Former Citizen publisher Del Laverdure died five years ago this week at the age of 50. His legacy remains here at the paper and across the community -- one of the rooms at Rotary Hospice House bears his name, as does the road leading to Citizen Field. This is an excerpt from editor Dave Paulson's tribute to Del in the April 11, 2008 edition of The Citizen:
As publisher of The Citizen, Del Laverdure recognized the positive impact he could have on his beloved home town.
Del accepted that being publisher -- the boss -- of a daily newspaper came with a responsibility to do what he could to make Prince George a better place.
He relished the role -- not out of ego, but out of sheer love for the city he called home since he was 10 years old.
When you see The Citizen's name, banner or logo at charity fundraisers, concerts, sporting events -- the list is almost endless -- it's Del's fingerprint on his unfailing belief that the newspaper should be an integral part of the community.
One of his proudest moments in his nine years as publisher was being one of the key people who made the health rally at CN Centre a reality in 2000. In a matter of about 72 hours, Del and a handful of other influential people mobilized an entire city to demand action to combat a deteriorating local health-care system. It miraculously led to the formation of the Northern Medical Program at UNBC.
Despite annually contributing literally hundreds of thousands of dollars to local causes and events -- events which otherwise might not take place -- Del never sought personal recognition.
He was no glory seeker. At any Citizen-sponsored event, he'd usually be the guy sitting in the corner, gladly allowing the spotlight to shine on others.
It was his style. Low-key. Difficult to get to know, certainly, but once he let you in you saw the real Del -- all confection. A crunchy coating, granted, but with a centre that was pure marshmallow.
An accountant by training, Del had a way with numbers that was mesmerizing. But despite being a numbers guy he could also write, which he did for a time in a weekly opinion column. He began writing because he felt he needed an outlet to unleash some of his 11 billion opinions.
He didn't mind sharing one or 20 of them during a quick chat in his office, the inner sanctum into which only a privileged few felt welcome. Once there, another side of Del emerged -- funny, sensitive, thoughtful, generous, gregarious, a lightning-quick wit. And someone with an inexplicable fondness for the music of Barry Manilow.
Despite health setbacks mostly related to his banged-up hips and knees from years of hockey, Del lived big in his final few years and spared few expenses with his family -- wife Vickie and children Laura, Ben and Amy. You'd almost think someone or something prodded him into taking more time to spend on the finer things because his time might be far shorter than what's considered fair.
Sun-drenched family vacations became more frequent; a Mustang convertible showed up in his parking stall around the time a 60-inch high-def TV with a killer sound system turned the family room into something resembling an attraction at Universal Studios.
Golf was another passion, and the left-hander temporarily slayed the demons of the cruel/glorious game by scoring his only hole-in-one on a picture-perfect evening two summers ago.
Then there was the World Series of Poker, the granddaddy of poker competitions for which he qualified three times.
Nothing he did or accomplished was surprising anymore. The world was his oyster and he was determined to sample as much of it as he could.
When Del was diagnosed with bowel cancer, he had already planned a golf holiday in Nevada and postponed a family trip to Disneyland until Christmas. Off he went, portable chemo pack and all.
Nothing was handed to Del and he could be characterized as the classic underdog throughout his formative years. This only made him try harder, whether in school, sports, work or life.
Del enjoyed sharing the story of graduating with his computer science degree from Simon Fraser University in the early '80s and being offered a job with a small computer startup firm called Microsoft. He turned it down to come home to Prince George with Vickie and in doing so, according to Del, walked away from unimaginable riches.
It didn't matter, because deep down Del knew he already had everything he wanted out of life.
