Article content The journalistic default gentle task of crafting a tribute about an outstanding person, someone who puts others before them, a gentleman and a trickster, a role model, and a great friend is to call people for comments. But, when it comes to Nick Lees, it’s next to impossible: he knew thousands of people who have even thousands more stories about him. So I’m going to exercise my editorial prerogative.
I’m not going to call anyone. And that does not personify Nick — at all. Because Nick had time for everyone.
On Monday, at age 81, Nick passed away after struggling, with dignity, with cancer and dementia. I first met Nick in the spring of 1985 when I joined The Edmonton Journal as a general reporter. My first image of Nick was him sitting at a Harris video display terminal, and I felt sorry for the poor machine.
As a newspaper veteran who honed his writing on old manual typewriters — banging the keys like someone slamming a sledgehammer — I was waiting for Nick to break the keyboard he was working on. Early on, I quickly saw Nick’s love of “a wee dram” of scotch, and wine. Nick and I went to a United Way dinner and when the waitress asked him if he white or red wine, he quipped: “both.
” “Are you sure?” asked the waitress. “Yes. I’m very thirsty.
” Nick had other hotel adventures. Like his 60th birthday at the Westin. It was a fundraising event for the Salvation Army featuring the Doughboys.
Nick, retired 630 CHED’s morning man Bru.
