By JOHN ANDERSON
Journalism and media has changed a lot since Shane Colligan passed away in 2003.
But one thing has not changed: No matter what platform you use, you have to have a background in journalism. And arguably, the best school for that in the nation is St. Bonaventure University.
No matter your major, the No. 1 thing graduates talk about is the connections with other graduates and the ability to use those professional connections to start a career or improve your current landscape.
But No. 2 with a bullet is the friendships you make for life at a small university. And over the years, those friendships were built in the halls of the school and in make-shift longues for students thanks to Shane Colligan of Wellsville. Students gravitated to him in those lounges and kept talking and meeting others long after Shane went to class.
Shane literally died for the college.
Before I get into his story, I would be chastised by his former classmates and professors if I buried the lede here. Without corporate donations or a major campaign, a bunch of over-worked, underpaid journalists have raised close to $50,000 to have the Shane T. Colligan Memorial Lounge built in his honor in the new expansion wing of the Jandoli School of Communication.
Click here to be the person who puts this fundraiser over the top. Family and friends of Shane are that close. Those who have been inspired by hearing his story the last few weeks have donated to get it that close. And if it goes over? Even better. That money will go toward anything from a better facility to scholarships or even flaming cabbage parties.
Shane started writing for me at the Wellsville Daily Reporter while in college and we had a desk waiting for him after graduation. He was born with a bad heart. He had his first transplant in 1994. A second in 1999. He knew this one was giving out his last semester in 2003, but he wanted to live and die his way, with his family and friends and at his college. He accomplished both.
Over the years as I hired St. Bonaventure graduates, they told me stories and famous writing quotes from Dr. Denny WIlkins. I learned a lot from him without meeting him. And after meeting him, he is the only person I know who can give you life lessons he knows you can use in just a few sentences. Words matter. It’s why the length of his story or whatever this is by the end, would drive him up a wall.
Dr. Wilkins just retired from St. Bonaventure, but before he did, he wrote posts about Shane all over social media.
Part of one really hit home:
“Shane did not appear in my class the day before he died. When news reached us that he was in the hospital, class ended as many left, hoping to visit him.
Yet, later, when I returned to my office, Shane was sitting in a hallway chair. “Why are you here?” I asked him.
“I wanted to find out what I missed in class,” he said.
“You’ve missed class before but never came to find out what you missed,” I chided him.
He spent 45 minutes in my office, just talking with me. Later, I learned, he went to The BV and spent a few minutes quietly talking with every member of the staff. Afterward, he took his roommates and girlfriend out to dinner.
The next morning, he was gone. I still cannot think of him without tearing up. Shane was a remarkable human being, and we are all the lesser for his absence.”
Amazing words from an amazing man.
Honoring Shane was the brainchild of Leah Noonan, Johanna “Jo” Biviano, Jason Dusset, Mike Lindsley and so many others. His parents, Tim and Suzanne Colligan and his sister, Erin, have shared the link constantly.
Leah and Mike said the same thing, “This Journalism lounge in memory of Shane Colligan … It’s now or never, we have to do this”
Leah Noonan was diagnosed with cancer a year after Shane passed away. She beat that and she knew she could beat an impossible dream to raise $50,000 for Shane. The words “can’t, no, unlikely” kept coming up.
During the 75th anniversary of the journalism school, she walked around and realized something had to be named for Shane.
“Fundraising is daunting. I called some friends of Shane and said, ‘I know you have all talked about this, but we have to do this.’ Everyone has talked about it. Fundraising is very intimidating, but you have to dive in. You have to align everyone who is interested in it in a powerful way.”
She also realized “Dr. Wilkins is the only one left who remembers Shane, and he is leaving.”
However, it’s St. Bonaventure. Aaron Chimbel is the Dean of the Jandoli School of Communication. Even though Chimbel started at St. Bonaventure in 2018, he knew of the past, including a student who died in 2003.
“Dean Chimbel said to me, ‘I didn’t know that much about Shane, but I talked to Denny when it came up.’ And that’s what we want, people to know about him and the passion he put toward journalism. He meant that much,” Leah said. “At a time when people are questioning journalism as a profession, why not now? Remember him in a meaningful way.”
With a pep talk and blessing from Chimbel, they went to work. Money came in slow, but Shane’s story kept getting shared. Jason Dusset put together this piece for WGRZ-TV.
Mike Lindsley, another media giant, knows his words, written or spoken, have an impact.
Mike wrote, “This guy was one of the greatest people I know. I get emotional thinking about him. I’ll never forget the call … Shane was a news guy, I was a sports guy, he would run around and had more energy than anyone I knew. I was watching the NCAA tournament and my roomate Chuck called me and asked, ‘Do you have a minute?’ I went out in the hallway and he told me Shane had died. I cried my eyes out. I cannot even imagine the success he would’ve had as a journalist as well as a writer, as a broadcaster, or both.
“If there was one person who needed to live a long time and give more, it was Shane Colligan. He was a tremendous human being and we have to honor his legacy. I can’t believe it’s been 21 years or more … we have to get the Shane Colligan Memorial Lounge done,” Lindsley concluded.
Leah said, “We all had time with Shane, we all had friends who were a part of this fundraising team. I had the least amount of time with him. But when Shane first burst into the radio or broadcast newsroom, he was impossible not to recognize. His enthusiasm, his confidence — his light — the joy he brought into every room.”
There’s also something to be said about faith and fate. This almost didn’t happen.
“I contacted advancement because everything has a price tag when it comes to naming. Shane just loved to connect with people, and that’s something he was able to do with others with something as simple as a longue,” Noonan said. “I asked if there was a lounge available and they said ‘sorry, there’s someone else interested in naming the student longue.’ But minutes later, that person called and said it wasn’t what they wanted to fund. The goal was $50,000. I know it’s daunting, but I felt like a coach with the rest of our team. We can do this. We all are in this. And in this for the same reason, to honor Shane.”
Rebecca Campana makes an impact as well. She works with teens. She brings them from the brink of depression to feeling great about themselves. And she uses Shane as an example.
“Each year, I get to introduce Shane to my teen group, his terrible car “Big Shi**y,” the cartoons he scribbled in the margins of USA Today at a gas station when we got stranded in rural Pennsylvania, the flaming cabbage to celebrate his heart transplant anniversary, and his kindness.”
I wrote a column about Shane when he passed away. I was honored when it won a state award from the Associated Press. I went to Albany for that. But that trip paled in comparison to a trip to Allegany. My palms were sweaty. After decades of hearing about this man, I walked down a hall and stepped one foot into a dark office occupied by Dr. Denny Wilkins. Like the greats I worked with in the past: Pat Vecchio, Tom Donahue, Chuck Pollock, John and Beth Ebert, Tom Missel, Joe Marren, Geroge Nianiatus … they all had something in common. They would shake their heads in disgust with some of the things I wrote!
I feared walking in this office. And as soon as I introduced myself, he turned his back on me. Now I was nervous. But when he spun back around, he had a framed copy of the column I wrote about Shane. That was a career-defining achievement.
That column I wrote back in 2003 is still out there, showing the impact Shane had on us. Here is that column, followed by an incredible message from Nicole Schuman-Nibley and hilarious memories from Jo Biviano.
We all learned from Shane Colligan
A column by John Anderson, 2003, Wellsville Daily Reporter
Unfortunately in this business, we learn to deal with surprises including tragedy and death.
Some people think we’re heartless, but we’re self-trained to accept it and react as reporters.
However, I was caught off guard Friday morning when I was told Shane Colligan had died. We hear rumors all the time in this newsroom. But somehow, I knew this might be true.
I was five minutes from deadline Friday when I was told and everything suddenly went numb. I went through the motions getting the paper to press while I heard phone calls being made to confirm this.
Usually, I dive right into a story. This time, I had to go for a walk and reflect. Shane was just 23 when he died Friday. Usually, I’d be questioning God for taking a life so quickly. But this time I wasn’t.
Instead, I was marveling at all this kid accomplished in his short life.
Selfishly, I was upset because the day after Shane graduated from St. Bonaventure, he was going to be an integral part of this newsroom. He was excited about it and was ready to start the next phase of his life. Sure he could have lived at home, but he already negotiated a deal with his grandfather, Jack Colligan, for an apartment.
Shane was the editor-in-chief at The Bona Venture, the St. Bonaventure University student newspaper. During the basketball season, I met several students who worked with him. They spoke of him with such high regard, as if they were in awe of his abilities not only to write, but lead their newspaper.
I read his stories. This was not typical college writing. Couple that with what his classmates said about him, I never had to ask him for a resume. He was hired by association.
Shane had troubles with his heart from the day he was born. When he was trying to get that first heart transplant in 1994, he became a local celebrity. Shane was in the newspapers, on the radio and on television. And when he needed a second heart in 1999, he was the center of attention again.
It’s no wonder he started working in the media.
He has his own show on local radio during the weekends and also worked radio at college. Most of you remember Shane as an outgoing, funny kid who never let setbacks in life affect him. You knew him — and rightfully so — as a kid who had so much done for him that he felt he had to give back to his community and to help other children and adults in Western New York.
I knew Shane from his ordeal, but fortunately, I met him as a writer.
During this past Christmas break, he gave me a list of some story ideas and went to work on some features. I was surprised at his work.
But not as surprised as I was when the basketball scandal broke at the University. Shane told me of a big press conference and I e-mailed him back, asking him if he was hinting to me he’d cover it for us.
On short-notice without credentials, Shane snuck into a press conference and raced back to his room.
He then churned out the best story I read anywhere on the event and we put it on page 1. It was accurate, concise and done in a timely fashion you don’t see from a college student. Shane then called me at 3 a.m. to make sure I got it. He was still up working as he normally did.
I knew then he had “it.” And unless you have really worked at a newspaper, you don’t know what “it” is. For Shane, “it” was running a week on no sleep. Yet a big story will come up and you find the time and energy to put together a masterpiece. Some people work their whole life in the business and don’t get “it” or have “it.”
Shane had “it.”
I figured I’d wait to tell him this. There’s no sense in giving a rookie a big head.
And that’s something else I liked about him. He could take kidding. We even joked about his heart and the pressure of the newspaper. While some had questioned if Shane could handle the grind, he appreciated the fact I did not even blink when the subject came up. He wanted to be treated like everyone else.
On Thursday last week, Shane collapsed at the Reilly Center on the St. Bonaventure campus. When he came to, there was a crowd. He made a joke to the athletic trainer and waited for the ambulance. He asked the crowd that gathered to move on. They didn’t. He snapped at the crowd to move on. They did.
Shane would not get on a stretcher, he wanted to walk to the ambulance. His parents met him at Olean General and Shane convinced everyone he was fine. Instead of going right to bed, Shane went to a professor to make sure he didn’t miss any assignments. Then, he went and checked on the newspaper and the radio station to see if they needed anything. Finally, he went with his friends to dinner at Applebee’s.
The next morning, Shane’s roommates heard the eerie noise of the alarm clock continuing to go off. The heart finally gave out.
Did Shane lead a short life? Yes. But there were no regrets. He lived 23 years, but he was up 20 hours a day. He lived 46 years in terms of experience and excitement.
As Shane’s dad, Tim, left the hospital Friday, he was asked by a university official if he needed anything. With his head down, Tim slowly walked away and softly and said “no.” But he stopped, lifted his head and exclaimed “I want that piece of paper,” and walked away.
The piece of paper? Shane’s diploma. He was 50 days away from graduation.
Does he deserve his diploma? Ask the 300 students from the Olean campus who will be in Wellsville the next two days for the wake and funeral. Don’t ask them what Shane learned. Instead, ask them what Shane taught them. I learned a lot from that amazing young man and even though I never had a chance to tell him, I will use him as an example with every reporter I ever hire.
Shane earned that piece of paper. And he earned a special place in our heart.
(John Anderson is the managing editor of the Wellsville Daily Reporter)
From Nicole Schuman-Nibley:
In 2003, at 21 years old, everything seemed like the greatest drama ever — what costumes would we wear to the Senior Days event? Whose house were we pregaming at? Why wasn’t I invited to so-and-so’s afterparty? Why was the taco pizza discontinued?!
My good friend and classmate Shane, never worried about that silly stuff. He always showed up smiling and laughing and brought the party. And he had plenty to worry about—being the recipient of not one, but two heart transplants since he was a kid. He could have spent every day wondering why he had to take this medication or why he had to go to this doctor, but instead, he just lived his life even grander—making jazz hands all the way through or letting us know, “It’s fine.”
I last saw Shane 51 days before graduation in the place we first met while working on the news team together—WSBU 88.3 FM The Buzz—St. Bonaventure University’s radio station. He had spent the few previous days in the hospital—some health complications that he didn’t care to bore us with—and showed up to say hi while I dj’d my 9-11 p.m. shift. I looked at him wide-eyed, and in a stern tone said, “What are you doing here? You should be in bed, resting!” (I can see my finger pointing now.) He giggled and smiled and said, “I’m fine!” We talked for a minute or two and hugged goodnight. I wish I could remember more of that possibly mundane conversation.
Having someone check in on you or pop in to wherever you are just to say hi for no reason is something we don’t see much nowadays. Shane always wanted to be around people and made every individual feel special in so many ways. Even when he was feeling awful. Seeing him that last time, I always wondered if he knew what was coming. If he made the extra effort to see everyone that night at The BonaVenture newspaper or the radio station just in case.
Shane passed away that night, warm in his bed, surrounded by his friends, doing homework or snoozing away in the rooms of their apartment. I’m glad he was surrounded by the people who loved him most.
Fast-forward 20 years later to 2023 and our college reunion, and our old asses find out that there’s a new journalism building being built on campus. With opportunities to fund and give naming rights to classrooms and offices and lounges.
It hit instantly.
A lounge should be named after Shane (the BV was taken!). A place where students could laugh together and learn and spend time just living life. He spent so many hours in that journalism school. He gave so much to the campus and the community. He deserves to be a part of it forever.
So we have launched a drive for the Shane Colligan memorial lounge at the St. Bonaventure University Jandoli School of Communication at St. Bonaventure University. His wonderful family has given its blessing. And our small, but mighty army of journalism grads and friends and alumni are ready to hit that $50,000 goal.
Last we heard, we were at about 26% since launching almost 2 weeks ago. Every little bit counts. Even if you didn’t know Shane, but are a fan of Bonaventure or journalism or just people being good humans, like Shane was—we’d love for you to be a partner in reaching our goal.
Life is so much more complicated now than in 2003—and I often wonder how Shane would have tackled it. Just knowing there is someone out there like him in the universe, looking out on all of us, brings a comfort that is needed and cherished.
And just for your curiosity the photo is from one of our Senior Days—where of course Shane went as what I think was the Fonz, and we his gals. From left to right we have Liz Keener, Carlton Ashton, Nora Bealey White, Shane (god bless him never having to know social media), and me. I think that sticker I’m wearing said something like “You’re the Ginchiest!”-c/o Shane.
If you are interested in contributing, here is our link: https://netcommunity.sbu.edu/shane-colligan-memorial-lounge
Thank you for reading. And check in on a friend today.
From Johanna “Jo” Biviano:
Guess what’s missing in the brand new Journalism/Mass Communications building at Bona’s ….
Did you guess yet?
A Shane Colligan Memorial Lounge! (Obviously!)
Why a student lounge? Why Shane?
We have an opportunity to keep the cabbage burning on the SBU campus, FOREVOOORR.
We lost Shane 22 years ago, while he was pushing through his senior year following his second heart transplant. At the funeral, we gathered, laughed and cried and said, “There’s no way a life that powerful can be gone from the world.”
We were right about that. Shane’s dogged optimism and exuberant kindness still reverberate through all who knew him. He linked people together beyond cliques and campus politics.
I still miss him. And I’m still so grateful to have known him. My best friend – the guy who spent long nights in The Laurel office so I didn’t have to walk back alone at 2am. The guy who leapt over the quad to hug me, singing off-key, and then complained that I made him exercise. The guy who wore pajama pants under his pants so he could “strip” anytime.
Not to mention, that three-hearted fool could LOUNGE. Shane had a rule about stretchy pants, and that was “Yes please, always.” The perfect lounge would have a tv for playing Muppet movies (recorded from TV and chaotically labeled) a stock of Tim Horton’s coffee and all the necessities for procrastination. (Which could be anything from a roll of paper towels to an arsenal of post-it notes and rubber bands.)
(There is a park in Wellsville that was built and named in Shane’s honor. Here is a story from Channel 2 (click HERE) and a link to the Facebook page HERE
This is the link to donate to Shane’s lounge: https://netcommunity.sbu.edu/shane-colligan-memorial-lounge
