Lonnie Morrison Wheeler

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June 27, 2020

It would take quite a while to write down my Lonnie remembrances. We were close friends as boys and I could easily say he was a best friend. From the age of three through middle school we hung out together. Going to different high schools and colleges,... moreIt would take quite a while to write down my Lonnie remembrances. We were close friends as boys and I could easily say he was a best friend. From the age of three through middle school we hung out together. Going to different high schools and colleges, we went our separate paths. But those elementary schools years couldn’t have been better. I remember on one occasion going over to Lonnie’s house in Clayton with the mission for us to go door to door selling something to raise money for Cub Scouts. Two young boys, proudly dressed in our uniforms, off we went door to door and feeling the the success of the mission even as we began. But, a dozen or two dozen houses later and after NO sales, the egos were deflated and the glow was gone at least for me because Lonnie could not be kept down. Even at this young age Lonnie set the tone and eventually we made a few sales and marked the day a successful one.
Then on another occasion there was our quest for the perfect baseball card of our heroes. Being in STL, we had great choices, and off we’d go to buy some Topps cards while hoping that we’d get Stan the Man, Bob Gibson or even a Mickey Mantle. Rarely did we ever get more than some stale gum and cards of fellows who’s moment of fame never went beyond that tiny picture with stats on the back.
Lonnie and I spent some summer time at Art Gaines Baseball Camp. Art was a scout for the Pirates and so we had pro scouts in camp quite a lot who were looking at the older players. What heaven! Baseball all day , everyday for three weeks. We’d get to play sometimes three games in a day and to make the travel squad was a big deal. Lonnie always made it because even then he knew the game from every angle and every position. I made it because I was a catcher, sometimes for Lonnie, and no one wanted that job. I remember when Cardinal HOF player Joe Medwick came up to camp and coached us a few days.
The last story that I’ll tell shows , in my version, Lonnie’s ability to make things happen. In fifth grade, school would be great if most of it was recess time. Lonnie almost made that happen. The short story is that he convinced the teacher that math could easily mean more if we played baseball. Simply said , you have to use statistics in baseball and that is a form of math . It worked like a charm and we’d play extra recess games and Lonnie would keep the stats on each player in each game. It seemed great at the time.
Bottom line is to be so grateful that we reconnected as adults, shared news from time to time about family or STL sports and saw each other at a remarkable reunion of third grade friends.
A tip of the cap to a wonderful man and true friend. less

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abby wheeler reacted on this.

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June 19, 2020

Just arrived!

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Martie Wheeler and abby wheeler reacted on this.

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June 17, 2020

I have enjoyed reading these comments and seeing the photos of wonderful Lonnie, who covered our sports stars but was a star in our newsroom, whose columns were must reading. Thank you, Wheeler family, for sharing Lonnie with our newsroom and our city. I... more

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abby wheeler reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, Mark. I remember taking that photo, and Dad wondering, "Why are we doing this?" And also that he couldn't hold his arm up in that pose for long.
- June 19, 2020
Martie Wheeler Hi Mark, thank you for your comments. Lonnie only had good things to say about you too
- June 20, 2020

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June 17, 2020 · via iPad

Dear Wheelers -we loved you memorial and hearing from you and from Lonnie’s many fans and friends. John and Polly

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abby wheeler reacted on this.
Martie Wheeler Thanks Pol.
- June 20, 2020

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June 17, 2020

Martie is my cousin, and our family got to know Lonnie in the 80s when Martie and Lonnie became a couple.
Yes, Lonnie was all about family and it showed when he easily blended in so well with our close extended family.
And that family has had many, many... more

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abby wheeler reacted on this.
Martie Wheeler Thanks Deb. Lonnie did love our family, and he enjoyed all the discussions. Thanks for welcoming him into the clan.
- June 20, 2020

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June 15, 2020

I want to offer my deepest sympathies to a wonderful family. I am so sorry for your loss. I never got to meet Lonnie but felt grateful to him often. From everything that I have heard of Lonnie and from the results of his deep love for his family and love... more

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abby wheeler and Emily Oubre reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, James.
- June 16, 2020
Martie Wheeler Thanks James. We heard so many good things about you too! Thanks for your part in Emily's Colorado life!
- June 20, 2020

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June 15, 2020

First, our sympathy and sorry for Lonnie's passing. We had the pleasure of knowing Lonnie when we lived in New Richmond in the 1990’s, and, no surprise, through the many sports our children participated in. The wonderful community we experienced in New... more

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abby wheeler reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you for sharing this, Howard.
- June 16, 2020
Martie Wheeler Thanks Howard. We sure do miss all of you.
- June 20, 2020

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June 15, 2020 · via mobile

May days of my childhood were spent with Lonnie as he coached our softballteam. He found something good in each child and built us up, teaching us the love of the game. Through him we learned kindness, sportsmanship, dignity, and teamwork. All the while... more

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abby wheeler reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, Stacey. This is very kind of you.
- June 16, 2020
Martie Wheeler Thank you Stacey. He had such fond memories of the softball days. And of all of you!
- June 20, 2020

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June 15, 2020

60 miles northwest of the small town of Peoria, Illinois, is an even smaller town called Annawan. It’s the sort of place where most of the roads are State Routes and much of the traffic are tractors. In 2001 the graduating class had 12 people, and my... more60 miles northwest of the small town of Peoria, Illinois, is an even smaller town called Annawan. It’s the sort of place where most of the roads are State Routes and much of the traffic are tractors. In 2001 the graduating class had 12 people, and my friend Shannon was one of them. Her dad used to announce the high school football games there, from a wooden shack of a press box that looked out over the football field and then the corn fields. In 2008, when Shannon and I drove across the country in a rental car with satellite radio, we’d switch between Cubs games and Reds games as we crossed mountains and deserts. Shannon’s dad died a few years ago. When she heard about my dad, she texted me, and said she’d be thinking about our dads watching baseball together in heaven. I smiled and began crying all at once, and immediately responded: Some little farm team, though. Not the big leagues. Because my dad was never drawn to the biggest or the best. He was interested in dirt, grit, and hustle. The underdog. Because he knew that’s where the best stories began.

Our dad’s life was full of incredible stories, but to us he was just “dad.” All through our young years, he’d challenge us with spelling words, math problems, and pop quizzes about how to get the easiest out. And when we were especially little, we loved his made-up bedtime stories. I remember, too, his visit to my third-grade class, to which he had been invited to speak as a local author. In an effort to explain to a bunch of kids that writing was simply his job, he said, “I am an author. I write books, so that I have money to buy Abby pizza,” of course with a self-amused grin on his face. But we all know that for him, writing was not just a job.

For many of us, Lonnie Wheeler means sports means writing. This is because, I believe, sports and writing were tools with which Dad navigated life. He used baseball, used journalism, to parse out what was important, what was good. To put it another way, it was how he both found and created beauty. I say this because I’m beginning to experience it personally; to find comfort in the meditative process of making sense of hardship by organizing it into words, and the release of it through sharing. I believe that’s what is happening right now. I’ve been remembering a high school poetry project, in which we were asked to use metaphor to describe our family. I wrote about a jigsaw puzzle, and said that Dad was our corner pieces; he was how we started and where we found our footing. It must have been around this time, too, that Dad and I had a disagreement about poetry; he argued that it had to rhyme. “If it doesn’t rhyme, it’s just prose,” he said. Time softened his hard stances, though; Dad may have felt that we, or I, picked on him by challenging certain beliefs, but I think and hope he understood it came from a place of deep caring and respect. It was just recently we’d talked him into coming to terms with Clark's grade school soccer team wearing pink jerseys. This was perfect timing because his little grandbaby, born just five days before his death, will have Dad’s unspoken blessing to be free not only to wear whatever he wants to wear, but be whoever he wants to be.

I’m seeing Dad remembered as a “family man,” and I would like to take a moment to talk about where he left us. In many ways, it seems like he got what he was waiting for. He saw Clark return to making music. Over video, he met his grandson, who, through some act of fate, was born three weeks early, healthy and happy, in time for Dad to learn that little Wesley Morrison carried on his middle name. Wesley’s early arrival also allowed him and his parents, Emily and Jared, to travel from their home in Colorado to be here in town for our dad’s passing. Dad got to see me make a home with my partner and, less than a month ago, announce our intent to be married. I know this was important to him, and that he was thrilled to know that I would officially become a step-mother and have a husband. In an effort to better understand the idea of marriage, I’d asked my family over email what our marriage means to them. On May 24th, Dad responded with several points before finally saying, “And then, for me, there's the parent factor. It's so deeply comforting to know that a tremendous guy like Jon will always be at your side, rain or shine. Naturally, Mom and I will still always be here for you--especially Mom, as we all know--but now, there's somebody closer and constant.” Which leads me to our mom--because talking about Dad inherently means talking about her. Some of you have referred to her as his rock, but you may not know how very much he was hers. Think of all you know to be good and true about our dad, the magnitude of the effect he had on you, and imagine that being your life, every day. Your home. This is the greatness and depth of absence our mom faces. I would like to personally ask that as you wade through your own grief, you keep our mom not only in your heart, but in your actions. And not just right now, but in the weeks and months to come. Because as regular life begins to creep back in, our mom will be starting a completely new life, one without her husband, her daily companion. And taking those first steps into this new world is when she’ll need us most.

For the past six months, we had Dad working on a personal project, which involved his writing down answers to a series of questions about himself and his life. I’d like to share the last bit of his response to the question, What brings you peace of mind? “On a shallower, me-only scale (if that's what we're looking for here), I'd say it's closely related to finishing things, large or small. In advance of the finishing--the prelude to peace of mind, you might say--it involves knocking off all the ancillary, interfering chores until I'm able to focus entirely on the operative task. I'm inordinately unsettled by the suspensions of progress that seem to be fundamental to the kind of work I do. When I worked for newspapers, I always said that writing is not much fun, but I love having written. On the newspaper pace, you get to finish something every day. Writing books, I miss that. But it does make me content when, as I close my file until tomorrow, I can think, I did well today.”

Like everything my dad ever said about himself, that he “did well” reaches so far into understatement as to border on self-deprecation. Living in Cincinnati, I often find myself asking, “Do you know Lonnie Wheeler?” Chances are decent that the answer is yes, and when it is, it’s almost certain to accompany a feeling of appreciation, if not admiration or even affection. When I typed “Lonnie Wheeler” into a twitter search this past week, and saw the name pop up over and over, in bold letters, what I began to understand is that Lonnie Wheeler is not just a name, and he was not just a man. He was an idea, an amalgamation of utter goodness, truth, and simple decency. All I have to do is say, “Lonnie Wheeler,” and you know exactly what I mean. You know that Lonnie Wheeler means the containment of all things just and right. In this way, I think we begin to understand a person in greater depths when they’re gone because it’s not until then that we really talk about them. It’s when the defining outline of a person becomes visible around what they’ve left.

I worry sometimes that I may have been hard on my dad; he often called us “a tough audience.” Of course his supply of erudite dad jokes knew no end, but we also used him as a sounding board to cement our own ideals and principles. I think we considered him unflappable. And we may have shown little mercy, but I believe he toughened us; that through him we built strength. He was our whetstone. But he was not unmovable. The hardest part of his death, for me, is knowing his tenderness. I’ve been unable to put this into words. All I can say is that behind the scenes, in our home--and possibly with some of you, most likely in private conversation, just the two of you--our dad displayed a sweet vulnerability, that to see taken away, is just painful.

Many of you have reached out to tell us how much our dad loved us. We thank you, and we know. We didn’t need to read his books to understand that our dad chose his words carefully. He meant exactly what he said. So when Dad told us he loved us, we knew it to be the truth.

People say their loved ones visit them, speak to them. I’m not sure what to make of this. What I do know is the day after Dad died, Clark, Jared, Jon and I played cornhole in the backyard of our parents’ house. I wasn’t playing well. I was distracted and really only there because the boys needed a fourth person. At one point, I found myself wondering if Dad would visit me. At least, I thought, I know I will never stop talking to him. In my mind, I will always be addressing him. I’m thinking this as it’s my turn, and at that moment, I toss, and my bag goes right into the hole. In two games, it was the only one I sank. Because how else would my dad say hello than a perfect throw on a breezy summer evening? less

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added 5 photo(s) to the memorial :

June 14, 2020

abby wheeler the drive-in! favorite Clermont County pastime; Mom & Dad looking out over the Smokies; in the sunroom at my aunt & uncle's house (Davie & Cathie); looking over the menu; family photo on the porch at home in New Richmond
- June 14, 2020

added 4 photo(s) to the memorial :

June 14, 2020

Laura Crawford reacted on this.
abby wheeler Mom & Dad at Oriental Wok for Dad's birthday; Fourth of July at Art's farm; Clark & Dad at Frisch's in New Richmond; breakfast with the NR crew at Joe's Cafe
- June 14, 2020

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June 14, 2020

I love this picture of Dad holding a weird Christmas ornament of a mouse wearing a tuxedo that for some reason he purchased and gave my mom as a gift. He saw it, thought of her, and thought she would like it?

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Martie Wheeler reacted on this.

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June 14, 2020

I only had the privilege of working with Lonnie for five years, but in that short amount of time, he made me a better journalist and, I hope, a better person. The way he wrote about people and the way he treated people can both be defined by one word:... more

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abby wheeler reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, Frank.
- June 14, 2020
Martie Wheeler Thank you Frank - he had good memories of his days at the Post.
- June 20, 2020

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June 14, 2020

What a wonderful memorial service for Lonnie. As people continued to speak, I was reminded of one specific time he helped me with a story. I was assigned to do a sidebar at a Reds game. The story was about Mark Mulder, then pitching for Oakland. Mulder... more

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abby wheeler reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, Kevin.
- June 14, 2020
Martie Wheeler Thank you Kevin. I know he was happy to be able to help. Thanks too, for your kind words at the memorial.
- June 20, 2020

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June 14, 2020

Lonnie was a Wonderful Guy! I met him around 1980 when he moved to Cincinnati to be a writer for the Enquirer, not as a sports writer but as a writer about people; I looked forward to his articles every week. A group from Church, Martie, Connie,... more

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abby wheeler reacted on this.
Martie Wheeler Thanks Sher. Those are some good, long ago memories!
- June 20, 2020

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June 13, 2020

I heard about the Wheelers from my brother-in-law Dan Boggess, when they lived next door on Grays Lane.
I met Lonnie and Martie when Emily started playing baseball on the Dirt Devils with my son Mike. It also seemed like Emily was the best hitter on... more

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abby wheeler reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thanks so much, Tom. I'm so glad you kept up your lunches and friendship.
- June 13, 2020
Martie Wheeler Thanks Tom. He had fond memories of our days in New Richmond, and he enjoyed those lunches. When you are self employed and working from home, social events mean so much more. Especially for a people-lover like Lonnie. I'm so glad you all were willing... more
- June 20, 2020

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June 13, 2020

created by my daughter, Aya - capturing his sense of imagination, I'd say - much like her own

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abby wheeler reacted on this.
Martie Wheeler Thank you Jon and Aya!
- June 20, 2020

added 3 photo(s) to the memorial :

June 13, 2020

abby wheeler and Emily Oubre reacted on this.

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June 13, 2020

From John Baskin:

I’ve known Lonnie Wheeler for so long I can’t remember exactly when we met. It seems forever that we’ve been exchanging advice, support, and recommendations of various dark Scandinavian television series involving morose... moreFrom John Baskin:

I’ve known Lonnie Wheeler for so long I can’t remember exactly when we met. It seems forever that we’ve been exchanging advice, support, and recommendations of various dark Scandinavian television series involving morose inspectors chasing serial killers.
Lonnie was an important contributor to the literate old Ohio magazine of the 1980s and early 1990s. Then we spent a large part of a year writing “The Cincinnati Game” (where he saved me time and again with the game knowledge I lacked, and it was all HIS work that led The New Yorker’s Roger Angell to say it was “the first original work on baseball that I’ve come across in years”).
We survived that experience to collaborate on three more books, and recently I’d line-edited his new book, “The Bona Fide Legend of Cool Papa Bell” (Abrams Press). It prompted a paroxysm of emails through much of last year, which I stuck in a file, as some of them amused me by being quintessentially Lonnie, particularly on issues of grammar.
At one point, I wrote him about his hyphenation policies: “You should be ashamed of sending an old faux-grammarian into an hour of figuring out why HE (if not YOU) would never hyphenate the verbs ‘started up’ and ‘rounded up.’ But it’s YOU we’re speaking of, and there’s honor at stake.”
I explicated, as painlessly as possible why there should be NO hyphen in what I called phrasal passages.
Lonnie accepted what he called “my tediously small and pathetic case.” Then he wrote, “Not saying I like it, though. Phrasal passages: sounds like sinus trouble to me. And tell me you've had a better hour in the past two weeks. Can't do it, can you?”
In total, I’d accumulated forty-two pages of letters/emails and some 15,000 words. Reading back through them, I could hear Lonnie’s good, intelligent, droll voice—always the trait that set him apart from so many in the profession.
It’s also the voice of his good new book on Cool Papa Bell, the man Lonnie was driven to write about because, as he said, “Papa is not only a legend of historic proportion, he is perhaps the noblest man I've come across in a lifetime of writing sports.”
With America riven and Lonnie now gone, what better time for such a legend to be put in front of us. It’s a book that is at once a tribute to Cool Papa Bell and to Lonnie himself. Noble is as noble does. less

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Emily Oubre and abby wheeler reacted on this.
Martie Wheeler Thank you John. He valued your friendship, and he loved the way you kept him on his literary toes! And he was so appreciative of your help with Cool Papa.
- June 20, 2020

added 1 photo(s) to the memorial :

June 13, 2020

Emily Oubre, abby wheeler, and John Stamm reacted on this.

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June 12, 2020 · via iPhone

In 1980, I landed at the Enquirer as a college/tv-radio/backup Reds guy. Moved to Mount Washington. Got married to Ann that summer. I hadn’t know Lonnie much, but soon Lonnie and Martie became our best friends. What friends they were, loyal and fun.... more

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4 person reacted on this
abby wheeler Thank you, Peter.
- June 12, 2020
Peter and Ann King You're welcome, Abby.
- June 15, 2020
Martie Wheeler Thank you Peter. Those were fun times, and they feel like an eternity ago! I'm glad we got to spend those happy days with you and Ann.
- June 20, 2020

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June 12, 2020

Lonnie was my best man and one of the best men anyone could hope to meet.
I met him as a freshman at Missouri and he has been a mentor, a role model, a dear friend and a terrific and prolific writer for nearly half a century.
Forty years ago, the year... moreLonnie was my best man and one of the best men anyone could hope to meet.
I met him as a freshman at Missouri and he has been a mentor, a role model, a dear friend and a terrific and prolific writer for nearly half a century.
Forty years ago, the year before he got married, we took a trip out west to all of the places we might never otherwise go: Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, the Dakotas, Western Canada. We saw Chuckwagon races at the Calgary Stampede, got stopped for speeding in Buffalo, S.D., were enchanted by the grittiness of Butte, Montana, and survived food poisoning somewhere, I think, between Moose Jaw and Medicine Hat.
During this odyssey, Lonnie pulled the car over to the side of the road in a panic. He thought he had lost his glasses. After a few minutes of frantic searching, I started laughing. He was wearing the glasses he couldn't find.
Usually, though, he had the last laugh and the definitive one-liner. He was that clever, that quick, but never mean or thoughtless. He could show you where you were wrong with cool logic, warmly delivered, like a preternaturally wise older brother.
We worked late at The Maneater, Missouri's student newspaper, and Lonnie would sometimes drive us back to our dorms at 3 or 4 a.m. by taking shortcuts over the broad campus sidewalks. This was as much of his rebellious side as I ever glimpsed.
His default setting, though, was sensitivity.
When he encountered my dad, who rose through the ranks in the Army before a long career in civil service, he usually addressed him as "Colonel." I loved that.
When a new face intersected with our circle, he was welcoming and inclusive.
When I drove to the airport after his wedding with his luggage in my car, he was quick to forgive me.
And, man, could he write. As a senior at Missouri, Lonnie covered a football game between Mizzou and SMU and demonstrated how far a confident writer could depart from the inverted pyramid to convey the significance and the flavor of a single play. A former walk-on named John Moseley made a spectacular punt return for a touchdown in that game, bouncing off would-be tacklers like a purposeful pinball, and Lonnie's account was so playful and evocative that it seemed the work of a master craftsman and not an undergraduate.
Thumbing through his books in my home office -- there are at least five of them here, and more at work -- I have been unable to turn a page without finding a paragraph I wish I had written.
From I Had A Hammer (The Hank Aaron Story): "I recall listening to the radio beyond my bedtime as the Cardinals tried to protect a lead against the Braves in the late innings and thinking what a fearfully difficult thing that was with Aaron, Mathews and Adcock in the middle of Milwaukee's lineup. I recall Aaron's unlined, innocent face on my baseball cards. And I recall sitting on a picnic table at the Art Gaines Baseball Camp in rural Missouri as the coaches talked about hitting a baseball hard -- not high and far but hard -- and raising my hand to tell them that I had been to Busch Stadium in St. Louis and seen Hank Aaron hit a ball that banged off the left-field wall quicker than, well, I don't know what, but quicker than anybody else alive could make a baseball bang against an outfield wall. I knew that would impress them, because they were baseball people and they would know that Hank Aaron was the right name to drop in that situation."
An authentic stylist, keenly observant and deeply compassionate, Lonnie was a sports columnist who never wrote a hackneyed piece and, so far as I know, never made an enemy. His books focused primarily on baseball, but he also authored Detroit Mayor Coleman Young's autobiography and might have landed a deal to write Aretha Franklin's memoir had he responded to her question about his favorite song of hers with an answer other than the obvious: R-E-S-P-E-C-T. (I would have picked Natural Woman, but the Queen of Soul never called.)
If you haven't read any of his books, I highly recommend Bleachers (an account of a summer spent at Wrigley Field), Blue Yonder (an insightful look at Kentucky's rabid basketball fans), I Had A Hammer (Aaron's autobiography), any of his multiple books about Bob Gibson, and Intangiball (how little things mean a lot in baseball). His last book, on Negro Leagues legend Cool Papa Bell, is in the on-deck circle.
I think he would be prouder, though, of his family than of his body of work as an author. I think he would find a way to change the subject when the subject was himself.
Sorry, pal. You have meant too much to too many to let you leave us without tributes and tears.

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4 person reacted on this
abby wheeler Thank you, Tim.
- June 12, 2020
John Stamm Wonderful tribute, Tim.
- June 12, 2020
John Stamm About Lonnie’s artful story on the Missouri-SMU game in Dallas and John Moseley: I was fortunate to cover that game with him. Of course, he did the game story. I never forgot his first reference to Moseley; it might have been in the lead: “John... more
- June 15, 2020
- · 1 likes this
Martie Wheeler Thank you Tim. I guess when so many of your friends are fellow writers, you should expect to have eloquent memories posted on your behalf. But I think Lonnie would be truly surprised, and I know he would want to return the favor. I'm glad I got to... more
- June 20, 2020

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June 12, 2020

Lonnie only came into my life late last year, when his literary agent--with whom he'd worked for decades--sent me a draft of his biography of the legendary James "Cool Papa" Bell. I loved it and was happy to take it on, but the real treat was... more

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abby wheeler and Emily Oubre reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, Jamison.
- June 12, 2020
Martie Wheeler Thank you Jamison. We were both so grateful for your interest in the Cool Papa project, and your willingness to take it on. It is a book that was especially close to his heart. I don't remember ever seeing any book come together so smoothly as this... more
- June 20, 2020

added 5 photo(s) to the memorial :

June 12, 2020

abby wheeler Dad with Emily & Jared's dog, Cora, at their home in Colorado; Mom & Dad at our annual Christmas brunch at the Palm Court; Halloween on the block in Silverton; Dad gets a shirt; outside the Aronoff after seeing Rent with Emily, cousin Sheri & Jon, my partner
- June 12, 2020

added 1 photo(s) to the memorial :

June 12, 2020

Emily Oubre reacted on this.
abby wheeler Father's Day at Aglamesis. Sorry for the repeat picture.
- June 12, 2020

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June 12, 2020

I heard the news that Lonnie Wheeler died Tuesday, and I was shaken.

I had the honor of working with Lonnie, and the blessing of getting to know him, at the old Cincinnati Post. He already was a world-class talent, a former Cincinnati Enquirer sports... more

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abby wheeler and Emily Oubre reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, Mike.
- June 12, 2020
- · 1 likes this
Martie Wheeler Thanks Mike. I think Lonnie was happy to get back involved with the newspaper after freelancing for several years. It seems like the camaraderie mixed with the effort to produce something day after day gets in your blood, and it felt good to return to... more
- June 20, 2020
- · 1 likes this

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June 12, 2020

I am so, so sorry to hear this sad news. We became friends when we worked together at the Anderson Independent, our first jobs out of college, and later continued the friendship when we all moved to Jackson, where my husband Bob worked for the... more

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abby wheeler, Emily Oubre, and Martie Wheeler reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, Barbara.
- June 12, 2020
John Stamm Hi, Barb: Yeah, you got it. Lonnie was visiting me and there for an interview.
- June 13, 2020
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Martie Wheeler Thanks Barb, and thanks for the photo! I did not realize that you worked at 3 papers together
- June 20, 2020
Barbara Paynter Actually, Martie, I only worked with Lonnie at the Anderson Independent. I paused my career when I started having kids, so it was my husband Bob who worked at the Clarion-Ledger and the Cincinnati Post. And since we were always on the news side, not... more
- June 21, 2020

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June 12, 2020 · via mobile

Lonnie Wheeler was the Godfather of the Missouri Mafia. With his dedication to his craft he gave us all a challenge we could not refuse: be good. Then be better.

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4 person reacted on this
abby wheeler Thank you, Bob.
- June 12, 2020

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June 12, 2020

So many emotions, so many memories and, as the song goes, memories bring memories …

Gosh darn it (you didn’t cuss around Lonnie), this is tough. What should I say about this simple man, my best friend and best man, who others have said was “my... moreSo many emotions, so many memories and, as the song goes, memories bring memories …

Gosh darn it (you didn’t cuss around Lonnie), this is tough. What should I say about this simple man, my best friend and best man, who others have said was “my North Star, a mentor, caring, kind, humorous, playfully sarcastic, faithful, observant, inspiring, loving, man of principle, great guy, great writer, gentle, loving,” and who would have been uncomfortable hearing it all? No fuss.

How do I follow the wonderful, heartful tribute at the top, so well written by his children that not even Lonnie could match?

How can I be concise about a 56-year friendship where we played Khoury League baseball (he hit a homer off me that he never stopped talking about), went on double-dates, umpired games, dashed downtown to see Cardinals games, watched the Blues win a triple-overtime playoff game then raced home to beat curfew, were college roommates for four years (he viewed putting up with me that long as one of his greatest accomplishments), spent a week in Florida watching spring training games (three one day), saw Tom Seaver no-hit the Cardinals in Cincinnati, got lost in Chicago with me driving and ended up in Gary, Ind. (he never forgave me), both became sports writers (I became an editor, he was never fond of them), worked together at a newspaper, kept secrets, seldom disagreed (I think; he would know better), married up, bragged about our kids and didn’t see each other enough?

Perhaps it's best just to recount how we met and the last time we saw each other:

It was 1964, school had just started, and we were in a 7th grade civics class. The teacher asked the class to name a desert in Africa. Lonnie raised his hand, the teacher called on him and he said, “Safari!” I turned and said with a frown and some indignation, “Saaaaafari?” He quickly realized, said with a bit of a blush, “Sahara,” and slumped in his chair. I introduced myself afterward, apologized if I had shown him up, learned he liked sports, especially baseball, and lived near me. So I invited him over, he loved the ice-cream sandwiches stashed in my freezer and the friendship was on.

The last time we saw each other was in April, 2016. After I retired in 2014, I started pressing him on getting together. It had been too long. We settled on a place about halfway between Memphis and Cincinnati in Kentucky at the Pennyrile Forest State Resort Park, which was on the Kentucky Lake, featured a lodge with a dining room and the closest town was 30 miles away. It was perfect.

From Friday afternoon to Sunday morning with no place to go and our patient wives mostly listening, we relived old times, told stories, told on each other, watched baseball, talked about our kids, and cried. Of course, I didn’t think it would be the last time I’d see him, but now that it is, I’m cherishing that weekend all the more.

And yes, he bragged again about that home run.

I miss you.

Rest well, my great friend. less

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abby wheeler and Emily Oubre reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, John.
- June 12, 2020
Joel Bierig Beautiful tribute, John
- June 12, 2020
Martie Wheeler John, you've been a great friend to not just Lonnie, but all of us. We are grateful.
- June 20, 2020

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June 11, 2020

I can't think of a worse way to memorialize Lonnie -- a man who was so careful, so exact with his words than to share a Twitter thread, but, well, it allows me to get my "tit's important" joke in, and only becasue I screwed something up (sorry... moreI can't think of a worse way to memorialize Lonnie -- a man who was so careful, so exact with his words than to share a Twitter thread, but, well, it allows me to get my "tit's important" joke in, and only becasue I screwed something up (sorry Clark). Anyway...

I received an email this morning that I didn't want to be true. Seeing it reported -- because, well, this is our life -- makes it a little more real and it's honestly, the worst. I am gutted by the loss of my friend and mentor Lonnie Wheeler.

If you'd read Lonnie -- in the Enquirer, Post or one of his books (with the likes of Hank Aaron, Bob Gibson & Reggie Jackson), you knew he had a way with words that was unparalleled. If you knew Lonnie, you knew he lived a life that was unparalleled.

As much as I would love to be able to write like Lonnie, my wishes are much greater (and just as impossible) -- I would love to be the father, the husband, the friend, the teacher and the man that Lonnie was. He was an example for all of us.

Lonnie was a man of principle, a kind man who saw the best in everyone. A sports columnist at a newspaper has a reputation that is often earned -- they are a department of one, an ego that can be as outsized as their paycheck. That wasn't Lonnie.

One of my favorite things about Lonnie, though, was he was as good at dishing it out as he was taking it. With Lonnie, there was always laughter, because he'd have the best, most crafted joke, but it was never mean. Early in my tenure at the Post. I was sent to cover the Flying Pig. Lonnie was there and said, "Trent, it must be weird for you to cover one of these after how many you've run." I still chuckle about that one -- and even had it mentioned this morning.

Lonnie was something else I am not, a man of faith. I am a man of doubts (so many doubts.) But even in these words, I'm worried, because if he was right -- and he usually was -- he's seeing them and I'm afraid I can't do him justice. I miss you, my friend.

I can't imagine what Martie, Abby, Clarke and Emily are going through right now. I knew you guys because I knew Lonnie and anyone who knew Lonnie knew about his wonderful wife and his talented, intelligent, caring children. He loved you more than anything.

Oh crap -- it's Clark. Damn it Lonnie, I've already messed it up. Even though you looooved some of my typos. Now I'm laughing at the joy you got from a typo in a story I wrote with the quote "tit's important" instead of "it's important." You laughed that it was still correct.

The smallest bit of comfort I get, and I realize this is a small thing, but still... I'm so happy that you'd finished your upcoming book on Cool Papa Bell. I can't wait to read it. less

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abby wheeler, John Stamm, and Emily Oubre reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, Trent.
- June 11, 2020
- · 1 likes this
Martie Wheeler Trent, Lonnie admired your work and quoted you often. Since I don't subscribe to the Athletic, he would send me pasted-in excerpts of articles he wanted me to see. I'm glad you two were friends, and I know he was too. Thank you for the kind words. And... more
- June 20, 2020

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June 11, 2020

So sorry to hear! My heart aches for his beautiful family, which he valued far and beyond his literary success. "Great writer and even better person." Perhaps not the most original statement, as so many others have said the same of Lonnie, but... more

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abby wheeler, John Stamm, and Emily Oubre reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, Joel.
- June 11, 2020
Martie Wheeler Thanks Joel, I remember that he was happy to reconnect when he spent that summer in Chicago.
- June 20, 2020

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June 11, 2020

I knew Lonnie was not doing well. But when I heard the news Wednesday, it still ripped apart a hole in that part of anyone's heart that remembers someone fondly from a special time in a person's life.

Lonnie was my age. We were on the Cincinnati... moreI knew Lonnie was not doing well. But when I heard the news Wednesday, it still ripped apart a hole in that part of anyone's heart that remembers someone fondly from a special time in a person's life.

Lonnie was my age. We were on the Cincinnati Enquirer staff together during five or six very cool and memorable years. There were a bunch of us 20-something folks trying to figure out how to do our very best work and enjoying the hell out of the adventure, socializing often away from the office as most of us started young families. But among us all, there's no question that Lonnie was the most conscientious human being and the smoothest, most stylish writer. He did such fine work and could handle anything.

As a feature writer, he had such an amazing eye and such a great touch. I vividly recall a series of stories he did on "Cincinnati's Most Interesting Intersections" or "The City's Most Important Crossroads" or something. I don't remember exactly what it was called. But he took a potentially mundane idea and made it a terrific project, finding details and historic notes and current occupants of those intersections and turning it into fascinating stuff that was incredibly fun to read. His writing was a level above what we were doing in sports at that time. And then, when he did join the sports department, it raised our talent level and ambition the way the proverbial rising tide lifts all boats.

I think Lonnie always wanted to be a sports columnist -- he probably wanted my job and I couldn't blame him -- and he later became an excellent one. But I'll always remember the way he clamped onto those feature subjects either inside or outside of sports and made them all sing. That skill set and passion translated into all those high-quality books he eventually authored.

During our time on the same Enquirer staff, he and I would debate about various sports topics, of course, but we also discussed the work and how to approach it. I always had the feeling that he didn't think I took the quality of my writing seriously enough. I'm sure he was right. No one took his writing more seriously than Lonnie. It showed in every paragraph that left his keyboard.

Sadly, I had not talked to him in a while or very often after I left Cincinnati for San Jose. But over the past 30 years whenever we did run into each other--we'd see each other at a sports event or when I'd return to town for a visit -- he would talk mostly about his family and how much he enjoyed his kids. His wife, Martie, was saintly as all journalist spouses are. My sincere sympathy to them. I admired the hell out of Lonnie as both a guy and a journalist. I'll hear his voice every time I re-read his work. And I will re-read it often. Damn. It just isn't right or fair that he's left us this soon. less

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abby wheeler, John Stamm, and Emily Oubre reacted on this.
abby wheeler Thank you, Mark.
- June 11, 2020
- · 1 likes this
Martie Wheeler Thanks Mark. Those early days at the Enquirer were surely a special time, and I know Lonnie remembered them fondly. A memory of mine is when you and Barb brought Sarah (right?) over when Abby was born. After you left, Lonnie and I looked at each other... more
- June 20, 2020

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June 11, 2020 · via iPhone

So very sorry to hear this. I met Lonnie when I moved to the St. Louis area in January of our second grade year. I had a little crush on him at eight years of age because he was so smart and so principled... even then. I was thrilled when I beat him in a... more

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Emily Oubre reacted on this.
abby wheeler thank you Monica <3
- June 11, 2020
Martie Wheeler Thanks Monica. That was a fun reunion weekend!
- June 20, 2020

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June 11, 2020

Dad working in his office with the dog, at home in New Richmond.

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John Stamm reacted on this.

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June 10, 2020

My name is Rick Wetzel and I grew up with Lonnie in St. Louis. We played against each other in Khoury League Baseball. We haven't seen each other for years but kept up on Facebook. I always told Lonnie what a good pitcher he was and he was always very... more

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Emily Oubre reacted on this.
abby wheeler thank you, Rick
- June 11, 2020
Martie Wheeler Thank you so much.
- June 20, 2020

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June 10, 2020 · via iPhone

Three beautiful souls who are together once again. There are no words. Uncle Lonnie was such a sweet and caring soul. I will forever remember our trips to visit all of you with Mom when we were kids. I always loved the relationship that the two of them... more

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abby wheeler, John Stamm, and Emily Oubre reacted on this.
Martie Wheeler Thanks Laura. It's fun seeing your sweet family grow!
- June 20, 2020
- · 1 likes this

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June 10, 2020 · via iPhone

Thank you so much for putting this beautiful page together. Not everyone gets to encounter such an amazing soul as Lonnie in their lifetime, and I feel lucky for all the memories I have and time I was able to spend with him. I can’t help but think of... more

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Laura Crawford and Emily Oubre reacted on this.
abby wheeler thank you, Betsy. what a beautiful photo.
- June 11, 2020
- · 1 likes this
Martie Wheeler Thanks Betsy. We miss you!
- June 20, 2020