I received word Thursday night that Jim Long, a former newspaper colleague, has died. He was only 46.
He died at 6:02 p.m. at Kaiser Hospital in Fontana, according to his wife, Judith Pfeffer.
He had been in failing health for the past two years. He suffered a stroke in October of 2007, worked hard in an attempt to regain his mobility and return to work (as a computer lab instructor at Victor Valley High School), suffered another stroke in June of 2008 and was diagnosed with testicular cancer in June of this year.
I will update this item with cause of death, as well as information about arrangements for a funeral or memorial, as that information becomes available.
Jim Long — or Jimbo, as I called him, to differentiate him from the other Jims in the department — was a 17-year-old rising high school senior when he was hired in the spring of 1980.
He never in his life had what most of us would consider an “easy” day. He was born with Type 1 diabetes and palsy, suffered from lung cancer in his 30s (and lost half a lung) … and then battled strokes and cancer, again, over the past two years.
Yet he accomplished as much as most of us who have none of the issues he dealt with, and he never once complained, in my presence, about how he had been dealt a bad hand. In fact, he fought Mother Nature to a standstill for nearly 45 years, entered a profession for which he was perfectly suited, succeeded in it and, eventually, became the sports authority for the huge tract of territory (stretching from Hesperia to Baker) known as the High Desert — the San Bernardino County side of it, anyway.
He was mentally tough, impossible to intimidate, a good writer, an excellent researcher — and fully committed to the idea of print journalism, which he loved.
He was my first hire. He was one of my best hires, as well. He took himself and his job seriously and was utterly loyal to the newspaper and the San Bernardino Sun sports section. He never considered any assignment beneath his dignity. He covered preps, local colleges, California League baseball — and even some “downtown” events — and brought the same enthusiasm to all those assignments.
He was a part-timer for us in San Bernardino, until late 1988, when he was hired full-time by the Victorville Daily Press. In 1991, he became the beat writer for that area’s new Cal League team, the High Desert Mavericks. He loved that beat perhaps more than any other. He didn’t miss a home opener for 19 consecutive years (attending the opener this year in a wheelchair) and was a regular at Maverick Stadium in Adelanto, a ballpark known for a rock-hard infield and for wind-blown (and altitude-aided) home runs and high scores. Jimbo was taken off the beat by the Press in June of 1992, just after his marriage, but he still became the club’s unofficial historian. Within the past year he sent me a PDF attachment breaking out victories and defeats and total attendance for every year in Mavs history. He could tell you the name of every future big-leaguer who played even a minute for the club (from Matt Mieske on down), and would go into long reveries when considering the club’s all-time all-star lineup.
Another of his historic beat achievements was covering the first years of intercollegiate athletics at Cal State San Bernardino, a school which remains little-known but was utterly anonymous before it created its sports program in time for the 1984-85 school year. Jimbo saw their first contest (a soccer match) and their first basketball games, etc., and did all the day-to-day reporting of an athletic department being started from scratch. It also was the school he would get his degree from — even as he worked, essentially, full time for The Sun.
Later, after he and the Daily Press had a falling out, he became our go-to guy as a stringer in the High Desert. Filing clean copy and making deadline — even if we often had to call him, five minutes before deadline, to make sure he was going to make it.
He had a keen memory, and loved to regale listeners with very specific details about his road trips, and he loved his road trips, made in the same little red pickup for the first decade (or more) of his career. Whether they were prep football trips over miles and miles of bad roads to such remote spots as Tehachapi or El Centro or Trona … or Cal League trips to Stockton or Visalia or Modesto … or even to Minnesota (I believe it was) for the NCAA Division II women’s basketball national championships, in the spring of 1988.
He was a memorable kid. (And I will always remember him, as a kid, about 5-foot-5, with a mop of blond hair.) He was quirky and self-deprecating, fond of announcing himself (Hi there!) as he entered a room, and bidding adieu as he exited one. (A peppy “Sayonara!” often heralded him leaving the office.)
I wrote about much of this, and more, actually, last year when Jimbo was the subject of one of the “Seasons in The Sun” series I was doing (and didn’t quite finish). That item can be seen here.
From all appearances (and from Jimbo’s e-mails), his wife, Judith, was a rock for him during these final two years, which involved lots and lots of visits to doctors and therapists, and driving up and down the hill from Victorville to Fontana and back. I know he considered himself lucky to have married her, and I remember their wedding quite clearly.
It would be easy for those of us who came in contact with him to say he didn’t catch many breaks, in life, especially in matters pertaining to his health. But he never gave voice to complaints about any of that, and I’m fairly certain that he didn’t pity himself. So we co-workers didn’t, either.
He was just Jimbo, the reporter who was going to tick off some self-important source, and maybe annoy a copy editor who tinkered with his copy, who would announce, as he walked out the door, “I’m going to get reacquainted with my pillow!”
He will be missed by many and forgotten by few.
17 responses so far ↓
1 James Curran // Sep 25, 2009 at 3:29 PM
This was a lead-by-example guy if ever there was one, setting the tone for more than a decade of eager newcomers from Inland Empire high schools who grew up reading The Sun and wanting to be part of that section.
I would suggest that while they all listened to Paul O. for how to refine their skills, they paid attention to the relentless drive of Jim Long almost as much. If they didn’t, they would get buried under agate calls, discouraged and ultimately quit.
Education without drive equals nothing. Jimbo was essential in showing young impressionable reporters — including lil’ ol’ me — the essential desire to excel. Like a pebble dropped in a pond, the impact rippled beyond his departure, as part-timers passed that dedication on.
Forgive me for making a part of this about me, but look at the comments thread in my Seasons in the Sun post. I’ve been referred to as dedicated and essential to instilling drive in others who came in later. Well, who taught me? Jim Long.
In retrospect, I’m guilty of not thanking him for that.
2 Nick Leyva // Sep 25, 2009 at 9:50 PM
This is indeed sad news, I considered Jimbo a great example of what hard work and determination will get you in life. I met Jimbo on my internship in 1984. After Paulo and Vic West, Jimbo was probably my largest source of information about the dynamics of San Bernardino County high school sports when I arrived to begin my full-time job in June 1987. For that I am eternally grateful, Jimbo. My condolences to Judith.
3 Guaren Long // Sep 26, 2009 at 8:36 AM
What wonderful descriptions of the Jim Long I knew…since elementary school. He has always had these characteristics. Excellence in the face of phenomenal challenges. Thank you for contributing to our lives. Thank you Judith for being his biggest cheerleader.
4 Michelle Gardner // Sep 26, 2009 at 9:49 AM
I ran into Jim and Judy at a Mavericks game when they were playing the Sixers, I believe it was in late July or early August. They were celebrating their anniversary just by getting out of the house.
I could tell he wasn’t too well but he never complained. He was just excited to be at a baseball game again.
I never imagined that would be the last time I saw him but I am glad I was able to say hello and build one last memory.
5 Paul Jarman // Sep 26, 2009 at 10:19 AM
My sincere condolences. I graduated with Jim. I believe he is the one who took some nice pictures of me playing basketball at IKE, along with the articles in Eagle’s Eye. He indeed is a great example of just coping with the hand life deals us! I enjoyed getting re-aquainted with Jim on Facebook this past year. Peace…
6 doriann king // Sep 26, 2009 at 11:30 AM
I am in tears right now. Jimmy as i called him were blessed to have been talking to each outher over the last few months. He was excited about the renioun we were woking on a few years ago. I think he was the only one to have bought a ticket.
I grew up with Jimmy in Rialto we have know each outher since kindergarden. God bless you Jimmy I will see you when I see you. Say Hi to my Mom and Dad for me.
7 BTN // Sep 26, 2009 at 1:19 PM
As the poet Nickj once wrote, “he had two stories, and they were long…”
But they were also good. Peace be with you Jimbo.
8 Chuck Hickey // Sep 26, 2009 at 2:26 PM
In a department that wasn’t short of talent of character, Jim Long was a huge part of that. While there were “bigger” beats — Dodgers, Angels, Rams, Raiders, Lakers, USC, UCLA — that had more name recognition, that didn’t deter Jimbo from putting all of his effort into what were his beats. And not once did you ever hear him complain. Much like his life.
To him, covering Jim Ducey, Gary Smith and Paul Branum were just as important as Tom Lasorda, Pat Riley and Tom Boyle. He covered the local colleges, the Western Regional and didn’t make a peep about the long-haul playoff trips to El Centro and Trona. It was his job. It was important to the newspaper. He did it. Admirably.
Jim Long was a beacon in our thriving sports department. Looked to with respect from Paulo to the the major league beat writers to the agate clerks. An ever-flowing spring of local knowledge who didn’t take gruff from anyone. A newspaperman through and through.
My condolences to Judith and the rest of the family. Know that Jim touched many lives and will be deeply missed.
9 Bob Otto // Sep 26, 2009 at 5:36 PM
I met Jim when I first started stringing for the Yucaipa News Mirror in the early ’90s. As a new reporter, I felt a bit intimidated, but Jim chatted with me as if we were old friends, and made me feel welcome. I never forgot that. If only the world were blessed with more Jim Long’s. My condolences to Judith and his family.
10 Shawn Hobson // Sep 28, 2009 at 2:23 PM
I took journalism at Victor Valley College with his wife Judith as the instructor, and Jim was there to help. He was more than gracious. He probably dedicated more of his time than I deserved, but I’m extremely grateful. Thanks Jim.
11 Judith Pfeffer // Sep 30, 2009 at 7:52 AM
This is Jim’s wife … now, I guess, his widow.
I appreciate and am moved by all these comments.
I would love it even more if the authors (especially Shawn, whom I remember fondly, and Guaren, who was so supportive earlier to JIm this year) would write to me separately at the above address.
In preparing her eulogy, the minister is actively looking for specific anecdotes — short, sweet stories including such details as date, place and so on — that “show, not tell” the characteristics you all have named (and which I also was blessed to experience). We especially need those from his teens and early 20s (i.e., before I was blessed to have him in my life). Thanks.
P.S. We are thisclose to having a service date; it will definitely be next week, at Green Acres, Bloomington.
12 Judith Pfeffer // Sep 30, 2009 at 7:59 AM
This is Judith Pfeffer Long, once again.
P.P.S. I would also love to hear from Paul and Doriann if possible; or, really, anybody who thinks they can describe a specific incident where JIm’s determination, desire to help others, total commitment and lack of self-pity shine through … all is welcome, but items from the earlier in his life, the better. To help you calculate dates/ages, just remember that he was born in 1963, so if you knew him around, say, 1973, he was 10; around 1983, he was 20, and so on … Thanks.
13 Dalton Priddy // Oct 1, 2009 at 9:46 AM
We have traveled for billions of years throughout the universe, and from these seeds inside stardust we found one small planet where we evolved into the species we have become. This short existence when compared to the vast distance and age of the cosmos creates the circle of life that we return to as the stardust we are. Jim is going home to unite with his celestial ancestors for a new journey. Peace be with you Jim.
Judy, I would like to dedicate this song I wrote to Jim
See you soon, Dalton
http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=47152279
14 Landon Negri // Oct 3, 2009 at 2:34 AM
Apologize for chiming in late..
Jimbo was one of those guys I read in high school and then got to meet when I joined the profession, and I’ve always considered the people in this business who can link me from a reader to a writer special. Jimbo was there my very first night as a stringer at The Sun, and we later chatted it up many a night in Adelanto during Mavericks games. Always cheerful, always helpful, always with a smile, Jimbo was a good man with a great heart. He will be missed. God bless you, Jimbo…
15 Nancy Varela // Oct 5, 2009 at 9:24 AM
My brother called me today at work to inform me of Jim’s passing. My heart is heavy. My condolences to Judy, Jim’s “rock,” as he frequently described her in his monthly or so e-mails to those of us he considered fortunate enough to regale with updates on his recovery.
I knew Jim from our days on the Eagle’s Eye newspaper staff at Eisenhower. I was the Features Editor and Jim was our Sports Editor. He was mischievous, and loved my stern reactions when he told me of the different trouble he’d get into. For Jim, that trouble usually meant pranks that he and his friends would play on others.
Jim found me on Classmates and began writing me a few years ago. I always looked forward to his long emails, always amazed that he had such a keen memory for events from our high school days. In particular, he remember me and my “purple sweater.” He also loved to tell stories of his “kids” in his computer lab. Of course, he spoke of Judy often, and always lovingly.
I am truly saddened to hear of Jim’s passing, but in typical Jim fashion, he put up a hell of a fight.
16 cindy robinson // Oct 5, 2009 at 10:15 AM
Sorry for my late comments, but life has been a bit hectic in Corona….
Jimbo was one of the most amazing people I have ever had the pleasure to know and work along side. Yes, we all knew life didn’t give him a betting hand, but he took one pair and made a royal flush out of his life. He did not see himself as hampered with health issues, yet maybe that’s what drove him. He would ask the tough questions and continue hammering at a person until he got the answer.
There was a side to him that was gentle. He would talk about minor league baseball for ever. Working at the Sun was a dream for him. Leaving for the Victorville paper killed a little bit of himself. He was very loyal to the Sun, to Paulo and his friends. He was helpful to anyone and enjoyed sitting in a press box or in the news room. As for his beats: The good people loved him for they saw his tenacity and skills — the bad people ran and hid from him for they saw his tenacity for the truth.
Some people remind you daily of their health and physical “challenges.” With Jimbo not only did he never speak of hardships, but you quit seeing the challenges he dealt with daily and saw a hard-working, determined newspaper sports writer.
My sympathies and condolences to Judith, but know that Jimbo was very loved and respected.
17 Brian Robin // Oct 20, 2009 at 4:11 PM
Ummm. Wow.
Talk about being late to a funeral. I haven’t been around these parts lately (Sorry, PaulO), so I just saw this and was floored. Absolutely floored.
I had the honor to not only cover many events with Jimbo, but to share the Mavericks’ beat with him at the Daily Press that summer of 1991. We used to compare war stories covering a team that would eventually win the Cal League title.
By “war stories,” I mean how may ways could their closer at the time — a pitcher named Ed Zinter — blow a save right on deadline. Or how many ways could a Matt Mieske, Jay Gainer or Mark Gieseke, their three best hitters that season, blow a game open on deadline and how much of your story did you have to tear up.
All you had to do was mention the word “Zinter” and Jim’s face would light up in that impish grin. The grin would morph into that near-giggle, then into a broad laugh.
This was the “highest-profile” sports beat at the DP and Jim was forced to share it with me. Instead of resentment, bitterness or back-stabbing, he relished the arrangement.
There wasn’t a day that went by that summer where if he wasn’t there, Jim didn’t pull me aside to find out what happened at the park that night. He wanted to know how grouchy Bruce Bochy (the manager that year) was, what the crowd was like and — naturally — how much of my story did I have to tear up before deadline.
He cared. About all of it.
I’ve covered minor league baseball for four papers. Nobody was better at it, nobody cared about it more and nobody took as much pride in it as Jim. Period.
I agree with Cindy. Leaving the Sun took more out of him than he’d admit. And the way he was treated by the then-SE at the Daily Press, who doesn’t warrant mention in the same sentence as Jim on any level, was disgusting.
And when that same editor refused to let me file stories from Victor Valley locations from his paper, Jim graciously allowed me to send from the “Long Bureau.’ In fact, he insisted on it.
Up until recently, I would get periodic calls from Jimbo. Inevitably, the conversation would drift from journalistic hosings to minor league baseball to whatever was going on in Jim’s fertile and active mind at that given time.
Judith, once again, my apologies for the tardiness and the rambling nature of this, but it would be remiss of me not to express my feelings the moment I saw this. Please accept the belated condolences and know Jimbo is missed by this person.
Dearly.
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