Comments on: Journalism mourns a loss

By: Eric Schwarz

Eric Schwarz — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 02:46:08 +0000

Jonathan “replaced” me at the Cape May County Herald, when I went up to the Herald-News, and then came to the Herald-News a few years after I left, so we never worked together.

I read his stories with a great respect for the heart and soul that he put into his work. I remember once visiting back in Rio Grande and he scoffed at the color-coded Rolodexes that I had left him. I was a straight-laced young reporter intent on getting the Five W’s and H into every story (pretty well, I think, and sometimes with a catchy turn of phrase), and he was someone very different …

Check out Al Campbell’s tribute to Jonathan:
http://www.capemaycountyherald.com/article/21803-former-herald-reporter-jonathan-e-maslow-59

By: Sarah Buttenwieser

Sarah Buttenwieser — Fri, 22 Feb 2008 04:12:09 +0000

These stories (in the piece & the comments) were just great… I so enjoyed every meeting with him, which often occurred during very busy, bustling events & yet conversations with Johnny really stopped time & took place in a protected space. His enthusiasm & focus protected you from distraction.

By: Duayne

Duayne — Fri, 22 Feb 2008 02:17:03 +0000

Nice tribute As an old newspaper hand, I, too regret the loss of such characters that once gave our newsrooms, well, character.

I didn’t know Maslow, but I knew men like him well enough to mourn him from afar.

(One copy editing nit: He may have traveled on a road, but “he routinely rode [not road] a second-hand bicycle…”)

By: Claude Deltieure

Claude Deltieure — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 20:32:57 +0000

I think Jonathan was a throwback to the days when:
* using a typrewriter meant learning the art of pure writing first — so you didn’t have to do all that cutting and pasting that’s so easy now with computers.
* most people in America were just “getting along” economically and so money was not such a huge barometer of how well you were doing. What counted most was what you amounted to in character, not the amount you had in the bank. It’s no coincidence that pictures taken at Yankee stadium during the Great Depression shows nearly everybody in a suit — probably the only one they owned in those hard times. It was the Average Joe saying “I may be broke, but I still have Class.”n Jonathan cared a lot less about money than about projecting personal class.
* A time when schools emphasized composition, mostly hand-written, as well as book learning. You want to be Jonathan-esque wiggy brilliant and informed? Read, read, read, read. And then grow old and read some more. There’s no substitute for a lifetime of applied learning. Along the way you are bound to stumble upon an ideal, or two, or three, that you can embrace as a life mission. Which speaks to:
* The courage of conviction. Reading Jonathan’s obit, it’s clear he was crazy with conviction, to the point of habitually being willing to risk his life. I recall a soldier from World War II who spoke of his actions in combat, and when asked how he could have risked death continuously and not gone nuts, he said “Perhaps life was not as precious back then.” Indeed, not as precious as the principle you’re pursuing at the moment. Jonathan seemed a prime disciple of the concept.
* a time when orneriness was as unpleasant as it is today, but far more tolerated as part of mainstream character. Who did not have heated disagreements with Jonathan? But they were never the “Why do I need this extra BS” kind of disagreement. They were turf battles of the mind, and a twist on that Voltairism: “Lovers’ quarrels are a remanifestation of love” — meaning that whatever you were arguing with Jonathan about, it was something that was near-n-dear to both of you.

I knew Jonathan only briefly, but I hope I can offer some solace to others by saying that I recognized him instantly: The human being trying to live the human ideal. There’s lots of them out there. Make sure they’re a part of your life. Jonathan would be so honored to know his small life is being distilled as part of that pantheon. He’d be even more honored if each of us tried to join him there.

By: Tracy Bodoff

Tracy Bodoff — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 22:50:20 +0000

Jonathan Maslow was an administrator’s nightmare. His time cards were always late (not to mention dirty and crumpled), emails were rarely read and never returned and HR paperwork was just flat-out lost. If you wanted something from him (something that was not related to a story, a source, a lede) well then you had to hassle, harass, harangue him and then . . . just give up.

He brought strange things into the office – smelly fish, “homemade” yogurt, carrots with dirt still falling off of them (as if he’d picked them from someone’s garden on the way to work. Oh yes, and a bird in a box. Really. One day, early in his career at the Herald, Jonathan brought an injured bird (that he’d encountered on his way to work) into the newsroom. A good deal of fretting, phone calls and an hour of one of my editorial assistant’s time later, the bird was safely deposited at a wildlife sanctuary.

Obviously, he was not the usual stodgy editor. Often, I would find him talking intently to one of my editorial assistants. I would ask him later “Is everything OK? Were you giving so-and-so work to do?” “I was just encouraging them” he’d answer, leaving me to inanely respond “But . . . but . . . but we don’t DO that here.” In a fast-paced atmosphere of deadlines and criticism, Jonathan had quickly figured out what many of us had forgotten about.

As an office-support worker, you learn to deal with all kinds of folks. Often times, you do your best to try to get them to change their habits to suit your needs, your timeline — in short, you drive yourself crazy. Jonathan was a great editor, a mentor to his staff (and to mine) and an all-around fascinating guy. So, his time cards were smudged — we knew he was always there. So, he didn’t respond to email — we just had to talk to him face-to-face. And as far as the odd animal, mineral and vegetable matter that he trailed with him wherever he went — well they were just opportunities to hear a great story from him, should you choose to ask.

I had never encountered anyone quite like Jonathan Maslow before the Herald News, and have not met anyone remotely like him since I left there. For this, I am both grateful and sad. Could I handle working with another eccentric, free thinker like him? Probably. But, will I ever encounter such a person again? Well . . . that is why I am sad.