Although a recent letter to the editor paid me high compliments, I disagreed with the premise.

The reader wrote, in part: “It is so wonderful that you have had a long career as a newsman and yet never became cynical. That usually happens to older reporters and policemen.”

No, reader, I don’t agree with that assertion. It is some kind of an old wives’ tale. While it is true that reporters and cops get too much exposure to society’s underbelly and a larger perspective than most, they are far less than cynical because they have also had a big dose of community warmth and caring—plenty to keep things in balance. Cops and reporters get pretty discouraged with politics, declining morals, and the court system, but those concerns are felt by everyone in all professions.

The thought of cynical cops and reporters rushed back into my head a few days after I read that reader’s letter because I came across a column I wrote in the Lansing State Journal nearly 20 years ago. First, I will reprint some of it and than I will give you a 20-years-later follow-up to make my point quite clear.

A young Lansing policeman, Mark Murray, was shot three times by an assailant. He was in the hospital recovering from bullet wounds in the head, arm and jaw when I wrote a column and asked readers to drop him a line to cheer him up. A week later, Mark called and my column reported his words:

“Bear with me for a minute, please, because I have some things to say to you and your readers and I’m not sure I can control my emotions,” he said.

Mark then went on, pausing occasionally to clear his throat, and doing his best to say, “Thanks.” He said it this way:

“You put an item in the ‘Onlooker’ about me when I was in the hospital. At the end of the column, you asked your readers to drop me a line. The outpouring of warmth and concern from so many total strangers had me, my fiancée and my parents in tears for days. You’d never believe what your readers did, Mr. Hough.

“They sent me several hundred letters. We quit counting after 300. They sent me more than 30 beautiful plants and bouquets.

“Reading the mail was really something. A little boy sent me a note along with 32 cents from his piggy bank. A little girl sent me a note and enclosed two Band-Aids. A letter from some other small youngsters had a note and some change. They said they wanted to buy an ice cream cone for me. And those hundreds of letters from compassionate adults. It was hard to believe. You must be incredibly proud of the readers of your column,” he said.

“There is just no way I can thank everyone for the things they did for me after that shooting,” Mark said.

“I’m told that police from many area departments rushed in to aid in the search for the gunman. Heck, even the Fort Wayne, IN, police sent flowers to my hospital room. Imagine that, I felt so honored to hear from so many people. After all, I’m just a common, regular 26-year-old policeman who was doing his job. I’m sure I didn’t deserve all that attention,” he said.

Mark said there were so many flowers and plants in his room at Sparrow Hospital that the Lansing Police Department had to send a police van over there to haul them to Mark’s home.

Now, nearly 20 years later, I thought a call to Mark might reveal any cynicism he may have absorbed on his job. I asked him if he still loved the folks he served today as much as he did those who responded to him 20 years ago.

“My God, Jim, all cops my age see evidence daily of great people out there. No, Jim, I don’t think I can ever become cynical. I have worked as a beat cop, a motorcycle cop, internal affairs and under cover. Today, I am a sergeant in charge of some things, but I have seen it all and feel no cynicism creeping in. Recently, a policeman friend of mine was shot up in a gun battle and the community rushed to his aid just as they did to me so long ago. A good cop soon learns the importance of giving the public good, straightforward and honest treatment because he knows they are not all scum of society. He knows the bulk of our society is pretty darned special,” Mark said.

I rest my case.