The St. Louis American newspaper would not be where it is today without the loyal, disciplined work of one unheralded employee – Paul Reiter, circulation manager. For 22 years, he ensured every neighborhood in the St. Louis area received copies of The American on time. And he showered many in the community with his unending, selfless giving spirit.
On May 9, 2011, Paul was shot and killed in the backyard of his home, on the 5000 block of Idaho Avenue in Dutchtown. He was 58.
That morning at about 10 a.m., the next-door neighbor reported an attempted burglary to the police. Investigators believe there is a strong possibility that Paul may have interrupted the suspects as they attempted to burglarize the home.
Police found him lying face-down, dead, in his yard at about 7:30 p.m. That morning, one neighbor heard gunshots and saw two people running from the scene, both in their teens or early 20s, said St. Louis Metropolitan Police Chief Dan Isom.
Police have arrested Rico R. Paul, an 18-year-old male, and prosecutors charged him with murder, armed criminal action and attemped burglary. According to court records, Rico Paul had been released on his own recognizance in April after being convicted of stealing. At that time he was free on a suspended imposition of sentence for a 2010 conviction for robbery and assault. He had missed a court hearing on May 3, and there was a warrant for his arrest on the day he allegedly murdered Paul Reiter.
A judge ordered the accused to be held without bond. Police also are looking for a second possible suspect.
“We can never repay what he did for us,” Donald M. Suggs, publisher of The American, said of Paul Reiter.
“We mourn his senseless murder because he was a very special person and an absolutely essential part of us and what we aspire to do. I spoke with Paul as a peer, as someone whose view of situations I highly value. He believed as we do that the ultimate measure of a society is its sense of social justice.”
An intentional life
Paul lived an intentional lifestyle. He believed everything he did was part of his spiritual practice – even driving all day in brutal traffic. Every morning, Paul meditated on his back porch, reading passages about focusing one’s life on love.
On Monday nights, he would gather with a meditation group. On Tuesdays, he attended the Enlightenment Weekly Meetup at the Living Insights Center, 6361 Clayton Rd., to discuss the paths of enlightenment, “with an emphasis on honoring all paths and sharing openly and lovingly.” He was one of the group’s longest-attending members.
He saw beauty in all things. On the back of the company’s white delivery van, he posted a sign with red letters that said, “Art is Everywhere,” along with a thumbs-up sign. Paul spent most of his spare time and money at art exhibitions and supporting local artists. The walls both at home and in his office were covered with his art collection, which included work by Cindy Royal, Craig Downs and Carmelita Nunez-Shown.
For years, he wore his hair in a Mohawk in protest of the treatment of Native Americans, remembered Kenya Vaughn, a colleague at The American.
“He was a beautiful walking irony,” Vaughn said. “He was one of the most honest, straight-no-chaser people I have ever known – maybe the most honest. And he would do absolutely anything for you that he was able to do. He had the purest intentions of anyone I have ever known.”
Paul had one son, Christopher Paul Reiter, a 20-year-old business student at Saint Louis University. Christopher described his father as a giving person who never expected anything in return.
Christopher recalled his father helping one neighborhood family with about seven African-American children.
“It was hard for them to catch the bus, so he would take them to school and bring them home every day for about five years,” Christopher said.
At one point, the family began to have problems, so Paul sheltered four of them for a time.
“He never asked for anything in return,” Christopher said. “He was one of a kind.”
Christopher said one of Paul’s favorite books was To Kill a Mockingbird. In the book, the narrator’s father, Atticus Finch, liked to be called by his first name, and even his children did so.
“He never liked anyone to call him ‘Mr. Reiter,’” Christopher said.
Vaughn once said Paul was “ethnically ambiguous,” remembered Chris King, managing editor of The American.
“It’s not his coloration – Paul was very pale – or his mannerisms – he acted like a goofy, artsy, politically liberal white guy,” King said. “It was his sensibility, his consciousness. Paul was just about as close to color-blind or oblivious to race as you could be in this culture.”
For example, King said the mother of Paul’s child is African-American, so his son is “black” or “mixed race.” And working in a majority-black environment as a white person, one would think he’d make a point of telling people that.
“But it had to come up on its own for Paul to tell you,” King said. “It just didn’t seem to register on him as important facts.”
Paul did no reporting or writing for the paper, but he was one of the most politically conscious people at The American. “He read widely and deeply and cared very, very deeply about the world and the city,” King said.
American first
Paul managed the delivery routes for about 15 delivery drivers. Jim Foley, a driver for The American, knew Paul for about 15 years.
“He was always quick to respond, no excuses,” Foley said. “He put The American first, even if it delayed what he was doing by half an hour or even two hours.”
As a friend, Foley said some of the best advice he ever received about personal matters came from Paul.
“Paul was a true original,” said Dina M. Suggs, vice president of the St. Louis American Foundation. “Honest, caring, unpretentious, conscientious, quirky, curious, truth seeking, and dedicated to his son, family, The St. Louis American, its staff, freelancers, stringers and friends. There will never be another Paul Reiter, and he will always be sorely missed.”
Child at heart
Paul had a strong relationship with his family, as one of eight siblings. He loved playing with his nieces and nephews at frequent family gatherings.
“You can put him down for the director of mayhem and wildness,” said Marty Wofford, his sister. “Paul is a child at heart.”
At Halloween, the children would go on hayrides at the family’s compound, which has a lake and prairie-grass fields. Paul would hide behind bushes to scare the kids and they loved it, she said.
“He was the best uncle and dad,” she said. “Chris was the light of his life. He would do anything for Chris. He would do anything parents were required to do to chip in.”
Paul often spoke about the delicious meals his sisters would send him home with, making sure to cook extra for him. One of his sisters is a Carmelite nun in a local convent, and he would visit her once a month with the other members of the family.
While serving in the U.S. Navy, Paul traveled to Japan and sometimes sent home packages to his family. On Mother’s Day this year, Wofford said, he bought his mother, Agnes Veronica Reiter, a big bouquet of flowers, as he did for every occasion. He didn’t have much money, but “he knew what was important.”
In looking through his spiritual books, the family found one highlighted sentence in the book Why Life’s Tests are Thrust upon Us.
“It says, ‘We must utilize this life in order to realize the life beyond this one,’” Wofford said. “That’s what he did – he lived life to the fullest.”
In the middle of Paul’s backyard, he put up a bird feeder and birdbath. In the morning, as part of his daily routine, he’d drink his two cups of coffee and watch the birds bathe and sing.
“When I first heard Paul died in his backyard alone, it gave me some comfort to know that the birds he cared for were there singing to him,” said Rebecca S. Rivas, reporter for The American. “He told me he always looked out for his neighbors. He was just the kind of man to put himself in danger to save another’s life.”
Inextricably bound
When Paul came to The American in 1989, the paper’s circulation was 22,000. Today it is 70,000.
“The upward trajectory of The St. Louis American is inextricably bound to the invaluable contribution of Paul Reiter,” Donald M. Suggs said.
“Paul was here during absolutely the toughest days of trying to build something of value. He was central to the newspaper’s operation and its mission. In every sense of the word he was part of The American’s family – not just team, but family.”
He is survived by his mother, Agnes Veronica Reiter, his son Christopher, and his siblings Sister Paula Marie, Robert Reiter, Aggie Baldetti (John), Ed Reiter (Linda), Marty Wofford (Dennie), Paul Gerard, Joyce Fraser (Randy), and Mark Reiter (wife Ramona died of cancer), and many, many nieces and nephews who adored him. His father Edward Reiter is deceased.
Memorial Celebration Saturday
A Memorial Celebration for the late Paul Reiter will be held 10 a.m. Saturday, May 14 at the Carmelite Monastery, 9150 Clayton Rd.
Reiter’s sister, Marty Wofford, said she knew her modest brother would not want a public memorial service, “but we need it.”
Wofford also asked that people who come to the public memorial celebration bring a card on which they have written a memory of Paul.
“We especially want Christopher to have these memories of his father,” she said.
