The Mentor’s Roadmap: A Tribute to S. Griffin Singer

My introduction to S. Griffin Singer dates back more than 30 years. A second-year journalism student at the University of Texas, I faced a long list of required courses with numbers for names and no roadmap to sequence them. 

By YVONNE MINTZ, The Facts

Registration loomed, and I felt very much a number myself when I showed up at Professor Singer’s office door.

“Griff” knew it all, friends told me. But because I hadn’t had him for class yet, my knock was timid, his response somewhat tepid.

Griff had been heading out, likely to teach his actual students, but he stopped, took my paper and patiently explained what to take when. I walked out that door knowing my path.

That was the beginning of one of the most enduring relationships of my life and the first of many times Griff would help me find my way. 

A Life in Ink

Griff lived 93 years before his death this week in an Austin hospital. Doctors had diagnosed him with an aggressive form of malignant lymphoma in January. He remained in good health almost until the end, so it was easy to forget his age. It feels selfish to have wanted more time, but I did. He was my favorite person to talk journalism with — one of my favorite people, period.

Over more than three decades at UT Austin, Griff mentored generations of Texas journalists and authors. They included Pulitzer Prize winners and nationally known names, as well as people like me: a small-town reporter who grew her career at one newspaper and ended up running the joint.

Griff’s own career was legendary. He helped direct coverage for The Dallas Morning News during the JFK assassination and copy-edited at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution during the Olympics —  notably, under the direction of a former student. He even worked with Russian-trained journalists to adapt to a free press as part of the first Western team sent to the former Soviet state of Kyrgyzstan. During my time at UT, he spent his summers in the Houston Chronicle newsroom just to stay current on real-world operations—and because he loved it.

He spent more than six decades teaching and never stopped learning. That’s how much he loved our craft.

“Bacon and Eggs” Philosophy

Griff believed in the power of community journalism and preached it in class. Work at a small paper, he told us. You’ll write stories on drainage improvements and features on the fair queen, sure. But when the big story breaks, you’ll be the one to get that, too. 

He was right, of course. I told him so after I covered the Great Texas Mosquito Festival for The Facts, then less than a year later worked with a colleague to investigate and write stories that led to the resignation of a powerful state senator. Griff was as proud of me as my own father.

His teachings permeate every bit of who I am. The love he instilled in me for making a difference guides my decisions as publisher of The Facts and a vice president of Southern Newspapers Inc. These are decisions made to sustain journalism at its core, and Griff taught me the value in that.

On the practical side, his “bacon and eggs” test — what a reader would want to see in the paper at the breakfast table — later evolved into the “yogurt and granola” test. It kept many a bloody photo out of my newspaper.

Then there was the design class where we labored over page layouts using headlines he provided. About a quarter of the way through, a bell rang and Griff passed out new slips of paper.

“Breaking news!”

We groaned as we ripped up our pages, and Griff laughed. 

The Wise Edit

Griff is the reason I ended up with Southern Newspapers and The Facts specifically. When the company came to campus for interviews, he recommended me—likely because I sat in the front row and asked good questions. It certainly wasn’t because of my design skills.

At every turn in my career, Griff offered tough love, an ear, a shoulder and always encouragement. Going through old files at home the other day I found a cover letter and clips I had faxed to Griff. “Let me know what you think.” He always did.

He made sure community newspaper leaders like me had a seat in rooms with people from papers like the Washington Post, The Dallas Morning News and the Houston Chronicle. 

We connected at least twice a year, mostly at Texas Press Association and Freedom of Information Foundation conventions, and we texted in between, sending each other funny headlines or industry head-scratchers.

When I heard Griff was ill, panic hit. I sent a text, unsure if he would see it but knowing it might be the last thing he heard from me. I wanted him to know his worth.

“I am praying for you, dear friend. I value you as a mentor and cherish you as a friend and confidant. May God be with you through this struggle.”

The next day, he answered, just like he always did.

(Yvonne Mintz is publisher of The Facts. She is also currently vice president of Texas Press Association.)

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