Bill Allen Will Be Missed in Muskoka Newspaper Ranks

BILL ALLEN WAS A GENTLEMAN IN A WICKEDLY STRESSFUL INDUSTRY

HE WAS THE ONLY ADVERTISING SALESMAN I LIKED -

I JUST THIS MOMENT FINISHED READING THE WEEKLY NEWS, THAT BRACEBRIDGE EXAMINER / GRAVENHURST BANNER, REGIONAL GENERAL MANAGER, BILL ALLEN, DIED THIS WEEK. WE FOLKS WITH PRINTER'S INK IN OUR VEINS, TAKE IT HARD WHEN ONE OF OUR NUMBER FALLS. HE WAS ONLY 61 YEARS OF AGE. MUCH OLDER IF YOU CONSIDER HOW MUCH WEIGHT HIS JOB PUT ON THOSE BROAD SHOULDERS. IT IS NO EASY TASK TO BE A NICE GUY, AND A GENERAL MANAGER, AT THE SAME TIME, IN THE SAME OFFICE. FROM EVERYTHING I KNEW OF THIS GENTLEMAN, HE WAS AMICABLE TO A FAULT, ALWAYS GAVE YOU THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, AND DIDN'T LIKE ANY WORK DAY THAT ENDED ON A BAD NOTE, OR AN UNFORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCE. AT LEAST THIS IS THE BILL ALLEN I KNEW, FROM MANY YEARS AGO. I HAVE FIFTY-FIFTY MEMORIES OF MY NEWSPAPER YEARS. FIFTY PERCENT GOOD, AND FIFTY PERCENT NOT SO GOOD. BILL WAS ON THE GOOD SIDE. HE KNEW THE PITFALLS OF THE BUSINESS, AND WAS TOUGH ENOUGH TO HAVE LASTED IN AN INDUSTRY WELL KNOWN FOR ITS HEAVY TOLL OF CASUALTIES. MANY HAVE HAD TO QUIT BECAUSE OF ITS INTENSITY. HE KNEW HOW TO SURVIVE AT IT, AND ACHIEVE HIS OBJECTIVES, AND THAT MEANT JOBS FOR OTHERS.

THE FAMILY OF THE LATE BILL ALLEN, PROBABLY NEVER HEARD OR READ MY NAME. WHY WOULD THEY? I'VE BEEN WRITING FOR OTHER PUBLICATIONS SINCE THE TURN OF THE PRESENT CENTURY, AROUND THE TIME "THE MUSKOKA ADVANCE," (THE PAPER DELIVERED ON SUNDAY) CEASED OPERATION. AND WHILE BILL AND I DIDN'T SPEND A GREAT DEAL OF TIME TOGETHER, WE BOTH GOT OUR START IN THE NEWSPAPER INDUSTRY AROUND THE SAME TIME. THE FRONT-PAGE ARTICLE IN THE BANNER, THIS MORNING, NOTED THAT BILL HAD JOINED A PAPER KNOWN AS "THE BEACON," IN 1980. I'M NOT SURE ABOUT THIS. MY FIRST REPORTING JOB WAS AT THE MUSKOKA LAKES-GEORGIAN BAY BEACON, IN JANUARY 1979, AND I REMEMBER BILL COMING ON BOARD THE PAPER, WHEN THE DECISION WAS MADE BY MUSKOKA PUBLICATIONS, TO MOVE THE OPERATION FROM THE VILLAGE OF MACTIER, WHERE I HAD MY OFFICE, TO PARRY SOUND, TO CHALLENGE THE HEAVILY IMBEDDED, HISTORIC NORTH STAR. BY THIS TIME I WAS THE NEWS EDITOR OF THE HERALD-GAZETTE, WHICH WAS PAST 1980 I BELIEVE. POINT IS, I GO BACK A LONG WAY WITH BILL ALLEN IN THE MUSKOKA PUBLICATIONS STRING OF NEWSPAPERS. HE WAS THE ONLY ADVERTISING STAFF MEMBER I GOT ALONG WITH, BECAUSE HE NEVER APPROACHED ME WITHOUT AN OUTSTRETCHED HAND. MAYBE TO TEST WHAT KIND OF MOOD I WAS IN……OR IF I WAS JUST HUNG-OVER, AS I WAS OFTEN IN THOSE HALCYON DAYS. MOST REPORTERS THEN LIVED LIKE PAUL RIMSTEAD, OF THE TORONTO SUN. WE LIVED HARD AND ARGUED BIG. MOST SALES-PEOPLE USED TO SEND NOTES ON THE END OF A LONG STICK, SO THEY WOULDN'T GET HIT BY FLYING NOTEPADS. IF HE HAD A REQUEST, FOR SOME FEATURE STORY OR OTHER, I WOULD MAKE SURE IT GOT DONE. IF IT WAS ANYBODY ELSE, BY JESUS, I'D START SCREAMING LIKE A BANSHEE ON A MOONLIT NIGHT.

The reason Bill and I never became best buddies, was because I had a dreadful track record, getting along with advertising managers. Almost every day, as editor, I found reason to tangle with someone from advertising, who felt the necessity to borrow my reporters, or impose on me to write a story, or take a photograph, of some business they needed to coax into a long-term advertising contract. The advertising staff, always seemed to be able to find me when I tried to hide. Accounting clerks would rat me out. It would always be on a busy press day, that they would decide to impose on my editorial space, to slip in either an ad they just got, or a fluff story about a new gift shop opening God knows where. All our reporters used to hate hearing the light patter of their footsteps, coming up to our offices, in the old Herald-Gazette building, on Bracebridge's Dominion Street, because they always had a favor to ask. In the news department, we hated to be asked any favor by someone in advertising. We were already stressed trying to fill in the white space of the weekly paper, with hard news and spot-news photographs. We just didn't have the will to do another feature story on the rigors of the local five and dime, or on the exciting new butter tarts, at the brand new cafe down the street. On our down days of the week, advertising folks were welcome in our newsroom. It used to drive us crazy, because when we were free to do promotional features, sales staff wouldn't come near us. Raymond Lee was another kind and gentlemanly newsy like us, and socially we were find. I knew his job was intolerably difficult, back in the recessionary days of the early 1980's, but we were just like oil and water at work. Unfortunately, Bill Allen got unfairly lumped into that category, and it wasn't his fault. He was a really good salesman in those days, and because of his prowess on the beat, it kept many of us employed. Without ads, there's no need for news staff.

Bill and I used to pass each other during advertising meetings, and even if I growled at him, it wasn't anything he did…..but rather, the stress we were all under to stay afloat. The writers you see, thought they were above everyone else. Bill never acted as if he was above anyone, and from what I've read in his brief biography this week, it seems he had remained a moderate character, in a sea of eccentrics, bold as brass writer-kind, and ever-buzzing advertising folks who must have reminded him of the hustle of his early days. I can tell you honestly, that of all the people in advertising we saw come and go, over the years at Muskoka Publications, Brant Scott, my ace reporter, (one of the finest writers I've ever known), and I, would have agreed on any day of the week, that Bill Allen was way too kind and gentle to be in such a ruthless business, that often shredded its own for the hell of it. Bill seemed to be able to navigate through one hornet's nest and then another, and if he got stung, he didn't cry out, but just carried on with the resolve that eventually stuff would work out.

Now I didn't have much to do with Bill since the late 1980's, when I walked away from two editorial jobs, to immerse in the antique trade, but from what I have heard from inside sources through those years, Bill was as steady a paddler, as he had always been. It's important to understand, especially for those who don't have printer's ink in their veins, (I'll explain later), that writers are, almost by necessity, ego-maniacs, with incredibly high levels of confidence…..sometimes, when we shouldn't have, for our own goods. Being a general manager, with the howling wolves in the editorial pool, is not an easy or desirable administrative situation, and as far as bumping heads, it can get like a full contact hockey game without benefit of a helmet. The editorial decisions that can sink a newspaper, or create a legal nightmare if a mistake is made, are unceasing through every work week, because news doesn't confine itself to a normal Monday to Friday routine. The stress of being editor of one weekly newspaper was enough for me. Having the weight of so many regional newspapers, and responsibility for a large number of support staff, and then continuing to invigorate the weekly "hunt and gather" of advertisers, to make it all work, few insiders would suggest he had an easy go of it…..in thirty years. Mr. Allen may have found it daunting, and complicated, but he soldiered on, traversing situations that would have caused others managers to wad-up the daily agenda, and walk out the door.

I can remember, in my own first year as a staff writer, talking to a senior pressman in our printing division, at The Herald-Gazette, and being told that I should watch out, or I'd be getting "printer's ink" in my blood. I remember stepping back quickly, thinking that there must be some kind of spray or residue coming off the flying press, pounding out some author's book. "What do you mean, printer's ink, and how is it going to get into my blood?" I asked the printer. "Don't you know it happens to everyone who works for a newspaper. You get exposed to printer's ink in the air….off the pages of the paper, sinking through your skin," he answered. I thought he must be a nutter, and just as I was turning to leave, another staffer stopped me and explained, that what it really meant, was the news business was highly contagious, and once you became imbedded, it would be almost impossible to remove yourself from the excitement, of seeing ideas and words making it to print, on those fresh new pages of brilliant white newsprint. I never forgot this advice. While l may have stepped back, in the 1990's, from day to day work at a newspaper office, I have only had a short half-year hiatus from the writing profession in thirty-five years. So if I was to say, Bill Allen had printer's ink in his veins, it was, to us news-folks, an unspoken honor…..something that kept us in the print industry, no matter how good or bad it was on our mind or body. It isn't a job that you walk away from, at the end of a work week, and feel liberated. There is an unspecified tithe attached. It is a lifestyle you adopt, risks aside, and you just accept that your week will always involve putting yet another paper "to bed;" the rigors, the joy and the stresses, from one press day to another.

I wanted to comment on Bill Allen because, as a reporter, feature editor and associate of the same papers for many years, I could never, ever have found this man objectionable, stubborn, hard to get along with, or reactionary, and of managers I'd worked with in print, this was an uncommon acceptance on my part. I would have liked to work with Bill because he was old school. I like that quality in a general manager.

I would like to extend heartfelt condolences to the Allen family. Bill and I weren't close, and I can't say that we were ever good friends, because on the job we were often at odds….as advertising and editorial are bound to be in conflict over content. But in the industry that we found ourselves employed, I always knew, that even though we were in different, and sometimes opposing departments of the newspaper, we all knew Bill as a kindred spirit. He knew where we were coming from, if in a meeting, editorial staff got in a huff about some new initiative. If we were put into his foursome, during a charity golf tournament, he was the one advertising staffer, we reporters didn't brutalize, or even once, toss his golf ball into the woods to get even. Bill might have even done it to us, but he couldn't keep a straight face, if he had played a practical joke. The newspaper industry in our region and beyond has lost a largely unsung, unassuming, champion of us all, who labored for so long, so steadfastly, to keep our communities informed. Thanks for you conscientiousness, in a truly difficult, and most often thankless industry. You will be missed!

DESPITE ADVERSITY AND ANTAGONISM, BEING EDITOR WAS WHAT I HAD ALWAYS WANTED

SOMETHING DREW ME TO THAT BEAT-UP OLD CARDBOARD BOX, ON AN UPPER SHELF. I MEAN IT WAS JUST SIMPLE, BROWN, SOMEWHAT ASKEW BOX, THAT MAY HAVE HELD A DOZEN "OLYMPIC" COMMEMORATIVE DRINKING GLASSES, OR A SHORT LENGTH OF GARDEN HOSE. MAYBE SOME PET SUPPLIES, ODD DISHES, OR SOME USED DOOR HARDWARE. IT WAS IN THE MIDZONE OF THE GRAVENHURST RE-STORE, AND WELL, IT COULD HAVE HAD ANYTHING IN IT THAT YOU COULD PUT A PRICE ON. BUT SEEING AS I'M NOSEY AND AN ANTIQUE DEALER, WHO LOOKS IN ALL STRANGE AND OFF-KILTER CARDBOARD BOXES, I PULLED THIS ONE OFF THE SHELF TO HAVE A GANDER.

THE NOTE ON ONE FLAP OF THE BOX, NOTED THAT THE IRON LETTERS I FOUND INSIDE, WERE FROM A DOMINION STREET BUSINESS IN BRACEBRIDGE, SPECIFICALLY "NUMBER 27." I STARED AT THAT PENNED INSCRIPTION FOR FIVE MINUTES, BEFORE I STARTED TO EXAMINE THE BIG IRON LETTERS MORE CLOSELY. THEY HAD A DISTINCTIVE OLD ENGLISH DESIGN. I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THIS BUILDING, AND THESE LETTERS SURE LOOKED FAMILIAR. THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN, MY CHIN HIT HARD AT MY CHEST, AND I BLURTED-OUT MY WIFE'S NAME, AS IF ASKING FOR HELP AFTER FALLING DOWN SOME DEEP, DARK WELL, WHERE NO WELL WAS SUPPOSED TO EXIST. AS SOON AS SUZANNE LOOKED AT THE WRITING ON THE LID, SHE SAID, "THOSE ARE THE HERALD-GAZETTE LETTERS." TOOK THE WORDS OUT OF MY MOUTH…..AND THE BOX. WE BOTH JUST STOOD THERE STARING AT THESE IRON LETTERS, WONDERING WHAT TWIST OF FATE HAD BROUGHT US TOGETHER AGAIN. IT WAS A MOST INCREDIBLE, PROVIDENTIAL ACT, THAT RE-UNITED US AFTER ALL THESE YEARS.

THE DAY I TOOK MY FIRST RESUME INTO THE HERALD-GAZETTE OFFICE, CIRCA 1977, AND HANDED IT OVER TO NORMAN TANNER, FILLING-IN AT THE FRONT DESK, (A WONDERFUL ENGLISHMAN, BY THE WAY, WHO BECAME MY UNOFFICIAL EDITOR), I LEFT THE BUILDING AND RECALL TOUCHING THOSE (OUTSIDE) WALL-MOUNTED LETTERS……AS A SYMBOLIC GESTURE, TO VEHEMENTLY REMIND, THAT "WE'LL BE SEEING A LOT OF ONE ANOTHER SOON." IN THE LATE 1970'S, WHEN I WAS HIRED BY MUSKOKA PUBLICATIONS, WHICH OPERATED THE HERALD-GAZETTE, I WAS BEYOND ECSTATIC. WHEN I BECAME THE NEWS EDITOR OF THE HERALD-GAZETTE, I TOUCHED THOSE LETTERS, ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING, TWICE A DAY FOR GOOD LUCK. WHEN I LEFT MY NEWSPAPER CAREER BEHIND, IN 1989, MY LAST TRIP OUT THAT DOOR, FOLLOWED BY A NAGGING AND ANNOYING ASSOCIATE EDITOR, I PAUSED IN THE MIDDLE OF A DISAGREEMENT OVER PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY, TO TOUCH THE LETTERS FOR WHAT I KNEW WAS GOING TO BE THE LAST TIME. I DIDN'T LEAVE WITH THE GOOD FEELING I HAD STARTED, BUT I AM NOT MUCH FOR CAPITULATION ANYWAY, WITHOUT A LITTLE HALE AND HARDY HECKLING. I'M SORRY THOSE LETTERS HAD TO HEAR THAT LAST TIRADE. SO I WAS ASTONISHED TO BE HOLDING THESE OLD IRON LETTERS IN MY HANDS. WE COULD MAKE AMENDS FOR TIME APART. YUP, I BOUGHT THEM. I WON'T BE ABLE TO OPEN A NEWSPAPER BY THE SAME NAME, BUT I CAN LOOK AT THEM NOW AND AGAIN, AND WELL, REMINISCE.

THE RECENT PASSING OF MY FORMER COLLEAGUE, BILL ALLEN, GAVE ME REASON TO REMINISCE, AND THERE'S NO ONE TO TALK TO HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW. SUZANNE KNOWS THAT WHEN I WAX-NOSTALGIC, IT COULD BE A SEVERAL HOUR "CONVERSATIONAL"……..PART DISCUSSION AND PART CONFESSIONAL, ABOUT HOW MUCH I STILL MISS THOSE YEARS, AND THE WONDERFUL FOLKS I HAD A CHANCE TO WORK WITH. NORMAN TANNER WAS ONE OF THE FIRST FRIENDS I MADE AT THE PAPER. HE WAS A BRILLIANT SPELLER AND HIS KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD GRAMMAR WAS PERFECT FOR A FLEDGLING EDITOR…..WHO WOULDN'T ASK FOR HELP, BUT COULDN'T TURN AWAY ADVICE, IF IT CAME IN THE POSITIVE WAY, NORM ALWAYS APPROACHED HIS PROOF-READING. WHEN HE WASN'T TAKING PRINTING ORDERS, AND PROCESSING ACCOUNTS FOR THE PRINT SHOP, HE WORKED WITH TYPESETTER, IDA MIDDELSTADT ON PROOF READING ASSIGNMENTS. IF HE WAS READING SOMETHING I'D WRITTEN, HE'D WAVE ME OVER THE NEXT TIME I AMBLED DOWN TO THE COFFEE MACHINE. NO WRITER ON STAFF, INCLUDING ASSOCIATE BOB BOYER, OBJECTED TO NORMAN HAVING A "GO" AT EDITORIAL STRUCTURE, AND TO FERRET-OUT SPELLING MISTAKES. HE SAVED MY BACON ON HUNDREDS OF OCCASIONS, WHEN HE CAUGHT A GLARING ERROR, AND BROUGHT IT TO MY ATTENTION…..IN ONLY THE MOST POLITE WAY OF COURSE. I WORKED WITH A LOT OF NEAT FOLKS THAT WAY, WHO I GOT TO KNOW AT THE PLACE I WANTED TO WORK.

Although I've noted this in previously blogs, I had the privilege of working with some very talented newspaper folks, including Bill Allen. Writers like Brant Scott, who was working on Parliament Hill, the last time we exchanged emails, Scott McClellan who was working in Australia the last time I heard from him…..who were both exceptional talents as news and feature writers. I've worked with many fine photographers, during my time with the local press, including master photographers like John Black, Tim DuVernet and Harold Wright, who were so amazingly patient with my lackluster skills with a camera. This is only to name a few, of the many co-workers who made life so interesting, week to week, as editor of The Herald-Gazette. Iron letters in a box are one thing. So many memories bouncing about, recalling the excitement and vibrancy of those years, still can't be calmed by relics of once. I'd like to slip back through that door, as if the next day, to the one in the fall of 1989, when I commenced a self-imposed exile from what I had known and loved as a young writer.

The reason Suzanne supported my decision, was because she saw a growing disenchantment in me, with the new way the paper was being handled, from what I had knowN previous to this. I was bringing home more anger each night, and cutting the lawn six times a week to expend nervous energy. She knew that I wasn't handling the job well at all, and pushed me as hard as she could, into the antique business as a diversion. When I was down in the dumps, because I wasn't getting published, as I wanted, she told me to stop whining, and start writing. My writing hiatus was about six months in duration, and it was Suzanne who handed me a copy of Stephen Leacock's "Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town," one of my favorites, and suggested I find a way to write about Muskoka as Leacock wrote about Mariposa…..Orillia. It was the little nudge to get back to my life as a writer, and it spawned "Historic Sketches of Bracebridge," a column that I gave to Muskoka Publications, for the Muskoka Advance, free of charge. Best decision my wife ever made for me, and that column has morphed into dozens of other columns and even this blog today. I'm still being published and feel a part of the news enterprise of our region, but I'm not sitting in an office where the stresses run free. I'm not inclined to yell at any one around here…..because with the exception of the cats, that might be startled if I did shout, I work absolutely alone with only the sound of Mozart at my back, and a muse dancing in my mind.

I don't regret my years in the print media. They are forever etched onto my soul. My only regret, is that I stayed too long, struggling and being unresolved, something that has never again been a problem. But, it was still a highlight of my years as a writer, to say, "Yes, I am the Editor of The Herald-Gazette," and "I will write a story about you, whether you like it or not." Ah, good times.

RICHARD KARON BIOGRAPHY IS ON SCHEDULE FOR MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 16TH - VIDEO TRIBUTE NEARING COMPLETION

ON THE WEEKEND, OUR FAMILY TOOK A DRIVE AROUND THE TOWNSHIP OF LAKE OF BAYS, A BEAUTIFUL LAKELAND, WITHIN OUR DISTRICT MUNICIPALITY, AND WE STOPPED OUT OF RESPECT, AT THE SITE OF RICHARD KARON'S FORMER STUDIO, ON HIGHWAY 117, NEAR BAYSVILLE……AND VISITED SOME OF THE VANTAGE POINTS, THE MUSKOKA ARTIST FREQUENTED TO SKETCH. SON ROBERT, WHO IS WORKING ON THE SHORT VIDEO TRIBUTE TO THE LATE ARTIST, BROUGHT HIS CAMERA, AND WE TOOK SOME LANDSCAPE VIDEO OF THE BAYSVILLE DAM, AND THE RIVER SCENE, AS WELL AS CAPTURING SOME OF THE WOODLANDS THAT HAD ALWAYS INSPIRED THE POLISH-CANADIAN PAINTER. ROBERT HAS BEEN WORKING FOR THE PAST THREE WEEKS ON THE MUSICAL COMPONENT OF THE VIDEO, FEATURING HIS GUITAR COMPOSITION, AND SINGER DANI O'CONNOR'S ANGELIC VOICE, WITH IMAGES OF PAINTINGS WE HAVE BEEN SENT BY THE KIND OWNERS OF HIS ORIGINAL ART, IT WILL BE A MOVING PART OF THE BIOGRAPHY…….THE WRITTEN PORTION TO BE PUBLISHED INITIALLY ON THIS BLOG-SITE. HOPE YOU CAN JOIN US ON THE 16TH, AT 8:30 P.M.