Monday, September 11, 2000
IN MY LIFE
Little big man hangs tough
By Marty Hogan
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Around town, he sometimes was referred to as “little Steve.” That appellation was accurate if not sensitive. Steve Hoffman never stood taller than 4-foot-6.
His stature made him recognizable, of course, and a shining personality helped him move easily among community leaders, politicians, athletic figures, show business names, businessmen, clergy.
I've known Steve for 40 years, but it has been within the past 10 to 15 years that I feel I have gotten to know him well. During that time, “little Steve's” courage, tenacity and good humor have been a model and maybe he has made me a better person than I used to be.
Steve Hoffman was born and raised in Brooklyn. He graduated from Defiance College in Defiance, Ohio, and, after working at newspapers in Sidney and Fairborn, he came to Cincinnati in 1959 as publicity director for the Cincinnati Royals of the National Basketball Association.
Steve left the Royals 1964 and joined a local advertising/public relations agency as an account executive.
He was successful there, but in two years he returned to his roots as a journalist. He joined The Enquirer as a reporter and subsequently became a sports writer, TV critic and reporter again. At any height, that's an interesting career.
But Steve Hoffman doesn't stand 4-foot-6 any more. He doesn't stand at all.
He has had five surgeries from 1979 to 1998. He describes the problem as a narrowing of the spinal cord.
The condition slowly robbed him of the ability to walk, but in the parlance of athletics, Steve made a halftime adjustment.
“I moved to a walker,” he said, “but I was able to drive a car with hand controls and I was able to get around,” to meetings, to parties, to friends' homes and to his favorite recreation — college basketball games, especially Xavier games at Cincinnati Gardens.
About 1983, it became apparent that a daily commute from home to office had graduated from difficult to impossible and Steve began working from his home.
“That was a blessing,” he said. “The Enquirer kept me around and I'm very thankful. That gave me a lot of purpose.
“Now I'm just moving in another direction.”
On the Sunday following his last surgery in March, '98, Steve held court in his hospital room for a parade of visitors regaling them with stories and reminiscence.
That last surgery was to save the use of his arms, but within a few days of that procedure, Steve lost coherence and occasionally consciousness. He also lost the use of right arm. For the Hoffman family it began a grim odyssey.
A shunt was inserted to relieve brain swelling. He later embarked on a cycle of moving from the hospital to Drake Center for therapy, to two other nursing homes, repeat trips to the hospital and back to Drake Center and finally to some measure of peace at Beechwood Home, a marvelous care center in East Walnut Hills.
There, he undergoes therapy, works at his computer with his left hand and contributes to the home's publication for patients and staff. On the wall of his room is a picture of Steve eye-to-eye with Wilt Chamberlain. Steve is standing on a table. There also are pictures of Steve with Bob Hope and the late Paul Dixon.
But despite his difficulties, his complaints have been few and quiet.
And only when he is pressed will he discuss the turns his life has taken.
“Don't say I don't complain,” he said. “I do, but I try to keep it to a minimum and only to my intimates, my wife and guy and gals I trust.
“I have petty complaints. I'm well off, but this isn't living at home. I just take it day by day and have a few laughs.”
What does all of this have to do with MY life? Let me share a couple of vignettes.
Five years ago, I broke a leg in three places and Steve Hoffman called frequently.
One evening, Steve — able to get around only with the aid of a walker — called to apologize for letting a week pass without getting in touch.
I visit Steve, but probably not as frequently as I should. I saw him recently and told him I was sorry to be negligent, but that my wife had had surgery and I, uh, had to learn what buttons to hit on the microwave.
Steve chided me, saying I should have told him about the surgery. “I would've called her,” he said.
I'll be seeing him again soon, today perhaps.
We'll talk about families and politics and books and sports and the public service and occasional weirdness of newspapers.
I might even congratulate myself for my loyalty and attention to my friend. But that would be self-delusion.
The truth is Steve Hoffman gives more to me than I can ever give him.
He allows me to be in the presence of a big, big man.
In My Life is about recent significant moments — big and small — in people's lives. Readers are invited to submit columns, which become the property of The Enquirer. E-mail Nancy Berlier, Deputy Features Editor: nberlier@enquirer.com.
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