No one ever saw Joe Dugas in The Press newsroom, but for nearly 40 years he was a fixture in the paper.
Dugas, who reviewed books, easily held the title of longest-serving contributor to our Sunday books pages.
"I remember the day Joe called the man in charge of the books pages at The Press and told him he had read a book he thought was quite good," Joe's wife, Blanche said. Joe and Blanche had just moved to Big Rapids. He was taking over as chair of the Language and Literature Department at Ferris State College (now University).
"Joseph asked if he could review it for The Press. He was pleasantly surprised when the man said yes," she recalled. "I have to say, that was quite a ways back."
Quite a ways as in 1961.
Over the years since, Joseph Dugas' byline appeared on an average of 20 book reviews a year in The Press. Just the books he got from us would make for a very respectable library in any home well, not the Dugas home which has shelves and shelves of books in every room, especially the book-lined basement. And the annual pace of the professor's reading must also be measured by the type of material he reviewed. These were not Jackie Collins, Danielle Steele quickie sleaze reads. He concentrated on heavy history books and biographies, the kind that, if they fell off your lap, would break a foot or squish the cat.
Joe Dugas died six weeks ago. That's quite a ways back, too, at least it is in daily newspaper terms. But the news was slow to trickle down from the Big Rapids to the Grand Rapids. No funeral obituary appeared in our paper at the time of his death. No one here was called.
The lack of notice, in itself, spoke of the modest, unassuming relationship Dugas felt he had with The Press. He would not have expected any special attention to his passing. Though he'd been writing for us for years and years and years, he conveyed a sense of being flattered every time a review was accepted. And they always were.
He could make a 300-page book with a dry title sound like it would be as much fun to read as the book at the top of the best seller list.
"He was a charming, gentle man who could make a 300-page book, with the driest title in the world, sound like it would be just as much fun to read as the book at the top of that week's best-seller list," said Sue Thoms, who has been editing the book pages the past four years.
Dugas chaired the Ferris literature department for more than 20 years and remained on the faculty, teaching classes until he retired 16 years ago. But retirement didn't mean an end to reviewing. Of the two dozen or so regular reviewers in Sue's coterie, Dugas was the only one using a manual typewriter. He still had an office on the Ferris campus where he could go to read and compose.
"With each review, he would attach a little half-sheet of paper, a note to me in this tiny print," she said. "Sometimes the note would cover both sides of the sheet. The note would be brimming with enthusiasm about the book he had just reviewed or the next one he wanted. Sometimes the notes would be personal. He paid close attention to anything you had said to him casually about family or your life."
Ann Byle, Sue's predecessor as book editor, said he wrote her with advice when she was about to get married. He sent notes or cards when her daughters were born and birthday gifts for them, too. Books, of course. And just the right thing for a child at that particular age.
Over the course of more than a dozen years, neither Sue nor Ann ever met with the professor face-to-face. "We used to drive through Big Rapids quite often," Ann said. "Each time I'd think about just stopping in to look him up. I never did. I regret that now."
To Sue, he was this "wonderful voice on the phone. I figured I would meet him someday. It never happened.
"He'd always start his phone conversations, 'This is Joseph,' but when I'd call him that, he'd say, 'Just call me Joe.'"
The professor sent in his last review in October, another heavy book, "Over Lincoln's Shoulder: The Committee on the Conduct of the War." It was then he told Sue he was going to be undergoing radiation treatments and might not be available to review for a while. He'd had a bout of bladder cancer two years earlier. It appeared the cancer was back. He promised Sue he'd be back, too.
Earlier in the year, Dugas had reviewed a book by Iain Pears, a work of fiction. But it was historical fiction, so he agreed to check it out. "He loved it and asked me to send Pears' next book his way, too."
She sent that next book to him, as a gift, and later followed that with a couple of cards. She never received a response.
Finally Sue made that awkward call to ask how Joseph was doing. Blanche said he had died.
The cancer had won. Joseph Dugas died at 81.
I talked to one of his two sons, Stephen, a bank manager in Lansing. Stephen's comments mirrored what we all saw in his father's reviews. He was exacting, precise and never was happy with anything less than excellence.
"What he did was push us and encourage us to reach our potential," Stephen said. "He taught us to reach the highest level possible and never be satisfied with anything less."
Wouldn't we all like to be remembered that way?
This article was published in the Feb. 7, 1999 issue of The Grand Rapids Press. Our thanks to Editor Mike Lloyd for permission to reprint.
