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POSTVIEW Losing our editor-in-chief: A death in the family The Prague Post (April 8, 2004) You are holding the only issue of The Prague Post ever published without Alan Levy as editor-in-chief. In the days since his death April 2, we have received countless tributes from former colleagues who have gone on to write, edit, design and take photos for publications all over the globe. It's clear from these e-mails that, having worked with Alan in the trenches, they feel a special bond with him. To be sure, he had countless friends. But only a limited number of people are privileged to say they worked with Alan at The Prague Post. The e-mails are full of reverence -- and irreverence (two things Alan enjoyed equally). The writers mention over and over his generosity in mentoring young reporters -- and his eagerness to deflate those of us who, filled with the aplomb of youth, believed we knew everything. They talk of his ability to spin hilarious off-color yarns in the newsroom and of his fastidious attention to grammar and accuracy. (Most infuriating was when he was right; just ask the admonished copy editor who once stomped down the hallway muttering, "Alan is an anagram for anal!") They talk of his legendary appetite for parties, balls, receptions, galas and premieres and of his generosity and flair when entertaining friends. They mention the mammoth encyclopedia of facts Alan stored between his ears, and the genuine interest he showed in the lives of people a third his age (he advised others to "heed the wisdom of the young"). They mention his love of opera and theater -- and his passion for square-dancing and knowledge of baseball. They mention how fiery he could be standing up for something in which he believed (years back, to protest the paper accepting a cigarette ad, Alan came to work for days wearing a surgical mask), and the lengths to which he'd go to help someone in whom he believed. And over and over, they express shock that someone so vital and full of energy could die (Alan hated euphemisms such as "pass away") so suddenly. Friends sometimes called him the "oldest young American in Prague." When he turned 70, Alan wrote a Prague Profile of himself ("Still forming after all these years: Reflections of a new septuagenarian straddling a couple of centuries," Feb. 13, 2002). "I'm still forming and maybe I'll find out who I am when I read my obituary," he wrote. "Until then, I work hard, play hard, take good care of my health and enjoy life to the hilt." Another theme that comes up over and over when we remember Alan is luck. How lucky for him to spend his life doing what he loved best: writing. And how lucky to experience Prague during the late '60s and early '90s. How lucky for Alan to have such a wonderful wife and family. How lucky that in the week before his final session of chemotherapy, he was able to speak at the Prague Writers' Festival, dine with friends and spend an afternoon as a guest at the U.S. ambassador's residence. How lucky he was to have so many friends and admirers. And how lucky we were to have known him. We don't claim to know where Alan headed when he passed away ... er, died. But we know from his wife, Val, that to the very end he was concerned as always about the next edition of the paper and about his next profile subjects. And we know that wherever he went, he arrived wearing glasses and a bolo tie, carrying his tote bag, filled as always with tattered copies of the International Herald Tribune and The Prague Post, and sporting a shirt pocket full of pens, including the all-powerful red one. |
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