Remembering Harold Hyman’s generosity
Las Vegas Sun police reporter Harold Hyman was remembered for his skill, his hard work and his stomach of steel in today’s obituary by A.D. Hopkins.
But he was also a generous man who was kind enough to help a competitor — me.
When I was hired in 1976 as the Review-Journal’s weekend police reporter/night reporter, he saved me on my first weekend alone on the job.
The two of us were chasing a drug raid story in a biker bar and I needed to tell my bosses the story was coming and where I was. I called in, got the main phone line and realized I didn’t have the back line directly into the newsroom and couldn’t tell them to save me some space.
Panicked, unsure and uneasy, surrounded by angry bikers, I felt incompetent. But Harold both gave me a sense of protection — and the newsroom number. He didn’t have to do either; he could have let me flounder, because the competition between the Sun and the R-J was fierce, then as now.
Another act of kindness I remember well is Harold telling me the police were going to do a drug bust at the Peppermill Lounge on a Saturday afternoon, and if we went and planted ourselves there, we’d both get color for our stories. It helped my story (but his was still better than the rookie’s).
I’ve always remembered those acts of kindness and always had a soft spot for Harold, even when he beat me in story after story.
And when I beat him, I was so proud, because I had scooped one of the best police reporters, whose reputation as a tough guy covered his compassion for a rookie.