There are people whose influence is felt long before it’s ever formally acknowledged—those steady, generous, quietly powerful presences who help shape both a workplace and the people within it. For Midtown and 5 West magazines, Ronny Stephens was unmistakably one of those presences. His loss leaves a space that cannot be filled, but his impact continues to echo through every corner of this publication.
Ronny had a natural way of bringing people together. Not through grand gestures, but through the consistency of his character. He was kind in the purest sense of the word—steadfast, thoughtful, and generous without ever seeking attention for it. He offered kindness easily, believing deeply in the importance of treating people well. That belief showed up everywhere: in his family, in the longstanding relationships he built in the magazine world, and in the way he interacted with colleagues, clients, and friends who trusted him implicitly—especially here within the walls of the Midtown office.
He was also, at his core, devoted. To his work. To the people he worked alongside. To the idea that relationships matter more than transactions. Even on difficult days, he approached his role with a sense of purpose that inspired the rest of us. He took his work seriously, but he never let it overshadow its humanity. In an industry driven by deadlines and shifting schedules, Ronny reminded us that people—not pages—are what make a magazine truly meaningful.
Those who watched him navigate both life and work often noticed the same thing: Ronny had a way of anchoring others.
He created a sense of steadiness, a soft place to land. He built relationships intentionally, nurturing them long after the business part had ended. The trust people placed in him wasn’t accidental; it was earned through years of showing up with sincerity, humor, and reliability.
His humor, too, was one of his gifts. Even on tough days, he was quick with a joke, a smile, or a moment of levity that made the room feel lighter. He could laugh at himself just as easily as he could make others laugh—a rare and disarming trait that bonded people to him instantly.
Among his family, Ronny was known as a strong, gentle presence—a man who balanced softness with stability and made every person in the room feel valued. He formed individual relationships with each of his grandchildren, giving them the kind of intentional attention that becomes a lifelong lesson in how to show up for others. His family remembers him as a pillar, yet also as a source of comfort. Those qualities extended far beyond home; anyone who worked with Ronny recognized that same grounding force in him.
He loved the small joys of life, the traditions that give a family its rhythm and memories. He loved storytelling, a good laugh, a loyal dog, and the kind of humor that brings people closer together. And he brought those joys into his work as well—reminding us that magazines aren’t only about reporting, but about capturing the heart of a community.
As we honor him in these pages, we carry forward the lessons he leaves behind: to lead with kindness, to invest in relationships, to find humor even in the hard moments, and to treat people with the sincerity they deserve. Midtown and 5 West magazines will continue to reflect the community Ronny cared for—and in many ways, will continue to reflect him. To Ronny: Thank you for your steady presence, humor, generosity, and the legacy you leave in this magazine and among the people who create it. We will miss you, but your imprint remains, guiding us forward.
