Requiem For a Journalist You Never Met

By Don Varyu

June 2, 2022

He was a titan of journalism, even though you never knew him. But I did. And now that he’s gone, I grieve. He meant so much to me. To my career—and my life.

Paul Zimbrakos was the editor of the City News Bureau of Chicago for decades from the 50’s to the aughts. He was almost always a solemn presence (at least to me), peering out from under arching black brows and over an equally impressive black mustache. And oh…those eyes. They could penetrate. Most often, they would pierce. He wanted to illuminate your naivete and your mistakes and your vulnerability. It hurt. He would later say his young minions, would need, “honesty…(and to) not worry about your ego, especially because it’s going to take a battering when you’re learning.” So wise. You wanted to be better--you just wanted to do better for him. His organization was a cauldron for aspiring journalists, and those who graduated knew they had been tested. Legendary alumni included Mike Royko, the most celebrated newspaper columnist in Chicago history; New York Times investigative reporter Seymour Hersh (Vietnam’s My Lai massacre; Watergate; Abu Ghraib); and novelist Kurt Vonnegut.

I was no legend. Paul treated me like everyone else. He assigned me to the late-night shift in police area headquarters, where I heard young black kids being pummeled by overweight white cops behind closed doors. I covered the trial of those convicted of the sniper killings of two Chicago cops in the infamous Cabrini-Green housing projects. When they locked the doors behind me, I realized that B.B. King and I were the only non-convicts at a concert room of 500 inmates at the Cook County Jail. Paul did that to me—and for me.

And without ever explaining why, he eventually assigned me to the prize beat of the Bureau—covering the daily exploits of Chicago’s infamous Mayor Richard J. Daley—the same guy who unleashed his cops to batter Vietnam protestors in Chicago for the 1968 Democratic convention. Paul made me know that man. And that mayor tried to romance me--just because I was a journalist. 

I really don’t want this to be about me, but I have such memories. I want it to be about Paul. The situations where he dropped me were the same ones he did to hundreds—maybe thousands--of others. He wasn’t just a teacher or a mentor. He saw us in a way we were not able to yet see ourselves. And most of all, he knew what journalism should be about.

So, even though you never saw Paul's glare, treasure it. He made journalism better—and he made the world a better place.

Paul…thank you, and rest in peace…
 

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