OUR ‘SLOT’ IS A HEADLINER
ON SEVERAL STAGES
By Steve Warren
Deseret News staff writer
© 2000 Deseret News Publishing Co.
Some people never find a niche in life that suits them.
W. Lee Hunt doesn't have that problem. In 1983, he found his niche -
actually, it's called a slot – as chief copy editor at the Deseret News.
The "slot" is a person who sits in the vertex of a U-shaped arrangement of
computer workstations occupied by up to seven copy editors. After
individual copy editors edit a story and write a headline, the slot either
OKs the story and sends it along for final preprint positioning on a page or returns it
to the copy editor with suggested changes. All the while, he keeps an eye
on page deadlines.
It's no place for shrinking violets, and it suits Hunt fine. "I enjoy being
in the middle of all the news, the hot, breaking stuff."
When he came to the Deseret News fresh out of BYU in 1974, Hunt didn't
have a clue that he'd wind up within a few months on the copy desk.
"I thought of myself as a writer or reporter. I had no experience at all in
copy editing. It was a real challenge," he recalls.
His first months as a copy editor were so inauspicious that he saw the
handwriting on the wall (but not the misspellings and grammatical problems
in that handwriting) and promptly enrolled in basic English classes through
community education.
One headline that got him in hot water with the managing editor at the time
was: "Vietnam hoard flees Cong." It's a mistake he's had a "horde" time
forgetting.
Although Hunt no longer finds the nuances of copy editing a mystery, his
life isn't short on mystery - not by a long shot.
That's because he's the founder and proprietor of Hunt Mystery & Company,
which produces dinner-theater programs wherein actors stage a murder
mystery and the audience tries to solve it by questioning the performers, or
"suspects."
Hunt Mystery & Company began in 1991. Early that year, Hunt, his wife Nancy
and children Heather, Lena, Jason, Jared and Nathan discussed ways to earn
money for a trip to California. Before long, the children were selling
Valentine's candy, cookies, pizza and pies.
At that time, Hunt had already written three murder mysteries but had
staged them only on family occasions and at parties. Spurred on both by the
importunings of friends to go public and by the desire to fund the
California trip, Hunt hired actors and staged a production at a local resort - and they've
been doing them ever since.
In 1994, the company put on 49 shows. [In 2001, the company stage close to 100 shows.]
[Hunt Mystery stages public shows about twice a month at various locations.] … Other bookings include conventions and private and employee parties.
Hunt leaves the acting to professionals (each presentation features six to
eight acting roles), but he continues to write most of the scripts and
lines up shows. Family members help by setting up the programs and in
handling lighting and sound.
When he's not on the job as copy chief or involved in a dinner theater,
Hunt finds time to change the landscape of West Jordan.
[Hunt was] …chairman of the West Jordan Urban Forest Committee and spearheaded
efforts that have resulted in the planting of hundreds of trees around the
city…..His appointment as chairman stemmed from his part in organizing tree
plantings at a neighborhood park. "The city saw my interest in trees and
the mayor came calling."
 |
Linda Bisson, Pam Olsen, W. Lee Hunt, Marilyn
Karras and Susan Hermance pose with BYU's
Ty Detmer's Heisman Trophy at work. |
Even though Hunt enjoys adding green to the West Jordan landscape, he
points out that his real color is "true-blue BYU." Whenever the Cougars
play, he tries to be near a TV -- or at the game, when possible. He does not,
however, belong to the fanatic - some would say frothing, lunatic - fringe
in the BYU-University of Utah rivalry that hopes for its team to win every
game and for its chief rival always to lose. "I cheer for Utah whenever
they're not playing BYU," he said.
A word of warning to first-time visitors at the Hunt home. Near the front
 |
30-year service
award from
Deseret News. |
door, a plaque reads: The Hunt's. Alert souls will notice that the
apostrophe in Hunt's is in the wrong place. But don't be tempted to say,
"Aha, someone who claims to know grammar but who puts apostrophes in the wrong place doesn't have a leg to stand on."
First, Hunt always has a leg to stand on, sometimes two. (He has a
prosthetic limb.) And second, "That (the plaque) was a gift," he emphasizes.
Spoken like a true copy editor.
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