Menu
Search by Name
Search by Name
Add a Memory
Make a Donation
William Woo Obituary
By Tim O'Neil
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
04/12/2006
William F. Woo, a scholarly, soft-spoken journalist and columnist who guided the Post-Dispatch as its editor for 10 years, died Wednesday (April 12, 2006) of cancer at his home in Palo Alto, Calif. He was 69.
Mr. Woo had been a professor of journalism at Stanford University since he retired from the Post-Dispatch in 1996 and more recently also was director of the university's journalism graduate program. He was diagnosed with colorectal cancer in January 2005 and underwent treatment. He taught classes until only a few weeks ago.
Named editor in 1986 by Joseph Pulitzer Jr., Mr. Woo was the first editor of the Post-Dispatch who was not a member of the Pulitzer family. Mr. Pulitzer died in 1993.
In conversations with his staff members, Mr. Woo spoke often of the Pulitzer Platform, which runs daily atop the editorial page, as the inspiration and guiding philosophy of the newspaper.
Mr. Woo was born in Shanghai in 1936. His father, a native of China and a newspaper editor in Shanghai, had met his mother, a native of Kansas City, at the University of Missouri at Columbia. After World War II, his parents divorced, and Mr. Woo moved to Kansas City with his mother.
Both parents are deceased. In the regular Sunday column that Mr. Woo wrote during his years as editor, he often described memories of his parents as well as ordinary events in the lives of his own three sons. A former feature writer, he often wrote in moving, eloquent phrases. He ran his column under the heading, "A Reflection."
He wrote about Christmas, books, the family home in Webster Groves, his own youth in wartime China and Halloween vandalism, as well as about politicians and issues.
"I wanted to look at the issues before America, but in a way that grew not out of what sources were saying or inside stuff but out of the experience of a life, which after all is the way that everyone ultimately looks at public matters," he wrote in a farewell column published July 7, 1996.
Three times, Mr. Woo was a finalist for a Pulitzer Prize - in 1971 for national reporting, in 1977 for foreign reporting and in 1991 for commentary, all while at the Post-Dispatch.
Emily Rauh Pulitzer, widow of Joseph Pulitzer Jr., called Mr. Woo "a great person and a great journalist. He and my husband had a close relationship that came about through years of discussion about the editorial page and a shared vision of what the Post-Dispatch should be."
After her husband's death, she said, Mr. Woo took care to involve her in the newspaper. "He took my education very seriously," she said.
Terrance C.Z. Egger, publisher of the Post-Dispatch, called Mr. Woo "a true gentleman who really loved the Post-Dispatch and was a dedicated editor and beautiful writer who often shared his thoughts about community, life and, especially, his family. This is a sad day for our industry and the Post-Dispatch."
Harper Barnes, a former features editor at the newspaper, had known Mr. Woo since before they were roommates at the University of Kansas during the late 1950s. They remained friends through the years, sharing interest in music, sports cars and fishing the Meramec River.
He said Mr. Woo "loved jazz, the blues and rock 'n' roll. And he loved Mozart."
"He had so much enthusiasm," Barnes said. "His father had taken a stand against the Japanese in the early days of (World War II), and Bill was inspired by that. He wanted the Post to be a great newspaper."
Mr. Woo attended high school in Kansas City and began working as a copy clerk for the Kansas City Star in 1956, while he was a college student. He became a reporter in 1957 and worked there until 1962, when he joined the Post-Dispatch as a feature writer for its Everyday Magazine. His writing soon caught the eye of Joseph Pulitzer Jr.
He attended Harvard University in 1966-1967 as a Nieman Fellow, an advanced journalism program, and moved to the Post-Dispatch's editorial page when he returned to St. Louis. He was editorial page editor for 13 years before being promoted to editor.
Colleagues spoke of Mr. Woo as an editor who led with his intellect. Former feature writer Robert Duffy called him "my inspiration. He was a real scholar, a gentleman. He was a philosopher-king. He believed in the Pulitzer Platform like religious creed."
Margaret Freivogel, a former Washington reporter and editor, said most staff members knew him as polite and soft-spoken. "The longer you knew him, the more you realized that the calm exterior contained a fierce interior - fiercely devoted to the principles of good journalism, fiercely committed to his family, fiercely determined to live life to its fullest. He ran marathons, cheered for his sons at Marshall Field (in Valley Park) and loved to float the Meramec."
Married twice before, Mr. Woo married Martha Shirk, then a reporter at the Post-Dispatch, in 1981. She writes books from their home in Palo Alto.
In addition to his wife, among survivors are their three sons, Thomas Woo of Santa Monica, Calif., Bennett Woo, a junior at St. Louis University, and Peter Woo of Palo Alto; three brothers, Robert C. Woo of St. Louis, and John Woo and Willie Woo of New York; and two sisters, Wendy Woo of San Mateo, Calif., and Elizabeth Li of Hong Kong.
Funeral arrangements are pending.
Memories and Condolences
for William Woo
84 Entries
Julie Sachse
December 20, 2009
Today, my husband and I returned to Stanford with our two small children. You would have loved seeing them, Professor Woo, and nothing would have given me greater joy than introducing them to you. You were instrumental in getting me into the program at Stanford and in introducing me to my future husband, to guiding me through so many ups and downs and in encouraging me to become first wife and then mother. I miss you and today so wished I could knock on your office door and have you meet my little people. To Martha and your boys, I hope you are well. Merry Christmas. I miss you.
Jennifer Klein
November 24, 2008
Ten years after I leaving his tutelage, I still turn to his words of wisdom in editing and writing. I always will treasure his succint compliments and unassuming, steady demeanor. A year and half after his passing, I find myself wanting to drop him a line to see what new project he's involved in. He continues to be an inspiration not just to me, but I don't doubt the countless others that were lucky enough to pass under his shadow.
Eric Gavidia
June 11, 2007
Professor Woo was one of the most memorable and gentle of Stanford professors I ever met. His demeanor made learning enjoyable and his intellect and passion were head and shoulders above the rest. He knew the business and academia of journalism but never forgot the heart in human nature. I was deeply saddened learning of his passing. His legacy lives on in the hearts of all of us who had the honor to call him teacher.
Martha Shirk
April 12, 2007
Today, on the first anniversary of Bill's death, I re-read every one of the reminiscences in this guest book and was again deeply touched by the reminders of his influence on so many lives. He was a very special person.
Those of you who miss his writing will be happy to learn that the University of Missouri Press will publish a collection of his letters to students in the summer of 2007. The collection was edited by his old Nieman buddy, Phil Meyers, a professor of journalism at the University of North Carolina, with a foreword from his old friend from Kansas City, Jimmy Steele. It will be called "Letters from the Editor: Lessons on Journalism and Life." In addition, another collection of his writings and speeches will be published this summer in Chinese by the Fudan University Press.
Vanessa de la Torre
April 12, 2007
I still think of Professor Woo constantly.
li ka chung edward
August 6, 2006
a great person not just in journalism education, but in the media industry. i am a young journalist, and had got a chance to talk with bill in hk, while the accreditation posses was held in chu hai college in 2003. you will be named in my mind forever.
shiko Adel
June 12, 2006
Hiiiii
Marion & Harry Lewenstein
May 23, 2006
What a gift it was to have shared work and time with Bill. We're both going to miss him.
Marion & Harry Lewenstein
Harper Barnes
May 15, 2006
Bill Woo loved to fish, and Bill and I once shared a fishing cabin high above the Meramec River in the Missouri Ozarks. So naturally when I heard Bill had died, I went fishing. “That’s what Bill would want me to do,” I thought. In part, I was serious -- that probably is what Bill would have wanted me to do. But in part I was making fun of myself and the cliché in a way that I thought Bill would appreciate.
Years ago, when I was in the midst of a midlife crisis, Bill gave me a present. It was a recording of Haydn’s “Mass in the Time of War.” Bill said he hoped it would provide solace in my troubles. It was a very sweet gesture, and I loved the mass, but I have always wondered if there was not a second ironic message, buried in the title. After all, what I was going through was a very sad divorce, not the Napoleonic Wars.
Bill Woo was a very complex man. He was deceptively soft spoken and sometimes even non-committal, and you often had to take the time to bridge the gap between what he said and what he meant. Sometimes you had to read Bill like a poem.
After Bill had been the editor of the Post-Dispatch for a while, some people at the paper complained that they couldn’t always tell what he wanted from what he had said. Sometimes he seemed to be speaking Chinese. When confronted with that, Bill smiled – enigmatically, of course – and said he would try to speak more clearly in the future. At the same time, he suggested, it might be a good idea for the staff to learn a little Chinese.
But there was no deeper hidden meaning in the three things Bill Woo stood for, in my mind. They were passion, elegance and integrity, characteristics embodied in the things he loved, like Mozart, and Lester Young, and he platform of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, and in the poems that we loved as young men. It was not until later that I realized I needed to add a fourth adjective to that list – courage.
.
Bill and I met in the mid-1950s when we were in college at the University of Kansas. We roomed together for a time, along with two other young men, and with his help I got a job at the Post-Dispatch. We remained friends for the rest of his life. But after he and Martha had three boys, by necessity home and family took up much of his time, home and family and running a major metropolitan daily. I didn’t see Bill as much as I would have liked – and, I hope, as he would have liked – in the last years, even before he moved to California. But when I did see him, as I did a few years ago when our beloved University of Kansas basketball team played in the NCAA tournament in St. Louis, the moments were precious. Blessedly, we were joined by his oldest son, Tom.
After Bill died, and I had gone fishing, I re-read some of his columns, columns that so many in St. Louis, like my octogenarian mother in law, loved as if they had been written by one of their own children, or were about one of their own children. And I came across one that particularly struck me and I thought I would share some of it with you today.
After a minor flood at his home in Webster Groves, Bill was forced to get rid of piles of damaged books. Going through them he thought about what they meant to him. He wrote:
“Untouched books that you have stored away, intending to get back to some day but not managing it, are like friends you keep saying you will call for lunch but never do. And in some cases, the effect upon those relationships is as harmful as dampness upon books.
“It was with a dark sense of betrayal, of books and friends, that I began the work of throwing away. Hemingway, Faulkner, J.D. Salinger, Shakespeare, Shaw, Plato, Lincoln Steffens, Sean O'Casey, John D. MacDonald, Walt Kelly. . . . The task seemed endless. Each volume prompted a memory of its own.
“I found myself browsing. With some books, the recollections were so sharp that I could not bear to let them be hauled off with the trash. Saving them had nothing to do with literary significance. It had to do only with memories and the long road behind me.
“e.e. cummings was kept in remembrance of the house I lived in at college, with three other young men who listened to Lester Young and Mozart late at night, developed a taste for foreign beers and quoted preciously from Eliot and cummings. ‘you should above all things be glad and young.’ How long ago that was.
Bill, it seems like yesterday.
bj mcconnell
May 13, 2006
Oh Martha!
We just returned from our new city(?) Birmingham AL and found out about Bill's passing. You and he were my "oasis" of liberalism in Webster Groves.. His kind, gentle and deep manner will not ever be forgotten. You and the boys--please feel our arms around you--a group HUG from St. Louis... if I could I would find you for one of our super super walks... love, bj and craig mcconnell
Gene Hutchinw
May 12, 2006
I had read Bill's work for many years before I actualy met him at
Eliot Chapel in Kirkwood, MO. Generally I disagreed with his views. After meeting him and talking with him I found him to be a sincere and thoughtful person, and idealistic. He had a view that was skeptical of tradtional focus about issues, but nevertheless was honest and uniquely Bill Woo
Skyler Harmann
May 12, 2006
My memories of Bill are as a loving and involved father. I had the pleasure of teaching his son Tom in elementary school. Even though that was a very busy time for Bill and Martha, it was always obvious that their children came first. I still have the article he wrote and gave me about the art of playing chess, as I was mentoring the chess club at the time. I am thankful for the short period of time that I interacted with he and his family. Sincere condolances to the Shirk/Woo family.
Tom Rogers
May 9, 2006
I thought Bill's reflection, "The Last Slow Dance of the Oval White Men," was the best newspaper column ever written until he set me straight. HIS favorite, "Memories Measured by Their Book Value," framed and autographed, hangs above my desk to this day, treasured all the more after his loss. My wife joins me in sending condolences to our dear former neighbors whom we hope to see soon.
MARY BIRNEY SNOOKS
May 4, 2006
i WAS JUST STUNNED TODAY TO GET AN E-MAIL FROM RICH BALLARD TELLING OF BILL'S DEATH. IT SEEMS UNBELIEVABLE. HAVING LOST MY HUSBAND TO CANCER 11 YEARS AGO MY HEART GOES OUT TO ALL THE FAMILY. I KNEW BILL IN HIGH SCHOOL, SOUTHWEST AND AT KANSAS UNIVERSITY. I HAD THE BIGGEST CRUSH ON HIM. OF COURSE HE "LOVED" SOMEONE ELSE BUT WE WERE ALWAYS GOOD FRIENDS. HE WAS A WONDERFUL DANCER AND HIS FAVORITE SONG WAS "SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY" I WONDER IF IT STILL WAS. I LOCATED HIM IN CA ABOUT 10 YEARS AGO AND WE HAD A GREAT PHONE CONVERSATION. HE HAS ALWAYS HAD A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART. GOD BLESS ALL HIS FAMILY
Geneva Overholser
May 2, 2006
Bill Woo was a lovely man and a fine journalist, and all of us lucky enough to have spent time with him will miss him terribly.
Edmund Fording
April 27, 2006
Bill Woo was a good friend in grade school and high school. Sadly, we lost contact after graduating in 1954, but met again at the class reunion in 2004. Bill told me of his interviews with my former boss at Monsanto and how that CEO was able to extract such high performance from his employees. Bill's speech after dinner at the reunion was very meaningful to me. I felt then as I do even more now that it was an honor to know Bill. He touched the lives of many people and will be missed all who knew or were educated by him.
Larry Kamberg
April 26, 2006
Bill, was a High School friend. Bill and several other boys from school had a lot of fun together at school and after school. His ethnic background made no difference in our lives as teenagers and friends. I never figured out how he beat me drag racing on the street behind the high school. He drove a 52 chevy with power glide and I a 52 ford with stick shift. I still remember him laughing at me at the end of the block.
Bill is a tribute to our generation, he will be missed by all who knew him.
Martha Shirk
April 25, 2006
Dear Friends,
The boys and I treasure your remembrances of Bill and your expressions of support.
Plans are in the works to publish some of Bill's writings, as many of you have urged. We will keep this Guest Book online for a year and post further information.
I'm patching in details about the two memorial services we've planned. (Since he wanted no fuss made, he would be appalled by all the hoopla. But I spent our whole marriage contradicting him, so why stop now?)
Memorial services will be held at:
• 7:30 p.m. Friday, May 12, at Graham Chapel, on the campus of Washington University in St. Louis. A reception will follow in the lounge of the Women's Building nearby.
• 11 a.m., Friday, May 19, at Stanford Memorial Church, on the campus of Stanford University. A reception will follow in the Faculty Club.
In response to the many people who have inquired, the family offers the following suggestions for memorial contributions in Bill’s name:
• The William F. Woo Memorial Journalism Education Fund has been established to support the training of journalists in China in the principles of Western journalism. .Bill’s late father, Woo Kyatang (aka K.T. Woo) was an editor in Shanghai before and during World War II and later served as the editor of the Tiger Standard in Hong Kong. In 1997, Bill and I served as Knight International Press Fellows in Hong Kong, monitoring the effect on the press of the handover to China and laying the groundwork for programs to further the professional development of journalists in China. Since then, Bill visited China many times to conduct journalism workshops and lecture on free press issues.
The fund will be administered by the Journalism and Media Studies Centre at the University of Hong Kong, where Bill had been a visiting professor since 1999.
“Bill was the first professor to visit to help us design programs and teach,” said Ying Chan, director of the center. “At that time, we had only two rooms and had to scramble to find a third room for him to teach in. With his love and wise counsel, we now have grown to become one of the premier journalism programs in Asia. As the only place in China with a free press, Hong Kong is an appropriate place to host the fund. ”
Checks should be made payable to Friends of the University of Hong Kong, a U.S.-based 501(c)(3) organization, in care of Monica Yeung, executive director, 1321 Sydney Drive, Sunnyvale, CA 94087 (phone 408-823-9838 or e-mail: [email protected] ) Designate the William F. Woo Memorial Journalism Education Fund in the memo field.
• The family also welcomes contributions to further research into treatment of colorectal cancer. Bill received humane and life-extending care from Dr. George Fisher and Margreet Love and their colleagues at the Stanford Cancer Center. Donations may be made to Stanford University for the George Fisher GI Research Fund, 875 Blake Wilbur Drive, Stanford, CA 94305.
• The Asian-American Journalists Association, which presented Bill with a Lifetime Achievement Award in 1990, plans to establish a William F. Woo Internship Grant to support print and web interns while they practice daily journalism and gain career-building experience. Donations made before June 1, 2006 will be matched by foundation grants. For more information, go to http://www.aaja.org/donate/challeng
e_fund/index.html. Or send a check payable to the AAJA 25th Anniversary Endowment, to AAJA, 1182 Market Street, Suite 320, San Francisco, CA 94102. Designate the William F. Woo Internship Grant in the memo field.
Again, we send thanks for your support and kind words from the bottom of our hearts, which, as you might imagine, are aching.
l Bluford
April 25, 2006
To the family of Williams Woo, I just wanted to send and express my condolences to the family. I am so sorry to hear of your loss. A comforting thought is found a 2Cor 1:3,4 in part says that the father of tender mercies and the god of comfort,comforts us in our tribulations. My heart goes out to you and the family.
Micah Pueschel
April 24, 2006
I am a friend and classmate of Bill's son Tom. I could always see the admiration that Tom felt for his father any time he spoke of him. When I finally met Bill I understood why. He was a man that genuinely cared about what you said and made you feel comfortable despite his obvious wisdom. My senior year, the Woo's were kind enough to let me stay at their home during Thanksgiving. They were a truly loving, thoughtful and humorous family with nothing but generosity to give. Those are the traits that will always define my fond memories of Bill Woo. All of my best to you Martha, Tom, Bennett and Peter.
Joe Ann Kratchman
April 24, 2006
I grew up in Kansas City, down the street and around the corner, from "Billy" Woo. We went to grade school, Border Star, and high school (Southwest) together. Over the years, I lost track of him but he reentered my life through his writings in Reflections in the St. Louis Post Dispatch. And then came another reentry, when it was time for our 50th high school reunion. It was suggested that Bill be asked to speak; he hesitated, but his kids persuaded him to accept. And for this, a classful or several hundred people and their spouses/dates will be eternally grateful. He based his talk on our high school experiences, how it had made him who he was in many ways. Prior to speaking, we talked on the phone numerous times and e-mailed while he was writing the talk, with "now, who was that teacher, what was her name?" types of queries. I would call him Billy, apologize for the diminutive, and he would tell me that I was entitled to the use of his boyhood name. The speech was based on the book "Generations", placing our class accurately on that scale. At the end of the talk, he asked us to stand and toast all of us, those who were there and those who were not. We toasted our success - and his. There was not a dry eye in the place. None of us will ever forget this moment - a lot of nostalgia, a lot of pride, and a whole lot of Billy Woo.
Dennis Gilbert
April 24, 2006
I believe strongly that I would not be the person I am today if not for William Woo. For years, I looked forward to reading his work on the pages of the St.Louis Post-Dispatch, because he had a way of inspiring people by the sheer force of his integrity, compassion, and his humanity. The stories that he told over the years about his boys were a guiding light to me as I raised my own two boys. I was saddened when he left St.Louis, for I felt as if St.Louis had lost a voice sorely needed in my area. When I read of his passing, I felt a personal loss, and I want to send my condolences to Martha and his children. You can take solace in reading how many people admired and respected him for his ability to touch peoples hearts, and to inspire so many to make the effort to change the world. I will always remember him as one of the touchstones of my life. Heaven is a bit brighter at his arrival. Rest in peace, my friend.
A. Hawthorne
April 22, 2006
“Blessed be . . . the Father of tender mercies and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation.”—2 Corinthians 1:3, 4.
I am truly sorry for your lost, but in your time of grief it's comforting to know God is there for you and that He has a purpose for mankind to be resurrected to life in Paradise on earth. My heart goes out to you at this time and in the days ahead.
Herbert Atienza
April 21, 2006
Hi Martha, Our thoughts and prayers are with you and the kids in your time of loss. We hope you are doing well. E-mail me if you get the chance ([email protected]).
Doris Lippitt
April 20, 2006
The first time I met William Woo, it was 1997 and he was standing in the Old Pro in Palo Alto watching Kansas Basketball. You see, William was a big fan of KU basketball and a sports fan in general.
He was wearing a "worn" KU sweatshirt. From that point on, every season we would get together and watch KU basketball. If the game was close, at the 5 minute mark, we had to have a budweiser. This usually helped the Jayhawks win.
As the years passed, we would get together outside of the basketball season and became friends. The wonderful memories just flood my mind.
Yesterday, Tom Woo stopped by my house and gave me that old sweatshirt. What a gift. I will wear it next season and continue with the 5 minute beer, and yes it will be a budweiser.
It is a priviledge to have known William and to call him my friend.
Martha, Tom, Bennett and Peter, my thoughts and prayers are with you, God Bless you.
Alexandra Moller
April 20, 2006
This is a letter Bill wrote to our journalism class in 2000...I wanted to share it.
Some years ago, people coined a phrase for the Midwest. They called it the Great American Flyover. It was the place you flew over but never thought about as you jetted from coast to coast.
On Wednesday, I thought of the non-election stories in the newspapers as the Great American read-over. If you read the papers, you probably didn’t look at anything but the election. The other pieces you flew over, as you went from presidential dogfight to the congressional races to the stories about the media messing it up again.
And yet, there was an article in the New York Times Wednesday that I saw and cared about. It was only four inches long, stuck at the bottom of pave 21A. The headline said “Donald D. Jones Journalist, 73.” It was my friend Casey’s obituary. It was dry, uninformative and gave no sense whatsoever of the man behind the name. I suppose that on any day his obituary would have been part of the great “read-over,” but the Times had recognized Casey’s life and I was glad of it. He was more than my friend, he was my mentor.
As I’ve told you, Jones had a cameo role in the story about the excruciating way Ray Lyle put me through the paces the night I wrote my first page one price for the Kansas City Times – the night I miserably confessed that I didn’t know what a lede was. I don’t talk as much about Jones as I do Lyle, possibly because he did not have the dramatic, life-changing effect on me that Lyle did.
Lyle was a figure from the Old Testament: Angry, thundering – a smoldering prophet who struck fear and laid down the great law for his reporters: Just write what happened. Lyle’s asceticism drove him to scorn anything that was assumed instead of verified, to focus single-mindedly on fact and accuracy, to hold in disdain a reporter’s vain desire for bylines.
Jones was subtler and more complicated but no less determined. Lyle’s tools were the ax and the lightening bolt; Jones worked with a scalpel and micrometer. Homework from Lyle consisted of reading the Kansas City Star stylebook. Casey’s assignments went to Henry Watson Fowler, whose “dictionary of Modern English Usage” he gave me on Feb. 10, 1958, the day I was liberated from obituaries, and which now is always at hand as I write.
I suspect Lyle read nothing but the newspaper. Casey, of course, read the newspaper (including every classified ad), but he also read the entire works of Henry James – several times. On Sunday mornings, when he ran the city desk and I was his early reporter, we would skip out to hear church choirs if we knew they were doing Handel. (Once we set the words of the Star stylebook to the music of one of the oratorios: “Use short sentences. Use short first paragraphs…”). On his deathbed, he talked about Mozart’s great C major piano concerto. He collected Native American art – and one day soon the Metropolitan will take possession of a stunning red Northwest Coast coat that could knock your eyes out. How he became a journalist, I’ll never know.
But what a journalist he was, and in his way he was as driven as Ray Lyle. Whereas Lyle saw error as odious and an escapable fact of life, Jones regarded error as a failure of character, as evidence of the willful neglect of fundamental conduct and the triumph of original sin over professional chastity.
At night, after deadline, he would conduct an unnerving spot check. He would select at random some hapless reporter’s story and re-verify every single fact in it – while the reporter watched. You would have liked root canal better.
Lyle was scripture, but Jones brought scripture alive and taught you how to put it into your life – in the way you chose the right word, in the way you constructed a sentence. He edited with a broad-tipped fountain pen, filled with blue ink, and with a stroke here and a word here, he made every story you wrote better.
Not everyone appreciated him. He became the Star’s first ombudsman, but unlike people who hold that job at other papers, Jones refused to write a column. Instead, he produced a daily “Casey-gram,” a trenchant memorandum that dissected every error that was in the paper. Reporters and editors, by nature among the most defensive of human beings, respected Casey-grams, but they were on every bulletin board in the paper by 5 p.m. and people crowded up to read them.
When he died, the Star’s obituary described Jones “as a journalist with a passion for accuracy, simplicity, and the strict use of language.” If this doesn’t sound familiar to you, I haven’t been doing my job right.
He was a great friend but, as I said, he was also my mentor. When I decided to tell Joseph Pulitzer he ought to make me his editor, Jones and I holed up in a motel and wrote out the charter that later defined the rights and responsibilities of the job. Long after I became the editor of the Post-Dispatch, I would call him – to get advice, to check my intuitions, to lay out for his approval some trifling achievement.
You hear a lot about mentoring these days. It is said to be a cure-all for isolation in the newsroom. The Asian American Journalists Association has a program in which I’ve participated, whereby editors are paired with young journalists. These usually are long-distance relationships, conducted by phone and e-mail. They do no harm and may even be useful, but they’re not the real thing.
Real mentoring relationships grow out of a shared experience, a shared professional life. They are not like computer-assisted dating. You have to care about the other person, and the mentoring develops gradually and its course is not always smooth, in exactly the same way that the deepest relationships are not always smooth ones. As the etymologist Eric Partridge reminds us, mentor shares a common origin with Eumenides, the Greek furies who pursued their errant victims relentlessly until the goddess Athena domesticated them into kindly spirits. If you develop a good mentoring relationship, prepare to be pursued.
The word itself is derived from the name of the wise old friend into whose care Odysseus entrusted his son when he went off to the Trojan wars. Homer’s Mentor was a wise counselor, and that’s what Jones was to the young journalists in whom he took an interest.
Over the years, I have reflected on immortality, and I conclude not that at best, it probably lasts no more than a generation or two. The lives of parents are expressed in the lives of their children and perhaps their grandchildren, but beyond that about all that usually remains are some photographs or a name on some documents or flyleaves of books. Perhaps now we’ll live on as files in a CD ROM.
Jones never married, never had children, but he has descendants in whose lives he’ll continue to be a presence. Here are a few of them.
There’s Paul Haskins, who like the rest of us came to the Times without a college degree. (Unlike the rest of us, Paul not only never got one, he never finished high school). After Kansas City, Paul got a job on the New York Times. The smart guys there thought he was just a hick, and they smirked one night when he noticed a hole in the story of one of the big shot Washington correspondents. It was late at night, but Paul called the big shot at home, and the smart guys smiled and sat back, waiting for the hick to be eaten alive, after which he’d clear out his desk and slink back to Podunk, his tail between his legs.
But the big shot was grateful not to look a fool in the next day’s paper, and from then on Paul walked on water. He went on to win two publisher’s awards and to direct the Times’ coverage of every big breaking story – the earthquakes and the floods. He’s the one who saw the possibility in the retired cleaning woman in Mississippi who gave her savings to a black college and sent Rick Bragg to interview her.
When Casey died, this is what Paul wrote about him: “He took me in hand and made me a reporter, then an editor. He was my high school, my college and my conscience all rolled into one.”
Jimmy Steele -- James B. Steele in the byline – began like the rest of us as a copy clerk. (Copy boy was the term in those gender-insensitive days). Jones gave him a copy of Fowler, too. Jim went on to win two Pulitzer Prizes for the Philadelphia Inquirer and is simply the finest investigative reporter alive. He now works for Time and was the one who went to Kansas City as Casey lay dying and talked to him about Mozart.
Jim Steele remembered him in the Star’s obituary as an editor. “Sometimes,” Steele said, “he would take a four- or five-paragraph item and, almost like Zorro, go through it, cutting out things. You would think somebody massacred your copy. But when you read it, he had boiled down maybe four paragraphs to two or less and not a thing had been lost.”
I could go on to tell you about some others, but you get the picture. On my bulletin board there’s a note that Casey sent me when things were going to hell in St. Louis. He wanted to make me feel better, but, being my mentor, he knew that what I needed was not just sympathy but to do something for myself. He found his words in those of T.H. White, in the story of King Arthur, “The Once and Future King.” “The best thing for being sad is to learn something…That is the only thing that never fails…You may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins. You may miss your only love, you may see the world about you wasted…or know honor trampled in the sewer of baser minds. There is only one thing then—to learn.”
It was spoken like a teacher. I was not exactly comforted by his note, though I liked the part about the sewer of baser minds, but it pushed me away from what might have been a slide into self pity and got me thinking. It set me to learning, more about myself, more about the world and it was the best note he could have sent me. I hope you have a mentor some day as good as Casey was to those of us who came to him as little more than boys and whom he turned into journalists.
Arieh O'Sullivan
April 20, 2006
I spent two wonderful semesters with Bill Woo as a journalism fellow in 2003; the first as his student, and later as his friend. He was such a great inspiration for me. my fellow fellow Jong Sei Park and I took his class on opinion writing together. His quick wit and gentle soul is something I will never forget. We shared many lunches debating and laughing. later, every time I had to write anything beyond a news story, I’d think of bill and could hear him quip about getting beyond the: “let’s stop this senseless…. “ and cut straight to the core of an issue. He was my favorite professor and I was glad we stayed in touch. I’m not surprised he kept his illness so quiet. He obviously loved what he was doing and didn’t want anything to stop it. What a loss to us all.
Misty Espinoza
April 19, 2006
I have attempted to write an entry in this guest book numerous times over the past two days, but every time I start nothing seems to capture how incredible a person William Woo was and what a tremendous impact he had on me. Even as I type, I can hear his quite and calm voice in the background. He had this wise charisma about him and he never had to raise his voice to get your attention because when he started telling a story, everyone in the room was instantly captivated. I could go on forever about what I loved about him--how I admired him as a journalist, how I was valued his opinion as a professor, but mostly I loved him as a friend, who was not only able to see the potential in those around him, but had the extraordinary ablility to actually inspire us to discover it within ourselves. I will miss "the Wooster" (as he let me nickname him) greatly.
Emily Richmond, Stanford M.A. '97
April 19, 2006
I have been reading and re-reading the heartfelt -- and deserved -- tributes to Bill Woo on these pages. What amazes me isn't that so many of us considered Bill a friend and mentor but rather that he found the time to ensure each of us felt that way.
Bill Woo was the personification of integrity. My deepest condolences to Martha, Tom, Bennett and Peter. He always spoke of each of you with such pride and love.
Chris Berdik
April 19, 2006
I learned a tremendous amount from Bill, about how to be a journalist and about how much a teacher can invest himself in the development and dreams of his students. There was never any question that Bill not only wanted all of his students to succeed, but that he cared deeply about us, and offered himself to us as a constant source of wisdom.
He was a good friend. I'll miss him very much and offer my prayers and condolences to his family.
Amanda Shirk
April 18, 2006
Bill may not know, but he was a hero of mine.
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a writer. My heros were ordinary people with extraordinary character - people like my parents. I admired two accomplished journalists in particular, my aunt Martha and my uncle Bill.
When I was visiting colleges, Bill invited me to join him for the day at Stanford. I had the pleasure to sit in his classroom and listen to his lesson. I was 16, and Bill encouraged me to join the discussion with the other students (as if I knew what I was talking about!). I was so honored by this simple gesture of his.
I didn't pursue journalism further than my high school paper, but I never stopped looking up to Bill. I will always admire his wisdom, humility, integrity, and kindness.
My parents and I have a tremendous love and respect for Bill. His character is alive in all of our hearts.
Alexandra Moller
April 18, 2006
Prof. Woo was my teacher when I got an M.A. in print journalism at Stanford in 2000-2001.
Prof. Woo told me about his illness a few weeks ago but the news of his death was a shock. I had actually left him a phone message earlier in the week just to say hello. I wish I had reached him during these last few weeks to tell him again how much I appreciated and valued my relationship with him. I know he knew how I felt but I would have liked to tell him again.
After I heard the news, I looked back at some of the letters he wrote to our class in which he shared thoughts and lessons from his experiences.
One of the letters was especially fitting to read just then. Prof. Woo wrote that he had recently seen an article in the New York Times that he cared about. He explained, “it was my friend Casey’s obituary; it was dry, uninformative, and gave no sense whatsoever of the man behind the name…but the Times had recognized Casey’s life and I was glad of it. He was more than my friend he was my mentor.” When I saw the obit about Prof. Woo in the New York Times this week I felt the same way.
In his letter, Prof. Woo commented on mentoring, he wrote that “real mentoring relationships grow out of a shared experience, a shared professional life. They are not like computer-assisted dating. You have to care about the other person, and the mentoring develops gradually and its course is not always smooth, in exactly the same way that the deepest relationships are not always smooth ones. As the etymologist Eric Partridge reminds us, mentor shares a common origin with Eumenides, the Greek furies who pursued their errant victims relentlessly until the goddess Athena domesticated them into kindly spirits. If you develop a good mentoring relationship, prepare to be pursued.”
Prof. Woo had mentors who had made a tremendous difference in his life, they had taught him how to be a journalist. So he knew how important mentoring was and he knew how to do it. He was a mentor to me.
I cliqued with him from day one. I was attracted to his combination of knowledge and humility and to his warmth. I knew he cared about us and was deeply invested in helping us to do well. I respected him. He knew what he was talking about, he had spent decades honing his craft as a reporter and editor and learning from the techniques of others. He had seen the world. Now he was passing it all along to us. My admiration for him made me work harder at writing than I ever had and therefore I produced my best writing. I remember so well when he took me aside during our opinion writing class and told me that I was “getting it,” that was a happy day. The fact that Professor Woo thought highly of my work was a great reassurance.
In that opinion writing class I learned the satisfaction of communicating my opinion confidently and crisply. This week when I looked through some of the stories I wrote for Prof. Woo, I found one of his comments that I think about every time I edit my writing. Prof. Woo wrote, “this story is heavily edited…I want you to know how much “air” there is in your writing. This is a nice column. It could run without a lot of the changes I made. But I want you to bear down ruthlessly, to say exactly what it is you want to say as economically as possible and as efficiently as possible. That is the way to be really good.”
In the years since I graduated we communicated a few times a year. I enjoyed touching base and catching up, telling him about my latest plans. He was one of the first people I wanted to share my achievements with.
Prof. Woo’s letter about Casey also discussed immortality. Casey had not married or had children but Prof. Woo said he had descendants in whose lives he would continue to be a presence. Woo has children, three sons, but he certainly also has many descendants in his students.
At the end of the letter about Casey, Prof. Woo wrote, “on my bulletin board there’s a note that Casey sent me when things were going to hell in St. Louis (where Woo worked at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch). He wanted to make me feel better, but, being my mentor, he knew that what I needed was not just sympathy but to do something for myself. He found his words in those of T.H. White, in the story of King Arthur, “The Once and Future King.” “The best thing for being sad is to learn something…That is the only thing that never fails…You may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins. You may miss your only love, you may see the world about you wasted…or know honor trampled in the sewer of baser minds. There is only one thing then—to learn.”
Prof. Woo explained that the note “was spoken like a teacher.” He wrote, “I was not exactly comforted by his note, though I liked the part about the sewer of baser minds, but it pushed me away from what might have been a slide into self pity and got me thinking. It set me to learning, more about myself, more about the world and it was the best note he could have sent me.”
I’m going to focus now on continuing to learn from the great Prof. Woo. What a privilege it was to have him as a teacher.
Julie Patel
April 18, 2006
At first, Prof. Woo seemed to me a private person. Even while drinking beers at the Alpine Inn, he steered our conversation to journalism and barely talked about his own life, not even his career or his accomplishments.
But the ten of us in Stanford’s Graduate Program in Journalism that year managed to learn about his character in the best way a student can: through his teaching. I remember graded assignments e-mailed back to me with red and blue all over. The intense line editing was followed by long notes explaining the changes. He arranged for copy editing workshops via satellite with Ford Burkhart, a New York Times editor who was passionate about the lesson Prof. Woo had been trying to instill in us all quarter: never get too lazy, too confident or too pressured by the urgency of news to overlook the basics of journalism, including consistent style, clear writing and above all, accuracy.
His enthusiasm for the news Web site we created that year was so infectious that we soon got involved ourselves in trying to build its reputation. We voted to name it The Cardinal Inquirer, created business cards and even got scoops on stories that were edited and posted at odd hours.
We learned about him from the way he treated people. He offered to pay our Web designer – a postdoctoral student – from his own pocket when she wasn’t getting paid on time. It seemed no matter how busy he was, if he sensed one of us needed to talk, he would usher us into his office.
I didn’t grow close to him because I knew stories about his sons; the problems his parents faced as an interracial couple; and the reasons he left the St. Louis Post-Dispatch after more than 30 years. I eventually learned about all those things – after he had already earned my respect through his teaching.
The details of Prof. Woo’s life unfolded through the course of our Public Issues Reporting class. It was the one space where he regularly allowed us a glimpse into his personal life. He’d write a fresh column every week and read it to us at the end of the class. He read softly and deliberately, as if felt each word as he spoke it. The ten of us in the program that year were a restless lot but for a few minutes at the end of each class, he had our undivided attention. It was my favorite part of class and I hung on his every word.
I received the news of his death when my editor asked me to write his obituary. I couldn’t stop crying for 20 minutes. Needless to say, I didn’t do the obit. That was about a week ago and since then, I have been reading columns he wrote and e-mails he sent me, trying to soak up the wisdom he left behind on ink. At the end of our year at Stanford, he told each of us what he’ll remember about us and what makes us special. When it was my turn, he said if he could bottle my energy and sell it, he’d be a millionaire. I would say the same about his grace, compassion and wisdom.
I feel blessed to have known him for nine months. I wish it had been longer.
Geoff Koch
April 17, 2006
I’ll remember much about Bill.
Coffee and a lemon bar sitting outside the library to talk about the Cardinal Inquirer. Admonitions to be on time, write with vigor and remember AP style. Forgetting the latter and leaving careless errors for your editor to clean up was like leaving dirty laundry lying around for your mother to pick up, he said.
Somewhere on my computer I have an article he edited which had one too many of these AP gaffes.
“Dammit!” he wrote in one of the comments.
I ribbed him the next day in class.
“Bill swore at me yesterday, guys.”
“It wasn’t directed at you,” he said, smiling, adding it was more of a general statement of frustration. He had me even there on basic grammar and usage.
I wanted to be a science writer but by the end of his commentary class I was writing all sorts of stuff, including a personal reflection about tossing a baseball back and forth with my grandpa as a kid. For all my science copy, it was this piece about baseball and Grandpa that I read aloud on the last day of class. I remember he said “I hoped you’d read that one.”
I remember a folded up bit of T.S. Eliot he carried in his wallet. At the time I took it as a reminder that you’re never done in the process of piecing together a story. Now there’s a different meaning as I read the words again:
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Thank you, Bill, for lessons in more than journalism. You are missed.
lucy jokiel
April 17, 2006
I had the good fortune to work with editor Weihua Chen at the Shanghai Star in 2001 when William Woo came to the newsroom to talk to the reporters about journalism. We were even more inspired when Woo returned after Sept. 11 to help us put out a special edition - the only front page story in China about the disaster. It was the most exciting time I have ever had in a newsroom, and I would never have dreamed it would happen in Shanghai! I will never forget his enthusiasm for the First Amendment and his sincere interest in teaching us the craft he loved so much. My condolences to his family.
weihua chen
April 17, 2006
I was shocked to hear that Bill has passed away. Bill was one of my best friends. He was my mentor and role model as a journalist. Months ago I was so happy when he told me that the surgery was successful. I thought
he would be coming to Shanghai and finish the book about his father, Woo Jiadong, another legendary journalist.
I enjoyed Bill’s commentary writing class at
Stanford. I didn’t realize until my last days at
Stanford that he sometime came to the class after chemotherapy. He was in good spirit. It demonstrated his strong stamina and love for teaching and students.
All the class enjoyed his talk and his inspiring
weekly letter to us. Many believed he should be voted the Best Teaching Award at Stanford.
After coming back from Stanford as a Knight Fellow 10 months ago, I joined the China Daily editorial writers’ group. I am writing both editorials and opinion pieces for the paper. I feel so thankful for Bill’s class.
In my office, the front page of Shanghai Star
September 11 edition is displayed. It was included by the Newseum in 2001 as the only front page from China.
Bill helped us make a wonderful edition after that disaster. He was stuck in Shanghai then when all the flights to the US were cancelled.
Bill talked to my colleagues several times when he visited Shanghai. They all loved him. He was such an achieved journalist, but he was gentle and so close to us and me, especially. He was like my father.
My daughter Qian Qian very well remembers her conversation with Bill at the University Cafe in Palo Alto in August 2004 when Bill treated us a breakfast.
Qian Qian thought she would see Bill
again when she goes to Stanford in three years time.
Bill said he would be happy to write her a
recommendation letter.
I regret and feel so sorry not being in touch with Bill for the last few months, due to the busy work schedule. This is certainly a bad excuse. I thought he was in good shape after surgery and he would be coming to Shanghai sometime this year.
I believe all the commentary class students will remember the editorial platform Bill and the commentary class agreed, such as speaking truth to power. The platform will inspire us like the Pulitzer Platform inspired Bill.
We are all going to miss Bill. He will live forever in my heart.
Sergey Kuznetsov
April 17, 2006
I met Bill Woo at 2002, when I was a Knight Fellow at Stanford Univ. I got his class on opinion writing and - honestly - I thought I do it just to improve my skills at writing in English (not so good when and now, you see it). I was a ten-years-old experieced succesful Russian journalist and I was sure I know a lot about opinion writing.
However, Bill's class became one of the most important experience of my Knight Fellow year. I suppose, it was because Bill's personality: he was smart, witty and patient. Really, he was natural born teacher.
I learn from him not just some formal rules on opinion writing, but very important things about journalism itself. About ethics and responsibility.
Soviet/Russian experience is so different from American one -- and this is the reason why so many Russians are looking to Americans with perplexity and calling them naive. I write about it just to note how hard is to explain something to the people with another cultural and historical background. However Bill did it. He really changed my mind in many issues including journalist's resposibility and ethics. His story on Iran hostage crisis and his column, deleted by Pultzier at the 70ies, was the most important story about after September Eleven American press I heard at 2001-2002. I often retell it at Russia when we are talking on mass-media and terrorism (a sort of hot issue for the Russians)
Now I'm a cheif of a small Russian Internet company, in particular specialized at Internet writing. A dozen young Russian journalists write for our web-sites. I often remember Bill Woo, and try to read and improve their writing in his style (I suppose in waste - Bill would do it much-much better). A few times at least I told them about Bill -- and if I can call myself Bill's learner, they are his grand-learners, learners of learner.
Bill was a great person, talking and listening him was a real joy. I miss him these years and I'm so sorry I never can said him how much he meant for me as a journalist and as a person.
Carlos Dada
April 16, 2006
Bill was an inspiration not only to those of us who had the chance to attend his classes, but far beyond Stanford and the United States. He was a true believer in the power of education and guidance, and the need of an ethical and serious journalism. I still keep all of the letters he wrote to us, and cherish them as some of the best lessons I ever received about journalism, proofs of the true commitment of a professor that left a mark on everybody that ever entered the classroom where he taught. Thanks, Bill.
Jim Campbell
April 16, 2006
There's a rumor going around that after Bill Woo finished at the St. Louis Post-Despatch, he came to Stanford and began being a teacher.
Not true. He taught me how to play chess in 10th-grade study hall. He taught a few of us how to win at basketball against superior teams. Before we were through with high school, he had taught many of us what words like objectivity, leadership and intellect meant.
With that running head start, it seems be's been teaching ever since. And I'm still learning. Today, I'm learning how to deal with a knife-edged grief I can hardly bear.
Joann Byrd
April 16, 2006
This is a huge loss--to the family he loved, certainly, but also to journalism and journalism education.
I can't think about this smart, elegant and thoughtful man without remembering his devotion to journalism ethics. He and I worked on several ethics projects together, and he was always focused, creative and tenacious. Bill taught journalists to use their innate ethical sense in their work.
Bill Woo made a difference. The only way to accept his passing is to reflect on his rich legacy.
My deepest condolences to the Woo family.
Sarah Hoppe
April 15, 2006
Bill Woo is regarded as a dear friend of my family. He was the best friend of my father since they were freshmen in high school.
Bill Spoke at my father's funeral, his words gave deep honor to my fathers name.
I remember staying in a cabin on the Merimac river with the Woo family. I remember Bill holding his baby son Bennet, or maybe it was Peter, with such love. One night a powerful thunderstorm shook the cabin. I climbed down out of the loft bed and walked to the screened porch and saw Bill standing alone looking out at the river. He noticed my presence, and asked gently if I was well. He invited me to stand with him in silence as we watched the storm. I was 12 years old at the time.
From my experience, Bill clearly saw the potential greatness in everyone. He focused on that potential and trusted the ability and worth of every individual.
My love and condolences to Tom, Bennett, Peter, and Martha. You are in my thoughts.
David Schryver
April 15, 2006
Almost 60 years of friendship, born in the halcyon days of our boyhood.
We were inseparable best friends and brothers, our families melded together through our two remarkable mothers. I am suffused with the memories of those years.
Bill, my unspeakable sadness is borne with the grace, courage and humor of your presence in my heart and mind.
Not goodbye, but fare well on your new journey.
Thanks, Pal, for being my friend.
Well done!
David ('Schroo')
John Hubbell
April 15, 2006
I met Bill on the way back from the Nieman conference a couple of years ago. I was with my friend Leslie, and we were all headed to the airport. Bill noticed us and insisted we pile into his cab and split the ride. By the end of the ride, he insisted on paying for it. Over the course of those 20 minutes we had a great conversation about the news business, our families and lives. He had an incredibly warm demeanor. I'd admired him much after his remarks during our conference, but I thought a great deal of him as a person after our short cab ride.
Farai Chideya
April 14, 2006
I got to spend some time with Bill during and after a Knight Fellowship at Stanford. He always encouraged me in my pursuits and had me come speak more than once to his classes. He struck me with his genuine concern for people, including me, and his love for teaching and training journalists. Warm-hearted and generous, I wish I got to spend more time with him... and I wish his family to know he was greatly loved.
Pablo Gonzalez
April 14, 2006
I was so sorry to hear of your loss. The thoughts of many are with you at this time of sorrow.
Tom Leonard
April 14, 2006
Bright and early, after a long commute from Palo Alto, Bill Woo engaged Berkeley students with the ethical quandaries they would find in the newsroom. He ran through cases from St. Louis, not as the finished business of a younger man, but as hard calls that were still rolling around his mind. Past journalism was not history for him, it was not even the past. I was in the room to teach History to these students; I am sure his message on this subject was the one they will remember. Nothing needs to be added about his grace and kindness, for it was as evident in North Gate Hall at Berkeley as reported everywhere else in this record.
-------
Kerstin ( Willi ) Emich
April 14, 2006
An hour ago my life was just fine, I came home from a dinner with my family and had a note from Martha on our answeringmachine to please call her back.I immediately was very concerned, that something really sad happened. It is very difficult for me to find the right words to express my feelings,because I have to write in a foreign language. I was the first Au-pair of Bill and Martha in 1989 and since then we stayed in touch.Bill is like a father for me. He made the year I stayed with the family so easy for me. I loved his kindness and his humor. I always had the feeling nothing can really get him out of balance.He was such a good cook, and he took me to " Blueberry Hill " in U-city to help me get over my homesickness. I love the whole family.Once I visited Bill and his family with my father and my mother back in 1992 he welcomed my parents with a cold beer. My mom still remember these days.I always sent a christmas box with candy and chocolat for martha and the boys. Bill always got some Mozartkugeln. It makes me feel so sad that I can never ever talk to him again. We did not see each other this often, but to only know that I can talk to him if I want to was ok. The last time I saw Bill and his family was in summer 2004. I came with my husband and my two boys to visit him in California. We had such a good time, it was like coming home to my second parents. WE where sitting on their porch drinking some wine and talking about stuff and he was cooking for us and I told him to come back soon to do this again.And kow he is gone forever. Our thoughts are with Martha and the boys and I hope that we still keep in touch and some day we can talk about Bill without crying.
I now will drink a glass of red wine and let the memorys come into my mind about all the wonderfull situations I had with this wonderfull man.
Cheers Bill !!!!!
Love Willi your wonder Au-pair
Shanna McCord
April 14, 2006
I was crushed to learn of Bill Woo’s passing. My mind immediately started racing with memories of graduate school at Stanford (2001-02) and how this particular professor forever changed my perspective on what it means to be a reporter. Few people have had the impact on my life Bill Woo did. He was calm, thoughtful, caring and always available for advice or a word of encouragement. From burgers and beer at the Alpine to his inspirational columns and meticulous editing, Bill Woo left with me an impression that will last a lifetime.
When I stumbled into Bill’s office on campus to inquire about the journalism master’s program on a hot summer afternoon in 2000, I knew immediately I was in the right place and never looked back as he steered me away from television to newspaper journalism.
Drue Kataoka, Stanford '00
April 14, 2006
Prof. Woo encouraged me in my artistic and musical pursuits when I was still a high school student. I remember his mellifluous voice and his soft, elegant way of speaking. His words on paper or in realtime were always musical. Each effortlessly crafted phrase conveyed essence.
In tribute to Prof. Woo...
Remembering a voice that ricocheted
Across their surfaces textured by time,
Today Sandstone Arches press themselves
against the azure sky
Leaning into ephemeral clouds
While Golden-fluted notes
weighted by sadness
pay tribute
and Noble Palms
Salute
Brian Eule
April 14, 2006
I remember hearing from a friend that if there was one class I needed to take to get the most out of my undergraduate education, it was one-- any one -- taught by Bill Woo. And I'm glad I did. Bill became a close friend, a trusted mentor, a favorite editor, and a companion with whom I had some of my most cherished conversations about life. From Bill, I learned not just about journalism, but about compassion and life itself, and he was the constant I checked back in year after year no matter where in the country I was living. I will miss you dearly, Bill, and my thoughts and condolences are with Martha and the boys.
Bill Dunlap
April 14, 2006
A couple of things about Bill Woo that weren't mentioned in his obit or in posted guest book comments. When Bill became head of the Post-Dispatch editorial page, he succeeded (maybe not directly, I forget) one of the great editorialists in our business, Bob Lasch, father of writer Christopher Lasch and one of the first to lead his paper to oppose the war in Vietnam. Big shoes to fill, which he did.
I was at the paper for a couple years when he held that position, but I really knew him best from the fact that he was a neighbor of my parents. Everything said about him by his students and colleagues in this guest book is equally true of him as just a neighbor and friend. Everyone I knew liked and respected him and a lot of the ladies had big-time crushes on him. (He was single at the time.)
I wasn't in St. Louis when he left the paper, but it is gratifying to know that he went on from there to have such a great impact on his students at Stanford. He'll be missed everywhere he was known.
Michael T. Lynch
April 14, 2006
William F. Woo led a charmed life. He found an occupation he loved and brought his towering intellect to bear during the final golden age of American daily journalism.
As much as he loved newspapering, his family was his pride and joy. His wife, Martha and three boys, Thomas, Bennett and Peter, provided him with with a combination of love and amusement that inspired many of his best columns.
When Bill was at the St. Louis Post Dispatch, the paper was one of the very few in the country to publish the Pentagon Papers. Bill was not only aware of this tradition, but he continued it until he left the paper.
Many of his old friends thought his real calling was to be a college professor. When he got the opportunity, we were proven right as the testimonials in this forum attest.
Bill belongs to the ages now, and more's the pity. Our country and our media need more like him and few are on the horizon.
Alana Dong
April 14, 2006
I was a sophomore in Professor Woo's Pulbic Issues Reporting course. He really touched my life, and here are excerpts from the letter I wrote him at the end of the quarter:
Hello Professor Woo,
Since you put so much time and thought into 8 weekly letters to us…I thought you deserved at least one back. There are no promises that it will be even close to the caliber of your weekly craftsmanship, but it is guaranteed from the heart.
I thought I’d start by telling you how I felt when you first e-mailed me to take your course: shocked, honored, surprised, excited, ambitious, scared, and overall…humbled.
I immediately researched everything I could on you. You would not believe my excitement to work with you. A world-class editor, previous foreign correspondent, on this board and that board—there was so much I could learn. I decided with a deep breath that this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up...
...Although I shared with you the many reasons I was anxious to be a member in your class (mentorship, your achievements, your experience), I failed to tell you the largest reason of all.
As I searched on the internet I found a particular speech in which you wrote, “Being a good human being is an integral part of being a good journalist; the world will remember you for the good works you did, not your place on an organization chart.”
Even as I read it now it rings within me. Over all your expertise in journalism, the thing you stressed most is being a good person; someone with integrity and moral dignity. The fact that you believe journalism and human worth go hand in hand is a refreshing wind to the dusty reputation of the reporter.
I wanted to study under you because you prioritized the quality of the human spirit. This is the journalism I have always hoped to be true. The kind of journalism I have often romanticized, but became worried of its existence after running into so many embittered journalists.
Seeing the emblem of traditional journalism teaching us about the values of integrity and humanity with such emblazoned passion renewed my hope in the professionals of journalism. Before this, I saw such self-centered reporting I wondered if this was really the business where a small seed of optimism can still grow...
...And it can grow and hopefully someday it will grow. I still have grandeur visions about making a difference in the future. Doing public service and revealing the hearts of people as proof to the rest of the world that good survives in us all. I want to give voices to people that endure the pain of silence and let them sing for those that may be able to answer their song.
...You have shown me that journalism is still an outlet that I can serve through. If journalism is my direction, than I hope at the end of my career I will be able to say that through it all, I was a good person that did things for others.
There is hope in the humanity of journalism, and you have shown me that.
Thanks for sharing,
“Scoop”
P.S. A glint still remains in your eye that feeds on the excitement of good journalism. I’m not sure if you’re aware of it, but every time a good story comes up, it gets brighter.
Terry Ganey
April 14, 2006
Bill Woo was a generous man in things small and great. In the summer of 1979, while I worked a summer stint in the Washington, D.C. bureau of the Post-Dispatch, he loaned me his Volkswagen for the weekend so my family and I had a way to get around town during a weekend visit. In 1990, as editor of the Post-Dispatch, he used his influence to make sure Pete Hernon and I got a leave of absence from the newspaper to write a book about Anheuser-Busch. I will always remember Bill's kindness and support.
Leslie Gordon
April 14, 2006
As a journalism master's student, I took a class from Bill at Stanford in 1998. I learned so much -- not just about the content of the course, but also, from his good example, about being a kind person. I am deeply saddened by his passing.
Robert Boczkiewicz
April 14, 2006
When Bill was editor of the Post-Dispatch, I called him in the early 1990s about a story I was working on because he had written a column on the same topic. Later, I sent him a "thank you" note for taking time in his busy day to talk with me and saying that perhaps I should not have addressed him in my call so familiarly as "Bill." He mailed back a gracious note saying, "Anyone who worked with me at the strike paper can call me 'Bill' anytime." (In the 1970s, he was a writer for the paper and I was a state capital correspondent for the competing St. Louis Globe-Democrat. We worked on a strike paper when a Guild strike had shut both St. Louis papers.) He did an outstanding job explaining to readers the public service and public trust roles of newspapers and advocating those roles. His passing is a great loss to journalism.
--Robert Boczkiewicz
Free-lance reporter, Denver
Ted Gup
April 14, 2006
I only heard Bill speak once- it was at a narrative journalism conference at Harvard in the winter of 2003. I won't forget it. His grace,his respect for words and clarity of thought, his compassion and quiet humanity were all in evidence. He spoke softly and all of us leaned in to catch his every word. He is precisely the sort of journalist we now need more than ever and I for one am most grateful to have had the honor to hear him speak.
Deanne Corbett
April 14, 2006
I last saw Bill Woo in October when I and two of my friends from the Stanford journalism program met with him and another of our former professors for lunch in Palo Alto. Not knowing that Bill was sick, we all talked about what we'd been doing in the years since we'd left Stanford and the choices we'd made in our young careers as journalists. As always, he was patient, encouraging, kind, and wise. Being in Bill's presence was a reminder to slow down, and to savor not just words and ideas, but also the friends and loved ones who make our lives worth living. My sincere condolences go out to Bill's family and colleagues.
Muoi Tran
April 13, 2006
Professor Woo, I know no other way but to tell you this directly. I just came from McClatchy Hall, Building 120, to wish you good night, good-bye for now--and good luck on your next journey. Even though it has been several years since I was a student in one of your classes, I still can clearly see your knowing smile and hear your warnings about overusing em dashes! And I can never, will never, forget your enduring patience, great recipes, and passions for journalism and for taking the stairs.
Thank you, and may our many precious memories of you inspire and guide you as you inspired and guided us.
Leland Kim
April 13, 2006
I was one of Bill's students last year. He is one of the main reasons I chose Stanford. Bill, in many ways, is my role model -- not only as a journalist but as a human being.
He is one part Otis Chandler and one part Jimmy Stewart; a tough leader committed to quality and integrity, but a gentle soul who sees journalism as a vehicle to change the world.
There are many anecdotal evidence of Bill's commitment to journalism and his commitment to his students -- from beginning his fall lesson plan during the summer to taking time to meet with us during weekends to go over assignments.
Bill always had time for his students. He was never too busy to listen or to help. Even during those months when he was going through painful radiation treatment, he kept that a secret from his students knowing that we would worry.
Bill is a man who never put himself first. He leads by example. I'm referring to Bill in the present tense because he really isn't gone. He lives in Martha and his boys. He lives in the faculty members. He lives in his readers. And he lives in his former students, who will apply the knowledge and wisdom Bill has taught us in our careers and the rest of our lives.
We love you, Bill.
And we miss you.
Yonghoi Song
April 13, 2006
I am really shocked to hear that Bill died of cancer. I met him when I went to Stanford journalism program in 2002. As an international student from South Korea, I was struggling with language problem and cultural gap. Without his warm and sincere guidance and advice, I could not have finished the program. I will miss him for long time.
Jeff Remington
April 13, 2006
I was fortunate to meet Bill Woo and his family in 1997 when I was the football coach for his son Tom at Gunn High School in Palo Alto, California. During the three years that I coached and mentored Tom, I always looked forward to the times I was able to spend with the Woo's on Friday nights after football games at the Old Pro or team dinners at his and Martha's home, discussing whatever topic came up. Bill had a great sense of humor,was wonderfully witty and had a great heart. I will always remember fondly when my family was getting ready to move half way across the country to Kansas City in 2001, and Bill brought my newborn son Jordan a Kansas Jayhawk stuffed animal that had been in his family many years. I thank you very much for your support over the years and I raise my glass one last time to you.
Vanessa de la Torre
April 13, 2006
Bill Woo was my journalism professor at Stanford last year. There were nine enrolled in the graduate program, and a few core professors, but we all seemed to immediately latch onto him -- a man whose accomplishments in journalism are hardly paralleled, and on paper would have been the most intimidating faculty member. In person, though, he was a gentle speaker, honest and often reassuring, who gave his time generously. He invited us to his Palo Alto home the first time we all met, on a September afternoon. We got to meet his lovely wife, Martha Shirk, and had a cool beer on his backyard porch. We discussed the upcoming school year, the November election. Eventually I would have a glimpse of his sons Tom, Bennett and Peter, because he talked about them with such wonder, a real dad.
One of the things I admired about Professor Woo was that he was wise as a philosopher, but younger than many of us twenty-somethings. He would go jogging in the morning, when many of his students barely had the energy to roll out of bed. Who knows how many thoughtful emails he wrote each day, and phone calls he returned, and smiles he put on people's faces.
He taught the commentary class spring quarter last year, and some days I noticed that he didn't look his usual self. Only later, after we graduated, did Professor Woo reveal that he was undergoing radiation treatment, at one point for 28 days straight. He said nothing at the time out of concern that we would become distracted with worry. We had things like master's theses to write, and he was adviser to practically half the program. Meanwhile, whenever I would visit his office, he'd open his desk drawer and offer me dried nectarines, worried about my own health. "Here, take the whole bag," he'd say.
Even when his illness became known, I refused to consider any outcome other than recovery. He talked about time remaining, and being grateful for every minute. In one of his last messages to me, Professor Woo was the comforter.
"The only truly bad things that happen to us are those things we do to ourselves, and they involve the old, old verities: honesty, decency, compassion, love." And his parting words, as always, seemed to go beyond journalism. "Start with the fundamentals, never forget them, never become so grand that they seem unnecessary," he wrote. "Now -- I before E and not after C. Watch out for clauses that dangle. Keep it simple. Follow AP style. Do you know the philosophical concept called Occam's Razor? It's a good way to do journalism and also to live a life."
Betsy Ivey Sawyer
April 13, 2006
Bill and his family were gracious to take me and my late husband, Dr. C. Glenn Sawyer, into his home for several days in the '70s when we were visiting our son, Jon Sawyer and Kem. He saved me from their cats to which I was highly allergic. I am grateful for his kindness to us and for his lasting and wonderful influence on Jon's career.
Joanna Corman
April 13, 2006
I studied under Bill as a journalism student at Stanford in the late 90s. In the five years I've been a journalist, I constantly think about what he taught us -- about the importance of choosing the right word, about creating prose that "lifts off the page into the hearts and minds of the readers," about how covering a beat is like tending a garden: you have to constantly water it or it dies. He helped shaped the kind of reporter I am. I will miss his gentle nature and kind words. He was a great person and journalist. My condolences go out to his wife and three sons.
Launce Rake
April 13, 2006
He was a thoughtful analyst of the industry, our product and processes, and all our quirks. We need more men and women like him in this business.
Craig Klugman
April 13, 2006
Bill Woo was a believer in serious newspapers and serious journalism and so was one of my favorite editors. Beyond his talents as an editor, he was one of the best opinion writers I have read: graceful, compassionate, pointed. For all that and for more, he shall be missed.
Dave Price
April 13, 2006
My heart sank when I saw the obit this morning for Bill. He was soft-spoken and kind, but his advice was always rock solid. He arrived in Palo Alto at about the same time I started my newspaper, the Palo Alto Daily News, and our paths crossed a couple of times in that first year. We stuck up a friendship, and soon I was calling him for advice when tricky problems or issues arose in our newsroom. It was helpful to talk to a veteran editor who had been through the same things before. I'm certain his students found his perspective to be as valuable as I did. I'm sad about his passing. Bill and his family will be in my prayers.
Repps Hudson
April 13, 2006
In 1985, Bill Woo brought me to the editorial page of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and began to teach me many things about my chosen profession. Among other things, he often reminded me -- and my colleagues -- to consider the tone and the impact of what we wrote.
He was not one for smashing icons or gotcha journalism. He was an elegant man and a wonderful, patient mentor from whom I learned so much.
In 1988, Bill made it possible for me to return to Vietnam 20 years after I had left as a soldier during the war. He thought it was a fine idea that I take my young daughter, whose mother's family lived in South Vietnam.
What a bold thing to allow me to take my 13-year-old child with me, and that trip changed the lives of both my daughter and myself.
Such was the generosity of Bill, and I shall always be grateful that he made me part of the Post-Dispatch.
Heidi Dietrich
April 13, 2006
I remember Bill Woo as a wise teacher, a mentor, and a friend. He was always willing to take the time out for conversation with a student over a beer at the picnic tables at the bar near Arastradero Preserve. After I left Stanford, he responded readily to e-mails seeking career or life advice, and his replies were always well thought out and balanced. I remember the photograph in his office at Stanford taken by a newspaper photographer of him running in what looks like a blizzard. That's Bill Woo to me -- quietly determined. I will miss him dearly.
John McManus
April 13, 2006
Bill was an uncommonly gentle, thoughtful and principled man, whose dignity was infectious. At Grade the News, we worked alongside Bill for two years, constantly running into him in the hallway or in our office, where he'd pop in to offer advice that often saved us from embarrassment as we tackled sensitive and complicated ethical quandaries.
Bill liked to turn an issue in a dozen different directions -- like a jeweler examining the facets of a gemstone -- before arriving at a conclusion. He had the clarity of insight only gained by paying careful attention over a lifetime.
He was as ancient as the classical masters and as modern as string theory.
Today we are grieving, yet enormously grateful for Bill's generosity of intellect and heart. We entrusted Bill with our most difficult questions about journalism and never regretted following his suggestions.
Jill Singer
April 13, 2006
I met Bill Woo one Sunday afternoon when he was editor of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. I was eight years old. My father, a Post-Dispatch lifer, had dragged our family to a company party across town and I was predictably bored. For years, though, I carried with me two memories from that party: The first was of an odd woman who, biting into what she thought was a hard candy, soon learned it was actually a decorative bar of soap; the other was meeting Bill Woo, who, I noticed from my diminutive point of view, had very dirty fingernails that day. I don’t know if he’d be happy I was divulging something like that in a public forum. But I think he’d secretly be proud of that kind of attention to detail.
Years later, he would be my first—and it turned out only—journalism professor at Stanford. I carry with me many more memories from that class—his frequent and graceful email missives to his students, my introduction to the lyrical long-form journalism of writers like Rick Bragg, and, shamefully, my less than perfect attendance record that quarter.
That which I can’t remember I still call upon daily—with my father, Professor Woo instilled in me everything I would need to make journalism my love and my career. He was an excellent teacher, a beautiful writer, and a good friend, and the world is certainly a more melancholy place today without him.
Betty Medsger
April 13, 2006
What a wonderful journalist, what a wonderful person. I'll never forget Bill's very effective way of connecting with students when we were part of a small group of American journalism educators who visited China four years ago. One day Bill returned from speaking to a class of Chinese journalism students. He was very moved by their enthusiasm, by their certainty that free expression and free press would grow and grow in China. It was an honor and pleasure to meet this person of such great acomplishment and generous spirit. Condolences to his family and to his friends and colleagues who will miss him.
Jeremy Bailenson
April 13, 2006
I knew Bill from casual "hellos" in the hallway, and it was always an absolute pleasure chatting with him. He without fail created time to spare a kind word, and often running into him was the bright spot in my day. He will be missed very much.
Ann Scales
April 13, 2006
I would not be where I am today without the nurturing and support of Bill Woo. What a smart, gentle, kind soul who left so many people in the world better off than he found them. Thanks for lending your hand and your shoulder, Bill.
Daniel Kreiss
April 13, 2006
I had the distict pleasure of being one of Bill's students at Stanford, and later, I counted him as a friend. While we did not always see eye to eye, I had great respect for him as a teacher and a man.
It strikes me after reading accounts of his life and accomplishments that Bill Woo did not teach journalism.
Bill Woo did not teach journalism, he taught integrity and character.
Bill Woo did not teach journalism, he taught justice, equality, and fairness.
He taught what democracy should be.
Journalism was not an end for Bill Woo, it was a means to create a better world, a world that we would all want to live in.
For that, among many other things, he will be missed.
Janet Cho
April 13, 2006
I had the privilege of meeting William Woo at an Asian American Journalists Association convention. Nothing about his demeanor said he was the first Asian American to lead a major U.S. newspaper, that he'd won an AAJA Lifetime Achievement Award, or that he'd been a three-time finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. Instead, he welcomed us all as fellow journalists, and was unfailingly gracious, utterly patient and absolutely inspiring.
Our thoughts and prayers are with his grieving family.
Pat Murphy
April 13, 2006
Bill Woo was the quiet man of journalism, whose soft words carried much wisdom and importance for those who enjoyed his friendship. Our troubled craft could use more Bill Woos today.
Catherine Shen
April 13, 2006
What a smart, gallant man Bill was!
He will be much missed.
John Carlton
April 13, 2006
Bill Woo hired me at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. He was more than just a scholar and gentleman, he was one hell of a journalist. He was also a tangible link to the proud past of a once-great American newspaper. He will be sorely missed.
Tara Cuslidge
April 13, 2006
I only met Bill once, when I was visiting the Stanford campus looking at prospective graduate journalism programs, but I still carry his card in my wallet. My mother and I were impressed by his humbleness and honesty during our visit to the university. He told it like it was. He also offered to answer any questions I had during the application process. I took him up on that offer more than a couple times. He was gracious in giving advice during my application period. He didn't know anything more about me than what I told him, but said he recognized my ambition as a young journalist. I didn't realize his card was still in my wallet until yesterday after I heard the news. I appreciated the help Bill. You were a memorable person.
Raymond R. Wong
April 13, 2006
April 14, 2006
It's truly a privilege and honor to have known Bill and learned from him over the many years that he had served as visiting professor in the Center for Journalism and Media Studies at the University of Hong Kong, where I have been serving as an honorary professor.
We'd taken part in several panel discussions and conferences on ethics, journalism in Hong KOng, China and Asia; and I had always gained a lot from Bill's insight.
As a fellow American of Chinese descent, Bill had served as a leading role model for the ethnic Asian journalists both within and outside of the Asian-American Journalism Association.
All of us are going to miss him dearly. My condolensces to his family.
Bryce Nelson
April 13, 2006
William Woo was a great American newspaper editor with a highly developed social conscience.
There are not many in his league.
He will be much missed.
Earl Oremus
April 12, 2006
I will be forever grateful to Bill Woo for his mentorship of my son Will at Stanford, and deeply grateful also that through that relationship my wife Stuart and I came to know him and count him as a friend. Our lunches together each time we visited Will were a highlight of our trips to Palo Alto. Bill was a truly gifted, skillful, and caring teacher of young journalists. I had the honor to read a number of the extraordinary letters that Bill regularly wrote to his classes. He had an exceptional gift for weaving his experiences as a journalist into compelling stories that promoted the principles he wished the young writers to adopt. In forty years as an educator I have not seen another form of teaching equal the humanity, caring, and power of Bill's technique. Bill's wit and charm, his generous spirit, his passion for his life work, and his commitment to helping the young who aspired to follow in his footsteps are treasured memories that will serve to balance the grief of his loss. Our world is the poorer for Bill Woo's departure. May his spirit remain yet with us in the devotion of his students to the values he stood for.
Showing 1 - 84 of 84 results
Make a Donation
in William Woo's name
How to support William's loved ones
Honor a beloved veteran with a special tribute of ‘Taps’ at the National WWI Memorial in Washington, D.C.
The nightly ceremony in Washington, D.C. will be dedicated in honor of your loved one on the day of your choosing.
Read more
Should I Send Sympathy Flowers?
What kind of arrangement is appropriate, where should you send it, and when should you send an alternative?
Read more
What Should I Write in a Sympathy Card?
We'll help you find the right words to comfort your family member or loved one during this difficult time.
Read moreResources to help you cope with loss
Estate Settlement Guide
If you’re in charge of handling the affairs for a recently deceased loved one, this guide offers a helpful checklist.
Read more
Obituaries, grief & privacy: Legacy’s news editor on NPR podcast
Legacy's Linnea Crowther discusses how families talk about causes of death in the obituaries they write.
Read more
The Five Stages of Grief
They're not a map to follow, but simply a description of what people commonly feel.
Read moreWays to honor William Woo's life and legacy
Obituary Examples
You may find these well-written obituary examples helpful as you write about your own family.
Read more
Obituary Templates – Customizable Examples and Samples
These free blank templates make writing an obituary faster and easier.
Read more
How Do I Write a Eulogy?
Some basic help and starters when you have to write a tribute to someone you love.
Read more