It was fun competing against Ron Sailor, the TV reporter – turned – preacher who died last week at age 61. Sailor and I worked nightside, which meant we frequently ended up crowding around the same story. Sailor was always the loudest guy in the vicinity — not because he was a loudmouth. He just had a booming, bass voice that I heard nightly for years.
On numerous occasions, we’d find ourselves at the old APD Homicide Task Force office on Somerset Terrace. There was plenty of room in front of the building, but photogs always liked to crowd competing reporters together into a tight space — a subtly sadistic twist exacerbated when Sailor was part of the equation. Not only was he loud, he was a man of some size. Because TV newscast producers are part of a grand media conspiracy, Sailor’s stories on WSB (and later WXIA), and mine on WAGA would frequently pop up at exactly the same time during the half-hour 11pm newscast.
This meant Sailor and I would start delivering our live reports at exactly the same time. It would take all the concentration I could muster to ignore his booming voice while I feebly attempted to make mine heard.
Once, Sailor and former mayor Andy Young spent a night or three on Atlanta’s streets, producing a report that sought to give insight into Atlanta’s homeless population. Young and Sailor donned skullies and thrift-store clothing and reported that they, too, were shunned or abused by folks downtown who’d mistaken them for homeless people.
I read about it in the AJC, and wished I’d done it. In 1996, I kinda did the same thing during the Olympics. It was a total ripoff of what Ron Sailor had done.
The last time I saw Sailor, I was knocking on his door because he’d become part of some unflattering story involving his finances; there had been allegations he had grifted some folk. We were giving Sailor celebrity treatment on a story that was otherwise really nobody’s business. I went to his door sans camera, unwilling to bum-rush the guy. He answered graciously, declined comment and we left.
Since then, I’d seen him do Wayfield Foods commercials and heard about his career as a preacher. I’d read about the issues his sons faced — one, as a disgraced former legislator, the other as a man convicted of murdering his girlfriend.
I was a green newcomer to Atlanta when I became Ron Sailor’s competitor. He was always friendly, willing to share his experience and seemed to know what he was doing. At age 61, he died too young.