Harry McCawley — whose writings occupied this page for decades and whose reporting filled the pages of this newspaper for more than 50 years — was honored during the annual Salute concert Friday night on the courthouse lawn.
An Indiana State Police honor guard, under the command of Harry’s son, Chris McCawley, presented Harry’s widow, Julie, with an American flag in recognition of her late husband’s lifelong support of military veterans and in gratitude for his role in the creation of the Salute concert itself. It was one of two flag presentations that night — the other to honor Sgt. Jonathon M. Hunter, the Columbus soldier killed last August in Afghanistan.
Harry was a remarkable journalist who chronicled life in this community with a skill and a depth-of-understanding unmatched by anyone else. Also unmatched was Harry’s unending and unbending devotion to the task of shining a searchlight on the service and sacrifice of Bartholomew County-area veterans.
Harry’s devotion to those who have served our country was not just a reasoned philosophy or a patriotic decision — it was an emotional cause he had carried with him since he was a preschooler. He was not quite 4 years old when word reached his family in Bardstown, Kentucky, that his older brother had died in combat in Europe. Harry was too young to fully recall the literal events of that day, but he was not too young to recall the emotional impact on the family — that day and for decades to come.
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Like nearly everyone else who knew him, I loved Harry McCawley. We were friends — both professionally and personally — for more than 50 years. I never had a brother “by blood,” but Harry was a lifelong brother “by choice.”
He was laid-back, self-deprecating and, at times, so nonchalant and inattentive to whatever was buzzing around him that he could appear to be the model for the “absent-minded professor.” For those suckered into that belief, however, I want to reveal that Harry was a really good “con man” — a benevolent and high-minded one, but a “con man” nonetheless.
In all the years Harry and I worked together, we swapped “supervisor roles” now and then. When he was a sports editor and I was an intern/reporter, I sometimes worked for him. When he was managing editor, I worked for him as his news editor. Then when I was publisher years later, Harry reported to the editor, who reported to me.
It was in that lineup of responsibility that I first learned to appreciate Harry’s ability at “the con.”
Sometime in late March 2000, Harry nonchalantly stopped by my office to pitch a new “community service” idea for The Republic. He said he thought we should sponsor a Memorial Day weekend concert on the courthouse lawn to honor our veterans. He figured that he could get it going for about $5,000.
I listened, thought the idea was worth some consideration, but pointed out that our community service budget had been “locked in” the previous November and that we had no funds of that magnitude uncommitted.
Harry’s response went something like: “Uh. (2-minute pause.) That’s too bad. I guess we are in a big mess. (Another 2-minute pause.) I was so sure you would say, ‘Yes,’ that I contacted two other companies who said they would each give $5,000 on the basis of our leadership. I guess I can call them and tell them the concert is off. I know this will be embarrassing for the newspaper, but I guess it has to be done.”
Harry got the $5,000 for that first Salute concert — and an additional one for each for the next 17 years.
Ah, Harry. The community misses you, The Republic misses you — and, so do I.
Bud Herron is a retired editor and newspaper publisher who lives in Columbus. He served as publisher of The Republic from 1998 to 2007. His weekly column appears on the Opinion page each Sunday. Contact him at editorial@therepublic.com
