Tag: journalism

One of many who oiled the hinges

“There’s only one thing you have to know.“

— Dr. Heber Taylor, former Department of Communication Chair at Stephen F. Austin State University.

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“Alfred Heber Taylor,” his obituary read. “A retired journalism professor and veteran of the Battle of the Bulge answered the Call of Taps on Feb. 28, 2022.”

Dr. Taylor’s good advice one morning was but one small part of his helping me attain one of my goals in life. I count him among the many who oiled the hinges when doors of opportunity opened for me.

After the communication business picked me for a career, the resulting roadmap included practicing journalism and sharing it with those aspiring for the same journey. It took an extra step to bridge those two, however. That happened when a group of Shelby County citizens convinced me to run for the Texas House of Representatives.

Although finishing a few votes short of an address in Austin, I’ve always looked back on the experience favorably. I consider the campaign trail one the best “educations about people” available. One not found in a classroom. Throw your hat in the ring sometime. It’s a unique learning opportunity.

The best part of the process for me turned out to be meeting educators at Stephen F. Austin State University. Parking on campus was a challenge, but worth the effort when one of the doors I knocked on was Dr. Taylor’s office. After getting acquainted over shared viewpoints regarding education, he asked a question I never saw coming.

“I wish you the best, but what are your plans if you’re not elected?”

“Well,” I hesitated. “I’ve harbored aspirations of teaching journalism someday.”

With his ever-present smile, he responded, “If it turns out that politics is not part of what life has in store for you, come back and see me. We have a department full of journalism degrees, but none with experience. It would be nice to have someone who could bring real-life journalism to the classroom.”

After Super Tuesday primary votes were all in, I remembered Dr. Taylor’s offer, and was back in his office the very next week. “Leveling classes” and an assistant’s position in the summer and fall aligned my previous experience and non-related degree with university requirements. By the start of the spring semester, I was added to the full-time staff.

And with the best perk of all—a faculty parking permit.

I had given up my comfortable existence as a practicing journalist, editing copy and meeting deadlines, and gained a classroom of aspiring news writers. I had studied the assigned text. I had crafted a simple syllabus promising a passing grade in exchange for grasping the fundamentals of news gathering and breathing life into a story utilizing AP style and inverted pyramid format.

There was one thing I had not anticipated. An unexplained fear of facing news writing 101 students.

It wasn’t fear of public speaking. I was coming off a five-month trail of impromptu campaign speeches, candidate forums, pie suppers, church gatherings, civic clubs, media interviews, and more. It wasn’t lack of knowledge. I had 15 years of newsroom time in the trenches and a wall of press association editorial excellence awards.

It was more like, “what if I fumbled, sounding like the hard-nosed editor I had once been, but coming off sounding more like a nervous substitute teacher.” What if I stumbled teaching difficult situations like avoiding the pitfalls of relying on unnamed sources?

Before I could finish stressing over my fears, it was time. The hour to face my first class was here. I left my office and walked down the communication hallway in the Boynton Building. At the classroom door, I glanced in to see a couple dozen waiting students—then kept walking. At the other end of the hallway, I whispered, “You got this.”

Walking past the classroom a second time, I saw Dr. Taylor exiting his office. Same ever-present relaxed smile. Looking in my direction.

“Nervous,” he asked.

“A little,” I lied.

That’s when he offered advice that has served me well many times in the years since.

“All you have to know,” he said, “is just a little more than they do.”

“Good morning,” I announced to the class as I walked in . “My name is Leon Aldridge, and we are here to learn from each other.”

—Leon Aldridge

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(Photo above: The Boynton Building on the campus of Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogdoches, Texas. — Wikipedia Commons photo by Michael Barera.)

Leon Aldridge is a veteran editor, publisher, and communications professional, currently enjoying semi-retirement while awaiting his next challenge. His columns appear in: The Center Light and Champion, The Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, the Fort Stockton Pioneer, the Elgin Courier, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine.

© Leon Aldridge and A Story Worth Telling 2026. Feel free to use excerpts with credit given to Leon Aldridge and ‘A Story Worth Telling.’

Every newspaper needs a Hank

“All I know is what I read in the papers.”
— Will Rogers

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I still read newspapers for all I want to know. Usually with coffee

That’s where I saw the article about Hank’s retirement. While I never met Hank, Albert Thompson, my longtime friend and former newspaper associate when we worked for Jim Chionsini, told me about him. Albert once owned the Ripley, Mississippi, newspaper where Hank worked.

The way Albert told it was, “Hank worked for us 21 years, and another four with new owners before semi-retiring. Retired Marine, black belt, and wealthy from an inheritance, he drove a new customized pickup one day, a new car the next day, and his Harley another, weather permitting.

“I would love to have a picture of him delivering rack papers on his Harley. He would strap them on, and off he went.

“Few mayors liked him, but all respected him for obvious reasons. He worked because he liked what he was accomplishing, not for the money.

“I remember him telling me one night as I walked through the newsroom, ‘Boss, a bus wreck is all we need for a perfect front page.’ He already had murders, drug busts, scandals, and politicians going to jail—yet joked about needing a bus wreck. It was all in fun to get a laugh out of the crew.

“Every newspaper needs a Hank,” Albert concluded

I also read a newspaper piece Hank wrote defining news. It was titled, “They say only bad news sells newspapers.”

“They joke that bankruptcy courts are jammed with obituaries of newspapers that died because they only printed what’s right with the world,” Hank began. “They’re wrong.”

“Good news sells newspapers, too. At least on the community journalism turf. Goodness sells more papers more often than bad news.

“Take this test. Pick up the community newspaper of your choice and see how much of it is bad news. Whatever went wrong that day — deaths, crashes, robberies, disasters both large and small, the dog bite, the bee sting. Then look at what’s left. A lot.

“Readers will get madder faster about good news being left out than bad news being omitted. A newspaper will get more calls for leaving out the school honor roll or a community correspondent’s column than for omitting a car crash or a mugging.

“To prove how well good news sells, try ignoring it the next time you buy a newspaper. Scan the headlines and read only what’s wrong with the world.”

I’m paraphrasing the rest of Hank’s piece for brevity, but you’ll get the point. He proposed ignoring honor rolls because no one wants to read about the best and the brightest. He suggested disregarding school activities like band and sports, arguing “anyone trying to better themselves or earn a scholarship is probably a kid who says Grace before dinner and goes to church on Wednesday nights.”

Skip engagements, weddings, family reunions, and wedding anniversaries, because who wants to read about people settling down and starting families?

Armed services promotions and honors. Who cares about people serving their country?

Church news. Who cares about do-gooders? Civic clubs, associations, or volunteer groups. Just chumming around together to get out of the house.

Local businesses. Advertisements. None of that self-serving stuff.

Fairs, Christmas parades, and all that foolishness. Agriculture stories. Who cares what’s happening on the farm?

Special sections. Why recognize local people, businesses, and industries?

Then he concluded with, “Now … get to the bad news. See who got arrested, indicted, convicted, injured, or killed. Bet you can’t do it … without peeking at some of the good news. You’d be too curious. And curiosity is why good news sells newspapers.

“If someone printed an issue containing only bad news, you probably wouldn’t buy it. You’d have to hold it tightly. Otherwise, you might breathe on the single page and accidentally blow it out of your hands.”

Hank’s logic aligns with recent reports on newspaper readership revealing that despite challenges facing newspapers, emerging trends offer optimism for their future. Studies that say readers weary of digital overload are seeking credible, balanced, in-depth journalism—and finding it in established local newspapers.

Hank was right. And so is Albert.

Every newspaper needs a Hank.

—Leon Aldridge

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Aldridge columns are featured in these publications: The Center Light and Champion, The Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche,  the Fort Stockton Pioneer, the Elgin Courier, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine.

© Leon Aldridge and A Story Worth Telling 2026. Excerpts and links may be used, provided full and clear credit is given to Leon Aldridge and ‘A Story Worth Telling’ with appropriate and specific directions to the original content.