Time to say farewell was the title of my uncle Tom Warden’s last column printed on Feb. 28, 2001, in the Gasconade County Republican. Tom died on Oct. 8. His obituary can be found on page 9.

He labored, as he liked to say, in the vineyard of the written word for over 40 years at The Republican as its editor.

His column, “Our Back Yard” first appeared in print on Thursday, Nov. 20, 1958. I’m sure most readers did not recognize the author, Owen Lee Gabbin (only gabbin).

Gabbin was Tom’s pen name. In the late 1950s and early 1960s, he had a second column which appeared on the outdoor or farming page entitled “Backwoods Browsing.”

On April 9, 1959, Tom was listed as the Assistant Editor of The Republican.

Gabbin’s name disappeared from the weekly column on May 13, 1965, even though it was still being published. Five months later, on Oct. 7, the end of the column was signed with the initials T.C.W.

It took another six years — May 13, 1971 — for Tom’s  name to appear with his weekly column.

Over the years Tom shared with his readers his wisdom. One that comes to mind was his love of birds, something he inherited from his father, Ralph.

He once wrote a column looking for a renter for a beautiful house, perfect for a young couple looking to raise a family. The house was in a quiet neighborhood with plenty of space for a growing family.

The renters he sought were blue birds. The bluebird house was located in his back yard.

Most years, on the publication before his birthday, Oct. 13, his column lamented the pains of growing older.

Before his 67th birthday in 2000 he wrote, “This Friday, Oct 13, I will solidify my membership in the prune juice generation which formally begins when one reaches the lamentable age of 65 and becomes forever dependent upon a Medicare card, supplemental insurance for health care and handouts from friends. I stand, at the moment, at the portal of the great unknown ... a time of great failings — failing body parts, failing eyesight, failing eardrums, failing muscles, failing memory, failing organs, etcetera. The only comforting aspect of all this is that I tend to forget everything that has gone wrong with my body and I don’t care.”

Tom’s life at the newspaper started long before he became its editor, and eventually its publisher with his brother Don. He grew up with hot type and black ink, in a time when a Merganthale Linotype and a single-revolution hand-fed Babcock Press was used to put out the weekly publication.

In his farewell column, Tom reflected on his life: “Were I given the opportunity to relive my life, I would have it no other way than it has been. Over the years our readers have made a profound difference in my life, and I hope I have been able to make a difference in theirs. It has been for me a happy experience, truly a labor of love.

There is no better fitting way to end this tribute for the man whose written word guided The Republican during the last half of the 20th century than to use his parting words.

In those days long gone by which I have been fond of remembering on occasion, when the Linotype operator finished a news story he set a line of type — for the folks in the backshop who composed the pages — that contained only four characters and indicated this was the end of the story:

-30-

If you would like to read Tom’s “My Back Yard” from Oct. 11, 2000, and Feb. 28, 2001, they can be found on our website.