By Don Corrigan (originally posted on the Gateway Journalism website.)
The death of Ray Hartmann in a car accident on April 23 left many St. Louis area residents with heavy hearts, but was also a blow to his journalism colleagues and the local environmental community. During his years with the Riverfront Times, and later with his columns in magazines and online, he covered such environmental topics as dioxin at Times Beach, lead poisoning in the city, radioactive contamination in North County. This memorial tribute piece by EE’s Don Corrigan first appeared in the online newsletter of Gateway Journalism Review.
Ray Hartmann was part of the character and topography of St. Louis. We have our landmarks – like the Gateway Arch, a square-beyond-compare pizza, an amazing Forest Park. And, we once had our landmark journalist.
The landmark journalist is gone. How the hell could that happen? Could it really be that an errant tire, bouncing off an interstate median, crashing through his car windshield, taking out the 73-year-old driver?
His demise is one of life’s absurdities, the kind Ray might have pondered and pontificated about – with his hands up in the air. That was so much fun. We loved when he put his hands up in the air in exasperation on TV or on a sidewalk – talking at us a mile-a-minute.
We took this landmark journalist for granted. It’s not fair. He was always supposed to be around – with opinion columns, with some snark on the radio, with some pithy commentary on television. And now, he’s gone?
How the hell could that happen?
Sudden death is often a shock to the system. It’s a safe bet that a tear or two has rolled down the face of both friend and foe alike in the case of Ray Hartmann. He had the charm of a sort of Mark Twain on steroids.
Among his journalism contemporaries, his death is a sucker punch to the gut. And it’s not just because he was such a talented voice for justice – and such a loved and needed representative of our kind.
His friends in journalism mourn because his death is the bittersweet icing on the cake – maybe a final nail in the coffin of a craft. It’s the death of a time when a journalism credential, great passion, some insomnia and hard work – might make a difference.








