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Main and over the right side of the Duck Pond. What's more, once you start looking into Ridge Riley's background, you'll discover he started the university's pres- tigious Distinguished Alumni Award (in 1951) and also developed the concept for the popular Pioneers Alumni reunions (in 1957) for erstwhile students who graduated 50 years earlier. Before going on, readers should under- stand that I am violating basic journal- ism standards by referring to Ridge and two others in this column, John Black and Jim Coogan, by their first names rather than their last. Calling friends by their last names just doesn't feel right in this particular instance. So, just who is Ridge Riley? The best source for the answer can be found in the voluminous Riley collection at the Pattee and Paterno Library Archives. One of the hundreds of docu- ments in his files is a June 1989 Town & Gown magazine cover story that con- cisely describes Ridge's background. One of the first things you should know is that he was born to be a journal- ist. He had grown up in Annapolis, Md., wanting to be a Navy officer and wound up graduating from Penn State partially because of a Navy-Penn State football game in 1923. That game, one of the most significant in school history, was the catalyst for Ridge Riley's destiny. 'A half century love affair' Hugh Ridgley Riley Jr. was named after his father, who had followed his father into the newspaper world. The elder Ri- leys had been editors and publishers in Maryland, and Ridge's father also cov- ered Naval Academy sports for metro- politan newspapers. "When Ridgley (Jr.) was in high school, he began helping his father… [and] 'Rid- gley' soon became 'Ridge' as a stringer reporter for his father," the Town & Gown article stated. "In the fall of 1923, a reporting trip brought the Riley team to a certain 'happy valley' For the first time in thirty years of playing the Penn- sylvania State College, the midshipmen of Navy had agreed to travel to Nittany Valley. … State College made every ef- fort to welcome Navy. Store windows were bedecked in blue and gold with 'Welcome Navy,' not 'Beat Navy.' " Ridge was impressed by the hospitality and the surprising outcome of the game. Penn State halfback "Light Horse" Harry Wilson put on one of the greatest individual single-game performances in school football history, which helped make him a first-team All-American at the end of the season. He scored three touchdowns on a 55-yard interception, a 95-yard kickoff return and a 72-yard run on a fake reverse, and Penn State de- feated the previously unbeaten Middies, 21-3. It was Homecoming, no less, and Ridge must have sensed something about the experience that stirred his emotions. When he failed to get an appointment to the Naval Academy in 1927 because a flu-induced infection had left him with a shortened left leg, Ridge turned to Penn State, which was upgrading its journal- ism program into one of the nation's best. He not only fell in love with Penn State but also with a coed working alongside him at the student newspaper who would become his wife, Margaret Tschan. They would have three children, the oldest of whom, Anne, would one day become a Penn State trustee. Margaret's commit- ment to the school matched Ridge's, and for decades they were known widely as "Mr. and Mrs. Penn State." "More than any single individual I have ever known or known about, Ridge wanted Penn State to be Number One," wrote Joe Paterno in the foreword for Riley's book. "Number One in its com- mitment to our commonwealth as the state university; Number One in the quality of life it offered our academic community. … Ridge had a half century love affair with our university and our athletic teams." Paterno was the last person to talk to Ridge. They were in the coach's kitchen on Jan. 6, 1976, discussing the last chap- ter in his book. "Joe, where do we stand? Where are we right now?" Paterno re- membered Ridge saying. At that mo- ment, Ridge Riley collapsed and died of a massive heart attack. I was among the thousands who were shocked to learn of Ridge's sudden death. I was then working for NBC News in Chicago, and just days before, on New Year's Eve, I had talked to Ridge in the press box of the Louisiana Superdome while covering Penn State's Sugar Bowl matchup with Alabama for Football News. He was his usual friendly self, asking about my career and family and discussing the Nittany Lions' chances of beating 12-point favorite Alabama. They didn't, losing 13-6. I know Ridge was disappointed with the outcome but pleased with how his favorite team had played, because he wrote about it in his own inimitable style in his last Football Letter: "The Lions, playing up to their full potential and some even beyond seasonal bests, came close to perpetrat- ing an historic modern-day Bowl upset." Mentoring young journalists From the time I met him as a freshman in 1955, he was always Ridge. That's what he wanted, not Mr. Riley, as he told me and other aspiring young sportswriters when we first talked to him. In my four undergraduate years, I wasn't as close to Ridge as other journalism students, like John Black. My mentor was Jim Coogan, one of Ridge's best friends, and they worked together for more than 20 years. They were similar in their persona, their rapport with people and their eagerness to help mentor young journalists on the student newspaper. They also had a love for Penn State. Their friendship started while working for the school newspaper, then the semi-weekly Penn State Colle- gian, when Ridge was a freshman in the fall of 1928. Ridge was 10 months older than Jim, but Jim was already a junior when Ridge, a few months after his dis- charge from the Navy, became one of some 4,000 students enrolled at the main campus. Jim became the editor of the paper the next year, and when Ridge was a senior he was the editor. Upon graduation, Jim embarked on his intended newspaper career in eastern

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