RIP Milt Hoffman

Milt Hoffman, journalist, mentor and friend, died yesterday at his home in Greenburgh.

He was 86.

I had just heard from him April 1. One of the moving forces on the Westchester County Fair Campaign Practices Committee, he had emailed the committee’s second set of findings from a particularly contentious special election for Yorktown Town Council.

That volunteer work was a natural thing for him to pick up when he retired from The Journal News, after 50 years. He had covered a lot of campaigns. And, and as the head of the newpaper group’s editorial board, he had presided over innumerable municipal, county, state, federal and school candidate interviews, often with his watch lying on the table so that he could keep the more garrulous strictly to time.

Milt was a walking encyclopedia of information and canny observation about the lower Hudson Valley—and anything, anywhere, that pertained to it.

When you needed to know about the first time a national figure had visited, or a local white-collar criminal had been sentenced, or the last time a cow was found wandering in Westchester County, you went to Milt.

He would stare around at the massive stacks of newspapers and clippings on his desk, bookcase, radiator and guest chair for a moment or two, and then burrow into the pile at a particular angle to come up with a relevant item.

He was such a legend that a group of musically-minded journalists nicknamed their band The Milt Hoffman Experience.

When the paper moved its clipping archives out of the newsroom library into a upper-floor storage room, Milt took me up to acquaint me with the new shelves and files, to pass on some of his institutional knowledge.

I had enormous, almost filial respect for that man. He knew so much, and was generous about sharing it. He knew the ins and outs of all kinds of reporting and editing, and was generous about sharing that knowledge too.

On Sept. 11, 2001, Milt and I were early into the newsroom. Making coffee, I noticed he was standing stock still staring at one of the TVs hanging from the ceiling and walked over to see what he was watching. He patted me on the shoulder as I turned to race for the phone. After that, we were too busy to talk.

The funeral will be held Thursday, April 9, at 10 a.m. at the Hebrew Institute of White Plains.

PHOTO/White Plains Rotary Club