Duke and Mark
Final Thoughts on Friendship
I’ve learned the passage of time is the best remedy for everything. Feeling terrible? After a few hours, days or maybe weeks, the sensation eventually becomes less jagged until you begin to breathe again. That’s why I’m glad it’s been a month since Mike “Duke” Venturino and Mark Hampton passed away.
As nearly everyone knows, we lost these two guiding lights two weeks apart in June 2024. Duke and Mark have now become legends, a term implying both greatness and an untouchable quality. Since both are gone, the appellation is justified even though both guys would instinctively shy away from such talk. Regardless, I can’t let their passing inevitably fade into the mists of history without offering a few final thoughts.
Correspondence School
The funny thing is I consider myself friends to both though I only met one briefly and never laid eyes on the other. Such is the world today. I guess in an old-school sense, we were the deepest and fastest of pen pals.
However, the editor-writer relationship — at least if done properly — is nearly as intimate as between brothers or those who have faced danger together. As writing is such a highly personal endeavor, it cuts to the quick of those creating it so editors invariably end up dealing with the gooey insides of a person, beyond the words on paper or computer screen. All the dangling participles and conjoined conjunctions aside, the role of the editor ranges from being boss to sometimes serving as coach, mentor, advisor, gossipy neighbor, consultant, troubleshooter, P.R. person, confessor, bartender and (fortunately) almost always — friend.
In the modern publishing world, this whole dynamic is increasingly a “remote” operation. The internet has made it easier for folks to commit journalism wherever they happen to live, places like the mythical “Squirrel Fart, Arkansas” Roy Huntington frequently mentions. For instance, upon accepting the role of editor of GUNS, I didn’t have to move to California and I’m so thankful for it.
Thus, I’ve met only a handful of our writers face-to-face. Yet, I know about their spouses, their dogs and much of their “business.” This is how I got to know Mark and Mike.
The Duke
Mike “Duke” Venturino has received plenty of kudos since passing and we did an entire podcast episode (GUNS Magazine Podcast Episode #238, while Mark Hampton is the subject of episode#239) about him. I don’t want to rehash all the things we said about Duke but I did want to share how it ended.
Mike had experienced some medical challenges over the last several months. A couple of times he begged forgiveness for pushing a deadline or two but never by a significant margin, so I never gave it much thought. This is why I knew one of our final email exchanges was headed off in a different direction when he mentioned he probably couldn’t write a new column because he was in the hospital. I gave him the usual “no worries, send it when you can.” He then dropped a bombshell.
Mike explained he was writing from the hospital but would be heading home in a day or two for hospice care. He said “I’ve fought it all along but my heart is just shot. Take care, mi amigos.” Wow. “Stunned” is far too mild of a verb.
I offered some weak-tea sympathy in return and Mike thanked me. He brushed off the sympathy but expressed concern for his wife Yvonne. I saved this correspondence thinking it was the final act of our run together.
Things got a bit convoluted after that. His doctors tried a last-ditch medicine and it appeared to work, offering Mike a bit more time, maybe even weeks.
Shortly thereafter he died. It reinforced my belief in the old saying “If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.” Indeed.
Mark Hampton
Still reeling from Duke’s death, the collective here at Publishers’ Development Corporation had work to do. Aside from our personal feelings, we had to deal with the business aspects of Mike’s death because while the world ebbs and flows, publishing deadlines never sleep.
It was obvious we couldn’t fill his spot because there is only one Montana Musings. To have someone take over the spot would be impossible so we had to discuss how to best fill the literal hole on our pages. There was also the matter of how we should publicly remember Mike without getting sappy, maudlin or weepy. During that week I often found myself saying “This is awful. I sure hope it doesn’t happen again anytime soon.”
Shortly thereafter, we got the news about Mark Hampton.
I’m not so egocentric to believe fate specifically seeks me out for a slap to the face whenever I deserve it. However, I couldn’t help feeling a small pang of culpability.
It was a Sunday morning when I got a text message about Mark possibly dying in Africa. We started burning up phone lines until Roy Huntington went directly to the source and called Mark’s wife, Karen. She confirmed the worse.
Mark was on day two of safari and “apparently” dropped dead from natural causes. I use quotes because I’m still not sure of the details as the civil authorities in the African hinterlands don’t conduct death investigations like they do in L.A., or even Squirrel Fart, Arkansas. At last word, a heart attack felled Mark.
My final communication with Mark was regarding a story assignment. He had just received a new gun and said he would finish the review “as soon as I get back from Tanzania.” That’s Mark — treating a trip to Africa to shoot exotic game with a handgun like he was making an overnighter to St. Louis.
Unlike our sister publication American Handgunner, Mark wasn’t a monthly contributor to GUNS but I tried to use his stories whenever possible. I know our audience isn’t “into” handgun hunting as much as other topics but I always found Mark’s adventures fascinating and a great example of what can be accomplished with a little planning and a lot of grit. For instance, how many of us have suddenly faced a gorilla a few feet away as we’re sitting under a tree with a pygmy? Mark did in the last story I published.
I once met Mark at the SHOT Show and he was everything I imagined — a down-home school teacher from Missouri who happened to hunt remarkable creatures in places where you need permission from a warlord for safe passage. I’ve always said if he had a much bigger ego or a good manager, he’d have a major-network television show and millions of dollars in endorsements. As it were, he was a just an ordinary midwestern guy who liked to hunt in the craziest of places while slinging words to help pay the bills.
In The End
Losing two members of our close-knit writer pool within a short period of time naturally caused a lot of introspection and contemplation for me. The business side of things was relatively easy to unpack compared to the larger questions of how to reconcile the relationship of knowing someone fairly well despite having virtually no direct contact.
Were Mike and Mark actually my friends? I’m sure both guys would give me unfettered “refrigerator privileges,” making a strong case for friendship though I’ll never have the opportunity to test the theory. Or were we just engaged in a boss/employee dynamic which only seemed deeper because of our shared love of guns and shooting. Or is the truth somewhere in the middle?
It really doesn’t matter because time — and deadlines — march on. I’ll take time to remember both exceptional men while forging ahead with my own new stories, new friendships and the future. After all, a good life should be about always looking ahead while still remembering the best of yesterday.
I’m glad to have been a small part of the charmed lives of both these guys.
