By Mike McCombs
“There’s things that’ll knock you down you don’t even see coming …”
Isn’t that the truth? Song lyrics that have a way of eventually ringing true, if you give them enough time.
Jeff Evans died on Saturday afternoon. And knocked down is too kind for what has happened to some of us. And I can only speak for myself, but it’s going to be a while before I can get up.
Jeff was the Publisher of The Island News, my employer, my boss, my partner in good intentions, my friend, … and so many other things that I haven’t figured out how to put into words yet.
Six and a half years ago, I didn’t know Jeff Evans. And I certainly didn’t see him coming.
Three years removed from being laid off at the Island Packet and Beaufort Gazette, I was working at Randel’s Lawnmowers. I had a job that paid the bills and no illusions about a career. I was surviving.
That’s when Justin Jarrett, a friend and colleague, decided his time as editor of The Island News was up. He gave Jeff his two-week notice, and when Jeff asked if he had any idea who might be suited for the job, Justin gave him my name.
“Who’s that?”
A couple of days later, another friend was asked about her interest in the job. Erin (Moody) Bowman told him she wasn’t interested, but she knew someone who would be.
Once again, someone gave Jeff my name.
“Who is this guy?”
Several days later, more than a week into Justin’s two-week notice, I met Jeff for drinks at Madison’s in Port Royal. The clock was ticking down. He was running out of time to find someone to put the next newspaper out in fewer days than he had fingers on his right hand.
But he wasn’t stressed. He wasn’t even worried. He was calm.
Justifiably so, I guess.
If you had asked me to write what I envisioned a perfect interview to be, I couldn’t have written it any better. It wasn’t because I was confident or had all the right answers or was perfect for the job.
It’s because Jeff and I are both dreamers. From Day 1, or even before Day 1, we were on the same page.
Jeff wasn’t looking to hire someone to fill the job he had open. He was looking to hire someone for the job he wanted it to be. The editor of a real newspaper.
And I wasn’t interviewing for what the job at The Island News actually was — at that time, $250 a week to be a part-time, freelance editor in addition to a 40-hour-a-week job I already had. I was interviewing for the job I thought this could be if a few people – likely Jeff and whoever he hired — cared enough to make it so.
When Jeff acquired The Island News, he did so with the belief it could be the ultra-local community newspaper Beaufort needed. And Jeff was convinced he could make this happen AND continue to give it away for free.
It is, and he did. And I was in the right place at the right time.
From the time I was hired, Jeff made two things clear. One, he trusted me. Completely. And two, he had complete faith in my decision-making. And those are two of the best things you can tell someone else.
I can’t say with complete confidence that that second one was the wisest decision Jeff ever made, but I have done my best to make sure he never felt that way. I owed it to him. I still do.
In a little more than six years, I learned a lot about Jeff. We shared two of our biggest loves, our love for music and our love for baseball. And we shared stories and jokes. Lots of them. And he became family to me.
I went from not having a career, rather just a job that paid the bills, to again doing something that I had passion for, thanks to Jeff. I had much more than a job.
From the start, Jeff made it clear, “We’re going to find a way to hire you full-time.” It took two years, but he did. I never doubted he would.
Anything I needed or wanted, I knew I could approach him and he would try to make it happen.
Things weren’t always rosy. But that’s how you know someone is family. You can be spitting mad at them and still know they have your back and you have theirs.
Jeff and I literally had a shouting match on Bay Street one day. I’m not sure he even remembered it a week later. I still regret it.
When I walk into the office now, things aren’t right. The light isn’t on. Jeff isn’t at his desk on the phone or taking a break on the second-story porch.
After I’ve been here a while, I still expect him to come sauntering in, sunglasses on, with his backpack hanging off one shoulder.
“Hey, Sparky!” he would say. “How’s it going?”
But I know he’s not coming.
And unlike the past six and a half years, when I haven’t seen him for a few days, my phone won’t be lighting up with his name and number just because he wants to make sure everything is all right.
I know the sense of loss I feel is nothing compared to what Jeff’s wife, Margaret, and daughter, Amelia, must feel. But it’s real.
The people in my almost 54 years of life who have meant to me as much as Jeff did in 6 and a half short years, well … I can count them on one hand.
If I could pass along something to the people in Beaufort about Jeff, it would be that you will never know how much he cared about you, even the ones who didn’t care for him.
And if I could be lucky enough to pass along something to Jeff Evans, it would be to tell him that I love him.
Mike McCombs is the Editor of The Island News and can be reached at TheIslandNews@gmail.com.
