(Editor’s Note: Ten years ago, May 5, 2005, was a significant day in The Dispatch’s 31-year history, as it marked the day the founder, Dick Lohmeyer, passed away after 50 years in the newspaper industry. On the 10-year anniversary of his death, it’s appropriate to share some of the thoughts expressed by Steve Green, editor and publisher, in the paper the next day that are only deepened by the passage of time.)
Reprinted From May 6, 2005
By Steve Green
Editor
A true newspaperman died early yesterday morning from prolonged health problems. That newspaperman was my mentor, my friend, my advisor, my boss and my stepfather.
When I was growing up in this newspaper business, Dick would often tell me, “A newspaperman never has any friends.” I have found out these last couple months he was wrong. Dick always thought he was a hated man. It was almost as if he relished being disliked. He thought he had more enemies than friends as a result of printing the news. There’s no disputing the fact he ruffled many feathers over his 50 years in the newspaper business, but he would be surprised by the well wishes my family has heard these last few months as word of illness spread.
During one of our final conversations, I told him for someone who proclaims to not have any one friend, you have a lot of people who care about you. I hope he heard and understood that because it’s the truth. Dick had more friends than he realized. They may not be the type you and I have. Those friends we keep close to our hearts, seek solace with in times of need or rely on for camaraderie. But they were people he had known for years and appreciated his honesty.
One call I got last month pretty much summed it up. This individual was pretty clear — he didn’t like Dick too much as a businessman and disagreed with how he published a paper, but he respected him and wished to send his best wishes to the family at a time he knew was difficult for us.
Nobody disagreed with Dick more than I on the issues of life, family and the newspaper business. There was nobody more stubborn and opinionated, but that was who he was his entire life. It was Dick and one thing you could never call him was fake. He was brutally honest throughout his life. It didn’t matter who it was. Whether it was the governor of the state, the mayor Ocean City or a bicycle shop employee, he said what he wanted when he wanted. There was no filter. That was just his way.
Throughout the 12 years we worked closely together, Dick and I were constantly struggling to figure out a balance between the boss/employee and father/son relationship. We battled with it for years and it was painful for me and I assume for him. It wasn’t the way I thought it would be. He surely felt the same way.
Our battles changed about a year ago when our relationship changed. What it was I do not know to this day, but at some point it seemed he was ready to turn the business over, and I, in turn, was ready to give him the credit and respect he deserved.
Seeing Dick in recent months was terribly painful. He was always a proud and dignified man. It was as if his dignity and pride were no longer there. He was not the man I have known for more than 25 years, but that’s what happens when death is near. However, there is no pain greater than seeing someone suffer that you love and admire, in particular someone who has done so much for you over the years. My gratitude is endless, my heart is heavy and eyes blurry and I pray he knew how truly grateful I was to have him in my life and to have the opportunity to work for him.
It was fitting for Dick to pass away on a Thursday, our deadline day at The Dispatch. I believe if Dick had his way the newsroom would not do any work until Thursday. He always wanted the most up-to-date news on his pages. There were deadline days when everything was running smoothly and Dick would stroll in and purposely rock the boat. Whether it was altering a headline so it grabbed more attention, or was more sensational, switching a photo or criticizing an editorial, he always made Thursdays interesting around the office. It was no secret it would drive me crazy. He liked that. It was his paper and he had the ultimate say.
I will remember Dick as a consummate newspaperman. His legacy will endure on the pages of The Dispatch forever.
As far as I am concerned, it will forever be Dick Lohmeyer’s paper. I am proud and honored to carry on his legacy and can only hope to make him proud. I hope to build upon the solid foundation he laid over nearly 50 years in publishing. It’s a serious business and something I have neither taken for granted nor expected to be handed.
While the newspaper business was in his blood, Dick’s wife consumed his heart. He loved his partner in life for more than 25 years. Oh, did he love his Patsy. As a son, that’s all I ever hoped for my mother. Dick, a man with a reputation for being cold and honest to a fault in the community, was just a big softie when it came to his Patsy. Oh sure, he would stand up to her when it came to issues around the household, but we all knew who was the boss. Oh, how he loved his Patsy. For that, I will forever be appreciative. His memory will love on through her and our entire family, and, of course, on the pages of this very newspaper.