Geraldine "Gerry" Hostetler

For years, people in this town were dying to have Gerry Hostetler write about them.

She was chief obituary writer for the Observer, a job she savored. People who think I write about death are wrong, she'd say. I write about life. Her obits celebrating the lives of readers were so popular that editors decided to run them as columns under a title embracing Hostetler's philosophy: "It's a Matter of Life ..."

Her style was to capture her subjects' personality in the first paragraph, then provide the mortal box score in the second. She wouldn't approve of this one, written by an amateur, which doesn't get to the point until the fourth.

Geraldine Shinn Hostetler was born in Concord on July 7, 1935 and at age 3 moved to Charlotte, where she spent her life except for two years in Memphis. Her career was spent in the publishing industry, starting at Virginia Paper Co. in 1953 at $38 a week. In 1978, she took a job at The Observer. Increasingly troubled by emphysema, she retired in 2008 but continued writing her column freelance until her death Sunday at Presbyterian Hospital, where she was taken Friday, after suffering a stroke. She was 76.

"Gerry took seriously every call she answered," said Rick Thames, the Observer's editor. "She presumed that every person potentially had something important to say. And she listened closely until she understood what that was. That same gift made her a very special obituary writer. Gerry knew that every life was worth others knowing about. And so, she listened to relatives and friends until she discovered that special something to share with our readers."

To strangers, Hostetler had the classic countenance of a fine Southern matron. To friends, she was the source of the best dirty jokes in the newsroom.

One of her duties was that of receptionist. "Observer newsroom, Hostetler" was the lyrical greeting people got. It was marinated in Southern syrup and tended to blunt the irritation of readers who call their newspaper to point out its sins. Hostetler would listen patiently to their complaints and apologize from the heart when she ruled for the plaintiff.

No one got blown off by Hostetler, not even the kooks. On the evening of Dec. 3, 1984, as the tempo of obits being phoned in by undertakers increased as deadline drew near, Hostetler answered a call from a woman with a sharp New York accent. She claimed to have first-hand knowledge of shenanigans at the PTL Club religious television network in Fort Mill.

Hostetler drew her out. She named names and places, but wouldn't identify herself. Hostetler made the woman promise she'd call back during the day, then wrote a detailed memo about the encounter to the editor in charge of The Observer's PTL investigation. "She sounded more like an axe-grinder than a looney, by the way," Hostetler wrote.

Jessica Hahn, the church secretary who would accuse PTL president Jim Bakker of seducing her years before and would later take a secret payment by PTL designed to silence her, kept her word to Hostetler and called back. "Gerry deserves credit for not only taking that call, but recognizing it as important," said Charles Shepard, the lead reporter on the Observer's PTL coverage, which won the 1988 Pulitzer Prize for Public Service.

She chose her own subjects for her obituaries. She favored the working class. She believed there was a good tale behind nearly everyone and found extraordinary stories in ordinary people. In 2008, she won the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Society of Professional Obituary Writers.

Hostetler lived on the Catawba River across the road from her daughter, Jeri Wofford. Each July, her daughter would host a birthday party for Hostetler beside the river. One year, when the band took a break, a wedding broke out. Hostetler came out of the house in a gown, and she and longtime boyfriend John Mauney took the vows before astonished guests.

Newspapers often prepare obituaries in advance for prominent people. Hostetler, no amateur, left one at the office when she retired. It was her own.