Dorothy Estes, educator extraordinaire

Many of my friends and former colleagues are mourning today the passing of Dorothy Estes, a legendary journalism educator at UTA.

Estes was the Student Publications Director at UTA from 1970 to 1996 and oversaw the publication of the Shorthorn, the university’s student newspaper. More than any single person, she is responsible – along with generations of talented student journalists – for the national reputation for excellence the Shorthorn has enjoyed for decades.

But she was more than that. She was a great teacher and a stellar mentor, setting an example for UTA journalists for courage, straight-talk, ethical behavior and dedication to craft that they carried with them when they left campus to join newsrooms across the country.

She was a surrogate mother for thousands of homesick kids facing the first great challenges of their lives away from the nurturing confines of home and hearth. She cared about her young charges, mourning their losses and celebrating their victories, offering a broad and comforting shoulder to cry on or just to rest on for a while.

Estes also was a passionate and eloquent advocate for journalism and its essential role in a free society. She demanded strict and uncompromising adherence to truth, accuracy and precision in the work of her students. But she also understood that students sometimes made mistakes and that they needed space in which to learn from those mistakes and grow as professionals and as people.

I met Estes as a young student journalist at UNT – known then as North Texas State University. She was a friend and colleague of C.E. “Papa” Shuford, the founding chairman of the NTSU J-department, and made regular treks to Denton to consult and commune with him.

At the time, North Texas student journalists were an arrogant bunch, thoroughly convinced we were a part of the top journalism program in the Southwest and one of the best in the nation. We looked down at the world – including the high and mighty UT-Austin – with a blend of unwarranted superiority and vague contempt.

Sigh. We had so much to learn, and the lessons administered by the real world were hard and brutal.

But UTA, smaller in size and stature than it is today, gave us pause. After meeting Estes, we quickly recognized an inspirational leader and a superior educator. I was immediately drawn to her enthusiasm, irreverence and damn-the-torpedoes style.

As for her students, they were quietly competent and sure of themselves. Reading the Shorthorn gave us a shiver of dread and uncertainty. It was good. Damned good. Better than the North Texas Daily? Unthinkable. And yet …

Taking the lead of Estes and Shuford, NT and UTA student journalists formed a bond. We cheered each other’s successes and competed furiously with each other in state and regional contests. When we encountered Estes, she treated us as her own. Once, when I ran into her at a journalism conference in Dallas, she called me by name, and it sent a thrill of exhilaration up my spine. Dorothy Estes knows my name!

Later, when NT and UTA alums met in newsrooms, they became close and trusted colleagues from the start. We shared something that others did not.

The passing of Estes, who died yesterday at age 90, reminds me of the enduring impact of great teachers. If I had to pick the most influential people in my life – the ones who contributed most to making me the person I am today, my parents and my maternal grandmother would top the list. But all the others would be teachers. Erma Stewart and Sharon Ryan at Big Spring High, Dal Herring at Howard Community College, Shuford and Keith Shelton at UNT.

What I learned from those teachers enriched my life and molded me as a human being. My failures can be laid entirely at my feet, but the dedication, wisdom and generosity of those teachers helped pave the way for all my successes. I was lucky to have them. Thank God I had them.

Dorothy Estes was that kind of teacher. And based on the many tributes ringing across social media today, she had that kind of impact on her students’ lives.

Luckily for UTA and its present student journalists, Estes’ legacy of excellence and compassion lives on. My friend Laurie Fox, an Estes student herself, is carrying on in her mentor’s footsteps.

Under Laurie’s supervision, The Shorthorn recently won the American Collegiate Press’ Pacemaker award, the equivalent of a Pulitzer Prize for student publications.

That’s not a bad goodbye present for a renowned journalism educator. Not bad at all.