Photo: Alan Pogue

My fondest memory of Ronnie Dugger is him in his cluttered cubbyhole of an office, his brow furrowed and his mind whirring as he pounded away on an old Royal typewriter, churning out another punch to the snout of the moneyed and right-wing elites

Dugger was once my boss, and we became longtime friends, and progressive allies. He died this week at 95, and most obituaries rightly hailed him as a “titan of journalism,” praising his smart, insightful and often-elegant writing. True enough, but an equally true side of Ronnie is that he was a boisterous, joyful brawler for life’s underdogs and an uncompromising champion of democratic values.

A working-class, rumpled digger of hard truth, he was founding editor of the scrappy Texas Observer when he was only 24, and he subsequently spent a lifetime traversing backroads and poking into backrooms as a relentless investigative journalist. His importance is that he went beyond the surface “story” that most media cover, not only revealing who was doing what to whom, but also who was behind it… and why. But Dugger always went further. He was not a dispassionate reporter of fact, but a believer that the truth only matters if there is action behind it—so he mobilized, organized, and inspired others (like me) to do the same. He was a true journalist-with-a-purpose.

Moreover, he rejoiced in the fight. Cursing and laughing at the same time, Ronnie believed that that battling the bastards is just about the most fun you can have with your clothes on. Every journalism school in America ought to have a course on Becoming Ronnie Dugger.

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