Gone, But Not Forgotten

Carl Neiburger - 1950 - 2002

When I first met Carl in the late '80s I wasn't quite sure what to make of him. Carl was the newsroom expert in getting the typesetting system to output what we called "text charts," that is, blocks of text, generally story highlights and tabular data. Clearly he was smart, as it was no mean feat to subdue the typesetter. He had created quite a niche for himself, moving from copy editor to becoming a new kind of editor, a "graphics coordinator." Carl was different, both in appearance and substance. First impression: Engineer.

A few years later, as Art Director, it became apparent that the graphics coordinators should be a part of the Art Department. Carl had some trepidation about changing bosses. He saw himself as a "word person" rather than an "art person" and he may have felt bruised and wary from previous organization changes. The Art Department welcomed him, and he was soon part of the family.

Over the next few years, working with and interacting with Carl on a daily basis, we grew to respect the sharpness of his intellect. He was always learning something new, and taming the typesetter wasn't his only technical achievement. He learned how to draw with a Macintosh, write software, became expert in the arcane but useful science of Geographic Information Systems (GIS), and learned how to play the American folk music he loved on the fiddle.

We also learned to respect the depth of his commitment to truth, fairness, accuracy and reader service. Few journalists I've known approached the depth of his understanding of the art and science of practical numbers. He was the master of a staggering amount of detail, and was always reaching to fit in one more locator map or chart, because he knew it would make stories better. He never allowed anything to deplete his devotion to doing the right thing by readers. He made my job easier, and the paper better, by his efforts. He was, in my opinion, the most under-appreciated person in the newsroom.


	350k GIF \| 400k PDF

Carl was a journalism super-hero. In his own quiet way he served truth, justice and the American way. On many occasions, his statistical "X-ray vision" changed the course of stories, big and small. He faced fate with courage and dignity. His response to colon cancer was, well let's make a graphic about it and help others. A few of us learned to see past his mild-mannered engineer disguise. If we truly believe in diversity and live it, we should appreciate and honor people like Carl while they are among us.

He was a good man. I was privileged to call him my friend. I will miss him.

Mercury News Obituary - 124k GIF
San Jose Newspaper Guild
Colon Cancer Awareness
Donate to the American Cancer Society

Luci Houston - 1958 - 2001

Luci, an award-winning photographer at the Mercury News who was murdered in November 2001, was not a close friend. What was amazing about her was that it didn't matter. I'm sure there were many people like me, casual acquaintances and coworkers, into who's lives she brought light and warmth. She was one of the few people I worked with there who was unfailingly kind, friendly and cheerful to everyone, regardless of their status or group. In a politically correct age when many were wary of any personal contact, she was fearless about reaching out to people, grabbing them and hugging. She believed love conquers all and lived it every day. Her absence makes us all poorer, but it doesn't dim her light. If anything, that light shines brighter through the eyes of those she touched in life.

Remembering Luci - San Jose Newspaper Guild
Life Story | Guest Book - Legacy.com

Berget McCabe - 1911 - 2000

The memories I treasure of Grandma Tula are those of my childhood. We lived with her in her house in Brooklyn when I was a child, after my parents divorced. She didn't seem to mind the noisy invasion of her home by three unruly boys. She was always kind and attentive to us children. I'll always remember the hula party she organized, complete with Don Ho, grass skirts, roast pig (well, ham anyway), and pineapple.

But what I'll remember most was her loud, braying laughter, the most tangible evidence of her tolerance and good humor.

When I was a teenager, Tula suffered a terrible auto accident that, while it didn't take her life, took her intellect, leaving her with the mind of a confused and angry child. That she survived several decades is testament to the hardiness of her Norwegian stock. She was such a good person, and what happened to her was so unfair. Here's what my mother, Pat McCabe, said in her eulogy:

But even in the midst of this new reality, there were glimpses of the old Tula underneath the hard crust. During the years she lived with me, when I tucked her into bed at night, she prayed for three things: she prayed for Michael and Tommy, she prayed to see her mother again in Heaven, and she prayed for peace in the world. And then, the Berlin Wall came down, Soviet Union came apart, and the whole world changed. The specter of nuclear annihilation faded and in many places, old enemies sit down and try to work out their differences. I believe that Mom, in her pain and with her prayers, was an element in this move towards peace, and I think that God has a special place in His heart for this good lady who suffered greatly.

Farewell, Grandma Tula. Is that your laughter I hear ringing out at that great hula party in the sky?