I’ve recently learned about Hugh Pain passing away this winter. I would never say «passing away» instead of «dying», but this is how I’ve learned about it.
A month ago I’ve tried to ring him up at home… The other family lives there now.
Then I’ve recalled about his plans to move to Crete, so I’ve dialed up Reuters foundation and asked for Hugh’s new contacts.
A young girl said: “Who’s that?”…
“Well”, I said, “…Hugh Pain – don’t you know him?”
And she said: “no…”
She was a good girl, so she asked someone in the room, holding the receiver in a way so I couldn’t overhear their conversation.
And then I’ve heard her soft voice saying: “I’m sorry to say… But Hugh has passed away”.
For a brief second, recollecting my English, I still thought that «pass away» may be a synonym to «retire»… it took me some time to translate.
I knew he had cancer, but I never thought he could die…
Hugh, who knew ancient Greek, hated television, and collected first editions… He was a huge man with a huge, beautifully organized brain. He was solid, humorous, cool in judgment and yet kindhearted. His nickname was “Huge Pain”…
Hugh was a Reuters bureau chief in many countries, including India. In Romania he found the woman of his life. She became his wife, and also his personal translator from Russian. Hugh has survived a land-mine explosion in Bosnia, when his legs where shattered, but he had the strength to help his wounded colleagues.
“The good news from the near-death front is that you don’t have time to be scared” – he wrote in the report.
In his sixties Hugh remained an amateur-writer. Couple of years ago he told me he’s about to finish a novel… We haven’t met since then, so I’ve never read a line from it. Hope, he had found his readers. For me and, I guess, for Hugh, there’s no word as touching, tender and demanding as the word “reader”…
When I’ve heard about him “passing away” I’ve realized for the first time in my life, that something had gone forever…
Hugh was my trainer during the “writing international news” course in Beirut. A great teacher of journalism and one of those friends, whom you can see once in an age, but who would remember everything from your last conversation.
I remember how we made friends in 2004, after realizing we have the same icons — George Orwell and Tom Waits. Then he told me the story about the lost chapter of “Animal farm” luckily recovered from a Ukrainian translation…
“He’s more Ukrainian then I am – I thought then — If he knows such an important thing about my country”. This story about saving the Orwell’s draft from a «samizdat» ukrainian edition is much more precious for me than any “kozzacs” or “Bandera” staff…
Every now and then coming to an old bookshop I’ve searched for that old translation… If I were lucky to find this precious Ukrainian edition of the «Animal farm» I would have doubtlessly given it to Hugh as a souvenir from Ukraine.
Hearing the news from the girl I remained calm. I didn’t know what to ask her. She gave me the headline of the terrible news-piece, but couldn’t provide with any details…
She was a nice and very polite girl, so we talked nonsense for a while.
«I hope Hugh was happy his last years»… I said to her, knowing he had lung cancer.
And the girl answered: «I’m sure he was». And she said this, without even knowing him…
I write this brief note in English, because I keep talking to Hugh… And of course we’re speaking English.
I haven’t written a news-piece in English for some years. My tongue has become rusty, but he would always say: «forget about it. Write a story, find good emotional quotes… Look, it would be great this way…»
Thank you, Hugh, for being the best editor I ever had…
There’s one more reason for me to write this note… I have a belief that when a reporter dies, his soul travels to all the news-rooms and agencies bureau’s and news-paper’s smoking-rooms and all the places he used to work, and also to the pubs where he used to drink, and to the pubs, and the news-rooms of his friends… And there his soul collects the purest emotions and memories about him. It lives on them, floats on them… and helps the other guys to write better stories, not to forget about checking the info and polishing the style…
I think, that’s how every reporter’s soul does… without ever «passing away».
