J Heslop was a rare breed who will be missed

All the good men aren't gone. But one of them is.

J Malan Heslop passed away last week.

J was 88; his wife of 65 years, Fae, died 28 months ago, so it was one of those sad but happy passings, the prevailing feeling of loved ones that J and Fae are together again and living it up.

J was my boss at the Deseret News when he was managing editor from 1976 until he retired in 1988.

You know that editor who stands up in the middle of the newsroom, yells "Copy!" or "Rewrite!" or "Benson, in my office! Now!" and then storms into his office and slams the door?

That wasn't J Heslop.

Of all the bosses I had at the Deseret News, he was the one who least acted like one. I think part of it was that he spent his first 20 years as a photographer. Photographers are the bartenders of the newspaper trade; they constantly interact with all the reporters and editors, they hear all their gripes and issues, but they remain one step removed and entirely sympathetic.

It would be a good idea if everyone who ran a newspaper had to first work as a photographer for at least a year.

I think the other part of it was that J instinctively liked to lead from behind rather than in front. He figured he'd get the most good out of you if you felt good about yourself. He was constantly complimenting something. The last time I saw him, the first words out of his mouth were, "I've been reading the paper; you're doing a fine job. Keep it up."

He said that to all the writers.

Carma Wadley, who retired this month from the News after her own 40-year shift, talked to J last November for a story about his days as a combat photographer in World War II.

"He was just like he always was," she says, "he always had something good to say. He made you feel like you mattered and then you wanted to do it better."

Her article chronicled J's march through Europe in 1944-45 as the German army was being routed by the Allies. Fresh off the family farm in Utah, he spent nine months photographing the war's final chapter and aftermath. He was one of the first Americans into Ebensee in Austria, a Nazi prison camp where 60,000 Jews and prisoners of war were incarcerated.