In appreciation: Mark Niedhammer

The thing about Mark is that he had a lot of layers. He liked to present himself as almost a vaudevillian jester, silly all the time and joking all the time but there was a lot more in there.

Most people never saw those other sides of him, but I think they could feel it. People liked Mark. They could sense the warmth and intelligence underneath all that silliness.

Mark could have a short fuse at times, but those times were rare compared to the many, many times I would hear him patiently (oh so patiently) helping someone create their classified advertisement for The Lakeville Journal. I’m pretty patient but on many occasions I felt certain that I could never, ever have mustered up the level of care that Mark could find in himself for those people who really needed it.

The highest level of care was saved for children. If you ever saw Mark deep in serious conversation with a youngster, you would feel such envy. He was always focused, never distracted or rushed when he was talking to a child.

Adults didn’t always get the same kind of conversations with Mark, but that’s probably because we were always whizzing by him on the way out to do something that seemed important at the time.

Two of the adults who got the best part of conversational Mark were Richard and Fran Paddock. Fran used to work beside Mark in the front of our Bissell Street office, for years. Even after she retired she and her husband, Dick, would wander in and sit and chat with Mark for hours.

By then, Mark had already had his fill of running around chasing journalism stories, as a cameraman for the ABC news affiliate in New York City.

Two of the highlights of his television news career were covering the visit of the pope to New York — I think it was Pope John Paul in 1979. Mark didn’t talk about it in detail most of the time, but once he described to me, with delight, they way they had strapped him to one of the news vehicles, like Homer listening to the song of the Sirens, so his camera wouldn’t shake or fall.

He also covered the Winter Olympics in (I think) Lake Placid in 1980. He loved that trip and still wore his Olympic news team jacket for years after.

I can’t remember which story Mark won his Emmy Award for, but he did win one, and it always elicited a look of surprise from our summer interns when I would tell them that. They, like perhaps others, might have overlooked the talent in that silly guy sitting at the front desk answering the phone at our office.

But he always patiently shared photo tips and tricks with the interns, and our reporters. Of course, the thing is this: Mark could share tips with me all day long but I could never take photos like he did. Some people just have a gift. Here’s the positive proof: One time we took an office field trip into New York City and Mark sat next to me on the train. We both raised our cameras and took the same photo at the same time. The end result? No comparison, and I’m not being modest. That to me was the greatest photo lesson ever: It’s in your eye. It’s the way you see the world.

In his later years, Mark saw the world in new and happy ways with his companion Anne Bowen, who patiently put up with all of Mark’s silly jokes because she also was the beneficiary of Mark’s warmth and caring.

I think Mark found the perfect companion in Anne, who is kind, patient, generous, curious about the world and — most important — has a great laugh.

As I write this I wonder whether Mark would want us to laugh as we remember him, or if he’d want us to cry a little bit because he’s gone. I think maybe a tear or two would be OK. Everyone needs to know they were loved and will be missed.

But then he would want us to live by the words he shared with us all, day after day: “Continue to have a wonderful day!”

Cynthia Hochswender

Lakeville