I remember being at my desk here in the newsroom when I first started working for The Telegraph in 1989.  The phone rang and the gruff voice on the other end of the line said he “had a horse that eats rocks” and that I should come and take a photo.  He had me for a minute but when he started laughing I finally caught on and realized who it was.

Always upbeat and a constant joker, Bill was a more than a marvelous photographer.  He was a great guy.  A great journalist.  I absorbed a lot from him while working together in Maine.  He left for Ohio.  I left and ended up here.  When we worked for the Lewiston papers we were responsible for photos for three different papers.  He taught me to hustle.  He helped me to see.

We had a very full assignment load, often shooting both color slide film along with black and white for everything (and created the halftones for all our B and W).  On top of that we had to get two stand alone features a day. Each.  So, with four photographers running around our coverage area I would regularly come across someone Bill would have just shot himself.  The reaction was always the same.  A chuckle and kind word about the time they spent together.  But frustrating as that was (back on the road for me) the lasting lesson was that it’s people skills, almost on top of your photography skills, that take you from making good photos to great ones.  I’d watch him light something in the studio.  His photo illustrations were superb. I watched and I learned.

Several times a week we’d all head over to a local Italian restaurant on Lisbon Street for their chicken parmesan lunch special, grabbing a seat for each other if one was out on assignment.  Time off meant dinner at his place with his family (including his then toddler son, Patrick.  I remember him asking the youngster “who’s the best boy?”  The response, beaming, was a hearty “me!”).  Later at nite, beer and guitars. So it was rough last week when I heard about his passing.  He was a mentor in more ways than one.

There are only a few photos hanging in my home.  One is by Kathy Seward MacKay. One is by Dan Habib. Another is Bill’s.  He didn’t go with the fanfare of that other Kennedy but I know there are people in Maine and Ohio, and New Hampshire, where his impact in life was felt just as much.  Maybe more.

See you Billy.  Save me a seat.

Photo by Bill Kennedy

Tags: Bill Kennedy, Cleveland Plain Dealer, Lewiston Sun Journal, Ohio News Photographers Association