R.I.P. Bob McManus: a newsmans newsman

“You know, you can’t really have friends in this job,” Bob remarked a time or two, and didn’t bother spelling it out: As editorial-page editor, you can be loyal to a few principles, to the paper, the readers and the craft, plus maybe a wife and kids; stretch it any further and you’ll find you’ve got to disappoint one of them. And Bob McManus wasn’t the betraying kind; he was strictly old-school in that way, as in so many others.Not a stuffed shirt, but restrained in a generation when most real newsmen hollered.Matter-of-fact to a fault, except when enthused over some new gadget or computer or camera thing (he was an early adopter).Or when reciting from memory the odd bit of finest-ever news writing, like the account of John Dillinger’s death I can’t seem to track down now, dammit.The greatest sin he confessed to me (he’d quit drinking years before) was having a fondness for many politicians: “I like Chuck,” he’d say, not that it stopped him from ripping the guy a new one in print.I worked with him for 17 years; he maybe saved my life at least once, getting the cops to come drag me from home to the ER after a week of me pretending I could just sleep out pneumonia.He committed many fine acts of journalism; a classic editorial captured one of Gov.

George Pataki’s last State of the State speeches, alternating direct quotes of the boilerplate with “blah blah blah” — perfectly capturing just how fully, deeply and insincerely the governor was mailing it in.The job can get surreal: In election overtime 2000, for weeks we had to care very deeply about the latest on hanging chads, butterfly ballots and various hopelessly not-ready-for-prime-time Florida officials; doing our jobs while marveling that this mess might be the biggest story of our careers.Subscribe to our daily Post Opinion newsletter! Please provide a valid email address.

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