NLGJA's Roy Aarons Online Memory Book

Memory Book Instructions

2006-11-30T11:10:00.000-08:00

Please email your memory to NLGJA's Programs Coordinator Jason Lloyd Clement. Your submission will be uploaded within 24 hours.

Also, feel free to submit a Comment to any Post.

From Garrett Glaser, Former NLGJA National Board Member

2005-02-14T08:18:00.000-08:00

Garrett Glaser
Former NLGJA National Board Member
Correspondent, CNBC
Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Roy was wise. He helped me in so many ways but here's one example. We were sitting in the lobby of the NLGJA convention hotel (it was in Minneapolis that year) and I was concerned about the tone of the keynote I was slated to give the next day. I had asked Roy for counsel.

"I'm really confused," I began. "My feelings about the future of TV news are all over the map. I don't want to sound wishy-washy up there."

"Relax, you'll do fine," Roy told me. "If you have really mixed feelings about it, tell them that! Share your honest feelings with them and don't be afraid to say you're conflicted. You'll give a better speech if you're upfront with them."

I did as he suggested. The speech was well received. Roy was right again. I miss him.

From Scott Davis

2004-12-29T13:12:00.000-08:00

Scott Davis
Kaneohe, Hawaii

My friend Bill Davisson moved from Oakland to Sebastopol and somehow met Roy. Bill regaled my partner Howard and me with Roy's stories, including some Washington Post ones. I ashamed to admit at the time I barely knew who Katharine Graham was. So, when we finally met Roy at one of Bill's August Audacities parties, I was still fairly unaware of Roy's accomplishments. Upon meeting him, his sarcastic wit immediately charmed me. Roy's bubbly vivaciousness truly came out that day when he got on the stage to perform something he had written. The crowd loved him. I saw this scene repeated many times.

Over time, I got to know Roy and Josh a little bit better. We invited them along on a Tahoe ski weekend. On the last day Josh had gone off skiing and Roy stayed behind. As I was driving him to ski resort to meet up with Josh we got to talking about my being from Cleveland. He told me the last time he was in Cleveland was on a plane with Bobby Kennedy. As they were leaving Cleveland word came aboard that Martin Luther King, Jr. had been shot. When they arrived in Chicago word came down the aisle of the plane that King had died. Roy turned to tell the person behind him and it was Bobby Kennedy. His nonchalance in telling this story was classic Roy. He was never one to name drop or brag, but had interesting stories tell that often included well know people.

Howard and I were staying overnight with Bill in Sebastopol in October and we had the chance to see Roy for the first time after moving away two years ago. I could barely tell all that he had recently been through. Our lunch with Roy and Josh was filled with fun and laughter. (And the million questions that journalists tend to ask.) Roy even performed for us. We are very fortunate to have had such a nice final memory of Roy.

From Dr. Dane S. Claussen

2004-12-14T13:40:00.000-08:00

Dr. Dane S. Claussen
Head (2004-5), Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Interest Group, Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication (AEJMC)

Associate Professor & Director of Graduate Programs, Department of Journalism and Mass Communication, Point Park University, Pittsburgh, PA

I first saw Roy in action when I attended the second annual convention of the National Lesbian & Gay Journalists Association in New York City in 1993, but met Roy in mid-1994 when we were both attending the Newspaper Association of America convention in San Francisco. Roy was there lobbying newspaper chains to offer same-sex benefits, and probably to hire openly GLBT employees, send recruiters to the NLGJA convention, and so on. I was there promoting my newspaper brokerage (which included being the first media company broker to represent GLBT publications for sale) and newspaper management consulting businesses. I sought out Roy because I had been circulating a white paper on the idea of a national chain of local GLBT publications (which later was executed on a limited scale by Windows Media LLC, which owns The Washington Blade and others), even though I knew they weren't NLGJA's primary constituency. I thought Roy might know a lot of gay editors, gay publishers, gay entrepreneurs, and others who might be interested in a local GLBT publications venture by themselves or with partners. I didn't know, and it never would have occurred to me, that Roy had gone from only really coming out at ASNE to lobbying for NLGJA at NAA in only four years, a period shorter than I had been out, even though I was 30 years younger.

Roy listened curiously and respectfully, asked me about myself, told me a little about himself (including mentioning, with an obvious twinkle in his eye, his partner), but Roy didn't promise anything. By late 1995, I was out of the brokerage business and back in graduate school and didn't see Roy for several years. But I read, or more accurately, inhaled, his book, Prayers for Bobby. It probably remains to this day the most flawlessly written book I've ever read. Let's put it this way: Prayers for Bobby is about as close to a perfect book as one is ever going to read. Not only did I wish I had written it (which admittedly I've thought about more than one book), but if I had edited it, I wouldn't have changed a single word, a single punctuation, a single paragraphing, etc., in the entire volume. I can't say that about any other book. I wrote Roy a letter telling him that, but he was too modest to reply or even ever mention it. Little did I know then, although it certainly didn't surprise me later, that he would go on to write well-received operas and plays, or that he had been an exceptional editor from a young age (city editor of the New Haven Journal-Courier at 27) and
for a long time.

When Roy, by this time a visiting professor at the University of Southern California, decided in 2002, that he was going to re-launch the Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication's GLBT Interest Group, which had been defunct for about 10 years, and later, to get "sexual orientation" added into the curriculum diversity language used by ACEJMC to accredit journalism schools, Roy sought out my help repeatedly. I strategized with him on the phone and at the AEJMC convention in Miami in 2002, and gathered signatures with him at the AEJMC convention in Kansas City in 2003. Roy told me several times early in the process that he needed help and advice to understand the politics and structures of the AEJMC, ACEJMC and ASJMC, but as a good journalist, Roy had a lot of "sources." And as a very bright man, he was learning faster than I could tell him anything he didn't know. Before anyone who wasn't watching knew what had happened, NLGJA had a representative on ACEJMC, "sexual orientation" was in the ACEJMC accreditation standards, and the revived GLBT Interest Group was up and running.

Roy asked me to serve as the first Head of this revived Interest Group, and was, I think, genuinely perplexed about why, as a matter of both logistics and protocol, I couldn't serve as Head of the new GLBT Interest Group during the same year that I was already slated to serve as Head of the 650-member Mass Communication & Society Division. Roy, who never took "no" for an answer, asked what I could do, and I told him that I could serve as Vice-Head/Program Chair in 2003-4 and Head in 2004-5. So last year, the University of Iowa's Sue Lafky and Indiana University's David Adams were Co-Heads and I was Vice-Head, but Roy, with only the title Secretary/Newsletter Editor, was our mentor, our inspiration, our guilty conscience, our cheerleader (he called me "brilliant" more than once, but based on what, I'm not sure), and much more. News article and obituary writers have been using words about Roy such as "passion," "vision," "perpetual motion," and believing in the "possible." All of that is true and more. If Roy could, with his energy and personality, "fill up" a newsroom or a meeting room at an NLJGA convention, and he did, I don't think anyone who ever saw him with a group of typical JMC professors-who as group often strike me as mostly sober, even somber-will ever forget the contrast. That also wasn't lost on Roy; he wondered at least a few times why most of his late-in-life colleagues (America's JMC professors) didn't seem as excited, optimistic and idealistic about something, anything, as he was-especially
(this was implied but unstated) since he was older than almost all of them.

It was a privilege to have known Roy and worked with him, and it was truly an honor to apparently have been liked and respected by him. The last time I talked with Roy, he informed me that he had placed me on NLGJA's educators committee and hoped I wouldn't object. Such a call was routine for Roy, but I wish I had known it would be the last time I would talk with him. On the other hand, it's an appropriate memory because it was so in character: he was working on what was important to him and for the rest of us until the end. I will miss him terribly.

From Jennifer Juarez Robles, Former NLGJA National Vice President for Print and New Media

2004-12-10T07:30:00.000-08:00

Jennifer Juarez Robles
First NLGJA National Vice President for Print and New Media
Gazette, News Desk, Colorado Springs

Roy Aarons was my hero, always was and always will be. We last talked in person at the NLGJA 10-year anniversary convention, when we got away from the hotel and remembered the group's growing pains and many of our own. Oddly, after those initial intense years, I connected most with Roy in a spiritual way, sans journalism. Or maybe they were the same and we didn't know it until later? As Dan Woog already said, his impact on my career is enormous. But he taught me much more: how to live with a chronic illness (scleroderma for me); how to love without conditions, how to forgive and how to let go. He and Josh always will have a special place in my heart.

From Bob Meyers

2004-12-08T14:34:00.000-08:00

Bob Meyers
President & Chief Operating Officer
National Press Foundation

Roy Aarons was the best reporter I ever met. In the early 1970s I was a stringer for The Washington Post and Newsweek, in Los Angeles. Roy’s responsibilities took him away from L.A. a great deal, and he hired me to do stringing for the paper. One time I was in the office (mid-Wilshire district) when he was working somebody on the phone. I still feel sorry for the guy. Roy kept saying, “I need facts, I need facts!” and he didn’t let up until he got what he wanted. It remains one of the most impressive performances I’ve ever seen. Roy had what every great journalist has – a gut response that tells him whether something is a story, and how to pursue it. After nearly 30 years in the business, I still regard him as one of my mentors.

From Karen Harris, Former NLGJA National Board Member and Chapter President

2004-12-08T14:17:00.000-08:00

Karen Harris
Former NLGJA National Board Member and Chapter President
Alaska Garden Gate Bed and Breakfast
Palmer, Alaska

Last week, one of my great uncle died a few days before Roy. Over the next few days, I thought fond thoughts of the kind and funny man who was my great uncle. But when I heard that Roy had died, I wept long and hard. I was surprised by the depth of my reaction to Roy's passing, considering I've spent maybe a dozen hours in conversation with him since meeting him 10 years ago. I could tell you in great detail about the evening when I first met Roy, though, while so many special moments with lovers and partners have not survived the test of time. So, what is it, exactly? Perhaps a certain je ne saie quoi... He brought out the best in so many of us, and I'll do my best to honor his legacy.

From Rose Arce, Former NLGJA National Board Member

2004-12-06T10:49:00.000-08:00

Rose Arce
Senior Producer, CNN

I'll best remember Roy for the last time we saw each other, at a library near his home in California. I was speaking with a group of women about a book on Sept. 11th and the place was full of other women wanting to celebrate tales of heroism and share their collective sadness. I saw Roy from my spot on on the stage, his silver hair and bright smile beaming in this sea of dark female faces. He looked so pleased. I asked him later why he'd shown up. "Well, dear Rose, I'm here as a reporter of course," he said pulling a notebook and pen from his vest pocket. I had to laugh. Here is this former executive editor, a playwrite, professor, author, a national hero to so many journalists, and he'd decided to come cover my event for some obscure, little hometown newspaper because he thought everybody should know that lesbians had been involved in the Sept. 11th recovery effort. "If you think something has to get said then sometimes you just have to go say it yourself" he remarked and pulled out a pocket camera to take some publicity photos.

What an amazing guy Roy was. He lived what he believed and his example guided me and so many others to aspire to that same standard. If you think it should be said, say it. If you think it needs to be done, do it. In that sense, his values will live long after him, in everyone he touched.

From Chuck Small

2004-12-03T09:50:00.000-08:00

Chuck Small
Deputy News Editor, The News & Observer, Raleigh, NC

The music throbbed. Hundreds of men and women packed the ballroom of the Washington Hilton. We were in town for the 1993 March on Washington for gay, lesbian and bisexual civil rights. Having conquered our fears, ratcheted up our courage and braved the sunburn (for those of us too naïve to have brought sunblock), we communed the way we knew best. We danced.

That is, many of us danced. I was too awestruck, maybe still too afraid, to put myself out there on the floor. It was one thing to stand up for what I believed in, another to make a fool of myself by showing my lack of rhythm.

I scanned the sea of faces and saw one person I knew, someone else standing off to the side. But Roy Aarons had a big old grin on his face as he surveyed the crowd. He took it all in — the laughter, the loudness, the immenseness — before he turned and walked on.

For a few years, that’s the image I had of Roy: a man who left the dancing to others. But now, as I think about the pioneering editor who died this week at age 70, I realize that’s not quite right. He lived his life pulling all of us into the dance and encouraging us to find our own groove.

In 1989, Roy, then executive editor of the Oakland Tribune, agreed to coordinate a survey of gay and lesbian journalists for the American Society of Newspaper Editors. As he presented the results of that survey in April 1990 at the ASNE national convention, Roy came out, becoming the first journalist at his level to publicly say he was gay.

He took a lot of risks in doing so. In a business where many hold as the highest standard the ability to disconnect from the world, Roy made the most intimate connection. He wanted the industry to see that the obligations of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender journalists to be accurate, honest and fair did not mean living lives that were hermetically sealed, sanitized for society’s protection.

It was a bracing message to take in. I was a 26-year-old copy editor in Indiana when I responded to the ASNE survey. It quoted me, anonymously, as I revealed my truth: “While I have come out to my managing editor and one of my superiors is gay, I would not feel comfortable having to come in every day and battling the attitudes of many small-minded colleagues.”

By the summer of 1992, I would come out to those same folks, telling them I was headed to San Francisco to attend the convention of the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association. I didn’t know then that it would become an annual event; all I knew was that a few hundred people like me were gathering to discuss our role in the industry, and I had to be there.

As NLGJA founder, Roy pulled thousands of people into this dance of work and life. At least as important, he made sure no one was a wallflower — he encouraged us to talk with our heterosexual colleagues and dedicate ourselves to work through issues. As I began to do so, I realized my colleagues were not the only ones who were small-minded. My fears and reluctance had made me so, too.

In a little more than a decade, NLGJA became an organization of 1,200 members. Roy and I worked together on its educators committee and its national board of directors. He coordinated a panel discussion on journalism education at the 2001 convention, which I co-chaired in Dallas. He continually prodded, suggesting leadership roles and asking me to consider them. This was his way: He would not force you out on the floor but simply extend his hand.

In that way, he reached out to the world. Many of us found the invitation too irresistible to reject.

I used to think Roy’s flow of e-mail and periodic phone calls were routine networking. But I can see now how he was constantly calling folks to be part of the gathering, to hear the beat. As the author of the book “Prayers for Bobby,” he shared the pain of a gay teen who killed himself and the courage of a mother who wondered how life could have been different. As an educator at the University of Southern California, he encouraged communications schools to think beyond race
and sex in their explorations of diversity.

At NLGJA’s 10th anniversary convention in San Francisco, I finally saw Roy dance. This time, he was in the spotlight, surrounded by hundreds of men and women — gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and heterosexual.

As Roy turns and walks on, he has left a industry and society less afraid to step out.

From Mary Ann Hogan

2004-12-02T07:39:00.000-08:00

Mary Ann Hogan

Much of the journalism world will remember Leroy Aarons as a warrior for newsroom diversity. I will remember him as my first and finest mentor, a storied member of the Eastern media elite who gave it all up to come to our rickety newsroom in Oakland, to make us, a lot of us, believe.

It was 1983, and everything about The Oakland Tribune was rickety -- the elevators, the Christmas parties, the paper’s piggy bank. But Bob Maynard, the new owner-publisher, didn’t care. He was on a mission to prove you could do quality journalism on a shoestring, in a building with sloping floors, with a staff full of doubters. All you needed was passion.

In came Roy Aarons.

Much like Maynard himself, Roy didn’t so much enter rooms as he did fill them up. He didn’t so much work with reporters as he did tame skeptics, anoint learners and recruit fellow seekers. His truest gift, among the many, was his endless belief in the Possible. And if you could ask him now, I’m sure he would say that is why he joined Maynard’s crusade, leaving behind his stints at Time, People, The Washington Post, his parties with Katharine Graham, his stories on the war in Israel and on John Lennon and Jesus.

From the moment Roy stepped into our midst, stories were no longer assigned; they were Aaronized, a phenomenon that could terrify and vex as much as inspire. To wit, the day President Reagan announced he was getting a hearing aid. Roy, hell-bent on our being the first and last word on it all, pronounced:

“I don’t just want a story on hearing aids - I want the whole schema on hearing aids!” Up went the hands to sculpt out the airy dimensions of schema (Dimensions: infinite by infinite). “I want the history of hearing aids, the sociology of hearing aids ... I want pictures! I want diagrams!”

And when did he want it, I asked, figuring Aarons would say something like next week, or even Sunday. I was a feature writer, accustomed to getting some time to think.

Roy’s Michelangelo jaw tensed. Up went the hands. “Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Tomorrow! This is a neewwspaper, Baby!”

And then he danced -- literally danced -- away.

My husband, who was Roy’s managing editor in Oakland, told an obit writer that Aarons “was American journalism's best chance of proving that perpetual motion was possible. His energy was invigorating and liberating."

To me, that captures the essence of Roy’s presence in our newsroom, but with a twist. While he invigorated and liberated us (and sometimes drove us nuts) with big ideas and boundless hope, we in turn, invigorated and liberated him by not blinking once at who he was outside of the newsroom: A gay man who had fallen in love with a young Israeli financier named Joshua Boneh, with whom he was building a life.

In an extraordinary interview last year with Aissatou Sidime-David on the Chips Quinn Web site, Roy explained:

“When we moved to California in 1983, some people knew I was gay, but not a lot. I joined the Tribune, and said to myself, ‘I am not going to one more newspaper job in this country and hide my life under a barrel.’ So, very shortly after I arrived, I held a reception at our home for the staff. They all showed up, and there was Josh and I greeting them at the top of the steps. And I was out.”

We would learn later -- because he told us -- that for all his journalistic success in the Eastern establishment, Roy painstakingly hid his homosexuality and lived in fear that he would be found out, his career ruined. He would tell us that part of his decision to join Bob in Oakland was to do great journalism, but to do it, for the first time in his life, on his terms - living fully and openly with his partner, and inviting his colleagues to share his happiness.

Roy often said that the richness of the life he lived in Oakland -- the intertwining of his personal and professional selves -- gave him the courage to stand up at the now famous 1990 ASNE convention, and tell the assembled that he was proud of the group’s survey on gays and lesbians in newsrooms, proud, not just as an editor, “but as a gay man.” With that, he started a revolution.

Bob Maynard died in 1993 of prostate cancer, after selling the Tribune to Dean Singleton’s Alameda Newspaper Group -- and, not incidentally, after winning the 1990 Pulitzer Prize for news photography. Roy -- who died Sunday night after a long fight with bladder cancer -- left the Trib soon after his national coming out. He founded the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association, and as his six-person group became 1,200, he went on to write books, plays and operas, to sing, to garden, to play, to mentor the young, to grow older with Josh.

But during that particular time, in that particular place, Roy and Bob were what journalism could be, should be -- without bitterness or cheapness, without corporate hammerlock, without the systemic fear of being radical, wonderful, full of surprises. People who believed in themselves, and in you.

We can honor them by dwelling where they walked, in the Possible.

From Erna Smith, News Watch Director

2004-12-02T07:34:00.000-08:00

Erna Smith
News Watch Director

The first time I heard of Leroy Aarons was when I was cub reporter on the Waco Tribune-Herald in 1975. He ran a job search service called JobNet for “minority journalists,” as we called ourselves then. I assumed, as many others did, that he was a brother. Who else but a black man is named Leroy?

Fourteen years later, I met Roy in person when he hired me to work for the summer on the copy desk of the Oakland Tribune after I accepted a position to teach journalism at San Francisco State University.

We’d chatted on the telephone a few times before we met face to face. To me, he sounded like a New Yorker, which is to say his accent betrayed his geographical fault line but nothing more. So you could have knocked me over with a feather when this slender, white-haired and well-dressed white man bounded across the newsroom like an overgrown puppy to greet me.

“Erna, I’m Roy Aarons,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

A few days later he took me to lunch where he wolfed down his food as if he hadn’t eaten in days and talked to me, or rather at me, as if we were old friends. Afterward, I raced to keep up with him as he charged back to the Tribune with a mustard stain on his elegant tie, courtesy of his unique brand of power lunching.

Roy Aarons will be remembered in journalism history for founding the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association in 1990. But long before he bust open the closet for countless lesbian and gay journalists in newsrooms across America and, even the world, he worked tirelessly to break through the color line for countless African American, Latino, Asian and Native American journalists.

He was, quite literally, everybody’s brother and that is his legacy to us.

From Ellen Maremont Silver

2004-12-02T07:12:00.000-08:00

Ellen Maremont Silver
Sebastopol, CA

My partner Robyn and I had lived in Sonoma County, CA about a year when I got a call from Digital Queers, a high tech association. Someone needed help with his computer. I wasn't all that technically adept, but I was able to help Roy Aarons, and, much to our mutual delight, we both had a new friendship: another queer Jew, right in our town of Sebastopol!

In the past 10 years, my relationship with Roy has been as much professional as personal. Once he recruited me to be on the Board of We the People--and oh, Roy was a masterful recruiter to any cause he chose--we worked closely together for the next three years. There are so many ups and downs with LGBT publications: not enough money, not enough staff, too many drama queens and too many hats for each person to wear. But Roy didn't dwell on obstacles. He saw them clearly, and then charged through. His was a strategy of a survivor, and it served him and all of us very well.

I also wrote for We the People. It¹s the kind of paper with lots of reviewers and columnists, and not nearly enough reporters, most of us with little or no formal journalism training. One night several of us gathered in the kitchen at the Aarons/Boneh home while Roy taught a 2-hour Journalism 101. He helped us with the basics because he had great vision for the paper, always pushing everyone involved to improve. We were so very fortunate to have this national talent drop into the middle of our rural county. My sense was that he took We the People as seriously as all the great papers he worked on.

Roy had great vision for all of life. What I experienced was his tireless passion for making the world a better place through pursuit of his personal interests: journalism, politics, LGBT rights, his Jewish heritage, music, travel, and always, his love for his partner Joshua.

From Gary North

2004-12-01T18:20:00.000-08:00

Gary North
Senior News Editor, Variety/Daily Variety

For a long time I've been grateful for and awed by Roy's life and accomplishments, not the least of which, of course, was the founding of NLGJA. But right from the start, being the uppity bi person I am, it stuck in my craw that the B word wasn't in the organization's name -- which, admittedly, already was too cumbersome, so why complain? Nonetheless, I made a point to bring it to his attention (and others) -- and he gave me a full hearing, though he seemed somewhat defensive. Later, with Elizabeth Weise, we brought it up again at a confab session. Given folks' reaction in the room, I thought: Oh, well, it was worth a try, but nothing will come of this. Not long after, however, the organization adopted a revised mission statement. You can see it on the homepage of NLGJA and on its literature: There's the B word and the T word right along with the G and L words. I don't think that would have happened without Roy's active support and acceptance. I also had the humble privilege and honor of working with him from time to time in L.A., but even more I treasure the memory of the personal conversations we occasionally had; I remember thinking: Here's the former executive editor of a major newspaper, an accomplished longtime journalist with the Washington Post and other major publications, a co-founder of the Maynard Institute, an author and librettist -- and he has time to philosophize with little ol' me?! Awesome. And forever inspiring -- a role model of the highest order.

From NLGJA National Board Member Geoff Dankert

2004-12-01T18:18:00.000-08:00

Geoff Dankert
WFLD Chicago
NLGJA National Board Member

A lot of our colleagues have memories of working side-by-side with Roy, either in the trenches of daily deadline journalism or in the beginning stages of what we all now know as NLGJA. My lasting memory of Roy involves a hot tub in Las Vegas. From my first meeting with Roy at our Washington DC convention in 1995, to the time he called me at home and personally asked me to become a chapter leader, I've always had this image of Roy as a mythic figure who deigned to walk among the rest of us ... I mean, he was the guy who started it all. Then came our Las Vegas convention in 1998. The night before the official start, Roy joined about a dozen of us in one of the resort's outdoor hot tubs. He was laughing, joking and telling stories ... his mischievous smile spreading across his face like the Cheshire cat's. It was a side of Roy I had never seen outside of board rooms and welcome receptions. He'd always been friendly and warm to me, but it was refreshing to see him with his guard down, at least a little. It gave me a new appreciation for him -- and helped me round out my image of him, to which I suspect few people could measure up. It'll be years before we can adequately measure Roy's impact on our profession, and I'm part of the generation of NLGJA leaders who have him to thank for our involvement. But as we all pause this week to remember Roy's impact on our lives, and mourn with Josh and the rest of his family, that night in Las Vegas is the memory I'll keep foremost in my mind -- and it won't fail to make me smile.

From Dan Woog

2004-12-01T11:10:00.000-08:00

Dan Woog

No human being on this planet had a more profound effect on my professional life than Roy Aarons. My coming-out process coincided with the birth of NLGJA. Knowing that such an organization existed affected me deeply -- and gave me the courage to come out to my colleagues, and in my newspaper column. The six books I wrote on gay athletes, gay issues in education, gays in the workplace and straight allies, would never have happened unless Roy had been in my life, in the right place at the right time.

I attended the first 10 NLGJA conventions, and seeing Roy always lifted my spirits. He enjoyed himself -- and his extended NLGJA family -- so much. He was a role model for living life to the fullest, and growing old gracefully. But the best convention of all was the very first, in San Francisco. The energy at that Holiday Inn on Van Ness was palpable. It was a combination of incredible freedom, for so many journalists to be so out and so together, mixed with a hint of anxiety over who might walk through that door and see us there. Roy was omnipresent -- encouraging, commiserating, cajoling, pushing and pulling each of us, while simultaneously doing the same thing with his fledgling organization.

And when it was all over, that Sunday morning, we rode the cable car down to Market Street, for the Pride Parade. Forty of us marched, a bit trepidatiously at first because we had no idea what kind of reception a group of gay journalists would get. The answer came quickly: raucous. We marched proudly, laughing, waving, making up chants as we went along ("We're here, we're queer, we're on deadline"; "We schmooze, we cruise, and then we write the news..."). And proudest of all, leading the pack, was Roy Aarons.

Roy Aarons made a direct impact on thousands of lives, and an indirect one on millions. He is a true hero of mine.

Reflections on Roy's Impact on Journalism

2004-12-01T09:44:00.000-08:00

Tom Brokaw was a friend of Aaron's for more than forty years, ever since they both served as correspondents in Los Angeles in the 1960's, Tom for NBC, Roy for the Washington Post.

"Roy was a dashing reporter on the West Coast for the Washington Post and as agreeable a companion as you could possibly have, as well-versed as he was in everything from politics to culture to the California scene,'' said longtime friend and former colleague Tom Brokaw of NBC News. ``His commitment to gay issues helped raise the consciousness of the entire country.''

Arthur O. Sulzberger, Jr.
Chairman and Publisher of The New York Times

"For a while, it's fair to say, the Times and NLGJA were not close, but we got close as his organization and mine found a common bond and a common sense of urgency. It happened because we at the Times saw those gay and lesbian members of our company wanted to become free and open people. It wasn’t a hard issue once we got our head wrapped around it…"

"Roy was not only a great leader and great spokesman for gays and lesbians in the journalism game, but he was also a good man and a good friend. I learned an enormous amount from him about his values and a lot of that is reflected in the values of The New York Times. ... There's no question that Roy was an important force in journalism."

On the importance of NLGJA:

"One can hope that it will be less and less necessary as time goes on, but the NLGJA was important because it brought focus, energy and drive to an issue that is was then and remains one of the fundamental human life issues we're still grappling with."

Robert G. Kaiser
Associate Editor, The Washington Post
Former Managing Editor, The Washington Post

"Roy Aarons was a pioneer on many frontiers. He was The Washington Post's first New York correspondent, then The Post's first Los Angeles correspondent. He helped define an approach to coverage of the country that survives at the paper to this day. As Bob Maynard's editor, he fought a valiant fight to save an independent journalistic voice in the Bay Area with the Oakland Tribune. But perhaps Roy's biggest contribution was the creation of the National Lesbian & Gay Journalists Association a dozen years ago. By doing this Roy created a community, a peer group for gay journalists across America that gave them a sense of worth and dignity that cannot be measured with any statistics, but which had a profound effect on thousands of lives. I was privileged to attend one of its first conventions, and saw there for myself how the NLGJA legitimized, supported and enthused young people, particularly from small communities across America. The NLGJA is Roy's monument, and I expect it to endure for a long time."

Andrew Tobias
Treasurer of the Democratic National Committee

"Roy Aarons was one of those largely unsung heroes who really did as much as anyone I can think of to advance understanding and equality. Long before there were budgets or fundraisers for his National Lesbian & Gay Journalists Association, he went from newsroom to newsroom, editorial board to editorial board and, at the highest levels, opened eyes and minds to what had, up until then, been a largely invisible issue. The impact of that -- the leverage -- was enormous. Once places like the New York Times and Wall Street Journal and the major networks "got it," an open discussion began, and fair-minded Americans responded as they always do, and we became a better nation for it. Roy would be the first to say we have yet a way to go; but he gave this effort a tremendous push."

Leonard Downie
Executive Editor, The Washington Post

“Roy was an editor on the City Desk here when I arrived as a summer intern in 1964. He was at once very professional and full of fun, cynical and sensitive. He championed NLGJA vigorously in the industry, quickly earning it a full place at the table of journalists' organizations. I'll miss him very much.”

Robert Murphy,
Senior Vice President, ABC News

“Roy was above all a great journalist whose passion for our profession will always be what comes to mind first when thinking of him. Personally I will remember him as a mentor and friend who taught us the value of the contribution we could make to our newsrooms as openly gay journalists. He also provided the leadership that gave many of us the courage to join our personal and professional lives. For that we will be forever grateful.”

From Bob Witeck, NLGJA National Board Member

2004-11-30T17:00:00.000-08:00

Bob Witeck
CEO, Witeck-Combs Communications
NLGJA National Board Member

Where can I start?

It would be high falutin to say Roy was the 'eminence grise' within NLGJA, since he was so much more down to earth. A force, a goat, a mensch, a pillar, a man in love with language and friends and shaking things up. I will remember especially the way his eyes laughed when he was dazzlingly happy. And how much NLGJA made him dazzlingly happy.

What I can never forget and always expressed my own thanks to Roy was really deeply personal, not professional and had nothing to do with NLGJA specifically. Six years ago I happened to be attending a conference in Oakland, and Roy made a point to drive there so we could enjoy breakfast together. However, circumstances changed dramatically when I received a call that my father was near-death at his nursing home in McLean, Virginia and I needed to get to a flight home immediately. Roy never missed a beat, and gathered me up and took me right to the airport and we both spent the time talking about our fathers and partners and families. Simple enough and caring enough, and it made it possible for me to catch a flight and to be home with my father 45 minutes before he passed away.

And until now, with his own death, Roy was certainly the master of timing including the birth of NLGJA. I am so grateful for him and always grateful to him.

From Darrel Adams, Former NLGJA National Board Member

2004-11-30T11:02:00.000-08:00

Darrel Adams
News Director/Executive Editor, Waterman Broadcasting
Former NLGJA National Board Member

It was with great sadness I learned of Roy's passing this morning. My thoughts are with you, the board and staff. Roy gave courage to many a young gay journalist who aren't so young any more.

From Jim Harper, Former NLGJA National Board Member

2004-11-30T10:43:00.000-08:00

Jim Harper
Freelance Writer and Editor, Tampa, FL
Former NLGJA National Board Member

In 1989 I was night city editor of the St. Petersburg Times, secure in my career after more than a dozen years of reporting and column-writing. And yet, I had to wait till the newsroom was almost empty one evening before I could go to the bulletin board and retrieve the ASNE survey of gay and lesbian journalists that Roy Aarons had sent around. I didn't want just anybody to know.

After a lot of factual questions, the survey asked: "In your opinion, what's the biggest obstacle impeding fair and accurate coverage of gay and lesbian issues?" I thought about that for awhile, then realized it was gay people's reluctance to be more open in the everyday discussions of our own newsrooms. At the end, there was a space to sign your name and job title. It was optional, of course. But I didn't see how I could contradict myself.

Back then, I didn't know Roy Aarons from Adam. I figured, though, if someone had enough guts, and diplomacy, to get the American Society of Newspaper Editors to put its imprimatur on a survey of lesbian and gay journalists, then maybe, just maybe, my one small name and on-the-record comments might be joined together with others and put to good use.

Were they ever!

Several years later, Roy recruited me to join the NLGJA's board of directors. Suddenly it fell to me to organize the program for one of our national conventions. I'd never done anything like it before. Roy coached me, guided me, sent me names of potential panelists, and gently chided me when I needed it. The program came together and I was able to bask in the convention's success. Like a good editor, Roy never asked for any credit.

Some time after that, Roy and his partner Josh came to Tampa/St. Pete to visit our local NLGJA chapter and to sign copies of Roy's new book, "Prayers for Bobby: A Mother's Coming to Terms with the Suicide of her Gay Son." At a restaurant later, it was my job to tally the dinner tab. "Your share is 88 bucks," I said to Roy and Josh. And then I looked at Roy and called him Papa.

He didn't miss the cue. In a voice that had all the brassiness, if not quite the tunefulness, of Tyne Daly or Ethel Merman, Roy picked up the next line from Gypsy: "All I need is 88 bucks, Papa."

As Roy Aarons knew, journalism will always be richer and truer with the unabashed presence of many kinds of people, including us Broadway queens.