THETFORD — As an old-school newspaperman, Gene Cassidy was a masterful storyteller who could reel in readers with a simple opening line.

“I’d like to say a few words in defense of my friend Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis,” he began a 1988 column on the eve of a tabloid-style book coming out about the former first lady.

The book’s author wanted the public to believe “Jackie is horribly chintzy,” which was “simply not true,” Cassidy told readers.

He described how the two of them had met outside the Ritz Carlton in Boston. “Jackie and I shared a cab once,” Cassidy said. “Of course, I was the driver.”

Classic Cassidy.

Self-deprecating. To the point. And as his daughter, Maggie, aptly put it, “He had a low tolerance for BS.”

Cassidy died May 2 at the Jack Byrne Center for Palliative & Hospice Care in Lebanon, after suffering a severe stroke days earlier. He was 70.

Cassidy grew up and spent much of his working life in the Boston area before moving to the Upper Valley in 2014. Although he lived in the Upper Valley for a relatively short time, he made his mark.

“Gene made the Upper Valley his home and got involved in a lot of things,” said John Gregg, now the managing editor for Dartmouth College’s office of communications, who stayed in touch with his former editor at a suburban Boston daily newspaper.

Cassidy plunged into Upper Valley life, literally. Last December, while other people were bundled up in winter coats on a White River Junction street, Cassidy was photographed sitting shirtless in an ice bath — singing a Beatles tune — to raise money for the Upper Valley Haven.

He was a regular host on nonprofit Royalton Community Radio, launching a weekly three-hour program that featured (but not exclusively) Vermont-based music. He participated in a weekly exercise group comprised mostly of older women and had recently joined a Thetford Hill book club.

By the time that he had settled in the Upper Valley, Cassidy’s work in journalism was mostly behind him. Not many customers at the Co-op’s food store in White River Junction knew the older, bearded man stocking shelves was a storied journalist who had molded the careers of dozens of young reporters and editors.

“He was a mentor to a lot of people,” said Gregg, who was a reporter and columnist under Cassidy at the MetroWest Daily News in Framingham, Mass., from 1999 to 2002.

Cassidy’s rise in the newspaper world couldn’t have been predicted. He worked in restaurants and drove a cab before hitching on with the Middlesex (Mass.) News as a local news correspondent, writing about Flag Day celebrations and pumpkin festivals. He took pictures, too.

Writing a column for the paper became another side gig. House painting and carpentry paid the bills.

Having proven that he was a deft writer and reporter, the paper, which became MetroWest Daily News in 1998, hired him to run its night desk.

“He brought an everyman quality to the newspaper,” said Rus Lodi, the paper’s former executive editor. “He drew upon his background to push dozens of entry-level reporters to declutter their stories of inside-baseball jargon and make their stories more simple and relatable to everyday readers.”

But he was also demanding.

On deadline, especially, Cassidy could be “gruff, with a newsroom temperament that ranged from seething exasperation to unbridled generosity and warmth,” Maggie Cassidy wrote in her father’s obituary. (Cassidy, who followed her dad into journalism, is a former reporter and editor at the Valley News and VtDigger.)

“When he walked into the newsroom in the early evening, always with a big cup of coffee, you knew it was game time,” Gregg said. “He could be funny, but he was serious.”

Cassidy led by example. He wrote about a disabled veteran who nobody wanted to hire except to pump gas. He scrutinized police for a high-speed chase that resulted in the death of the driver of a stolen car. He skewered Gov. Michael Dukakis and state legislators for wanting to cut welfare benefits to the “sub-poor.”

In 1987, he wrote Massachusetts welfare recipients were being given a choice when it came to feeding their families: “They can choose (to eat) the first two weeks of every month or every other day.”

His writing was “unpretentious, not out of the ivory tower,” said his daughter. “That’s who he was.”

The son of a federal immigration judge and homemaker, Cassidy dropped out of Boston University, just shy of earning a degree, to live with friends at the beach, making his way from Cape Cod, Mass., to Key West, Fla.

He was fond of road trips. As a teenager in 2005, Charlie Cassidy traveled across the country with his dad and two corgis, Lilo and Louie, in a convertible Chrysler LeBaron.

They avoided interstate highways and stopped in small towns, where his dad would strike up conversations with strangers.

“It was a genuine curiosity that he had in people and what they had to say,” Charlie said.

They reached Yellowstone National Park just as a late-spring snowstorm was hitting. “All the hotels were booked up,” Charlie said. “We spent the night in our tent — us and his corgis.”

While their father could give off a carefree vibe, his life wasn’t always “hunky-dory,” Maggie Cassidy said.

In 2009, he suffered a stroke. For years, he battled bouts of depression. “He was open about it,” Maggie said. “He would want other people going through real despair to know that they could get through it. Sometimes, it just takes longer than other times.”

In 2014, two years after Maggie had moved from Hawaii to take a job at the Valley News, she encouraged her father to join her in the Upper Valley. (Cassidy and his wife, Nancy, had divorced in 2012.)

David Briggs, owner of the Hotel Coolidge in downtown White River Junction, was among the first people he met. Looking back, Briggs couldn’t recall if Cassidy came into the Coolidge in search of a room or a job.

Cassidy ended up with both, living at the Coolidge while working as its night front-desk clerk. “He was at a phase in his life when that was a good combination for him,” Briggs said.

After he moved into his own apartment, Briggs and Cassidy remained friends. “Gene was a likable, humble guy,” Briggs said.

Late at night, he’d sit outside the hotel’s front door on South Main Street, engaging in a bit of people-watching while taking drags of an unfiltered Camel. He took up smoking after suffering his initial stroke, which everyone around him recognized wasn’t a wise decision.

It didn’t matter. “He wanted to live his life the way he wanted to,” Maggie said.

In 2019, Charlie Cassidy joined his father and sister in the Upper Valley. After Charlie had been here for a while, his dad asked if he’d like to move in with him.

“He’d wake up at 4:30 in the morning to write, read or just feed the birds,” Charlie said. “He’d also work on his playlist for his radio show.”

Royalton Community Radio, an all-volunteer operation, is “full of characters and interesting people,” said Jim Rooney, a program host. “Gene qualified on both accounts.”

Coming up with the idea for a Vermont-based music program in 2021, Cassidy “found a niche,” Rooney said. Although the program’s playlist quickly expanded beyond Vermont musicians, Cassidy shined a light on “all the artists we have here in the woods,” Rooney added.

Rooney, a longtime record producer and recording engineer in Nashville, Tenn., lives in Sharon and serves on the Royalton station’s governing board.

Cassidy wasn’t on the board, but came to its meetings — bringing along snacks for everyone. At a recent meeting, the board surprised Rooney by announcing the station’s studio was being named in his honor.

“It was a sweet gesture,” said the 87-year-old Rooney. “It means a lot to me.”

And he has Cassidy to thank for proposing the idea to the board. “I’m sure that I’m not the only person that he touched that way,” Rooney said.

At the White River Junction Co-op, where he referred to himself as a “soup-can stacker,” Cassidy could “relate to anyone,” said Dave Phillips, one of his co-workers. “He had his opinions, but he always listened to what other people had to say.”

Casey Brown, another co-worker, said Cassidy was “great to work with. He was always willing to help you out.”

Cassidy was known for giving small gifts — books and trinkets — to friends and co-workers. It was his way of saying, ‘I was thinking about you,’ ” his son said.

He was probably more generous than he should have been. “My dad didn’t have a lot of money at the end,” Maggie Cassidy said. “He was living frugally.”

After their father’s death, Maggie and Charlie heard from the Co-op. Unbeknownst to them, he had taken out a life insurance policy through the Co-op, naming them as the beneficiaries.

“Even though life was tough for him, he was always looking out for us,” Maggie said.

On Saturday, a celebration of Cassidy’s life will be held at the Hotel Coolidge, starting at 2 p.m.

For the event, Cassidy’s children are putting together a collection of his writings. It may or may not include his column about his friend Jackie. But in case anyone was wondering, she left him a generous tip.

And better yet, for Gene Cassidy, the writer, a story to share with his readers.

Jim Kenyon can be reached at jkenyon@vnews.com.