Steven Lovelady, ex-Inquirer editor, dies

Steven Lovelady, 66, a former Inquirer managing editor whose sharp prose shaped Pulitzer Prize-winning stories, died of cancer yesterday in Key West, Fla.

Mr. Lovelady died under hospice care. He and his wife, Ann Kolson, had driven from their New York City home last week so that he could spend his final days at his beloved vacation home in the Keys.

"His talent as an editor, as a journalist, and an artist, was transformative; not just transformative for the paper, but for many of us in terms of how we understood the craft of journalism and its potential, and our potential," former Inquirer editor Maxwell E.P. King wrote yesterday in an e-mail to Kolson.

Mr. Lovelady worked closely with Donald L. Barlett and James B. Steele, The Inquirer's legendary investigative team. The pair credit him with shaping their two Pulitzer Prize-winning series on the inequities of the tax system, as well as two National Magazine Awards that the pair later won at Time, where Mr. Lovelady was also their editor.

"Steve was a great conceptual editor, capable of turning the complicated into something simple, usually with a bold word or phrase," Steele said. "With his irreverent sense of humor, he was born to be in the newsroom of a big newspaper."

"Steve Lovelady was a magician," said James M. Naughton, a former Inquirer executive editor, who said Mr. Lovelady's talent came so easily that The Inquirer's owners had little appreciation that he was one of the masterminds behind many of the 17 Pulitzers the newspaper won under the editorship of Eugene L. Roberts Jr.

"I doubt that we would ever have captured the Pulitzer Prizes we won without his touch," said Arlene Notoro Morgan, a former Inquirer editor and now associate dean of the Columbia University School of Journalism.

Mr. Lovelady, who worked at The Inquirer from 1972 to 1996 before becoming an editor-at-large for Time, later worked at Campaign Desk, a Columbia Journalism Review Web site that monitored coverage of the 2004 presidential election. There, he delighted in poking fun at pompous politicians and journalists.

"Lovelady had a wonderful line when he'd read something less than captivating: 'My eyes glazeth over,' " recalled Susan Q. Stranahan, a former Inquirer writer who worked with Mr. Lovelady at Campaign Desk.

Mr. Lovelady grew up in Worland, Wyo., and delivered newspapers on his bicycle in 30-below-zero weather, as he recounted in a humorous piece. He graduated from the University of Missouri School of Journalism in 1965 - having played at first base for Mizzou's team - and went to the Wall Street Journal.

At the Journal, he was an editor on the Page One desk, responsible for honing the highly readable stories that were then the hallmark of the newspaper. His extraordinary eye became legendary, and, at 29, he was among the first people whom Roberts hired when he became The Inquirer's executive editor in 1972.

"Roberts wanted him to replicate those stories at The Inquirer, and to act as a mentor to the young reporters," said Gene Foreman, former Inquirer deputy editor. "He was as responsible as anybody for the renaissance of The Inquirer in the 1970s. His imprint was all over the paper."

"He really single-handedly transformed the way a lot of young reporters thought of stories," said William K. Marimow, editor of The Inquirer, who was among the reporters Mr. Lovelady influenced.

Mr. Lovelady, whose title was associate editor for most of his 24 years at the newspaper, had an uncanny ability to distill stories into a memorable phrase, and to envision broader trends out of ordinary events.

King recalled a time when he, as city editor, took a dull story with high potential to Mr. Lovelady, who rolled the copy into his typewriter and went to work.

"What came out was astounding: magical, lyrical, and perfectly capturing the potential of this story," King said.

After the Three Mile Island disaster in 1979, Mr. Lovelady assembled the scores of files from reporters in the field to craft the breathtaking story that re-created the scene in the control room during the partial meltdown. The Inquirer's reporting on the accident won a Pulitzer.

"It was masterful," Foreman said.

Mr. Lovelady demonstrated his remarkable range most memorably in his association with Barlett and Steele.

"As an editor, Steve was one of a kind," said Barlett. "He had no equal. He could reduce the most complex subject to a sentence, and he did his best editing by scribbling notes to us on the back of envelopes or napkins."

But Mr. Lovelady was loath to draw attention to himself.

"He was brilliant, but he was also someone who never sought the limelight or credit," said Morgan. "Not many editors during our glory days or today can match him."

Mr. Lovelady was also known for encyclopedic mind, his wit, and his love of the ponies. He and John Lubell, another Inquirer editor, bought a racehorse together in 1980, and it won a couple of contests before retirement.

Its name: Wise Sky.

Mr. Lovelady is survived by his wife, a former Inquirer writer; daughters Sara and Stephanie; a sister, Melinda; a brother, David; and two grandchildren. Kolson said she was planning a memorial service in the spring.

Donations may be made to Investigative Reporters and Editors, Steven Lovelady Memorial, 141 Neff Annex, Missouri School of Journalism, Columbia, MO, 65211.

Inquirer editor Steven Lovelady wrote the lead of this installment in the Pulitzer Prize-winning series "The Great Tax Giveaway" by then-Inquirer staff writers Donald L. Barlett and James B. Steele. Imagine, if you will, that you are a tall, bald father of three living in a Northeast Philadelphia rowhouse and selling aluminum siding door-to-door for a living.

Imagine that you go to your congressman and ask him to insert a provision in the federal tax code that exempts tall, bald fathers of three living in Northeast Philadelphia and selling aluminum siding for a living from paying taxes on income from door-to-door sales.

Imagine further that your congressman cooperates, writes that exemption and inserts it into pending legislation. And that Congress then actually passes it into law.

Lots of luck.

The more than 80 million low- and middle-income individuals and families who pay federal taxes just don't get that kind of personal break. Nor for that matter do most upper-middle-class and affluent Americans.

But some people do.

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