May 7, 2007 By Paul Sunyak 4 min read

I first met the legend in or around 1982, when he returned to his native Fayette County to promote a book he had written for the Associated Press on the defining assignment of his stellar journalism career, the Vietnam War. As an aspiring young reporter, not far removed from journalism school, part of a generation shaped by Watergate and Vietnam, it was an honor to be in the presence of George Esper.

Back then George was an AP special correspondent, a title of journalistic nobility held by only a handful of those who worked for the best news organization in the nation. He took a gaggle of us young Herald-Standard staffers out “for dinner and drinks,” and sometime during that evening, this master motivator and mentor started working his magic.

Low-key but passionate about journalism and life, George made everyone feel important. He not only could pull you aside and praise you for doing a good job; he could actually recall with specificity a story or two that you’d written to bolster his assessment.

To someone like me, full of hopes and dreams about someday making a mark in my chosen field, it was unforgettable when the great George Esper said, “You’re the heart and soul of the Herald-Standard.” Many years later, in conversations with my peers from that era, we discovered that George had at various times told each of us that, or something very similar.

By then, it didn’t matter. Nearly every one of us had gone on to do something good in the field, and one unifying strand we all shared was our common association with George Esper, the working-class kid from Uniontown who reached the pinnacle of his profession (including a Pulitzer Prize nomination) but never forgot where he came from.

Based on his 10 years of covering Vietnam, George instilled in me (and in us) some fundamental truths about the profession we love: Government officials don’t always like the truth. Doing the job right means you’ll make enemies. In the face of adversity and roadblocks, you have to have to knuckle down and muster the courage to do what you think is right.

As the years unfolded, I won some journalism awards of my own, George Esper and I became teaching colleagues at West Virginia University’s School of Journalism after he retired from the AP, and we continued to have “dinner and drinks” on a regular basis. We also became friends, and in that regard he’s just as impressive as anything he’s ever written.

Though I gave up teaching in 2005, George still goes out of his way to invite me and other Herald-Standard staffers to meet and dine with the group whenever he brings a high-profile guest speaker to WVU, such as his good friend Peter Arnett and the late David Halberstam, two other journalistic titans.

Now in his 70s, George remains as encouraging and supportive as ever. He’s popular among the students, and I’m sure he continues to work the same career-shaping magic on another generation of aspiring young journalists. He’s as patient and kind-hearted as ever, this man whose accomplishments outshine everyone else’s but who somehow makes you feel like the most important person in the room.

A few years ago, we nominated George for the lifetime achievement award bestowed by The Press Club of Western Pennsylvania. To no one’s surprise, he was selected for that honor, as a product of western Pennsylvania who began his career here and later moved on to Philadelphia, New York, Vietnam, Columbus and Boston.

George has been a faithful attendee ever since, and last year, when I didn’t get a Golden Quill award nomination, he invited me to join him at the WVU table during the awards ceremony. I did and had a great time.

This year, I am a nominee. And I hope to see my good friend George Esper at the awards ceremony, so I can thank him once again for all the good he’s done, in journalism and to inspire people like me.

Paul Sunyak is editorial page editor of the Herald-Standard. He can be reached at 724-439-7577 or at psunyak@heraldstandard.com