Bruce Locklin, legendary Record investigative editor, dies at 84

In the post-Watergate era of the late-1970s and 1980s, as American journalism took on an increasingly watchdog role, political and business figures across New Jersey harbored an almost universal fear — that the phone would ring and The Record’s chief investigative editor, Bruce Locklin, would be on the line.

From political schemers to rule-bending law enforcement officials and all manner of mobsters, car dealers and stock traders in between, Locklin ran up a string of award-winning investigative reports that brought national acclaim to The Record and set exacting standards that still live at the newspaper.

Locklin died Monday at his home in Cranbury, New Jersey. He was 84. His family said the cause of death was Alzheimer’s disease.

Tall and lanky, with a beard that he often stroked as he listened intently to even the most mundane of stories, Locklin became one of the nation’s first full-time investigative news editors in 1973.

It was a heady and exciting time for a new generation of hard-charging journalists.

In Washington, the Watergate scandal was breaking — largely through the tenacious work of The Washington Post’s Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. Elsewhere, news organizations in cities large and small quickly embraced the notion of journalists as active investigators. A journalism magazine featured investigative reporters as the new "heroes" of America.

The Boston Globe set up its “Spotlight” team. Long Island’s Newsday organized another full-time investigative squad under the leadership of Robert Greene. Nationally, journalists formed the Investigative Reporters and Editors group, which examined the murder of Don Bolles, who grew up in Teaneck, New Jersey, and had been working for the Arizona Republic when he was killed by a bomb planted under his car.

Amid this journalistic pressure cooker atmosphere, Locklin stepped into his role at The Record. The newspaper's then-owner, Malcolm Borg, after attending an American Press Institute seminar on investigative reporting at Columbia University, asked Locklin to develop an investigative unit that combined rigorous reporting that would be vetted by teams of lawyers before publication.

The system became something of a national gold standard for news organizations, with Locklin often asked to lecture on his style to other newsrooms.

“Bruce impressed me with his enthusiasm for The Record to create a position of investigative reporter, so I named him,” Borg said, remembering those early days of Locklin's investigative team. “He was relentless and a hound dog in the best sense.”

By the mid-1970s, Locklin established himself as an investigative force in New Jersey. His early targets ranged from a Democratic Party boss to a sleazy stockbroker. In later years, he turned his attention to crooked car dealers, nursing homes that routinely skirted health rules and the so-called “empire of fear” created by Passaic County Sheriff Edwin Engelhardt, who ruled the county’s politics for nearly three decades.

Locklin’s investigation of Engelhardt’s methods of exacting loyalty from political figures led to a criminal investigation and Engelhardt’s eventual resignation.

In The Record’s newsroom, Locklin was viewed as a careful editor and a wise mentor – a soft-spoken man who often huddled in his office for hours with young writers as they asked for advice on stories.

Daniel Sforza, now the executive editor of NorthJersey.com and The Record, started at the newspaper as a clerk and remembers how Locklin's investigations inspired many colleagues.

“Bruce was larger than life in The Record newsroom,” Sforza said. “When a story of his was about to publish, there was a palpable excitement in the room. From the editors to the reporters to the photographers and even the clerks, we all knew something special was about to happen. His contributions to The Record’s legacy of investigative reporting can’t be overstated.”

Inside the newsroom, Locklin also established an investigative process that was copied by other newsrooms. He kept extensive files, filled with tips. Interview notes were typed up and duplicated so all team members could read them. And as an investigation was ending, Locklin was not satisfied with a brief "no comment" from his targets. He insisted on scheduling lengthy interviews with those he wrote about in which he would read an extensive summary of what he had uncovered and then ask for their side of the story.

The Record’s longtime health care writer, Lindy Washburn, was especially impressed with Locklin’s attempts to hear some sort of explanation from even the most diabolical New Jersey rogues.

“One lesson I’ve always remembered from Bruce,” wrote Washburn in a Facebook posting, “is that the ‘bad guys’ — the targets of the investigation – always have their side of the story, too. It’s a story the reporter needs to hear and must be open to. He didn’t cast those interviews as confrontations. They were more like therapy sessions, where he elicited the motive and justification and rationale for whatever dastardly deeds the reporting had revealed.”

Locklin received numerous awards for his work. But he often said he was most proud of two fellowships he received – from the Alicia Patterson Foundation to study organized crime and from Harvard University’s Nieman Foundation.

"For all his awards — and there were boxes and boxes of them — he had surprisingly little ego,” said Locklin’s wife, Barbara Hoffman, a former editor at The Record and longtime arts editor of The New York Post.

“He was generous with his time and genuinely wanted only to see people treated fairly,” said Hoffman, who met her husband in The Record’s newsroom. “His compassion knew no bounds. When the rag top of his Suzuki jeep was stolen – he was on assignment in some rough area – all he said was, ‘Maybe whoever took it needed it to sleep under.’ That was my husband.”

Bruce Locklin was born in Boston in 1938, the day before St. Valentine’s Day. His father worked as a salesman for a box-making firm; his mother was a nurse.

As a teenager, the family moved to Long Island. After graduating from Lafayette College in Easton, Pennsylvania, with a degree in philosophy, Locklin turned to journalism.

He bounced through a series of reporting jobs with small newspapers in Rockland and Westchester counties before taking an editing job with The Record’s sister newspaper at the time, The Paterson Morning Call. Within a few years, he moved to The Record.

After retiring from The Record in 1997 at 59 years old, Locklin leaped into an entirely different career — as a champion of elder fitness. Certified as an aerobics instructor, Locklin taught workout routines at a variety of senior centers in northern New Jersey. He often began aerobics sessions by dancing the Lindy with elderly participants.

He also became an accomplished gourmet cook, specializing in authentic Chinese cooking and salads that often brimmed with more fruit than greens.

Besides Barbara Hoffman, his wife of 34 years, Locklin is survived by the couple’s son, Sam. Locklin also has three children — Garth, Douglas and Liane — from a previous marriage.

Funeral arrangements are private. But Hoffman said she is planning a memorial service for her husband, probably in mid-November. Instead of flowers, the family welcomes donations to the Visiting Nurse Association Health Group Hospice, c/o Foundation Office, 23 Main St., Suite D1 Holmdel, NJ 07733.

Hoffman said that even though Locklin struggled with the devastating effects of Alzheimer’s disease, he still remembered to tell his wife each day that he loved her.

Mike Kelly is an award-winning columnist for NorthJersey.com as well as the author of three critically acclaimed non-fiction books and a podcast and documentary film producer. To get unlimited access to his insightful thoughts on how we live life in New Jersey, please subscribe or activate your digital account today.

Email: kellym@northjersey.com

This article originally appeared on NorthJersey.com: Bruce Locklin, legendary Record investigative editor, dies