The Ben Stiller movie, “There’s Something About Mary,” was on the other night and it reminded me of Bill Foley.
Bill Foley was a reporter who always carried a notebook and pen. He needed them for work but also because he couldn’t talk. When you asked Bill a question, he’d pull out the notebook and write his answer. Often, it was only a word or two. Usually, it was funny.
Because of throat cancer, Bill had his voice box removed.
Everyone assumed he could not utter a sound. Through odd personal circumstance, however, I learned this was not true.
It happened while we both were in the men’s room at the Florida Times-Union in Jacksonville. As we stood side-by-side at the urinals, I noticed Bill was in a hurry. Upon closing up, he – like Ben Stiller’s character in “There’s Something About Mary” — caught the frank-N-beans between the teeth of his zipper. And just like Ben, but not as loud, he let out a sound of agony and helpless distress.
The Stiller character, comically, was unable to free himself. Bill quickly fixed things and exited.
And there I was, with a secret to share: Bill Foley can’t talk but when it’s necessary he can moan! I tried being discreet and limited in my telling of the tale, but the worst got the best of me and the story spread. I never heard back from Bill and don’t know if my disclosure ever made it to his ears, which worked just fine.
Bill was a wonderful, witty columnist. Some knew him before the operation. I didn’t. I knew him only from his column, his actions and his laconic, handwritten retorts.
For a quiet guy, he brought lots of personality to the newsroom. I remember the time when lunches were being stolen from the office refrigerator. Members of the Refrigerator Users Group – RUG – went on a tear, sending out threatening memos and edicts to all possible suspects and devising multiple strategies of defense. Bill’s running commentary on the crisis was hilarious and ultimately silenced RUG.
It was pleasant to think of him again.
He died in 2001 at age 62 after working in newspapers for 40 years. I left the Times-Union in 1993 and never read his obit. I looked it up today.
Among other things, it said that, “Mr. Foley had written columns about generations of visionaries, bootleggers, politicos and hapless saps whose exploits helped shape the city.”
It said, “His wry humor and precise, staccato language attracted a following of readers that ranged from schoolchildren to corporate executives.”
It mentioned that he had played catch with Hank Aaron and spent time in Cuba with Che Guevara.
It didn’t mention Ben Stiller, frank-N-beans or “There’s Something About Mary.” For that I am grateful. I’m also grateful that Mr. Stiller, via his one-of-a-kind performance, was able to bring back some nearly forgotten memories of a man who could say a whole lot with so very little.
By Lanny Morgnanesi
<iframe width=”420″ height=”315″ src=”//www.youtube.com/embed/7cm0FZtlcxc” frameborder=”0″ allowfullscreen>
NotebookM 