On a dark, frigid afternoon in the Pacific Northwest just two days before Christmas, the email from The Seattle Times that popped up on my phone took my breath away.
“Passing along sad news from Beth,” wrote Angela Lo, my former colleague, referencing the Metro editor working the news desk that day. ”Bill Kossen died of a heart attach today. He collapsed after a running event.”
I stopped in my tracks on our walk with a couple of our friends. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Not Bill, I thought. Not one of the good guys.
Bill was only 68 when he collapsed and could not be revived during a Holiday Fun Run at Magnuson Park in Seattle. The news sent shock waves through The Times. That would include not only people who work there now, but many more people no longer with the paper.
Even though Bill retired in 2015, ending a 25-year run at The Times, Bill’s death was felt deeply by all who knew him. Bill was selfless. He retired, in part, to spare a younger journalist from being laid off at a time when the paper was cutting staff. In his retirement, he volunteered many hours at Garfield High School.
Bill was a dear friend. I got to know him in 2006, when he embraced me during my awkward landing in News and Business from Sports. Bill was bright, informed about all things Seattle, and hilariously funny. We were both members of the “Northwest Basketball Legends.” I last saw him in May at our annual luncheon.
You think I’m a punster? Bill was the “Pontiff of Puns.” But Bill begged to differ.
When I retired in 2020, he wrote on my farewell page: “It was the best of puns. It was the worst of puns. It is a tale of two guys, Rick and Bill, the so-called Punzi-scheme brothers. So called because that’s what Rick called us. He was the kingpun. No one could top Rick’s wayward way with words. I tried.”
We quickly became “Partners in Pun” as we worked together on the Business section, turning what should have been 10-minute, weekend planning meetings into 30-minute sessions as we rifted back and forth.
Bill was one of several of my Times colleagues who attended my 60th birthday party in Skagit County in 2014. In fact, he was one of the speakers, sharing the page you see above, as well as a box of “Lund’s Swedish Puncakes” he had given me as a present.
When it came time for me to speak, I mentioned that although I never made a lot of money as a journalist, as I stood surrounded by my family and friends, I considered myself that day “a rich man.” That line seemed to resonate with Bill. When I saw him in the office the next week, he said “hey, it’s filthy-rich Rick!”
While Bill was popular at The Times, and one who was great up front as a comical emcee at “Times farewell-to-employee gatherings,” he also had a serious side.
He was a big fan of Rev. Dale Turner, who served for 24 years as senior pastor of University Congregational Church in Seattle, and wrote a religion column for The Seattle Times for 21 years. He had all of Rev. Turner’s devotional booklets. We talked about our faith journeys. Bill was moved by the story I wrote for The Times in 2006 about my church-sponsored, multiracial bus tour of the Deep South called “The Sankofa Journey.” The two of us attended the funeral of our beloved colleague at The Times, Charles Brown, at Mount Zion Baptist Church in Seattle, where Charles was a member. Charles was one of the first African-American reporters at The Times.
I was working under contract with The Times on a part-time basis when Bill passed away. And I was working the night his obituary was to be published. Coincidence? No. It was surreal, and with a heavy heart, that I designed the story on the local “Northwest” section cover print edition. I gave him extra treatment and space, did my best for him, and yet I didn’t, couldn’t, do him justice.
He is deeply missed.
The Inside Scoop 