All told, it was the stories

Pat Stith, investigative reporting, editor -- Back when Pat Stith and our former colleague Joby Warrick were reporting for the Pulitzer-prize-winning Boss Hog series, Warrick had an important interview with a scientist who worked for the state.

The scientist, who'd been nervous about the meeting, told his department's public affairs director afterward that he thought the interview went well. Warrick, he said, was real nice.

The public affairs director hooted: "Wait until you meet his evil twin!"

That was Pat Stith.

Stith, fierce government watchdog and reporter's hero, retires from The News & Observer this Friday. In the 48 years since his first byline, Stith set a standard for journalism at this paper and every other in the state.

For Stith, just about everything was a competition. Who could work harder and longer? Who could pay least for a vehicle and keep it running longest? Who could lose the most weight?

Stith always won. That was his nature.

That's why, over the past decade, as editors studied readership surveys and wrung their hands about getting readers "engaged," Pat offered a simple solution: "How 'bout we kick butt and take names? How 'bout that for getting readers engaged?"

Before McClatchy bought our old nemesis, The Charlotte Observer, Stith summed up his attitude toward helping our now-sister paper: "I wouldn't give them air in a jug."

But as much as Stith liked to win, he was also motivated by a genuine sense of justice. As Stith would say, his head cocked slightly: "That ain't right."

What the stories about Stith's retirement sometimes fail to convey is the big heart inside the Super Reporter chest.

He was kind to everyone; he mentored hundreds of journalists. He was the same Stith before and after the Pulitzer.

I was always charmed by the old-world manners his daddy hammered into him at an early age. Walking down the sidewalk, he would always dance around me to be on the "outside."

I was fortunate to become his friend during the months he edited me. He says the friendship was sealed the day I brought in a homemade cake on his birthday. He was having a rough time, and he appreciated the small kindness.

For my part, I'll remember that on the day my son Tucker was born, Stith was the first to show up at the hospital. He sent up a pot of mums and a note that was pure Stith:

"You had a baby and a front page story on the same day. Good work."

Not that every day under editor Stith was a joy. He asked the question: "You got the conn?" from his old Navy days, designating the officer responsible for giving a ship's steering and engine orders -- until it just wasn't funny anymore.

We were all happier when he went back to reporting. Most of all, him. See, Stith never lost sight of how much fun it is to be a reporter. To get the story, to tell it well. And every once in a while, to make a difference.

Or, as Pat would put it: "Every once in a while, you get to drive the steamroller."

I'll miss the way he stirred creamer into foul coffee with his index finger.

I'll miss the way he'd grin up at me from stacks of files -- the sure sign he was on another bad guy's trail.

I'll miss the way he'd end every conversation with a funny tale. "Did I ever tell you ..." he'd start. And then he'd launch into another Pat Stith story.

Another Pat Stith story. That's what we'll all miss the most.