It’s just too hard to imagine the world without Peter Mackler in it. I was 29 years old when I went to work for Peter at AFP’s Asia Desk in Hong Kong 25 years ago. I had journalism experience but wasn’t so strong in French-to-English translations. Peter never let any weakness or excuses get in the way of constructive criticism. “Hammond,” he would shout out across everyone in the news room high up in the New Mercury House, “why did you bury the lead in the second paragraph on the Vietnam story?” We all learned quickly that he didn’t intend to blast us personally; it was just his way of instructing the whole room at once. Every morning he would read through all the dispatches of the previous 24 hours and any story that was less than perfect in his view was noted for us publicly. But he also had a “Kudos” board where he posted stories that he thought were well done. He was the best mentor I ever had.
Peter’s dedication was amazing. His idea of entertaining his young daughters on a Saturday was to bring them to the office, or at least he felt the obligation to check up on things briefly on the weekends and had them tag along. On one of those occasions, little 3-year-old Lauren was following her dad around the office, saw an interesting button at eye-level on the big computer in the back of the office, and single-handedly shut down all the news coming into and out of the Asia desk. Another time, a typhoon made a middle-of-the-night, direct hit on Hong Kong that disrupted everything, including all public transportation. I was due at work the next morning and was two hours later than my assigned time arriving, having had to hitchhike with few private vehicles on the roads. Peter had spent the night in the office, and was the sole person there, busily editing dispatches when I arrived. “Where is everybody? You’re late,” he said, as he handed me a pile to edit.
We had some major stories in those years: the shooting down of the Korean jetliner, the assassination of Indira Gandhi, the abrupt departure of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos, the settling of terms for Britain’s handover of Hong Kong to China. Those were breaking stories with news coming fast and furious from many bureaus. Peter’s intensity upgraded to a controlled frenzy as he simultaneously directed coverage by the bureaus over the phone and hovered over us as we cobbled the stories together. When we had time, someone would run upstairs to check the Reuter’s wire that happened to be on another floor, so we could see what time they had posted their stories compared to ours. If we had it first, the smile on Peter’s face could light up the room.
My husband, Jim, and I got to know Peter and Catherine socially in Hong Kong, partly due to our both having young children who played together. Over the years, we moved to Brussels and they moved to Paris, and we moved to South Carolina and they moved to Washington, D.C. We stayed in touch, visited back and forth, and vacationed together in a 400-year-old stone farm house in the Dordogne, a semi-tropical beach resort at Kiawah along South Carolina’s coast, and a Blue Ridge mountain retreat in Virginia. Our children, who had competed with Peter to see who could throw rocks the farthest under the Pont du Gard, grew into interesting young adults – a lawyer, a playwright, an artist, a musician. Peter, on those vacations, would combine relaxing with periodic bouts of working on his special, personal projects – helping underpriviledged youth gain life skills through journalism was one for which he was particularly proud.
Peter was a good friend, even from long distances. When my husband had cancer and we traveled to Johns Hopkins University Hospital in Baltimore for his surgery, Peter drove from Washington on a work day to spend the hours with me while Jim was in surgery, and he and Catherine returned again in the days afterward while Jim was recovering. While Peter and I were attempting to ask the hospital receptionist where we could find a cafeteria, she visibly blanched while looking at Peter and stumbled over her words. While I stood there wondering what was wrong, Peter immediately recognized the problem and raced to her rescue saying, “No, I’m not Chuck Norris. I know I look like him, but I’m not him.”
I was privileged to be able to work for Peter and learn from and be inspired by him. I’m honored to have had him as a friend for these many years. Peter is a good guy who has left this world too soon. We will miss him dearly.
-- Elizabeth Hammond
Columbia, South Carolina
USA
(AFP story sign-off - EGH)
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Charles Whelan: A hard-driven professional
I was walking through Safeway supermarket in Bethesda in late March 2002. My wife had just been diagnosed with a serious illness and I was completely at a loss.
My cellphone suddenly rang. It was Peter, calling from Paris."Now this is what you have to do," he said. "First, ring this number in New York. She's a friend and she's the top cancer councellor in the country. After that ...."
Who else but Peter Mackler would respond so quickly and with so much thought and generosity to a colleague's woes. Many people helped me over the next couple of years as Youngju's health failed but I still get a lump in my throat when I think of Peter's voice on the end of that phone call.
I last saw him in Busan, South Korea in winter 2005. He was working at the State Department and had been traveling the world on no food and sleep with with Condy Rice, ending up in Busan for an Asian summit. He looked as tired as can be but still he sat down and hung on in the AFP media centre office for a couple of hours while we finished up the day's file, just so that he could join us for a couple of hours of beers and fellowship.He was a hard-driven professional and loved the cut and thrust of the game. But what distinguished him mostwas his deep well of humanity. The world is a poorer place.
--Charles Whelan
My cellphone suddenly rang. It was Peter, calling from Paris."Now this is what you have to do," he said. "First, ring this number in New York. She's a friend and she's the top cancer councellor in the country. After that ...."
Who else but Peter Mackler would respond so quickly and with so much thought and generosity to a colleague's woes. Many people helped me over the next couple of years as Youngju's health failed but I still get a lump in my throat when I think of Peter's voice on the end of that phone call.
I last saw him in Busan, South Korea in winter 2005. He was working at the State Department and had been traveling the world on no food and sleep with with Condy Rice, ending up in Busan for an Asian summit. He looked as tired as can be but still he sat down and hung on in the AFP media centre office for a couple of hours while we finished up the day's file, just so that he could join us for a couple of hours of beers and fellowship.He was a hard-driven professional and loved the cut and thrust of the game. But what distinguished him mostwas his deep well of humanity. The world is a poorer place.
--Charles Whelan
Rob Woollard: Answer before the question
The only man I've ever met who could give you an answer before you'd even asked the question, I often ended conversations with Peter shaking my head in disbelief, exasperation or admiration -- and quite often a combination of the three. His relentless drive and sheer hunger for news reminded me of why I wanted to be a journalist in the first place.
A whole generation of AFP journalists can thank Peter for helping to build a service which has flourished, allowing many to build rich and varied careers that leave us thinking we are some of the luckiest hacks ever to have picked up a notebook and pen. I know I do.
More than anything else, though, it is his innate decency that I will remember: his having the unfailing habit of always thinking first and foremost of the other person ("Is everything okay? Are you sure? Do you need some time off?"), of living his life to an unwavering set of principles. I never felt that I couldn't talk to him if I had a problem, professional or personal, important or trivial. He would take the time to listen and offer sensible advice as required.Anyone who worked with Peter had disagreements with him from time to time.
For Peter, I suspect, frank exchanges of opinion were a sign of a healthy newsroom -- evidence of the sort of vigorous free-thinking that he encouraged and applauded.I always knew that I could speak openly to him without fear of recrimination, that even if we we disagreed on something, it would be forgotten by the end of the day. That is a very rare, and very human, quality.Hemingway once wrote that the world is a fine place and worth fighting for. Peter made a lot of us feel like that on a daily basis. God bless him.
--Rob Woollard
AFP Los Angeles
A whole generation of AFP journalists can thank Peter for helping to build a service which has flourished, allowing many to build rich and varied careers that leave us thinking we are some of the luckiest hacks ever to have picked up a notebook and pen. I know I do.
More than anything else, though, it is his innate decency that I will remember: his having the unfailing habit of always thinking first and foremost of the other person ("Is everything okay? Are you sure? Do you need some time off?"), of living his life to an unwavering set of principles. I never felt that I couldn't talk to him if I had a problem, professional or personal, important or trivial. He would take the time to listen and offer sensible advice as required.Anyone who worked with Peter had disagreements with him from time to time.
For Peter, I suspect, frank exchanges of opinion were a sign of a healthy newsroom -- evidence of the sort of vigorous free-thinking that he encouraged and applauded.I always knew that I could speak openly to him without fear of recrimination, that even if we we disagreed on something, it would be forgotten by the end of the day. That is a very rare, and very human, quality.Hemingway once wrote that the world is a fine place and worth fighting for. Peter made a lot of us feel like that on a daily basis. God bless him.
--Rob Woollard
AFP Los Angeles
David Millikin: Words fail
This is my third attempt at writing a small remembrance of Peter.
Unlike my more eloquent colleagues, words fail me utterly in trying to describe how important Peter was to me over the 25 years we shared at AFP.
Like so many others, I was one of Peter's hires -- onto the Hong Kong desk in 1983 -- and he remained a trusted mentor and reliable confidant through all the ups and downs of the next two decades, whether we were working in the same bureau or region, or living continents apart.
Others have described perfectly Peter's limitless energy, his wonderful wry humor and his amazing contributions to AFP. For me, more importantly, he was simply the kindest, most trustworthy person I've known and I'm going to miss him terribly.
--David Millikin
Unlike my more eloquent colleagues, words fail me utterly in trying to describe how important Peter was to me over the 25 years we shared at AFP.
Like so many others, I was one of Peter's hires -- onto the Hong Kong desk in 1983 -- and he remained a trusted mentor and reliable confidant through all the ups and downs of the next two decades, whether we were working in the same bureau or region, or living continents apart.
Others have described perfectly Peter's limitless energy, his wonderful wry humor and his amazing contributions to AFP. For me, more importantly, he was simply the kindest, most trustworthy person I've known and I'm going to miss him terribly.
--David Millikin
Phil Chetwynd: Impossibly big-hearted Peter
Over the past two years I usually spoke to Peter every couple of months. The trigger for the conversation was often a banal organisational matter or petty difference between AFP Washington and Hong Kong which could be resolved in a minute, but the talk always roamed wildly over a dizzying array of subjects taking in most of the global issues of the day, often touching on the US elections and always ending around half an hour later with Peter asking about the welfare of your family. He did it every time, and every time I would put the phone down with a broad smile across my face.
Any lingering frustrations were simply blown away by Peter's impossibly big-hearted personality. Typically, one of the last emails he sent to me was to congratulate me on a promotion. The four weeks I spent with Peter in New York in the aftermath of 9/11 were a revelation. I had never seen anybody organise, inspire and drive a team to such heights. He was often totally unreasonable, but he was always brilliant. Story ideas simply flowed out of him, and when his well of inspiration ran dry he managed to coax new ideas out of you which he promptly wrote up on the infamous whiteboard he loved to use for coverage. The results were stunning -- without a doubt he inspired, cajoled or pushed us to produce immeasurably better work. And when it all became too much he was always on hand with a kind word, a suggestion of a day off or an anecdote. Once again, the frustrations melted away and you were left smiling.
I remember one day I had been reporting around Ground Zero and had jumped into a taxi driven by a newly-arrived Indian immigrant hoping to quickly return to the office to file. As I worked on my notes I paid no attention to where we were going and I soon realised were going the wrong way across the Brooklyn Bridge. With a security alert in place on the other side, I was blocked for hours unable to file my story and gripped by mounting panic as I imagined Peter's growing anger. When I finally ran into the office on the edge of tears and told my account Peter roared with laughter. "I love it, a typical New York story." He then immediately took me out to his favourite sandwich bar to show me another side of his beloved city.Peter's death has deprived us of a wonderful human being. We will not forget him.
-- Phil Chetwynd
AFP Asia Editor
Any lingering frustrations were simply blown away by Peter's impossibly big-hearted personality. Typically, one of the last emails he sent to me was to congratulate me on a promotion. The four weeks I spent with Peter in New York in the aftermath of 9/11 were a revelation. I had never seen anybody organise, inspire and drive a team to such heights. He was often totally unreasonable, but he was always brilliant. Story ideas simply flowed out of him, and when his well of inspiration ran dry he managed to coax new ideas out of you which he promptly wrote up on the infamous whiteboard he loved to use for coverage. The results were stunning -- without a doubt he inspired, cajoled or pushed us to produce immeasurably better work. And when it all became too much he was always on hand with a kind word, a suggestion of a day off or an anecdote. Once again, the frustrations melted away and you were left smiling.
I remember one day I had been reporting around Ground Zero and had jumped into a taxi driven by a newly-arrived Indian immigrant hoping to quickly return to the office to file. As I worked on my notes I paid no attention to where we were going and I soon realised were going the wrong way across the Brooklyn Bridge. With a security alert in place on the other side, I was blocked for hours unable to file my story and gripped by mounting panic as I imagined Peter's growing anger. When I finally ran into the office on the edge of tears and told my account Peter roared with laughter. "I love it, a typical New York story." He then immediately took me out to his favourite sandwich bar to show me another side of his beloved city.Peter's death has deprived us of a wonderful human being. We will not forget him.
-- Phil Chetwynd
AFP Asia Editor
Jean-Louis Doublet: We never made it to Nathan's on Coney Island
Peter as a jounalist was top-notch but it's his qualities as a man that I am going to miss most.
His quest always to get the most accurate information on the wires as fast possible was sometimes exhausting but as so many here have said, he was pretty much always right in his calls. He had a wonderful sense of self-deprecation and always enjoyed to tell the story about when he called Joan of Arc "the little flea" in the copy. As a young journalist with the English desk in Paris, he had to translate the French word "pucelle" and rather than looking in the dictionnary, he went for what seemed to him the most obvious.
It is may be the only story he ever wrote that had to be corrected and he from then on used it as a "never assume anything" example to his colleagues. I am thinking today of our colleague Graham Brown, to whom he showed tremendous support and love in time of illness. So Long Peter, sorry we'll never make it to Nathan's in Coney Island.
--Jean-Louis Doublet
AFP Paris
His quest always to get the most accurate information on the wires as fast possible was sometimes exhausting but as so many here have said, he was pretty much always right in his calls. He had a wonderful sense of self-deprecation and always enjoyed to tell the story about when he called Joan of Arc "the little flea" in the copy. As a young journalist with the English desk in Paris, he had to translate the French word "pucelle" and rather than looking in the dictionnary, he went for what seemed to him the most obvious.
It is may be the only story he ever wrote that had to be corrected and he from then on used it as a "never assume anything" example to his colleagues. I am thinking today of our colleague Graham Brown, to whom he showed tremendous support and love in time of illness. So Long Peter, sorry we'll never make it to Nathan's in Coney Island.
--Jean-Louis Doublet
AFP Paris
Corinne Suissa: My daughter's honorary godfather
It is with great sadness that I have learned of Peter's passing. I have been very fortunate to have known him during the 15+ years I have spent at AFP Washington. Peter has been praised as a great journalist, dedicated to his work and to AFP, but to me he is simply my daughter's "honorary godfather", as he liked to call himself.
Contrary to what my doctor thought, Leah decided to make her entrance earlier than planned. I was in the office and when I realized what was happening, I decided to say goodbye to everyone while waiting for a colleague to take a cab with me to the hospital. When I told Peter I was not just starting my maternity leave but actually going to the hospital to have my baby, he insisted to take me himself. Before I could say anything, he grabbed his briefcase and rushed downstairs to get his car. Once at the hospital, Peter wouldn't leave me and waited patiently until my husband arrived. He might have been my boss, but to him, it was the most natural thing to do.Peter left the Washington office for a while, and when he returned, his first question was "how's my honorary goddaughter?"
And for me, that was Peter, one of the most compassionate, caring human beings I know. For a while, Peter sat in front of me and I was moved every time when, no matter how busy he was, he always took time to answer his wife's or his daughters' calls. He was very proud of his girls' accomplishments and I valued his advice on raising a strong-willed daughter!
So when everyone else shares their "war" stories about Peter, for me, it was a baby story. My thoughts are with his family.
--Corinne Suissa
Contrary to what my doctor thought, Leah decided to make her entrance earlier than planned. I was in the office and when I realized what was happening, I decided to say goodbye to everyone while waiting for a colleague to take a cab with me to the hospital. When I told Peter I was not just starting my maternity leave but actually going to the hospital to have my baby, he insisted to take me himself. Before I could say anything, he grabbed his briefcase and rushed downstairs to get his car. Once at the hospital, Peter wouldn't leave me and waited patiently until my husband arrived. He might have been my boss, but to him, it was the most natural thing to do.Peter left the Washington office for a while, and when he returned, his first question was "how's my honorary goddaughter?"
And for me, that was Peter, one of the most compassionate, caring human beings I know. For a while, Peter sat in front of me and I was moved every time when, no matter how busy he was, he always took time to answer his wife's or his daughters' calls. He was very proud of his girls' accomplishments and I valued his advice on raising a strong-willed daughter!
So when everyone else shares their "war" stories about Peter, for me, it was a baby story. My thoughts are with his family.
--Corinne Suissa
Karin Zeitvogel: Disbelief
On the afternoon of Friday, June 20, AFP lost one of the biggest hearts in the agency: Peter Mackler suffered a massive heart attack and died in hospital, his wife by his side.
The week wasn't supposed to end this way. Summer wasn't supposed to begin this way.
When Christophe Vogt called us all together the first time, it was about 4 pm. Peter had suffered a 'malaise' and been taken to hospital, Christophe said when we had all gathered round outside Peter's office. I only picked up snippets of the rest of what he told us afterwards, my mind struggling to understand how the colleague, the boss, the friend who the day before had tried to ease my fears over my own medical problems and with whom I had swapped a joke hours earlier could have been plunged so suddenly into suffering.
When, just a few hours later, Christophe called us all back to the place where we gather every morning at 8:30 for our editorial meeting -- the editorial meeting that we all silently loathe, but which we couldn't do without -- I knew the news was not going to be good. Because you wouldn't call a second meeting so soon after the first, just to say, "He's OK, chaps."
Peter had died in hospital. That was all I heard. People huddled in small groups, gazed blankly at spots on the drab carpet and tried to understand. I walked over to my desk and lifted the phone and called a close friend -- someone I had met thanks to Peter, who had suggested I cover a particular event. I babbled something about my boss having died suddenly and not to expect me to be my normal self for awhile. A night, the weekend, an entire week, who could tell.
The conversation seemed senseless, but I had to make that phone call. And it was only long after I had hung up that I realized why. Peter's sudden death made me realize how fragile life was, how important it was to live each day to the full and happily, and how we should never put off telling those we love that we love them.
I phoned back and told my friend I loved him.
When I got home, I had to break the news to my son, Luca. Luca loved Peter. Each time I brought Luca into the office, whether by plan, when I couldn't find a babysitter, or accident, when the babysitter cancelled at the last minute, Peter would welcome him, call him into his office, jokingly ask him what story he was working on as Luca played computer games.
Tears spilled down Luca's cheeks when he heard the news. Peter could never be replaced, he said with the wisdom of his 10 years. Was there any way he could be brought back, Luca asked. What would AFP do with Peter's desk? How could we walk past his office and look in at the emptiness.
Kids ask these questions, and we adults have trouble replying.
Another night, he (my son) was in bed, and I went up to turn off the lights. He said, "I'm just finishing my prayers." So I let him get on with it. After a brief silence, he said," I'm praying for Peter." So again, I let him get on with it. And eventually, I asked, "What are you praying for Peter?" and he said, "That he's an angel."
I think I had done a story that very day about how Americans believe fervently in the power of prayer. And Peter nicknamed me Bernadette when I was covering the pope's visit and living, eating (well, ok, I had more than rice communion wafers) and breathing Catholicism and papal pomp. I'm sure he is an angel, even if he's cracking some great jokes with George Carlin.
Peter had a big heart, a sharp wit, and a zest for life. He was dedicated to his family, to his profession, to the art and ethics of journalism, and he shared his love and energy with everyone he met.
When he came under fire from union groups in France for a company he had founded to help train journalists, you could see the hurt on his face. Tongues wagged, people bitched, Peter grabbed the bull by the horns and put out a statement explaining exactly where he stood and what was going on. He wasn't dipping into any coffers to fatten his wallet. There was no conflict of interest with AFP.
I know there are people out there who can't get a handle on altruism, but there are others, like Peter, who can and do and who work selflessly for a cause they believe in. When this was all blowing up, I dropped Peter a brief message to say I stood behind him, and if there was anything I could do -- start a petition to silence his attackers, maybe? -- I would.
He came over to my desk, tucked away in a corner, and thanked me.
When I returned to Washington from coverning the papal visit, spouting psalms and humming hymns, he said I would have to go through retoxification.
He was full of little anecdotes about life that he would build and build and build on, to finally reach a punchline that would have everyone who was listening fall about in laughter.
Yes, we would bitch in the bureau about the morning meetings or when Peter would assign us a story we didn't really want to do, but you could bitch to Peter's face, and he would bitch back at you, and in the end -- you would do the story. And do it the way he had asked you to.
And when you did it, he would be the first to heap praise on you.
I am thankful for having worked with Peter and even more thankful that the last conversation we had ended in laughter. Peter has taken his wit, his warmth and his huge heart up to a corner in heaven reserved for those who did much to advance humanity during their time on earth. His time was too short; he had so much left to give.
I'll miss you, Peter. Luca misses you. I know the entire bureau misses you. Even friends of mine who have never met you, miss you. We are all privileged to have been touched by you during your time on earth.
When I'm struggling to find that killer lead, I'll look up from my corner at AFP to your corner in heaven for inspiration, and I know you'll deliver. We'll keep the stories alive for you, Peter, but more importantly, we'll keep your story and legacy alive.
-- Karin Zeitvogel
The week wasn't supposed to end this way. Summer wasn't supposed to begin this way.
When Christophe Vogt called us all together the first time, it was about 4 pm. Peter had suffered a 'malaise' and been taken to hospital, Christophe said when we had all gathered round outside Peter's office. I only picked up snippets of the rest of what he told us afterwards, my mind struggling to understand how the colleague, the boss, the friend who the day before had tried to ease my fears over my own medical problems and with whom I had swapped a joke hours earlier could have been plunged so suddenly into suffering.
When, just a few hours later, Christophe called us all back to the place where we gather every morning at 8:30 for our editorial meeting -- the editorial meeting that we all silently loathe, but which we couldn't do without -- I knew the news was not going to be good. Because you wouldn't call a second meeting so soon after the first, just to say, "He's OK, chaps."
Peter had died in hospital. That was all I heard. People huddled in small groups, gazed blankly at spots on the drab carpet and tried to understand. I walked over to my desk and lifted the phone and called a close friend -- someone I had met thanks to Peter, who had suggested I cover a particular event. I babbled something about my boss having died suddenly and not to expect me to be my normal self for awhile. A night, the weekend, an entire week, who could tell.
The conversation seemed senseless, but I had to make that phone call. And it was only long after I had hung up that I realized why. Peter's sudden death made me realize how fragile life was, how important it was to live each day to the full and happily, and how we should never put off telling those we love that we love them.
I phoned back and told my friend I loved him.
When I got home, I had to break the news to my son, Luca. Luca loved Peter. Each time I brought Luca into the office, whether by plan, when I couldn't find a babysitter, or accident, when the babysitter cancelled at the last minute, Peter would welcome him, call him into his office, jokingly ask him what story he was working on as Luca played computer games.
Tears spilled down Luca's cheeks when he heard the news. Peter could never be replaced, he said with the wisdom of his 10 years. Was there any way he could be brought back, Luca asked. What would AFP do with Peter's desk? How could we walk past his office and look in at the emptiness.
Kids ask these questions, and we adults have trouble replying.
Another night, he (my son) was in bed, and I went up to turn off the lights. He said, "I'm just finishing my prayers." So I let him get on with it. After a brief silence, he said," I'm praying for Peter." So again, I let him get on with it. And eventually, I asked, "What are you praying for Peter?" and he said, "That he's an angel."
I think I had done a story that very day about how Americans believe fervently in the power of prayer. And Peter nicknamed me Bernadette when I was covering the pope's visit and living, eating (well, ok, I had more than rice communion wafers) and breathing Catholicism and papal pomp. I'm sure he is an angel, even if he's cracking some great jokes with George Carlin.
Peter had a big heart, a sharp wit, and a zest for life. He was dedicated to his family, to his profession, to the art and ethics of journalism, and he shared his love and energy with everyone he met.
When he came under fire from union groups in France for a company he had founded to help train journalists, you could see the hurt on his face. Tongues wagged, people bitched, Peter grabbed the bull by the horns and put out a statement explaining exactly where he stood and what was going on. He wasn't dipping into any coffers to fatten his wallet. There was no conflict of interest with AFP.
I know there are people out there who can't get a handle on altruism, but there are others, like Peter, who can and do and who work selflessly for a cause they believe in. When this was all blowing up, I dropped Peter a brief message to say I stood behind him, and if there was anything I could do -- start a petition to silence his attackers, maybe? -- I would.
He came over to my desk, tucked away in a corner, and thanked me.
When I returned to Washington from coverning the papal visit, spouting psalms and humming hymns, he said I would have to go through retoxification.
He was full of little anecdotes about life that he would build and build and build on, to finally reach a punchline that would have everyone who was listening fall about in laughter.
Yes, we would bitch in the bureau about the morning meetings or when Peter would assign us a story we didn't really want to do, but you could bitch to Peter's face, and he would bitch back at you, and in the end -- you would do the story. And do it the way he had asked you to.
And when you did it, he would be the first to heap praise on you.
I am thankful for having worked with Peter and even more thankful that the last conversation we had ended in laughter. Peter has taken his wit, his warmth and his huge heart up to a corner in heaven reserved for those who did much to advance humanity during their time on earth. His time was too short; he had so much left to give.
I'll miss you, Peter. Luca misses you. I know the entire bureau misses you. Even friends of mine who have never met you, miss you. We are all privileged to have been touched by you during your time on earth.
When I'm struggling to find that killer lead, I'll look up from my corner at AFP to your corner in heaven for inspiration, and I know you'll deliver. We'll keep the stories alive for you, Peter, but more importantly, we'll keep your story and legacy alive.
-- Karin Zeitvogel
Friday, June 27, 2008
Joshua Kaufman: Peter, my friend
I have been AFP’s attorney in the United States for over 20 years.One of the first people that I met at AFP was Peter.
I believe he was off on some assignment, in some remote corner of the world and I need an affidavit and he managed to provide it to me. Somehow, in the middle of the night, in some remote place, he found finding a notary and fax machine. He was always so reliable and resourceful.
But what I enjoyed most was just the time we spent talking about politics, family, life, movies, whatever, in between our lawyerly conversations. Peter was always witty, erudite and insightful. I also enjoyed working with him on his Duke Ellington High School project, which gave him such pleasure. I will sorely miss Peter, my client, but most of all, my friend.
-- Joshua Kaufman
Matt Lee: A decade of friendship
For the past decade, Peter Mackler, his underdog work ethic, enormous energy, fierce competitiveness and intense dedication to friends and family have been near constants in my life. Through all that time, even after I left AFP, I have felt his presence.Peter hired me on the Washington desk in 1998. He was then key to my move to the State Department, a job he had created. He replaced me there six years later when I left for Kenya. A year and a half ago, he asked me to come back to DC for the current presidential campaign.
Peter was a task-master, to be sure, but a consummate professional brimming with enthusiasm, optimism and encouragement. His leadership was instrumental in advancing my reporting career and that of many others. When I was a manager, I looked to Peter’s example to inspire.He was always on top of the story, quick with the sharp angle and necessary context.
And he loved to be first. When I arrived in Kenya, my new home, Peter was already there. I got off the plane on that January night in 2006 and there was a message waiting for me. It was from Peter. He had landed several hours earlier with Colin Powell. “Come join us for a drink,” he said. And thus, before seeing my new office and co-workers, finding my lost luggage or even settling into my hotel, I reported for duty, answering his summons to the bar at the Nairobi Intercontinental. Maybe you know the one, the big grey building just off Uhuru Highway near Jomo Kenyatta’s tomb. Peter certainly did: he gave me directions.“Welcome to Nairobi,” he said when I walked through the door.
That was the thing. He seemed at home everywhere. You could run into him in Paris, Delhi, Singapore, Sydney, Cairo or Kuwait City and not think twice about it. I remember seeing him once in Jerusalem and wondering where in the world he couldn’t be found.
Peter’s sudden passing has robbed us of a great mentor, friend and colleague but his legacy will remain.
Godspeed…
-- Matt Lee
Peter was a task-master, to be sure, but a consummate professional brimming with enthusiasm, optimism and encouragement. His leadership was instrumental in advancing my reporting career and that of many others. When I was a manager, I looked to Peter’s example to inspire.He was always on top of the story, quick with the sharp angle and necessary context.
And he loved to be first. When I arrived in Kenya, my new home, Peter was already there. I got off the plane on that January night in 2006 and there was a message waiting for me. It was from Peter. He had landed several hours earlier with Colin Powell. “Come join us for a drink,” he said. And thus, before seeing my new office and co-workers, finding my lost luggage or even settling into my hotel, I reported for duty, answering his summons to the bar at the Nairobi Intercontinental. Maybe you know the one, the big grey building just off Uhuru Highway near Jomo Kenyatta’s tomb. Peter certainly did: he gave me directions.“Welcome to Nairobi,” he said when I walked through the door.
That was the thing. He seemed at home everywhere. You could run into him in Paris, Delhi, Singapore, Sydney, Cairo or Kuwait City and not think twice about it. I remember seeing him once in Jerusalem and wondering where in the world he couldn’t be found.
Peter’s sudden passing has robbed us of a great mentor, friend and colleague but his legacy will remain.
Godspeed…
-- Matt Lee
Thursday, June 26, 2008
James Rosen: Peter left mark with passion, humor
Peter Mackler was a beautiful human being.
He exuded -- at all times, even under the stress of world travel and tight deadlines -- wisdom, patience, tolerance, supreme understanding of the frailties and failings of his fellow human beings, a passion for teaching, and, above all, humor. We shared the unique perspective on the world that comes with having been born in Brooklyn and together enjoyed many exciting stories and hearty chuckles in our travels with Secretary of State Rice.
I can remember showing Peter the transcript of my first interview with Secretary Rice, on a bus departing Paris in February 2005, and his alerting this newcomer to the State Department beat to the newsworthiness of a particular exchange in the transcript about nuclear diplomacy with Iran; soon, all three wire services were carrying the story and Secretary Rice, pressed about the exchange by NBC News' Andrea Mitchell during out next stop, in Brussels, hastily retreated from her remarks.
Glenn Kessler also reported on this in his excellent biography of Secretary Rice. It was, perhaps, the secretary's first rookie mistake as the United States' top diplomat, and notice of it might never have been taken had it not been for Peter's kindly and discreet counsel.
I can remember another occasion where he privately commended me for standing up to a bully during a heated conversation in a hotel bar; that was when I learned for the first time about Peter's background in psychology.
And then there is my favorite Peter Mackler story. We were talking about our shared passion for the music of the Sixties, and eventually got around to Crosby Stills & Nash. "Oh, my God," he said, rolling his eyes. "They are the reason I left the West Coast!" "What are you talking about?" I asked. He recounted a long-ago experience -- during what was, we might say with some delicacy, both for Peter and many others an age of experimentation -- when he found himself in a Bay-area crash pad with a bunch of hippies and ardent Grateful Dead fans. At the time, he told me, he didn't know all that much about the Dead; and when the assembled turned to him and asked, in a way that kind of put him on the spot, which rock group was his favorite, he replied innocently: "Well, I like Crosby Stills & Nash." In unison, the hippies all groaned, with the same contempt that a later generation of rock snobs reserved for the likes of Barry Manilow and Neil Diamond. "What?" he asked, crestfallen and unable to understand the negative reaction his answer had engendered. But the damage had been done. The vibe in the room was bad and irreversible. It was such a shattering experience, Peter told me, heightened by the effects of certain ingredients in the mix at the moment, that he came to the realization that the West Coast hippie scene was not for him and he shortly thereafter made arrangements to return to New York. "Why didn't you just tell them, I replied, "that Jerry Garcia contributed the guitar licks on 'Teach Your Children'?" "Where were you when I needed you?" he shot back.
Thereafter, we seldom saw each other without working Crosby Stills & Nash into the conversation. I am so sorry for Peter's wife and daughters, whom I never met, but I know in time the joy they took in knowing and loving their husband and father will exceed the pain and grief visited upon them by losing him far too soon.
-- James Rosen
Fox News Washington Correspondent
He exuded -- at all times, even under the stress of world travel and tight deadlines -- wisdom, patience, tolerance, supreme understanding of the frailties and failings of his fellow human beings, a passion for teaching, and, above all, humor. We shared the unique perspective on the world that comes with having been born in Brooklyn and together enjoyed many exciting stories and hearty chuckles in our travels with Secretary of State Rice.
I can remember showing Peter the transcript of my first interview with Secretary Rice, on a bus departing Paris in February 2005, and his alerting this newcomer to the State Department beat to the newsworthiness of a particular exchange in the transcript about nuclear diplomacy with Iran; soon, all three wire services were carrying the story and Secretary Rice, pressed about the exchange by NBC News' Andrea Mitchell during out next stop, in Brussels, hastily retreated from her remarks.
Glenn Kessler also reported on this in his excellent biography of Secretary Rice. It was, perhaps, the secretary's first rookie mistake as the United States' top diplomat, and notice of it might never have been taken had it not been for Peter's kindly and discreet counsel.
I can remember another occasion where he privately commended me for standing up to a bully during a heated conversation in a hotel bar; that was when I learned for the first time about Peter's background in psychology.
And then there is my favorite Peter Mackler story. We were talking about our shared passion for the music of the Sixties, and eventually got around to Crosby Stills & Nash. "Oh, my God," he said, rolling his eyes. "They are the reason I left the West Coast!" "What are you talking about?" I asked. He recounted a long-ago experience -- during what was, we might say with some delicacy, both for Peter and many others an age of experimentation -- when he found himself in a Bay-area crash pad with a bunch of hippies and ardent Grateful Dead fans. At the time, he told me, he didn't know all that much about the Dead; and when the assembled turned to him and asked, in a way that kind of put him on the spot, which rock group was his favorite, he replied innocently: "Well, I like Crosby Stills & Nash." In unison, the hippies all groaned, with the same contempt that a later generation of rock snobs reserved for the likes of Barry Manilow and Neil Diamond. "What?" he asked, crestfallen and unable to understand the negative reaction his answer had engendered. But the damage had been done. The vibe in the room was bad and irreversible. It was such a shattering experience, Peter told me, heightened by the effects of certain ingredients in the mix at the moment, that he came to the realization that the West Coast hippie scene was not for him and he shortly thereafter made arrangements to return to New York. "Why didn't you just tell them, I replied, "that Jerry Garcia contributed the guitar licks on 'Teach Your Children'?" "Where were you when I needed you?" he shot back.
Thereafter, we seldom saw each other without working Crosby Stills & Nash into the conversation. I am so sorry for Peter's wife and daughters, whom I never met, but I know in time the joy they took in knowing and loving their husband and father will exceed the pain and grief visited upon them by losing him far too soon.
-- James Rosen
Fox News Washington Correspondent
Martin Bennitt: Wish I'd known him better
Before writing this I dug out from my archives a note, dated October 23, 1987, signed by Peter and thanking me for my efforts during a particularly tough couple of weeks. It was gratifying at the time, and pleasant to re-read – then I noticed he had also copied it to two people higher up the scale.
More than just a friendly note, but a small rung in the ladder of my career at AFP, and typical of Peter's relations with his colleagues.
I wish I had seen more of him, but paradoxically it was probably because of Peter that I didn't, as with his support I moved from Paris to other postings. But our paths frequently crossed, as Peter always seemed to be everywhere at once, not least during the Iraq war when I was in Nicosia and Peter was up at the sharp end. No one who was in the region at the time will forget it.
Two personal memories: we had not long been in our new home and were holding an open house. Few people felt like trekking out to the sticks from Paris, so the gathering was mainly local friends and neighbours. Then the door bell rang – Peter of course, bearing a suitable gift. Knowing no one else present did not faze him a bit: 'Hi, I'm Peter Mackler' – a bit startling to some of the stuffier French and Brits, but Peter had the facility of warming up the coldest company, wakening up the weariest editor, inspiring the most cynical hack.
The second memory was when he happened to be in Nicosia on a public holiday. We went out to look for a drink on a hot afternoon, but everywhere was closed. I was a bit embarrassed, but we just walked, and talked, and walked, and talked, and for me it was more refreshing than any drink we might have had.
Peter is irreplaceable, but he will live on in all our memories, while for his colleagues there will be only one question when things get tough: what would Peter have done?
-- Martin Bennitt
More than just a friendly note, but a small rung in the ladder of my career at AFP, and typical of Peter's relations with his colleagues.
I wish I had seen more of him, but paradoxically it was probably because of Peter that I didn't, as with his support I moved from Paris to other postings. But our paths frequently crossed, as Peter always seemed to be everywhere at once, not least during the Iraq war when I was in Nicosia and Peter was up at the sharp end. No one who was in the region at the time will forget it.
Two personal memories: we had not long been in our new home and were holding an open house. Few people felt like trekking out to the sticks from Paris, so the gathering was mainly local friends and neighbours. Then the door bell rang – Peter of course, bearing a suitable gift. Knowing no one else present did not faze him a bit: 'Hi, I'm Peter Mackler' – a bit startling to some of the stuffier French and Brits, but Peter had the facility of warming up the coldest company, wakening up the weariest editor, inspiring the most cynical hack.
The second memory was when he happened to be in Nicosia on a public holiday. We went out to look for a drink on a hot afternoon, but everywhere was closed. I was a bit embarrassed, but we just walked, and talked, and walked, and talked, and for me it was more refreshing than any drink we might have had.
Peter is irreplaceable, but he will live on in all our memories, while for his colleagues there will be only one question when things get tough: what would Peter have done?
-- Martin Bennitt
Clarens Renois: Peter made an impression in Haiti
Clarens Renois chief of AFP bureau in Port-au-Prince, Haiti I have met Peter twice. First at Port-au-Prince, Haïti, He came to give his support to AFP's new office. He found enough time to teach journalism and share his experience to young Haitians for one hour. It was so great from him. He was a generous man. But his short visit were a great opportunity for my son (Kevin) to meet him. He will never forget.The second time that I met Peter was in Washington he invited me to meet other colleagues. I have kept good souvenirs of this man, and I saw him as a model in journalism and I wished to follow his path. Here is a short word written by my son (Kevin) for Peter:
Loss of a great man
Peter and I became friends, when my father introduced him to me as his colleague at AFP.
With Peter, I had my first adult conversation at 12.
And I saw that he was different from most people.
He had interesting stories to tell.
I listened to them carefully.
Peter was a great man and I am very sorry for the loss of such a man's life.
He had experienced much and I am certain he's now in a better place.
My condolences to his wife and his daughters.
Peter will be greatly missed. (Kevin Renois)
-- Clarens Renois chief of AFP bureau, Port-au-Prince, Haiti
Loss of a great man
Peter and I became friends, when my father introduced him to me as his colleague at AFP.
With Peter, I had my first adult conversation at 12.
And I saw that he was different from most people.
He had interesting stories to tell.
I listened to them carefully.
Peter was a great man and I am very sorry for the loss of such a man's life.
He had experienced much and I am certain he's now in a better place.
My condolences to his wife and his daughters.
Peter will be greatly missed. (Kevin Renois)
-- Clarens Renois chief of AFP bureau, Port-au-Prince, Haiti
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
AFP: Award in honor of late AFP chief editor Peter Mackler
US-media-AFP-award
Award in honor of late AFP chief editor Peter Mackler
WASHINGTON, June 25, 2008 (AFP) - An award for journalists working in countries where press freedom is under attack is to be set up to honor Peter Mackler, the late AFP North America chief editor, his family said Wednesday.
Mackler, a 30-year veteran of Agence France-Presse who covered wars and elections and was key in transforming the agency's English language service, died of a sudden heart attack on Friday. He was 58.
The award will honor journalists who through their work have shown the highest ethical standards and defended freedom of information, according to Reporters Without Borders (RSF), the watchdog which will administer the award.
Mackler died after suffering a heart attack at work in Washington, where he had served as AFP's chief editor for North America since 2006.
A native of New York who spoke fluent French, Mackler joined AFP in the United States in September 1979 after starting his journalism career at rival agency UPI.
Over his nearly 30-year career at AFP, the indefatigable journalist played a key role in developing the multilingual agency's English service from Paris to the Middle East and Hong Kong.
As a reporter or editor, he wrote and oversaw stories that have defined recent history: from the Gulf War in 1991 to the September 11 terrorist attacks in New York and George W. Bush's presidency. He was also key in helping organize coverage for the 2003 US-led invasion of Iraq.
In the past year, he steered the Washington bureau's coverage of the marathon presidential nomination race with vigor in the face of intense competition from rival news agencies.
Donations can be sent to the Peter Mackler Fund at the US branch of Reporters Without Borders. Details are available via e-mail by writing to lucie.morillon@rsf.org.
Award in honor of late AFP chief editor Peter Mackler
WASHINGTON, June 25, 2008 (AFP) - An award for journalists working in countries where press freedom is under attack is to be set up to honor Peter Mackler, the late AFP North America chief editor, his family said Wednesday.
Mackler, a 30-year veteran of Agence France-Presse who covered wars and elections and was key in transforming the agency's English language service, died of a sudden heart attack on Friday. He was 58.
The award will honor journalists who through their work have shown the highest ethical standards and defended freedom of information, according to Reporters Without Borders (RSF), the watchdog which will administer the award.
Mackler died after suffering a heart attack at work in Washington, where he had served as AFP's chief editor for North America since 2006.
A native of New York who spoke fluent French, Mackler joined AFP in the United States in September 1979 after starting his journalism career at rival agency UPI.
Over his nearly 30-year career at AFP, the indefatigable journalist played a key role in developing the multilingual agency's English service from Paris to the Middle East and Hong Kong.
As a reporter or editor, he wrote and oversaw stories that have defined recent history: from the Gulf War in 1991 to the September 11 terrorist attacks in New York and George W. Bush's presidency. He was also key in helping organize coverage for the 2003 US-led invasion of Iraq.
In the past year, he steered the Washington bureau's coverage of the marathon presidential nomination race with vigor in the face of intense competition from rival news agencies.
Donations can be sent to the Peter Mackler Fund at the US branch of Reporters Without Borders. Details are available via e-mail by writing to lucie.morillon@rsf.org.
French Foreign Ministry Statement: Peter Mackler was a deeply committed journalist
Via Agence France-Presse, Paris deputy editor-in-chief David Williams
PARIS, June 25, 2008
A French foreign ministry spokeswoman paid tribute to Peter Mackler at the start of an online press briefing on Wednesday.
Here is the statement by Pascale Andreani, spokeswoman at the Quai d'Orsay:
"We were deeply shocked to hear about the sudden death of Mr. Peter Mackler, editor-in-chief for North America at the Agence France-Presse office in Washington."
"Peter Mackler will be remembered as a great professional, deeply committed to AFP and to Franco-American relations. This is how we will remember him. AFP and all of the French press have lost an irreplacable friend."
"We share in the grief of his wife, his daughters and his friends at AFP in Washington and Paris, to whom we extend our most sincere condolences."
(Original French language version)
PARIS, 25/06/2008
Voici déclaration faite ce jour sur le décès de Peter Mackler par la porte-parole du Quai d'Orsay, Pascale Andréani, au début de son briefing électronique.
DECES DE M. PETER MACKLER, REDACTEUR EN CHEF POUR L’AMERIQUE DU NORD AU BUREAU DE L'AFP A WASHINGTON
C'est avec une forte émotion que nous avons appris la disparition brutale de M. Peter Mackler, rédacteur en chef pour l’Amérique du nord au bureau de l'Agence France-Presse à Washington.
Peter Mackler laissera derrière lui la mémoire d'un grand professionnel, profondément attaché à l'AFP et aux relations franco-américaines. C'est le souvenir que nous en garderons. L'AFP et la presse française ont perdu un ami irremplaçable.
Nous partageons la douleur de sa femme, de ses filles et de ses amis du bureau de l'AFP à Washington et à Paris à qui nous transmettons nos très sincères condoléances.
PARIS, June 25, 2008
A French foreign ministry spokeswoman paid tribute to Peter Mackler at the start of an online press briefing on Wednesday.
Here is the statement by Pascale Andreani, spokeswoman at the Quai d'Orsay:
"We were deeply shocked to hear about the sudden death of Mr. Peter Mackler, editor-in-chief for North America at the Agence France-Presse office in Washington."
"Peter Mackler will be remembered as a great professional, deeply committed to AFP and to Franco-American relations. This is how we will remember him. AFP and all of the French press have lost an irreplacable friend."
"We share in the grief of his wife, his daughters and his friends at AFP in Washington and Paris, to whom we extend our most sincere condolences."
(Original French language version)
PARIS, 25/06/2008
Voici déclaration faite ce jour sur le décès de Peter Mackler par la porte-parole du Quai d'Orsay, Pascale Andréani, au début de son briefing électronique.
DECES DE M. PETER MACKLER, REDACTEUR EN CHEF POUR L’AMERIQUE DU NORD AU BUREAU DE L'AFP A WASHINGTON
C'est avec une forte émotion que nous avons appris la disparition brutale de M. Peter Mackler, rédacteur en chef pour l’Amérique du nord au bureau de l'Agence France-Presse à Washington.
Peter Mackler laissera derrière lui la mémoire d'un grand professionnel, profondément attaché à l'AFP et aux relations franco-américaines. C'est le souvenir que nous en garderons. L'AFP et la presse française ont perdu un ami irremplaçable.
Nous partageons la douleur de sa femme, de ses filles et de ses amis du bureau de l'AFP à Washington et à Paris à qui nous transmettons nos très sincères condoléances.
James Hammond: Never too busy for friends
I have to put in a word for my experience with Peter as I post all these other wonderful memories.
In 1999, I was in the hospital at Johns Hopkins University medical center for cancer treatment. Peter took the time to drive up to Baltimore from Washington on a work day to sit with my wife Elizabeth for several hours while I was in the operating room. He had been there the night before to take us to dinner. (We went to a lovely steak house, but I could only eat clear broth!) Later he and Catherine returned to visit us in Baltimore.
Elizabeth worked for Peter in Hong Kong, our children were regular playmates and friends, and we have known them for 25 years, keeping in touch no matter where we were on the planet. I cannot believe that I will never get another phone call from Peter to inquire about some event in our lives, or just to say hello. I will miss him.
-- James T. Hammond
In 1999, I was in the hospital at Johns Hopkins University medical center for cancer treatment. Peter took the time to drive up to Baltimore from Washington on a work day to sit with my wife Elizabeth for several hours while I was in the operating room. He had been there the night before to take us to dinner. (We went to a lovely steak house, but I could only eat clear broth!) Later he and Catherine returned to visit us in Baltimore.
Elizabeth worked for Peter in Hong Kong, our children were regular playmates and friends, and we have known them for 25 years, keeping in touch no matter where we were on the planet. I cannot believe that I will never get another phone call from Peter to inquire about some event in our lives, or just to say hello. I will miss him.
-- James T. Hammond
Nancy Shields: Testament to a special man
I finally braved reading this blog tonight. It's hard to write a tribute when the screen blurs over from tears.
Bravo to James for creating such a precious legacy for Peter's daughters, a testament to a special man. That's what I want to write about -- the guy outside of work, who was more than a fabulous journalist. I met Peter my first weeks at AFP in 1980. I was briefly intimidated until I saw that heart of gold shine through and a quick repartee arose tapping an old US rivalry -- our home states, New York vs. New Jersey, the guy from Brooklyn and the Jersey girl. When news was slow Peter got fidgety.
"You are such a New Yorker! Calm down," I once teased. He stood still, thrust out his arm and shot back with what became a standing joke: "Alright Jersey girl, look at this hand, steady as steel." And he was. He was the Brooklyn Bridge, a solid expanse of optimism ready to help you across troubled waters and keep you focussed on that magical skyline waiting on the other side -- as once he did for me. Years ago we went to see "It's a Beautiful Life," the Italian film set in a Nazi concentration camp. When the lights came on, I was choked up fighting tears but Peter was smiling broadly. "Wasn't that a great film? The love of that father." That was quintessential Peter, the guy -- like the man in the film -- who could distill the best even from tragedy, the "papa poule" who'd do anything for his children, the husband still so in love he softened when Catherine spoke.
When I was in Washington last year, he asked for a private session to learn the new AFP interface. He absorbed all in five minutes then said, "Enough, now let's get down to the real stuff" -- which meant chatting about our respective kids, our lives, our adventures, Peter cracking jokes throughout. You can't talk about Peter without talking about Catherine. Peter was quickly smitten with this young French girl -- and he was unequivocal. He actually talked authorities into breaking down her apartment door when they were dating in New York City. He hadn't heard from her and was certain something horrible had happened -- which it hadn't. "Jeez, Peter, how'd Catherine react?" I asked. "Well," he replied with the ultimate Mackler grin, "I guess you can say she got the message that I really loved her."
I first met Catherine in their old apartment in Montmartre. Peter had invited some Americans for Thanksgiving dinner and there she was, gloriously pregnant with their first child, Camille, joking about all the different dishes, saying: "What do I know, I'm French!" A few years later, I too was pregnant with my first child, searching for a bigger apartment. I remembered theirs -- they were abroad by then -- and tried my luck, knocking on the concierge's door. Twenty-five years later, I'm still in that same Montmartre building where we celebrated that lovely holiday.
Your couple began in New York Catherine, but your family began here, in Montmartre. You know you and the girls are welcome, always, anytime -- for a peek back to where some of your own "beautiful life" began. And it will carry on -- the Brooklyn bridge never lets you down.
-- Nancy Shields
Bravo to James for creating such a precious legacy for Peter's daughters, a testament to a special man. That's what I want to write about -- the guy outside of work, who was more than a fabulous journalist. I met Peter my first weeks at AFP in 1980. I was briefly intimidated until I saw that heart of gold shine through and a quick repartee arose tapping an old US rivalry -- our home states, New York vs. New Jersey, the guy from Brooklyn and the Jersey girl. When news was slow Peter got fidgety.
"You are such a New Yorker! Calm down," I once teased. He stood still, thrust out his arm and shot back with what became a standing joke: "Alright Jersey girl, look at this hand, steady as steel." And he was. He was the Brooklyn Bridge, a solid expanse of optimism ready to help you across troubled waters and keep you focussed on that magical skyline waiting on the other side -- as once he did for me. Years ago we went to see "It's a Beautiful Life," the Italian film set in a Nazi concentration camp. When the lights came on, I was choked up fighting tears but Peter was smiling broadly. "Wasn't that a great film? The love of that father." That was quintessential Peter, the guy -- like the man in the film -- who could distill the best even from tragedy, the "papa poule" who'd do anything for his children, the husband still so in love he softened when Catherine spoke.
When I was in Washington last year, he asked for a private session to learn the new AFP interface. He absorbed all in five minutes then said, "Enough, now let's get down to the real stuff" -- which meant chatting about our respective kids, our lives, our adventures, Peter cracking jokes throughout. You can't talk about Peter without talking about Catherine. Peter was quickly smitten with this young French girl -- and he was unequivocal. He actually talked authorities into breaking down her apartment door when they were dating in New York City. He hadn't heard from her and was certain something horrible had happened -- which it hadn't. "Jeez, Peter, how'd Catherine react?" I asked. "Well," he replied with the ultimate Mackler grin, "I guess you can say she got the message that I really loved her."
I first met Catherine in their old apartment in Montmartre. Peter had invited some Americans for Thanksgiving dinner and there she was, gloriously pregnant with their first child, Camille, joking about all the different dishes, saying: "What do I know, I'm French!" A few years later, I too was pregnant with my first child, searching for a bigger apartment. I remembered theirs -- they were abroad by then -- and tried my luck, knocking on the concierge's door. Twenty-five years later, I'm still in that same Montmartre building where we celebrated that lovely holiday.
Your couple began in New York Catherine, but your family began here, in Montmartre. You know you and the girls are welcome, always, anytime -- for a peek back to where some of your own "beautiful life" began. And it will carry on -- the Brooklyn bridge never lets you down.
-- Nancy Shields
Rob Lever: Never a slow day with Peter in the office
It was never a slow news day when Peter was in the office. We had to "come back" on the story from the previous day or look ahead to the next item, plan ahead. He was right of course, and his sense of the story helped make AFP the competitive news agency it is worldwide.
Just because of happenstance, Peter and I probably spent more time together over the past 15 years than anyone, except possibly his wife Catherine. He was my editor and manager. And since I was a union rep, he was technically an adversary. But he knew the strength of any organization was its people and he would frequently take me aside and tell me "off the record" how he was looking out for people.
There was no problem too big or too small for Peter. He had an amazing strategic view, almost Napoleonic. He conquered Asia and Europe and moved into North America. He had to vision to break away from AP to become a real competitor. He moved AFP onto the Web, mobile devices, video. But he saw to small details, offering to get lunch for a busy reporter or order food for a big election.
Yes he was a workaholic. But he was never too busy to take a call from his wife. "OK babe," he would say. You heard the softness in his voice and you knew he was very content at home, just as he was happy in his work at the office, however long he had worked.
Peter and I shared a certain bond. We both were from New York, so could talk about the Yankees or Brooklyn Dodgers. We both worked in VISTA, the government poverty program (this was left out of the obits). We both married French women and knew the joys and problems of bicultural families and bicultural journalism.
Maybe it was the Brooklyn Dodger spirit that drove Peter to drive other people. He knew that the underdog could come back and win whatever the odds. So if we were outmanned 50 to 1, and yet able to beat the competition, Peter wasn't surprised. This is what he had planned for all along.
-- Rob Lever
John Drury: Grateful to be Peter's friend
Peter and I were opposites.
He was a journalist, I a lawyer.
He was from Brooklyn. I was from Upstate.
He was liberal and I was the other.
He rooted for the Yankees after being a Dodger fan. I said "you're a turncoat."
He denied it.
I rooted for the New York Giants (when they existed).
His tolerance for all peoples of the world made way for me to come into his life.
I am very grateful.
He fascinated me with his stories.
He grew up down the street from Barry Manilow.
He took Carol to visit Esther Williams.
He watched Gil Hodges on the streets of Brooklyn.
He said Condi liked the Cleveland Browns.
I liked Condi even more than before.
I sat in his living room Sunday with Carol, Catherine, friends; all grieving deeply.
A young AFP colleague knocked on the front door and deliver an exquisite tall purple orchid to Catherine. Placed in the middle of her table, it captured all the sad beauty of
the room. He spoke of his loss and his respect for Peter. I said to Jay that it seemed that Peter had not died, he would bounce in soon . . . a little late, as he always did.
I thought this could not have occurred to this force of nature.
--John Drury
He was a journalist, I a lawyer.
He was from Brooklyn. I was from Upstate.
He was liberal and I was the other.
He rooted for the Yankees after being a Dodger fan. I said "you're a turncoat."
He denied it.
I rooted for the New York Giants (when they existed).
His tolerance for all peoples of the world made way for me to come into his life.
I am very grateful.
He fascinated me with his stories.
He grew up down the street from Barry Manilow.
He took Carol to visit Esther Williams.
He watched Gil Hodges on the streets of Brooklyn.
He said Condi liked the Cleveland Browns.
I liked Condi even more than before.
I sat in his living room Sunday with Carol, Catherine, friends; all grieving deeply.
A young AFP colleague knocked on the front door and deliver an exquisite tall purple orchid to Catherine. Placed in the middle of her table, it captured all the sad beauty of
the room. He spoke of his loss and his respect for Peter. I said to Jay that it seemed that Peter had not died, he would bounce in soon . . . a little late, as he always did.
I thought this could not have occurred to this force of nature.
--John Drury
Allan Kelly: A friendship cut short
We worked together, Peter and I, on three continents over nigh on 30 years - Asia, Europe and North America --- Had we the time spread out before us I would quite happily add Africa and South America. Sadly we can't.
It was Peter who drew me (and Marie-Therese and four-year-old Christopher) out of a Paris torpor on a night flight to Asia in August, 1984 where like everyone else I was galvanised by his journalistic instincts and "what if " attiitude. Never had exerienced that before. Never looked back. Our daughter Charlotte was born there.
Professional-life apart we became good friends and our wives and families became close. We were neighbours in Hong Kong, where we used their apartment-block swimming pool and tennis courts after Catherine managed to get us passes. In Le Chesnay (Versailles) we lived 100 metres away from each other - other side of the road - and looked after each other's apartments when absent. In Washington we were both in Bethesda. We celebrated together Christmas, New Year, Thanksgiving, Bastille Day and even a Scottish Burns Night.
Peter the journalist was an exceptional case. We all know that . But my abiding memory will always be Peter the family guy with Catherine whom he adored and his two bright and loving daughters Camille and Lauren. Suddenly the Nabib of the Newsroom was the Lamb of the Livingroom as he would sit back, glass of wine in hand, nod his head contentedly and happily do what he was told - unknown for PM in the newsroom. Great compassion also for others - no exceptions. Help not hindrance his motto and he stuck to it faithfully.
Last point - Peter was also an exceptional sportsman - had he chosen I am sure he could have made the grade somewhere - great physique, talented ball skills and as hard as nails mentally. We played at golf - he beat me. We played at tennis - he beat me. I would never have taken him on in a boxing match. But then again knowing Peter he would have likely worked out a way of making me think I had won.
Huge loss, hard to take for us all, but he will always be with us in spirit - thats for sure.
Just hoping that Catherine, Camille and Lauren in time can come to terms with Peter's untimely death as best they can. We hope to see them all in France or the USA whenever they are ready.
--Allan Kelly
AFP Paris
It was Peter who drew me (and Marie-Therese and four-year-old Christopher) out of a Paris torpor on a night flight to Asia in August, 1984 where like everyone else I was galvanised by his journalistic instincts and "what if " attiitude. Never had exerienced that before. Never looked back. Our daughter Charlotte was born there.
Professional-life apart we became good friends and our wives and families became close. We were neighbours in Hong Kong, where we used their apartment-block swimming pool and tennis courts after Catherine managed to get us passes. In Le Chesnay (Versailles) we lived 100 metres away from each other - other side of the road - and looked after each other's apartments when absent. In Washington we were both in Bethesda. We celebrated together Christmas, New Year, Thanksgiving, Bastille Day and even a Scottish Burns Night.
Peter the journalist was an exceptional case. We all know that . But my abiding memory will always be Peter the family guy with Catherine whom he adored and his two bright and loving daughters Camille and Lauren. Suddenly the Nabib of the Newsroom was the Lamb of the Livingroom as he would sit back, glass of wine in hand, nod his head contentedly and happily do what he was told - unknown for PM in the newsroom. Great compassion also for others - no exceptions. Help not hindrance his motto and he stuck to it faithfully.
Last point - Peter was also an exceptional sportsman - had he chosen I am sure he could have made the grade somewhere - great physique, talented ball skills and as hard as nails mentally. We played at golf - he beat me. We played at tennis - he beat me. I would never have taken him on in a boxing match. But then again knowing Peter he would have likely worked out a way of making me think I had won.
Huge loss, hard to take for us all, but he will always be with us in spirit - thats for sure.
Just hoping that Catherine, Camille and Lauren in time can come to terms with Peter's untimely death as best they can. We hope to see them all in France or the USA whenever they are ready.
--Allan Kelly
AFP Paris
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Barbara Slavin: We will miss him so much
Peter always had to remind me that he was older.
I edited his first big story for UPI – something really sexy about solid waste disposal in Westchester County, N.Y. -- so I thought of him as the kid reporter. As the years passed and Peter became a big-time editor, the age thing became a running joke between us. We stayed in touch after we both left UPI and began traveling the world, reconnecting in Hong Kong and then, happily, in Washington, D.C. When Peter turned up on the State Department beat, I was ecstatic. There was something so comforting about sitting next to him on those endless flights, knowing he wouldn’t mind if I snored and that we would backstop each other on quotes. He worked harder than anyone and always with great enthusiasm. Occasionally, I could persuade him to come out for a meal but only after every single desk at AFP was more than satisfied. Conscientious doesn’t begin to capture his work ethic.
But Peter was so much more than the consummate journalist. The father of two daughters, he took time to mentor a fatherless boy – the son of a friend whose death was even more untimely. Peter and Catherine’s hospitality was legendary, bringing together the old UPI crowd to celebrate their wedding anniversaries, reminding us how lucky we were to have worked together at that crazy place and at that wonderful time for journalism. Peter was the ultimate Brooklyn boy made good, the guy who always worried about others, who made everyone feel at home, who made friends from Flatbush to Tehran.
We will miss him so much.
-- Barbara Slavin
I edited his first big story for UPI – something really sexy about solid waste disposal in Westchester County, N.Y. -- so I thought of him as the kid reporter. As the years passed and Peter became a big-time editor, the age thing became a running joke between us. We stayed in touch after we both left UPI and began traveling the world, reconnecting in Hong Kong and then, happily, in Washington, D.C. When Peter turned up on the State Department beat, I was ecstatic. There was something so comforting about sitting next to him on those endless flights, knowing he wouldn’t mind if I snored and that we would backstop each other on quotes. He worked harder than anyone and always with great enthusiasm. Occasionally, I could persuade him to come out for a meal but only after every single desk at AFP was more than satisfied. Conscientious doesn’t begin to capture his work ethic.
But Peter was so much more than the consummate journalist. The father of two daughters, he took time to mentor a fatherless boy – the son of a friend whose death was even more untimely. Peter and Catherine’s hospitality was legendary, bringing together the old UPI crowd to celebrate their wedding anniversaries, reminding us how lucky we were to have worked together at that crazy place and at that wonderful time for journalism. Peter was the ultimate Brooklyn boy made good, the guy who always worried about others, who made everyone feel at home, who made friends from Flatbush to Tehran.
We will miss him so much.
-- Barbara Slavin
Perry Glasser: Old college friends
Macklepuss and I were friends when we were undergraduates at
That was when Peter first started working in the Brooklyn halfway house for schizophrenic teenagers, the
Peter’s first publication was an expose of the inconsistent treatment he received at
Peter as a young man played a merciless game of tennis; applauding every shot an opponent made, but giving no quarter. He’d dance to Creedence Clearwater Revivals “Suzie Q” on any pretext, and he danced terribly, a version of the white-boy shuffle complete with shrugging shoulders and that overbite that showed intensity. When he was dating Catherine, she’d ask me for details of his life as an adolescent, and I told her the truth — he was a loyal friend and decent guy. What she saw was what she’d get. There was no dirt. At their wedding in a
Tyler Marshall: a special kind of reporter
As a former colleague who traveled with Peter frequently on State Department trips, it didn¢t take long for me to discover he was a special kind of reporter. In a traveling press corps filled with workaholics, Peter always seemed to give that little bit extra. In a group that never slowed, his energy levels seemed higher. (As I came to learn, his energy levels were ALWAYS higher.)
Whether it was talking about some policy issue, a new business idea or a bit of baseball trivia 30 years back, enthusiasm and energy were just part of who Peter was. On the job, he was focused. His questions to power were smart, sharp and fearless. He gave no quarter. He played no favorites. His stories were clear, balanced, and fair. For all these traits, I developed an enormous respect for Peter and the way he did his job. But once the pressure was off the story, he could kick back and talk just as passionately and enthusiastically about music, sports, family or whatever else was going on in his life. And there was always plenty.
He drafted me into one of his ventures, Global Media Forum. We were also bound by the shared experiences in our careers-- the common experience of surviving UPI and the luck of getting foreign assignments in both Europe and
Tyler Marshall
(ex-
Gill Tucker: a life well lived.
Peter gave us so many reasons to love him. He was a loving husband and father, a loyal friend, a committed journalist,a compassionate human being who sought ways to use his knowledge and experience to make the world a better place.
But above all, he was that rare person - one who lived life to the full, never wasted a second, always, whatever he was doing, concentrated 100% of his energy and enthusiasm on the moment.
Now, suddenly, that vibrant presence is gone - and Sarah said it for us all: nothing will ever be the same. But as we miss him and mourn him, Peter has left us one last, great gift - the comfort of knowing that, though tragically cut short, his was indeed a life well lived.
-- Gill Tucker
Olivier Knox: Building AFP
The year was 1996, maybe four or five months after he had hired me, and Peter was describing the evolution of AFP's English-language service. He was justifiably proud of severing ties to AP, whose stories AFP used to have to use for North American coverage. But what I remember most is his description of the shocked reaction from the Associated Press boss when Peter told him we'd be going our own way: "So, are you smoking the crack, or is
Peter hired me in July 1996, fresh out of graduate school, my only journalism experience a year-long stint as the factotum to a French newspaper correspondent in
I share my colleagues' fond-but-with-a-tinge-of-exasperation recollections of a tireless reporter with staggeringly accurate news judgment and the uncanny ability to motivate those who worked with him. But what I will most remember, what I will most miss now that he's gone, is the faith he put in all of us, in me, to do the best we could, to be a team.
Four months after he hired me, Peter walked to the English Desk where I was translating copy from French and Spanish into English -- I say "walked," but those of you who knew Peter can easily picture that half-sprinting gait he had in the newsroom -- and earnestly asked me to come into this office. It was quickly clear that I had screwed up. A French reporter had described a prominent democracy advocate as a "militante de la paix" and I had lazily translated that as "peace militant."
"She's not happy. Her people aren't happy," Peter said somberly. "They say that has a military connotation. Militant/military. They say they are going to sue. Do you see the problem here?" I was terrified. He went on: "You cannot translate word-for-word. You need to think of the meaning of the whole sentence. Not just individual words." I just nodded. "Now, here's what I'm going to do: Nothing. I told her people they were being ridiculous and that we would not be issuing a formal correction, and that they were welcome to try their luck in court. But I need you to make sure you watch those kinds of errors."
Peter had gone to bat for me, but he had made sure not to miss the opportunity for a teachable moment.
So it’s more than a decade later, and I'm hooked on the AFP crack: For all its faults, I love the agency. And as for Peter, nothing will be the same without him. I'm not ready to do without his compassion, and his guidance. Or his sense of purpose. Or his faith in me. Or the way he rallied everyone around him.
But thanks to 12 years spent learning from him, from the best, day-in and day-out, of seeing how it’s done…I think with time I'll be ready to try.
-- Olivier Knox
Diana Rea: My friend's father
Peter was my best friend's father, but I considered him more like extended family. In a lot of ways, he reminded me of my own father. Over the years that I've known Camille, he and Catherine have been incredibly kind and generous to me, welcoming me into their homes in both France and DC. It was on one of the trips to France that he actually coined the term "Sushi Club," which Camille and I, along with our best friend Christine, still use to refer to ourselves. After a long flight from New York, the three of us had passed out, exhausted, on a bed in Peter and Catherine's home in various curled up positions, causing him to remark that we looked like pieces of sushi sitting on a plate. We laughed about the silliness of the name at the time, but four years later, it has stuck with us. Peter will always be considered an honorary member of the Sushi Club. He was awesome on that trip, playing host, chauffeur, and tour guide all week despite his busy work schedule. He took us to lunch one day at a nice restaurant near his office, and I still remember him laughing at me when I ordered a "sandwich avec trois fromages" - pointing out that I had come all the way to this nice restaurant in France to order a grilled cheese. Diana J. Rea
I also have to thank Peter for his efforts in converting Camille into a diehard Yankees fan. He explained to me once how he came to be a Yankees fan even though he grew up in Brooklyn, though I have to admit the story still leaves me scratching my head. Without his good influence, she no doubt might have become a Mets fan or worse, and then I would have no one to go to games with. I enjoyed going to games with Peter and Camille, discussing Yankees history and their current prospects with him, speculating on whether they would win their division. I will definitely miss his company and his insight.
As I write this, it's hitting me that even though Peter is gone, there are little reminders of him that endure. From silly nicknames to Camille's infatuation with baseball and the strength and love of his incredible family, it's clear that his presence is still very much tangible. Although I was only fortunate enough to know him for a few years, I know that the friendship and kindness he showed me in that time will have a lasting influence. I hope he knows how grateful I am for that.
Gersende Rambourg: The heart of a warrior
We're in a taxi, heading towards the Supreme Court. An important ruling on Guantanamo is expected. I whisper to Peter, who volunteered at the last minute to help out: I'm happy there's three of us, but the competition is going to have a dozen people.
Silence. Then Peter tells me, very calmly, like he's telling a joke: Just think of yourself as a mujahideen. You're on your own, your weapons are outdated, but these guys in the tanks might be overconfident. So you need to give it all you've got, focus all your energy and who knows, you might be able to outpace or outsmart them.
I'm reminded of the mujahideen allegory often. Not necessarily in work situations but whenever I feel ill-equipped in the face of a new challenge. I think of the confidence in his voice, the trust he's put in me and that's all the boost I need.
I will miss him terribly.
Gersende Rambourg (AFP)
Silence. Then Peter tells me, very calmly, like he's telling a joke: Just think of yourself as a mujahideen. You're on your own, your weapons are outdated, but these guys in the tanks might be overconfident. So you need to give it all you've got, focus all your energy and who knows, you might be able to outpace or outsmart them.
I'm reminded of the mujahideen allegory often. Not necessarily in work situations but whenever I feel ill-equipped in the face of a new challenge. I think of the confidence in his voice, the trust he's put in me and that's all the boost I need.
I will miss him terribly.
Gersende Rambourg (AFP)
Albion Land: He was larger than life
I need fewer than the fingers on just one hand to count the people I have known who are “larger than life,” and Peter Mackler was one of them.
I was still fairly new at AFP and to the
And help he did. Not only was he there with us in the day-to-day challenge of covering the story but also bullying a short-sighted management into recognising that, if you’re top story in the world nearly every day, it stands to reason that you need adequate human and technical resources to cover it.
So much has already been said here about Peter’s personality and professionalism that I won’t tire the reader with repetition.
Just one thing, though.
Sauf erreur, the obit left out the fact that Peter also “orchestrated” coverage of the
I will miss you very much, Field Marshall.
-- Albion Land
Middle East Desk, Nicosia
Isabel Parenthoën: Peter was a friend.
He was one of the most respect-worthy people I've ever had the honour to meet, both as a professional and a person.
He was fully committed to whatever task he had taken on, and never let go before he had reached a solution he found acceptable. This is probably the biggest lesson I have learned from him, and in this regard I consider him as a mentor: nevermind the setbacks, nevermind the struggle, one should stick to one's priorities. Each of us has to ability and the strength to influence a whole system, using both dedication and humility.
It took me time - and the maturity that comes with it - to fully understand that patience can bring you wherever you want to go. He was telling me this, him of all people, the most impatient man I knew when it came to getting the best out of you !
Peter was also very much in love: with life in general, with his family in particular. He trusted life. Totally.
He considered himself lucky in all regards and was always very thankful for being alive. Another lesson I will cherish.
Peter gave so much - just by being himself.
Anne Penketh: Peter was a change agent
I don't think it would be an understatement to say that AFP would not be what it is today without Peter Mackler, the indefatigable moving spirit behind the expansion of the English service since the 1980s, who made a generation of us raise our game professionally.
When I left Paris for New York in the mid-1990s I saw a different side of him. I will never forget the extent to which he took care of Graham Brown, who was then dying of cancer, and whose death left another hole in our lives. So it is not just Peter the consummate professional that I will remember, but the caring person who should have taken better care of himself.
We were all in shock when Tim Russert died of a massive heart attack only a couple of weeks ago. Peter was the Tim Russert of AFP.
Anne Penketh
When I left Paris for New York in the mid-1990s I saw a different side of him. I will never forget the extent to which he took care of Graham Brown, who was then dying of cancer, and whose death left another hole in our lives. So it is not just Peter the consummate professional that I will remember, but the caring person who should have taken better care of himself.
We were all in shock when Tim Russert died of a massive heart attack only a couple of weeks ago. Peter was the Tim Russert of AFP.
Anne Penketh
Francis Kohn: Adieu Peter
J’écris volontairement cet hommage à Peter en français. On sait le rôle essentiel joué par Peter pour bâtir le service anglais de l’AFP, mais son envergure était telle que son influence ne s’est pas limitée aux « anglos ». Il était respecté de tous. D’une certaine façon, il a symbolisé ce que l’AFP a de meilleure, une agence multilingue avec des femmes et des hommes venus de tous les horizons. Energique, passionné, emporté parfois, toujours sur la brèche, il savait se mettre en quatre pour les autres. Une fois alors que nous étions en Californie, il m’a offert une carte représentant un funambule sur la corde raide. « Cela décrit ton boulot de rédacteur en chef » dans la région Amérique, m’avait-il dit. « Peter, t’as pas savonné la corde au moins ?», lui avais-je répondu. Il avait de l’humour et nous avons ri ensemble. J’ai gardé la carte. Je n’arrive pas à croire qu’il soit tombé.
Francis Kohn
Jacques Lhuillery: Too Hard, and too painful
I joined AFP in 1979, the same year than Peter. And I already was impressed by him, by his kindness and the natural authority emanating from him. To me Peter was, is, probably the most possible achieved mix fo what is best in French and American culture and spirit.
I was enraging to hear him speaking French so well with nuances and all subtleties while I was tiring my eyes on Harraps english dictionary...
Peter was even more part of my then American dream one year later, when he was covering US primaries campaign. I just came back from the US where I had the chance, thanks to a friend, to be "embedded" for a week with G.H Bush staff campaign in Houston and later in Florida.
So, when I came back in Paris and AFP desk étranger, every time the shift chief editor was asking: "Peter just sent a story and a profile, any volunteer to translate?" I was immediately almost shouting "me! me!". I was just like a kid. Laughters around.
He was making me dream, confirming my ideas about the kind of journalism I was dreaming of and aiming at.
Almost 30 years later, and even if our professional roads had divided long ago, I still remember and cherish these moments.
Pour moi Peter était la quintessence aboutie de la gentillesse, de l'exigence, et du plus grand sens de ce métier. Et comme les plus grands, hélàs, il est mort en scène...
JACQUES LHUILLERY
AFP LAGOS NIGERIA
I was enraging to hear him speaking French so well with nuances and all subtleties while I was tiring my eyes on Harraps english dictionary...
Peter was even more part of my then American dream one year later, when he was covering US primaries campaign. I just came back from the US where I had the chance, thanks to a friend, to be "embedded" for a week with G.H Bush staff campaign in Houston and later in Florida.
So, when I came back in Paris and AFP desk étranger, every time the shift chief editor was asking: "Peter just sent a story and a profile, any volunteer to translate?" I was immediately almost shouting "me! me!". I was just like a kid. Laughters around.
He was making me dream, confirming my ideas about the kind of journalism I was dreaming of and aiming at.
Almost 30 years later, and even if our professional roads had divided long ago, I still remember and cherish these moments.
Pour moi Peter était la quintessence aboutie de la gentillesse, de l'exigence, et du plus grand sens de ce métier. Et comme les plus grands, hélàs, il est mort en scène...
JACQUES LHUILLERY
AFP LAGOS NIGERIA
Richard Ingham: Teaching Americans about cricket
When I went to Hong Kong in 1993 to run the regional news desk, one of my first steps was to go through the drawers and cupboards to take stock of what was there.
At the bottom of a pile of dusty, yellowing papers, I found a clipboard which contained a nine-page explanation of cricket for HK's American deskers.
The ancient document had originally been pounded out on a typewriter and photocopied and rephotocopied many times, bore coffee stains and jotted-down phone numbers, and over the years had acquired the seer, venerable feel of mediaeval parchment.
You could hardly imagine a more helpful or more exhaustive guide to cricket. With charm and patience, it explained, for people brought up on baseball, the meaning of a googly, a leg before wicket, the difference between a bye and a leg bye, a wide and a maiden over and all the other crazy complexities of the game. The author -- of course -- was Peter.
I pick on this anecdote to provide just a tiny illustration of this man's extraordinary energy, his commitment to excellence and his love of journalism. Today, he leaves a legacy as broad as it is deep. AFP has a growing stature in the world, and the English service in Asia is one of its crown jewels. All of us benefit from this success. Let us praise the man who lay its foundations, bulldozing through innumerable obstacles and facing entrenched interests with courage and tenacity.
There was also Peter's inner life, and those of us who caught a glimpse of it came away enriched by his unfailing fairness, his humour and his discreet but deeply-felt acts of humanism. He was a one-off.
Richard Ingham
Jean-Louis Pany: Before and after Peter
I had crossed Peter's path on a few international summits but had never worked with him before 9/11
At that time, I was posted in Montreal and I was lucky enough to reach New York this very day, just before the border was closed
So I was able to experience the "before and after" Peter's arrival.
As soon as he got to the office, what was just emergency frantic coverage of the first hours turned into organised work
The journalists, who hardly knew each others, instantly worked together and in harmony, a word that sounds a bit strange considering his somewhat military attitude toward organisation.
During those meetings in front of his little board, we were still wondering about the possibilities of a story when Peter had already put it on the menu !
And just when we could get exasperated by him giving orders iin a less than democratic manner, he had a way of showing a contagious enthusiasm or aknowledging our work that would push us a bit further.
Jean-Louis Pany
AFP Paris
Jo Biddle: This was not the way it was supposed to be
"See you Monday," I said, waving good-bye late Thursday after chatting about my plans for a long weekend with the kids: Ashling, the princess as you called her, and Callum the tearaway who last year at 15 months old nearly plunged AFP America into darkness after wandering into the technicians lab and finding some very enticing buttons.
Gilles Tarot: Always in search of excellence
It is rare to see a journalist with such a level of commitment to the agency and with such a willingness to reach excellence.
Not a journalist myself, I would not elaborate about his journalistic skills as many will do it better but I would like to emphasize and recognize his contribution to our commercial development in North America. Despite his daily heavy agenda in the journalistic side, he never refused to help our marketing team and to spend time to meet with potential clients; even better, having him with us was our best sales pitch when explaining AFP coverage and telling our differences. We successfully managed to sign up with a major Newspaper Group in
I think he deeply loved AFP and was dedicated to bring the agency at the very top. His words at our lunch party on Friday were still focusing on his satisfaction to have the
He also loved his wife and was so proud of his daughters; I happened to witness some very touching words with his family while traveling together with him to see clients.
He recently told me how happy he was to have finally found a house in Saint Remi after a long search; I told him that my parents were living in Salon, very close to his new place area and we agreed to meet in Provence when both in the area.
Some singers or actors say that they wish to die on stage but Peter did not deserve to fall in the Newsroom. He had so much more to do for us all.
Gilles Tarot
Christine Schwalm: Peter was generous with ideas
I knew Peter through his daughter Camille, who is my best friend. He completely embodied the "can do" attitude. I remember pulling together a huge Thanksgiving dinner with Peter and Camille, fretting about the doneness of the turkey, and Peter saying, "it'll be fine, we'll just serve them more stuffing--and wine. We have lots of wine."
When I stayed at the Paris apartment, Peter generously took me and another friend to the Rodin museum and a fantastic lunch at Le Grand Colbert. Whenever I see, "Something's Gotta Give" is playing on TV, I watch for a while and remember that day fondly.
He had a great way of sharing ideas and information. When he got excited about something, he would tell you about about it with such exuberance, trying to get you to feel that same excitement. Camille does the exact same thing. It was always clear that his family meant the world to him. He took tremendous pride in Camille and Lauren's accomplishments and truly adored Catherine. To suffer so great a loss is heartbreaking, and my thoughts are with them all.
--Christine Schwalm
When I stayed at the Paris apartment, Peter generously took me and another friend to the Rodin museum and a fantastic lunch at Le Grand Colbert. Whenever I see, "Something's Gotta Give" is playing on TV, I watch for a while and remember that day fondly.
He had a great way of sharing ideas and information. When he got excited about something, he would tell you about about it with such exuberance, trying to get you to feel that same excitement. Camille does the exact same thing. It was always clear that his family meant the world to him. He took tremendous pride in Camille and Lauren's accomplishments and truly adored Catherine. To suffer so great a loss is heartbreaking, and my thoughts are with them all.
--Christine Schwalm
Roberto Coloma: Peter Mackler was my first mentor in AFP.
From Roberto Coloma, bureau chief, Singapore:
Peter Mackler was my first mentor in AFP. In some ways, I never stopped learning from him.
Like a deft sushi chef (who never stopped chatting and giving orders) he sliced the fat off my copy and taught me firmly but patiently how to write a proper lead -- clean, tight and punchy -- soon after I started out as a reporter at the AFP Manila bureau in the early 80s.
We later did summits, coup attempts and disasters together and eventually, I got his old job in Singapore.
I always kept track of Peter's career -- not a difficult thing to do because there were always stories filtering back from colleagues about his exploits in the Gulf, Paris, Sydney, Washington.
The last time we were in touch was when he confirmed Washington was going to send a special correspondent to a security summit in Singapore earlier this month, and we exchanged the usual pleasantries.
So like everyone else, I was stunned to learn of his passing when a phone call from Param -- another Mackler pupil -- woke me up in a cold and dark hotel room in Bangkok with the sad news that Peter had died. Just like that. Just like that!
Some saw Peter as a general but to me he was a benign typhoon that cleaned out all the debris in its path and left only the sturdy trees -- the details that mattered -- standing after he went through your copy.
Peter invented multi-tasking long before the concept had a name. No one could talk, type and think at the same time as Peter did, and he probably could have juggled a dozen balls and knives while he was at it. He always left people awed (and sometimes seething) after a long, intense day at work, and then he'd start all over again after younger people had slumped in exhaustion.
All the story impacts and bylines in the world meant nothing compared to a word of praise or encouragement from Peter.
I'm afraid I failed Peter in one respect. He always told me to "Learn French, Bobby, learn French!" if I wanted to go anywhere in AFP.
But Peter made that unnecessary -- by elevating the English service to what it is today, he made all of us feel right at home in AFP.
RC
Peter Mackler was my first mentor in AFP. In some ways, I never stopped learning from him.
Like a deft sushi chef (who never stopped chatting and giving orders) he sliced the fat off my copy and taught me firmly but patiently how to write a proper lead -- clean, tight and punchy -- soon after I started out as a reporter at the AFP Manila bureau in the early 80s.
We later did summits, coup attempts and disasters together and eventually, I got his old job in Singapore.
I always kept track of Peter's career -- not a difficult thing to do because there were always stories filtering back from colleagues about his exploits in the Gulf, Paris, Sydney, Washington.
The last time we were in touch was when he confirmed Washington was going to send a special correspondent to a security summit in Singapore earlier this month, and we exchanged the usual pleasantries.
So like everyone else, I was stunned to learn of his passing when a phone call from Param -- another Mackler pupil -- woke me up in a cold and dark hotel room in Bangkok with the sad news that Peter had died. Just like that. Just like that!
Some saw Peter as a general but to me he was a benign typhoon that cleaned out all the debris in its path and left only the sturdy trees -- the details that mattered -- standing after he went through your copy.
Peter invented multi-tasking long before the concept had a name. No one could talk, type and think at the same time as Peter did, and he probably could have juggled a dozen balls and knives while he was at it. He always left people awed (and sometimes seething) after a long, intense day at work, and then he'd start all over again after younger people had slumped in exhaustion.
All the story impacts and bylines in the world meant nothing compared to a word of praise or encouragement from Peter.
I'm afraid I failed Peter in one respect. He always told me to "Learn French, Bobby, learn French!" if I wanted to go anywhere in AFP.
But Peter made that unnecessary -- by elevating the English service to what it is today, he made all of us feel right at home in AFP.
RC
Monday, June 23, 2008
Comments about Peter by the Secretary of State
Filed by an AFP reporter:
SECRETARY RICE: Good. All right. I would like to begin by saying that I was deeply saddened to hear that Peter Mackler died. And he, of course, was with us on a number of trips, a truly good guy. And -- yes, he was, and a great journalist. And I think, really, did a great service in organizing the foreign service -- the foreign correspondence for the State Department. And so I hope you'll pass on to everybody at the AFP how much we were deeply distressed to learn of his passing and we'll remember him very fondly. Yeah. Thank you. And I'll send a note to his family.
(Filed during Secretary Rice's flight to Berlin.)
SECRETARY RICE: Good. All right. I would like to begin by saying that I was deeply saddened to hear that Peter Mackler died. And he, of course, was with us on a number of trips, a truly good guy. And -- yes, he was, and a great journalist. And I think, really, did a great service in organizing the foreign service -- the foreign correspondence for the State Department. And so I hope you'll pass on to everybody at the AFP how much we were deeply distressed to learn of his passing and we'll remember him very fondly. Yeah. Thank you. And I'll send a note to his family.
(Filed during Secretary Rice's flight to Berlin.)
Carol DeHaven: Mackler's Comet
Peter's wife Catherine reminded him of Audrey Hepburn.
Camille and Lauren were his pride and joy. It was important to him to celebrate wedding anniversaries and birthdays on the actual date. His middle school teacher Mrs. Grundy taught him the importance of a good outline. He knew every lyric of the American Broadway musical "Guys and Dolls." Peter often invoked scenes from Woody Allen's "Take the Money and Run," as similes for real-life moments. He loved old movies like "Pillow Talk," "Roman Holiday," "Charade" and "Crimes and Misdeameanors." Jazz was his favorite music and Ella Fitzgerald was, as Cole Porter would say, "The Top."
So, too, was Peter, "The Top."
I worked at AFP Washington as sales and marketing manager from 1992 to 1999 and was fortunate to collaborate with Peter on a special World Cup 1998 Internet package, among other new media projects.
Someone dubbed us "le couple infernal," an annoying thorn in the side of AFP tradition. I shared that moniker proudly, but Peter was the real leader and change-maker. I was just some of the galactic dust in the tail of Mackler's Comet. He was boundless energy, passion, and compassion personified. In the most frustrating of times, he never gave up and kep fighting the fight, no matter how many memos and reports it took, no matter how many noes, no matter how many refusals.
Mackler's Comet will continue to travel across our sky and we will watch and remember in wonder. I loved and respected him dearly and he was my very, very good friend. I grieve with all of you
-- Carol DeHaven
Camille and Lauren were his pride and joy. It was important to him to celebrate wedding anniversaries and birthdays on the actual date. His middle school teacher Mrs. Grundy taught him the importance of a good outline. He knew every lyric of the American Broadway musical "Guys and Dolls." Peter often invoked scenes from Woody Allen's "Take the Money and Run," as similes for real-life moments. He loved old movies like "Pillow Talk," "Roman Holiday," "Charade" and "Crimes and Misdeameanors." Jazz was his favorite music and Ella Fitzgerald was, as Cole Porter would say, "The Top."
So, too, was Peter, "The Top."
I worked at AFP Washington as sales and marketing manager from 1992 to 1999 and was fortunate to collaborate with Peter on a special World Cup 1998 Internet package, among other new media projects.
Someone dubbed us "le couple infernal," an annoying thorn in the side of AFP tradition. I shared that moniker proudly, but Peter was the real leader and change-maker. I was just some of the galactic dust in the tail of Mackler's Comet. He was boundless energy, passion, and compassion personified. In the most frustrating of times, he never gave up and kep fighting the fight, no matter how many memos and reports it took, no matter how many noes, no matter how many refusals.
Mackler's Comet will continue to travel across our sky and we will watch and remember in wonder. I loved and respected him dearly and he was my very, very good friend. I grieve with all of you
-- Carol DeHaven
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Christopher Boian: Seeing Peter Mackler
Peter taught me not just where to look but how to see. In the 20 years since he hired me at
At work, he pushed me, hard, to be a better journalist and showed me how to be a better manager. Away from work, he taught me through his own example to be a better father, husband, man.
To say that Peter was one of a kind does not begin to describe his uniqueness. To say that he has been, and will always be, a big presence in my life doesn’t even come close to characterizing the influence he has had on me.
We spoke a few times in the last couple of weeks. The last time, he described to me the evening stroll he was taking with Catherine around a lake near their new country home in the south of
Peter was of course my boss and my mentor for most of my adult life. But more than that, he was an honorable, brave man whom I respected deeply and was privileged to call a good friend.
He taught me to see, and in the process he let me see him. I will miss you, Peter, and I will forget nothing.
-- Christopher Boian
Moscow Bureau
Joseph Volpe: Peter typified AFP's heart
Mathematically speaking, Peter was more than one line away from me on an organizational chart as a sales person at AFP. More directly, he was the encapsulation of the Agency; I saw him as the embodiment of the esprit de corps that separates AFP from other news agencies. AFP has heart, I believe, in large part because of its personalities and, in no small part, that fact was reflected by Peter's conscious efforts and in many ways his unconscious efforts. Peter's persona was to be inclusive: he frequently asked me to join the New York journalists to lunch with them, although the meeting was intended as an informal way to consolidate new ideas among the reporters, and to instruct them in the latest news about journalistic standards and what was going on from the editorial desks in Paris and Washington, D.C..
Peter met every possible occasion to put the agency's best foot forward by participating in many meetings in the US and Canada where we required a stabilizing, authoritative reporter's voice of the agency from the trenches. We met senior executive staff at places as far flung and diverse editorially as CNN Atlanta, FOXNews in New York, The New York Post, Newsday and the Toronto Star. At Canwest Newspapers, when the principals of the trans-Canadian newspaper chain failed to show at a meeting deliberately scheduled in Ottawa, Peter show intractable forbearance and the four of us in the group split up to manage other commitments in Toronto. He succeeded in making the meeting later that day, or the next, and the text deal was signed. Our marketing meetings at major networks - organized by Peter - frequently started with anecdotes from major world hot spots,like Iraq, where Peter had originally made the acquaintance of his counterparts. On meeting them, once again, he enjoyed regaling his news colleagues, sharing stories that created immediate credibility for the agency with the ring of friendship that had opened the door to us in the first place.
Personally, Peter was always considerate of others and shared charming stories with me of his early days in New York working at UPI. When there was a shooting in Harlem that Peter wanted to run down, his Bureau Chief simply told the young reporter that these were everyday matters and that it would be a first for anyone in New York to enquire after sources. (My recollection please understand, lacks the verve of the first person, so please excuse me in the attempt to retell the raconteur's tale).
There are a million stories, as when recently an ailing AFP journalist in New York received a call in his hospital room from Peter, after recovering from surgery. "Peter's a tough boss, and he's a great guy to be calling me to show his concern", he said. I knew that to be true.
I don't recall what had prompted the retelling, but there's the incident Peter confided in over lunch about the time when his mother, many decades before, was seriously ill. Peter was overheard by a man talking about his sick mother's fondness for Nathan's hot dogs. His story must have been heart-rending to the stranger as it had been memorable to me, because that man as it turned out, worked for Nathan's. The next day a delivery of abundant wieners was delivered to the Mackler residence. This was an early indication of his empathy and concern for others that he loved.
Finally, there were many conversations both in French and English, the later being most memorable to me, where Peter unequivocally stressed his honor to work for AFP and the AFP Foundation he founded. He also shared with me his unending commitment to Agence France-Presse and the unreserved support and nurturing spirit that had informed his career.
I am reminded of the old Irish saying, "is this a private fight or can anyone join in?" and in so doing Peter did join in and, instructively, he did so decently.
Joseph Volpe
NY Bureau
Peter met every possible occasion to put the agency's best foot forward by participating in many meetings in the US and Canada where we required a stabilizing, authoritative reporter's voice of the agency from the trenches. We met senior executive staff at places as far flung and diverse editorially as CNN Atlanta, FOXNews in New York, The New York Post, Newsday and the Toronto Star. At Canwest Newspapers, when the principals of the trans-Canadian newspaper chain failed to show at a meeting deliberately scheduled in Ottawa, Peter show intractable forbearance and the four of us in the group split up to manage other commitments in Toronto. He succeeded in making the meeting later that day, or the next, and the text deal was signed. Our marketing meetings at major networks - organized by Peter - frequently started with anecdotes from major world hot spots,like Iraq, where Peter had originally made the acquaintance of his counterparts. On meeting them, once again, he enjoyed regaling his news colleagues, sharing stories that created immediate credibility for the agency with the ring of friendship that had opened the door to us in the first place.
Personally, Peter was always considerate of others and shared charming stories with me of his early days in New York working at UPI. When there was a shooting in Harlem that Peter wanted to run down, his Bureau Chief simply told the young reporter that these were everyday matters and that it would be a first for anyone in New York to enquire after sources. (My recollection please understand, lacks the verve of the first person, so please excuse me in the attempt to retell the raconteur's tale).
There are a million stories, as when recently an ailing AFP journalist in New York received a call in his hospital room from Peter, after recovering from surgery. "Peter's a tough boss, and he's a great guy to be calling me to show his concern", he said. I knew that to be true.
I don't recall what had prompted the retelling, but there's the incident Peter confided in over lunch about the time when his mother, many decades before, was seriously ill. Peter was overheard by a man talking about his sick mother's fondness for Nathan's hot dogs. His story must have been heart-rending to the stranger as it had been memorable to me, because that man as it turned out, worked for Nathan's. The next day a delivery of abundant wieners was delivered to the Mackler residence. This was an early indication of his empathy and concern for others that he loved.
Finally, there were many conversations both in French and English, the later being most memorable to me, where Peter unequivocally stressed his honor to work for AFP and the AFP Foundation he founded. He also shared with me his unending commitment to Agence France-Presse and the unreserved support and nurturing spirit that had informed his career.
I am reminded of the old Irish saying, "is this a private fight or can anyone join in?" and in so doing Peter did join in and, instructively, he did so decently.
Joseph Volpe
NY Bureau
Henriette Lowisch: Peter introduced this immigrant to baseball
I think of Peter, and the first thing that comes to mind isn't even related to journalism. It's about the time he took me to see the Orioles play at Camden Yards. This was my first baseball game, and I, the new immigrant, had asked for an introduction.
I remember the day as freezing, and despite Peter's best efforts, I remained clueless as to why Americans would prefer this slow-motion game to a quick and dirty soccer match. Soon I was whining, but he made me sit through the whole ordeal. Predictably, next morning I woke up with a cold. Went to work. Sure did, just as he would have done.
Which brings us to journalism: Man, but was this guy demanding. Impatient. Could be ruthless, at times. Yet for someone like me, who had arrived at the Washington office of Agence France-Presse with near boundless ambition, he was perfect. I liked the fact that he cut to the chase, that he was no diplomat. I wasn't French, either.
Peter did everything at great speed, the quintessential wire service man. He valued his time, and he didn't suffer to be bored. I took him to dinner at a restaurant in Berlin, once, and this gang of street musicians came in, playing the same old tunes he'd heard a million times, in Paris, New York, London. They very nearly ruined his evening.
And then, amid all his impatience, he could be immeasurably patient. With the kids he taught, at Project Plato. With the Pentagon, which he had to cajole into treating AFP reporters as equals. I ended up learning a lot from him about how to succeed as a foreigner, in a company full of French traditions (read: interminable lunches).
Whenever he was truly passionate about something, Peter had all the time in the world to make it happen. He became a man of infinite love and patience. This was obvious when he spoke of his family. I suspect that it was also true for baseball.
Peter understood the news as few of us did. He was an excellent, if not the most patient of editors. As a reporter, he was up there with the best of the best. None I knew had his passion for journalism.
Oh how much we will miss his passion!
I remember the day as freezing, and despite Peter's best efforts, I remained clueless as to why Americans would prefer this slow-motion game to a quick and dirty soccer match. Soon I was whining, but he made me sit through the whole ordeal. Predictably, next morning I woke up with a cold. Went to work. Sure did, just as he would have done.
Which brings us to journalism: Man, but was this guy demanding. Impatient. Could be ruthless, at times. Yet for someone like me, who had arrived at the Washington office of Agence France-Presse with near boundless ambition, he was perfect. I liked the fact that he cut to the chase, that he was no diplomat. I wasn't French, either.
Peter did everything at great speed, the quintessential wire service man. He valued his time, and he didn't suffer to be bored. I took him to dinner at a restaurant in Berlin, once, and this gang of street musicians came in, playing the same old tunes he'd heard a million times, in Paris, New York, London. They very nearly ruined his evening.
And then, amid all his impatience, he could be immeasurably patient. With the kids he taught, at Project Plato. With the Pentagon, which he had to cajole into treating AFP reporters as equals. I ended up learning a lot from him about how to succeed as a foreigner, in a company full of French traditions (read: interminable lunches).
Whenever he was truly passionate about something, Peter had all the time in the world to make it happen. He became a man of infinite love and patience. This was obvious when he spoke of his family. I suspect that it was also true for baseball.
Peter understood the news as few of us did. He was an excellent, if not the most patient of editors. As a reporter, he was up there with the best of the best. None I knew had his passion for journalism.
Oh how much we will miss his passion!
- -- Henriette Lowisch
Gerry Aziakou: I feel blessed to have known this giant of a man.
I can still remember when Peter first arrived at AFP's English desk in Paris more than 28 years ago. It literally felt like a tornado had hit the building. He had arrived and things were never going to be the same. In his inimitable rapid-fire style, he talked about the need for CHANGE, for structure, for a more professional service. He had a plan to do just that and and he relentlessly, methodically set about putting it into practice. The result today is something we can all be proud of: a disciplined, motivated and respected English-language wire service.
A lot has already been said about his many accomplishments as a field correspondent, an editor, a manager or as a mentor to budding journalists.
What I will remember most about Peter, apart from his incredible vitality and wry sense of humor , is his phenomenal ability to lead, to inspire and to summon the best in people. No one was better at giving inspiring speeches whatever the occasion. He was a born leader and like many others I affectionately referred to him as "The General".
To say that he was a workaholic would be an understatement. No one has given more of his time and energy to AFP, a company that he loves so much.
Peter was very demanding but he was also a man of compassion. He cared deeply about the people around him: his family, his friends, his colleagues.
A few years ago while working in AFP's Washington office, I had a malaise and it was feared I was having a heart attack. It was Peter who drove me to the hospital. I can still remember his face as he tried to talk me into not passing out. He ran several red lights along the way and looked more concerned than I was.
Peter was simply THE BEST.
I have not hurt this much since I lost my own father.
I miss you, Bro. I salute you. RIP
-- Gerard M. Aziakou
A lot has already been said about his many accomplishments as a field correspondent, an editor, a manager or as a mentor to budding journalists.
What I will remember most about Peter, apart from his incredible vitality and wry sense of humor , is his phenomenal ability to lead, to inspire and to summon the best in people. No one was better at giving inspiring speeches whatever the occasion. He was a born leader and like many others I affectionately referred to him as "The General".
To say that he was a workaholic would be an understatement. No one has given more of his time and energy to AFP, a company that he loves so much.
Peter was very demanding but he was also a man of compassion. He cared deeply about the people around him: his family, his friends, his colleagues.
A few years ago while working in AFP's Washington office, I had a malaise and it was feared I was having a heart attack. It was Peter who drove me to the hospital. I can still remember his face as he tried to talk me into not passing out. He ran several red lights along the way and looked more concerned than I was.
Peter was simply THE BEST.
I have not hurt this much since I lost my own father.
I miss you, Bro. I salute you. RIP
-- Gerard M. Aziakou
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