I suppose most of us have some buildings we are nostalgic about. It could be houses that we’ve made homes. Or school buildings where we were educated and made lifelong friends. Or arenas and theaters where we had a lot of fun.
For me, one of those buildings is located at Sixth and Broadway in downtown Louisville. For many years, it was home to the Bingham family’s high-quality media enterprises – The Courier-Journal, The Louisville Times, and WHAS radio and TV.
Some of our nation’s finest journalists worked there at one time or another. The ideas and execution for no telling how many Pulitzers and other lofty prizes were produced there.
And now, abandoned by the Gannett Co., it’s up for sale.
This makes me infinitely sad. I worked there from 1966-’68, left for four years to work at Sports Illustrated in New York, and then returned in 1972. I became The Courier’s general columnist in 1974, succeeding the late and much beloved Joe Creason, and the paper’s sports editor from 1977-’86, succeeding Dave Kindred when he went to The Washington Post.
Billy Reed is a member of the U.S. Basketball Writers Hall of Fame, the Kentucky Journalism Hall of Fame, the Kentucky Athletic Hall of Fame and the Transylvania University Hall of Fame. He has been named Kentucky Sports Writer of the Year eight times and has won the Eclipse Award three times. Reed has written about a multitude of sports events for over four decades and is perhaps one of the most knowledgeable writers on the Kentucky Derby. His book “Last of a BReed” is available on Amazon. The only reason I left was that I couldn’t work for Gannett in good conscience. It was one of the first media chains that cared for more about the bottom line than quality journalism. Barry Bingham Sr. did not want to sell to Gannett, but his daughter Sallie threatened to sue him if he didn’t take the highest offer.
The building at 525 W. Broadway was unique because of its yellowish color and a curved corner. The story was that Bingham Sr. had seen a similar building on Fleet Street in London, home to many of that nation’s newspapers, and decided to copy it.
I made friends there who were both outstanding at their jobs, but great people besides. I think of columnist, writers, reporters and editors such as Kindred, Jim Bolus, Mike Barry, Carol Sutton, Earl Cox, Willie Riddle and many others.
We also had a photographic staff that was as talented as any in the nation. Led rather loosely by Billy Davis, a quirky guy who loved to wear string ties and fly the company’s one-engine Cessna, the staff included C. Thomas Hardin, Bill Luster, Richard Nugent and others who could have worked anywhere.
On days when I wasn’t on the road, I loved to go into the newsroom on the fourth floor and just hang around, soaking up the gossip. The atmosphere was electric. I remember the clatter of manual typewriters and wire-service machines, the hum of conversation between writers and editor, the occasional shouts of “Copy” to copy boys.
In 1972, in that very newsroom, Barry Bingham Jr. had a staff meeting. He told us the day was coming, faster than we could imagine, when newspapers would be gone and all news would be delivered electronically.
I looked around and saw a lot of suppressed giggling and eye-rolling. Had he lost his mind? Who could imagine life without print newspapers?
I didn’t go back to the building from the day I left until one day five years ago I got the urge to see how much things had changed. It was depressing. The fourth and fifth floors, where I had small offices when I worked there, were virtually empty. It was quiet, save for the murmur of a small group of editors in one desolate corner.
And now the building is for sale.
How do you put a price on a hallowed place like that? Knowing the Gannett profiteers, it’s probably overpriced so nobody will buy it and they can demolish it to make room for some new enterprise that will make them a lot of money.
I would love to see it sold to a wealthy citizen who values journalism the old-fashioned way. He or she could turn it into a Kentucky Journalism Museum and Library. That way, all the people who worked there and the tools they used would be available for the enlightenment of future journalists.
I hope for the best, but expect the worse. And if the day ever comes when the wrecking ball arrives at Sixth and Broadway, I will mourn the death of a dear old friends.
