When Lynn strode into the Feather River Bulletin newsroom in 1986, reporting on flood damage for the SF Examiner, my colleagues and I were impressed. Immediately he picked up on the repressive vibe at the small-town rag (we had to write 150 inches a week before pasting up the columns) where we were instructed: no talking, no laughing. While journalism might not be the most lucrative profession, according to Lynn, newsrooms tend to be congenial places where writers share information and gallows humor.
He gave me his business card and if one can wash and polish paper, I did just that. In fact, I consulted with Lynn before every choice and twist in my career. When I moved from the Sierra to Sonoma County, he asked if I wanted to string for the Examiner. What an honor. My first story was a lengthy saga about Sebastopol’s decision regarding the direction of traffic on Main Street. The city did make the thoroughfare one way, yet the conflict continues today.
I went from The Paper in Guerneville to the Sonoma Index-Tribune (Lynn really encouraged that move), eventually to the feature department at the Antioch Daily-Ledger. When Pittsburg bureau chief Bill Hutchinson (AKA Hutch) extended his hand and said ‘Welcome aboard,’ I was charmed. When he said Lynn had been his professor at San Francisco State, it was a sign from
the heavens. We’ve been married more than 30 years and regardless which coast we live on, we visit Lynn and Margo every chance we get.
I know how much Lynn’s fellow reporters, students, even acquaintances benefit from his generosity, his enthusiasm about journalism, his ethics. Back in the day, many of us made pit stops in Stinson Beach, slept in that old-timey trundle bed, later breaking bread or matzah in
Bernal Heights, bonding with beloved daughter Kenny. A colorful raconteur, Lynn was always researching, always writing, always affectionate — Bill and I will never forget our dear friend.
My deepest condolences to all who knew and loved Lynn, especially his family. I had the lucky privilege of working with him on his No Encore article, when he emailed me based on a comment I made on a genealogy blog. He was researching the same story. I loved our conversations, his passion for a good story, his incredible writing, and his kind, gracious manner. He was a surprise gift who briefly dropped into my life, and inspired me to stay curious and engaged in what I love.
Lynn told me he had damn few newspaper gig bucket list items, but that I provided him with one of the all time great City Room moments. It went like this:
In 1985, Kevin Starr - my journalism prof at USF -wrote a letter of introduction to William Randolph Hearst III. Mr. Hearst handed me over to Larry Kramer who handed me over to Frank McCulloch who hired me as an Editorial Assistant (copy boy). I had the enviable midnight shift.
One Saturday morning around 4 am, about one month into my journalism career, a four-alarm fire broke out at an apartment building five blocks away. Lynn was on the City Desk. I heard him send Shelly Smith, the only reporter in the room. Ten minutes later, Lynn gets a call from Smith. I was sitting nearby working on the weather page. Lynn pointed at me and said, "Kid, do you speak Spanish?" I said yes. "Great! You're a reporter now! Go grab a pad and pencil and get your ass down to this address and get me quotes from residents - they don't speak English!"
Sometime later, as we were playing basketball at the Hayes Valley Rec Center, he confided that he'd long had this little fantasy about sending the copy boy into a breaking news event.
I wrote up the quotes, added some details - Mayor Feinstein in cowboy boots - tossed the piece his way and went about my duties.
A while later, Lynn held the bull edition in his hands - he was grinning at me. I looked at the front page - he gave me my one and only front page byline - two actually. In one story my name was on top. Lynn said he felt like Perry White sending out Jimmy Olson.
A great journalism teacher from San Francisco State in the 1970's. Always encouraging us young and dumb to stretch our boundaries. To question what we were being told and report the truth. I just hope he'll be there when I pass through the gates to hand me my next assignment.
Thanks for this lovely tribute in which I learned even more amazing qualities that Lynn possessed! That he was beloved and admired is known. May many heartfelt memories sustain you Margo, Kenny, and extended tribe, in your loss.
Thank you for this wonderful tribute to a wonderful life and a wonderful man. I had the privilege to meet Lynn in late 1992 on my return to San Francisco, coincidentally when he was about the same age as I am now. The mirror reflections of life. He published an unsolicited op-ed of mine in the pages of the Examiner and several others after that. It was during what one friend has called the "Notes from Underground" period of my life, and Lynn's generosity of spirit gave me a needed boost of confidence and a sense of connection to the real world that I otherwise lacked at the time. It turns out we had basketball in common too. We played many pick-up games together in different parts of the city during that year. He still had a mean hook shot and played with grim (mostly age-appropriate) determination. I remember him almost getting into a fistfight with a much younger player who played unnecessarily rough, and then suddenly catching himself and, wisely, pulling back. We remained in touch from time to time since I joined the Foreign Service in early January 1994, and exchanged a note or two, including about basketball, in the intervening years. I feel grateful for the final WhatsApp conversation we had just 3 months ago, spurred by my enthusiastic reaction to one of his wonderfully quirky articles in True Yarns. I was envious of his clean, taut prose style, laced with irony, humor and infused with a sense of history, and will always think of him as a mentor and a friend. Adios, mi amigo, and parabens for a life well-lived! Alexis
I recognize so much in this beautiful tribute to Lynn. The McDevitt family was blessed to share summers at Camp Mather with the Ludlows, and as kids learn about water as we tagged along to Hetch Hetchy for journalistic research and read the series in the Examiner. Much love to the family as you give this wonderful human a new place in your lives. As Chris says, Lynn is just a shared story away
Lynn was the best mentor I had at SF State and there were other good ones as well. One thing he said, and which I wish I'd listened to, was learn to dance, women love it.
Lynn was one of the most wonderful men I've ever known, one of the last of the great old school newsmen and friend. Just a couple months ago he was giving me advice on researching a project and offering to edit, if needed. Always a giver. I read this obit and learned so much I did not know! I am so grateful to have known him.
What a giant. Such a tremendously difficult task to summarize the enormity of his life, the people that cared about him, and the work he did. It’s awe inspiring.
When Lynn strode into the Feather River Bulletin newsroom in 1986, reporting on flood damage for the SF Examiner, my colleagues and I were impressed. Immediately he picked up on the repressive vibe at the small-town rag (we had to write 150 inches a week before pasting up the columns) where we were instructed: no talking, no laughing. While journalism might not be the most lucrative profession, according to Lynn, newsrooms tend to be congenial places where writers share information and gallows humor.
He gave me his business card and if one can wash and polish paper, I did just that. In fact, I consulted with Lynn before every choice and twist in my career. When I moved from the Sierra to Sonoma County, he asked if I wanted to string for the Examiner. What an honor. My first story was a lengthy saga about Sebastopol’s decision regarding the direction of traffic on Main Street. The city did make the thoroughfare one way, yet the conflict continues today.
I went from The Paper in Guerneville to the Sonoma Index-Tribune (Lynn really encouraged that move), eventually to the feature department at the Antioch Daily-Ledger. When Pittsburg bureau chief Bill Hutchinson (AKA Hutch) extended his hand and said ‘Welcome aboard,’ I was charmed. When he said Lynn had been his professor at San Francisco State, it was a sign from
the heavens. We’ve been married more than 30 years and regardless which coast we live on, we visit Lynn and Margo every chance we get.
I know how much Lynn’s fellow reporters, students, even acquaintances benefit from his generosity, his enthusiasm about journalism, his ethics. Back in the day, many of us made pit stops in Stinson Beach, slept in that old-timey trundle bed, later breaking bread or matzah in
Bernal Heights, bonding with beloved daughter Kenny. A colorful raconteur, Lynn was always researching, always writing, always affectionate — Bill and I will never forget our dear friend.
My deepest condolences to all who knew and loved Lynn, especially his family. I had the lucky privilege of working with him on his No Encore article, when he emailed me based on a comment I made on a genealogy blog. He was researching the same story. I loved our conversations, his passion for a good story, his incredible writing, and his kind, gracious manner. He was a surprise gift who briefly dropped into my life, and inspired me to stay curious and engaged in what I love.
Lynn told me he had damn few newspaper gig bucket list items, but that I provided him with one of the all time great City Room moments. It went like this:
In 1985, Kevin Starr - my journalism prof at USF -wrote a letter of introduction to William Randolph Hearst III. Mr. Hearst handed me over to Larry Kramer who handed me over to Frank McCulloch who hired me as an Editorial Assistant (copy boy). I had the enviable midnight shift.
One Saturday morning around 4 am, about one month into my journalism career, a four-alarm fire broke out at an apartment building five blocks away. Lynn was on the City Desk. I heard him send Shelly Smith, the only reporter in the room. Ten minutes later, Lynn gets a call from Smith. I was sitting nearby working on the weather page. Lynn pointed at me and said, "Kid, do you speak Spanish?" I said yes. "Great! You're a reporter now! Go grab a pad and pencil and get your ass down to this address and get me quotes from residents - they don't speak English!"
Sometime later, as we were playing basketball at the Hayes Valley Rec Center, he confided that he'd long had this little fantasy about sending the copy boy into a breaking news event.
I wrote up the quotes, added some details - Mayor Feinstein in cowboy boots - tossed the piece his way and went about my duties.
A while later, Lynn held the bull edition in his hands - he was grinning at me. I looked at the front page - he gave me my one and only front page byline - two actually. In one story my name was on top. Lynn said he felt like Perry White sending out Jimmy Olson.
RIP old friend.
Very nice obit, Steve. One of the greats from the greatest era in San Francisco newspapering and related hi jinx. I wish I had known him better.
A great journalism teacher from San Francisco State in the 1970's. Always encouraging us young and dumb to stretch our boundaries. To question what we were being told and report the truth. I just hope he'll be there when I pass through the gates to hand me my next assignment.
We enjoyed reading about Lynn’s amazing life story. Sending healing hugs and love to the Ludlow Family as GOD welcomes Lynn into the Kingdom.
A beautiful tribute to a beautiful guy. My condolences to Margo, Kenny and the entire family.
Thanks for this lovely tribute in which I learned even more amazing qualities that Lynn possessed! That he was beloved and admired is known. May many heartfelt memories sustain you Margo, Kenny, and extended tribe, in your loss.
Thank you for this wonderful tribute to a wonderful life and a wonderful man. I had the privilege to meet Lynn in late 1992 on my return to San Francisco, coincidentally when he was about the same age as I am now. The mirror reflections of life. He published an unsolicited op-ed of mine in the pages of the Examiner and several others after that. It was during what one friend has called the "Notes from Underground" period of my life, and Lynn's generosity of spirit gave me a needed boost of confidence and a sense of connection to the real world that I otherwise lacked at the time. It turns out we had basketball in common too. We played many pick-up games together in different parts of the city during that year. He still had a mean hook shot and played with grim (mostly age-appropriate) determination. I remember him almost getting into a fistfight with a much younger player who played unnecessarily rough, and then suddenly catching himself and, wisely, pulling back. We remained in touch from time to time since I joined the Foreign Service in early January 1994, and exchanged a note or two, including about basketball, in the intervening years. I feel grateful for the final WhatsApp conversation we had just 3 months ago, spurred by my enthusiastic reaction to one of his wonderfully quirky articles in True Yarns. I was envious of his clean, taut prose style, laced with irony, humor and infused with a sense of history, and will always think of him as a mentor and a friend. Adios, mi amigo, and parabens for a life well-lived! Alexis
I recognize so much in this beautiful tribute to Lynn. The McDevitt family was blessed to share summers at Camp Mather with the Ludlows, and as kids learn about water as we tagged along to Hetch Hetchy for journalistic research and read the series in the Examiner. Much love to the family as you give this wonderful human a new place in your lives. As Chris says, Lynn is just a shared story away
A terrific man. And what a wonderful life he led! Lots of love to Margo and family.
This brought so many tears to my eyes - such gratitude for having known this remarkable man- thank you for sharing such a beautiful tribute.
Damn fine obit, Rube. You did the great man proud 🙏🎶🍀
Lynn was the best mentor I had at SF State and there were other good ones as well. One thing he said, and which I wish I'd listened to, was learn to dance, women love it.
Lynn was one of the most wonderful men I've ever known, one of the last of the great old school newsmen and friend. Just a couple months ago he was giving me advice on researching a project and offering to edit, if needed. Always a giver. I read this obit and learned so much I did not know! I am so grateful to have known him.
What a giant. Such a tremendously difficult task to summarize the enormity of his life, the people that cared about him, and the work he did. It’s awe inspiring.
Thank you Steve, Mom, and Charlie.