“Bradford Era newsroom,” I’d say, picking up the phone.
“Hi.” With that one word, Roger Newton’s voice was instantly recognizable.
“Hey, Rog,” I’d say at about the same time he’d say, “This is Roger.”
And then we’d both laugh. That laugh is one of my favorite memories of Roger Newton, former Era reporter and correspondent. He passed away Thursday at Sena Kean Manor at the age of 69.
When I saw the notice from the funeral home of Roger’s passing, I started the phone tree of former Era staff, letting people know that Roger was gone. “No!” was the response from every person.
What can I say about Roger? I’ll tell you the words that come to mind immediately: Friendly, kind, gentle, witty, intelligent, personable, giving, caring — memorable.
In the modern world of journalism, people don’t stay around long. There’s always bigger markets, bigger paychecks, more “glory” at larger news outlets. At The Era, I’ve had the pleasure of working with people who personified the best in what small town newspapers are.
Roger was one of those people. He cared.
Former Era news guy Bob Duncan said, “I remember him just hanging out in the newsroom. It seemed to comfort him somehow. Everyone was busy, but the energy seemed to part around him. He was alone, but a part of something bigger than himself, and in a Zen sort of way, he knew it.”
Roger suffered from mental illness. He was never ashamed of it, but rather advocated for greater understanding and awareness. The medications he took caused him to be forgetful, among other side effects.
He’d visit the newsroom, and occasionally have a hard time remembering the names with the new faces. I’d tell him, “That’s OK, Rog. I can’t remember them, either.”
And I thought of that fondly when we had several new people at the same time last year, and I wrote their names on the window of my office corresponding to where they sat in the room.
I can imagine Roger laughing at me for that.
Roger loved puns, and jokes and laughing.
He’d call in a story — he never really mastered computers — and be reading it to you over the phone. I’d say, “Geez, Roger, you really spelled that word wrong.” I was the one typing, and messing up. He’d pause for a moment, then chuckle with that memorable laugh.
“You’re a card,” he said. “Yep, I’m the queen,” I’d reply. We’d laugh all over again.
I remember him telling me once it felt like chaos in his head. But he always projected a sense of calm.
After he stopped working for The Era, Roger lived in Bradford for awhile, and walked around the downtown. He’d stop in on his way back from the grocery store, sometimes because he wanted to visit, other times because he liked the air conditioning.
But he’d always bring with him a sense of calm. He’d sit quietly, reading the day’s newspaper. Sometimes, when a reporter would ask a question to the room at large, he would offer his opinion. And we’d listen.
He’s somewhat of a legend in the Era world. He wasn’t quick with a story, to the great frustration of the person putting the pages together. Before his health deteriorated to the point necessitating his retirement, Roger was meticulous. He knew what he wanted to say, and he wouldn’t be rushed.
With Roger’s passing, so goes a gentle soul who left an indelible mark on the world. Go with God, Roger, rest in peace. Know that you will always be remembered for the mark you left on us.
(Schellhammer is the Era’s associate editor. She can be reached at marcie@bradfordera.com)
