Arkansas Online

Greenberg’s legacy

The Commercial,

Editor,

I worked with Paul Greenberg for a decade at The Commercial, and shaped my initial view of him through my mentor on the copy desk, Connie Elkins. She referred to his glass-fronted office as his Ivory Tower, from which he would sometimes emerge to seek her input or bounce some idea off her.

Connie said he used her as his “LCD” (lowest common denominator): If Connie understood what he meant, so would his average reader. Though she would say it in a self-deprecating way, I think she took quiet pride in that.

(Connie had started at the paper in the ’40s and progressed through numerous jobs in the newsroom; she, too, later headed north.)

Hung on a wall in a hall leading to the newsroom were three gold-plated front-page proofs from The Commercial: the moon landing, the Kennedy assassination (with two paragraphs transposed; Connie said the teletype bells went crazy that day); and a smiling, pudgy Paul on winning a Pulitzer.

With every election, a steady parade of politicians made their way to the Ivory Tower. Usually they came alone, maybe in twos, but I remember one day when three pooled their resources for the trip: Jim Guy Tucker reminded me of my brother, then Cabot band director; a guy named White later took a turn as governor; and there was a tall fellow stumping for A.G. said his name was Clinton.

Paul’s support was a double-edged sword. For some, it assured success, for others, defeat; I’m sure a few voters recalled the columns that had landed him a Pulitzer (he was going against the grain with those.)

Paul’s columns didn’t go through the copy desk, but the syndicated columns he chose to run did. I think he (and William F. Buckley Jr.) might be why there was an Oxford Unabridged on a stand in the newsroom. He worked his own schedule, and frequently his office was the last light burning when everybody else went home.

He borrowed gags from me twice, the first when I worked on the Pine Cone, the high school newspaper, and years later a witticism I had posted on a newsroom bulletin board. (Neither time did he give me credit, though.)

When the new owners bought the paper, Paul convinced them to quit listing cause of death in obits, saying it was an invasion of privacy. I disagreed then, and still do. People are curious, and listing a cause of death can save survivors the pain of repeatedly relating final moments, and can counter inaccurate rumors. (Nowadays, that “privacy” can even extend to announcing a death, I’ve found.)

My mother always told me that anything worth doing is worth doing right. Connie added that there is no such thing as a small mistake. Paul showed me the value of acquiring and maintaining a variegated vocabulary, and knowing when not to use it.

The final chapter of Paul’s story is not yet writ. That will come when some scribe takes note of who he was and when, plus the immensity of what he accomplished, then pens a proper biography. (Are you listening, Daniel?)

D.H. RIDGWAY, PINE BLUFF

Opinion

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2021-05-08T07:00:00.0000000Z

2021-05-08T07:00:00.0000000Z

https://edition.arkansasonline.com/article/282583085884520

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