Michael Hechtman, a Towering Figure in NY Journalism, Dies at 82

Michael Hechtman, a Towering Figure in NY Journalism, Dies at 82

Edited by: Fern Sidman

Michael Hechtman, a towering figure in New York journalism and a cornerstone of The New York Post for over four decades, passed away on Friday at the age of 82. According to a report in The New York Post, Hechtman died peacefully in his sleep at the Methodist Home for Nursing and Rehabilitation in the Bronx after battling lymphoma. His passing marks the end of an era for the storied tabloid and leaves behind a legacy of mentorship, unflinching editorial rigor, and a personality as colorful as the headlines he shaped.

Throughout his career at The New York Post, Hechtman became known not only for his exceptional editorial talent but also for his unique teaching style. As The New York Post report highlights, he was both beloved and irascible—a tough but fair mentor to countless young reporters. He was famous for making cub reporters sit next to him at his desk while he meticulously dismantled their stories.

“One of the first things he would do is create a huge gap, six to seven spaces between your byline and what was your lede, because you were going to start over again,” former Post Metro Editor Eric Lenkowitz told The New York Post.

Despite his tough approach, Hechtman had an undeniable talent for spotting raw potential. As Lenkowitz emphasized, “He gave everyone a shot.” Former Post journalist Jennifer Fermino added, “I would have nothing without Mike — I would not have been a reporter.”

His mentoring wasn’t just about technical skills; it was about instilling confidence and resilience in young journalists. His sharp edits and sharp tongue were always delivered with the underlying goal of making every story—and every writer—better.

Michael Jay Hechtman was born on April 5, 1942, in Brooklyn, New York, to Henry Hechtman, a hat factory owner in the Garment District, and Rose Sass, a homemaker. As The New York Post recounted, his family later moved to Rego Park, Queens, where Hechtman lived in a modest studio apartment without a stove for decades.

Hechtman pursued his passion for journalism at Brooklyn College, where he worked on the school newspaper. He further honed his craft by earning a graduate degree from the University of Michigan. These formative academic years laid the foundation for a career defined by precision, wit, and an unyielding commitment to the truth.

His service in the U.S. Army Reserves, where he managed press releases at Fort Dix in New Jersey, showcased his ability to handle high-pressure writing tasks. As The New York Post reported, he was honorably discharged in 1971.

Hechtman began his professional journalism career with stints at the Hartford Courant and the Associated Press before joining The New York Post in 1974. It was here that he truly made his mark.

 As The New York Post explained, Hechtman quickly gained a reputation as the “super rewrite man”—an editor who could transform chaotic field notes from street reporters into sharp, polished prose that resonated with the tabloid’s signature punch.

One of Hechtman’s defining moments came in the aftermath of Yankees catcher Thurman Munson’s tragic plane crash in the late 1970s. Former city editor Dick Belsky recalled that when Post publisher Rupert Murdoch demanded the best writer for the story, there was no hesitation: “We gave it to Hechtman.”

As a night editor, Hechtman became notorious for his dedication to getting every detail right—no matter the hour. Reporters knew better than to ignore their phones at 2 a.m., as Hechtman would have zero hesitation in calling them for clarifications.

Yet, his stern approach was always matched by his editorial brilliance. As former Post reporter Cynthia Fagen told The New York Post, “He could take a 20-paragraph story and turn it into a haiku, that’s how good he was.”

His precision with words and sharp editorial eye became his defining trademarks, cementing his reputation as one of the finest editors in The New York Post’s long history.

Beyond his journalistic prowess, The New York Post described Hechtman as a man with “gallows humor” and a love for Stephen Sondheim musicals, often belting out show tunes during quiet newsroom moments. His personality was a blend of sharp wit, unfiltered opinions, and a deep love for storytelling.

Hechtman’s passion for the craft extended beyond the newsroom. He was an embodiment of tabloid journalism—fierce, unrelenting, and unapologetic. He carried the weight of every headline, every edit, and every story with pride.

Hechtman’s humor was legendary in the newsroom. Former Post journalist Jennifer Fermino recalled that Hechtman kept a private collection of headlines deemed “too rude” to make it to print—a testament to his sharp and often irreverent wit.

But his comedic flair wasn’t confined to headlines. According to The New York Post report, Hechtman once famously rewrote the lyrics to “Oklahoma!” to celebrate the Jewish New Year, offering a delightfully absurd rendition: “Rosh Hashana, where the wind comes sweeping down the plains / and the matzoh ball stands proud and tall / we know we belong to the shul / and the shul we belong to is cool / and when we say vey, oy vey oy vey oy vey.”

This blend of humor and cultural awareness was quintessential Hechtman—a man who could make even the most serious moments lighter without losing sight of their importance.

Beyond the newsroom, Hechtman had two deep passions: New York City’s transit system and cats. According to the information provided in The New York Post report, he creatively combined these two loves by naming his feline companions after various NYC rail systems and companies. His cats sported names like “BMT” (Brooklyn-Manhattan Transit Corp.) and “Metro-North.”

It was a reflection of Hechtman’s deep connection to the lifeblood of the city—the subway and train systems—and his sense of humor, even in the smallest details of his life.

In a twist that few might expect from a veteran night editor, Hechtman was also a licensed pilot. As The New York Post reported, he earned his pilot’s license in 1979 after a trip to the South Pacific inspired him to take to the skies.

For nearly a decade, Hechtman piloted a twin-engine Cessna, frequently flying friends and colleagues to idyllic getaways in Newport and Martha’s Vineyard. This lesser-known facet of his life speaks to his adventurous spirit—a man equally comfortable navigating the chaotic newsroom floor and the open skies.

Even after his official retirement in 2014, Hechtman couldn’t stay away from The New York Post. He returned to contribute part-time, penning the beloved column “Weird But True.”

It was a perfect match for Hechtman’s sharp wit and encyclopedic knowledge of oddities, and his contributions to the column became a reader favorite.

Former Post journalist Linda Massarella captured Hechtman’s essence in her tribute: “Mike was New York City. The five boroughs were like his own fingerprints — he just knew every inch of it — and as a new reporter, it was awesome to prowl the streets knowing the best editor on the planet had my back.”

For those who worked under him, Hechtman wasn’t just an editor; he was a guardian, ensuring every word printed in The Post met his exacting standards.

As per the information contained in The New York Post report, Hechtman battled dementia for the past five years. While he had no living blood relatives, he was surrounded by love and loyalty from his closest friend, Shelagh Masline, her daughter Caitlin, and Caitlin’s fiancé Ernie Wooden.

It was Masline who shared one of the most poignant details about Hechtman’s final wishes. In a 2007 letter, he humorously but firmly requested that The New York Post refrain from printing an obituary for him upon his death. “If they do, I’ll come back and haunt them,” he warned.

Of course, The New York Post could not, and should not, honor that request. A man who dedicated over 40 years of his life to the paper, who mentored generations of journalists, and who shaped the voice of one of New York’s most iconic tabloids, deserves to have his story told.

Michael Hechtman was not just an editor—he was a fixture in the soul of The New York Post. His sharp edits, sleepless nights perfecting copy, and indelible sense of humor made him more than a colleague; he was a legend.

Whether rewriting Broadway lyrics, naming cats after transit lines, or trimming overwrought stories into sharp, powerful prose, Hechtman embodied everything that made The New York Post the irreverent, fearless, and essential newspaper it is today.

As The New York Post so poignantly captured, Hechtman wasn’t just an editor; he was “New York City.” His fingerprints are on every corner of the newsroom and every sentence that passed under his watchful eye.

His legacy will not only live on in the stories he shaped but also in the countless lives he touched with his unwavering dedication to the truth.