I was a 22-year-old kid, fresh out of college and armed with the always marketable journalism degree. While I dreamed of sports writing gigs at holy grails like Sports Illustrated or the Chicago Tribune, I was pretty certain that I would end up covering village hall meetings and flower shows for a newspaper in some godforsaken cow town in rural America.
Then I came across a listing in a local university’s placement newsletter. It was for an editorial position at a small publishing company in downtown Chicago called National Bowlers Journal, Inc. I mentioned it to my father, a longtime league bowler, who promptly responded, “Bowlers Journal? That’s Mort Luby! Bowlers Journal is the top bowling magazine, and Mort Luby is a legend in the bowling world.”
Dad’s word was good enough for me, so I submitted my resume, such that it was. Shockingly, I received an interview invite.
The company’s office was on the 42nd floor of the John Hancock Building. Mort Luby Jr. was the third-generation publisher of Bowlers Journal magazine, which was launched by his grandfather in 1913. As I came to find out, he also published a small, bimonthly magazine called Billiards Digest. As I sat in his office for the interview, peering out over his shoulder at the beautiful Chicago skyline and lakefront, he handed me a single sheet with the heading, “Responsibilities of the Editor.” Editor? I’m not at the man-in-charge stage of my career just yet, I remember thinking.
I’m not sure if I looked as pale as I felt, but I was determined to do whatever it took to at least get a chance. So, I lied. Whatever he asked, I said I could do it. I told him I took photographs and laid out pages. (Technically, that was true. I had a half-semester course in each during my four years in college.)
What I remember about Mort, was that he was professional but easy to talk to. And he seemed fair. He didn’t offer me the job right away. Instead, as a sort of test, he gave me a writing assignment doing a feature on a woman bowler and a deadline. I turned the story in almost a week early. It wasn’t great, to be honest, but it was serviceable. Mort called me in again and offered me the job as editor of Billiards Digest.
That was 46 years ago.
Mort Luby Jr. passed away recently at 94. I’ve thought a lot about that day in 1980, and about what that day led to.
Mort was my boss — the only one I’ve ever had — for 14 years before he decided to retire, selling his company to me and Keith Hamilton, who had been the company’s business manager for 10 years. During those 14 years, Mort taught me everything I know about the magazine business and about our standing and responsibility in the industries we covered — bowling and billiards.
Mort could — and did — do it all. He was a marvelous writer, had a great eye when it came to photography and design, and was a tireless worked — always still at his desk after everyone else had gone.
Mort was already an icon in the bowling business, but he loved pool and Billiards Digest. In large part because of the business symmetries between bowling and billiards at the time, Bowlers Journal had long devoted space to billiard stories — coverage of the “major” events of the day and profiles on pool’s colorful characters. In fact, in the ’60s, Mort used to drive down to Johnston City each year and spend a week chasing players around the Jansco Brother’s Hustlers Jamboree. He’d follow the likes of Eddie Kelly, Ronnie Allen, Al Miller, UJ Puckett, Luther Lassiter and more for days, filling notebooks with enough copy to fill the magazine for the next 12 months. Oftentimes, he’d walk the golf course cut into the property, interviewing the players while the gambled on the course. And then, in September 1978, Mort gave billiards its own magazine — Billiards Digest. Shortly thereafter, he gave me a chance. And he told me how interesting the billiards industry was and how enjoyable the players and businesspeople in the sport were. Boy, was he right.
As a boss, Mort led and taught by his actions. He never sat over your shoulder. Mort’s teaching moments usually consisted of looking over your first draft of a story and handing it back to you with just two words: “Try again.” No detail. No explanation. Figure it out on your own.
Where I learned the most from Mort, though, was in the field. I took a simple approach: Watch and learn. You can learn a lot watching someone who was so clearly respected by everyone. Mort spoke to everyone. It’s how he learned about every facet of the business and how each facet impacted the others. He had a great deal of respect for everyone in the business. And he had respect for his place in that business. It showed in the way he dressed, in the way he carried himself and in the way he treated others.
Mort’s love for his job and the industry certainly rubbed off on that green journalism graduate. Honestly, all I’ve ever strived to do was emulate Mort Luby Jr. I knew I could never reach his level, but I also knew that using him as my model would get me closer than I’d ever have believed.
Thank you, Mort.
