Twenty-five years ago next month, I was just three years into my newspaper career while Johnny Sands was nearing the end of his. Johnny, better known as Sandman, became my first boss as a professional copy editor. Mardy Jackson came to The Augusta Chronicle as a reporter around the same time.
I haven’t thought about them in a while, but they’ve come to mind the last couple of weeks. A couple of years ago I joined a Facebook group of people who worked at the Chronicle in the 1980s and 1990s. I’d look at the postings every once in a while. Then a couple of weeks ago, posts started coming in about Sandman being in the hospital with updates about how he’s doing.
The Sandman news seemed to spur a lot of activity in the group. It’s been like a virtual reunion recently with former co-workers weighing in with old stories, memories, photos, and updates. There’s been some chatter about having an actual reunion sometime.
An update that got my attention was the news that Mardy had died of lung cancer in 2005. She was just 57. Mardy and I were at the Chronicle in generally the same time period. I’m not sure when she started there, but it must have been 1986 or 1987. We both left there in 1993. Most of her time at the Chronicle she was a bureau chief in an adjoining county. She was a great reporter and fun to be around – famous for her dirty jokes.
When I was looking to buy my first house I settled on a nice little place on Starnes Street in Augusta. Mardy was the owner of that house. I didn’t know it until I saw the paperwork. I moved in in February 1993. She moved to Cheraw, S.C., to become publisher and editor of the paper there. Except for a peachy color that I would have changed, I really liked that house. Unfortunately I didn’t live there long. A job opportunity came up in North Carolina, and I moved up here that October.
In the Facebook group, a former reporter mentioned that a former colleague had written a column about Mardy’s funeral. I found the column, and it was nicely done. Tommy’s column said Mardy had met a farmer and left the newspaper business to help on the farm. She and Stanley were involved with their community and helped start a volunteer fire department. Mardy’s lung cancer was one of the 10 percent which hit people who never smoked.
My time at the Chronicle overlapped with Sandman for just two years. Before coming to the Chronicle I had wanted to be a reporter, but they offered me a job as assistant wire editor and I figured that at the age of 25 I’d try copy editing and see if I liked it.
Sandman was an old school newspaperman. He first came across as gruff, but he was actually softhearted. He was famous for coming up with “Arnie’s Army,” referring to Arnold Palmer’s fans, in the 1960s. He taught me a lot about the craft and got me hooked on being a wire editor. I would end up doing a lot of different roles in the newspaper business, but wire editor was the one I liked the most and fit me the best.
Sandman was a great boss. I enjoyed working with him. Often he’d join the guys for drinks afterward. He took a lot of good-natured ribbing. He was an interesting guy who loved his pope, sports, and being a wire editor.
I worked for him about a year. They asked me in 1987 to become a swing copy editor, rotating among the metro, features, and wire desks. Sandman would end up retiring in 1988. He would tutor one more wire editor after me. I felt fortunate to have been one of his proteges, and that experience shaped the rest of my newspaper career. It had such an impact that when I got a puppy years later – in 1999 – I decided to call her “Sandy.” She’s my ongoing tribute to Sandman.
