Thirty years ago, a fateful decision

Thirty years ago on the evening of Nov. 2, I made a fateful decision: I would stand beside a reporter who had uncovered a politician's corrupt ways only to find the publisher would refuse to run the story. He quit. I did the same. We would stand on the principle that the public must know the truth. We could not abide the fact that voters would go to the polls in a few weeks not knowing the truth behind the leading candidate, the incumbent, a near-shoo-in for the office. I could not continue to work for the newspaper that had made me its editor and then surreptitiously work to reveal the facts its owner had decided to keep hidden.

By the time our shift ended at midnight, the reporter and I had both submitted our resignations. We would not go along with concealing essential facts about a candidate for political office. Oddly enough, I've forgotten the politician's name, but I remember the malfeasance a dogged reporter had documented: He was running a sideline business on city time and using his city contacts for private gain. The lawyers reviewed the story and OK'd it, but the publisher — a woman rarely seen at the newspaper — said no.

Brian O'Neill, who is now a successful columnist at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, recently reminded me that this significant anniversary was coming up, and we exchanged a few e-mails. He reminded me that he was young and single and could go home to mom and dad when he quit. "My editor had a wife and three little kids, and he stood behind me all the way," he says he's told people many times. That's true, as foolish as it sounds, but I cannot remember once doubting my decision. My wife recalled that she was never worried. I was the sole breadwinner in this paycheck-to-paycheck family, but my confidence that I had done the right thing never wavered. To make ends meet (I had resigned voluntarily and was not eligible for unemployment), I took some temporary jobs at newspapers in North and South Carolina while I looked for a new job. I finally landed one as managing editor in Wilson, a town I had never visited before December 1979. I stayed at that paper for 29 years before being laid off last year.

In an e-mail, I told Brian that my snap decision that November night 30 years ago was "the most honorable decision I've made in my career." We stood up for truth, honor and integrity. Our vindication was not the surprise loss of the incumbent politician (area TV stations and word of mouth spread the story the newspaper would not print). "Our vindication was not subsequent success, though we both had some," I told Brian recently, "for truth is its own vindication and integrity is its own reward."

I would have preferred to celebrate this night with a toast in the town where we parted ways 30 years ago, but we are hundreds of miles apart tonight. Before calling it a night, I will raise a glass to Brian and wish him continued success. He's a superb columnist and has recently published a fine book, a series of loving essays about his adopted hometown, "Paris of Appalachia." See more here.

Thirty years later, my snap decision seems more crazy than bold. Brian once reminded me that when we told our 7-year-old daughter that I was quitting my job, she responded, "It's your life." So it is. And it's still the right decision.