The first week I worked at The Clarion-Ledger (in 1996 back before the “The” and the hyphen were laid off), a group of us went to the Thai House (when it was located in an old Howard Johnson’s restaurant building off McDowell Road in South Jackson.) As we ate Watt and Tim’s delicious Thai food, the paper’s popular columnist made a frustrated observation, “They can’t cut The Clarion-Ledger anymore.”
Of course Orley Hood was wrong. He was the second person laid off from the building as a tsunami of cuts began in 2008. On February 21, 2014, cancer took Orley from us after a very brave fight. I always suspected a broken heart played a role in his death too.
Dammit, I wish the man hadn’t been stolen from us so soon. I always wanted to read an Orley Hood novel or at least a memoir. And when a collection of his sports columnsis published, I will buy one the first day. I miss his stories about his boys, his love of M.A., William Styron, Willie Morris and his dog. I miss the lunches at the Thai House. (Hell, I miss the Thai House.)
I look back on my 22-year-career at the now Clarion Ledger with many found memories. Not because of the work I produced there, but because of the people I had the honor of working with. David Hampton, Bill Hunsberger, Sid Salter, Rick Cleveland, Rusty Hampton, Bobby Cleveland, Mike Knobler, Keith Warren, Chris Todd, Billy Watkins, Joe White, Jim Ewing, Earnest Hart, Debbie Skipper, Barbara Gauntt, Orley just to name a few — It’s hard to describe to those who weren’t there, but it was special. I watched my coworkers laugh, work insane hours, fight, argue and get the paper out every single day. For me, seeing their passion made me want to get better every single day. And one thing is absolutely true:
We were a family. (That’s why the lame insult, “The Glarion Liar” always annoyed me. They weren’t taking a shot at a paper. They were taking a cheap shot at my family)
The rounds and rounds of layoffs and buyouts were like funerals. Watching your friends walk out meant that our family was torn apart. That’s what made Orley’s actual funeral so hard. We looked around the room at each other, seeing a few more gray hairs and feeling a sense of loss that I can’t describe here. While I understand the realities of the newspaper industry (do I ever), one thing I don’t think the beancounters ever got was that the people were what made the product. Like I said, it is hard to explain.
When I walked out of the building in December for a new job at Mississippi Today (to take better care of my actual family), I took one last tour around the building. I could hear my old friends’ voices echo in the now abandoned newsroom. When I stood in Orley’s empty office, I saw him doing a crossword while thinking of a column idea.
I missed the hell out him.
Today, I wish the new generation of writers at the Clarion Ledger well. They, too, are a family and I know their passion is like ours was “back in the day.” They are fighting against some strong headwinds. I wish them luck.
I can’t wait to see this new exhibit; it is so well deserved. But it will sting a little bit. Change and time moving forward does that sometimes.