Remembering John Marlowe

Seven months ago, John Marlowe was doing CrossFit workouts, writing a weekly column for The Paper of Montgomery County and the Noblesville Times and basically enjoying life.

This week, he is dead.

Cancer is an insidious beast.

If he could, John would tell people that his legacy boils down to a few things: He would hope that others would use his passing as a spur to go get their own checkups and if there is cancer, to find it early. He would also likely say that he didn’t accomplish everything he wanted in this life. There’s no “but” after that. He wouldn’t qualify it. That’s just the way he was. Humble? Certainly. Unassuming? Most definitely.

But his legacy is so much more.

Over the last few years, John won more writing awards than anyone else in our company. In the last five years, John won six state-wide writing honors from the Hoosier State Press Association, including three first places. Think about that for a minute. If this were high school basketball, John would have three state championships in five years. Think that’s Hall of Fame material?

But it’s not something he talked about.

For when it came to his accomplishments, John just never said much.

His actions spoke volumes.

John Marlowe was the kind of man and friend you could count on – no matter what. He and I met back in the late ‘70s or early ‘80s – neither one of us could remember the exact date. We tried a couple of times to figure it out and ended up laughing about being old men with bad memories.

The first thing that struck me about him back then was his dad. John was the son of famed sportscaster Chuck Marlowe. IU and Bob Knight fans know the elder Marlowe from IU basketball glory days.

Whereas Chuck was outgoing and could take over a room, John was quiet and laid back. That’s not to say he wasn’t quick with the wit. He absolutely was. A degree from Wabash College proved he was no slouch – and a role on the football team proved he was tough – much tougher than the two-year starter from Cascade High School ever let on.

Actually, he was one of the funniest guys I ever met.

I asked him what position he played in football – and he said “left.”

“Left end?”

“Left out.”

He wasn’t.

We used to play this game where someone would say the name of a song and the object was to name the performing artist. Other than one of John’s very best friends Rocky, he was the best I ever saw at that. He used to joke that when it came to knowledge of unimportant things, he was awfully good.

There’s that meekness again.

From the ’80s to well after the turn of the century, John and I drifted apart. A vagabond newspaper guy, I left the great Hoosier state to work in Texas, North Carolina and California. It wasn’t until after starting the Little Newspaper That Could that I saw him again.

I was working at my desk when I looked up and there stood John. We laughed and hugged and he said that word of our new venture reached him all the way over in Clayton. He just wanted to come by and say hi and wish us well.

That started some long conversations where we were able to catch up and rekindle a lost friendship. It actually brought another good friend along and the three of us laughed and did a lot of remembering over lunch one day. It was there that John said he was still looking for something fulfilling, job wise, I suggested he write for us.

He said no.

Said that he wasn’t that good a writer, that he didn’t have anything worth sharing, that no one would be interested in what he had to say.

Many, many writing awards later, newspaper professionals would disagree. So would readers. John’s columns were always among the most read we offered. When he stopped writing in January of this year because of the cancer – I can’t begin to tell you how many people asked what happened to John. It was the main question I got for weeks. And John wouldn’t let us put anything in about his cancer. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it – even though it was.

Finally, after weeks of bugging him, he finally allowed us to share with you that he had cancer and that prayers were appreciated.

He also wanted – and tried – to write a column. He told me he wanted to tell everyone to go get checked. He said he had annual physicals, but the pandemic . . . that damned pandemic . . . got in the way and he put it off. He wanted others to know not to put theirs off. But John said every time he tried to write it, the words didn’t come. Later, he didn’t have the energy.

John would tell you his legacy wasn’t that much.

But believe me, it was. It was more. So very much more.

-Two cents, which is about how much Timmons said his columns are worth, appears periodically on Wednesdays in The Paper. Timmons is the publisher of The Paper and can be contacted at [email protected].