To our readers: sharing a bit of Al

There comes a time when you forget everything you thought you could say tomorrow. Those words leave me now as I think about Albert Salvato.

It was shortly after Al began his career at the University of Cincinnati as director of Student Media that I began mine; it never crossed my mind that my tenure would be longer than his.

I was fortunate enough to meet a man who radiated warmth. Al's door was always open, and he was always ready to listen. Being an educator was his passion, and I believe he felt that he had found the perfect place to cultivate young minds to be passionate and ethical journalists. He cultivated us to be passionate people as well.

To Al, there was a solution to any problem, and an opportunity around every corner. He was an optimistic kind of guy. Even when he was diagnosed with Hairy Cell Leukemia, he told us he'd be back in a week.

Those who knew him would often joke about "getting stuck in Al's office." What you would consider to be a quick trip to discuss a minor academic issue would turn into a story. Many knew the telltale signs: sitting back; crossing his leg over his knee; folding his hands behind his head. After that, you knew it was at least a half hour before he would jokingly tell you to "get out. I've got work to do."

And there was a lot of work. He scheduled his time between his professional work at the Cincinnati Post and The New York Times, teaching classes, overseeing interns, advising my staff and I, grading and advising the UC Society of Professional Journalists chapter. He was also heavily involved in the planning for the SPJ regional conference.

Al ran at least five miles a day, usually with his dog Suzie. He was a key planner for the Flying Pig Marathon, and the Frostbite 5 Mile. He practiced the banjo every chance he could get.

Ever the family man, Al would often tell me when his grandchildren and children came for visits. And I learned from him the secret of being happily married: When his wife Debbie watched "one of her shows," Al would take a walk or play the banjo.

He lived every hour of his life to the fullest.

People in journalism often talk about losing "one of their own" when another journalist dies. But I believe when a journalist, a person who really belongs to the world, dies, the whole world suffers a great loss.

So, what can I say about him? He was a professor. He was a husband, father and grandfather. He was the director of Student Media. He was a volunteer and avid runner. He loved to play the banjo. He was a good person.

Al was my mentor. He was my friend.

And my words cannot do him justice.

Hopefully, by living and working by his example, my life can.

Julie Hollyday

Editor in chief

The News Record