We’ve lost our publisher, our leader and our muse; rest in peace Marty

Where do I begin? Coming on the heels of Rich Firato’s death, then finding out the day after Marty Cheek died Sept. 9, I learn Mike Cox, the founder of Anaerobe Systems, and his newly formed sustainability company, Anaerobe Energy, died Sept. 10. (See his obituary on page 7.)

I recall reading a post on social media that said we lost “The Pirate, The Publisher and The Scientist all too soon.” The community of Morgan Hill has taken three gut punches. Three men who created businesses, three men who gave back to the community, and three men who will be missed dearly by their families and friends.

To encapsulate my feelings about my friend and business partner Marty Cheek in 765 words seems impossible. He was more than a business partner. He was a close friend.

I first met Marty when I was the editor for the Morgan Hill Times and he authored a column. He would come into the office once a week or so to chat. We’d have lunch now and then and he invited me to several parties at his home.

Shortly after I was laid off in 2011, Marty asked if I’d join him in this adventure of publishing a bi-weekly newspaper featuring stories about the good things going on in Morgan Hill. Both of us knew there were more than enough to fill the pages. It took us about a year to pull things together and in the summer of 2013 we launched Morgan Hill Life. Three months later I convinced Mark “Fenny” Fenichel to be our marketing director. It’s essentially been the three of us since.

Marty and I were similar in our beliefs about the importance of journalism and the need for a newspaper to have a vital role in that community. But we’re also different in so many ways. Marty was a thespian and a lover of the symphony. I enjoyed my San Francisco 49er season tickets, golf, and listening to sports talk radio.

And he was smart. A genius in some ways. The way he could quote authors, name symphonic pieces, and his grasp of history was at times awe inspiring.

He always told me that I was the better reporter but that he was the better writer. I couldn’t argue with that. His way with words was masterful and editing his stories was a breeze. We were a good team, improving each others’ stories, fixing each others’ mistakes, and working to put out a top-notch publication. I know he was very proud of what we have accomplished the past decade.

He was also the hardest worker. The paper was his life, and later his Vision-2020 became his obsession.

But what made him an even more amazing human was his compassion for others. When my dad died in 2014, Marty came to the service even though he’d never met my dad. When my wife Kathryn’s mom died July 20 of this year, Marty came to the service and spoke about her.

His love of the community was evident in everything he did. He supported the South Valley Symphony and the South Valley Civic Theater. He was adamant about joining the Chamber of Commerce and supporting them. When we started the paper he wanted to always include a nonprofit profile on the front page, and for the most part succeeded.
He was also adamant about mentoring young people interested in the profession. You can read some of them in this paper; Calvin Nuttall, Kaylee Arca, Keira Silver. He recently began co-teaching a creative writing and advanced creative writing classes with Sobrato instructor Chrissy Hunger.

Silver told me — and you read her account on the front page story — that Marty is the reason she is now studying journalism in college. “Marty ignited a spark in me I will be forever grateful for,” Silver said.

And, since 2020 he became obsessed with his Vision-2020, his goal of saving democracy and ending wars around the globe. His books “The Path to Peace: A Vision-2020 Plan to Unite Humanity,” “Vision-2020: Be a Hero for Humanity,” and “Humanity: A Vision-2020 Novel” were written to further those goals.

As it stands now we will put the Sept. 25 issue of Gilroy Life on hiatus and likely do the same with the Oct. 2 issue of this paper while we deal with our grief and plan for the future without our publisher, our leader and our muse. I’m going to miss that damn smile and his quirky sense of humor.

I hope I did you proud, Marty. May you rest in peace.