A Tribute to A Friend and Colleague

I learned today of the death of my friend and longtime colleague Joan Haines.

A reporter at the Bozeman Chronicle for many years Joan followed her own path even if it strayed from that suggested by her editors. As the Chronicle’s features editor, I butted heads with her on more than one occasion.

I well remember meeting with Joan and our managing editor in the Chronicle conference room concerning a story she didn’t want to cover. Joan sat down, placed a tape recorder on the table, looked at the two of us sitting across from her, and announced she had better stories to write.

And she did.

Originally the paper’s womens editor when newspapers had such a position, Joan had little interest in such things. She wanted to be taken seriously as a reporter and worked hard at her craft to make that happen.

Joan would use her vacation days to attend reporters’ workshops and writing seminars. As her daughter, Cathy, wrote in her mother’s obituary, she would do anything for a story.

That attitude wasn’t always appreciated. I can still hear Joan working the phones, asking questions, not giving up. She was always polite, but firm. And when that voice on the other end of the line grew loud, angry, and sometimes profane, Joan always said “Bless you,” before hanging up.

She developed the habit of giving herself pep talks in the women’s room, and frightened more than a couple of young reporters with her admonition of “Joan, Joan, Joan,” heard coming from behind the stall door.

She loved writing about grizzly bears and bison, which she referred to as “griz” and “buff.”

As many times as Joan and I butted heads, we became fast friends. The last time I saw her was in Seattle more than a decade ago. She’d moved there following her retirement from the Chronicle to be nearer her daughter and family. My stepdaughter was getting married there and we’d sent Joan an invitation to the wedding.

I was thrilled to see her at the reception. Like old friends do, we complimented each other on how good we looked and how little we’d changed. Joan was being nice. I was being honest. She still looked the same, even down to the reporters’ notebook she carried. Ever the reporter, Joan spent the evening writing down names and description of the folks she met.

There was no stopping her.

Joan, Joan, Joan.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]