I just came back from a funeral I never wanted to attend. Courtney Tower was a family friend who was the last of the Greatest Generation. Yes, he was old but, damn, I’m going to miss him.
People shape us. Some sow seeds in our growing up and then continue to water them. That was him. There are many things I could tell you but this isn’t that article. This is an ode to editors because it’s time they were celebrated.
While growing up, I admired Courtney. He had worked with Pierre Trudeau, was an editor and, ultimately a newspaper man as he stated poignantly, "I work 60 years in the same Press Gallery where I started. However tenuous it was, I liked to be at the fringe at least of the political action. That was the main reason. The extra money was fine, and I loved walking through the buildings.
There’s something about this place. There truly is."
As a young woman I often butted heads with Courtney on many issues. He was one of the few adults who I enjoyed arguing with because he had a sense of humour to match his stubbornness, had an unshakeable commitment to democracy and always doing the honourable thing.
When I wrote my first article for a national newspaper, I excitedly told Courtney and he asked to see the article before I submitted it. I sent it to him with high hopes that he would like it. He returned it full of corrections, explained that I had a lot of facts first, summarized the story at the end and the facts presented like that bored him greatly. He told me to tell the story first and then the reader will be hungry for the facts when they're presented. He also told me to write to the reader in that way always: make them curious enough that they want to read what comes next. There were other corrections and he signed it all "Grim Reaper".
The edits were presented in his usual gruff manner but, oddly, I was not offended but, rather, enchanted by the fact that he took such an interest in the article and in improving it. They say that all politics is local and Courtney's deep commitment to democracy politically started with his relationships. He took a completely novice writer of articles like me as seriously as he would a proper journalist.
We went back and forth with my corrections and his critiques until he was satisfied. I sat down and compared the first article with the last edit and there was no question about how much better the final version was and how much I had learned along the way.
In the last few years, Courtney asked me to write an article to publish in his community newspaper. I was too busy to write it so, of course, I put everything aside and wrote it immediately. As I structured the article and edited it, I heard Courtney's voice because he honed many of my skills. Courtney critiqued the article, of course. I was grateful for more wisdom generously coming my way. Then, when we were done, he published it.
I've heard many writers bemoan working with editors, claiming they feel insulted by the changes suggested. Quite apart from what skills Courtney taught me, he taught me to be grateful for editors. They are someone who, unlike most people on the planet, are actually reading your work and taking it seriously. The critiques that appear to come out of left field are actually the best ones of them all, because they teach you a new way of looking at writing.
With his tough, newspaper guy approach to editing, Courtney was the best editor of all. There was such empathy in his signing his edits "The Grim Reaper" because he knew I would be taken aback by the extent of the changes, the many criticisms and humour was the best way through that.
I will deeply miss my "Grim Reaper" and will continue to write with his voice in my ear.
Thank you for the edits, Courtney.
