I wonder how many metropolitan newspaper publishers walk through their newsrooms seeking out writers to compliment their work, or send them handwritten notes about a story they particularly liked, or greet by name new hires whom they've barely met.

How many stand in line at the company lunch counter along with the lowest-paid workers, invite employees to sit with them in a little booth, munching grilled cheese sandwiches, musing about the future of the company, asking about their work and families?

As publisher of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Bill Block Sr. did all these things on a regular basis. Of course he also dined at the Duquesne Club with the movers and shakers his newspaper covered. But any executive can do that. Not everyone, however, can command respect and admiration from the people in the trenches, let alone the ones sitting across the bargaining table during contract negotiations.

Community leaders of similar stature can speak to Bill Block's influence on the city. But if you really want to know about a man's character, ask the people who work for him.

I did that yesterday, in honor of the man who led this newspaper for 60 years, and who died Monday at age 89. Colleagues remembered the publisher who tracked them down to say how much he enjoyed their stories, who knew their names within a day of their hiring and asked how they were getting along. To a one, they were floored by the attention and encouraged by the compliments.

"His handwriting was old-school elegant, as he was," said Diana Nelson Jones, who got one such note. "He was the only publisher I have ever worked for who not only acknowledged my existence but smiled and said hello every time he saw me."

Anyone who thought Block's self-effacing nature made him a pushover was mistaken, said Bill Moushey, who's had his share of legal scrapes over investigations that would have caused any publisher to wince.

"My stories sometimes cost him big bucks in legal bills," Moushey said. "But when the heat was on, I could not think of a publisher who stood behind his reporter more than Mr. Block."

Block also took a jaundiced view of grandstanding politicians, said Barry Paris, who relayed a story Block told him about Judge Michael Musmanno, a respected jurist at the Nuremberg trials who later became a famous red-baiter. Block and the PG found Musmanno's anti-communist crusades a bit self-serving, and one day Musmanno visited the publisher to complain.

"He was carrying this folder stuffed with letters to show how much the public supported him," Paris said. "Bill said he reached over and took the file -- and all the envelopes were empty. Musmanno was flabbergasted and that was the end of the interview. That's the kind of gentle but gutsy kind of guy he was."

Not to mention humane, according to copy editor Dan Rick, whose wife, a native of Thailand, was gravely ill with cancer in 1986.

"She was dying, and she wanted to go back to Thailand to see her family." Rick said. "Mr. Block heard about my predicament from someone else, and he gave me the money to make the trip -- about $5,000 for the four of us [including two children]. I assumed it was a loan but when I went to him after we returned to make arrangements for repaying it, he told me that wouldn't be necessary. I have never known a kinder, more generous man."

Many staffers wrote to say they often saw Block driving an everyday kind of car, picking up his own dry cleaning or wrestling suitcases from a driver who'd brought him from the airport, insisting on carrying them himself.

"We always said he had the gentle manner of Robert Young on 'Father Knows Best' and the charm of Cary Grant," said Marylynne Pitz.

Ann Belser recalled sharing a physical therapist with the boss in 1998. "It was telling that after weeks of working with Mr. Block, she had no idea who he was or how important he was. To her, he was just a really nice patient."

When the Post-Gazette instituted a new card-swipe system as a security measure, longtime employees kept insisting that they'd worked here forever and shouldn't need any ID.

"Then one day I saw Mr. Block -- whose picture is on a plaque in the lobby -- stop, pull out his card and wait for the beep," said Sharon Eberson. "I never complained again."

When fashion editor LaMont Jones was ordained a deacon at Macedonia Baptist Church in the Hill District, Bill Block showed up for the ceremony.

Newspaper Guild President Mike Bucsko wrote that while covering a City Council meeting just last month, he discovered Block sitting in the room. It was the day council passed the proclamation for Bill Block Sr. Day.

"He slowly ambled up to the podium and joked that he only got the recognition because he lived so long," Buscko said. "He sat down for the rest of the proclamations and then walked out. Nobody from the PG but me was there because it was not in his nature to let anyone know. I went out in the hall and we talked about the paper. Not a word about Bill Block Sr. Day. That says everything there is to say about the guy."

Staffers appreciated his good humor. Johnna Pro was smoking in the parking lot when the publisher came out the door. She allowed as how he'd caught her shirking her duties. "Well," he replied, "it's 20 after four so you've caught me sneaking out early. If you don't tell, I won't."

When Tony Norman became a newly minted columnist, he was insecure about his work until Block stopped him in the hall to congratulate him for sending the boss to the dictionary and teaching him something new.

I got my share of compliments, but apparently am the only one he ever chided. It was early in my column-writing career, and some outrage had set me off. I let loose a scorching missive, only to find the publisher at my desk the next day with the paper in his hand.

"When you're this angry, it's better to put it in a drawer for a day," he said. I wanted to protest that you can't do that on deadline -- as if a lifelong newspaper man had to be instructed on such a thing -- but managed to keep quiet. He smiled, patted my shoulder and went on his way.

I've tried to follow that advice ever since, with varying degrees of success, but on a day like this it's easy. I'm not angry, just profoundly grateful to have worked with one of the last of the great newspaper lions, saddened by his loss, and confident his legacy lives on in his city and his newspaper.