Tributes to Neal Shine

April 3, 2007

Do you want to share a memory, anecdote or tribute to former Free Press Publisher Neal Shine? Send your signed e-mail to shinetributes@freepress.com. We’ll run the best of them here.

Journalism was not something I chose for a career. It was chosen for me by Father Bill Cunningham, my English teacher at Sacred Heart Seminary High School in the 1960s. Having left the seminary in 1969, I needed a paying job – and not just volunteering my time at Focus:HOPE, the civil rights organization Cunningham, Eleanor Josaitis and Father Jerome Fraser founded in 1968.

Somehow, Cunningham decided I might make a good journalist and decided to introduce me to his friend, Free Press City Editor Neal Shine, in a unique way. Neal’s father, Patrick Shine, was gravely ill and confined to bed at Neal and Phyllis’ house in Grosse Pointe.

Cunningham offered to say Mass at the home to ease Patrick Shine’s final few days and he asked me to help by playing guitar at the “folk Mass,” then still considered a somewhat radical departure from traditional Catholic Masses. Since my guitar playing was poor, Cunningham played it safe by also bringing along a real musician, fellow seminarian John Jabro.

The scene in their home was just as you would expect from a large, loving and fun Shine family, and I know they appreciated our efforts for a lively and moving celebration of the Eucharist.

Cunningham told me the next day to give Neal Shine a call and not to be afraid of his “gruff manner of speaking.” When I went to interview with him, I found him to be gruff, yes, but also interested in me as a person. He said, “You’ve got to be a good guy, because you’re with Focus:HOPE.” He hired me on the spot, but I had to wait until August 17, 1969, for an opening on the copyboy staff. I worked 40 hours a week while taking 16 credit hours at Wayne State University.

As a copyboy – and even later as a young reporter – I usually dressed casually in blue jeans and often got chewed out by one of the top newsroom editors, Kurt Luedtke. I’d comply for a few days and go back to casual dress. One hot summer day, I was wearing not only blue jeans, but a “muscle shirt” that exposed my skinny arms and flimsy chest. Shine spotted me and immediately said, “Take that off.” It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t kidding. So I stripped off the muscle shirt, while he unfastened his own shirt and tie. He handed them to me and told me to put them on. While I did so – swimming in his larger size shirt – Shine pulled the muscle shirt on, clearly filling it out better than I could. I believe he wore it through that afternoon’s news meeting before we swapped back. Suitably embarrassed, I never wore that shirt again.

Neal Shine’s interest in children’s issues always has been apparent and he encouraged me in 1987 when I asked to cover juvenile justice full time beginning in January 1988 after the state opened the juvenile courts to the public. Quickly, I learned how complex the child welfare system is and the issues presented by children who are abused, neglected and delinquent. In 1993, Neal Shine started the Children First project, a campaign to highlight issues affecting children with a staff of three or four reporters and its own editor. While the campaign is less prominent now, the Free Press never has abandoned its commitment to writing stories to highlight areas of child welfare where we as a society must do better.

The Free Press has allowed me to cover this beat all these years – the only newspaper I am aware of that has a full-time juvenile justice reporter. I am sure that has helped to keep many children from harm.

And that’s another legacy of my friend and mentor, Neal Shine.

--Jack Kresnak, Free Press reporter

When I was an information officer for the Museum of African American History in the early 1990s, I wrote and edited the newsletter. As customary, I sent many copies out into the community. I sent one to Neal Shine at the Free Press. To my absolute surprise and delight, he sent me a note, which I have saved all these years, that complimented the newsletter. I saved the note and put it in my portfolio. I still have the note, which I will always cherish.

I also met him briefly once at a function, And just as I've read in the many tributes from his friends, coworkers and even strangers, I felt his genuine friendliness and sincerity. He was very approachable and put you at ease. In that one meeting with him, I felt a connection with him. And so, even though many years have passed, when I read that he had passed away last week, I was truly affected. I felt like someone close to me had died. I felt a major sense of loss. I can't even imagine how his family will cope without him.

I'm left feeling as though I have missed out on something special -- someone special. Reading all the tributes has touched my heart. I have downloaded the tribute booklet and will keep it as well, to remind me that I was once blessed to briefly meet and speak with a truly decent, kind and caring human being -- a real journalist from the old school -- who prided himself on getting the facts and conducting himself and his newspaper with integrity.

They don't make 'em like Mr. Shine anymore and that's so sad for those of us left behind. I offer my heartfelt condolences to his family.
May God Bless Mr. Shine.


Sincerely,
Lenda Warren Jackson

My mother always told me that one of the best things that happened at the Free Press was the day Neal Shine began working there. She enjoyed working with him and working for him. Most newspaper reporters have at least a quart of printers ink in their blood stream. Mr Shine had two gallons. My condolences to the entire Shine family.

Laura Kilpatrick Harrison, daughter of Laurena Pringle (Free Press 1930s-1970s), Royal Oak

I came to Detroit in 1971 and learned all about this town I love and call home from Neal Shine. I will forever be grateful for all he taught me about this great town I love - Detroit!

Luz Maria Robinson

My family moved onto Bedford when I was five years old, which meant that I grew up two doors down from the Shines. It was a neighborhood where every neighborhood mom treated you like their own and every neighborhood father was an amazing character; larger than life.

There were 17 kids to play with between the first four houses on our block, so there was no need to go anywhere else. The Shine’s house was in the middle of our houses and was the center of all activity. What ever sport was in season, we were playing it at the Shine’s house.

My favorite memory of Mr. Shine usually occurred during early evening basketball games on their driveway. You would hear a car pull up, door slam and the following words: “feed me, I’m HOT!!!” The ball was quickly passed it to Mr. Shine so he could take his 50 foot jump shot. And when it didn’t make it, you would hear it again: “feed me; feed me, I’m HOT!!!”

I was fortunate to learn a few things from Mr. Shine, especially:

• Jefferson Ave. had four lanes, not three. And only those “experienced” drivers with the ability (and vocabulary) could pass in the far, far right lane.
• Never arrive late to the tailgate, especially if you’re the one bringing the beverages.
• Treat everyone like they were your own brother or child.

Mr. Shine was a character, larger than life, and I’m thankful that the Shines have been a part of my life.

Chris Gibne, Shorewood, Minn.

Cancer couldn't stop Neal from giving one last gift to us all. Reading these tributes every day since his death, it strikes me that Neal treated every one of us as special. I thought I had a special relationship with him. And I think I did. But I now realize that everyone else did, too. That was one of his great gifts. And a rare one.

I met Neal through Focus:HOPE in 1968. He served as a most valuable adviser, encouraging us to help change his beloved city after the devastating summer of '67 while deflating our crusader's sense of self importance when we needed it. When Father Bill Cunningham was suspended by the Archdiocese of Detroit for a canonical infraction, some of us were filled with righteous indignation. Neal, however, simply dashed off this quick note, "Bill, an Irishman needs his ass kicked every day. Enjoy the time off."

Over the years, I attended Neal's dad's funeral and later, his mother's. I remember being surprised that he was so grateful that I came. I was just a kid who worked at Focus:HOPE. Then in 1997, it was Neal's turn to console me at the hospital moments after Father Bill Cunningham died. And in 2000, when four members of my family were killed in a car accident, I was again the grateful one when Neal and Phyllis came to the funeral home. Visibly shaken by the sight of four caskets in one room, Neal put his hand on my shoulder, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Bidleman, we've gotta stop meeting like this." Pain, compassion, humor and perspective in one compact sentence. He couldn't have said anything I needed to hear more nor loved me any better in that terrible moment. I will always remember that.

I've decided not to fly home for Neal's funeral. I'd rather give the plane fare to Focus:HOPE because you're right, Neal, we've got to stop meeting like this.

-- Carl Bidleman
San Francisco

To the Free Press staff:

I'm so sorry about your loss. Neal Shine was a lovely man and a metro Detroit treasure.

I'd love to share the anecdote below -- but, if you decide you want to print it, would you please not use my name? Instead, please refer to me as "P. A., Carmel, Indiana."

My daughter, now 13, is an only child and would die of embarrassment if people knew she was the squirmy toddler in question!

Here is our Neal Shine story:

A decade ago at the Grand Hotel during the Greater Detroit Chamber Conference on Mackinac Island, my husband and daughter were having lunch. My husband had been taking care of our (then) 2-year-old for the entire day while I was in business meetings, and probably richly deserved the beer he ordered with his burger. Our little girl, who was overdue for her nap, saw my husband's beverage arrive and began chanting "Beer! Beer! Beer!" loudly enough for other guests to hear.

My husband, conscious that the restaurant was full of high-profile business leaders and elected officials, was mortified and vainly attempted to quiet her chant until their food came.

After a few minutes, Mr. Shine, who was seated at the next table, leaned over and whispered into my husband's ear.

"Why don't you get her a beer?" he asked with a wink, before patting my husband on the shoulder and grinning.

My husband deeply appreciated Mr. Shine's warmth and empathy. The laugh they shared helped everyone relax and made my husband's day. We still chuckle about the incident even though my daughter is now a well-behaved young lady who knows the legal drinking age is 21.

I had the extreme pleasure of crossing paths with Neal a couple of decades ago when I toiled on the copy desk at the Freep.

My slot on the desk was just outside his office door for a couple of years. He was the managing editor then, and a steady stream of editors and reporters trouped in and out. They rarely knocked, and my recollection was that almost everyone left with a bounce in their step and a smile on their face.

As a matter of fact, I can’t ever recall seeing Neal without a smile on his face.

I didn’t think much about it then, but I’ve thought a lot about it since I heard the news last week that Neal had passed away.

The tributes have poured in from far and wide about his kindness, his keen sense of humor and his absolute dedication to the craft that he loved. He was truly one of the good guys, and I doubt there’s a single soul who could say otherwise. In my mind the Free Press and Neal Shine were synonymous.

My job didn’t put me in close contact with Neal. The copy desk was not a direct part of his day-to-day realm. Because of that, I’d guess that the sum of my brief contacts with him in the course of four years may have totaled about an hour.

Several years after leaving the Free Press for what I thought were greener pastures, I was looking for a job. I put my feelers out, sent out my resume, and even tried to land a job back at the Freep. But times were tight at both the News and Free Press just prior to the JOA. There was a hiring freeze, and there were no downtown newspaper jobs open for anyone.

Then one night I got a phone call from out of the blue offering me a magazine job. I hadn’t applied for it, and it wasn’t even on my radar. And I certainly didn’t know that an unseen mentor was looking out for me.

“How did you get my name?” I asked as my future boss practically hired me sight unseen.

“Neal Shine told me to give you a call.”

That job lasted more than 20 years, on a reference from a guy that I thought barely knew me.

Thanks Neal for the vote of confidence those many years ago for me and for the countless others who were touched by your kind soul.

-- Mike Arnholt
Editor, View Newspapers, Lapeer
(Free Press copy editor 1976-80)

We would like to express our sympathy to the family of Mr. Shine. Our oldest son, William Aloysius Petrick, was fortunate to count Mr. Shine among his teachers and mentors in Journalism.

Mr. Shine shared his knowledge, wit, and wonderful Irish humor with our Bill. For this we are very appreciative.

We are also grateful that, after our beloved Bill died suddenly and under tragic circumstances, Mr. Shine took the time to send us a letter of sympathy. May God bless him for his compassion and may their souls rest in peace ... until we meet again in God's Light.

-- William (Sr.), Mary Jane and Nick Petrick

I met Neal about 20 years ago when I was the editor/publisher of the Michigan Financial Journal.

We would bump into each other at a local restaurant much to the chagrin of our wives. We would talk news, markets, ideas and what to do about the Web.

Neal Shine and Ben Burns, I consider two of the best in the business and friendly to all. Our young writers should take note of what you can do by being friendly and honest.

-- Carl Meyering, former editor/publisher

The Michigan Business and Professional Association and our sister organization, the Michigan Food and Beverage Association, were saddened to learn of the passing of former Detroit Free Press Publisher Neal Shine. We have had the privilege of working with Mr. Shine in so many areas for the good of our community, and our sorrow is shared by our more than 21,000 members throughout the State of Michigan.

The vibrancy and success of Detroit was Neal Shine's top priority and he expressed his enthusiasm about this topic everywhere he went. We were thrilled to be a part of his vision and honored to have worked with him for so many years.

Neal was a strong supporter of our Metro Detroit Youth Day from the very beginning. This coming July we will have more than 30,000 youngsters on hand and give out 40 college scholarships.

-- Edward Deeb
President
Michigan Business & Professional Association
Michigan Food and Beverage Association
Cofounder, Metro Detroit Youth Day

I was sorry to read about the passing of Neal Shine today. About 20 years ago, right around this time, Neal was collecting all that baseball equipment for those kids in the Dominican Republic. I donated the glove that my dad gave to me just before he died because it was a good cause, I was a lousy baseball player, and Neal was a good and godly man who you wanted to help.

What was really cool was taking the glove up to Neal's office and leaving a note to let him know I dropped the glove off.

It was Good Friday and hardly anyone was in the Detroit Free Press newsroom and Neal Shine's office was empty. I didn't have a pen but Neal had one on his desk that was taped to a note from Lee Iacocca thanking him for his help on the Ellis Island Project. So I untaped the pen, wrote my note, and put the pen back. After all, it was Good Friday!

I never stopped enjoying his column and even though I have lived in Chicago since 1991, I try and read the Free Press online whenever I can. I live on Addison, the same street as Wrigley Field and every time I see the Cubs play and there is a player from the Dominican Republic up to bat, I think back to Neal and that glove drive. My glove probably didn't help anyone get to the majors, but it's nice to think it might have. Detroit has lost its best citizen, a man who loved Detroit no matter what and who never gave up on the town. God Bless Neal Shine!

Thanks,
--Dan Boland, Chicago IL.

Neal Shine was publisher when I first arrived at the Freep as a copyboy in 1995. As Shine prepared for his retirement, he had one request for his final newspaper column: to include a picture of all the copyboys, because that's how he got his start in the business. That moment was a testament to who he was -- a man with heart and who appreciated everyone's role in getting the newspaper out every day. He was definitely one of the good guys.

-- David Graves, copyboy 1995-97

Many years ago, a small bronze statue of Abe Lincoln was stolen from behind the downtown Detroit Library, but fortunately was recovered somewhat damaged. Neal Shine took it upon himself to solicit donations in the form of Abe Lincoln pennies from area school children for the restoration effort. The response was overwhelming, with old Abe being refreshed and installed at a dedication ceremony that included an amateur brass band playing Civil War era "backard-blaster" instruments.

The experience was truly vintage Neal Shine, and one that I will always remember.

-- Alex Pollock AIA/AICP
City of Detroit

I worked at the Free Press under Mr. Shine for approximately 18 years. Well, perhaps that is a little misleading. I was primarily located on the 2nd floor Circulation and Neal on the Editorial 3rd floor. His physical presence was not confined within Editorial and his influence as a great man permeated the floors of 321 W. Lafayette and beyond the building's walls.

It was very sad to read of his passing. I can still see his smile and hear a sincere, "Hi. How's it going?", as we exchanged passing greetings in the hallway.

Reading the tributes and timelines of Neal's life made me realize how much he cherished his work. I also realize for the first time I was part of a great newspaper's history. Looking back through his words and the years, I can see it was more than just a stressful job, working the wee hours of the night, holidays and weekends. I was part of an old tradition of newspaper people working as a team (editors, reporters, composing room, press room, mail room, truck drivers, district managers, paper carriers and finally the readers). For the first time I feel my years at the Free Press were time well spent and through this teamwork and camaraderie made a difference to the people of Detroit.

So you see Mr. Shine, your good influence is still upon us. God be with you, your wife, and your wonderful family.

-- John Cicala
Detroit Free Press, Transportation Dept. 1974-93

I remember little of my college professors, hardly a few names. Some 25 years ago I was a recent college graduate starting my working life as a salesman. I took an evening extension class at Oakland University taught by Mr. Shine. He was a pure delight, a natural teacher. I remember thinking at the time, that if I had run into him a few years earlier, I would be working for him! I would have chosen journalism as a major.

-- Bill Rice
Modiin Illit, Israel

I knew Neal and his family for about 20 years, from weddings to grandchildren.

I can say if you had a problem, it was important, a joke, it was important, a story in your own life, he listened. The mornings I will truly miss. The true sincerity of listening to what I had to say about my own family and the laughter of the morning I will miss. Sometimes he would be writing and stop and share a story that always had some meaning to what was happening that day. The stories I will miss. The lessons I learned from this family is priceless.

He was a true king in this city that made everyone feel special. I am a better person today for knowing this man and his family, which they have made me feel a part of .

Thank you Neal for all the Fridays,and thank you Phyllis for continuing to make me and my family a part of yours....

Mickey Wrona

I met Neal Shine when I was 18. He was my Grandad's first cousin, and as we live in England, it was the first time I had been able to met him. I will always remember that day, it was a day for the whole family to meet him and his brothers Bill and Jimmy.

I was interested to get into the media industry, and as he was very successful in that area, I thought who better to ask? At first I was a bit wary, as I had never met him before and I didn't want to intrude on his day, but straight away, he made me feel comfortable, and I could ask him anything.

He took me aside from the jokes and laughter of the family to talk to me there and then. I asked him, "What advice would you give to me, to get into the field of media?" He simply answered, "Get a degree, and once you have it, come and see me."

Unfortunately, I still have one more year left of my degree, and I won't be
able to see him and thank him. However, I will always remember that day. I
thought he was amazing, it's strange to think I had only met this man once,
but in that short afternoon, he helped me make the biggest decision of my
life. I followed his advice, and I am studying Digital Media at University.

I am so happy for that day, to have had the honour to meet such a loving and
respected man.

Francesca Shine, England

I was introduced to the Free Press in the last half of my senior year of high school (1984) at Suttons Bay in Current Events class. The only texts we had were the Freep on a daily basis and U.S. News and World Report every week. I have been a regular Freep reader ever since.

In June of 1994 I wrote an op-ed piece for the Traverse City Record-Eagle Forum on computerizing the voting process and taking our democracy back from the lobbyists, and was quite honored when the Record-Eagle published it on the 50th anniversary of D-Day. A friend of mine who grew up in Detroit and was living up here at the time called me 3 or 4 days later and told me that his father had seen the piece reprinted in the Freep. I was amazed, and about as proud as I'd ever been in my life, but unfortunately I never did get a copy of that issue. Considering his position at the paper at the time, his hand had to have been in there somewhere to help make that happen.

Everything I've read in the paper and online about his passing does nothing but reinforce the feeling I had from reading his columns that he was an incredibly passionate, generous and funny human being, and largely thanks to him, I will be a Free Press man until my time comes.

My sincere condolences to his family, the Free Press staff, and everyone whom he touched during his time on earth.


-- Frank Harden, Jr.
Sugar Loaf, Mich.

Neal Shine was like coming home. Maybe it was because he was the head of a large brood, and I was the baby of another. Maybe it was because we shared a passion for a crazy business. Most likely it was just Neal, with his open heart, open arms and bottomless portfolio of perfect stories for every occasion.

Neal's appearances lit up the newsroom -- even the new one down the street in which he never worked and in which many journalists knew him only by legend. Still they followed him around like he was the Pied Piper. The minute Neal Shine was spotted in the building, the buzz spread even quicker. Everyone wanted to catch a piece of him: the twinkling eye, the warm smile, the hearty handshake and heartier laugh. A pat on the back from Neal could make all the headaches that come with newspapering dissipate in an instant. And if he opened his arms to envelop you in one of his bear hugs, suddenly the world righted itself and everything felt good again.

I was lucky enough to get to know Neal and Phyllis and their daughter Peggy through my friendship with his son Dan and Dan's wife Kim, who just adored him. No matter how much time passed between seeing them, every time felt like coming home to a little bit of family in a town where I had none. Neal was one of those people who squeezed every drop of juice out of life and inspired you seize the important moments just as fiercely.

When I decided to take a leave from the Free Press to tend to my own aging parents, my single biggest regret was I didn't get to say goodbye to Neal and Phyllis, who'd sought out the warm sunshine Michigan so rarely delivers in the middle of winter. There's even less of that sunshine now that Neal's gone, but make no mistake, the next big story the Free Press breaks, the warmth of Neal's beaming smile will fall like sunshine over downtown Detroit.

Boy will we miss him. But we were so damn lucky to know him.

-- Becca Rothschild
Free Press deputy editorial page editor, 1998-2007

It’s been many years since I rode the elevator up to the third floor at 321 W. Lafayette to start my workday as a Free Press copyboy, but I remember them well. Just last week I was talking to my brother-in- law about Neal and my days as a copyboy at the Free Press. I was telling him about my first day on the job. Standing next to the copyboy desk, I was looking in the direction of the big glass wall of his office, and newspapers were flying everywhere. For whatever reason, he had picked up the stack of papers on his desk and tossed them in the air. Shortly after, he walks out of his office with that grin you soon grew to know. It was that grin that set me at ease and set the tone for the next three years that I worked there.

I saw Neal a couple of times through the years and he always remembered me. It’s unfortunate that you can’t go back and relive those years, because they were some of the best years of my life. I’m proud to say that I worked with him and the others in the city room. Those were incredible days for the media. We’ve lost an icon, but we can all still visit with him in our memories.

-- John Ellis
Free Press Copyboy, 1971-1974

In 1977, I took a class in journalism at Wayne. I was stunned that first day of class to have the editor of the Free Press as my professor. He was warm and encouraging in a way that I was impressed with. He projected intelligence but also a strong commitment to the community that he served. I almost got a copyperson job that I did not apply for, but because it was a holiday my younger sisters hogged the phone for the entire day so that his staff was unable to reach me. Mr. Shine made an impression on me and today whenever I write anything I know that his lessons have provided me with the tools I use to do the work.

-- Linda Givens

For 10 years, I had to share my wife, Vivian, with Neal. He was her boss when he served the Free Press as senior managing editor, and Vivian had the honor of serving in her capacity longer than any of her predecessors.

When we heard the news Tuesday, a full 18 years after Vivian left the paper, it was a true measure of Neal's deep and lasting impact on his profession and his community that we received no fewer than five telephone calls, asking if we had heard that he had died.

Our sincere condolences to Phyllis and the entire Shine clan.

-- Joe Giumette
Phoenix

The obits, tributes and articles claim that Neal was 76. It's a lie! If you don't believe me, do the math: Subtract his first 20 formative years (when I suspect Neal's balance sheet tipped a bit more toward creating "havoc" than doing "good"). That leaves only 56 years for Neal to have positively influenced and tangibly improved thousands of lives in the many ways he did. He'd have to be right up there in age with Methuselah to have accomplished so much in a mere half century or so! And if he truly did do all that in 56 years, he's probably celebrating Easter 2007 with Mother Teresa, regaling her with his tales -- and enjoying her occasional shock and blushes!

On a more personal note: Neal knew I was pregnant with my first child -- before I did! I had joined the Free Press in its 1966 heyday. I was fresh out of college, single and had never seen the inside of a newspaper city room, but I could not have had better, more professional, more caring mentors than Neal and some of his colleagues, including Tom Wark. I later married -- after meeting my husband a week before the 1967-8 newspaper lockout and having him accompany me on my picket-line duty for the next nine months. In 1970, I was talking to Neal about a professional decision I had made. After studying my face for quite some time, he pronounced: "You're pregnant!" He took me aback, but I assured him I wasn't and that he'd be (almost) the first to know. But he persisted with: "I tell you you're pregnant." A few weeks later, I sheepishly gave him the news: I had been two weeks pregnant when he made his observation -- and I honestly hadn't known that I was. (That was in the old days of "rabbit" tests and long waits!) Neal congratulated me, flashed that marvelous grin with the matching twinkly eyes, and said, "Look, I have six children. I KNOW when a woman is pregnant!" (The child Neal foresaw, by the way, is today a successful editor/writer in N.Y. She has a book coming out this November. I know Neal would have shared the joy -- maybe a bit of credit too!)

We'll miss you, Neal, but there are lots of us old Freepers -- too many to name -- in that Great City Room in the Sky, who are terribly excited to again be watching the world with you!

-- Judy Wax Goldwasser

In 1978, Neal and Phyllis visited Moyvane, County Kerry, Ireland, from where his father emigrated and they met his aunt Nora and all his cousins. Since then they have visited Moyvane on several occasions with their extended family. Neal really loved Irish country life especially when he visited his father's birthplace in Kilbaha and watched the cows being milked. He could tell a good story, but was often in awe of cousin Jack's storytelling whether the stories were true or not! We have such fond memories of his and his family's visits to our grocery shop in Moyvane village and are so sorry to hear of his passing. Our thoughts and prayers are with Phyllis and all his family at this sad time. Our lives have been enriched from having the privilege of knowing Neal. May his dear soul rest in peace.

-- Don Shine

Neal was still publisher of the Free Press back in 1992 when I started at the paper as a copy aide. I was just a wide-eyed kid at the time, looking to make my way in journalism and make my mark at the paper.

Of course, I knew who he was long before I had started at the Freep, who in Detroit didn’t? What blew me away was that he had already heard of me, the lowly copy aide, even though we had never met. The day I was officially introduced to him, the words "I’m Mike Floyd, great to meet you" had barely tumbled out of my mouth when he started rattling off the things I’d been doing and how he’d heard I’d gained a reputation as a hard worker.

I was shocked and honored that someone of his stature had taken the time to learn who I was. I cannot tell you the pride I felt at his recognition of me. My wife and I have had the good fortune to get to know his son Dan and Dan’s wife Kim, and from time to time I would see Neal at a function or get-together. He always took the time to find out what I was doing and how I was. The words "class act" do not do the man justice. He was a giant in the journalism business and a giant of a man.

Thank you, Neal, for those kind words way back when, they meant the world to me. My sincere condolences to Dan, Kim and the entire Shine family.

-- Mike Floyd
Detroit Free Press everyman/online editor, 1992-2000

My professional life has been particularly blessed by a small group of
people who pushed me to be better. They challenged me to try new things, to
adapt and endure.

Neal Shine, who died yesterday, was one of them.

Today's Detroit Free Press, the paper to which he devoted his working years,
calls him, "A champion of fairness, children and Detroit." All true, and so
much more.

The words, as always, do insufficient justice to the man -- to the empathy he never had to cultivate, but which emanated from his soul; to the wonderful, wicked sense of humor that lit up every conversation and often left me breathless with laughter; to the love of family, friends and place; to all the qualities of a person who, as few can, earned the word "great" next to his name.

Everyone who knew Neal has a story about his generosity of time and spirit.
Here¹s mine:

In the early 1990s, I was working at the Free Press and feeling fairly low about my future in journalism. The paper and I felt like a bit of a mismatch, despite everyone¹s tries to find the right combination of position and person. I was ready to bag it entirely and try something else for a living.

I went to Neal, as I and countless others had done over the years, for advice. "Danny," he said -- no one since my childhood had called me Danny,
but coming from Neal it seemed right -- "we¹ll figure it out." He gently insisted that I could not quit on myself or the craft that was, so obviously to him, meant to be the better part of my life¹s work, as it turned out to be.

Rest in peace, Neal.

Dan Gillmor, director, Center for Citizen Media -- and former Free Press reporter

http://citmedia.org/blog

It took awhile for the news to reach the Washington Post, but a nation notes the passing of Neal Shine. He was my idol long before I met him, simply because of the kind of journalism he produced at the Free Press. Then he loaned me his children, as students in the journalism class I taught at Grosse Pointe South High School - and as editors of the Tower, the weekly newspaper they produced. Many kids want to get as far as possible from the work their father does. Neal's kids wanted to know more - and prove they could do what their father did. Some of them used journalism simply to become much better communicators. Others made it their life's work. Journalism was in the blood, and the father supported everything they did.

Later, for the teacher who wanted to find out whether he could do what he taught, Neal put together a yearlong sabbatical for me at the Free Press for education on the job. I was able to edit feature, sports and news copy, and to write for both the Way We Live and the city desk. He helped me find that I could do it, loved doing it, but loved teaching even more.

There are more famous journalists in America, but none better because he was always grounded in real people he cared for. He is still my idol.

Bob Button, Charlottesville, Va.

News of Neal Shine’s passing came swift and sudden. Somehow I never saw death in the script for Neal Shine. He was too jovial, too full of life, too important to all of us to be taken away. I got to know Shine in a UD J-School classroom, trying to teach some sense into us. To end up at the Free Press working for him was a special and unexpected honor. Newspapering was family then – maybe a dysfunctional family but Neal was the uncle with the twinkle in his eye who held us together, made it all matter. On Guard for 175 Years rings a little strange with Neal Shine no longer on watch.

Shine was the pope once. It was a skit for the Detroit Press Club Steakout. He did a better pope than the pope. I remember planning meetings for the Steakout, sitting there in awe of his Irish wit, thinking this guy could be a comedy writer in Hollywood making a bajillion dollars. Nah. Neal Shine belonged to Detroit. He belonged to journalism. He belonged to the Free Press.

A thousand miles away in Orlando on Tuesday, at a little bar on Sand Lake Road, my wife Leesa and I toasted Neal Shine. We ordered up two Jameson, the Catholic Irish whiskey. I think he would have liked that.

Rick Sylvain, Free Press travel editor (1978-1995)

Phyllis,

Please take solace from the tremendous outpouring of affection directed to you and the entire Shine family. Neal was, by any reckoning, "sui generis."

Pat and Jan O'Leary

Upon learning of Neal Shine’s death this week, I was compelled to dust off and reread my well-worn copy of "On Sunday," his compilation of columns from Detroit, the Free Press magazine of the 1980s. In so doing I was reacquainted with this literary personification of the soul of Detroit. What struck me in my rereading of these columns was not the humility and grace of the man and his stories, after all, that was a given. What surprised me was the almost complete sense of the past and present in which he wrote. Neal Shine, it seems, had little use for the future. After all, who could know the future, and more importantly, what did it matter? What seemed to matter most to Neal was the past and present from which he drew his strength. He seemed to be a sponge for the sensory and human experiences of the Detroit in which he lived and died. Every building that he ever passed or entered, every person that he met, famous or unknown, every street or neighborhood that he had passed through had given him a story to be told and retold until we understood his basic message – that we are all Detroit.

I was fortunate to have known Neal Shine, if only in the last year of his life. In a characteristic act of kindness, he had agreed to write a blurb for the cover of my book Liberty Ship Survivor, a story about a fellow graduate of St. Rose High School who had survived the sinking of his ship during WWII. Neal returned my manuscript with the expected blurb – and the addition of a full professional editing. He apologized in a brief note saying, "I couldn’t help myself. Once an editor, always an editor." Thank you Neal, I hardly knew ye.

-- Joe Mazzara, author of "Liberty Ship Survivor"

I have said on several occasions that you could give Neal Shine a can of Campbell's Soup and ask him to read the label and he would spin a yarn that could hold you spellbound for 20 minutes.

Neal was a fierce competitor and a wonderful friend. He took his profession and his representation of the ordinary folks of our world seriously, but he never took himself seriously. As an editor at the Detroit News I loved competing with the Friendly and Neal was the essence of that rare esteem that readers have for the newspaper. We could out hustle and out report the Free Press at times, but our paper never had Neal Shine's heart. It was a characteristic that was unreplicable. He simply loved life and he loved his fellow man. It showed in the staff and pages of the Freep on his watch.

-- Ben Burns, former Executive Editor, Detroit News

When you have a grandfather like Neal Shine, memories are always in the making. One of my favorites is when he came to visit my family in Wichita for Thanksgiving. My friends stopped by and I introduced them to Grandpa Neal, and he started telling this joke. In no time he had us all laughing. Then I remember going up to my room with my friends, and they told me "Man, your grandpa is so cool! We wish he was our grandpa." I think it was that moment that I realized how lucky I was to have Neal Shine as my grandfather.

I talked to those same friends after he passed away. They were sad and they too also recalled that joke he told. None of us can remember exactly what the joke was, but it made that day special, a day we can never forget.

After he passed away, I wished that I could just talk to him one more time, but then I realized that I could do it any time. Now I just don't see him once a year, but I can just look up and know that he is always there looking down on me from heaven. I know that one day I will meet up with him. No more famous Grandpa stories or jokes to make the whole world laugh; but enough memories to last a lifetime.

-- Alaina Shine, granddaughter of Neal Shine

I never got to work with Neal Shine, arriving here in late 1999. But I was blessed to befriend his son Dan, and Dan’s wife, Kim, during my time here.

Anyone who knows the Shine family knows that if you befriend one of Neal’s kids, you’ll definitely get to know Neal and Phyllis.

My memories aren’t news stories, although Neal talked to me once in a while about a few of my articles.

What I remember is the generosity that Neal and his children a few years ago showed one Christmas Eve when Dan and Kim invited my wife Donna and me over for dinner, knowing we were in town with no family. Our kids, of course, were welcome, too. They just made room for us at the table. We sipped wine and chatted late into the evening in total comfort. We won't forget that hospitality.

This past Halloween my two daughters went trick-or-treating with the Shine kids, Neal’s grandchildren. Neal ran around with some crazy, longhaired wig on screaming and scaring neighborhood children. It was hilarious.

-- Ben Schmitt, reporter, Detroit Free Press, 1999-

I'd not have had a 35-year career in journalism, had Neal Shine and Tom Wark thought it not absurd for a major metropolitan newspaper to hire a social work school graduate "who always wanted to be a reporter," whose only writing exemplars were term papers, and who had the bad grace to ask for a job during the late 60s strike. It has been what the Chinese consider a curse, an interesting career, an interesting life.

Regrettably I last saw him at one or another goodbye party at the Fox Theater decades ago -- for him or Luedtke, I think -- for which I'd driven in from Pittsburgh. That was too bad for both of us. He would have loved the hornets' nest I stirred up in a post-9-11 column, doing my job obviously, pissing people off. Nearly everyone I know who worked at the Freep when I did (1968-1977), looks back on the late 60s and the 70s there with nostalgia, and a near certainty that the freedom we had to find and write the stories we did perhaps the most exhilarating part of our careers.

-- Eileen Foley
Retired Associate Editor
Toledo Blade

The good thing about Neal's passing is that we get to collectively remember him; the smile and twinkly eyes that made you wonder what he was up to, his way of telling a story that could make you laugh 'til you'd snort, his way of keeping track of everyone whose life he touched.

The bad thing about it is everything else.

-- Pamela Neubacher

I worked with Neal for 11 years when I ran the advertising department at The Free Press in the 70's, leaving in 1981. Those were heady days for The Freep as we went toe to toe with The News. Just as the newsroom didn't want to be scooped, the ad department couldn't stand it if those guys got an ad we didn't. They were the times of strikes, auto dealer boycotts, the day we actually passed them for the daily circulation lead (even if only for one quarter) the new Riverfront printing plant and the wonderful smell of a newspaper that someone quoted Neal loving as well. I started my newspaper career there and consider that time the most special in what has now been nearly 40 years in this nutty business.

It was Neal who taught me about what he called "the editorial mind" and how I needed to understand and appreciate the differences if I was really to grasp the power of the press and why it made the advertising in it so effective and powerful. He said once that there wasn't a wall between advertising and news -- it was more like a fence with a few gates. There was room for people to come through the gates, but he didn't think the gates were necessarily there for everyone -- on either side of the fence. I'll never forget the day he told me one the gates was for me and I was always welcome in the newsroom any time. It was the lessons he taught me -- often from afar -- that have stayed with me over the ensuing 30 years in this business -- in Detroit, Denver, New Jersey and now Washington DC. And now that I'm with the Newspaper Association of America and get to travel the U.S. on behalf of the industry, it's hard to find a city anywhere that has not felt the influence of this special man.

The tribute in the paper yesterday was testimony that he was a prophet in his own land as well. I am honored to have called him a colleague and a friend.

-- John E. Kimball
Senior Vice President & Chief Marketing Officer
Newspaper Association of America

Although I worked on the business side, Neal was the reason I wanted to work at the Free Press. Back in the late 60's, Neal came to speak at career day at my high school -- Dominican High in Detroit. He was such an impressive and motivating speaker. From that moment, I was hooked and knew I had to be a part of the Free Press. I did work in advertising at the Freep from 1971 until the dreaded JOA and then at the DNA until 2000. Thanks to Neal I was able to be a part of the Free Press Family for 18 (mostly) wonderful years.

My sympathies to the entire Shine Family.

-- Rosemarie (Lunek) Perrin

Neal Shine enriched my life. I worked in the Detroit Free Press composing room from 1966 to 1989 when Neal Shine was there at that time. God bless him and his generations.

Theodora (Teddy) M. Skinner

Our daughter Deanna married Neal and Phyllis son Jim in 1982 and we are blessed to share three grandchildren with the Shines.

We’ve been privileged to have shared many family gatherings with them and will always have fond memories of Neal’s warmth and humor.

Our condolences, prayers and love are with Phyllis and the Shine family at this difficult time.

Gil and Nancy Groehn

I had the honor of meeting Mr. Shine at a Detroit Society of Professional Journalists banquet last summer, where I received a college scholarship. My grandfather, a former PR man for Michigan Bell, had told me about Mr. Shine before, and when I heard he was there, I had to meet him.

He could not have been more gracious or warm. I mentioned my grandfather to him and he responded with a story about my grandmother that neither I nor my grandfather had ever heard: she worked in the library of the Free Press many, many years ago, and apparently greeted a young Neal on his first day with the salutation, "Who in God's name are you?" All those years later, Mr. Shine still remembered it and laughed about it. My grandmother passed away when I was only 7 years old, but darned if it didn't sound just like her.

I'm lucky to have met him.

Matt Doran

A little more than 20 years ago, I was a student in former Free Press editor and publisher Neal Shine’s "Ethical Issues in the Media" class at Oakland University. One evening, the legendary storyteller let screenwriter Kurt Luedtke, a former colleague of his at the Free Press, tell the tales. Luedtke screened for us "Absence of Malice," his intense 1981 film starring Sally Field as an earnest-but-ethically-challenged investigative reporter and the famously blue-eyed Paul Newman as her embattled subject. After we’d seen many complex, troubling moral and legal issues arise in the movie -- perfect case studies and solemn lessons for tomorrow’s journalists -- Mr. Shine enthusiastically opened up a Q and A session with his class.

From my vantage point near the back of the classroom I saw a small hand shoot up in the front row. The starry-eyed young woman propped both her elbows on her desk, rested her chin on the open palms of her hands and dreamily asked Luedtke, "What’s Paul Newman really like?"

Luedtke, who within a couple years would win an Oscar for his screenplay for "Out of Africa," was momentarily at a loss for words. Mr. Shine winced at the question, and I desperately tried to salvage the reputation of the class with a substantive query about one of the film’s thornier matters.

The fact that I went on to ace Mr. Shine’s course, which despite this awkward moment easily became the most thought-provoking, enlightening and downright exciting class I’ve ever had, is the highlight of my undergraduate days.

A little less than 20 hours ago, someone asked me if I’d heard that Mr. Shine had passed away. I had not.

I winced at the question, and desperately tried to salvage my memories of that class with the man I have always considered the Granddaddy of Detroit Journalism.

Sincerely,
-- Ron Campbell
Berkley, MI

My name is Chris Ruzzin. I have been a longtime friend of Neal Shine where I met him many years ago through the wonderful people of Focus: Hope. Neal for many years has been the MC of the annual Focus: Hope Holiday Music Festival that my Mom (Ann Ruzzin) has been the producer of for many years. Where the guests who have attended the many music festivals over the years not only enjoyed the entertainment from the many Folk Entertainers, but also cherished the pure enjoyment of Neal's wonderful way of making everyone feel like they were family.

Also, many years ago I had taken the Woodward bus downtown to visit him there at the Free Press. When I arrived at the Free Press building, I walked in the front door the security guard had asked who I wanted to see, I had said that "I would like to see Neal Shine." He then asked if I have an appointment to see him, and I replied "no I don't have an appointment." The guard was reluctant to allow me any further at that time. He then called upstairs to Neal where he was instructed to send me up to his office. Now mind all of this occurred while I had made my way downtown while it was raining, and I looked like a drowned rat too. So, I then made my way up to visit Neal in his fourth floor office, that was one of the most beautiful offices I had ever seen until then. While I was enjoying my visit with Neal, I had noticed one of the poster size copies of Ernie Harwell that was hanging behind his desk, where he was featured on the front page of the paper back when the Detroit Tigers won the World Series back in '84. I mentioned to my friend Neal that the poster was such a cherished memory of Ernie Harwell, where he then asked me if I would like a copy of it. And of course I said, yes. Then I saw Neal pick up the phone and call I believe the archive room to request some copies of the poster, and he then rolled up the posters and gave them to me. He then asked how I made my way downtown to visit him and how I was going to get back home, where I replied that I had taken the Woodward bus down here. Well with the wonderful kind heart that Neal has, he insisted on giving me a ride back to my Mom's house here in Pleasant Ridge.

A few weeks ago I had tried to call Neal, but when there was no answer I figured that he was on vacation down in Florida. Every so often I would give him a call just to catch up on old times, and see how he's been doing. Well, when I had tried to call him this last time, I was looking forward to hearing his cheerful voice as I always do, and give him some updates on my health since my injuries from 4 years ago. Along with telling him that I had found someone who is the light of my life. Her name is Diana Whitman, and I was looking forward to informing him that we're going to be getting married in the very near future :) I have told her so much about Neal, where she was really looking forward to meeting him as well.

Then my Mom had been reading the Free Press web site, where she told me a few days ago that he had passed away, and I was deeply saddened.

Well , my friend I am not going to say "Good Bye," but I will say "Till we can see one another once again".

Your Friend,
-- Chris Ruzzin
Pleasant Ridge

When I arrived at the Free Press in the B.C. years (before corporate), the City Room was a wondrous thing -- a crowded, clattering, informal jam session of soloists and sidemen that each day performed a symphony of grace and beauty and laughter and tears.

At the center of this swirl were the news editor, Vincent (Tick) Klock, and the city editor, Neal Shine, with Frank Angelo in his glass cubicle watching over the fray. A newcomer soon understood and appreciated their mastery, and that of copy editors like Bill Parker and rewrite veterans like Jim Dewey.

Ah, those were the days! The owner, John S. Knight, was actually a newspaperman who wrote a weekly column. Within a few years, the bosses were Wall Street types, and the picture changed. Corporate foolishness drove Tick into retirement. Neal adapted to the changes, but I always felt he -- like the rest of us graybeards -- longed for the old days when good stories came first and the accountants stayed out of the newsroom.

Neal Shine was a special man. Detroit has lost one of its crown princes.

Brian H. Bragg, Logan County, Arkansas

As the first recipient and then annual giver of the Neal Shine Award for Media Commitment to Philanthropy, Neal’s best moment came a few years ago when Joe Falls received the award. By then Joe was in a wheelchair, in rapidly failing health, and not going out much in public.

Neal wheeled Joe to the front of the hotel ballroom and proceeded to give him a hard time about leaving the Free press for the News in the late 1970’s, then sharing stories about the two of them collecting baseball equipment from donations (and probably their own pockets), to distribute to kids at baseball fields throughout the city. The mutual admiration and love was apparent. Neal probably knew that this was one of the last, if not the last times, Joe Falls would appear in public, and he wanted to make sure Joe’s work with the Special Olympics and other charities was lauded.

Neal was always a centerpiece of National Philanthropy Day in Detroit and will be missed. He was a true philanthropist “a lover of humankind”. Gary Dembs, Past President, Association of Fundraising Professionals.

Gary Dembs, President, Non-Profit Personnel Network

I did not know Neal Shine personally, but I'd like to relate a story that speaks to the kind of man he was.

My father-in-law was Don Kummer, President of the Detroit Newspaper Guild and a union leader for many years. Needless to say he and Neal did not see eye to eye on the politics and philosophies of the paper and the unions who worked to help publish them. In fact they battled on many occasions. But, they had much in common. They were men who fought hard for the principles they believed in and the people they were representing. They were men of great integrity and despite their differences they respected the quality and depth of each other's convictions.

My father-in-law, in many respects, was a quiet man and not one to offer faint praise, but I remember once asking him what he thought of Neal Shine and he said, quite simply, "he's a good man." Knowing my father-in-law as I did, these four words carried a weight and meaning that in my own life I will strive to earn. My father-in-law endured a long battle with cancer. Neal frequently inquired about his health. When he died in 2003, Neal attended his funeral and through kinds words to my family, made it clear how much respect he had for him. If my father-in-law were alive today I know, unequivocally, he would be doing the same for Neal and his family.

-- Rich Ansell
Grosse Pointe Park

In 1965, my father joined the Free Press and began a friendship with Neal that lasted for decades. Their friendship was sustained by their mutual passion for newspapers, their devotion to family and love of all things Irish. My father admired Neal’s integrity, newspaper savvy and irreverent sense of humor.

If my father were alive today, he would shed a tear over Neal’s passing, and then offer an Irish toast -- "May you be a half an hour in Heaven before the Devil knows you’re dead.“

-- Judge Timothy M. Kenny, 3rd Circuit Court

I was deeply saddened to hear of Neal's passing. He was a remarkable man. One of my favorite memories is going to his house with another intern Katrina Miles. We didn't bother to call ahead of time. If you knew Neal, you knew he wouldn't mind an unannounced visit. We were right -- he and his wife happily invited us in for ice cream. Its memories like this that remind me his genuine niceness.

-- Jenifer Bement
Former Free Press Intern
Louisville, KY

My fellow journalism major buddy and CMU roommate, Laura Varon-Brown, landed a job at the Detroit News after college and then went to the Free Press. Laura invited me over to the Free Press one afternoon. As she gave me the tour of the Free Press building she asked, "Is there anyone you want to meet?" "Neal Shine," I said.

And before I knew it, I was in his office. Laura introduced me as her college roommate and I added, "I married Leo Donovan's grandson." Before I knew what hit me, Neal was hugging me and laughing, "Why did you marry into that crazy Irish family?" (Leo Donovan was the Free Press automotive columnist who died in 1956 and left six children ages seven to 18 years old.) Neal began to tell me this wonderful story about my husband's grandfather and his admiration for him.

The Free Press was on strike at the time and Neal said his wife told him that they needed grocery money. He would have to go walk the picket line outside the paper. Neal said he agonized all the way over to the newspaper because he knew he could never strike against the Free Press, but his family needed to eat. He called Leo Donovan and explained his dilemma. Leo told Neal, "Don't worry. I'll figure something out." Leo made a few calls and got him a job as the night time manager at a skating rink. Neal told us he was thrilled he didn't have to go on strike. "But Leo didn't tell me I had to KNOW how to skate too!" Neal laughed.

That was the first and last time I met Neal Shine. Not only did he take the time to meet with me and share a wonderful memory, but it's true that no one loved the Detroit Free Press more than Neal did.

-- Mary Ann McCourt
Pleasant Ridge, MI

When planning the first Senior Expo in 1992, the Assumption Cultural Center committee agreed that we needed to invite a keynote speaker who would best address the growing older adult population and their families.

There was such a need for a venue where the community's leading businesses and health care providers could provide a convenient one stop resource to provide seniors with a network of services assistance and information.

Neal Shine accepted enthusiastically as he recognized that the keepers of our community traditions and vital participants of this new extended healthy lifestyle were important.

If anyone could embody the spirit of his hometown as lovingly and completely, it was Neal Shine.

Everyone adored him and during question and answers, he identified with all of the memories the seniors had growing up in their Detroit.

Senior Expo grew and the Metro East Chamber of Commerce became a partner in presenting this special day. The Resource Guide expanded and lives all year long as a reference in the community.

For the 10th anniversary in 2002, it was only natural to celebrate by asking Neal to be the Keynote Speaker again. He accepted warmly and told stories of being a doting grandfather and the importance of reading stories to children ... even to volunteer if you had none. During the questions, he again provided that warmth, security and fond memory of a life once lived by hundreds of seniors that day.

We were fortunate to have Neal Shine's grandchildren attend our Assumption Nursery School and Toddler Center ... and of course, he came to read to the children.

It was truly an honor to have known Neal Shine and have him enrich our lives forever.

-- Joan De Ronne
Administrator

The last time I saw Neal was at lunch at the Masters Resturant. Neal always had time to be with his boyhood pals. I was in the scouts with him in the early fortys. Troop 20 out of MacLeland police station. We were a Poilice sponsored troop, which seemed to give us a little prestege because Mr. Roy Prince who was a police officer was our scoutmaster and he showed us how to stay out of trouble and have fun doing it. Neal Shine was a patrol leader who was lots of fun to be with. His brother Jim was also in the troop. He was also fun and I was in the same patrol as Jim. So many paperdrives,campouts and jambories later I dropped out of the scouts and lost touch with the guys, but quite a few stuck it out and when they became 18yrs old and too old for the scouts they still met regularly.

So anyways years later I was at the Polish Century Club at a Sportmans charity dinner, one of the speakers was Neal Shine. As usual hiss speech kept us all in stiches. When it was over everyone headed for the coat room so I wiggled past the long line to say hi to Neal I tapped him on the back and when he turned I said Hi Shineola remember me? He looked at me and said hi "Sipider" I was puzzled and said no I'm Johnny Ahern and then I remembered Spider was my scout nick name. What an amazing memory this man had. Later that year thanks to Billie Vasilides the whole troop got together with the scouts who we could contact and Neals wife and his mother and our wifes to show pictures of scouting events. It was great to talk of our exploits in the scouts. Afew years later Billie Vasilides got a few of us back together for lunch at the Masters and again last fall. Neal always the life of the party and he really loved it. Many more great memories to share will have to wait.

Respectfully,
John "SPIDER" Ahern

I never get to St. Ambrose as often as I should. And certainly not as often as Neal did.

But I went last Sunday and, as I often do, stopped by C-79, the old Detroit News paper station around the corner from the church. It was tucked in an alley off Jefferson, and it's where we picked up afternoon papers to blanket the east side.

The hook once used to hang new or annoying paperboys by their belt is long gone. But the rusted Detroit News sign on the door of this long-abandoned depot has survived. The only thing that has kept me from taking it was the fear that Tom-O or Antman or some wistful former paperboy might miss it.

I don't know if anyone else has passed by C-79 since it closed years ago, but there's no longer any point. I found Sunday that a wrecking crew had begun to tear down the building.

I never really liked the News. I just couldn't get up early enough to deliver the Free Press, even though my family loved the Free Press -- and Neal Shine.

My own Irish granny, God rest her soul, used to love telling me that Neal's mother's name was Sue. She got such a kick out of someone naming their daughter "Sue Shine," which to her sounded to her like "shoe shine."

Years later, I would achieve a personal goal and work for the Free Press. Through my friend and colleague Dan Shine, I got to know Neal.

Dan is a fine man and Neal was everything I thought he would be and more. I last saw him in the building on election night in 2005. Long-retired and seldom seen in the newsroom, Neal stopped by -- even though I don't think he was all that interested in whether Mayor Kilpatrick or Freman Hendrix won.

But he was a newsman. And there was no way he was going to miss being in the newsroom on election night.

These past two days have been so hard for me I can't even imagine how Neal's family is coping.

Two touchstones in my journalistic world fell this week.

I finally did pry that damn Detroit News sign off.

I only wish I have got a little more Neal Shine, too.

-- M.L. Elrick
Detroit Free Press clerk, intern and reporter, 1989-1991; 1999-2006.

I was a copy boy at the Free Press in the late 1960s. The pranks we played on people then would get you fired these days. One day Shine played a great one on me. I was cleaning up his office after an election night, and had placed a good number of phones in a box. I was about to leave, when one of the phones started ringing. Shine was on the phone and looked bothered by the ringing phone, so I started taking them out to find the one that was ringing. It was the one on the bottom. It wouldn't stop, so I picked it up and answered it. All I heard was: "Counts, you dumb -----." He had rigged the whole thing, from getting me to come in to put the phones in the boxes, to making sure he called the one that was on the bottom of the stack. He later helped me find a job at a decent daily Michigan paper. I'll never forget the guy.

-- Jeff Counts
Publisher, Michigan's Streamside Journal

My first journalism job was at the Free Press -- the paying one. But for a part of the summer of 1967, between my junior/senior year at Medill at Northwestern University, I was there, too, as an unpaid intern, with permission to sit in on any department, "work" any shift. And I did.

I left that summer with a job offer, which I obviously took them up on after I graduated in 1968 (and after the strike was settled in August of that year).

Though Neal didn't hire me (either time), he was one of the ones (along with the news editor at the time, Tick) who watched out for me for the few months I was at the Freep.

Mitch Albom has nailed the Neal I know in the first few graphs. Though I knew from 10th grade on, when I took my first journalism course at Grosse Pointe High School, that this was what I wanted to do -- it was Neal (and Tick) who provided that final hook for me.

And that passion was there until my last day at the Chicago Tribune on Dec. 31, 2004. (Yes, I was one of those lifers who had the privilege of spending my career at one place -- or, with one company, since I worked for three Tribune papers in Chicago from March 1969 until I retired.)

So, here's to Neal, with incalculable thanks.

-- Karen A. Callaway

This is the story as Neal told it, and as I remember it, which means it's no doubt closer to true than not.

One of Neal and Phyllis's many nieces or nephews or young cousins was getting married. Phyllis related this news to Neal, along with the date, months down the road, in the fall.

"Can't do it," Neal replied. "That's Michigan-Notre Dame."

Phyllis grew exasperated. "What would you do if my funeral were the same day as Michigan-Notre Dame?" she said.

Neal looked at his wife and replied evenly, "I would never schedule your funeral on the same day as Michigan-Notre Dame."

-- Bruce Tomaso
Staff Writer, The Dallas Morning News

I know I won't do this man justice by what I write here, but I'll try anyway.

When God passed out the gifts and tools that he graces us all with, he gave the particular talents of humor, writing ability, leadership, a sense of justice, and kindness to Neal Shine. I think Neal exceeded even divine expectations in his use of these gifts.

His sense of humor was such that he could make a "Good morning" greeting sound like a funny story. I always smiled when I passed him in the hallways of the Free Press, though our paths never crossed often (I worked in advertising). He always had a way about him that said that he was proud to be part of the Free Press, and proud to be a Detroiter.

While I am sure that every generation of reporters feels that theirs is part of a golden age of newspapering, I hope that thoughts of Neal continue to inspire journalists to not only go the extra mile to get the story and get it right, but make the newspaper business more newspaper and less business...

He was a hell of a newspaper guy, a hell of a Detroiter, a hell of an Irishman...and I'm sure he was the best husband and father and friend to those who knew him best. My deepest condolences to all of you.

-- Donna (Lesnieski) Bosink, Freep 1970-85

I've been reading The Free Press for more than 40 years and have long been a Neal Shine fan, for his tales of the old newspaper days, plus the fact we both had Irish roots and started out as copyboys. I loved his columns, depicting those colorful characters that seemed to naturally gyrate to newspaper city rooms in the old days, especially his column of May 4, 2001 when he told tales of the likes of Eddie Guest and Jean Sharley. It should be required reading for anyone wanting to get into the newspaper business. It was wanting to share that column with a reporter here at The Windsor Star that lead to me meeting Neal Shine just 3 months ago. He was on his way to Belle River, Ont., for a final look at the family cottage before heading to Florida and when I shook his hand in The Star's lobby and said "my pleasure Mr. Shine," he answered, "It's Neal." He was obviously pleased when I invited him for a tour of the building and when he saw the newsroom he deemed it "appropiately crummy." He brought along a copy of his last column, meet with the reporter -- who had heard Neal speak at one his son Dan's classes -- and regaled us with non-stop stories before going on his way. The next day I got a nice thank you note from him, ending with two questions. He had spotted a closed bar across the street and wanted to know a) how does a bar across from a newspaper go out of business and b) did I think he might be able to buy the old Guinness sign on the building for the cottage. He noted if the building was in downtown Detroit, a $20 bill would get the sign overnight. Our last e-mail was a promise to meet in the spring, for a lunch and maybe a glass of Guinness.

The stories in Wednesday's Free Press plus the tributes on their website are testament to what a great newspaperman he was and an even better human being. I'm sure he knew this story but it is worth repeating for those who don't. A well-known sports writer was onced asked to speak at a large funeral in New York city and started by saying, "dying is no big deal." After a collective gasp from the mourners, he completed his opening by saying, "even the least of us will accomplish that ... It's the living that's the trick." I think Neal Shine knew that.

-- Michael J. Frezell
Asst. Metro Editor The Windsor Star

David Cay Johnston called this morning with news of Neal Shine's death. It hit me hard, even though I am long gone from Detroit and had not seen the man in three decades. We'd been communicating again lately because of a novel I recently published, The Snow Angel, based loosely on a crime I covered for the Detroit Free Press in the early seventies.

In January, 1970, I walked in the door of my hometown Free Press, fresh from military service. I had never worked for a paper before, or even taken a beginning journalism class. But I needed a job. I guess Neal was so impressed by this audacity that he hired me. Soon I was covering the police beat. Neal's brother Bill was a Detroit police sergeant, and that beat was important to him.

The police beat in a city then known as "the murder capital of the world" was just about what you would expect. It was fast-paced and exciting, but always grim. Neal's legendary sense of humor helped lighten the load considerably. By the end of my five years at the Freep, I had a number of awards for investigative reporting. I hope I justified his faith in me.

Neal had a huge heart. He cared about the city and its people. Under his leadership, the newspaper comforted the afflicted and afflicted the comfortable. He once told me, "If you're not pissing someone off, you're probably not doing your job."

In our last communication, I told Neal how I didn't appreciate it at the time, but the Detroit Free Press under his guidance was a truly great newspaper. His response:

"My debt to the Free Press staff in those years is profound. It was easy to look good with people like you doing the heavy lifting."

Godspeed, my friend.

-- Michael Graham
Malibu, CA

I was lucky enough to be one of Neal's journalism students at OU.

After graduating in spring 1983, I left two months later for my first real newsroom job in Miami at a Knight-Ridder venture called Viewtron.

A few years later, I received a copy of Neal's collection of Sunday columns with these words handwritten inside:

"For Jennifer: A reminder of things in Detroit so you won't forget us.
Best wishes from your friend, Neal Shine
Jan. 29, 1987."

I never forgot my roots and sure won't forget Neal.

-- Jennifer John
Troy, Mich.

During some of the darkest days of the JOA formation, I could count on Neal for a good laugh and counsel.

-- Jerry

Along with the sadness that accompanied my learning of Neal's passing -- also comes recollection of literally hundreds of such great memories of this gentleman.

He was -- first -- a people's managing editor at the time I met him in 1973, the year I was hired.

It was at a circulation transportation safety awards banquet that I first heard him speak -- and if you know Neal, you know that he was never at a loss for words -- as I came to learn on this night.

Neal gave the most rousing speech he could muster to motivate this wily group of 150 or so teamster drivers.

He always did it with a great sense of purpose. He made each person feel as if they we're special. That got my attention and kept it for 23 years.

He was always a friend of the circulation department.

My fondest memory also takes me back to the "roar of '84"

After we all embraced the concept of producing a book for that championship year, Neal graciously introduced the book in the same style we were accustomed to seeing from him. We went on to sell over 200,000 of these books under the leadership of Neal -- a feat unmatched in newspaper history.

To you, Neal: May the good earth be soft under you
When you rest upon it,
And may it rest easy over you when,
At the last, you lay out under it,
And may it rest so lightly over you
That your soul may be out from under it quickly,
And up, and off,
And be on its way to God.

-- Robert Bolone
Columbus, Ohio

Back in the mid-1980s, I had the pleasure of producing Neal's public television show "Detroit Week in Review." The job was an easy one -- Neal's knowledge of everything happening in and around town and his familiarity with just about everybody in Detroit journalism, meant that I had a knowledgeable host and one who could always hook a reluctant reporter or two at the last minute to fill out our panel for the Friday evening taping if I came up short.

As a young producer, I more than once had a difference of opinion settled with a more-experienced and feted colleague by having them tell me that they were right because they'd been in the business longer and had won more awards than me. But Neal never did that -- even though his experience and his awards could have easily trumped theirs. Instead, when we'd talk in the middle of the week to start fleshing out the three stories we'd cover in Friday's show, Neal would always listen patiently when I disagreed with him. Sometimes, he'd counter with an argument I hadn't considered but often, after hearing me out, he'd say, "You're right. Let's do it your way." He wasn't being patronizing or condescending, he was treating me like a colleague even though I was a still "wet-behind-the-ears" kid and he had absolutely no reason for doing so.

His kindness and generosity made a lasting impression on me and I have always considered him to be a mentor at large. He was the person who made me realize that you don't have to be an ogre to be in charge (I had more than enough examples to believe the opposite was true) and his example changed my life.

One of my favorite stories about Neal was when I volunteered to help produce the Detroit Press Club Steak Out fundraiser that was one of Neal's favorite causes. This particular year, we'd worked out a bit that Neal and Channel 7's Jim Herrington were to do live. We got the script and everything was set until the last minute when Herrington was called out of town and couldn't make the event. So, we scrambled around to put Herrington's bits on tape -- pretending that we were beaming him in live from another location -- and set it up so Neal would deliver his lines live with Herrington's taped segments projected on a screen behind Neal. The bit turned out far better than we ever expected because Neal, rather than sticking to his script, stole all of the helpless Jim Herrington's punch lines. The audience -- knowing what Neal was up to -- roared.

Even after Neal's association with public television came to an end, I stayed in touch with him and one day I invited him to lunch so I could have a chance to thank him for all he'd done for me. I stumbled through my expressions of gratitude and, when I was done, Neal thanked me -- he thanked me -- and then proceeded to pick up the check over my protestations.

He truly was one of the great ones and I can't help but feel that we're all worse off without him.

God bless you, Neal. And thanks.

-- Jay Nelson
Partner/Executive Producer
Nice Work Productions

I was a copywriter in the Free Press/Detroit Newspapers marketing department for quite a few years. Sometime in the early 90s, my wife Linda (also a long time, current employee) managed to purchase some extra Red Wings hockey tickets, located in the Free Press seats. That night, as we descended the stairs in Joe Louis Arena, I recognized (to my utter amazement) the legendary Neal Shine with several other Free Press staffers in our section. We've always been in awe of him, so I nervously took my seat and Linda sat next to Neal.

Once the game started, Neal became just another fan -- munching on popcorn, washing it down with slugs of beer, screaming the usual fan expletives immediately apologizing to Linda, before hurling another and apologizing to her yet again). This towering figure in Detroit newspaper history had basically become ... well, just a big kid having fun at a hockey game.

That night at the Joe gave us great insight into the "humanness" of Neal Shine. This guy was REAL. He showed the same joy and enthusiasm to everything he did, whether it was running a newspaper or taking in a hockey game.

And that, I believe, played a large part in why so many people loved him.

-- Gary and Linda (Shields) Ortleib
Past and present Detroit Free Press/Detroit Newspapers employees

I would like to offer this tribute to Neal Shine.

It was there, in the lower level of Havana's Hotel Nacional restaurant that Neal Shine patiently listened to my wild-hair scheme about an all-women ski expedition to the North Pole "and-please-can-you-help-me?"

Of course, he did. He not only got the Free Press' attention, but managed to have his son Dan accompany my troupe as a reporter on our training mission in the U.P. in January 2001. (Sorry, Dan. I know it was cold.)

I was doubly blessed by Neal's public gestures. In 1986, he wrote a column about my brother's battle with MS. His inspired words allowed us to raise more than $10,000 in pledges for the Multiple Sclerosis Society through that year's Detroit Free Press International Marathon. At every turn, Neal was there with a word of encouragement, or a grant of help. "Yes" was far more frequent than "no."

In wanting to hold Neal dear yesterday, I looked at the letters of recommendation for his nomination to the Michigan Journalism Hall of Fame, and there was one written by Father William Cunningham. I just smiled. What a time the two of them must be having in Detroit's annex!

-- Sue Carter
MSU School of Journalism

It was more than 50 years ago when I met Neal Shine.

I can't remember where but perhaps it was at the Alibi Bar in Port Huron with Jim Fitzgerald. Neal was starting at the Free Press, Jim was with the Lapeer County paper and I was a beginning reporter with the Port Huron Times Herald.

Years went by and we both subsequently served as city editors -- I now was at The Flint Journal -- and we sat side by side in 1965 at a seminar in New York for two weeks. It was when the American Press Institute operated out of Columbia University. One afternoon, at his suggestion, we went to the subway intersection at Times Square to get a feel for that place when the blackout occurred plunging the city into darkness. It was sobering!

Later, I was named publisher of The Saginaw News and Neal sent one of those messages his colleagues remember so well. In short, he questioned my sanity.

When he came out of retirement to become publisher, I sent a terse telegram: "You'll be sorry." Later he sent me a note asking: "When do you start having fun on this job?"

Over the years, I came to admire Neal's uncanny ability to make the tough newsroom and administrative decisions but retain the loyalty, admiration and affection of those around him. Phyllis always helped him keep his hat size from inflating but he was a gifted reporter, editor and publisher.

It was a privilege for me to know him and feel he was my friend. I've never heard of an enemy.

-- Raymond L. Gover
President and Publisher
The Patriot-News Co.
Harrisburg, PA.

Neal Shine entered my life in the late '60s. Neal and Kurt Luedtke would make an annual recruiting visit to Ohio State University to take their pick of the journalism school litter. They'd give my buddy Lou Heldman, who would become a prize catch, a wad of bills, tell him to buy as much beer, ice and pretzels as he could and invite his J-school friends to his apartment. Lou would load his bathtub with the ice and the bottles of beer and the kids filled the place to listen to Neal and Kurt, who made a bunch of newspaper wannabes feel very important, very grown up. If you had doubts about becoming a newspaper man or woman, they disappeared in the presence of those two. And you wanted to work for them at The Detroit Free Press. More than Lou (Jenny Buckner and Sandy White come to mind) found their way to Detroit from Ohio State.

I took a different route, but I never forgot Neal. I leave it to others who worked with Neal to share the tales of journalistic derring-do. Although our lives intersected only a few times, I knew Neal was the kind of newspaper man I wanted to be. Anyone who spent any time with Neal Shine walked away the better journalist because of it.

Neal's optimism, his ability to laugh -- especially at himself -- are in short supply these days. Especially at newspapers. Elsewhere, too. May those of us he touched, however briefly, take a moment to consider what Neal would expect of us today. If we do. newspapers will be the better for our having known him.

-- Jay Smith, Cox Newspapers, Atlanta, Georgia

Mr. Shine was, hands down, the best teacher I've ever had.

Unlike most other professors in school, Mr. Shine never taught by the book. Instead, he challenged his students to think outside the box, preaching creativity by stretching the imagination.

I am honored to say that I had the privilege of receiving a letter of recommendation in the mail from Mr. Shine in early 2005. He was kind enough to acknowledge my writing abilities, going as far as to say he believed I would "succeed in whatever ventures he undertakes."

I feel blessed to have met this man in my lifetime, and I cannot wait to tell my future children all about my experiences in journalism. Those experiences are headlined by the late, great Neal Shine.

--Steve St. Pierre, OU alumni, 2005

I had Mr. Shine for an instructor at Oakland University. I have never in my life met a man that was more willing to help or to listen. It was clear that he loved what he did.

Two words come to mind when I think of him, ethics and integrity. He beat that into our head daily. He also told me I was a fantastic writer and should pursue it. I never have for this or that reason. But now, after hearing of this tremendous loss, I feel like I need to take my chances just to make him proud.

It's weird how someone can have such a lasting effect on someone. But, that was Neal. He's timeless ... I will never forget him or what he stood for and how he impacted my life.

Pay attention everyone, this was one of the last good guys! If we could all aspire to be half of the man that he was the world would just be a better place. It's that simple. Thanks for everything, Professor Shine! You will be missed.

--Stacey Bauman

I was so sad to hear about Neal Shine's death.

I probably can't say anything about Neal that someone else hasn't already
said.

But I just wanted to add my voice to all the others who will praise him.

Just looking at that photo of Neal leaves me warm, fuzzy, and smiling.

He was one of the kindest men I ever met.

And, at the risk of alienating those who are in newspaper management, I used
to always say that Neal was too nice a guy to be in management.

What a big heart he had!

The day I left the Detroit Free Press after working there for 16 years, I
struggled to keep myself composed and swallow that big lump in my throat.

But the call from Neal was more than I could handle. Neal was not working at
the paper at the time (I believe he was on a leave because of his battle
with Hodgkin's). As soon as I heard his voice I lost it and burst into tears.
He was one of the greats.

I'm only sorry I didn't know him longer.

Neal represented all the best of the Free Press and it was people like him
that made the place feel like home.

-- Pauline Lubens, former Free Press photographer now at the San
Jose Mercury-News

When I went to work at the Free Press in the mid-'80s, Neal found me to
welcome me. He knew I had left a job working for a man he had once
fired. He told me the man had been a photographer on assignment in an
elementary school. The teacher had called Neal after the man left and
said he had made children cry. Neal walked into the photography
department at the paper and fired him. He was a gentle man, still a bit
sad about having to fire someone 10 years earlier.

-- George Waldman

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me, "Are you related to Neal Shine?"

I would proudly answer "yes" knowing full well that the question was posed from a Neal Shine admirer.

Uncle Neal made me proud to be Irish, proud to be a Shine, and proud to be a Detroiter.

--Patrick Shine,
nephew of Neal Shine

While I had never met Neil Shine in person, I had heard so many great things about him. My fiance, Chris Ruzzin, and his mother Ann Ruzzin knew Neil for many, many years through their work with Focus Hope. They were very good friends with him. Chris had so much wanted me to meet Neil after Neil's return from his vacation in Florida. Since Chris and I had only met earlier this year, I had not had the chance to meet Neil yet. Both Chris and Ann cannot say enough good things about their good friend Neil. I have heard what a wonderful person, so warm, and caring that he was and how he loved helping anyone that needed help with anything that they needed. I was told what a great sense of humor he had as well. I know that he will be sorely missed by everyone who knew him and I am sorry that I didn't get that opportunity to meet such a warm, caring soul as Neil Shine. The City of Detroit has lost a caring champion for this city's people and the journalism world has lost a great talent as well. All of my sympathies and prayers go out to Neil Shine's family during this sorrowful time.

Thank you!

-- Diana Whitman

I spent just one day of my 38-year newspaper career with Neal Shine, but I
never forgot him, nor lost my appreciation of the time we had that day. I
visited the Free Press newsroom in the early '80s. I believe I was deputy
managing editor of the Boston Globe at that time, and I was interested in
various aspects of the Free Press' news operation. He gave me pretty much
all of his time that morning and took me to lunch and then we spent another
hour or two together. He was perhaps the nicest person I met in the
newspaper business, which is full of great people, and one of the most
interesting. Just on the basis of those few wonderful hours, I wanted to
add this simple tribute to the list.

--Matt Storin, retired editor of the Boston Globe (1993-2001)

One afternoon several years back, Neal regaled a small group of us at Loyola High School with amusing, often hilarious stories about, well, just about everything. But then his tone shifted when he talked about some essays he had received from his students at Oakland University. The topic was suicide. Several writers flaunted a rather nonchalant, almost flippant attitude, treating the subject matter as no big deal. As he told us about these essays, he choked up and could barely continue, so dismayed and troubled was he at the prospect that someone would not love life, or at least not try to give it their best, or worst of all, would contemplate giving up on it altogether. After dwelling on this sobering topic a few minutes, he regained his composure and delighted us with yet more tales, real or otherwise.

Not only was Neal one of the funniest people I have ever known, but more importantly, one of the most humane. I feel blessed to be among the countless people touched by his decency and compassion. I will always treasure the Italian cookbook he gave me, and I beg his pardon if I was supposed to try it out on Phyllis and him.

--David Mastrangelo, S.J., president
Loyola High School

Shine hired me in 1973. It was my first full-time newspaper job. He
took a chance, took me under his wing, and for five wonderful
years I treasured the relationship.

He was always encouraging, aways funny -- and always Catholic. If you
were a Catholic, he'd love to talk "Catholic" to you, eager to tell a
story about the pope, offer the latest Irish-Catholic joke, or share
with you the latest sighting of a Jesus or Mary on a door screen or
breakfast roll.

Once, after the paper's religion editor left, he came and asked me to
temporarily cover the religion beat. I told him, as a Catholic, I knew
that part of the beat, but I didn't know much about the Protestant
churches.

"Don't worry," he assured me, speaking, as he often did, somewhat
impishly. "Just write about Catholics. No one will notice."

I think of Shine and smile. If there's an Irish-Catholic section in
heaven, he's checking it out.

Gratefully,
--Tom Fox, Detroit Free Press reporter
1973-78

I had never met him before, and unfortunately never saw him again. Neal was chair of the board of directors of Youth for Undestanding many years ago. We met in a modest D.C. restaurant to discuss the organization's financial woes and their recent relocation from Ann Arbor to the nations's capital.

He apologized for the venue but explained it was his favorite "fly palace" and the food and wine were cheap, but good. We quickly dispensed with the business issues. It was simply a matter of raising a lot money from a few good people and Neal was willing to help. I could already see that to Neal the glass of life was always full, irrespective of absence of any liquid whatsoever at the time.

He ordered his favorite ethnic meal and a large bottle of white French table wine.

The next three hours were more than memorable. The joke about the Frenchman and his new but unreliable Citroen brought tears of laughter. It was one story after another until my ribs hurt from the laughing.

I remember him squeezing into a cab shortly before midnight and thought at the time, my God, even physically he is a giant of a man. My hotel was only three blocks away and I needed the walk, even in the cold rain. At the time, I thought, John the 23rd is probably a lot like Neal.

--Del Dunbar,
Dunbar & Martel, LLC

My father the late Barney Brewer and Neal went to U.D. together in the
early '50s studying journalism. His wife is my godmother. We had the
pleasure 10 years ago of visiting with him.

I especially enjoyed his personable non-pretentious character.

The Brewer family in Florida. Flora and her boys express our sadness and
sorrow for
the Shine family.

--Paul Brewer

I was the creative director of the ad agency that did the commercials for the Free Press. A writer. So when I had to meet with Neal in his office the first time to present scripts for his approval, to say that I was nervous is a huge understatement. I knew I was good at what I did, but to my mind, they were only commercials. Journalism was "real" writing. And Neal Shine was the real thing. A legend. I didn't feel like I belonged in the same room with him. Much less, to be discussing a lesser form of writing. His down-to-earthness put me (somewhat) at ease and I got through it. The scripts involved humor and he laughed in all the right places. When I finished, he walked me to the door and before he turned to go back to his desk, he uttered words I will never forget: "by the way ... you write pretty good, kid." I stammered. I blushed. I walked out of the building on a cloud. And I have no doubt that right now ... he's on one.

Neal should be remembered for his kindness as well as his professional stature.

--Garry Nielsen

Neal Shine was my grandpa, and I got to see up close what a truly caring person he was. From giving money to the poor around Comerica Park, where inside he loved to yell at the Tigers, to taking me and my sisters to deliver children's books at the Cabrini Clinic in Detroit.

These tributes mean a lot to my family and me. It's certain that his affection for the city of Detroit and talented journalistic abilities will be missed. So will his comical childhood stories, but his six kids, his wife Phyllis, and his 17 grandchildren will keep those stories and all his others alive. Even at the busiest times as an Editor or with a big speech ahead, he was always there for his family, whether a sporting event of his grandchildren, or an outing with his wife.

My grandpa won't get to see the first female president or the publishing of his book (on his mother), but the happiness and great family he had in life makes up for that. He'll now join many friends in a better place, and while his death occurred fast, I'm sure he will like it in the peaceful place he's going to. No more tubing trips at the cottage, instead, a blissful life in the ivory white clouds of heaven.

-- Ted Berkowski, grandson of Neal Shine

Neal Shine was a community man of great passion, and he loved Detroit as much as he loved the newspaper he worked for. After ten or so years at the Free Press, I walked into his office one afternoon and complained how I was fed-up, frustrated, misused, abused and not getting the stories I wanted to photograph.

He looked at me and said, "I know exactly how you feel, and that's ok, because that's journalism. Some days you're on a high and some days you're not. If you don't like the assignments you're getting then go out and and do what you want to do. If its good, we will publish it."

So I did. And from that day until now it's been working for me. He said my audience would eventually increase and one day no matter what my editors gave me to do or what I did on my own, people would recognize it and it would make a difference in their lives and the papers.

Because of him, I am a better journalist who more than often enjoys the work he is still doing after thirty eight years in the business.

Recently our families met in St. Ambrose Church as we sometimes often did through the years, with hugs and love and respect.

Neal Shine was one of those men who quietly had an impact on my life. He will be greatly missed like Charlie Haun and Tony Spina: Folks who made the Detroit Free Press the great paper that it is.

-- Hugh Grannum, staff photographer
Detroit Free Press

I’m a former student of Neal Shine, and for that I am thankful.

I’ve had some great professors at OU, and Shine was the first. I had two classes with him in the Fall of 2004, my first at a university and his last. During that time, I learned so much about journalism and even more about life in general. It was my intro to the field, and it couldn’t have come from a better professor.

The way Shine taught my classmates and I was so different than any other way I have ever been taught before. I’ve never heard such interesting stories of personal experiences, and that was the reason I loved going to class. I never missed a class. I was early almost every day and always one of the last to leave.

I just heard about the Neal’s passing about 20 minutes ago from a former classmate who sent me a message online. I live in Arizona right now, so I am more distant from Michigan news, but I immediately came to the Free Press website to get the details.

I will never forget Neal, his many stories and lessons he taught. He was one of the most interesting people I have ever met in my entire life, he was so lively, so hip and could relate to students of any age.

Who else besides me was doing Borat impersonations two years ago in my Ethics class? None other than Professor Shine. A true legend and person who I am honored to say I have not only met, but was able to know and admire. He will truly be missed, but he will always live on through all of the people whom lives he touched.

-- Jacob Bondarek, OU Alumni, 2006

I went to the U of M with Neal's son Jim. After graduating in 1978 we both landed jobs in the circulation department of the Free Press. However, I had the unfortunate experience of being terminated before my 90 day probation period was over. That night at the Shine dinner table, after patiently listening to my story, he told me that if I thought I could do the job that I should go get my job back. I did and I've been in the newspaper business ever since. It has afforded me a very good living and I owe much of it to him.

-- Pete Savoie

They used to say, "Behind every great man is a great woman." If Neal was doubly great, and he was, it was due, in part, to the tremendous character of TWO remarkable women....his mother and his wife. Neal knew what gifts from God they both were. His one piece of unfinished business was the book he was writing to honor Grandma Shine.

Everyone speaks of how hilarious Neal was. He got it from his mother. When he was inducted into the Michigan Journalism Hall of Fame, he told the audience "My mother said that there are more plaques than there are people, so sooner or later you're going to get one. When you do, don't let it go to your head."

And what an angel he married! For 54 years, Phyllis and Neal were married. Who does that anymore??!!? Neal and Phyllis raised a wonderful family....a LARGE family...and then through their incredible gift of hospitality.....they extended their love and affection to just about everybody! Their home was always open to everyone. It didn't matter if you were an intern or a publisher, the Shines made you feel welcome.

The Shines are always thoughtful. In all life's big moments: a birth, a wedding, a sickness, a surgery, a death....Neal and Phyllis would be there.

Neal and Peter were close for a very long time. There will be a large emptiness. Thanks, Neal, for helping us get started, and showing us how to keep going at times. You included us in that wonderful expanded family of yours. You will be missed. You have led a truly original life. When it comes to love and loyalty and justice...you set the bar!

-with love,

-- Katherine Gavrilovich

My father was big fan of Neal's, which of course, meant I would be too. As a little boy, I read the Free Press cover to cover nearly every day. My father Gus, a reasonably fair writer, would occasionally pipe up about something and invariably the paper (there was only one 'paper' in my house-we didn't speak of the old gray lady down the street) would print his musings.

Being a little boy who coveted his father's words, I would read the paper to see my dad's name in print. Seeing as how he wrote only occasionally, I began to look at the other writer's stuff and really began to enjoy the regular guy style of Neal's. I understood him, and grew to know this man as much as any man could having never shaken his hand or enjoyed a good drink with this fellow east-sider. When I traveled to Boston at the age of twelve to visit my older sister, I couldn't understand why they didn't have a 'Neal Shine' kind of column in the Boston paper-whichever one my sister read-I forget the name.

Neal's writing style, and his funny, down home stories never left me. After my dad died, I took up where he left off, piping up about this and that, and invariably, the 'paper' would print my musings. I pretty sure Neal and some guy named Talbert influenced me to the point my journalism professor gave up on me citing irreconcilable differences. I still got and 'A' but not without a lot 'plaining to do.

A couple of years ago, while rummaging through the Salvation Army store here in Petoskey, I ran across a copy of 'Neal Shine on Sunday.' I snatched it up faster than Miss Pepsi on certain Sundays in July. I took it home and just started reading. It was like going home, and I was so taken I called my older sister in Kansas City and read her column after column til we both were exhausted from laughing and/or crying.

Neal Shine was Detroit. He symbolized everything great about my hometown. And being a fellow eastsider, well, it hardly got any better then that!

I have long since left my hometown, but I am still proud to be called a Detroiter. It's a little tougher to admit being from the Motor City these days, but when I am feeling bad about my hometown, I pull out my copy of 'On Sundays' and relish in it's stories and the warm, vibrant writing. Now God has to listen to those stories about the Irish, the War, and difference between the east side and the west side and the urban adventures of living on The River.

Rest easy my friend...I think I hear a chuckle from the heavens above...

-- John Council
Petoskey, MI
NMU 2000-broadcasting and journalism

Neal Shine was one of the finest men I had ever met and the most compassionate boss I ever had. Neal hired me at the Free Press in 1975 fresh out of Wayne State’s journalism program. I was a general assignment reporter on the City Desk. My first assignment was covering a fire in which a child had died. I was paralyzed by the thought of having to intrude on the grieving parents just minutes after the tragedy. But Neal helped me to overcome my fears and inspired me to knuckle down and write the toughest story I ever filed. He and I remained friends long after I had left the Freep to take advantage of other opportunities. I loved Neal because he spoke softly and smiled a lot. I adored him because he was kind to everyone. He was caring. He was as down-to-earth as down-to-earth can get. He helped people whom society ignored. But most importantly, he loved Detroit unconditionally, as I do. And he wrote incessantly about his love affair with this city. I’m sure going to miss Neal. But thank God I have his writings to keep me smiling—and remembering a man whom God must have had in mind when He paused on the sixth day of creation to look at everything He had made and, as recounted in Genesis 1:31, was satisfied that “…it was very good.”

-- Carol A. Bowie former Free Press Reporter

I knew Neal for nearly 40 years. Neal's last name is what he did... shine. In a profession filled with gloom and doom and sarcasm and cynicism, Neal Shine towered like a lighthouse over this city and this newspaper's often stormy seas. He lived and breathed this newspaper and illuminated everything and everyone he encountered with a wit that bordered on genius. Of all the wonderful things he was -- a great editor, columnist, reporter, friend, mentor, teacher, critic, wiseguy and raconteur -- Neal was a leader. We followed him because he inspired us. He exuded confidence and gave us direction and purpose and loyalty and a joy that made us believe... no, know... we were part of a noble craft at a great newspaper. We grieve his passing not just because we will miss him terribly but because even in retirement, we knew Neal was always out there, reading us, spurring us on to be better, to beat the other guys and to have a lot of fun along the way. He called, kept in touch regularly, calling everybody by their last name and telling us he loved us. Neal was our leader. And we loved him more than he'll ever know.

-- Mike Wendland, columnist
Detroit Free Press

I'll always treasure Neal Shine. I was incredibly fortunate to meet him in 1983 when I took his college course, "Ethical Issues of the Media." It was because of the Shine-isms/tales of his incredible journey as a true newspaper man that I decided to chuck my television reporting career path to instead focus on having the space to tell more of the story. He gave me the head's-up that the Free Press was hiring so I walked across W. Lafayette Blvd. from WDIV-TV to meet him for a burger at the Anchor Bar to discuss it. He gave me the extra dollop of courage to go meet then-editor Joe Stroud, who became my first boss at the Free Press.

I will never forget his mantra: "If your mother tells you she loves you, you must get three other sources to confirm that before you believe it and publish it."

One unforgettable day was when a man came bursting in the door of our class asking for Professor so-and-so's class. Upon Shine telling him he had the wrong room, he apologized and exited. That was our first test to see just how observant we wannabe reporters really were, and Brian Flanigan, another Irish Free Press staffer now up in Heaven, was his co-conspirator. Brian returned to the classroom about five minutes later so we could see what color eyes he really had, what type of clothing he wore, and whether or not that scar was over his right or left eye. It was a great lesson he taught us that day.

Brother Shine will be welcomed by many who have predeceased him and I am fairly certain Flanigan cut to the front of the receiving line to welcome his old buddy and mentor, and I know Joe was right there by his side.

Neal also taught me something about making choices. When faced with the decision to go back to work when my first child was born, he told me my tears were my answer. Neal would be proud to know my youngest is going to 'thee' University of Michigan next Fall and he knew our eldest is at Kalamazoo College in her first year of study. I made the right decision by staying home, and I don't need to get three other sources to confirm that fact. Thank you, dear Neal. I love you.

-- Kendra McConnell Hurd
Commerce

Should the considerable body of Neal Shine’s storytelling ever be analyzed, I suspect it will reveal a surprising theme -- Neal's deepest commitment was not, after all, to his craft, to his newspaper or to his writing, it was to his wife, Phyllis.
I had the pleasure to be enlightened, illuminated and entertained by Neal during the three years we shared office space at OU, and as a wife myself, I noted with a certain smugness, that Phyllis played a starring role in each and every oral narrative he blessed me with.

The outpouring of homages to Neal rightfully recognizes his contributions to his profession, but between all those lines of copy unravels a love story that anyone would envy.

The last time I saw them, they were walking to their car after the wedding of an OU grad. It was a perfect August evening, the sun was setting, and they were chatting and laughing and Neal was holding Phyllis’ hand.

And he meant it.

That’s how he did everything.

But it really started there, with his wife.

-- Holly Shreve Gilbert, journalism instructor
Oakland University

One thing the Free Press article on Neal Shine’s unfortunate passing didn’t mention was how he dedicated a lot of his retirement time teaching the art of journalism to students at Oakland University.

I, like many, had the privilege of taking two classes with Mr. Shine, ethics and feature writing. I can honestly say that Mr. Shine was the reason I enjoy feature writing the most. He taught me how to capture the reader with my lead, and then reel them in like a fishing line with the use of my clever words. He always had fun stories to tell in his time in the business, and always made us laugh.

I think I can speak for my fellow OU alumni when I say Neal Shine can never be replaced, but his wisdom he instilled in us students will live on forever.

-- Casey Irey

Neal Shine literally invented the office “Open Door Policy” and it was always sincere. I met him just by walking into his office one day and introducing myself. To my surprise he actually took time from his busy day to spend a few minutes with me (an advertising sales rep). As a fairly new Free Press employee, I was shocked to discover what an important job he held. But, he was never too busy to talk to the folks that worked at the paper or folks in the community. That’s what made Neal Shine different from others.

Another pleasant surprise for me was when Neal walked through the door in the Wayne State University Journalism Dept. as my first journalism instructor. What a great experience.

People in the community loved him. As a matter of fact, to many of the readers Neal Shine and the Free Press were synonymous. If you mentioned Neal Shine out in the community it opened the door for a comment, a smile, a Neal Shine story, or tell Mr. Shine I said Hello. And, in many cases if I said Detroit Free Press they would ask about Neal Shine. Neal was in the community almost as much as I was, and my full time job was working in the community. He had two full time jobs; Publisher and Detroit Free Press community icon.

When times were difficult during the JOA transition, I could always go to his office for a funny Neal Shine story to cheer me up. His stories were not just funny, they were hilarious. He could tell a story like no one else. I guess that’s why he was such a “Great Newspaper Man.”

-- Laydell (Harper) Wyatt,
former Detroit Newspapers Community Affairs Director

Neal Shine taught me that anything is possible.

The year was 1991. I was 14 years old and enamored by the Detroit Free Press. I wrote the paper that summer, asking for a tour. The managing editor, Bob McGruder called me personally and welcomed me to the building.

With stars in my eyes, Bob took me through each department, and introduced me to all the great writers of that time. The last stop was Neal Shine's office. I walked in, and Neal jumped up like I was the most important person of the day. He shook my hand and sat me down for what became a pretty long conversation. Neal made me feel like I could do and be whatever I wanted in life.

I would later go on to spend a lot of time at the Free Press as an apprentice. Neal always kept his door open for me, and all of the young journalism hopefuls. Today I am a television reporter, and I attribute much of my success to Neal and the open door at the Freep.

-- Tonya Mosley
Seattle, Washington

In 1980, I was brought to Detroit to run a sports department that might be described as Animal House without the savoir-faire. It had one female professional among its staff of 30 or so writers and editors -- the only previous woman member had been hounded out of the place. My assignment was to modernize the place. I was not welcomed as a hero.

Before I got to town, Neal Shine sent me a memo -- a long, typewritten memo -- describing the strengths and weaknesses, personality and foibles of every staff member. Each assessment proved right on. I would have several fine Free Press bosses who guided me in the way of budgets, editorial standards and promotion of my section. Neal was the person who knew the people.

In that memo, by way of welcome, historian Neal recounted the words of a German general who’d sent a subordinate to the Russian front. It will be interesting, the general had said. He predicted my stay would be, too. It was. And that was Neal. My life would be less without 27 years of the friendship of Neal and Phyllis.

-- Joe Distelheim, Free Press 1980-90

If anyone would be able to cheat death, I thought it would be Neal Shine, who always seemed larger than life. I came to know him the last 10 years when he taught reporting and ethics at Oakland University. He crossed generations and mesmerized students 50 years younger with his wonderful war stories about newspapering. I cannot recall a better genuine storyteller. When he walked into a classroom, he captured everyone with his charm and wit. His students are his legacy.

-- Garry Gilbert

In 1976 I joined the Freep family as a cityroom copy-kid. It was an exciting job for a college student, though I recall how some reporters and editors could be difficult to work with under the pressures of daily deadlines. Neal Shine was an exception. He was ever friendly and patient with us -- and young, goofy college kids could certainly try anyone's patience.

One slow night, as a skeleton crew awaited the second edition, I demonstrated a fun activity to the newest copy-kid. I painted a long stripe of rubber cement down the cityroom's linoleum floor, and dropped a lit match. As the 2-3 foot tall flames flashed and died, I realized that Neal was standing behind me. I inwardly cringed, and awaited a chewing-out. He wearily shook his head, smiled, and strolled to the elevators. Good-bye Neal.

-- Shannon Ross-Albers
Special Education Teacher
Airport Community Schools

It’s not easy to evoke love and passion when you write, especially when you are doing it on a newspaper’s deadline. Somehow, Neal Shine did it week after week with his columns in the Detroit Free Press. He made you care: whether it was about the people in his columns, the newspaper he so dearly loved or this city that most had long since turned their backs on. He cared. And he made you care.

Thought I never met Neal Shine, he was a source for years of motivation and inspiration to me in his columns, especially while I was a kid growing up in metro Detroit, delivering the Free Press on my bike and aspiring to work at Neal’s beloved paper as a reporter. I devoured his every word and dreamed I’d someday see my name in the Free Press.

Thanks Neal. You will be missed.

-- Jeffrey McCracken
Detroit Free Press news carrier 1984-1989
Detroit Free Press reporter 2000-2005

I'm looking out of the kitchen window of our home on Bedford in Grosse Pointe Park into the kitchen window of the home next door that used to filled with the Shine family. When their children grew up and they moved to St Clair Shores, Bedford wasn't the same.

When our children were "missing" in the early '80s they could be found in the Shine kitchen feasting on popsicles.

When Michigan or Michigan State went to a Rose Bowl, Neal and Phyllis toasted the New Year with a football party for family, friends and neighbors complete with Coneys and plenty of beer.

When Neal and Phyllis left town for whatever reason, Bedford was sure to be lined with cars on both sides of the street. Never found any cans or bottles on our lawn, however.

When the BIG windstorm swept through the area, I climbed the Shine roof and dislodged a large tree limb after Neal discovered the roof had somehow become a little steeper over the years. Then he was kind enough to return the favor with a humerous luncheon speech to a group of businessmen I was involved with.

When people asked where we lived, it was next to the Shine's, not on Bedford. Neal and Phyllis WERE Bedford.

Our oldest son just bought a house on Kensington. He has 3 daughters ages 3, 2 and 1. Their next door neighbor is Peggy Shine.

I'll bet Neal taught her about popsicles.

-- Bill Harrington
Former neighbor

It was the early '60s when Neal and I first met, having both moved on to the same block in Centerline. We both attended St Clements, had six children,and were from the far east side of Detroit. I will always remember his Irishness, especially when he would walk home from our end of the block after dark, checking the shadows in the cemetary across from our house. I always eyed him safely home.

He was on the City Desk then. Although he was my intellectual superior, he never let it be known to me. He was among the most down-to-earth, action people I have ever known. We worked the early Civil Rights issues together. He was directly responsible for defusing a highly volatile situation in the suburbs and saved my tail in the process. He went on to help found Focus Hope with Father Cunningham after the '68 trouble in Detroit, and aided them thru all the stages of their development, which was significant. Both Katherine & I have only fond memories of our history with Neal and Phylis.

-- Bill Immergluck

I had the good fortune to meet Neal Shine because his son Dan is among my closest friends. Neal embodied what was great in American journalism and what seems to be in diminishing supply -- a connection to one place, a belief that good writing springs from reporting rather than ego, an interest in what a person is rather than who a person is, and an unbending commitment to fairness. All of this was in full display when Neal borrowed a church van to take a bunch of us from Dallas on a tour of his Detroit when we visited for a NCAA basketball regional years ago; I learned as much about newspapering that day as I did about Neal's city. I'll miss the glee he took in calling me "Gonzalez." Hubba, hubba, big guy.

-- Joseph Garcia
Chapel Hill, NC

Just before I moved here 22 years ago from out of town for a job in television news, our realtor suggested I should chat with a fellow parishioner of hers, and soon to be neighbor of mine, Neal Shine, about living and working in Detroit. He was, of course, gracious, helpful, and damn funny, and he piqued my interest about hitting the streets as a reporter.

A few years later, he wrote a charming (at least we thought so) column about our two kids showing up on his doorstep for Halloween. Even after I changed jobs, we continued to see each other in church or at news functions or fundraisers. In 2000, Neal talked me and several other friends of his into joining him for a government sanctioned trip to Cuba. Evaluating his role as our host and guide, most of us agreed that Neal should definitely keep his day job and told him so. Never missing a beat, he pointed out that he was retired and didn't have one.

Neal and his kids and his kids' kids would fill a pew or two at St. Ambrose on Sundays. Much to the chagrin of our wives, we'd stay after mass many times and keep jawing until the church emptied out and was locked up. I'm so grateful for those conversations, in which we solved most -- if not all -- of the world's problems. Maybe it's because we're both Irish, but I'm sure when we meet again Neal will have another round of great stories to share.

-- Ned McGrath, Director of Communications, Archdiocese of Detroit

After reading many Free Press columns authored by Neal Shine, it was my good fortune to know him as an Oakland University journalism professor. He was a gifted wordsmith and storyteller extraordinaire who shared his wit, widsom, and sage advice in a way that was truly unique and memorable. His grade in my book = A+.

-- Barb Browne
P.S. I recommend a good read -- "Shine on Sundays" -- a compilation of his columns and part of the sizeable legacy he bestowed to the greater metropolitan community.

I only had the privilege of knowing Mr. Neal Shine for one semester at Oakland University for his Ethics class. But what a semester it was. Being in the presence of a man of such passion, conviction and a genuine love for what he believed in, has been a great inspiration in my life. Neal helped you to see things in a new light, through different eyes, to challenge your beliefs and see things from someone else's perspective.

Today the light in Detroit has grown a little dimmer, but through the many lives he touched his light will continue to shine.

-- Sue (King) Yax, Oakland University Alumni, 1997

As Executive Director of Leadership Oakland, I had the pleasure of knowing Neal first as a respected speaker and presenter and then as a friend. Along with our members we learned from Neal, were inspired by his stories and challenged by him to always lead with impeccable ethics in our business and personal relationships. He made us laugh and sometimes touched us to the point of tears. He teased me terribly and I loved every minute of it. I could always count on a greeting from Neal to include a big bear hug. He led with his heart as well as his head and was everything we encourage our leaders to be. This past fall, Neal got our group involved in a book drive. Seems he collected new children’s books and then personally delivered them to classrooms and needy children because “everyone needs a new book to love.” Our members came through big time and collected several hundred books in a short amount of time. Now our members are once again stepping up to the plate. We want to continue this book drive and delivery service and do it in the name of this great leader and friend of Leadership Oakland. We won’t let you down Neal. I promised you that last fall and we will continue to “do you proud!” The kids in Southeast Michigan will continue to get books -- each one with a sticker inside reading: “In memory of Neal Shine-one of the world’s great leaders.”

-- Chris Scharrer, Executive Director, Leadership Oakland

In a world with too few heroes one of the great ones was taken from us today.

-- Joanne Jennings
Royal Oak, MI

Kurt Luedtke and I were talking this afternoon and Luedtke even sounded sad and we resolved that, even in death, Neal Shine was funny, with his Irish stories like Joyce’s, like corpses leaping out of the coffin at the wake and his family’s lunatic neighbors back in the Irish boondocks, some of whom built bombs that they carried in their underpants. Then there was the story about the Lafayette St. zany who had a machine gun he wanted Neal to see -- which he then carried right past our crack lobby security guard who told him in detail how to get himself and the long, rectangular, apparently heavy package wrapped in brown paper to Mr. Shine’s office on Three. At a newspaper dinner 10 years ago, I told a story about the afternoon I wrote Tennessee Williams’s obit on deadline and it was so exhilarating -- to me and Neal, anyhow -- that he said I should tell it at every journalism confab thereafter. Which I have proceeded to do because, if Neal said you should do something in the journalism, you should do it. God love that fine sweet man.

--Lawrence DeVine, Detroit Free Press Theater Critic (1968-1998)

I was a journalism student at Oakland University from 1999 to 2003. I had Neal Shine as a professor in my Senior year for a feature writing class and an Ethics class. Mr. Shine had a lasting impression on my work ethic and self confidence. He had a personal connection to his students, and he would not let any of us slip by without learning some bits of wisdom from him.

I remember many of the things he told us as students at Oakland University. The most memorable quote, is one that I often recite to myself at times of challenge in my life. It is one that I have passed on to friends and family who are at crossroads in their life. In a final good bye at the end of the semester Shine was talking to our class about his rise from copy boy to publisher at the Free Press, and he said: "I have never had a position which I felt good enough to do." That always struck me as very inspirational, and
helpful, especially to a group of college kids getting ready to enter into the work world.

Here was a greatly influential man who was the publisher of one of the largest papers in the country, and he also felt insecurities at every step.

I often remind myself of what he said when I am embarking on a new venture as a source of courage. You may think you are not quite ready, but you are there for a reason, and you can do it.

Not only was he an inspiration, but Neal Shine was a very caring person.

He is the only professor I ever had who actually called me at my home! After I used his name as a reference for an internship, he called me and gave me a lecture. I had often been tardy to his class, and sometimes careless in my writing, and he called me out on it, and set me straight. He was not over bearing, or mean, but in his caring way he got the message to me that I needed to be more careful and take things more seriously, because carelessness would not be accepted in the workplace. After the call was over, I was very embarrassed and angry with him for calling and lecturing me. However, I now feel grateful to him for reaching to to me, because he was RIGHT! And I don't think that I would made it in the news business if he had not set me straight.

I will never forget Neal Shine, his compassion for his students, his love of Detroit, his commitment to journalism, or his characteristic voice. Thank you Neal!

-- Amy Lockard
Clinton Township, MI

As a one-time competitor, in my days as a reporter at The Royal Oak Tribune, I remember Neal Shine with great profesional admiration and respect.

Neal was a first-class journalist and a permanent "presence" during Detroit's heyday as one of America's truly great newspaper towns, when the Free Press, the News and the Times went head to head every day and the battle spilled over into Oakland County, allowing more of us to share in the action and the excitement.

His commitment to Detroit journalism and to the city itself clearly was boundless. However the news business has changed and where ever it's going, Detroit will always be a richer city for having had Neal and others like him standing up for honest, grit journalism when it counted. Condolences to Neal Shine's family and to the Free Press.

-- Richard Pyle
The Associated Press
New York

I’ll always remember a time when my father was sick, and after he had come home from the hospital, Mr. Shine called our house to check in on him.

My dad was sleeping at the time, so I asked Mr. Shine if I could take a message.

“Just tell him that I called and that I love him,” was his reply.

He expressed love for others with great ease. We should all be so lucky to have such a talent.

-- Joe Gavrilovich
Raleigh, NC

What a sad day. We have lost a remarkable man.

I was blessed to have Neal Shine as a teacher and mentor at Oakland University. Everyone wanted in Neal's classes. I felt like I won the lottery when I registered and landed in his Ethical Issues in the Media and Feature Writing classes.

Neal was funny, kind, wise and passionate about journalism. He imparted that passion to his students. He had the ability to make you feel special. I always wished Neal would have taught more classes, I would have taken every one.

I will always remember the lessons learned in his classes and I will keep Neal Shine in my memory as not only a great teacher, but a wonderful human being.

-- Susan Bromley

In the fall of '83 I was fortunate enough to take a class in journalism ethics taught by Mr. Shine through Oakland University. With Mr. Shine as the instructor, the class was filled immediately and those of us who signed up early counted ourselves among the lucky ones.

The highlight of the class -- and there were many thanks to the bottomless well of stories from Mr. Shine, to his regular sit-in substitute, the colorful reporter Brian Flanagan -- had to be the night we viewed "Absence of Malice," followed by an in-depth Q&A discussion after the class with the author of the screenplay, Kurt Ludeke.

He regaled us with stories about the filming of the movie and with stories about its prankster star, Paul Newman. When someone asked Ludke what he was working on next, he told us of a new screenplay he was writing which turned out to be his Oscar-winning screenplay for "Out of Africa."

After I graduated I was fortunate to be at the fifth game of the '84 World Series when the Tigers beat the Padres. The party spilled out into the streets around the ballpark and somehow I found myself standing outside the Free Press building. I casually asked a guard in the lobby if Mr. Shine was in. With one quick phone call Mr. Shine had the guard send my brother and I up to the newsroom where he proudly showed us the famous Mary Schroeder photo that was going to be on the front page of millions of copies of the next day's Free Press.

I don't know which was more exciting: being at the ballgame, or being in the newsroom of the paper I had read as a young man with a former instructor who made me feel so special and privileged with what for him was probably a simple gesture, but for me was the journalistic thrill of a lifetime.

Mr. Shine used to always tell the class of how he took great pride in the grammatical accuracy of his weekly column which ran in the Sunday Free Press magazine section. I have always tried to use his example of decency and accuracy to guide me in all things journalistic and in life as well.

God bless you, Mr. Shine. You have touched the hearts and minds of so many.

-- Lindsay Bowe
Roseville, MI

Somewhere back in the 1980s, the Detroit Auto Dealers Association held an annual high school writing competition in conjunction with the Auto Show. I was asked to serve as one of the judges. The invitation to judge was flattering, but the real honor was knowing that at least once a year -- for two blessed, uninterrupted hours -- I got to have lunch with head judge Neal Shine at the old London Chop House.

I’ve not met anyone before or since who knew so much about so many and could weave such fascinating stories from pure memory. What a raconteur! Sitting across from him, listening to his journalistic exploits enhanced by the wink of his Irish eye, I was transfixed. And even though I was employed by “the enemy” at that time, he treated me, as he treated everyone, with warmth and respect.

Anyone who ever met or read Neal Shine knows this is true: We shall not see his like again in our lifetime. Saints preserve you, sir.

-- Jim McFarlin
Former Detroit News columnist (1979-1995)

I had the honor of getting to know Neal Shine during the 1980s, when I worked for WTVS. He always listened to my ideas, even when they were filled with a bit of anger and despair. What impressed me most was his appreciation of people. Neal remembered my brother who was a copyboy for the Free Press during the summer of 1967. That elevated Neal to sainthood in my eyes.

-- Cecilia Garcia

Neal Shine and Kurt Luedtke were the "Butch and Sundance" of newspaper recruiters, famous on campuses from Lincoln, Nebraska to New York City for their wit, straight talk and picking up huge bar tabs. They weren't the usual newspaper geezers telling old war stories, but combatants covered in muck and blood, taking a few days away from the front line to round up some fresh troops for the battle. As a freshman at Ohio State, I was instantly smitten with the Free Press and them. Forty years later, Neal's spirit hangs in the air around newsrooms like the Cheshire Cat's smile. I used to stand outside my Jefferson Ave. apartment building in the morning waiting for for Neal, Walker Lundy and Jim Harper to pick me up to ride to work in the company car dubbed "The Chickenbone Special." I think that was in Walker's honor. He and Harper were among the many Southerners recruited to the Freep. The joke was that every once in awhile Neal drove a flat bed truck through the South with a sign on the side saying "$5 a day in Detroit." Those who hopped on became the core of the city room. Not just Walker and Jim, but great storytellers including Remer Tyson, Billy Bowles and so many more. Riding the Chickenbone Special, Neal seemingly had an anecdote about every block we passed. He wasn't just amusing us though, he was deepening our bonds to him and the city he loved. All of us who worked for Neal feel blessed. Several months ago I wrote to him about the great job his son, Tom, is doing at The Wichita Eagle. Neal wote back. When he wrote back he was, as always, gracious, funny and filled with love of family and the newspaper business. He'll live on in the work of the thousands whose lives and careers he touched.

-- Lou Heldman
The Wichita Eagle

Neal learned my husband, Geoffrey Tomb, and I would be vacationing in Ireland at the same time his family was holding a reunion in an Irish castle. It had been owned by the big landowner on whose property the Shine family had been tenant farmers. He invited us to join a party there. Of course, we did. Neal felt that the right order of the universe had been restored: The Shine family was now occupying the big house.

A few years later, I was in Detroit at a Free Press dinner. The Knight Ridder board was meeting there. I was seated among some community bigwigs. Neal came to my table. With him were two brothers. They scowled. Neal accused me of stealing the family silver when I visited them in Ireland. The community reps around me looked on in horror. I hung my head in shame.

But Neal couldn’t keep a straight face. Pretty soon we all were howling. My table mates were clueless about the whole thing. It didn’t matter. It was enough to know Neal. There’d be a story behind all this, and they’d eventually hear it.

Neal’s kindness, humor and ethics made us all better and happier people. Could anyone be more gifted than that?

In loving tribute,

-- Mary Jean Connors

Hey, Neal: You’ve got a helluva nerve dying. We weren’t ready to close the back cover on the book – the story of what you and lots of us called The Golden Age of Detroit Newspapers. News, Times, and Free Press. Bingay and Angelo and Trainor and Girardin and Salsinger and some drunken reporter bringing a police horse up to the Detroit Times city room on the freight elevator. When you were in your third year as a copy boy and I was in my first, we’d sometimes meet late evenings at the Associated Press picking up the late-day wirephotos. You’d start babbling a story, maybe some adventure in your Irish Catholic neighborhood. Then I’d give you late editions of the Times, you’d give me early editions of the Free Press. We’d take them back to our offices. When we got older: Lunches at the Ponchartrain Wine Cellars and you’d tell me more of those stories. Damn. Who’s going to tell them to me now.

-- Norman Prady

The world has lost one of the good ones with the passing of Neal Shine. As a student in his feature writing class at Oakland University, Shine taught me that journalists can -- and should -- make a positive difference in the lives of others. Now, years later and as a reporter just starting out in the business, I think back on the things he taught me almost daily. He was a teacher in the truest sense of the word. He will be greatly missed.

-- Laurel Droz

Some of us lost Neal Shine 12 years ago, in the strike. He believed we were wrong, and we believed he was. He signed the letter that took away my job forever. When it was over, there was no way to reconcile what was said and done. I, like many others, had to lock away my life at the Free Press and my nearly invincible connection to Shine, and move on. The last time I saw him we didn’t speak. I was standing in front of his car, part of a picket line blocking the entrance to the parking lot.


I lost so many things in that strike – my job, my home in Detroit, my natural-born ability to trust people. My family – a dual-income Free Press couple - was financially devastated, and had to decamp as soon as one of us found a new job. After a rocky move northeast with our two small children, my marriage foundered. Then, my health did, for a time.

I do not regret in the slightest the stand we took, or the choices we made. What I regret is that the course we set upon July 13, 1995, the day the strike began, meant losing Shine. I think we were about as close as it’s possible to be, given that it was nonethless possible for it to end the way it did.

My friend, my publisher, used to come into the Free Press Magazine office where I worked, usually late in the day or early in the evening, and tell me the most amazing things. There was the story of the first time he saw a girl naked. He told me about learning to read, one of his earliest memories. And about the time he and some buddies “mummified” a drunk guy in butcher paper and propped him up outside his front door. And about his vasectomy – which he learned was successful when the doctor left a message with a copyboy. “Mr. Shine,” the kid hollered across the city room, “you have no sperm.”

He was so thrilled when I got pregnant after a long, difficult effort. When my baby girl died in my ninth month of pregnancy, he cried tears that plopped into my hair. He was our sponsor when we adopted Charlie, and then Mia.

Shine got mad at me a few times; it was always about my getting into a huff over some trivial offense and getting snarky with some nice secretary or parking lot operator or bank teller that he knew. I only got mad at him once.

“Who’d you fire today, Shine?” I asked him cordially on one of those nights he sauntered in looking for banter. “Nobody,” he chuckled, “but if I did fire someone, I’ll tell you who it would be.” And he did tell me. And I was incensed. “That’s not the kind of thing you should be telling me!” I railed at him. “I should not know that, you a------!” I could not believe I called him an a------.

For the record, he was not one. He never was, not even when we believed we were right, and he believed we were wrong. I never thought that. I was never even mad at him. Just unspeakably, unbearably sad, a dozen years ago, and now.

-- Toni Martin

When I came to work at the Free Press, my job interview consisted of many beers with Neal and News Editor John Oppedahl at Pegasus in Greektown. We kept eating and drinking and they kept telling stories. They never asked me a question. When we were the last people in the place, Neal turned to me and said: "So, are you going to take the job?" I wasn't sure what they were offering, but how could I say no?

Over the years, in my classes and seminars, I have repeated many of Neal's stories. Neal himself was a lesson in perseverance. He mentored some of the great names in journalism -- Jim Batten, Van Gordon Sauter, Nancy Woodhull and Al Neuharth -- only to be passed over for the top job at the Free Press. When he came out of retirement to become publisher, I called him to congratulate him. I asked him what it was like to finally be publisher. He said, "I spent my entire career blaming the a--hole upstairs. Now I am the a--hole upstairs." The kindest, gentlest, funniest a--hole I ever met.

Despite having six kids of their own, Neal and Phyllis took Free Press refugees into their home and treated us like family. My heart today goes out to the real family and the generations of the Free Press family he mentored.

-- Mike Smith
Executive Director
Media Management Center
Northwestern University

I met Mr. Shine back around 1994 when the Greater Detroit Chapter of the National Society of Fund Raising Executives established its Neal Shine Award for Media Commitment to Philanthropy, which has been awarded each year since to a local media celebrity who is personally committed to promoting philanthropy. The award is presented at an annual event known as National Philanthropy Day, and Mr. Shine always took part in the ceremony and presented the award to such local media dignitaries as Mort Crim, Mary Kramer, Joe Falls and Amyre Makupson. And nearly every year I had the good fortune of writing Mr. Shine's remarks -- what a dream job that was! He always made me feel as if I was the best writer to ever grace the planet. He was a truly fine gentleman and my heart goes out to his family for their loss. And I am sorry for Detroit, too, because you don't see many people like Neal Shine climbing up through the ranks these days.

-- Pamela Bright
Grants Coordinator
Boys & Girls Clubs of Southeastern Michigan (B&GCSM)

Neal embodied all that is honorable, funny and compassionate about journalism. He came out of retirement more times than Michael Jordan, but unlike Mike, he made the team a little better each time he came back.

A couple years ago just before Christmas, my friend, Free Press stalwart John Gallagher, our wives and I were having dinner at the Baile Corcaigh in Corktown, one of hundreds of places in this metro area where Neal’s spirit will live on.

We were about to order dessert when the waiter brought over a round of Irish coffees “compliments of the gentleman in the corner.” We all turned around and there he was, smiling like a Gaelic Santa Claus. St. Peter’ sense of humor has just been recharged. What a legacy!

-- Greg Gardner
Free Press alum (1988-1995)

I briefly met Neal Shine during a high school mentoring program. I had the pleasure of coming to the Free Press to job shadow some staffers to see if journalism was really what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. During my last day there, I was introduced to Neal and was able to sit down with him for a couple of minutes to receive some pointers. As I left, he handed me a Free Press T-shirt. That generosity echoes the type of man he was. It also shows how devoted he was to his job. He told me to wear that shirt with pride. And I did, knowing the sincerity behind the gift.

Over the years, I've met his son, Dan, and gotten to know his daughter-in-law, Kim. My sympathies to them, to all of the Shine family, to the Free Press, but mostly to its readers who today lost one of the best people who ever graced the pages of this Detroit newspaper.

-- Jason Alley
Staff Writer, The News-Herald Newspapers, Southgate

Many years ago, about the time that Absence of Malice came out, Neal was kind enough to be the keynote speaker at the regional convention that I helped chair for the Society of Professional Journalists in Wichita, Kansas -- no doubt, in part, because it meant he could visit his son who was working there.

His off-the-cuff speech (alas, he later swore there were no formal notes) was easily the funniest, most illuminating and inspiring speech about journalism I have ever heard in more than 35 years of attending such gatherings across the country.

The nut graf of "The Seduction of A Goooood Story" was that journalists must be on guard against the unconscious fudging of facts when Truth gets in the way of scoring a big, sexy scoop. I have related his speech to scores of colleagues over the years (and had to remind myself of it a few times) but I've never been able to match his lack of preachiness and his gentle humor when he intoned in a faux bass voice like the Devil tempting a choirboy: "You don't want to think about that little fact because you are working on A Goooood Story."

Unlike so many others, he truly understood the pressures of putting out a daily newspaper from the view of those in the trenches, yet he never saw those realities as an excuse for abrogating our responsibilities.

Thanks for lesson, Neal.

-- Wm. F. Hirschman
Senior Writer
Sun-Sentinel
Fort Lauderdale, Fl.

I was a reporter at the Free Press for a quarter century but will never forget my introduction to the paper and Neal Shine.

I finished up half-hour interview with him in his office and was leaving the room to head back out of town, when he suddenly charged from behind his desk and shouted, “Stop! Thief!”

To my acute embarrassment, I then realized I had left my London Fog raincoat coat in another office and was taking his off a hanger near the door.

As I stood there speechless, he hung his head sorrowfully. “I’m afraid I am going to have to tell all these people that the interview went great but the S.O.B. tried to steal my coat!”

A line right out of the Front Page!

I fear we won’t see his like again on our newspapers.

-- Barry Rohan

I had the honor of being a student in two of Mr. Shine's journalism classes during his time at Oakland University. To say his classes were a treat would be a drastic understatement. I am not exaggerating when I say I've been reminded of one of his lessons every day I have spent as a journalist since my graduation from Oakland.

Through his stories and insight, his love of the profession was contagious. But his passion about journalism paled in comparison to the love he so obviously felt for his family.

Outside of the classroom, even after graduation, Mr. Shine quickly became someone I could depend on for a good deal of advice-- whether I needed input about a possible career move or a honeymoon in Ireland, he was always there to point me in the right direction.

One of the first things I displayed in my office was a 'good luck' note he wrote me shortly after my graduation. I keep it in a frame on my desk. Each time I look at it, I'm reminded of what a blessing it was to have had the opportunity to know Mr. Shine -- one of the most wonderful, selfless, kind-hearted people I've been privileged to meet.

Mr. Shine, you truly were the "most loved."

-- Emily Prawdzik Genoff, a student in Neal Shine's Feature Writing and Media Ethics class

I met Mr. Shine (my Catholic upbringing won't allow me to refer to him as Neal) while attending Grosse Pointe South. With his children Dan and Peggy attending the school the same time I did, Mr. Shine was active in parent organizations. He would do this despite his need to put a paper to bed every evening. Whether chaperoning a dance or just watching a football game, Mr. Shine showed character, leadership, commitment to community and humility. And, yes like portrayed in so many of the other tributes here - he was incredibly funny!

-- Brad Wilson
Sarasota, Fla.

My family and I go way back with Neal. My great grandmother would often watch over Neal and his brother. My parents and I often read his weekly column in the Freep that he wrote as editor and then I had the pleasure of being a student of his at The University of Detroit where he taught a class on ethics in journalism. I shall never forget his voice and wisdom. May God Bless him and his family.

-- David B. Weaver

I had the honor of having Mr. Shine as my Feature Writing Professor at Oakland University. Over the course of the semester, my writing grew to new heights I never thought possible. I give him sole credit for my love of the written word.

-- Aaron Perez

I worked in the Free Press personnel office from 1974 to 1976. One of my duties was to test editorial applicants for Neal Shine who was then Managing Editor. The first time I ever saw him he was wearing a red and white checked sport shirt.

He was one of the finest, friendliest men I have ever known. Years later he saw me on the street and remembered my name.

My deepest sympathy to his family. They have suffered a great loss.

-- Ann Martin
Farmington Hills, MI

While I never knew Mr. Shine, my mother attended high school with him and spoke very highly of him. At a high school reunion some time back he and my mom recalled a story that Neal then wrote an article about. The story was about Neal's letter-men sweater and how he was a perfect gentleman towards my mother. Our thoughts and prayers are with the entire Shine family during this time.

-- Paul Waldecker
Clarkston, Michigan

Legions of young journalists called him Uncle Neal. He was my first mentor, a wonderful teacher, a gentleman's gentleman and always a friend. He was one helluva newsman, but his humanity always stood out. He really cared.

-- Patty LaNoue Stearns
Freelance Food and Travel Writer, Traverse City, MI

I couldn't help but cry when I heard the news today. I'll never forget the first day I met him. I was a 19-year-old college sophomore with little direction sitting in News Writing 101 at Oakland University in 1996, wondering why the hell I chose this class. In walks Neal Shine. In the span of 10 minutes, he had us convinced journalism was one of the most challenging, honorable and important fields to enter. I haven't looked back since. I may have had him for only two classes, but he made such an impression I invited him to my graduation party in 1999. Guess what? He showed up. What a guy.

I'm a reporter at The Macomb Daily now, and last saw Neal at the SPJ-Detroit awards last June. I'm so grateful I had the opportunity to sit down with him one last time and thank him for everything he meant to my life and my career. He was brave, honest, dedicated, and most importantly, funnier than hell. Thank you Neal.

-- Andrea Nobile-Westfall
Special Sections Coordinator/Staff Writer
The Macomb Daily

Neal Shine is one of the reasons I am addicted to reading the Free Press every day. I always got pleasure from his writing. His humor and obvious dedication inspired me.

In July 1988, Neal invited readers from the West side of Detroit to compete with readers from the East side. The winners would replace his column while he was on vacation. He alternated "sides" and we were rewarded with reading a vast array of Detroiter’s memories complete with the pros and cons of East–vs-West.

I was lucky enough to be chosen as one of those "guest columnists” proudly representing the west side of Detroit. I had the entire page framed and it still hangs in my home as a reminder of my 15 minutes of fame, thanks to Neal Shine.

I will think of him and his family often in the days to come.

God speed Neal.

-- Maggi Harfoot, Wixom, Michigan

I still carry in my planner a nice note that Neal sent to me after I left the newspapers in 1992. I remember Neal fondly -- he was a very sweet guy, with an easy sense of humor. My sympathies to his family.

-- Cheryl (Sanborn) Borkowski

Neal Shine was my friend for more than 38 years.

For starters, he was flat out the funniest man I ever knew. He could make me
laugh in the darkest hour.

He also was one of the most decent people. In any situation, his instinct was to do the right thing. Working with him would make you a better journalist but it also would make you a better person.

If you didn't like Neal, there was something wrong with you -- not him. In most newspaper obits, the deceased’s friends make him out to be the second finest man to ever walk the earth.

In Neal’s case, he was pretty close.

-- Walker Lundy, former City Editor, the Free Press

Neal Shine was my friend for more than 38 years.

For starters, he was flat out the funniest man I ever knew. He could make me
laugh in the darkest hour.

He also was one of the most decent people. In any situation, his instinct was to do the right thing. Working with him would make you a better journalist but it also would make you a better person.

If you didn't like Neal, there was something wrong with you -- not him. In most newspaper obits, the deceased’s friends make him out to be the second finest man to ever walk the earth.

In Neal’s case, he was pretty close.

-- Walker Lundy, former City Editor, the Free Press

I have a couple of things that I have carried around in my briefcase for years now -- from city to city and newspaper job to newspaper job. I pull them out when I need a reminder of why in the world doing newspapering is still worth it. One is the Free Press front page with Neal Shine's column marking the Free Press' 170th birthday. The other is a letter that Neal wrote me when it was announced I was returning to the Free Press as managing editor.

Both are getting frayed from age and my re-reading them. Both will be in my briefcase until they are dust. What Neal meant to me and so many others, though, will never fade away.

-- Thom Fladung, Editor, St. Paul (Minn.) Pioneer Press; former Managing Editor of the Free Press

I worked at the Freep from 1970 until 1999 and if ever I looked for leadership, guidance, support or a tough-but-deserved opinion, I looked to Neal Shine. A lot of great newspeople -- men and women -- have passed through the Free Press but none more deserving of respect than Neal Shine.

-- Charlie Vincent, former Free Press sports columnist

I was privileged to have Neal Shine as a journalism professor during his last semester teaching at Oakland University. I am confident that his devotion to fairness and ethics throughout the years has made a lasting impression in both the field of journalism and throughout the world.

-- Andrea Zarczynski

In my career, nobody taught me more about journalism, media ethics and treating people more fairly than Neal. My favorite college professor and a long-time friend, he made such an important impact in my life and to so many others... he was the best.

When the angels escort him through those pearly gates, I know Neal is going to entertain everyone upstairs... he was never without a great joke... never.

-- Gary D. Lichtman, Director of Media Relations, Marketing and Public Affairs at University of Detroit Mercy --- Shine's alma mater

The world truly lost a great man. I had the pleasure of having Neal Shine as my professor for “Ethics in the Media” at Oakland University and will never forget how he would tell us if you are doing something or writing something that you would not want your mother to know about, then you shouldn’t be doing it.

My thoughts and prayers are with his family and friends.

-- Michelle Zellen

I met him only once and it was in the office of Sen. Joe Mack of Ironwood. I've read about him so much over the years. He was obviously a great man and a credit to his profession.

-- Rich Tompkins, Bonita Springs, Fla.

I cried today like I haven't cried since my Dad and my Mom died. I knew Neal had been sick this weekend, and was fading quickly, but the news still hit me like a sledgehammer. I was shocked at the level of my grief, but I suppose I shouldn't have been. Like surely so many who knew him - if ever I had a father figure in my life, it was Neal Shine.

We Free Pressers of the '65-'75 era figured we were the cream of the Neal Shine years. In fact, he told us so - several times. Just last fall after a laugh-filled evening at the Ginopolis restaurant on 12 Mile, we trooped into the parking lot to say goodbye for - although we couldn't have guessed it then - the last time. George Cantor was there, and Pete Gavrilovich. Tim Kiska and John Genitti. Bill Serrin. I'd had enough to drink that I threw an arm over Neal's shoulder, and he reacted like that cop who was standing next to Lee Harvey Oswald when Jack Ruby plugged him. (An image I think Neal would appreciate. Remember that "hey, wha?" look on that big Texan's face?) Come on, Neal, I said ... our gang at the paper was the best, our time the most dynamic. The lunacy, the mad fun. That assemblage of talent. He and Luedtke had put together some of the finest young writing and reporting talent in America, smoothly blending them with that oldtime city desk crew that consisted of such historic stalwarts as The Chief, The Captain, Riley, Hazeltine. Wayne King called it the "most explosive" and gifted staff in the country. And the riot of 1967 proved him true, just as it proved Shine and Luedtke to be visionaries. They had selected a championship team, and when that deadly week began on Sunday, July 23 ... that squad went out and won the World Series of newspaper performance. (I haven't seen it mentioned in these remembrances, but let it forever be noted that Neal Shine was the City Editor of the staff that won the 1968 Pulitzer for Reporting, a rare and phenomenal accomplishment.)

So yeah, said Shine, thinking back, and getting comfortable under my arm … yeah, that era … probably that decade from '65 to '75 … WAS the greatest time in modern Free Press history, boasting the grandest group of his many decades there. Voila! His admission sent us happily on our way out of the parking lot that night. Later, in comparing notes and hangovers, most of us agreed that Neal would say - and probably had said - the same thing to just about every other generation of Free Press staffers who would have the gall to pose such a cheeky proposition. But that was okay. We all wanted Neal to love us the best. More to the point - we wanted to please him the most.

Nobody understands a newspaper like a copyboy does, and that was one of his greatest strengths. I took my turn on that copyboy carousel, and was shocked to my shoes one late Friday afternoon when Shine told me to come to his desk. No, he didn't want a coffee. No, he didn't want me to steal an editorial from the Detroit News. He said "DeLisle, we're putting you on the staff, even though you're still in school. Don't let me down. And act like you're excited about this." (He had to tell me that?) "See the palm of my hand?" which I did as he extended it, "your ass is right there. If I ever catch you fudging a quote, or making up a fact, or inserting a personal belief in a story...I will crush your ass." And he clenched his hand into a fist. "Now go see Ann Voss about the paperwork."

There are literally one million and one Neal Shine stories, nearly every one hilarious. (The ones that aren't hilarious go beyond hilarity towards a word not yet invented for use in the English language.) The million-and-oneth Neal Shine story that plays in my mind tonight centers around the age-old copyboy trick of lighting gluepot lines in the city room. One afternoon the great Gene Goltz — my God, talk about crazed talent - was sound asleep (that being a synonym for dead drunk) over his Royal typewriter when we glue-potted a path from the back of the room to the trash basket at his desk. Fla-groon! The line of fire shot right to Goltz, and lit up the trash barrel, with him jumping up and cursing amid the flames. Neal immediately ran from his desk to that strange water spigot on the third floor near the elevators, partly filling a a bucket and hurrying over to the scene of the crime.

We culprits were standing there cackling like mad at Goltz and the conflagration. Neal did the right thing. Looking from me to the fire to Goltz and back to me, he pulled back the bucket of water, turned, and threw it right in my face, completely drenching me. He then handed me the bucket, calming saying "Here a--hole, put out the fire."

Bill Serrin, Free Press reporter and editor first class - a key player on that 'Neal Likes Us Best' team -- had planned a big fund-raising party for this June at John Genitti's restaurant in Northville. To be called "An Evening With Neal Shine," it had been intended as a tribute to Neal and a fund-raiser for a scholarship to be established in the name of Bill's wife Judy Bruhn Serrin, herself a reportorial grad of that magic era. We were all geeked at the prospect - imagine, a night dedicated solely to stories from, and about, Neal. He had given his okay to the project, and all systems were go as of just two weeks ago.

I don't know now what will come of that idea. Perhaps we can still come together in Neal's honor, in support of Bill's goal, and talk in reverent but hilarious tones about the man we so loved and admired. (Whoops, hold on. Scratch "reverent.") I do know that, amid our conversations today, we FP grads jumped from sobs to laughter and back again, over and over, repeatedly running the gamut of those emotions in recalling Neal and the times we were blessed to be around him. What a gift the man had. What a gift he was to all of us.

The question of our rank in Neal's long service at the Free Press? We'll never know if he truly liked us best. And it now no longer seems important. It's appropriate instead on this lonely night, in speaking for all of us who craved his approval, and so fortunately shared in the magic of his life and times, that I quote an Irish folk song that I'm sure he knew, that says … no, it pleads … “Will ye no come back again? Better loved ye cannot be … Will ye no come back again?"

-- Tom DeLisle

Neal Shine was our journalism professor at the old U-D in the 1960s, and both of us began our careers in newspapering working on suburban weeklies while we went to law school. We were Irishmen, so we frequently saw him at St. Patrick's Day parades, local Irish watering holes or on the steps of a church after an Irish mass. After warmly asking after our health, he would never fail to remind us that as a district judge and a juvenile court referee, we had “gone over to the other side," but that it was never too late to return to the fold. One time when he was on the air at WDET raising money, we called in with a pledge. Recognizing our names he said, "they're both my former students, but they're both attorneys and she's a Judge. Too bad." He surely knew we were listening, and it will always remain our favorite memory of Neal Shine.

-- Dick and Gail McKnight, Westland

After running the gauntlet of interviews for a reporter’s job at the Free Press in December 1971, I wasn’t sure exactly what my chances might be. Then Neal tossed me the keys to his company car and suggested that my wife, Carol, and I drive around and look at neighborhoods where we might live. Not too long into our tour of northwest Detroit, our six-month-old daughter, Maleita, threw up all over Shine’s backseat.

Three or four years later, after Jim Schutze and I left the Anchor Bar after the last Woodward bus had left downtown, we borrowed Shine’s car from the Free Press lot to get home. Just before we got on the Lodge, a homeless guy staggered into an intersection as we approached the stop sign. He had just been mugged and was a real mess. We loaded him into the backseat and dropped him off at Detroit General. Shine’s backseat didn’t end up looking too good that night, either.

Neal pitched a bigger bitch about the second mess than he did the first, but seemed to enjoy them both. As I think about it, some of my warmest memories of Neal are those times when I found myself talking with him about a mess I was in – a story I missed, a source who burned me in public, my father about to die. Neal was a man who appreciated a good mess. It probably made him a better newspaperman. And certainly an unforgettable friend.

-- Bill Mitchell, Free Press 1972-1992

My late husband, Joseph Gualtieri, and the Gualtieri family grew up in the same neighborhood on the east side.

Joe had a great deal of admiration and love for Neal.

Neal never forgot his friends from the neighborhood. He and Joe would share old stories and memories each time they met. Everyone around them would pick up their ears trying to listen to these old tales. Neal always called my husband Joey, and was the only one that could get away with that. Like other old friends, Neal always made them feel like you were an intricate part of his life.

Neal was a great success in his lifetime, both professionally and personally. He has left his mark here on this earth, allowing future generations to learn from his knowledge and teaching. He will be greatly missed.

--Mona Gualtieri

As a freshman at MSU, I was fortunate enough to become good friends with a guy named Dan Shine, Neal’s youngest son. I came from a small town north of Flint and Dan completely took me under his wing.

One weekend, he invited me to his home for the weekend and on Saturday morning I was face-to-face with Neal. This guy did not have to give me the time of day and yet he asked about my family, my hometown, my major. I have always remembered that and when my kids bring their friends around, I try to do the same.

As a guy who also lost his father at a far-too-young age, I feel for the family. My heart goes out to them all, especially my friend Dan. You are in my prayers.

--Dave Latture

Neal Shine gave me an hour of his time in the late '80s to talk about
working at the newspaper. He shared with me that he found the
scheduling of trucks in circulation to be fascinating. Getting the
paper in the hands of the reader all across the state of Michigan before
they wake up in the morning was not easy.

He encouraged me to gain
experience by working in all areas of the newspaper.

He was a good mentor for a newcomer on the advertising side. I took his advice and
worked on the circulation side for the Free Press Minority Journalism
Program.

We scheduled a lunch meeting with a potential sponsor for the
program. He asked that I schedule it at the Detroit Club. Having never
been there before he showed me a short cut through the third-floor door
that allowed us into the club. It was not common for women to eat
there.

During lunch, Max Fisher walked in and waved to Mr. Shine like a
good friend. The sponsor turned the conversation to politics. Mike
Duggan's name came in the conversation. He was running for Wayne County
prosecutor position at the time. Mr. Shine did not reciprocate his
feelings because he never had a negative comment about anyone. He was
first-class all the way.

-- Theresa (Sitek) Ceccarelli, PhD,
former New Media advertising supervisor/Newspaper-In-Education/customer
service/retail advertising

My husband was very fortunate to be a part of Neal's class at St. Rose and also a member of the Breakfast Club that takes place every Wednesday morning at 14 Mile and Ryan at Marcus Restaurant. The class was originally about 50 members and they act like family with Neal always the president of the class or head of the family. He will be sorely missed this morning at breakfast.

Earlier this year, Neal and Phyllis left to spend the winter months in Florida and Neal attended his last breakfast with the "boys," but before he left he admonished them that no one was to die while he was in Florida.

Neal, you failed to include yourself in the warning.

About 10 years ago, I was working in Wilson Hall at Oakland University and saw Neal in the hallway outside of the office where I was located. Thereafter, Neal made it a practice to stop in the office on his way in to teach his class and would tell me that he was in need of a hug which I was always happy to share with him.

-- Fran Schulte

As a fledgling attorney in the early '80s, I set up my own law office in Detroit with a small firm who had a part-time legal secretary by the name of Phyllis Shine.

Being from the east coast, I was told that Phyllis was married to some important guy at the local newspaper (totally unknown to me) by the name of Neal. Realizing I needed all the help I could get, Phyllis took me under her wing and introduced me to her husband.

We formed a friendship. Neal not only started referring Free Press staffers to me, but any time we were together in public he went out of his way to introduce me to his many, many mover-and-shaker friends like this: “Have you met my attorney, Chris Mengel?” His endorsement gave me an instant credibility that meant more for my practice than all the money that advertisements could buy.

More importantly, his belief in me made me believe in myself. Among his legacies, and there are many, he had a way of making people believe in their own talents and feel good about who they were and what they did.

On behalf of all of us who you have helped over the years, thank you Neal and Phyllis.

-- Chris Mengel

Neal hired me in 1977. His official title then was managing editor, but I eventually figured out that if the Free Press were a country Neal Shine would be on the stamps.

-- Martin F. Kohn, Free Press theater critic

Other than my parents, Neal Shine was my most important influence while growing up. All the kids who lived on Bedford in Grosse Pointe Park during the 1970s would come to the same conclusion. Why else would all the kids have referred to his mother as Grandma Shine?

While all the tributes have been warm and heartening, it is the legendary Neal Shine wit that we’ll all miss the most. The one-liners, the zingers, the hilarious stories, the jokes, the pranks, the salty language, and his overall silly demeanor were defining traits of his character. It is no wonder that he was always in demand as a speaker for fund-raising events. He was always better than a more famous speaker would have been.

Another aspect of his personality was that he was a big sports fan. I learned from him many important lessons such as scheduling social events and obligations around the sports calendar. You can’t miss the big game because it’s too important! We all knew that he was always watching some game.

I had a chance to see Neal Shine a few weeks ago while vacationing at Marco Island in Florida. He was quite ill, and it was apparent that he wouldn’t live much longer. Despite his illness, the Shine wit was still present, and it seemed like old times. I suppose that heaven must have been a little short on laughs recently; thus, Neal Shine was asked to fill in the gap.

-- Pat O’Leary, Chicago

Neal and I started at the Free Press at the same time, and I happily watched him move up from copyboy to managing editor by the time I left in 1972.

To many Detroiters he personified the best of the Free Press (and it was a great paper then) -- friends who knew nothing else about the newspaper business knew Neal's name.

To me, he was a great part of what made newspapering fun in those days, but also a fine editor, a true leader and a lovely man.

-- Roberta Mackey Rigger, reporter/feature writer, 1950-1972

I’ve been a ‘lifer’ at dear old U of D – now UDM - and I’ve always had the feeling that Neal loved me for it. When our Varsity News was under my administrative wing, Neal was our godfather. If the “kids,” as he called them, got down in the mouth, I’d call him and he’d come over and spend an evening with them in the basement of the Student Union. He’d listen to their frustrations, tell them stories, but most of all help them know that this thing that they were doing – putting out a paper – was a noble and powerful thing, requiring them to be professional and respectful of the reader.

When we needed an adviser, Neal gave us a guy he was very proud of – John Smyntek. When we needed a moderator for a controversial panel, he told me to call Ron Dzwonkowski. I’m grateful for both of them as friends, who along with Susan Ager (who I discovered on my own, thank you) remind me of Neal in their humanity, humor, and dedication as journalists.

But he was a premier Titan fan, too. His greatest Titan Talk was some years ago when we were playing another Catholic school at homecoming. Neal was the speaker at the pregame lunch, and wanted to say a prayer for the team. But how, he asked, could we ask God to take favorites, since both schools were, after all, Catholic? How could he ask God to bless the Titans? So he asked us to bow our heads, and began: “Dear God, bless the ball… “ and went on to ask God to get the ball to bounce our way.

Neal continues to teach us, from deep inside and all around, just like God. Gee, I wonder if that nun from St. Rita’s is going to get him back for all those stories?

-- John Daniels, director, Leadership Development Institute,
University of Detroit Mercy

I had breakfast with Knight-Ridder CEO Jim Batten about six months before he died. My clearest recollection of the meeting was this remark:

"The best move I ever made was naming Neal Shine publisher in Detroit."

--Tom Wark,
Free Press alum

Neal Shine went to school or grew up with several relatives of mine, and my grandmother used to work for him many years ago. I have heard many of the stories of their friendships, and exploits, through the years. One of the stories recently recanted involved Neal and my cousin Jack Kenny making plans for the prom. My grandmother (Mary Rouse), who had worked for Mr. Shine, was the owner of a restaurant in Brighton.

My cousin and Mr. Shine came up with the brilliant idea of coming out to Brighton, and possibly avoiding paying for a prom-night meal. If they only had included my grandmother in on the plan … they arrived in Brighton only to find the restaurant closed … who knows what they are going to come up with together up there……a dear, sweet man.

-- Bill Veik, Brighton

I now live in Washington, D.C., but I am a Detroiter. Neal Shine stood for the City of Detroit and embodied the sense that, despite our differences and the city’s problems, there is something that connects us all. I have never met the man, but have been influenced by his profound influence on others whom I know and admire (including the late Father Bill Cunningham).

I can think of no better reason than to ask the City of Detroit to order the flags lowered to half mast to honor someone who was truly Mr. Detroit.

-- Jim Mazur,
business strategy consultant,
Vienna, Va.

I first met Neal Shine some 50 years ago on the fourth floor of the Free Press. As a teenager I was downtown visiting my Dad who was employed by the Free Press from 1930 to his retirement in 1962, by which time he was the paper's chief editorial writter.

Neal and I stayed in touch over the years and every time we met there was always a smile on Neal's face and he always remembered my Dad and always asked about my family.

Whether it was about the Free Press, writing, the history of Detroit or books, it was always a joy to visit with Neal Shine. He was a wonderful person who touched the lives of so many people. We will miss him. I am proud to have called him my friend.

-- Arthur M. Woodford,
director, St. Clair Shores Public Library, 1977-2005

I remember a Neal Shine who was little awed by title or power.

At some point, as I recall, Neal was named "senior managing editor" of the Free Press. On-air one morning, WJR's J.P. McCarthy asked Neal about the new title. As I recall, Neal tossed off a line something like:

"Senior Managing Editor? I think it means I get to ride the bus at a discount."

On another occasion, I encountered Neal at the Fairlane Club in Dearborn, where the nation's newspaper publishers were in town to rub shoulders with the auto industry's elite. In the room were some of the top newspaper publishers and other newspaper industry honchos.

Neal, who I believe was the Freep's publisher at the time, was not especially impressed by the gathering. He said something like:

"Look at all these newspaper bigwigs. Believe me, none of them work as hard as a city editor."

Neal was a pleasure and a treasure. A tough and gracious competitor. A terrific editor. A good man.

-- Mark E. Lett,
executive editor, the State, Columbia, S.C.,
formerly with the Detroit News and the Freep

“Never pick an argument with someone who buys ink by the barrel.”

He may not have originated the phrase, but spoke it like he did and uttered it when he was pissed off at someone standing in the way. In my context, it was probably about an entity meddling in plans for the Free Press Marathon. When he and Ladd Neumann, then sports editor, decided the FP should sponsor a marathon, they felt it should be international. So Neal went to see the folks at the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel, who told him the tunnel had never been closed for any reason, not even during World War II, and they certainly weren’t going to close so some crazy runners could go through. Neal’s strategy was to sit in their offices, quietly offering compelling arguments until they relented. They did. The first Free Press Marathon (1978) started in Windsor and crossed to the U.S. via the tunnel.

Another memorable comment from him, probably at the time that the FP opened the riverfront plant: “Here we have the most sophisticated newspaper production facility in the world right now, a staff of prize-winning reporters who write their hearts out, highly educated business people who know what they’re doing -- and what do we do with our final product every day? Put it in the hands of 12-year olds to deliver to our customers.”

Neal Shine was a seminal influence in my life. I was very fortunate to have worked with him and for him, 1972-1984. And I’m sure I’m one of thousands who feel this way. What a legacy!

-- Diane Taylor

Yesterday, April 3rd, a man I greatly admired passed away from cancer at age 76. He was in the newspaper field for over 45 years from a reporter to managing editor until retirement, and then to be called back as the publisher of the Detroit Free Press. Quite a honor for some of us to retire twice.

I have known Neal for over 35 years and had worked with him over a period of time, and just recently (2006) at the Detroit Free Press Marathon we ran into each other on the field at Ford Field. We had a million laughs and promised to talk to each other, which we did from his home in St. Clair Shores. He loved Windsor and he would spin off stories of what he was up to being over here for many reasons, plus he loved his summer home in Stoney Point.

To know Neal was a real honor. He had a great command of the English language and as a writer was one of the best. He was a true newspaper man, a man of great passion for his family, the Irish, his craft and Detroit. He had a great sense of humor. He critiqued my first book and found a million mistakes in the copy, of course. I blushed and made the corrections. I was really hoping he could have stayed around to critique my current book. Maybe I would blush again.

There will never be another Neal Shine. To quote Mitch Albom from the Free Press: "It isn't that Neal died. We accept that he died....it's that he can't be replaced."

In closing, I can see Neal Shine and the late Tony Spina (1995), chief photographer of the Free Press, covering the Big Story for the Creator.

God Bless.

-- Spike Bell

I knew him for 50 years and had hoped to share many more years with him. He knew so many people and couldn't go anywhere without being stopped by someone who knew him and had a story to share. I remember trips to Ireland and Austria where we kept running into people he knew. What amazed me was that he could recall their name and details of their last meeting. Reading the tributes in the paper the last few days, I was overwhelmed that people who met him one time, took one of his classes, worked with him or only knew someone that met him felt connected to him and their meeting had significant impacts on their lives. He had a great love for family and friends and usually his friends became part of his family. I loved him very much and am very proud to be his daughter. I just wish I could get one more hug, I miss him so much.

--Susan Epp

I met Mr. Shine when he was receiving radiation treatments for his Hodgkin's disease. I was one of the lucky and so very fortunate radiation therapists that had the pleasure to see, treat and get to know him over his six-week course of treatment. As many people have said before me, his name describes him perfectly. He was a bright spot in my day those six weeks.

I went on to hear him speak at various cancer survivor meetings and found myself truly entertained by his stories.

I also remember being very sad when I read that last column and wondered if I would ever see him again. Little did I know back then, that would hold true today.

My brief encounter with Mr. Shine has left a lasting impression upon me. You will be missed.

Kim Manders

It’s strange when someone who is a celebrity to everyone else is merely your wife’s best friend’s father.

Neal Shine achieved fame before I came into the picture, but to me, Mr. Shine was first and foremost, Peggy’s dad. Secondly, he was someone with whom I connected, someone who had the same crazy ideas long before I had them.

He was someone, I was no one, yet we were the same, drawn together by our silly love of newspapers.

I was working at Football News in Detroit when I decided I wanted to try the world of daily newspapers. He invited me to talk with him at the Free Press. I came to his office, we talked for a while and he gave me a list of Knight-Ridder papers to which I should apply. I wound up at another, but only because of his guidance.

I’ve worked at four daily papers in four states, and I’ve woven a path to Greenville, S.C., where I cover high school sports. Mr. Shine was such a big help to me in my chosen field.

And yet, I can only think of him at this moment as a husband, a father and a grandfather. He was so big to so many people, but he will never be bigger than he was to his family. I’m not a great reporter, but I can tell that’s what mattered most to him and most to them.

My wife has cried a lot since the news of Mr. Shine’s passing (and it’s all of a sudden becoming contagious), but we should be celebrating. Can you imagine a guy who would be less thrilled you were crying at the news of his death? Surely, he’d have a sarcastic comeback.

After I applied to the list of papers he had given me, I received a letter from a paper in North Dakota. Less than excited, I called Mr. Shine, and he said, "It’s not the end of the world. You can see the end of the world from there, but it’s not the end of the world."

There was symbolism I never realized at the time. I had trouble focusing on the end of my nose, but he could see all points of the globe. Despite knowing way more than most of us, Mr. Shine wrote in a manner we could all understand. It’s not easy to mix the ultimate in intelligence with simplicity. Somehow Mr. Shine pulled it off.

No matter how much you grieve, no matter what you can muster up as a tribute, remember this much: Mr. Shine will have a comeback. His words will trump ours and live longer, just as he will live forever in our thoughts.

-- Bob Castello,
Greer, S.C.

Neal Shine taught me how to improve my newspaper writing skills early in
what became a long and happy career in the profession, but didn't know
it until I met and told him years later. As a young reporter for an
outstate paper, I had been frustrated at how lackluster my stories were,
despite having studied journalism in college. But I was impressed by his
stories in the Free Press, decided to analyze his technique, and then
copied it as well as I could. The resulting change for the better put
me on the road to 40 years of real success as an editorial writer and
columnist. Neal was more than a great guy, he was a great writer.

--Neil Munro

I never had the opportunity to work directly with Mr. Shine, but knew him because of my father who started as a copyboy at the same time Mr. Shine did.

I can remember my Dad and Mr. Shine laughing over some of the stories and antics they were involved in over the years -- including the horse in the newsroom.

When my Dad died in 1986, Mr. Shine wrote an article about some of those shenanigans, and it still makes me cry and laugh every time I pull it out and read it. He also wrote my Mom's obituary which was actually an article in the Sunday magazine, and made me cry again when I learned things about my parents that they had never told me.

While we will all miss his smile, twinkly eyes, sense of humor and professionalism, I am sure my parents are extremely happy to be reunited with a friend they haven't seen in years.

--Ed Breslin Jr.

I spent two brief moments in the newspaper business -- though nearly 40
years apart, they were intimately connected through Neal Shine.

The first was in 1966, when I was an 18-year-old summer copyboy at the
Free Press. But I was not just any copyboy -- I was undoubtedly the worst
copyboy in Free Press history. I know that because Neal told me so.

It happened the day after I had called in sick, claiming a murderous head
cold, but had really gone on Jerry Cavanagh's whistle-stop train tour of
the state, part of his campaign against Soapy Williams in the Democratic
primary for a U.S. Senate seat. I clearly felt that covering the event for
the Michigan Daily was preferable to a day spent filling paste pots,
putting copy into the pneumatic tubes, or running downstairs to get
cigarettes for Ralph Nelson (although I did think Ralph Nelson was among
the coolest men on the planet).

The next day, I was ripping copy from the AP wire when Neal (who was city
editor then) shouted, "Copy!" I was the only copyboy in view, so he
clearly had me in mind. I walked over to his desk, and he began talking to
me without looking up. He was holding an 8 x 10 glossy in his hands. "I
hope you're feeling better, Okrent. You really didn't look very well
yesterday." I thought that was strange, given that I hadn't even been in
the city room yesterday, when I noticed what was in the center of the photo
Neal was holding: me, next to Cavanagh on the station platform in Grand
Rapids.

I won't catalog all my other misdeeds from that summer -- there were plenty
-- but, needless to say, I wasn't asked back to the Free Press the
following summer. I had one brief encounter with Neal in Ann Arbor my
senior year, when he had come recruiting at the Daily and made a very clear
point of not asking me to interview.

Flash-forward to 2003 when, after many years working in the book and
magazine businesses, I was appointed the first public editor of the New
York Times. It was a very visible position, of course, and I heard from a
lot of people I hadn't seen for years. But nothing meant more to me than
the e-mail I got from Neal Shine, telling me how he had followed my career,
and how he thought I was doing a good job at the Times. We spoke to each
other a few times after that, and had dinner together twice. The second of
those was in East Lansing, after I had delivered the annual Neal Shine
Lecture on Journalism Ethics at MSU. I don't think I'm prouder of anything
else I've done in my career -- not least because Neal said he was proud of
me.

-- Daniel Okrent

I first met Neal when I was a reporter working for public radio WDET in Detroit starting in 1986.

Of course I was in awe of his legend, but was also struck by how unassuming and how open he was.

Over the years there would, on occasion, be some reason for me to haul my recording gear up to Neal’s office to interview him about some story … The JOA, the newspaper strike, circulation figures, Coleman Young, old-Detroit history. I’d get him on the phone to schedule the session and he was always busy … but he always managed to find a tight 15-minute hole in his schedule for me.

I’d hustle over to the Free Press building and invariably our 15 minutes would run to 30 or 45 or an hour or more. We’d manage to cover the topic at hand, but the conversation would drift to so many other places, so many other topics. I always thanked him profusely for his time. I don’t know that I ever told him what an honor it was for a young journalist to share such moments.

These days I’m an expatriate Detroiter. As such I often find myself defending the honor of my hometown to people who don’t know the city. I tell them about Tiger Stadium, or O’Leary’s Tea Room, or the Lafayette Coney Island, or Rivera Murals or Smokey Robinson. What I really needed to do was to get them an hour in Neal Shine’s office. He loved Detroit like no one else. The city has lost one amazing ambassador. And journalism has lost one of the all-time greats.

I’m lucky to have known him.

-- Don Gonyea,
National Public Radio, Washington, D.C.

I wasn’t one of the lucky ones who knew Neal Shine well, although I have known him a long time. I did not work with him at the Freep or have the advantage of learning newspaper ethics from him at OU, but I was one of the lucky women who he would always hug and kiss when we would meet on rare occasions.

Thanks you for those hugs and kisses Neal … until we meet again … and thank you Phyllis for your approval.

-- Mary Campbell,
GM retiree and Focus: HOPE volunteer

It’s hard to imagine the world without Neal Shine. He always lifted
our spirits, made us laugh, reminded us of why we’d gotten into
journalism in the first place.

When I went anywhere in Detroit with Neal, it was like being with a
rock star: People wanting to talk to him, touch him, get his
autograph, hell, get his quarters, get his help.

Which brings me to
my first story:
Neal and I walked out to the old Free Press parking lot (Neal was
giving me a ride to my car at a garage) and a confused gentleman
approached us and asked if we could help him find his car. Neal
asked, “Do you know where it is?” He replied, “No, somewhere around
here, maybe.’’ I rolled my eyes. Neal said, “Hop in.’’

For the next 15 minutes, Neal drove this guy around to every parking
lot within a 3-mile radius of the Free Press. The guy just seemed to
get more confused. Finally, he thought maybe this was the place. I
rejoiced. Neal gave him his phone number, just in case.

“Why?’’ I
asked Neal later. “Hey, I’d want somebody to do it for me,’’ Neal
said, a lesson he taught every day in so many ways.

The other story is when my Mom died in Hannibal, Mo. There’d
been an obit in the Free Press and my dad, sister and other family
were at the funeral home the night before the funeral. In walked
Neal. He’d flown to St. Louis, rented a car and driven up to
Hannibal, without notice, just because. He told stories on his Mom,
he made us remember all the good times we’d had with our own Mom, he
made us feel whole again. It’s still unbelievable to me, it still
makes me cry, and it’s so Neal.

He was a teacher, a friend, a confidante, a wonderful boss, the heart
and soul of the Free Press. He was always an example of how to live
your life. He loved Phyllis and his kids with all his might. He loved
his newspaper and his city. He made everything he touched better.

When my wife, Pat, and I first heard the news, we were in central
California and turned off the road in a town called Harmony, with18
souls and one winery. We asked for their best red and toasted to
Neal, in Harmony. I dreamed of Neal that night and, I swear to you,
he came up to me, hugged me, and said everything would be all right.

Just like Neal.

We will love and miss him forever.

--Heath Meriwether

As a Grosse Pointer I was so sorry to hear about the loss of Mr. Shine. What a great philanthropist!

Janice Weitzmann Lovchuk, Berkley