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FIVE YEARS AGO, this editorial page moved rightward. As the party whose hand was on the rudder, I can attest that the course change was not without chop.
A national journalism review, detecting an affront to the natural progression of the universe, deemed the event newsworthy--the professional equivalent of the tabloid's "Human mom gives birth to ape boy!" "(10-inch tail astounds docs!)" A man wrote in to inquire if the new editor, an alumnus of the "Christian right" Heritage Foundation (where the suspect's immediate bosses were named Berkowitz and Rubin), would presently advocate the stoning of sinners. A woman oft-described as "liberal" publicly impugned my fitness for the job based upon the lowliness of my alma mater, which, it is true, at least once educated the son of a truck driver.
And then there was Larry Evans, whose position I was taking. "Be prepared for a cold reception," a friend said. "And if you don't get one, really be careful--you'll get it in the back." This warning, rational enough in light of what I knew of human nature (see above), was among the most unnecessary advice anyone ever received.
A week before I officially started, I visited Larry's office for a familiarization session. Larry shook hands and proceeded to brief me in his cradle-rocking low hum of a voice on the duties of the job--pulling columns off the wire, editing the columns, logging and editing letters, fielding telephone calls from readers and idea pushers, overseeing and checking off on page proofs, and, oh yes, writing meticulously researched, intellectually compelling, and artfully crafted editorials in the time that remained (0:01.58). "After a while," Larry said, "you'll get into a rhythm."
Larry, at someone else's direction, was turning over an editorial page he had tended and developed for 10 years to a guy who had just parachuted in from the Vast Right-wing Conspiracy, and he was doing this as carefully, civilly, and graciously as an avid fisherman might pass a prize fly rod to a blood relative, slowly explaining how it worked and expressing welcome confidence in the new owner's ability to use it to the sure grief of assorted speckled trout.
This was, is, Larry Evans--a man without discernible meanness, as pettiness-free as any specimen Adam's brood is likely to produce.
During these past five years, from his desk as a regional columnist, Larry has generously offered his ideas and courteously listened to my twaddle. We have compared notes on various intramural issues, and he has freely answered sensitive questions--how does an editorial-page editor best deal with a publisher? how much work should be delegated? is it really against the law to shoot your cartoonist? dang, it is?
We've found a number of areas of agreement (outside of short-sighted laws governing the disposition of cartoonists), but, agree or not, I also know this about Larry--he has integrity. He writes as honestly as anyone I've read, and as tenaciously. Much of his commentary of the last 15 years has been a vital Long Argument against the multifaceted detriments to land, community, and soul of rapid, random growth.
I think of Larry as our area's lover-prophet, adoring the unique gifts that nature and generations of good people have given us, foreseeing their disappearance unless we alter our ways.
Larry and I are also fellow wayfarers on the road to geezerdom, swapping insights on growing-growing-grown! daughters and various uncomfortable procedures that the medical arts reserve for over-50 males. We sometimes chat at the YMCA, where on stationary bike and treadmill we labor heroically to protect an imperiled toy-boy status.
Two final points about Larry, who's off to Sarasota and a new career stage.
First, any success the opinion pages today enjoy in engaging the community in spirited debate owes hugely to the editorship of my predecessors. Larry set up the soapbox, rolled out the red carpet, and invited everyone who was game to step up and say his or her piece. Intellectually curious enough to listen to good cases, Larry is intellectually brave enough to change his view.
Second, the prophesying was not in vain. Local governments have smartened up their growth policies, and part of the reason is Larry's success in crystallizing the vague dread so many here have that their quality of life is under the gun. He's read, and he'll be missed. Not too much, of course--no more than Lee missed Jackson.
So Godspeed to Florida, Mr. Evans. (And, say--when is that rhythm supposed to get here?)
PAUL AKERS is editor of the opinion pages of The Free Lance-Star.