The family and friends of Robert and Nancy Giles celebrated the lives of this wonderful couple on May 25 in Traverse City and it was an amazing experience.
The program was intended to evoke the sterling characters and unique traits of these two, and that goal was certainly accomplished. It was an honor to be there in a room filled with music, poetry, loving memories and sunlight sparkling through the tall windows at Kirkbride Hall.
It brought back the memory of the first time I met Bob. He was the executive editor of The Detroit News.
The News just so happened to be my hometown paper and we were loyal subscribers. They even printed a poem I had written at the age of 7. My father clipped it out and carried it around in his wallet.
Bob wasn’t the executive editor then, but he became the executive editor and The News was my newspaper. (All loyal subscribers should understand this important relationship: If you support the newspaper, it belongs to you. That’s why I say “my” newspaper.) So the fact that he was the executive editor of this particular newspaper made him especially important in my eyes.
So here’s Bob Giles, the executive editor of “my” newspaper. I never told him this but, at that time, I was totally intimidated by him. I was attending a seminar for journalists. I was a rookie who didn’t know much. Bob was the voice of authority and experience, speaking at a professional event with a big, thick, brown binder in his hands. I was lucky enough to be in the audience.
I was impressed by what he had said that day, so I steeled myself to approach him after the session, introduced myself and asked him where I could get a copy of the material he had presented. He looked at me for a moment and held out the binder. “Here,” he said. “I’m not supposed to do this, but you can have it.”
I still have that binder. He ended up writing a 742-page book on the subject: “Newsroom Management: A Guide to Theory and Practice.” I have that book, too. And I went into newsroom management so his teaching came in handy, to say the least.
How fortuitous that I connected with him again here, in Traverse City, much later. He had not changed. He was still the same erudite professional who wanted to share what he knew to help others.
All this and more was part of that May celebration at Kirkbride Hall, which ended with recessional music played by The Backroom Gang. The final song? “When the Saints Go Marching In.” That spirited rendition celebrating two lives well-lived brought all the pieces of the program together in some joyous jazz. What an impact it had on the people there.
At the end of the service, I stood at the back of the room and drank in the ambiance of the place when I overheard the word “newsroom.” Two men standing nearby were talking. I thought of Bob watching from some celestial newsroom above. He always was a source of encouragement and his memory certainly was for me at that moment.
I walked over to them and said, “I just heard the word ‘newsroom,’ did either of you work in a newsroom?” They both blinked, surprised by the question, then confirmed that, yes, they had. I had my business cards handy.
I told them we’re looking for reporters at the Record-Eagle.
Two weeks later, one of them sent me a message, pitching a possible reporting candidate.
If Bob was looking down at that moment, I’ll bet he was smiling.