It’s Chris, my friend, and former High school classmate. “Scott McCloud died.”

It takes my brain a couple seconds to comprehend this. That name is familiar. Oh, our Journalism teacher. The nostalgia hits.

McCloud, Scott G., 64, Richland Twp., died Mar. 16, 2009 at UPMC, Pittsburgh. Born Dec. 30, 1944 in Windber son of the late Herbert and Leona (Gindlesperger) McCloud. Also preceded in death by father-in-law Orville Pauley. Survived by wife Dr. Carol (Pauley) McCloud, mother-in-law Elizabeth (Jones) Pauley, Windber, aunts Donna Park, MI, and Elsie McCloud, Pittsburgh. Scott was an English and journalism teacher in the GJSD for 28 years. He was a well-known radio personality who announced for WCRO and WKYE. At Scott’s request there will be no viewing, visitation, or service. Arrangements by Meek and Dalla Valle Funeral Home, Inc., Windber.

It’s 1990…

My junior Year, Scott McCloud came to Johnstown High school. He was technically an English teacher, but this was just one stop on his many varied carriers. He was a DJ for WCRO and WKYE in Johnstown, PA. He seemed to know someone in any business in Johnstown.

Scott came to JHS, and with plan in hand, built a student journalism department. And, much like I experienced later in life, the early years of this department was much like it’s professional counterparts. Wild, untamed, and effective. 

I’m not sure how I got involved with it, but when the boxes of Macs arrived, I was un-boxing them and setting them up. We worked layout, wrote stories, and edited our work. Students roamed the halls with expensive SLR (single lens reflex) cameras in hand, taking metric tons of photos.

I wasn’t the best student. I was bored in school. My circadian cycle almost guaranteed I took a nap in trigonometry every day. And, when other teachers let me slide, he challenged me. And he did it by trusting first.

He had no reason to trust me. But he did. Even to the point where he would give me his car keys at lunch to drop off the negatives at the developer. He had to know I was going to get lunch while I was out, didn’t he? Probably. 

One time I broke his trust. looking back I don’t remember what I did, but I remember the pained look on his face, and I know I never wanted to do that again. I didn’t hurt a teacher – I hurt a friend.

Fast forward 3 years.

It’s 1994, and I’m out of school. I’m back home, in Johnstown, and have nothing going for me. I use Mr. McCloud as a reference, and land a job as a clerk for the Johnstown Tribune-Democrat. It was a shot in the dark job, and and it beat flipping donuts at Dutch Maid. 

Couple years later, I’m at the TV station (WJAC-TV). Once again his name graces my resume, and once again Mr. McCloud’s silent hand gently glides me into a better job. 

The Big Shift

It’s 2000. The “dot com” bubble is in full effect, yo. I’m in Columbus Ohio, and within 4 days of moving I find a job. 

“So, you used to work as a reporter?” my interviewer asked.

“Yes, it was a great job, but the hours were hard, the money was poor, and I experienced a couple of incidents that scarred me.”

“What’s it like to be on TV?” 

“Well, I don’t think I’ll be on TV much fixing computers, but I’ve demonstrated an ability to write, and, as you know, communication is such a big part of customer service.”

Bingo. I have the job. And who can indirectly be thanked? Right again.

Back to the present.

Chris and I talk for 45 minutes. “When was the last you saw him?” “How long was he sick?” “Have you heard from any of the other crew?”

Do you remember this. Do you remember that? It floods back in laughter. 

I think Mr. McCloud would want to be remembered with laughter, but if he doesn’t mind, I’ll always remember him with something more.