In Appreciation: Robert Estabrook

One of the hardest parts of being old is witnessing the passing of so many who have been passengers with you in life’s journey. But in my long 87 years of life, there is no friend I mourn more deeply than Bob Estabrook.

Bob was a very special person with myriad interests, but his dedication to responsible journalism, freedom of information and the people’s right to know was the bond that cemented our relationship.

These were not now and then pursuits for Bob but lifelong principles. Those of us who have long careers in Connecticut journalism are eternally grateful for the knowledge and vigor to these causes that he brought to our state when he  moved here after a highly successful career at The Washington Post, one of the nation’s leading newspapers.

It always amazed me that Bob made the transition from a life where he dealt with national and world leaders to that of a weekly newspaper publisher serving small Litchfield County communities, where major news stories center around town meetings, school boards and fires. When I once asked him about this, he just smiled and said he enjoyed them both. The fact is that Bob brought an enthusiasm to whatever he did and that is a rare trait indeed.

On the state level, Bob brought that enthusiasm to the Connecticut Council for Freedom of Information and the Connecticut Foundation for Open Government, where we were both directors. Bob believed fervently in freedom of information and open government and it was our work in these two causes that brought us together and developed into a long friendship.

Many longtime journalists become cynics but that never was Bob’s style. It always seemed to me that he had a reverence for the country’s institutions and those who served in them just as long as they did not conduct business behind closed doors.

A cynic would shrug a shoulder at the closed doors and say that is the way it is. Bob would say that is not the way it should be and would work to open those doors.

Above all, Bob was a gentleman with a civility about him that the world today so sadly lacks. While I mourn his death deeply, his friendship will remain one of the treasures of my life.                                      

Forrest Palmer lives in Southbury, and is a retired journalist, newspaper publisher and past president of the Connecticut Foundation for Open Government.

 

 

 

When I went to my first International Society of Weekly Newspaper Editors (ISWNE) conference in 2004, Bob Estabrook was the first person I wanted to meet there, because of his friendship with my father, who had died a few years earlier. The Lakeville Journal and my Journal used to exchange papers, because of the relationship Dad and Mr. Estabrook had.

When my father died in 1999, I wrote to Mr. Estabrook to say I realized the exchange was done because of that relationship and I would understand if he wanted to stop.

He wrote back to me to tell me that he didn’t want to stop the exchange because he wanted to see what the younger Gay would write on the editorial page. And for the next several years, he proceeded to praise what I was doing. He even told me he gave some of my editorials to the people running The Lakeville Journal as examples of good writing.

He was such a good writer and newspaperman that I didn’t feel I was worthy of his praise. It was an honor to receive his kind words.

At the ISWNE conference, he stood and introduced me to the rest of the people at the dinner on the first night, and at the Saturday night banquet where I won the Golden Quill Award. He was at my table and couldn’t have been happier for me.

I feel sadness 3,000 miles away tonight, and I know that emotion is much deeper for those of you close to him.

Charlie Gay, 58, is the former editor and publisher of The Shelton-Mason County Journal in Shelton, Wash.

 

 

 

 

While I share the memory of Bob Estabrook as a distinguished journalist and mentor I also remember him as an avid fan of railroad history.

I first became aware of his interest in railroads on a misty April morning in North Canaan, when I saw him among those waiting to board buses for a tour of the old CNE Railroad route in the Northwest Corner.

While it was my first experience with these tours, which are an annual event, nearly everyone there knew Bob and greeted him by name.

As the day progressed it became clear he had a keen interest in the history of railroads in our area and the cultural impact they had.

Bob also had an extensive knowledge of railroads and was quick to share what he knew with any interested listener.

I subsequently learned that Bob had written a number of articles about railroad history for The Lakeville Journal and in my own small way I followed in his footsteps by writing a series of Rail Tales for The Journal.

He was always most supportive of my efforts and always commented on the topics I chose.

The simple truth is that he was always fun to chat with and I will miss the opportunity for more. Bob Estabrook was not the kind of person you could easily forget — and I won’t.

Dick Paddock
Salisbury

 

 

 

 

About four weeks ago, I had a long weekend off from college and decided to come back to the Northwest Corner for a few days. While I was home, I went to my grandmother’s Taconic Learning Center class at Noble Horizons. I ran into some friends that I knew and became preoccupied with chatting with them until I heard my grandmother call for me and say, “Jane, look who it is! Your special friend!”

It was Mr. Estabrook, who was indeed my very special friend.

We chatted quickly in the hallway, and he told me to make sure to come up to his room so we could have a longer talk and really catch up. We ended up talking for over an hour about — what else? — his travels, in particular those with his wife, Mary Lou, as well as my plans for work and graduate school. We also talked about the historical nonfiction series that he was in the middle of reading.

Although he was a longtime friend of my family, I really got to know Mr. Estabrook when I was an intern at The Lakeville Journal in the summer of 2007. I will forever remember him sitting in editorial meetings playing with the tape dispenser and seemingly knowing the answer to just about every question, whether it was about a local matter or a more general journalistic question.

I will also never forget that for most of the events that I covered while working at The Journal, he and Mary Lou somehow managed to show up to at least two thirds of them. How two people could be in so many places at once I don’t think I will ever figure out.

He wrote my recommendation letter to Mount Holyoke College, his daughter’s alma mater, and I believe his letter was  an important factor in the school accepting me.

As I think about Mr. Estabrook and the legacy that he has left both in and far beyond the Northwest Corner, I think about all of the amazing stories that he has told me. The number of stories and unique experiences that he had throughout all stages of his career is astounding.

What is perhaps even more astounding is the sheer number of experiences that I’m sure he didn’t share with me. When people talk about someone living a full and happy life, Mr. Estabrook is whom they are referring to. He got to do things, go places and talk to people that most will only dream of.

I am so appreciative of his help, mentoring, advice and friendship.

I am, however, most thankful for the encouragement he gave me to go out and find my own stories, and of course, to write them all down.

Jane Maglaque
Sharon

 

 

 

 

I believe it was around 1964 that my class from the Lee H. Kellogg School took a class trip to Pocket Knife Square and a tour of The Lakeville Journal. We learned of a story being prepared, written, put to type and, finally, the  rolling of the presses. It was quite exciting for us.

I could never have imagined how important that Lakeville Journal and its owner, Bob Estabrook, would become in my life, and how sorry I would be to hear of his passing.

I was caught up in a whirlwind of incarceration and countless legal procedings, both legal and civil, over the course of many years and over that time The Journal reported the facts as well as asked the hard questions of those in power. At the helm was Bob Estabrook.

When we would see each other, waiting for the court to open or when they were in recess, it wasn’t with that professional approach that one would think, but  with a smile and a handshake, and a genuine concern for my well-being.

His quest for the truth was first and at the forefront as he and The Journal sided with me to request that the state make available all the records of the investigation into my mother’s death through the Freedom of Information Commission.

My thoughts are with the Estabrook family. Bob’s honesty, integrity and  tenacity will be much missed. Thank you.

Peter A. Reilly
Tolland

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