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Gibbons was whisked a dozen blocks across town to a farewell party in the newsroom for himself and 74 colleagues who took the paper's recent buyout offer.
Police blocked intersections and a spotlight, from a police or TV helicopter, shone on the big, black Crown Vic known as Car One. The city's top cop, Police Commissioner Sylvester Johnson, was behind the wheel. Motorcycles heavy with Philadelphia highway patrolmen surrounded the car and led it to The Inquirer at Broad and Callowhill.
A few minutes later, Gibbons entered the newsroom, dapper as ever in a grey pinstripe suit and bright purple tie. About a dozen helmeted highway patrolmen, dressed in black leather jackets, boots and britches marched in behind him.
An electric current went through the crowd, as the buzz arose that Gibbons, the reporter who had saved everyone's bacon over the years by getting information on breaking police stories, had arrived. It was a sustained greeting: Clapping, shrill whistles and chants of "Tom-mee! Tom-mee!"
 Photo courtesy of Donald D. Groff
Tommy Gibbons is escorted into the newsroom of The Philadelphia Inquirer on his final day by police officers. |
"It was the Inquirer of old, all our insanity tricks," Gibbons said.
Gibbons said he had been busy covering "the usual homicides" on his final day and was kept in the dark about plans to honor him.
Under the ruse that he was to go to the commissioner's suite of offices at 5 p.m. to shake his hand goodbye, a public affairs officer told Gibbons it was time to head upstairs. Though Gibbons didn't say anything, he was worried about the timing -- missing the Inquirer party -- and leaving the press room door unlocked and his computer logged on.
He was led to a conference room and told to wait. The doors opened to shouts of "Surprise!" Crammed inside were about 100 people -- the city's TV and radio reporters and police officers.
Gibbons said the police commissioner presided over a brief ceremony, telling the group that Gibbons was "a fine reporter."
Johnson told the crowd that sometimes he was unhappy with the Gibbons' stories, but they were always "right on the money."
"That meant a lot to me, that my stories were on the money," Gibbons said.
In more than two decades at the paper, Gibbons had escorted eight police commissioners and two acting commissioners out of the police headquarters on their last days, gathering detail for his stories on their exits.
This time, Commissioner Johnson led him to the elevator and they descended to the rear door of the police station. Outside, Gibbons said he could see a large crowd of people and the glare of red and blue police lights.
Two ranks of 20 highway patrolmen on a side were standing at attention with arms raised in salute. Gibbons walked down the tunnel they had created, and by instinct, raised his own hand in a return salute.
Gibbons was once a member of the highway patrol, but left after he was shot in the line of duty. He became a reporter for The Philadelphia Bulletin and, not long before the Bulletin closed, was hired on staff at The Inquirer.
An unassuming, decent guy, Gibbons was stunned by being in the spotlight.
"I'm the type of reporter who just wants to report the news. I was in awe. It was like an out-of-body experience. This was not my usual style."
As he looked around the crowd, he spotted his wife, Carol, his daughter and son-in-law and his granddaughter in the crowd.
Then the commissioner's car pulled up to the curb. Johnson got into the driver's side and invited Tommy to get into the passenger seat.
"Where are we headed?" Gibbons said he asked.
"We're taking you to The Inquirer," Gibbons said Johnson replied.
"I'm flabbergasted," Gibbons said. "It's just him and me in the car."
Forty-five second later they were at the paper. "It was the quickest trip I ever made," he said.
Waiting for him outside the building were Carl Lavin, a deputy managing editor, and a group of Inquirer staffers.
Gibbons thought the highway patrol would leave at this point, but they insisted on waiting outside. They said they knew he would need to ride back to his car at the police station.
"Being ever the reporter, I'm thinking that maybe these guys should be out on the street," Gibbons said.
Then, someone invited the cops to come inside.
The highway patrol stayed with Gibbons while he shook hands with colleagues, and once again insisted on taking him back to the Roundhouse and then to his home in the Somerton neighborhood of Philadelphia.
"They lined up their motorcycles outside my house. Then word came over their radios that an officer had been shot in North Philadelphia. They started up the bikes and roared out of my block. Lord only knows what the neighbors thought."
By Saturday, he was talking about his future.
First, he will take some time to regroup, and perhaps explore a career as an investigator. "I don't know where my life is going, but I do want to work."
As for his grand exit, Gibbons said: "I'm the kind of guy who likes to stay below the radar screen, but it was sweet."
Lil Swanson worked with Tommy Gibbons at The Philadelphia Inquirer from 1986 until 2004, and was one of the many alumns who attended his farewell party in the paper's newsroom. She is now director of APME/NewsTrain.
