By Jason Bowen

I knew DeWayne Patterson was well-loved in the Rainsville/Sand Mountain area before I became his co-worker in 2002 at The Weekly Post in Rainsville.

But a catfish plate at a local restaurant showed just how much.

DeWayne and I went to lunch with two other co-workers one day and all four of us ordered catfish plates. The waitress brought out three plates at once, sat two of them in front of our other co-workers and sat the third one in front of me. She then turned to DeWayne, turned back to me, picked up the plate she sat in front of me and placed it in front of DeWayne. She then looked back at me to inform me it would be “nine minutes” before the next batch of catfish would be ready.

DeWayne, who tried to give me the plate because that’s how he was, and I laughed about that story a lot over the next 22 years. We laughed about a lot of things over the last 22 years, even at times when most people wouldn’t think there was much to laugh about.

But no matter how hard times were or what the other went through, we kept laughing, kept remembering good times, kept telling the same old stories and laughing as if it was the first time we’d heard them. The countless retellings of classic stories involving coaches and players that I coaxed him to tell so often are seared in my mind. And I could make him laugh until cried with my recounting of covering a wedding at dirt track racing venue, or my complaining about how could I end up with five end pieces of sliced tomatoes during those Meatloaf Thursdays at Pine Ridge Cafe. “It’s like they’re saving them for you,” I can still hear him saying through laughter. 

Over the years, DeWayne went from being the first guy to hire me in the journalism profession to one of my best friends. He has meant a lot of things to a lot of people. Most know him as a great guy and the absolute best to have ever had a byline printed in a newspaper in this area, and I venture to say, this state. That’s my opinion, sure, but there are a lot of Alabama Press Association and AP Managing Editor awards I can present as evidence.

To me, he’s the last of the true newspapermen, the ink-stained, scoop-hunting, story-telling kind that wanted to tell the story, not create it or be it. He could write a story or column that would bring you to tears, either in humor or sadness, and he did it in way that told the story, not just tugged at your emotions. DeWayne was great at all facets of the newspaper business. He wrote about controversial subjects with care and responsibility, giving both sides their say. He turned many a sports game stories into more than just one about the Xs and Os, highlighting the people and not necessarily the final score. DeWayne’s feature-writing ability was second-to-none. He could reach into people’s hearts and minds and convey their thoughts and feelings. If you didn’t know a person DeWayne wrote a story about, you felt as if you did by the time you finished reading it.

And while DeWayne wanted to be anything but the center of attention, he often was. Places he went, people wanted to say “hello” or tell him how much they enjoyed a story he’d written. DeWayne once wrote a column and one of the lines mentioned how much he enjoyed banana pudding. The next day, bowls of homemade banana puddings began being dropped off at the office.

We kidded DeWayne about his legend status, but the humbleness in him just downplayed it.

I was blessed to know DeWayne. I knew him as a mentor and colleague — two years after I left the Weekly Post and joined the Sentinel, I remember how excited I was when he told me he was joining our staff — and as a great newspaperman. I knew him as publisher, and with all due respect all of them I’ve worked for, he was my favorite.

But I was fortunate to just know him as my friend. We talked fantasy baseball/football like our lives depended on how our teams’ fared. We relived old stories, talked tirelessly about legendary local coaches and players, discussed old wrestling and even older country music.

In those Weekly Post days, we didn’t have to turn out a paper on Saturday after those Friday night high school football games, but we’d still meet up most weeks back at the office to break down the games and see how accurate the mysterious Bum Pickens’ predictions were. Sometimes it was just us, and other times we were joined by some of his friends, guys that became friends of mine. At the Sentinel when we were producing a paper after games, we probably made Junior Lewis and his press crew wait a little longer than needed because we were breaking down the games as we worked.

Simple times, great times.

In late 2022, DeWayne’s health issues began. He covered his last football game, ironically coached by a Benefield and a Pruitt (Fyffe vs. Pisgah in Oct. 2022). A few months later he could no longer walk without assistance. On Valentine’s Day 2023, DeWayne got the diagnosis. It was ALS. It was awful to hear the doctor say those words, but I remember DeWayne not looking shaken. I believe he expected those words, and he was resolved to not let the disease get the best of him. He knew the incurable disease would take his physical abilities and eventually his life, taking him away from the people he loved, especially his earthly pride and joy son Luke, and end the career he cherished.

But ALS did not defeat DeWayne. Sure there were moments of frustration, but DeWayne stayed DeWayne. He worked as long as he could, still doing stories despite his physical capabilities being hampered. He stayed the same to his family and friends. As he lost the ability to speak, he’d simply nod when you asked if he was OK, then by using his eyes, type a question on his communication tablet (praise God for that device) asking about you or your family or the people at the paper. 

Looking for the story, not want to be one. 

But he was the story on Jan. 13 when he was inducted into the Jackson County Sports Hall of Fame. Thanks to the efforts of Robi Coker, Jason Traylor and the wonderful staff at Collinsville Healthcare, DeWayne was able to attend the banquet that he’d looked forward to for months. As his induction video ended and I went place his hall-of-fame medallion around his neck, a single tear rolled down his right check as I fought back tears of my own.

Less than month later, we said our goodbyes to DeWayne at his memorial service on Thursday. Speakers Coker, Glen Hicks and Judge John Graham delivered heartfelt messages about what DeWayne meant to them. Everyone in the packed funeral chapel could have done the same.

This is my attempt to thank and honor the man played a big role in my life, professional and personally. And I felt it only fitting that this tribute about the last great newspaperman run in the newspaper first.

Unfortunately, DeWayne’s story has ended. But his story will continue on, cemented in time like all those he penned in newspaper copy for 34 years. We were blessed to have DeWayne cover and chronicle Jackson and DeKalb counties. 

In case anyone ever wonders what I’ll always remember most about the local newspaper industry, I already know my answer: “By DeWayne Patterson.”

› Jason Bowen is the sports editor of The Jackson County Sentinel