Jim Jacobson, Editor.
I hugged my old boss one day recently. Out of the blue we embraced.
Funny thing, my most vivid memory of Jim Jacobson is being called into his office with my colleague Rick Bragg decades ago. It was like the principal’s office only I was 26 and the year was 1985. Rick and I got into a bit of trouble for publishing the prisoner’s list of demands from a riot at St. Clair Correctional Facility in which I was somewhat involved in.
How I looked in 1985 covering St. Clair riot.
Recently I went with Catherine to visit Frances, the mother of Ann, a neighbor of ours. She’s in a memory care unit in Birmingham with the same disease I have: Lewy Body dementia. She is about 20 years or so older than me though.
We had a wonderful talk and shared our experiences. She asked: “Do you ever forget what you were going to say while you are talking?”
Of course, I said. We laughed and shared some more. I noticed her hands shook more than mine. But her lucidity comforted me, even though she had her Lewy moments.
She asked: Did you see Mr. Jacobson? Such a nice man. I told her I did. Down the hall, just a bit ago.
He was sitting in a room with three other residents watching TV.
My old boss looked older of course.
I didn’t really know much about him, though I knew he was a respected journalist, who did some work overseas, including correspondence from Vietnam, and he was an elected member of the University of Alabama communication school hall of fame.
I hadn’t talked to him in 30 years. I had left the paper in 1987, and returned in 2011. He retired in 1997.
I told him who I was; I thought I detected a flash of recognition. We talked and I believe he was telling me about the news business and how it has changed.. But I’m not sure what he said as he spoke softly. My hearing is going downhill fast. And people ask me to speak up a lot – a soft voice is one of the symptoms of my disease and many types of dementia.
We chatted a bit more as I sat there trying to process.
Things often come full circle. That circle is important for reasons I don’t know now other than I know the circles are important..
Upon leaving, he arose from his chair. He hugged Catherine.
I stuck out my hand.
I had been away all this time in Florida and California. Had three kids. I hadn’t thought about Mr. Jacobson in forever it seemed. But now here we were, me and my old boss, here at the end of a circle.
But a circle never ends.
He ignored my hand and opened his arms wide.
We embraced, me and my old boss.
Ron Ingram, Dean Barber, James Jacobson, Tom Arenberg at the Big N, Jan. 1986.
Jim was Dad’s protege on the editorial page and, after Dad’s death, his successor. I remember well the times when Jim would bring his family over to Mom and Dad’s house and we four kids would play with his three. I’ve often wished I could have sat in on those conversations between Dad and Jim. They were both so damn smart! Years later, when I was a reporter there, Jim was always so gracious. We are all fading now, with only memories, mostly good, to maintain us.