I met Jim in 1980, when he and Bonny sheltered me at their home while  recovering from a world class case of giardia, with the docs at Providence saying I needed appendectomy. For the record, I still have my appendix, but more than that a great memory of one evening when Bonny went out with her girlfriends and Jim left the house to quaff a few with his buddies. I'd spoken with him about an idea I had for a starting weekly newspaper in Bristol Bay, which elicited little more comment from Jim beyond "hmm, interesting." Until late that evening, when Jim came home to see me still scribbling at the far end of the dining room table. "So you want to start a newspaper, eh?" he said. "I used to do some of that kind of work." And taking his weighty Pulitzer medal from the mantel, he bounced it across the long wooden table and squarely into my chest. "Some people said I was pretty good at it!" This J-School dropout was impressed. Pulitzers are heavy! R.I.P. Jim. Fritz Johnson, Bristol BayTimes