Getting the names right (well, not always)

     When I hear or see the phrase "mistakes were made," if it pertains to journalism, I think of two names: John David Crowe and Charles McDaniels. 
     Make note of them. There's a catch. Get to it in a moment. 
     When I read a story or a book -- especially in the sports realm -- and I see a name that is misspelled or a fact that is obviously wrong, it reminds me that accuracy counts ... a lot.
     Personally, there have been some big misses, some big -- pardon the language -- dumbass moments. Easy to remember.
     Pointed out in a previous blog how once upon a time, I mixed up the names of coaches at the same school (Taylor for Turner at one, Sardisco for Cicero at another). Hey, it happens. 
     I recently saw segments in a couple of books that pertained to two of Woodlawn High School's greatest athletes, Mr. Bradshaw and Mr. Parish, which prompted this blog piece. 
     Saw some fact errors -- plenty, in fact, especially on names in a book published on Terry this year (I had several written and phone exchanges with the writer). Bugs me. 

Drop headline and top of the game story from the
1953 Byrd-Springhill game which Bill McIntyre of
The Shreveport Times considered the best high
school football game he covered. But "Crowe"
is incorrect.

     But then ... let's go back to the top, to those names -- Crowe and McDaniels. 
     They are wrong; they are misspelled. 
     People from Springhill -- and most old North Louisiana football fans -- will recognize them instantly. They are two of the greatest running backs ever from the old Springhill High School, the Lumberjacks.
     (The school now is called  North Webster High -- a consolidation of kids from Springhill, and the disbanded Shongaloo, Sarepta and Cotton Valley high schools. They even changed school colors and team nicknames. What's worse, it's the Knights ... even though North Louisiana already had some Knights.)
      OK, back to Crow and McDaniel. Those are the correct spellings. 
      The late John David Crow, a legend -- who went on to Texas A&M (and the Heisman Trophy) and the NFL and a terrific coaching/administrative career.
      Charles McDaniel, the legendary "Quick Six" who went on to an outstanding four-year career at Louisiana Tech and was an NFL Draft pick. 
      Here is the catch (and I have known this for years, but because of my first newspaper allegiance, I am just now publishing this fact, admitting it): Throughout their years at Springhill High, The Shreveport Times sports department never spelled their last names correctly.
      It's true. 
      In 1952, when John David Crow as a junior led Springhill to its first state football championship, and again in his great 1953 senior season -- when he was among the nation's top college recruits -- he was always Crowe in The Times. 

 Class AAA All-State story, 1970: McDaniels is there.

      And in 1970, the first year many high schools and their football programs in North Louisiana were largely integrated, McDaniel emerged as a running back who was a threat to  break for a touchdown any time he touched the ball ... thus, a "quick six."
      But all season, he was McDaniels in The Times. You can look it up. I did because that's what I remembered and I wanted to verify it.
      I wrote a lot about him that season, including the state semifinals loss (to Hammond) at Springhill's stadium, located just a couple of first downs from the Arkansas/Louisiana state line.
      In fact, I'd like to take credit for the "Quick Six" nickname. However, that is a stretch.
      What happened was that in the Nov. 8 game story on Springhill's 27-0 victory against Jesuit-Shreveport at Captain Shreve Stadium (a rare Saturday night regular-season high school game), I wrote that future opponents should "beware of the Lumberjacks' "quick six" gang, halfbacks Charles McDaniels and James Harris. They can score on you, and it doesn't take long."
      So not Charles specifically.
      Apparently, the name caught on at Springhill High. Someone, some group -- maybe the cheerleaders -- liked it, and pinned on McDaniel alone. The next week, we heard there were "Quick Six" banners strung at the Lumberjacks' game.
      From then on, he was "Quick Six." He wore jersey No. 36 that season at Springhill, but at Louisiana Tech for four years, he -- appropriately -- wore No. 6.
     As a freshman, he broke the Tech  record for points in one season (104, 17 TDs and one PAT catch), broke it three years later, and scored 52 career TDs (some "quick sixes").
      A puzzling aspect of the misspelled names: In 1952, The Times' main prep sports writer was Bill McIntyre, who a decade later became sports editor/lead columnist and -- full disclosure -- was my first boss there. He was an excellent journalist and writer, but, well, he missed on John David Crow's name.
     In 1970, I was a guilty part on McDaniel(s). Did have company; the rest of the writers who covered Springhill that season also missed it.
     Even in the All-State stories, the names are spelled Crowe and McDaniels. In the late Jerry Byrd's book Football Country, where he lists All-State teams near the back, it's McDaniels in 1970. But he did have Crow in 1952 and 1953.
     Can't understand this: Apparently no one from Springhill ever called to correct matters, in 1952-53 or 1970.
     And, I'm thinking that the names were misspelled on the Springhill rosters that were provided to us, on preseason forms and in game programs. Plus, the coaches (Billy Baucum was head coach in 1952-53, Travis Farrar was in 1970) never said a word.
     How's that for an excuse?
     Anyway, when John David showed up at Texas A&M for the 1954 football season, he was Crow. When "Quick Six" came to Louisiana Tech in the fall of 1971, he was McDaniel. 
     So, on Crowe and McDaniels, mistakes were made. And, for every co-worker that I scolded, or yelled at, or hurled an object their way (plus some nice language), because they messed up a fact or a name (or a bunch of names), I apologize -- again.
     I was going to list the names and the newspapers, but I don't have enough space.
     There were mistakes/omissions, too, in the book Survivors: 62511, 70726 about my parents and my family, and I received corrections/clarifications that I posted on the book's Facebook page.
     Mistakes are made. Can't always hide from them.                    

Vinny and KG: the best in our business

     In my 45 years of newspapering, Vince Langford and Ken Gladstone were the absolute best at what they did.
     Sports copy editors -- an unsung, behind-the-scenes job.
     Without them working to make stories accurate and sharp, to write -- or as often was the case, rewrite -- headlines, journalism loses.
     As of this week, both are retired.

Vince Langford (Star-Telegram photo)

     Before I go any further, you should know this: These two guys are among the best friends I ever worked alongside. (Ken is a year or two older than me; Vince a few years younger). So, yes, I am extremely partial.
     We shared many stories and laughs, and we battled -- grinded -- toward many late-night deadlines. I greatly admired their work ethic and their dedication. 
     But anyone who worked with them -- Vinny at the Houston Post (which folded in 1995) and for the last 21 years at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram (I was there for almost 10), KG at the Florida Times-Union in Jacksonville for 24 years (five when I was there) and then 11 more at the Orlando Sentinel -- likely will tell you what I'm telling you.
     They were excellent sports copy editors. They were the heart of the sports-desk operation.
     I worked with many talented sports columnists and writers, layout people (designers, in more modern terms) and sports editors. Some were as good as Vinny and KG in what they did; none was better.
     Yet while you easily would recognize columnists and writers from their photos and bylines, few outside our building knew just how valuable these guys were. 
     But those of us on the sports desks sure as heck knew.

Valerie and Ken Gladstone

     Vinny and KG knew the English language -- yes, grammar and punctuation and sentence structure; they knew sports, and sports history, and when they weren't sure, they were diligent fact-checkers. 
     They could polish well-done columns and stories; they could make the so-so efforts reasonable reads. They often improved headlines, or came up with clever ones themselves. 
     And they did it with a soft touch, not tearing up what the writers had done ... and doing it quietly. Rarely if ever did they admonish or criticize anyone publicly -- a great trait.
     Never heard either of them talk much about themselves, certainly not brag -- no ego involved -- and they deflected praise the best they could. No bull or craziness from them.
     Going to say right here that neither -- especially Vinny -- will relish this blog piece being done. But it's my blog, so ... 
     (And if they want to make corrections, as they have done often on things I wrote or missed while copy editing, they are free to do so.)
---
     Most appreciated, though, by me -- not exactly Mr. Cool -- was their ability to work through the chaos of a newsroom, specifically the sports desk.
     It could be a noisy place, full of mischief and "jocularity" -- thank you, Father Mulcahy of M*A*S*H -- and people watching (not quietly) games on television. 
     Vinny and KG just kept working. Not much time to waste, no desire to let stories pile up in their queues. (There were editors -- assigning editors -- and copy editors who took forever to work stories, and of course, writers filing copy who pushed us to the limit -- and beyond -- on deadline.)
     They were most often responsible for "the last read" on stories and columns, so it was a key role.
     Neither had final say of story play and photo selection; that was left to the sports editors/assistant sports editor, "night editors" and main design people. But Vinny and Ken made many big decisions on how well stories read.
      (Two others, Steve Schroats and Roger Pinckney, filled the night editor/copy chief roles most nights at the Star-Telegram, both with the same selfless traits as Vinny.)
     Ken's title at the Times-Union was sports copy "chief" (hail to our chief), although at one point before I arrived he had been a co-sports editor.
     Vinny did not have a "chief" title, but most nights that in effect is what he was. He most often made out the "duty roster" -- assigning stories to the copy editors -- and no question that he directed traffic in our department.
     (The night of my "tryout" at the Star-Telegram, my tall and talented friend Vince assigned me 14-15-16 stories -- I lost count; it was a terribly busy night -- and it was so many that the department workers thought I'd never return. I did, to haunt them for a decade.)
     My guys were intense workers. If the noise or fun got to be too much (I was never guilty of that, right), Vinny sometimes pointedly put a stop to it. But when there was time, he had as great a sense of humor as anyone.
      KG was more laid-back. He did not often instigate the fun, but took part in the laughter. But I do know of one instance he did not appreciate.
      A new sports editor -- words were not his strong suit -- was talking with Ken about his role on the sports desk and observed "you make a lot of money for what you do."
      That did not go over well with KG, and even less with me when he related that tale to me.     
---       
      In the massive reduction in the newsroom at the Star-Telegram over the past nine years, Vince survived. Having reached Medicare age and needing to take care of family matters, he leaves this week -- thankfully, on his own accord.
      He is going home to Tulsa to care for his elderly mother, and I am sure, root for the Oklahoma Sooners -- he is an OU graduate (1973) -- and the Houston Astros. He will commiserate with me on what he always calls "the Yankee boys."
      I suspect that Vinny would have stayed longer at the Star-Telegram had the job not changed. But the McClatchy Corp. powers have broken apart the sports desk for a "universal" desk, and the job title "audience growth editor" -- where online clicks are more important than the old-style print newspaper -- is not what we desired. (Cannot imagine myself in that role.)
      KG has been a Florida resident since high school, a transplanted Long Islander who came to Ocala with his retiring parents and did a couple of stints at the University of Florida (so he's a Gators fan; he's not perfect).
      He got his layoff note from the Orlando paper in 2011, worked a couple of short-lived sports copy editing jobs since then, and through some health issues, had fun working at Disney World and now as an Uber driver.
      If he had his choice, I'm guessing, he still would be editing sports copy at a large daily newspaper.
      We share a lot of "inside" jokes, and one is the rumor that Val and Ken have been married for 21 years (gee, we missed the wedding). KG also knows that we had "morons on our team" and "we have got no money going down the mountain." (These are lines I adopted/adapted from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. He's heard them often.)
      As I said, newspapers are a poorer lot without Vinny and KG. 
      I have used my blog to say thank you to many people who played important roles in my life and my career, and here are two more. 
      They edited to daylight, and nearly every day made very good sports sections even better.