winnsboro, he was always there with support and encouragement, and when I screwed up or was unprepared, he was there to admonish as well.

I certainly wasn't looking to leave CNI, but when I got an unexpected job offer to go work up in Fort Mill for literally twice the money, I dreaded making the call to Rick.

I stumbled my way through the call, explaining that I didn't want to leave but didn't think I could pass this chance by. 

He asked how much they were offering, and when I told him, he said, "Hell, PT, don't let the door hit your ass on the way out. You'd be crazy not to take it." He always gave you his honest opinion.

Over the years I've often found myself asking in different situations, "What would Rick do?" His advice, his jokes, his voice, his facial expressions, they're all ingrained in my mind.

When he stood up for Steve at our wedding, and when he met our son, I saw a different side of Rick. The kinder, gentler, grandfatherly Rick. No longer the boss, but still the Big Guy.

I called him for advice when I was eyeing whether to jump from McClatchy, where I'd worked for over a decade, to go edit the newspaper for the Catholic Diocese of Charlotte. I explained that it was less money but I was working such long hours that I never saw my baby son. McClatchy seemed to be going downhill fast, and the future didn't feel secure. 

"What should I do?" I asked.

He listened, then he reminded me of his test for any job: "PT, does the money outweigh the crap?" Then he said, "The Catholic Church has been around for 2,000 years. I don't think they're going anywhere."

I took the job.

The most important lesson I learned from Rick happened in Barnwell, one night in 1998 about 3 a.m.

I was tired of sleeping in the motel room in Winnsboro, where he'd put me as publisher a few weeks earlier. I wanted to sleep back home in Barnwell, in my own bed. So when I wrapped up work that night, I headed back on the all-too-familiar drive down I-77 and Highway 3.

I fell asleep at the wheel just past the Barnwell County line, waking up just in time to sideswipe the concrete wall of the bridge and flip my car a couple times. It landed upside down in the middle of the road. As I crawled out of the hole where the window used to be, I cut my elbow on some broken glass, but other than that I was OK. When the ambulance dropped me at the Barnwell ER, they asked me who they should call. The only family I had, I said. 

"Call Rick Bacon."

When he arrived and saw that I was all right, he gave me a hug and cracked a few jokes to make me laugh. Then he took out a set of keys.

"What're those for?" I asked.

"Well, you'll need a car for a while, don't you?"

"You're going to give me the keys to your car, after I was stupid enough to wreck my own car?"

"It's a piece of crap Buick. Have fun, Crash."

That was Rick. He never hesitated to help people in need, no matter what. No questions, no demands, no exceptions.

In his last message to me, his voice was unnaturally soft. But it was the same old Rick.

"Mrs. Guilfoyle, this is Rick Bacon. And I just wanted to tell you that's a heck of a pope you've got now. He gives me faith that maybe all religion isn't all totally crap. Just wanted you to know that. Have a good day."

I hesitated calling him back, and got his voicemail when I did call. I left a dumb, rambling message – not knowing what to say or what to do, knowing it must have gotten pretty bad for him if he was talking about God and religion without cracking a joke.

What I wanted to tell him is that he was a lot like Pope Francis, and not just about their weight. I imagined him interrupting the serious stuff I was trying to say, to joke about priests fondling young boys – "Huh, huh," he'd grunt in his worst pervert voice – or about wearing a cassock – "Do they wear any underwear under that dress?"

I wanted to tell Rick that soon after he was elected, Pope Francis wrote an exhortation that spurred a lengthy interview with an Italian Jesuit editor and it went global. The Pope, starting with that newspaper interview, has recast the enduring Gospel message in a whole new light, encouraging people think about letting God back into their lives, I'd say. Pope Francis wants all of us to refocus on what's most important in life, because it's not all about us, it's about how much God loves us, no matter what. 

"The headline called the pope 'A Big Heart Open to God,'" I'd tell him.

"You're just the same, Big Guy – except your headline would be 'A Big Heart Open to People.'"

I wish I had had the chance to tell him that, and to say, "I love you, Big Guy."

Blast from the past: The column we did NOT run about Rick Bacon leaving

When #RickBacon left us in Barnwell to go to one of CNI's new daily newspapers in Florida, I was both sad and mad. I wrote this column, but we did not run it because Dan Johnson, our editor, and maybe Rick, thought it might come across as me berating the community for not being thankful enough.
I do not understand that objection, since I WAS trying to berate the community.
But anyway, this is about Rick's cred as a journalist, and worth it now, I think.

They've been talking about calling it a roast. What's better for him, one might think? Pork roast. Let's turn the temperature up — baked ham.

Fried Bacon.

We're going to have a little get together to bid farewell to Rick Bacon, regional publisher of the five papers and the press plant that comprise the Barnwell Region of Community Newspapers, Inc. Rick's moving on to bigger things, taking over one of CNI's two new daily newspapers in Florida.

A roast would be perfect for Rick. It's in keeping with his personality. He loves to joke. The old Dean Martin roasts often had risqu_ humor, and Rick has been known to make the ladies in the office blush. Thanks to the nuns at St. Raymond's Elementary School, I'm a repressed  Bronx Irish Catholic boy, so on occasion, he's turned even my pale face red.

But a roast is a completely light affair.

I'm not in the mood for just jokes. Rick's going, and I don't think the community fully understands what Rick has done here with The People-Sentinel.

I think we need to have an Irish wake, instead. A roast is food and jokes at a celebration. A wake is better food, better jokes, songs, some wailing and screaming. The best ones will have a knock-down drag-out of a fight. An Irish wake is as fun and funny as a roast, but it has an ironic twist. Ironic because the reason for the "party" is gone.

Rick would tell folks he's just a marketing guy who came here with a focus on the advertising. Or he'd say, "I'm just an ignorant hillbilly," right before he was set to kill the college boys with their stupidity or lack of insight.

Rick made the newspapers in this region some of the best NEWSpapers in the state. If you ask him how, he'll say he hired good writers and a good editor to herd them. There's some truth to that. In the last four years, The People-Sentinel has been named the best large, and The Allendale County Citizen Leader was named the best small weekly newspapers in South Carolina. Rick's editors and reporters have pulled in crates of awards. The People-Sentinel was touted in a college journalism textbook. A textbook example of a good paper, literally.

Hiring people he says are journalists isn't the only thing he did, however. He indulged his journalists, and by by doing so, indulged the community, though the community doesn't know how much.

Here are some examples.

1) During the consideration of the regional hospital, we got the request for proposals and the proposal by the company that was going to come here. I suggested we run them intact, even though it would take up a lot of space.

Now, a full page newspaper ad costs about $600. Rick gave me multiple pages to run the proposals.

2) Our local high schools are afforded the opportunity to run a full page "newspaper" in The People-Sentinel each week, if the students choose to take it. Barnwell High has taken the most advantage of it. If any other newspaper in the country provides similar space, I'd imagine that it's done at charge. Barnwell High had more than 30 such pages last year, and is on pace to meet or beat that number this year. Williston-Elko and Blackville-Hilda High Schools did pages after the yearbook is completed. Jefferson Davis Academy wants in now. Allendale-Fairfax High School wants in.

We scan photos, provide some paper and a little technical advice, but we don't produce these pages. The students do. But this was Rick's idea, and what he's doing is giving away a piece of the newspaper that would make him money if ads were on it. It's an amazing bit of community service for which Rick has never gotten thanks or credit.

3) During the Bicentennial Year, we went all out. We usually have two color pics on our A fronts, maybe three on our community fronts. Color photos require extra time and effort, and cost an arm and a leg. The Bicentennial parade was featured on our Community Section front page with more than 30 color pictures. That many pictures on a weekly's page is rare. That many pics is unheard of. As good as that was, we beat it. We had a color Community front on the downtown the Fourth of July stuff, and a color Community page on the fireworks. I thought our Bicentennial coverage was extraordinary for any newspaper of any size, yet our coverage was barely mentioned, then quickly dismissed, at the Bicentennial Closing Ceremony.

4) Rick's most impressive thing, to me, was just letting me tell one story. I covered a murder trial that ended earlier than expected. The story would have lost its impact if we pieced it out over weeks. I stayed up 36 hours straight, and in the end, handed Rick three full pages of stories, complete with photos, detailing a murder, its effects on a family and on why the trial ended the way it did. It was a good story, worth telling, but I still thought Rick would say it was too much. But Rick gave me the space to tell it. He even let me go home and get a couple of hours rest before I had to come back and do the rest of the news section.

The thing was, he listened when we told him what we needed, but he never deferred to our judgment. It was always his decision.

Rick Bacon has given out color pages and full pages, even though it hit him in his wallet. It cost him a little, but it was always in the best interests of our readers. He's not just a marketer, and he's certainly not an ignorant hillbilly.

Rick Bacon is a journalist. It's the highest praise I know to give.

Barnwell is losing a talented journalist.

Do you understand why I want this to be an Irish wake?