The Newtown Bee learned last week of the death of Curtiss Clark, who served as Editor of this newspaper from 2007 until his retirement in 2016. The nine years he served as our Editor — the first person outside the Smith family to do so since the Smiths purchased this newspaper in 1881 — were the finale of a journalism career that spanned 43 years. The news came by way of a phone call from his niece, who had to tell us that someone we love and admire is gone. Curt is no longer out of the office and out of the state, happily retired in northern New England. This time he is gone for good.

Curtiss was a brilliant man. His writing skills were surpassed only by his diplomacy and the ability to diffuse situations well before they boiled over. He craved peace, and doled wit and wisdom every day. His writing was thoughtful, even when it ruffled feathers. It earned awards for good reason, and he was installed in the New England Newspaper & Press Association Hall of Fame for even better reasons.

Like so many who still work for Bee Publishing Company today, Curtiss engaged himself in virtually every area of company operations. He entered the office at 5 Church Hill Road in 1973, fresh from college with an English degree. He was hired as a reporter-photographer, yet he also stepped in over the years when help was needed in the mailroom, production room or darkroom. His foresight led to the creation in March 1997 of the website for this newspaper. The Bee was the first newspaper in the state to present constantly updated news and information to its readers on the internet.

Curtiss was more than that, however. He had a witty, dry humor that never ceased to stop some in their tracks regardless of how long they knew him. He was a skilled guitar player. He kept one of his favorites hanging in his office, where it was picked up many Thursday afternoons after that week’s print edition had been successfully put to bed. A gentle strum or two would unofficially mark the end of another news cycle. Nothing specific, mind you. Just a few chords seemed to calm his mind and ease the stress for just a moment, despite the fact we were already ankle-deep in the next cycle. It felt like we were being guided between songs by James Taylor.

In the paraphrased words of Saint Francis de Sales (“Nothing is as strong as gentleness; nothing is as gentle as real strength”), Curt’s was an effective yet quiet leadership. It was a rare day when he raised his voice toward anyone at the office, be it a reporter or lower editor, fellow Bee employee or an unexpected visitor who showed up demanding attention. Even the latter was generally received politely, and truly listened to. Curtiss understood the need for people to be heard when they were angry. He led and taught his staff by those examples.

He served to inspire us during and well after his tenure at 5 Church Hill Road. As many of us will do upon hearing about the death of someone, Curt’s name was put into the archives search last Thursday morning. We were reminded not only of the date of his retirement and some of the compliments from his employer, co-workers, admirers and friends, we saw once more his talent for beautiful phrasing. Curt could write poetically about finding a dead cardinal on the doorstep of our office one Monday morning in July 2007, and its funeral, “a quick odd ceremony involving a snow shovel and a newspaper publisher in a bow tie.” That same week he referred to this town’s traffic challenges as “a hydra-headed affair.” He pulled these spectacular phrases out of his mind the way some of us grab a snack from a cabinet — often without much thought or challenge. He did not struggle the way many of us do with this craft we call writing. He excelled at it, with grace and seeming ease.

Curtiss not only served this community with his words and images, he literally served it. For years, Curtiss drove hot meals to shut-ins for Newtown Meals on Wheels. The first Friday of the month, he’d be out a little longer on his lunch break because he’d make the drive to 139 Toddy Hill Road to pick up and then deliver any number of meals, following an ever-changing circuitous route around town before taking time for himself.

It was amusing — in the macabre sense, of course; not standard humor — to read the obituary Curtiss’s family provided to us. They shared some of the same things about him that immediately came to mind upon hearing the news last week: extraordinary writer, razor-sharp wit, kind human, dog enthusiast.

For decades, the office of The Newtown Bee has hosted employees of all ages and backgrounds. We share our workspace with the current generation of dogs owned by various members of the Smith family. The animals are as much a part of our workspace as the antiques and folk art we work among. When one of those dogs dies, they too have a heartfelt obituary appear in our pages, often under the title “Farewell To A Friend.” We say farewell this week to our friend and mentor, former colleague and Editor. As much as he would hate to have his obituary appear in print and online, we know he’d further loathe the idea of this week’s Editorial Ink Drops being dedicated to him and his memory. As we have reminded ourselves this week, however, memorials are not only for those who have died. They are also for those who are left behind. Farewell, friend.