By Janet Gramza

Contributing writer

On the Tuesday after Memorial Day 2011, Chris Carola arrived at the Associated Press Albany office at 5:30 a.m. and began scrolling websites to catch up on news across the state.

As he scanned syracuse.com, the name "Chris Ulanowski" caught his eye. Ulanowski, a colleague who served on the AP Broadcasters Association board, won many AP awards in his 27 years as news director of WRVO, the National Public Radio station in Oswego.

Carola clicked on Ulanowski’s name and gasped. “It was his obit,” Carola said. “I was just shocked.” His friend was dead at 51.

Carola searched for tributes to Ulanowski, who received a lifetime achievement award from the Syracuse Press Club in 2008. There were none. In the coming days, Carola and others listened for any mention of the passing of a respected newsman who spent three decades on the radio.

The silence was deafening.

That’s partly because Ulanowski took his own life, and the media generally don’t report suicides. But it’s also because of the troubling way Ulanowski’s career ended 20 months before.

Most people didn't know that the confident professional they heard on the air struggled with a severe mental illness called borderline personality disorder, which causes unstable moods, behaviors and personal relationships. One in 10 people who have it commit suicide — more than 50 times the rate in the general population — and more than half attempt suicide at least once.

Ulanowski used alcohol and marijuana to self-medicate against crushing emotional pain, his family said. In August 2009, he was charged with marijuana possession in a late-night police stop.

Although the charge was ultimately dismissed, the incident led to his firing on Sept. 8, 2009.

That’s when Ulanowski slid from productivity and local celebrity into unemployment and a deep despair that ended last Memorial Day when he rose in the wee hours as his wife slept, went out to his barn and hanged himself.

Ulanowski’s family shared his story to pay tribute to him and raise awareness of borderline personality disorder. Mentally ill people often are misunderstood and their disorders overlooked with tragic results.

Driven journalist who hid an anguished soul

Ulanowski was a brilliant, driven, meticulous journalist who hid an anguished soul from everyone who didn’t know him well, his family said.

He grew up in Buffalo, the youngest child of older parents. His father was an angry man who coped by drinking, his family said. He was 11 when his mother killed herself by swallowing drain cleaner. Chris was the one who found her.

As a teen, Ulanowski immersed himself in school and the music of the Grateful Dead. He left home at 17 to study broadcast journalism at Canisius College. In 1979, at age 19, he met Shelley Manley, then a 22-year-old widow with a 4-year-old daughter.

Manley’s first husband died shortly after their daughter, Charity Musielak, was born. Manley and Ulanowski bonded quickly and stayed together for 32, often-stormy years. He raised Charity, now 37, as his own, and they had two other daughters, Lindsey and Hillary Manley, now 30 and 26. When their two younger daughters were born, Ulanowski agreed to give them Shelley’s last name because it was easier to spell. But his name soon became a household word in Central New York.

At 22, he landed a reporting job at WRVO and soon became its first full-time news director. He was tall, blond and charming, with a dry sense of humor and a mellow, made-for-radio voice.

Former interns described Ulanowski as a serious, dedicated editor who demanded excellence. He hosted a weekly news show, “Talk of the Region,” reported breaking news and in-depth stories, held live panel discussions and moderated political debates, all while mentoring several students a semester.

» Audio: Listen to clips of three broadcasts by Chris Ulanowski

In the 1990s, as WRVO extended its broadcast area throughout Central New York, Ulanowski honed its all-news format and focused on regional issues.

“He really brought WRVO to the next level,” said former intern Matt Bishop, now a dispatcher with Onondaga County 911. “He knew how to organize news coverage so it was done right, and that was reflected in all the awards he won.”

“Usually, the news director accepts most of the awards,” Carola said. “Chris would bring his young staffers and send them up to collect their awards. He was always good about deflecting praise to the younger reporters.”

Barrie Gewanter, director of the Central New York chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union, said Ulanowski often interviewed her for stories involving civil rights.

“I came to know Chris as a consummate professional,” Gewanter said. “His voice was to die for, but he also had an intellect and a thoughtfulness that were remarkable. I knew if I was going to be interviewed by Chris, I had better be prepared.”

He drowned his anxieties in alcohol off duty

But while Ulanowski excelled at work, he came unhinged at home. His wife and daughters “walked on eggshells” because his mood could instantly shift from calm to furious. He grew easily annoyed and frequently abusive, “yelling, swearing, name-calling — everything short of physical violence,” Shelley said.

He also drowned his anxieties in alcohol when off duty, Shelley said. She researched mental illness and realized that “alcohol was not his problem, that he used it to try to deal with deeper issues,” she said. Friends urged her to leave, but she refused to give up on him.

Convinced that Chris needed treatment, Shelley persuaded him to see a doctor for his mood swings. He began taking anti-depressants, but kept drinking. He told people he suffered from depression even after learning he had a far more difficult disorder.

BPD is one of the most complex mental illnesses to treat and has a high risk of self-harm, said psychiatrist Robert Gregory, director of the Center for Emotion and Behavior Integration at Upstate Medical University and a specialist in BPD.

» Dr. Robert Gregory's manual on the treatment of borderline personality disorder

Gregory did not know Ulanowski; the doctor who treated him was uncomfortable discussing her patient. Gregory agreed to talk about BPD in general. He said it is characterized by impulsiveness, destructive behavior, sudden mood swings and chronic feelings of emptiness, shame and “badness.” It is often confused with bi-polar disorder because of the mood swings, but the “episodes of instability” are much more sudden, random and intense, Gregory said.

Up to 6 percent of population meet criteria for BPD

BPD got its name in the 1930s because it was thought to describe “the borderline between high-functioning people” with anxiety or depression and people disabled by schizophrenia and psychosis, Gregory said. “But we now know it’s a well-defined disorder in its own right.”

It affects 1 to 2 percent of the population “at any given time,” but up to 6 percent meet the criteria at some point in their lives,” Gregory said.

Experts don’t yet know what causes BPD, but studies indicate heredity and childhood trauma both play a role. Most people with BPD have “a co-occurring depressive disorder” and over two-thirds develop substance abuse problems, most commonly with alcohol, Gregory said. A significant number, mostly women, also engage in self-harm such as cutting.

Gregory said it’s not unusual for people with BPD to excel in high-powered jobs, but their illness will eventually interfere without proper treatment.

“Some people are able to function in certain areas — especially in their occupations — and hold it together reasonably well,” Gregory said. “But they will have enormous problems when they go home. They may be consuming large quantities of alcohol, having mood swings and having trouble sustaining meaningful relationships.”

Amy Cavalier, of Rochester, who worked for Ulanowski from 1999 to 2003, said he was a generous mentor who “built my knowledge of radio from the ground up.” Cavalier became a close friend who saw Ulanowski’s tormented side.

“It was painful to see someone suffering and not know how to help them,” she said. “I know it impacted his family relationships. But work was his escape. He could focus on his work and that was something that kept him strong.”

Despite the problems in his personal life, Ulanowski couldn’t tolerate journalistic sloppiness. He could come off as a know-it-all, but that was passion talking, Shelley said. “The same things that made him a jerk made him excellent at what he did,” she said.

“This disorder has one of the biggest stigmas because it can really tick people off,” Gregory said. “That’s one reason it’s under-diagnosed.”

“People with BPD usually lose their jobs. It’s rare that they can function well over a long period of time. Eventually it catches up with them, either the drinking or the irritability. No one may understand that they have a treatable disorder; they think it’s just misbehavior. It’s more common to get fired rather than be told to go to treatment. In general, mental illness is seen as a character weakness rather than something that requires treatment.”

He couldn't hide his substance abuse problem

Ulanowski hid his disorder, but he couldn’t hide his substance abuse problem.

In March 2004, he was arrested for DWI and marijuana possession.

He pleaded guilty to driving while ability impaired and a traffic charge. He paid a $500 fine and lost his license for 90 days. Privately, Ulanowski was “really fighting” his illness, Cavalier said. Colleagues noticed he got tipsy early when they met for drinks. He began to show up at award dinners “already buzzed,” a friend said.

His many achievements made it easier for him to deny, and others to overlook, the extent of his problems — until his second brush with the law on Aug. 5, 2009.

After a night of drinking in Fulton, a woman he knew offered him a ride home. On the way, a Fulton police officer pulled her over for erratic driving. A search of her car revealed a pipe and small bag of marijuana under the passenger seat. The woman was charged with DWI, and Ulanowski was charged with marijuana possession.

Ulanowski told his bosses about his arrest. A few days later, a local radio website, CNYRadio.com ran a story titled, "Drug Charge for WRVO News Director."

In a few weeks, the charge was dismissed and Ulanowski’s arrest record sealed. But by then the damage was done.

Ulanowski was fired Sept. 8 with a letter that said, “Dear Chris, This letter will serve to inform you that your services are no longer needed as the News Director at WRVO.”

Ulanowski was floored, his family said. He spent the next few weeks in shock. He quit drinking cold turkey, but being sober with too much time on his hands didn’t help, his daughters said. His chances of finding a job that paid more than his unemployment were slim, especially in a recession, but he dearly missed working.

He called Barrie Gewanter of the NYCLU and asked to volunteer. “He was fairly frank with me, that he had personal problems and this was a transition, and he said he was thinking about becoming a paralegal,” she said.

For a few months, Ulanowski volunteered weekly and Gewanter trained him in legal casework. But she soon realized “it was not about becoming a paralegal,” she said. “It was about putting his skills to use and being able to come to a place where he felt useful and valued.”

Without his WRVO job, he felt worthless

For 27 years, Ulanowski had such a place at WRVO, and without it, he felt worthless, Gewanter said. He told her he believed the station jumped at the chance to fire him because of his high salary and mental health problems.

At Gewanter’s suggestion, Ulanowski tried to challenge his firing. He filed a discrimination complaint with the state Division of Human Rights claiming he was fired due to his age and disability.

In October 2010, the state ruled Ulanowski had no case. His family said Ulanowski then embraced the belief that he was fatally flawed and didn’t deserve another chance. “He became convinced he was totally rotten and had blown his life,” Shelley said.

His doctors prescribed medication to fight depression and, later, psychosis, but none worked, Shelley said.

Gregory said that, too, is typical of BPD. The disorder is resistant to medications that help with depression, bi-polar and other mental illness. Gregory said the only treatments proven to help BPD patients involve a combination of intensive behavior therapy and psychotherapy.

These treatments require a year or two of intensive work on the patient’s part — which gets expensive. Gregory said BPD treatment is not usually covered by insurance because it’s labeled a personality disorder rather than a mental disorder.

“This is an outdated concept,” Gregory said, “since we know that this disorder does change over time and it can be treated.”

After his firing, Ulanowski did try dialectical behavior therapy, but couldn’t pay for it regularly. Shelley said some visits were covered, but not enough, and then his insurance ran out.

In early 2011, they decided their only choice was for Chris to apply for Social Security Disability Insurance, which meant admitting he was too sick to work.

“We were hoping if he went on disability, he could eventually get all the medical treatment he would need to finally be able to live a normal, un-tormented life,” Shelley said.

On May 17, a judge approved Chris’ SSDI, ruling he was mentally disabled and unable to work. That should have been good news financially, but to Chris, it was “the death blow,” Shelley said. “It just deflated him,” she said.

Although approved for SSDI, he then had a nine-month wait for Medicaid coverage. He couldn’t afford treatment or hospitalization.

In hindsight, family sees suicidal signs

With hindsight, his family sees the signs that Ulanowski planned to end his life. For weeks before, he contacted his daughters every day, repeatedly apologizing for being a bad father.

“Every day is another reminder of how I let the family down,” he wrote in an email to Lindsey.

He also talked about death, but Shelley thought that was because her mother had just bought cemetery plots for all her children and their spouses.

So last spring, Shelley and Chris picked out a plot in a local cemetery and a shared headstone. Shelley wanted a star on her side, while Chris wanted a symbol of the Grateful Dead. That’s how he ended up with a dancing bear over his grave.

Her mom paid for their plot on Friday, May 27, and Chris killed himself two days later.

He had been having trouble sleeping and took to the living room couch to prevent disturbing Shelley. That Sunday night he told her he would sleep downstairs and to take the dog up with her. Sometime after midnight, he went out to the barn, climbed up on an old tractor, looped a cord around a beam and tightened it around his neck. Then he stepped off.

He left behind many friends and colleagues who wonder what they could have done to help. Barrie Gewanter called his story “a cautionary tale for employers” dealing with a long-term employee experiencing serious problems.

“Chris was a soul in torment who had been rocked to the base of his soul by being fired,” Gewanter said. “To some, it might have been just a job. To Chris, it was fundamental to who he was as a person.”

In June, state Sens. John DeFrancisco and Patty Ritchie co-sponsored a resolution honoring him.

His family received a copy of the resolution in the mail last summer. It prompted Lindsey to call WRVO and ask for her dad’s awards. The station said she could pick them up. When she unpacked the boxes, there were 65 of them.

» Read tributes from former co-workers and listeners of Chris Ulanowski

For more information on borderline personality disorder, contact the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill of Syracuse at namisyracuse.org or 487-2085.