Quiet leader made a big difference

Editor’s note: This column is being reprinted from Feb. 21, 2007. As Jack points out, leadership comes in a variety of forms. There are vocal leaders, there are those who lead by example and there are leaders who are followed simply because they have earned the respect of their community. It seems Jack Payne may have been all three.

Leadership is a complicated thing.

Most of us tend to think of leaders in terms of presidents or generals, the folks who stand at the battlements and yell, “Charge!”

But I’ve been thinking about a different kind of leader.

This is the sort of leader you follow simply because you trust his or her judgment.

I’ve been thinking about Jack Payne.

Jackson was a lot of things during his 90-plus years.

He was a baker. He was a manager. He was a retailer. He was an innovator. But most of all, in his own quiet way, he was a leader.

He showed the rest of us where to go.

Sometimes it was by his actions, leading by example. Sometimes it was with his words. And sometimes it was simply with the strength of his personality.

Jack was one of those people that you instantly wanted to think well of you. Without much consideration, it quickly developed that you wanted his stamp of approval. His judgment was sound. His values were solid.

And you knew you were better off if Jack thought you were doing the right thing.

I don’t know how far my family’s connections with Jack Payne go, but I’m guessing it’s more than 50 years.

My parents bought the old Redkey Times-Journal in 1946, about the time Jack was running the bakery in Redkey. Old issues from that era show a connection between the two.

I don’t remember running into Jack much until I returned to Jay County in 1974. Early in 1975, I joined the Portland Rotary Club, where Jack was already a member.

It was as if I’d suddenly gained an uncle.

Each week, either before or after or during the meeting, we’d get together for a talk.

Jack’s agenda was always the community. And when I say the community, I mean the larger community.

Jack Payne was way ahead of most folks when it came to thinking big.

His idea of the community stretched from Fort Recovery, Ohio, to Albany, from Ridgeville to Geneva, from rural Union City to rural Pennville.

He read the newspaper as if his life depended on it, and he always wanted to talk about the news. Stories were suggested, gentle critiques were offered, and an editorial nudge came now and then.

Now, keep in mind that I was about 26 or 27 at the time and Jack was about 60. It didn’t matter. As far as he was concerned, we were equals.

We weren’t, of course. He was the leader. I was the student. The subject was our larger community and how best to improve it.

Jack cared passionately about education, about improving lives and creating new opportunities. These weren’t just slogans with him. They were his bread and butter, the fundamentals.

From the outside, the life of Jackson Payne might be that of just another businessman, a guy who baked bread for a living, then sold TVs and appliances.

But that would be missing the bigger story.

That would be missing Jack’s leadership.

It came at you subtly. One minute he might be speaking out at a town meeting, the next he might simply be offering his seal of approval to a decision he thought wise. Then again, he might be urging a young editor to adjust his priorities and perspective.

When Jack was in his prime, it’s impossible to underestimate the power of his opinion.

He had no soapbox; he was a newspaper reader not a newspaper publisher.

But it’s safe to say that when he came down on one side or the other of a public issue, thousands of people followed.

It happened because they had come to trust his judgment. And, as far as I know, he never, ever, had to yell “charge!”