By Austin Bishop

guest columnist



Those who knew of James Buckingham Skewes, likely spent the days since his passing talking about his taste in hats and suits, his fondness for England, and the cars he loved to drive.

But to me, it runs a little deeper than that.

Did I know him well? No, not really. I was never privy to his innermost thoughts and was not on his round table of trusted advisors. I was just a former employee, who was honored to know him.

But, then again if you ever had the honor to be an employee of Jimmy and Hilah Skewes, you were never the same.

I went to work full time for The Meridian Star for the "first" time — if you don't count that crazy little stint in 1978 when I wrote every sports story I could find for $10 a pop — in July of 1984.

I worked for Mr. and Mrs. Skewes from then until they sold The Meridian Star in 1990, and I have to confess that those seven years were without a doubt some of my most satisfying as a professional.

Many journalists who have begun their careers in the last 20 years have never worked for a home-owned newspaper. It's different, that's for sure.

There is just something special about having the owner of the paper sitting right down the hall, reading over what you wrote that day.

The thing I will take with me forever from Jimmy Skewes is how to treat people. Being a good boss is not a trait I was born with. I like to think that over time I have learned the importance of being kind to your employees, caring about them, being genuinely interested in the twists and turns their lives are taking.

When you decide to walk down that path, it can be full of roots, stumps and thorns that will cause bruises and cuts along the way.

But that is the direction Jimmy Skewes chose to walk. Did some take advantage of him? Most assuredly. Did it bother him? I honestly think not.

While Mr. Skewes was 30 years my elder, I always marveled at the way he looked at everything through the eyes of a child seeing things for the first time. His eyes would widen as a new discovery would strike him. His mind was a very inquisitive one and he just never seemed to tire of learning.

Anyone who has ever known Jimmy Skewes knows without a shadow of a doubt that the love of his live is, was, and always will be his beloved Hilah. And what a pair they were — two special people, brought together in a marriage that truly had to be one of the most interesting life-long road trips of all-time.

While I never spent more than 15 minutes at one time in either Jimmy or Hilah's presence, there is only one word that comes to mind when I think of Mr. Skewes — family.

That's the way he treated you.

While Jimmy and Hilah had no children of their own, their "family" was large.

After they sold the paper I would drop by and see Mr. and Mrs. Skewes every year or so, and the last meeting was just like the first. They riddled me with questions, but they weren't probing for information about the newspaper or for some inside scoop on what was really going on with the town's politics.

Nope, they were interested in the people — those employees who they left behind when they walked out of that building on 22nd Avenue as owners for the last time.

On Friday I had the honor of attending the graveside services for Mr. Skewes and there were many important people there.

And then it dawned on me. They were family too. Just as the Skewes had brought all of those employees into their family, they had done the same with all of those they had come in contact with.

Now that, is living a life worth living. There is a lesson to be learned from that. Here's hoping I was paying attention.