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Joseph H. Ball, advertising executive, publisher, ‘copy boy’ — and ‘newspaper man’ — dies at 93

Mr. Ball had an insatiable appetite for people's stories. Once upon a time, he planned to be a mortician.

Attending Joe Ball's 90th birthday surprise event in 2019 were from left to right: his longtime secretary, Kathy Newmiller; wife, Sandy Ball; former Sixers coach Jim Lynam; producer, Kierstyn Satkowski; and Dei Lynam. And that's Mr. Ball seated in the middle.
Attending Joe Ball's 90th birthday surprise event in 2019 were from left to right: his longtime secretary, Kathy Newmiller; wife, Sandy Ball; former Sixers coach Jim Lynam; producer, Kierstyn Satkowski; and Dei Lynam. And that's Mr. Ball seated in the middle.Read moreBall family photo

The time would come when at his invitation, the likes of first ladies Nancy Reagan and Betty Ford, Princess Grace Kelly, former Secretary of State Alexander Haig, and actress/super model Brooke Shields all would come to Philadelphia.

But what advertising executive and publisher and radio producer Joseph H. Ball spoke of almost “every day,” said his son, Robert Ball, was the job that launched his seven-decade career — “copy boy” at The Inquirer. For the rest of his life, Mr. Ball, 93, who died April 6 at his Penn Valley home of prostate cancer and heart failure, would consider himself a “newspaper man,” said his wife of 65 years, Sandra Ball, his cravings for people’s stories unquenchable.

He “always” talked about his experiences as a copy boy, said well-known sports analyst Dei Lynam, a close friend who hosted several radio programs that Mr. Ball had produced on WWDB-AM, even though she had warned him that such a prehistoric occupational reference would be lost on his younger colleagues.

True enough. As a calling, copy boy has gone the way of the lamplighter, and it never was a ticket to the bright lights. It meant running errands, getting coffee, taking orders from sometimes irascible reporters, retrieving clips from the newspaper “morgue,” the ghoulish journalistic term for library.

At deadline, when the newsroom became an orchestra of percussionists tapping out their stories in triplicate under clouds of blue smoke, the copy boys became the vital link between the word mongers and the readers. At the command “copy,” they hustled hastily written stories from desk to desk as impatient editors attempted to make them print-worthy, sometimes even successfully.

Mr. Ball relished the cacophony, and the roar and the rumble of the presses in the belly of what was The Inquirer tower at 400 N. Broad St. He loved stripping copy in the “wire room,” the clacking nerve center of worldwide news oozing at 60 words a minute from the Associated Press and United Press International machines. He was “very proud” that he was the first in the newsroom to learn that the United States recognized Israel as a state, said his son.

After his copy-boy stint, which lasted from 1947 to 1951, he would go on to found advertising, publishing, and public relations companies and become a radio producer, his energy as unwavering as his sense of humor. Still soliciting business in 2017, he aired a radio ad in which he is heard saying, “I am 88! ... Call me quickly ... for obvious reasons.”

Body of work

His father sold ads for The Inquirer, but Mr. Ball said that what really led him to the newsroom was his aspiration to be a mortician. Not being able to afford college, after graduating from Central High School in 1947, Mr. Ball enrolled in the Dolan School of Mortuary Science, at Broad and Spring Garden Streets.

“He lasted one week, one body,” said Sandra Ball. That inspired him to seek work at the nearest big building, the one occupied by The Inquirer and Daily News. He was hired and assigned to The Inquirer city desk.

He was mentored by editors and reporters who sometimes let him accompany them on stories, and particularly by the late Frank Brookhouser, a legendary columnist for The Inquirer and later the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, his wife said.

“That was his education, that was his learning experience, that was his college,” she said.

In 1949 he began writing stories for the company house organ, “Home Edition,” run by the Promotions Department. He was named editor, but insisted on remaining in the middle of the action, on the city desk, and wrote the newsletter articles on his days off.

Career change

His newspaper career was interrupted by a two-year tour in the Army, served mostly in Germany, where he wrote stories for military publications, and although he was welcomed back by The Inquirer, Mr. Ball decided he was ready to be his own boss.

In 1956 he started the company that grew into American Advertising Services Inc., headquartered at Front and Chestnut Streets, and in 1977 added a major business-publication firm, Advertising/Communications Times Inc. He kept those entities operating until the economic slowdown wrought by the pandemic in 2020.

Mr. Ball was involved in myriad other enterprises and civic organizations. Among what he called his “Lessons for Living” were: Do not hear the first “no.” Persevere, persevere, persevere. Avoid being the richest person in the cemetery.

It was in his roles as originator of the Philadelphia Vacation and Trade Show and program director for the philanthropic Golden Slipper Club that Mr. Ball managed to lure a lengthy list of celebrities to Philly, from Prince Rainier of Monaco to Chubby Checker.

Radio times

For several years Mr. Ball produced a variety of radio shows, said Lora Lewis, of Beasley Media Group, which owns WWDB, in Bala Cynwyd. She recalled that she worked at a desk with its own wind-chill factor thanks to the proximity of a cold-air duct. One day, Ball came in and threw a Target bag at her. “Happy Hanukah,” he declared. Inside was a space heater.

Lewis said that from 2017 until 2020, Mr. Ball showed up at the station twice a week to produce his shows, in which hosts, such as Dei Lynam, the longtime Comcast 76ers specialist and daughter of ex-coach Jim Lynam, would interview guests about their lives.

“He loved people,” she said. “His interest in knowing what made you what your are or what you do, was fascinating. His whole world was about people, and connecting with people, and he never really wanted to let that go.”

She said that she conducted one all-time favorite interview in late 2019, around the time of Mr. Ball’s 90th birthday. Unbeknownst to Mr. Ball, he was the surprise guest that day. Said Dei Lynam, “It was the best.”

In addition to his wife and son, he is survived by two daughters, Yelane Rosenbaum and Nanelle Meyers, and eight grandchildren

Services were held on April 10 at the Joseph Levine & Sons funeral home in Blue Bell, Montgomery County.

The family said that contributions may be made to the charity of the donor’s choice.