Tom McEwen, 1923-2011

If the award of which Moddy speaks would be for the "most editing needed in a regular column," Mr. McEwen would no doubt get a run for his money from Sid Hartman in the Lifetime Achievement category. Have you ever seen what his raw copy looked like?

 

For those interested, services are 2 p.m. Friday at St. Lawrence Catholic Church in Tampa ... appropriately, near the stadium. The current over/under on attendance is 1,000 ... indeed, maybe they should have it IN the stadium.

 

Tom would go out of his way to make everyone in the department feel special, even a 22-year-old copy editor/designer like me - straight out of college and not exactly in what you would call a high-profile position.

That was his gift. Hate to sound cliche, but the sports department was like a family. I never have - and surely never will - work in an atmosphere that was as close-knit, with folks who took as much pride in what we were doing. And Tom was the reason. Little things, like taking the time to acknowledge you by slamming the back of your chair with his briefcase, a few minutes after chatting with Steinbrenner. Or realizing whatever the department needed, it got because Tom virtually had the publisher in his hip pocket.

I once got the same initiation of giving McEwen a first-read, and it made my head spin. At first I was afraid of touching his copy, as if I were actually worthy of changing anything the man had to say, but quickly realized how easy it was to earn his trust. All you had to do was care and do your best.

Anyone who worked the desk can relay stories of having to take his dictation on deadline, where he would start rattling off paragraph after paragraph literally off the top of his head - without giving you barely any time to breathe. Or how you knew he was the one calling in by his simple identification ("McEwen!").

I had the pleasure of working with him after his retirement, and relished every chance to chat with him and pick his brain. As larger-than-life as he was, he still was more humble than anyone of his stature could possibly be.

He'll be missed by people who had the pleasure of knowing him, but it's Tampa that will really suffer by no longer having him here to represent their best interests.

Babaloo, Tom, and rest in peace.

 

Tom always trusted his desk guys to catch his mistakes. We weren't always 100 percent successful, but he understood what the desk was up against and never forgot to say thanks. I actually enjoyed taking dictation over the phone from him, because I could get the names right as I typed. He was an ideas guy who was well-connected, and he left it to us deskers to clean up his copy.

“Treat your desk well,” he used to say at our annual meeting of the Tribune sports staff. “They work hard and they catch a lot of things under deadline pressure. Make us look good. Be thankful.”

He meant that, too. His telephone calls always ended the same way: “You know how I write and you know what to do. I trust you and I thank you.”

So yeah, there were times when we pulled our hair out -- like correcting, "Caoch Krzyzewski," when he got the last name right but botched "Coach" -- but nobody worked harder and certainly nobody in Florida was more prolific. Six columns a week during his heyday, plus a "Hey, Tom!" letters to the sports editor piece every Sunday.

His copy was challenging, but it also made you scrutinize every word and punctuation mark and double-check (and triple-check) every fact. I know you're supposed to do that anyway, but his stuff made you focus that much harder. And that helped when I read other writers, too.

Thanks, Tom. It was a privilege. Babaloo, indeed.