As we celebrate 30 years of Nfocus, we have asked our friends in the community — many of whom have been with us since the beginning — to tell their story in their own words. Throughout the year, readers will hear from those who have graced our pages and supported our stories.

This month, we asked Mike Smith, president of FW Publishing, to share stories of his time with Herbert Fox.

Herbert Fox Jr. was the epitome of a gentleman — stylish, witty, humorous, clever and insightful, occasionally acerbic, but in the best way. Many of those qualities make up the pillars of the Nfocus brand. He could seamlessly maneuver through a crowd, so smoothly capturing the essence of an event and the people who made it happen. Most often, he’d wind up holding court with a few friends and favorites spinning tales, with perhaps a little gossip thrown in. You wanted to be in that circle. Herbert was “old Nashville.” His friends from Parmer School became some of his first investors in Nfocus, along with a few fortunate others who believed in his vision.

Herbert had a remarkable background — living a life so full it could be the plot of a novel. After graduating from Montgomery Bell Academy and Vanderbilt University, he served as a first lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force, flying missions over Korea. Later, as the public relations director for the National Cotton Council, he staged high-fashion photo shoots with a young Ali MacGraw in New York, as well as others in Egypt and Morocco. He bought and lovingly restored a château in the Loire Valley. But it was his work on the homefront that would bring him the most joy. He worked as an editor for The Nashville Record and later became a reporter for the Nashville Banner. His greatest joy, before creating Nfocus, was in his role as head writer for the country-music-based variety show Hee Haw.

In 1993, Herbert was inspired to create Nfocus magazine — which he referred to as “our little pamphlet.” To be fair, earlier on, it was just that. The magazine was printed on newsprint and filled with grainy black-and-white photos. It was almost entirely written by Herbert, so he did not use bylines, but it was still intriguing to peruse because it was filled with Nashville personalities. Familiar with the society pages of New York, London and other metropolitan markets of the day, Herbert wanted what he was doing to be Southern and genteel yet with a snappy, entre-nous voice. He enjoyed Palm Beach’s oversized “Shiny Sheet,” which set the template for Nfocus over these 30 years. As we developed our take on the lifestyles of the local social set, beyond the galas and events, we borrowed elements from Vanity Fair or Town & Country — insider scoop, pulling back the curtain a bit on how socials live, but making it accessible.

Herbert had a gift for writing in a style that brought readers under the tent, as if a good chum were sharing the juicy details. Whether you’d met him or not, his voice was distinct, personable and spare. He was inimitable. His personality — witty, worldly, smart with a tilt toward francophilia — became our “tone.” Nfocus was his opportunity to showcase the society side of Nashville. What began as lifting the veil into private parties and fundraisers evolved into stories of haute couture, entertaining, beauty and travel — always with the lens focused on Nashville. Herbert’s coverage of the philanthropic events were an insider’s perspective, perhaps a more provocative, albeit subjective, read than event coverage from the dailies back then. I admittedly didn’t know much about Nfocus when I started in advertising in 1997, but soon, once I was out speaking with business owners about their goals, it became clear that Nfocus filled a niche in attracting a discerning clientele that was otherwise hard to reach. My goal was growing the Nfocus brand in the market and appealing to new luxury retailers that choose Nashville as their next move. Herbert had a way of making everyone he wrote about feel special. There was a love there, sometimes a wry tease, but always with an affection for the subject and story.

I often refer to Herbert as being “stylish,” and he was, but not because he wore the newest fashions. He had a specific personal style. He seldom wore socks with his loafers (back before that was en vogue) and wasn’t afraid to wear a neckerchief or ascot. He was always in a blazer or jacket. And perhaps most importantly, he carried himself with a quiet, knowing confidence and a ready smile — he was always delightful to run into — those things one can’t buy, and that to me are the building blocks of a true gentleman. Herbert was taken from us too soon, yet with each click of the laptop’s keys, we honor his history and legacy. In the words of Herbert as he would end his calls, “You’re a sweetheart. Bye.”