Memories of Bill Bregar

Senior Reporter Bill Bregar died April 5 of an apparent heart attack. He covered the industry for more than 31 years. We asked his colleagues, past and present, to share their thoughts.

 

Jim Johnson

Former staff reporter

A light has gone out in journalism.

Bill Bregar's reputation is well-cemented in the plastics industry he covered, and loved to cover, for the past three decades.

Bill's level of interest and technical knowledge about the business, in general, and machinery, in particular, was unsurpassed.

In emailing with a colleague, I wrote this: "Bregar was Bregar, one of a kind. Infuriating, passionate, a reporter's reporter. And under all that a nice guy."

Bill had a passion for journalism that was unsurpassed. But he wasn't only a reporter. He loved to write letters to the editor to local newspapers on issues he felt strongly about. He loved to read the printed page. In an age of email, he would send off copies of articles through the regular mail that caught his eye.

A newsroom can be full of characters, and Bill certainly was at the top of that category. Shirt sometimes rumpled and tie askew after a long day of work, hard-charging when necessary, witty and funny, insightful and sincere and irreverent all at the same time.

But, make no mistake, Bill was a pro through and through as a reporter. His analytical expertise also shined bright when writing columns for Plastics News, offering particularly keen insight while dissecting the issue of the day.

Bill had a strong interest in the history of plastics and the movers and shakers who helped shape the industry. He saw it as his duty to pay respects to those in the industry who passed by writing their obituaries for Plastics News.

And now it's time to do the same for Bill.

 

Jeannie Reall

Former assistant managing editor

Bill and I started at Plastics News on the same day, Feb. 13, 1989, as the publication was launching. We were cube-mates for a time, sharing a computer and jockeying for desk space. Bill had a never-ending need for more desk space. He was always up for a beer or a ballgame, and back then, it was often with co-worker and friend Bruce Vernyi, who passed away in September. Too young. Too soon.

Bill liked graphic novels and, unlike many people these days, didn't mind at all if you called them comic books. Bill was genuine. It's somewhat comforting to think of his words from a recent column, to know that he lived this way: "The only way forward is to live your life. Look at each day you're alive as a gift and focus just on that day."

 

Jeremy Carroll

Former assistant managing editor and video editor

Bill had an amazing ability to connect with people. It's why he was a great reporter, and why he was an excellent coworker and friend.

I'm certain there are hundreds of people in the industry chuckling while remembering their first encounter with him. His unique personality was impossible to forget.

I was lucky enough to take a number of reporting trips with Bill. And people were drawn to him. It didn't matter if we were in Erie, Pa.; Bartlesville, Okla.; or somewhere in between, we were always greeted the same way: Everyone was so excited to see him.

We would pop in unannounced at a processor while on a road trip, and executives would stop what they were doing and suggest we go to lunch. I was there to shoot video while he conducted his interviews for the print edition. Watching him work, it became clear why people were so drawn to him. He would spend more time talking to the person about things not related to the plastics industry than he would about the subject at hand.

He really got to know people in a way few journalists do. People in the industry weren't just sources to him; they were his friends, too.

I'll be forever grateful that he took the time to connect with me, too.

 

Michael Lauzon

Former correspondent

I got to know Bill by working alongside him during NPE. In the Plastics News editorial bunker, Bill would blow into the room each morning with electric frenzy, loaded down with notebooks and press kits for the day's assignments.

Bill was a force of nature. His energy was contagious and I was lucky enough to catch some of it. I was in awe of his prodigious output and his ability to sort out and remember a boatload of details on his beat.

Bill holidayed with his family to Toronto many years ago and that was a chance for my wife Judith and I to get to know him better.

Bill and I had different tastes in many ways, but we connected somehow at some deep level. We respected our differences because we still had a lot to talk about. That connection perhaps foretold a very eerie experience we had at the last NPE we worked together, the 2015 show in Orlando, Fla. One morning we both showed up at the editorial bunker wearing the same PN necktie, a red tie with a zoo theme that was handed out as the official PN tie for an NPE show some 20 years earlier. It was the last time I saw Bill. A few years later I retired, but Bill kept slogging on. I and many others believe the NPE shows won't be the same without him.

Steve Toloken

Assistant managing editor

I'm not sure how you tell the story of working with — and being friends with — Bill, and say it in a few hundred words, and limit it to things appropriate for a newspaper like ours.

Bill was old school. As much as we all liked him, none of us would exactly volunteer to work next to him. When we'd travel as a team to events, he'd set up his remote office and loudly bang on his keyboard like it was a typewriter while his papers spread out… and out… and out.

He once got banned from a McDonald's franchise for doing just that.

But here's the part that's classic Bill: Before this happened, Bill learned that the guy had earned an advanced degree in polymer chemistry before he started investing in fast-food restaurants. So they talked a little shop. (Plus, it's very Bill to be working at a McDonald's and not a Starbucks.)

That's Bill, he could form a connection with anybody.

I was reminded of that the day after we posted his obit on our website. I got an email from Hozumi Yoda, the head of the Japan Plastics Machinery Association, who said he was shocked to hear about Bill's unexpected death and said he was a "truly great reporter of our industry."

He was my friend, I really value that, and his death is still pretty raw. Bill had been through a lot recently, losing his wife in early 2019 and taking care of family this last year.

Maybe others right now have a more poignant story, but I'll remember how great Bill was at making friends, me included.

 

Hollee Keller

Editorial research coordinator

I was always grateful for Bill's time and patience to teach me about plastic processing. No question was ever left unanswered. He would take the time to explain anything and everything. He made the extra effort to include new staff on his plant visits and volunteered whatever information he had, always. He never said no.

Catherine Kavanaugh

Former staff reporter

I met Bill Bregar seven years ago when I joined Plastics News. When I first had to write about business expansions, I'd call Bill to learn about the machine investments various processors were making. Bill's knowledge about platens, servo drives and automation were impressive.

Still, I was equally taken aback by all the directions our conversations would go. I'd barely have my answer when the topic would change to what's new with me. Maybe I just saw a movie or was still beaming about my kid's soccer goals. Our talks then would veer off to reviews of the zombie genre, chance sightings of LeBron James in Ohio, college days, politics and how stackable plastic rocking Adirondack chairs are really the perfect gift for everyone.

After 30 years in the industry, he knew a lot. He also took time to get to know me. He genuinely cared about his co-workers and colleagues in the world of plastics. Later on, when I'd see Bill's name on my cellphone, I knew I'd probably be talking for a while. I also knew I'd learn a lot and laugh some, too. Bill had a way of connecting with people and growing on them. To lose someone like him now, during a pandemic, when so many of us are feeling isolated, adds to the hurt.

Audrey LaForest

Former staff reporter

I was brushing my teeth when I got the email: "Hillenbrand Inc. to acquire Milacron Holdings Corp.," the subject line read. I forwarded the news release to Bill and Don, though I figured both already knew about it and were preparing to send a breaking news alert. It was Friday morning — deadline day for the weekly print issue.

"Bill, wow. This is big. Thought I was dreaming for a minute. How do we want to handle this?" I wrote in the email.

No word yet from Bill, but I was shocked to find out that Don hadn't heard about it either. I rushed to the newsroom. Don emailed, called and texted Bill — still no word. I immediately wrote something short and quick for the website, and the editors sent out a blast to Plastics News readers. Bill finally called, and the dynamic duo — Bill, the veteran machinery reporter; and me, the millennial machinery reporter — dug into the details. We divided up phone calls, hammered out copy and submitted our Page 1 story to the editors.

Bill called me post-breaking news rush and we laughed, thanking each other for the frenzied and thorough effort. We made the best team, and that day were reminded once again why we love being reporters: the adrenaline rush from the unexpected and the opportunity to work with the best coworkers on these once-in-a-lifetime stories.

It wasn't until later that afternoon that Bill told me what he was doing when the news broke that morning.

"I was watering the flowers," he said.