The two previous sports editors didn’t work out. They weren’t from the area and quickly moved on to jobs in their home states.

I learned later that the final decision on the job came down to me and an older gentleman whose multiple physical ailments ultimately factored in the selection.

I had been working in the Sports Department for four years as a stringer and was a senior at SUNY Fredonia.

I had recently switched my major from education to English after a humiliating, life-changing interview by an area high school vice principal. As a prospective student teacher, he saw my appointment not as a future educator but as a desk graffiti cop who would narc to him on bored, artistic, juvenile delinquent students.

The OBSERVER building was my home away from home for decades.

My offers to volunteer as a coach or advisor for yearbook, school newspaper, library, debate or honor society were rejected out of hand. It was graffiti that mattered. It had to be stopped. Pretty bad, right?

I never applied for the sports editor position. It was a dream job of mine, one I assumed was well beyond my reach, especially at my age.

I was stunned when City Editor Keith Sheldon and Assistant City Editor Ted Lutz offered me the job. My parents, Mark and Jean Hammond, counseled me to accept and I never regretted my decision.

However, there was one area high school football coach who was not a fan of my appointment. He complained bitterly about me to his school’s booster club at a meeting. He was certain that my background as a Cardinal Mindszenty High School grad and FSUC student-athlete would be disastrous for his school.

When my dad heard of this criticism he dropped him a note. He told him I was not biased against his school and to please give me a chance to prove myself. Pretty tame, right?

Mark Hammond

Somehow word of the correspondence got back to my dad’s enemies in the local football officials association and he was immediately brought up on charges. Officials are prohibited from corresponding with coaches.

My dad had been a thorn in the side of the group for years. He had advocated for changes in a variety of areas and butted heads with the Jamestown-dominated leadership repeatedly.

A sought-after sports banquet emcee, his considerable debating and public speaking skills made him a persistent problem within the board. Leadership wanted him gone.

He was charged with conduct detrimental to the organization and the group’s grievance committee recommended the death penalty, a lifetime expulsion. Pretty lame, right?

For expulsion, the accused had the right to present his case to the entire membership for a final decisive vote. Two-thirds of the vote would be needed to uphold the committee’s draconian decision.

The board called an emergency meeting to deal with the issue, betting its far-flung members were unlikely to attend on short notice. They felt they would have more than enough votes from Jamestown attendees and my dad’s fate would be forever sealed. Pretty low, right?

They seriously underestimated my dad, who retained a lawyer friend to represent him. He personally called every non-Jamestown member and implored them to attend and vote against this grave injustice.

They showed up in overwhelming numbers and the lawyer provided a masterful defense.

When the chairman of the grievance committee was asked by the lawyer to produce the alleged note, he admitted not having it and to never having actually seen it.

The coach was then contacted by phone and said he threw the correspondence away.

A total lack of evidence and hearsay testimony does not win trials, not even in kangaroo courts.

The vote wasn’t close. My dad was exonerated and went on to officiate for more than another decade. He gladly bought drinks at a nearby establishment that night.

Dad only confessed this incident to me after he was acquitted of the bogus charges. He said he didn’t want me to feel guilty about taking my dream job. Pretty freaking noble, right?

Just wish more fathers were like my dad.

——

Bill Hammond is a former EVENING OBSERVER sports editor.