As I file this report, I’ve just returned from the funeral of one of the people who made my maiden voyage at KSLA such a memorable experience.

Al Bolton epitomized the southern gentlemen. Born and raised in Central Louisiana, Bolton brought a gentile calm and steady hand to everything he did. He was the weatherman. He didn’t make it; he reported it.

Without computers for most of his years, he drew the lines and numbers on the maps that told viewers all over the Ark-La-Tex where the weather was and where it was headed. He made the mysterious ether more predictable because you just knew that “Big Al” would keep you safe.

Saying goodbye to another of my mentors made me think back on those who influenced my career and me. This is not the entire list, just some highlights.

When I started in television fresh out of college, the man who helped me the most was probably Wiley Hilburn. He was the head of the Journalism Department at Louisiana Tech University for many years. The irony of his assistance is I never attended Tech or sat in on one of his classes. I never spoke to the man on the phone or saw him in person. Hilburn died this year never having shaken my hand.

Nevertheless, he told my soon-to-befirst boss, Don Owen that I would be a good hire in the KSLA news department. Hilburn had done his research with folks who knew me at then Northeast Louisiana University in Monroe and felt he could make the recommendation. Thanks, Wiley.

Things were very different in television in those days. A station’s popularity was based solely on its people, its personalities. The equipment was rudimentary, the presentation was technologically limited, and so the people had to make the news interesting.

I was fortunate to work at Channel 12 with a group of professionals who did not know they were technological neanderthals; they just knew they had a job to do.

Don Owen was the leader of our “gang.” No nonsense at the job and direct, he brooked no excuses for failure. He taught me more in two months about the day-to-day working of journalism than four years of college had prepared me. He took a chance on an unproven kid. We lost him recently, too. I’m fortunate to have had him as my first boss. Thanks, Don.

Not all my mentors are gone, thankfully. Some are still here and available for questioning and consultation.

Mike Staggs was a stern taskmaster. One of his more often-repeated admonitions was, “Don’t give me excuses; give me results.” He taught me that getting by is not the way to do it, it’s getting it right. Thanks, Mike.

Bob Griffin’s example was a little different. He was the least organized and put-together of the newsroom “leaders.”

But, Griffin had a way of charming the ice out of a polar bear’s paw, and you couldn’t be mad at him for long. He had a way of making you want to help him. He taught me that it’s OK to enjoy what you do as long as you don’t take it too seriously. Thanks, Griff.

Art Shiver was an enigma. He was a trained interior designer who ended up reporting, shooting news footage and even doing the weather. In spite of my excellent instruction in shooting news film in Monroe, Art educated me to the reality of capturing events on film on a daily basis. He taught me that intellect and grace could also compete in the maelstrom of a newsroom. Thanks, Arthur.

Nevertheless, in all my inexperience and naïveté, Al Bolton never took me to task for my work. The only time I remember his saying anything even remotely disciplinary was one evening after all the bigwigs had left the station for the day. The new kids were working behind the scenes to prepare the 10 o’clock newscast, and we’d hit a lull. Ed Baswell and I were hyped up on bad breakroom coffee and decided to play baseball in the newsroom. We fashioned a ball out of a wad of masking tape and used the paper guide from one of the old standard typewriters for a bat. I threw a beautiful breaking pitch that Bas reached for and hit toward the newsroom door just as Bolton walked in. He dodged the tape wad, looked at us, shook his head and said, “How juvenile.”

I learned that evening two words could change your attitude about your professional behavior. It was a lesson worth remembering. Thanks, Al. I was privileged to call you colleague.