Newspaper people – including former journalists, of which there are many these days – tend to stay a tight-knit group who pride themselves on family-like bonds.
That’s especially true of those lucky enough to be part of the Beacon-News newsroom over the last four decades. And there’s no doubt the reason for that strong emotional connection revolves around one amazing patriarchal member.
That’s why our family is crying right now.
On Wednesday we learned that John Russell, the city editor who shaped the lives of countless journalists in his 38 years with the Beacon, died unexpectedly at age 72 in his home in Chicago.
Many of us – writers, editors, photographers, designers – will quickly proclaim no one made more of an impact on their careers than JR, who guided them not only to become better journalists but better human beings.
Former Beacon-News reporter Matthew DeFour, for example, dedicated his 2020 Wisconsin Watchdog of the Year Award to John, and used a large part of his acceptance speech to talk about why his first editor here in Aurora played such a significant role in his 16-year career at the Wisconsin State Journal.
Matt, who is now bureau chief of Wisconsin Watch, the state’s highly-respected investigative journalism center and a teacher at University of Wisconsin-Madison, described John as having “an almost mythical quality about him … the ultimate editor’s editor” who was always the first in the newsroom each morning and the last to leave each night.
“I don’t care if you’re the business reporter,” he recalled his former boss yelling. “I don’t care if you’re the queen of England. Get out to that murder scene and find out what the hell is going on … and go rewrite your god damn lead, goddamnit!”
Matt likened JR to a combination of Lou Grant, Andy Rooney and Lewis Black, the kind of editor “who stayed glued to the newsroom police scanner, even after the reporters had taken refuge in the tornado share shelter.” The kind who would yell at photographers for taking “artsy fartsy pictures through side-view mirrors.” Who challenged reporters to make the extra phone calls and ask the second follow-up questions.
I don’t have room to share all the compelling tributes I’ve received or read from the Beacon “family.” But they all paint a consistent portrait of John as the consummate mentor, friend, human being and most of all, newsman.
“If John Russell was defined by his profession, it can also be said that the profession – when practiced at its best – is defined by John,” insisted former Beacon-News Publisher Rick Nagel, who is now retired after eight years as editor of the Kane County Connects website and newsletter.
“To me, John represents everything good about journalism. Integrity. Truth. Fairness. Passion. Grit. Determination,” continued Rick. “He never shied from telling truth to power and always, always championed and defended those who were not among the powerful. He made reporters get out there, get the news, get it fast and get it right.”
Stephanie Lulay, co-founder and executive editor of Block Club Chicago, a nationally-recognized non-profit and subscription-based online news services reporting local and neighborhood news, recalls that, in her 4½ years at the Beacon, she heard his “goddamnit” more times than she could count. And while “each one hurt,” it would also instill a vital lesson.
“John believed in a newspaper’s power to inform, connect, investigate and inspire,” she said. “And he leaves a legacy of talented journalists and change-makers who came up the old school way … who champion the power of the press in his memory. I couldn’t be more proud to be one of them.”
Proud. It was a word many used to express their time in John’s newsroom.
Former reporter Matt Hanley, who stepped into the role of city editor when JR was recovering from heart surgery and now is communications coordinator for Glen Ellyn School District 89, reminded me that John had no patience for lazy reporting, no space for unnecessary words, no interest in stories that did not try to make an impact.
“To allow those things to go into print would have cheated the community and the writer. His standard was his gift to us,” said Matt. “On the days when you wrote something that John was proud to have in the Beacon-News – when he would hold it up the next day and say “this was a damn good story” – that meant more than the things we traditionally think are important at a job. It was more valuable than a paycheck, it was better than an award.”
Dan Campana, now an author and communications consultant, said when he started at the Beacon, John “bluntly told me he didn’t necessarily like hiring reporters from other papers.” His reason? They bring their bad habits and baggage with them.
“I knew right there he was challenging me to raise my game to the level he expected for his newsroom,” recalled Dan.
JR was indeed hard-driving in his quest for excellence, and his commands, often laced with a few expletives, would send us all hopping. Yet – and this is what truly set him apart – he was, hands down, the most beloved figure in the newsroom.
Even in a profession that tends to attract intelligent and out-sized characters, he stood out, not just because of the four-letter words he’d spew or the fiery red hair that often matched his Irish face, but because underneath all that huff and puff, he was a compassionate, kind Teddy Bear, who, as so many former reporters pointed out, spent precious time patiently going over their work, even when on deadline.
Former Beacon-News and now Chicago Tribune visual editor Marianne Mather had invited JR next week to tour the Trib at its Freedom Center home, but her ulterior motive, she admitted, was “to get him in front of our young writing staff” because “he was the best at molding and inspiring young journalists.”
Even though she was a photographer, “I learned so much by watching him make the small and big daily decisions in the life of a paper. He taught us all so much, I only hope we gave back to him in some way. I wish I could hear him yelling my name in frustration one more time.”
As would we all.
Current Beacon-News reporter Steve Lord, who worked with JR his entire career, told he it seems odd to think that, while John Russell “was a mentor, a role model, a fine boss and a good friend, some of my fondest memories of him are when he was yelling at me to do something.
“OK, yelling might be a bit strong. But stressing, shall we say, strongly, that I do something,” he said. “John was that way … the classic tough on the outside, softer on the inside. He cared. He cared about getting things done. He cared about his newspaper, about his family, about his work family and about the community he worked in.”
JR was the city editor who wanted to “save the world.”
In fact, if potential hires answered with anything close to those three words when John asked during interviews why they went into journalism, they were certain to get an invitation to join his staff.
Former Beacon reporter Heather Gillers, now a government finance writer for the Wall Street Journal, flat out confessed that she wouldn’t be a journalist if not for John, who taught her many kind but firm lessons – including how to own up to mistakes – “that informed so much of my behavior” personally as well as professionally.
“I remember John grousing that we (the reporters) only wanted to write stories about people who couldn’t afford to buy the paper. But like all his grousing, it was said with so much love. He was proud of us.”
Indeed, he was.
We all have endearing, entertaining JR stories. (I tried to refuse a move from features to assistant city editor early in my Beacon career because, as I told then-Managing Editor Mike Chapin, “I’m scared of John Russell”). But as treasured as he was by all who worked with him, John returned those feelings. As his son Mike noted, “He was an amazing father. But after Mom, the newsroom was the most important thing in his life … he carried it with him until the day he died.”
There is no doubt The Beacon News was lucky to have John Russell his entire news career – a career that began when he was a cub reporter and came to an abrupt end in 2013 when Sun-Times bean counters, who didn’t give a damn about the heart and soul of this high-performing, award-winning newspaper in the second largest city in the state, added his name to a long list of layoffs.
A big party was thrown for him, attended by Aurora leaders that included then Mayor Tom Weisner, who proclaimed March 22, 2013, as “John Russell Day,” along with an army of his current and former colleagues who never forgave corporate America for what it did to journalism and journalists.
The Beacon’s loss, it turned out, was the city’s gain. John was hired as its first grant writer in 2013 and, no surprise here, became so valuable – he helped bring in $17.8 million in grant money – that he got another party and mayoral proclamation when he retired at the end of 2021.
John’s years at the Beacon and with the city “personified dedication and excellence,” added Mayor Richard Irvin, who noted JR’s commitment to working on behalf of the residents of Aurora “always went above and beyond.”
He was, the mayor concluded, “a class act.”
“There’s no question he loved this community,” agreed former Aurora Deputy Mayor Chuck Nelson, who recalled how John went out of his way to find grants for veterans and to protect the environment, but also how his reporters’ stories, while sometimes hard on City Hall, were “always fair and straight.”
Make no mistake, above all else, John Russell was a “newsman’s newsman,” who lost so much when he was forced out of this profession. He lost far more, however, when Kathy, his beloved wife and best friend of 46 years, died of COVID-19 in 2020.
After he sold their home near East Aurora High School, JR moved to Los Angeles to be closer to his son Mike. But he never stopped reading the Beacon. Nor did he stop sending story ideas to the few of us who were left to try and carry on this paper’s legacy.
JR was able to spend precious time with his youngest son – he had just returned from a week-long tour of California with Mike – but missed his Midwest roots. He moved back in December, rented an apartment in Chicago to be near twin sons Jay and Ted, and looked forward to reconnecting more often with his Beacon family, as well.
Little did we know his final deadline was so close.
At a recent lunch with him, the topic came up about what career we would have enjoyed had we not become journalists. I remember JR’s matter-of-fact gaze, as if the question did not even warrant a discussion. “I never wanted to be anything but a city editor,” he said.
Then he added, “I still only want to be a city editor.”
A memorial will be held for John Russell from 4 to 7 p.m. March 9 at Society 57 in downtown Aurora, appropriately, right across River Street from the Aurora Public Library, which was the former site of John’s favorite newspaper.
I guess it’s fitting that the last conversation I had with JR, a few days before his death, was about yet another story idea he wanted to pass on to me. And yes, I assure you it was all about helping to save the world.
As Matt Hanley pointed out, “John didn’t have many bylines in the paper, so it’s quite possible most people don’t realize the impact he had on sharing and understanding the story of this community he cared so deeply about.
“It was immense,” Matt insisted. “One of the lights of the city of Aurora went out this week. We are fortunate that he illuminated so many others.”
Denise Crosby , 2024-02-24 19:16:13
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