Bony Saludes, legendary Press Democrat reporter, dies at 90

Bony Saludes was a diligent, always-digging Press Democrat reporter who for decades was a fixture at the Sonoma County courthouse, and who, owing to his driven hands-on nature, once or twice became part of the story.

Saludes, whose very first project for the newspaper in 1953 won him substantial awards and admiration, died May 21, of advanced age and a couple of longstanding exceptions to his generally hale condition. He’d have turned 91 in early June.

“Indefatigable. That’s the first thing that comes to my mind,” said former Sonoma County District Attorney Mike Mullins.

“If he caught the scent of a story, he would hound it down to the last nub,” said Mullins, who was district attorney from 1995 to 2002. He added that if Saludes was after you for an article, “You might as well give up and think about what you’re going to say.”

An old-school, shoe-leather newspaperman, Saludes contributed to The Press Democrat’s coverage of some of the late 20th century’s most harrowing local crimes. Among them: the 1989 murder spree by Ramon Salcido of Sonoma Valley; the 1993 kidnapping and slaying of 12-year-old Polly Klaas by Richard Allen Davis; and the 1995 murder of Deputy Sheriff Frank Trejo by Robert Scully in a parking lot between Santa Rosa and Sebastopol.

“Everywhere you turned, he was there. When he interviewed me, he didn’t just accept my answer. He would ask follow-up questions. He challenged me. He kept me on my toes,” said Chris Andrian, one of the region’s leading criminal defense attorneys.

Added Andrian, “He was a sweetheart, a wonderful man. He was very smart, too. Very incisive.”

Compact and generally soft-spoken, Saludes was a pillar of the PD newsroom for 43 years.

‘He did everything’

“Like a lot of us at the time, he did everything,” said retired reporter and columnist Gaye LeBaron, who wrote her first Press Democrat story in 1955. Though Saludes became best known for the depth, thoroughness and insight of his coverage of criminal trials, he also reported on community events, politics, whatever was asked of him.

Former Press Democrat editor and publisher Bruce Kyse called him “something of a legend in the Press Democrat newsroom” and for decades the news editors’ “quiet and stoic warrior.”

“He was the go-to reporter on so many topics,” Kyse added, “and we took advantage of his news acumen, speed and accuracy as often as we could.”

One of Saludes’ most extraordinary days as a reporter occurred in March 1973.

Deputies had pulled over a car occupied by four men on Highway 116 near Sebastopol, and there was gunfire. Two deputies were injured. The suspects fled. Two of them entered a house near Sebastopol and took a widowed mother, Michaela Madden, hostage.

The armed suspects, one of whom had taken a bullet to a leg, allowed both Saludes and an unarmed sheriff’s lieutenant to enter the house. Over the course of five fearful and anxious hours, Saludes assured the men he would help them get out of the situation alive, and by phone he demanded that deputies outside back away.

In a biographical story he wrote later, Saludes recalled gunman Dave Savory telling him, “You’re the only person I can trust. Tell me, do we have a chance?”

Saludes wrote that he told Savory, “You have a chance only if you give me the gun and surrender. Otherwise, you have no chance at all.”

A short while later, both Savory and the second suspect in the house, Dave Ferguson, handed the reporter their handguns. They walked outside and were arrested without further incident.

A grateful Michaela Madden would write to The Press Democrat’s editor that the night of the hostage ordeal “was long and tense, and the outcome was in doubt through much of it.

“Bony undoubtedly included himself in my dilemma as a means of getting a story. He got the story and he also revealed himself to be a man of courage, wisdom, compassion, ingenuity and immense calm. He was a true hero that night…”

In an unpublished book of stories and memories from his long life and career, Saludes reprinted the subsequent article from United Press International that told of his surprise to receive a letter from the Sonoma County Superior Court just as the trial of Savory, Ferguson and their alleged accomplices was about to begin.

Saludes was being summoned for jury duty — for that trial.

“I, of course, was disqualified as a juror,” he wrote.

Elsewhere in his book, he recalled going in 1961 to a standoff between deputies and a man wielding a rifle. That time, too, the man with the gun was calmed by Saludes’ presence and surrendered to him.

Boniface Saludes was born in the Tuolumne County town of Sonora on June 5, 1932. He was the youngest of four children of immigrants from Mexico, Juan and Belen Saludes.

Saludes studied journalism at Modesto Junior College, then Fresno State. He was still a year from graduating when one of his professors arranged for him to be a summer relief reporter at The Press Democrat. Weeks later, editor-in-chief Art Volkerts approached him with an idea.

Saludes would recall years later that Volkerts “wanted me to pose as an illegal alien — or a ‘wetback’ as they were called then — in the flourishing apple business in western Sonoma County. Among other things, he wanted to know how easy it was for illegals to get jobs in agriculture, their living conditions and how they were treated by employers.”

It was August of 1953 and Saludes was 21 years old when he went undercover among migrant field workers. The series that appeared in the PD beneath his byline was a striking success, and brought him and the paper a number of prestigious awards.

Impressed by the young newsman’s premiere work, Volkerts offered him a staff-writer position. Saludes hired on in 1954, quickly becoming one of the most productive and respected people in the newsroom.

“He was the classic ‘street’ reporter,” said Chris Coursey, a former Press Democrat reporter and columnist who now chairs the Sonoma County Board of Supervisors.

“He knew every lawyer in the courthouse, and every cop on the beat. He had every important person's phone number, and if they weren't answering their phone, Bony likely knew where they were drinking.”

On the last day before his retirement in 1997, Saludes filed a news story or two, stood up from his desk and, as though it was simply the close of another workday, stepped toward the newsroom door. Spotting him, fellow reporter Tom Chorneau stood, and clapped.

Soon everyone in the room was on their feet, thanking Saludes with a heartfelt ovation.

“I’d never seen that happen before,” Gaye LeBaron said.

Saludes is survived by his wife of 37 years, Jeanie Anderson Saludes; his children, Andrea Saludes and Trinidad Saludes, both of Santa Rosa; Quentin Saludes of Santa Cruz, and Susan Saludes and Chris Summit, both of Santa Rosa; and two grandchildren.

A celebration of his life is planned for the fall.