LIFE IN THE WAR ZONE: SO LONG, BILL RAPPLEYE

     The last 36 hours have been a wasteland of sorts, during which we watched as some major chaos occurred in the US Capitol Building. We were all glued to the news outlets.

    But there's another news story which I don't want buried in the claustrophobic miasma that has been taking over our thoughts, our feelings, our collective unconscious.

    It's the story about how a friend of mine, Bill Rappleye, a guy for whom journalism was his life's work, died this morning. And no, this isn't going to be one of those sappy, sad bits meant to wring tears from your eyes. No way.

    Bill (actually Willard) and I first met years ago when we were both working at a tiny cable TV station in Fall River, Massachusetts. We were looking for another reporter and he showed up, full of beans and energy, and somehow conned me to hire him.  

    The following months were entertaining, to say the least. I never realized what I had gotten myself into when I let the guy in the door. 

    Bill drove me nuts. Yep. He was always asking questions. He got in my face and didn't stop until we had gotten to the bottom of whatever black hole he had discovered and needed to tell the world about. Sometimes we had to edit stories at ridiculous hours because studio time was limited. No matter to him, it was part of the package.

    Now I was not much better. I, too, had my ambitions and would push Bill to the wall if that needed to happen. A couple of times we were arguing very loudly (it really WAS a small TV station) so we would go in the parking lot and that way nobody else could hear us.

    Yeah, right.  They heard us anyway.  "They" were some other whippersnappers that peopled the tiny studio and worked like crazy to put together a half-hour newscast with minimal resources and lots and lots and lots of imagination. 

    "They" were Kathleen McKenna, Debbie Therrien, Jimmy Donnelly, Dan Koczera, John Methia, Tim Petit, Mike Chvany, the late Phil Sabatino and also Joe Langhan. Can't scribble this bit without mentioning all of you. 

    Bill went onto other, bigger things as did the rest of us. But today I can't help going back to those first days, in which all was possible and getting to work with Bill was a hell of a lot of fun and a learning experience. Those are days for which I will be grateful the rest of my life.

    And now Bill is history, and a lot of people will be scribbling nice obituaries and stories about his kindness, his intelligence and his work ethic. All those are very, very true.

    But Heaven just got itself a tremendous journalist, one which will throw himself into it and not be afraid to drive God crazy asking tough questions.

   Raise hell in Heaven, Bill.