Witnessing true greatness is a rare privilege.
Over the course of the 11 years that I worked as a colleague of the late Jack Lyne, I had many opportunities to witness his greatness.
There is a reason why he was inducted into the Kentucky Journalism Hall of Fame. Jack was the best at what he did.
His work as a journalist chronicling events in corporate real estate and economic development was unmatched. A lot of writers are good at observing details and reporting them. Many are skilled at interviewing their subjects and then turning that exchange into a meaningful article.
Jack exceeded them all by capturing the true essence of the story. It was never enough for Jack to simply reveal the facts. He sought to tell a compelling story by taking the reader inside the subject and immersing the reader in the many human emotions of it.
Within the same piece, Jack could make you laugh, cry, ponder and be filled with amazement. Sometimes, when reading his work, I would shift multiple times between these emotions, always to be brought back to my sheer awe of his ability.
The topic didn’t matter. He could be writing about a grandiose space elevator, an ill-fated biosphere, a corporate headquarters relocation or the passing of a legendary figure — as he did so eloquently and so movingly in July when he wrote Site Selection’s cover story on the life of Mac Conway — and he would take the reader to places totally unexpected.
Jack excelled at his craft because he possessed two qualities that are often found in short supply in contemporary journalism — profound humility and a resounding sense of his own humanity.
Jack never took himself too seriously, even though he was always a serious thinker. In an era when many journalists seek to make a name for themselves by ruining the reputations of others, Jack sought to elevate the human condition.
At a time when many news people relish skewering the actions and decisions of the folks they cover, Jack portrayed his subjects as three-dimensional characters whose lives mattered even when their conduct failed.
Jack could do this because he was more connected to his human soul than anyone I have ever known. He didn’t need to make fun of people because his ego didn’t need the boost. He could be genuinely kind to others because he instinctively knew how good it felt to be appreciated.
In all the years I knew Jack, I never once heard him utter an unkind word toward me or anyone else.
Jack smiled more, laughed more and enjoyed life more than anyone I have ever known. Even when the smile wasn’t visible on his mouth, you could see it in his eyes.
He cared so much about his craft and the people he worked with that he regularly dispensed encouragement. He saw it as the joy that would fuel the good work and goodwill of others.
He cared so much about his family that he always stayed connected to the people he cherished — his wife Laura and the entire Conway family, the family that raised him back home in Russellville, Ky., his adopted family of Conway Data, and his beloved Kentucky Wildcats.
His innate goodness and decency touched all who knew him and permeated every aspect of his work, whether he was writing an article for the SiteNet Dispatch or providing strategic direction to Conway Data’s association management endeavors.
When Jack spoke, people listened. When he wrote, the world was enlightened. And when he died, everyone who knew him experienced a sense of loss that cannot be put into words.
For more than 40 of his 67 years, Jack made his mark as a master storyteller. Now that this supremely gifted communicator has been taken from us much too soon, we are left with the indelible memory of his incredible life.
Thanks, Jack, for giving us all you had — the gift of a life dedicated to making the world and everyone around you better.
Thank you for letting us witness true greatness.
— Ron Starner
General Manager and Executive Vice President
Conway Data Inc.