A Non-Poetic Goodbye
Posted: April 28th, 2009 | Filed under: Media | 40 Comments »
There’s no point in making this sound overly sweet: David Poole did not like me. He did not like me 20 years ago when we both worked late night shifts on the desk at The Charlotte Observer. He did not like me much more than that when we would run across each other on the racin’ road through the years.
Golden Boy. That’s what he used to call me in those early years, when he was working what we called “The Slot” — which meant he was in charge for the night — and I was a kid working as a copy editor. Golden Boy. He didn’t mean the words kindly.
“Hey Golden Boy, you got that headline done yet?” he would yell.
“Hey Golden Boy, you know how to spell Kannapolis?” he would yell.
“Hey Golden Boy, you turning the NBA roundup into Shakespeare?” he would yell.
Like that.
I was 23. He was 31. Looking back, he seemed so much older than 31 to me then. David seemed like he had been around forever, and (I figured) that’s what made him grouchy. It was true: He had come up the hard way in journalism. He grew up in Gastonia, N.C., a smallish city about 25 miles West of Charlotte, and when David was 22 or so, he began working as a city editor at his hometown Gaston Gazette. That’s front-line newspaper work — circulation about 30,000, lots of local news, lots of looking East to Charlotte. David worked at the Gazette for a long while, different jobs, he became sports editor somewhere along the way. He covered junior high games. Middle school games. He worked and worked at the Gazette, then he bounced around to a couple of other papers, until finally the big newspaper that had shadowed him his whole life, The Charlotte Observer, finally hired him to work the desk.
I think that was why he didn’t like me right away. I didn’t pay those dues. Here I was, a punk kid, already working for the Observer, first job, got it while still in college, it wasn’t right. It’s a common thing in this crazy business … older journalists thinking younger ones had the world given to them. I can’t lie and tell you that I haven’t felt that way myself a time or two through the years.
Also, he didn’t care for my writing. Too much damned poetry. Get to the point already.
So, he would yell at me sometimes. Mock me other times. Come down on me most of the time. I used to tell myself that it wasn’t personal, that he was just trying to help me get better, and there was probably some of that. But it wasn’t all that. He really didn’t like me.
The funny thing is that sometimes we would have great times too. We used to play the home version of “Jeopardy” sometimes in the frantic and agitated hours after deadline, and I was always the host, and David was always the guy to beat. The guy was brilliant. He knew the answers to things you never expected — he would run the table on Chemistry or Greek Philosophers or whatever, and you would wonder where the heck he got all that stuff.
And of course, we in the office would constantly have sports arguments, constantly, all night long, Joe Montana or Dan Marino, Michael Jordan or David Thompson, Masters or U.S. Open. My favorite argument was between David and an editor named Harry — the argument being over who was the better all-around player: Larry Bird or Wilt Chamberlain.
The key was the phrase “all-around player.” This was what the point of contention … Harry felt quite certain that while Chamberlain was the better player, that was not the question. The question was: Who was the better ALL-AROUND PLAYER? And it drove Harry to distraction that David — the best Jeopardy player of the lot — would not make that simple distinction.
And I remember them going round and round, all night long, one of those absurd and never-ending arguments that you sometimes see in romantic comedies. And finally Harry simply blurted: “OK, let me get this straight. You are running a basketball clinic. And you can invite either Wilt Chamberlain or Larry Bird. You’re trying to teach ball-handling and passing and shooting and FREE THROW SHOOTING …”
And it was on those words “Free throw shooting,” — Wilt was a famously bad free throw shooter — that David Poole (perhaps for the only time in his life) smiled and shrugged and gave in.
A few years after I left the paper, David became the NASCAR writer for the Charlotte Observer, and what you have to understand is that the NASCAR writer for The Charlotte Observer is a bit like being Mr. Potter in Pottersville or Boss Hogg in Hazzard County. That job is royalty, it’s the center of the NASCAR Universe, and has been since a wonderful racing writer named Tom Higgins made it so years before. I did not know that David knew anything about racing, and I did not know that he could write. But he did know, and he could write. He was perfect for the job — tough, opinionated, forceful, sarcastic … well, he was in print exactly the man he was in life. More than anything, David Poole raged against pretension, airs, anything that felt artificial. He didn’t write poetry. He wrote what was inside him.
Like this from his Facebook page: “Sports don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But in the moment, when things are just right, they’re the most important thing in the world. That’s what makes them so great.”
And this, also from Facebook: If you were another person would you be friends with you? I think that is an outstanding question. After thinking about it a lot, I decided that I most likely would, but that I would also drive myself crazy quite often.
He was cordial enough to me when we ran into each other, but he was never anything that could be called nice, and there was never any sense that his views about me had softened. I represented something to him. I wish I hadn’t. I respected David. I even liked him sometimes. But one of the tricks of getting older is that you understand, in a deeper way than words, that some people are just not going to like you. And you move on.
Tuesday. David Poole returned home to North Carolina from the race in Talladega. He suffered a heart attack. He was rushed to the hospital and there, he was pronounced dead. He was 50. He is survived behind his wife, Karen, and three children. He was the most respected racing writer in the country so the words flowed in from Dale Earnhardt Jr. and Brian France and Rick Hendrick and all the names, big and small, in NASCAR. They talked about how he was a wonderful person and how he was a fabulous writer and how he was a friend to all and would give you the shirt off his back and how he was a fixture of the sport. And all of those things are true.
But I thought there was something more. David was also grumpy and rough and loud and opinionated. He had a temper, and he had a proud streak, and he helped countless people and being agreeable was not necessarily his default position. He was a big character in a business that used to have a lot of big characters but has fewer and fewer every year.
And when I heard the sad news, I remembered something: David sent me an email a couple of years ago. In it, he told me that he really liked a column that I wrote. In memory, that was the only compliment he ever gave me.
Then he wrote this: “And you know it has to be good. Because I wouldn’t write you just to be nice.”
He would not have. I treasure that email. I know David would not want me to get all poetic on him. I guess he’d just want me to say that David Poole gave all he had. And he did.
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Great tribute as always Joe.
I gotta ask though, what column was the one he liked?
But Joe, you went all poetic anyway.
My condolences to Mr. Poole’s family. I didn’t know him, but having worked in that business for a long time, I feel as though I did know him. You’re right, Joe, the characters who in many ways made the industry what it was are really disappearing.
Wow. That’s one story I’ve never heard. Leaving at 50 is really too early. I’m sure he would have had something to say about this tribute, but I felt it was deep, well-rounded, and personal. Great work as always.
R.I.P, Mr. Poole
Great tribute Joe.
David didn’t have it easy when he succeeded Tom, but made it his own and took it to another level. He was also the patron Saint of those of us desk folks who went back to beat writing. Hell, if David could succeed and prosper, then why couldn’t someone else?
I guess I must’ve heard of David Poole somewhere but I am not a NASCAR fan by any stretch but he obviously was the best NASCAR writer of his generation… or ever. What a powerhouse news room Posnanski and Poole.
He would be very proud of this as well.
This guy was important for you because he forced you to define yourself as a writer and probably as a person as well.
This is why work is so important, because it forces us to confront guys like this, who may be unpleasant but force us to face the truth.
And the truth always stings…
I used to work the night shift collecting high school scores at the Observer when I was a teenager. David was quite character. Can’t say that I knew him well enough to have a strong opinion about him, but he’s a hard person to forget. I’m sad to hear he died so young. RIP
Joe,
First, even though Mr. Poole may not be described as nice, by all, he, his family & friends (including you)are in my prayers.
I read his stuff in Charlotte and at the Brickyard. I did not work on a sports desk overnights with him, so I do not posssess the “all he had” angle, but I enjoyed his work.
Maybe if, Mr. Poole, did not have the proud streak, he would have sent more e-mails about your great work. This blog/obit deserves that type of obit. Please settle for these comments.
Larry Luper
Independence, MO
Well done Joe. David would have been proud, but he probably wouldn’t have let on! Maybe someday when you’re sitting in a press box or back at the office a breeze will come across your face or perhaps for no apparent reason, goose bumps will crawl all over your skin…you can smile. It’s probably David coming around, saying, “you did good, kid. But don’t tell anyone I said so!” Our condolences to his family! Sounds like a big presence moved on! WH
Nice tribute Joe. I must confess that I don’t believe Poole liked me very much either as a fellow Charlotte-area writer. Since I worked for Greensboro he didn’t really know me all that well, so maybe he was just being a little bit aloof. But one day we got paired in the same group in a media golf tournament at Rocky River Golf Club in the shadow of Lowe’s Motor Speedway. It was a scramble and I was driving the cart with Poole by my side. On our first hole, Poole teed off first and yanked a drive dead into the trees. The next guy in the foursome did the exact same thing. Then the third guy followed along in the draft. So now it was my turn as the dreaded 12-handicap A-player, and Poole made it very clear that despite his and our other partners doomed start and my notable weakness as a driver, I was not allowed to fail. “Don’t screw this up kid or we’ll have to quit now,” he told me sternly. Considering the circumstances, I hit it uncharacteristicly straight and long. We birdied the hole and ended up placing high enough to earn several prizes. Poole was always pleasant to me after that. He was one of a kind. Rest in peace big guy.
Joe:
Mr. Poole would have appreciated your remembrance because you took a stand, pulled no punches and told it straight.
Nice work, Golden Boy.
Regards,
Nate
Good Lord, you are a fabulous writer! Your words are powerful, tender, and kind. I have no idea why I ended up on this webpage this time of night, but I did. I thank you for the opportunity to know your comrade better.
If my word skills were one tenth as good as yours, and my subject was as wonderful as Mr. Poole, you might know the emotion I feel at this very moment.
They aren’t, so I will just say “Thank You” to you and send out a smile to David.
Excellent eulogy Poz. Followed it here from FB. I hadn’t heard about David’s passing. Sad.
I do not follow NASCAR and unfortunately have not read any of David Poole’s work.
I do know that you are a fine writer and an even better man.
Thank you for this tribute, much can be learned from it.
I had a similar situation as you, Joe. I got the coveted Jayhawk Internship to the Philadelphia Inquirer. In my first job, I made slot within a month, which really rankled the people who had worked years to get to that point.
Less than a year later, in a bout of extreme immaturity and bruised ego, I quit. And then sent out resumes. The Raleigh N&O wanted me, but The Press of A.C. got to me first. I was the second youngest editor on the rim by at least a decade, and within a couple of months the longtime slot was sending me over to massage headlines when they needed it, and I was correcting longtime editors’ grammar. And so they hated me, too, because I didn’t come up the hard way like them. And then I left newspapers with a bitter taste in my mouth. I guess you’ll run into it anywhere, but when you’re young and talented and just want to do the best job you can, it hurts when people are spiteful toward you just because you know different things and are more gifted in certain areas than them.
Joe,
Very nice column about sad news. I only knew David from afar in recent years as he became such a presence as a NASCAR writer, but spent many an afternoon and evening with him during college (class of 1981) as sports department running mates at The Daily Tar Heel at Carolina, holed up in a 10-by-8 foot office with manual typewriters and pica sticks getting the sports “section” done every day. He was a funny, smart — and yes, at times a little grouchy — guy then. Neither one of us came from a lot of money, and on postcard fall days at Kenan Stadium when we were in the Kenan Stadium press box covering the Tar Heels, doing something we loved to do, life seemed better than good.
Bill Fields, Connecticut
I wonder if anyone else could have written that.
I rarely leave comments applauding your work because so many here already do. Joe, this is one of the finest pieces I have ever read. Extremely insightful, touching, and respectful. Thank you for continuing to freely share your work with us via this blog.
[...] away yesterday. Joe Posnanski (yes, I have a giant man-crush on Poz, but he’s the best) wrote a nice tribune. But what struck me is this from Poole: “Sports don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. [...]
[...] • Joe Posnanski ditches the poetry, because he knew that’s what Poole would want: "There’s no point in making this sound overly sweet: David Poole did not like me. He did not like me 20 years ago when we both worked late night shifts on the desk at The Charlotte Observer. He did not like me much more than that when we would run across each other on the racin’ road through the years. Golden Boy. That’s what he used to call me in those early years, when he was working what we called "The Slot" – which meant he was in charge for the night – and I was a kid working as a copy editor. Golden Boy. He didn’t mean the words kindly…" (The recollections get much fonder from there; it’s a great tribute.) [Joe Posnanski] [...]
Great tribute Joe, but from reading it I get the impression that if David saw it he would say “cut the poetry, get to the point”, but you know what I’m glad you don’t just cut to the point otherwise I would proably have never heard of David Poole, let alone what type of guy he was.
What a great column, I think David might have “sort” of liked this one too! My condolences to all in the NASCAR family, I know everyone here in Charlotte is thinking of the Poole family today.
Isn’t being a NASCAR writer just a step above being a traffic reporter?
[...] the words kindly…" (The recollections get much fonder from there; it’s a great tribute.) [Joe Posnanski]• "David was the one writer who I felt I had to actually win the respect of," Jimmie [...]
[...] many words here, partly because there are better-written tributes by Monte Dutton, Tom Sorensen and Joe Posnanski. And partly because from where he’s sitting now, he’s waving us off and telling us [...]
Joe:
I know you both and I think much of what you say is true. But I think there is more to it. Pridefulness WAS a default mode for David. Because of that, I would not tell you this were he still alive, but he had a lot more respect for you will ever now know. He knew you deserved every one of those APSE Awards you won and he knew you deserved all the good things happening to you. But sometimes it is a lot tougher to say things than think them. I wish you could have sat down together for some barbeque. I would have picked up the check.
[...] many words here, partly because there are better-written tributes by Monte Dutton, Tom Sorensen and Joe Posnanski. And partly because from where he’s sitting now, he’s waving us off and telling us [...]
Joe, that was brilliant. I was thinking along similar lines how Poole always called me and a few friends the “Cool Kids.” We tried to invite him into the group several times but he never took us up on it. Anyway, you summed up the man perfectly and with great poetics. It was Golden.
David Newton
Well Joe you certainly turned out to be a fine writer and that was a fine tribute.
Joe, that was wonderful. No race track deadline room will ever be the same without David. I miss his thoughtful arguments and bellowing admonishments already.
Lisa
David and I were friends, but I too tried to be honest about him and not paint him as someone he wasn’t. David Poole stood on his own merits. I hope I succeeded in the honesty department as well as you.
As a forty year old, the following phrase hit the mark perfectly:
“But one of the tricks of getting older is that you understand, in a deeper way than words, that some people are just not going to like you. And you move on.”
[...] » Farewell, roomie…You Can’t Un-ring a Bell | Bench Racing With Steve and Charlie…A Non-Poetic Goodbye » Joe Posnanski…» david poole news bytes…David Poole | Jesper Kampmann…Poole, Observer’s NASCAR reporter, [...]
[...] writers with undisclosed religious beliefs are generically Christian — but when I read his eulogy for a former co-worker, it struck me that this is exactly the model for how we atheists can pay our respects to those with [...]
You’re a great writer.
In Charlotte, N.C., “NASCAR writer” is a trifle above traffic reporter, No. 25.
And light years ahead of someone who signs his name, “Just Wondering.” Anywhere.
[...] with undisclosed religious beliefs are generically Christian — but when I read his eulogy for a former co-worker, it struck me that this is exactly the model for how we atheists can pay our [...]
[...] A Non-Poetic Goodbye » Joe Posnanski [...]