A horse awaits

Good evening, 919 Gang. Kind of a short report tonight, but, for once, I am not complaining. I'm hoping to get a bit of extra sleep tonight because tomorrow we head off for the ranch vacation I wrote about earlier. That means this is the last 919 Report for a while. We plan to return Saturday, June 13, and I will plan to file that night. That, of course, depends on you. If you don't write, I will have nothing to report.

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REBER: I mentioned last night the T.R. Reinman has been unable to get messages to me. That prompted Peter Koeleman to inquire about some messages he sent. I also did not receive those. T.R. was able to contact me by using my alternate address (jackjreber@yahoo.com), and others should do so if I don't respond to your messages.

T.R. REINMAN writes: Jack Reber getting to live his dream again in the morning reminded me of my first day as a cowboy on a ranch in New Mexico . It was early in February, 1981, the coldest date on record in that region. It was also the first day I would be on a horse. I was wearing brand new duds purchased in a downtown San Diego western shop two days earlier. Shivering in board-stiff denim and not enough else – who knew it got so cold in New Mexico? – I was hailed by the foreman to join him in selecting my mount for the day. We jumped through a gap in 53 unhappy horses swirling around a corral. Hollis, pointing, said, “Ya see that horse?” I, seeing 53 chestnuts, weakly said, “Uh, yeah?” Hollis, spitting tobacco, said, “Well here’s yer rope and there’s yer horse,” and jumped back to the edge of the corral. I stood in there for a couple of minutes being the new guy, trying to figure out which end of the rope was which while getting covered in horse dust and dung, before I was rescued and began living my dream for what remain nearly six of the very best months of my life. Jack, I hope you have the time of your life right in front of you all over again.

REBER: Thank you, T.R. We have been going to this ranch for 20 years, but this time we are taking the three grandkids and their parents. I figure that should make the trip memorable. Speaking of the ranch, I printed the web address a few nights ago. It's worth looking at for the photos. The scenery is spectacular. Steve Stibbens reported that the link didn't work for him because his Internet provider reported it contained malware. I talked to the ranch folks by phone today, and they confirmed that their web site had been hacked and corrupted. They reported the problem has been solved, although it may be a day or two before Google and other search engines catch up to that. So try again, if just for the photos.

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REBER: The Press Room, the bar that was located across the street from the paper when the U-T was downtown, has been a great topic, and tonight we have more good stories.

JACK GREGG writes:

I have many, many memories of the good old Press Room, being at least among the top 10 newspaper lushes. One of the best yuks created there was Mel Zikes' response to a Dick Houska slur aimed his way. Mel stared down the bar at Dick and said, "Houska, when you take off your glasses, does the nose come off too?" Of course, one had to know Houska and his unusual nose to get a full brunt of the joke.

Then there was the time Gen. Brute Krulak came in and sat down next to Trib copy editor David George Molina. Krulak was on a scouting trip for what comes later. Anyway, Daveed sets down his beer, leans toward Krulak and says "My heneral, I"m not escared of you!" To know David George was to love him. He once decided to run for president, and his motto was to be, "Una Molina en cada cocina!" Frank Saldana can translate.

But my best moment was when Neil Morgan drove up to the Press Room, let his wife Julie and Jim Copley debark and then drove off to a parking space. Julie and Jim entered, sat down beside me and Jim said, "Jack, would you believe this is the first time I've been in the Press Room?" "Sir," I replied (I always called him sir). "Would you believe it's the first time for me as well?" His answer --"No, I wouldn't."

REBER: That is a terrific story, Jack. Mention of Molina reminds me that one time many, many years ago, I received a phone call at home from a nun in New Mexico, asking about him. I don't know how or why she got my name; he never worked for me and a I barely knew him. But she said she was worried about him, a former student of hers. I thought it was an amazing phone call because Molina was two or three decades past his elementary school experience by that time. I think she knew something about him that I didn't, and I didn't pry.

LARRY THOMAS writes:

I first visited the Press Club at age 19, a "guest" of former State Sen. and Superior Court Judge Hugo Fisher. I was a part-time writer for Peter Kaye at KPBS-TV while attending SDSU and studying journalism. A couple of us had gone to a PSA charity press party at the Kona Kai Club. Hugo was honorary chair of the charity, and he suggested a "final, final" at the Press Club. With typical high style and bravado, he walked in to the packed bar and greeted his many friends in the media, and introduced me to the proprietor, Bill Pearson. We ended up closing the place with a small gaggle of the brethren.

Two years later on my 21st birthday (August 13), I was working summer relief at UPI and the Russians invaded Czechoslovakia, tying up all the wires. I went across the street and asked Bill to buy me a 21st birthday drink -- after two years of hanging there illegally on the strength of Hugo's introduction. He was not pleased about the deception. Many fond memories of the place, but the most memorable: I ran into Gene Gregston, recently installed as editor of The Union, and he suggested I interview to be a political writer for the paper. Charlie Ross had just been named City Editor, leaving a political writing spot open. Gene made it happen on the strength of the foundation laid by Peter Kaye. It marked a significant buildup of political writing talent at the Union, including several (919) Gangsters. BTW, most stories will no doubt focus on afternoons, evenings and late nights there. For those of us with early shifts (mine started at 5 a.m. at UPI), the pastrami sandwich and beer breakfast around 9 a.m. had a small but dedicated following.

REBER: Thanks, Larry, and you remind me of the Kris Kristofferson lyrics "and the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad so I had one more for dessert."

JERRY WINDLE writes:

I was NOT a regular at the Press Room. I did partake in a pool tournament once amongst the photogs but that was held somewhere else. I'm not a big fan of bars. Anyway, I do have a vivid memory of when I first started at the U-T. The late Dan Tichonchuk (The Eskimo) was shift supervisor and unbeknownst to me, would stop by the Press Room when he left the building in the afternoon. One day his wife, Cookie, called and asked for him. I replied, "Gee, he left an hour ago!" I was resoundly chastised by the photogs on hand NEVER to divulge that Dan had already left and simply tell her you didn't know. Guess she did not like him stopping by the Press Room on his way home. I do recall Trib editors returning after lunch a few sheets to the wind after the paper had been put to bed, as it were.

REBER: I only met Cookie one time. Dan and I were in the bus station downtown, waiting for a ride to Fort Ord to start basic training. I felt sorry for myself at being drafted, but that long tearful goodbye as Dan and Cookie clung to each other made me forget my problem. Dan was a class person.

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BILL HARTLEY writes:

Here's a photo for you. I don't have any of myself alone, just this of me with my wife, Heather. This was taken on Hainan Island, China, last December. We were there for a friend's wedding. Hainan is that piece of fruit that hangs off a peninsula in South China, looking as though it is ready to drop off; the island is right in the Gulf of Tonkin just a short hop in a fighter-bomber to Hanoi. Use what you want of it. What, by the way, is the web address of the directory? I'm sure you've put it out before, but I don't remember it.

REBER: Thank you, Bill. This is an excellent photo and does double duty. The full shot appears here, and I will crop it to make a mug shot of you for the 919 Gang directory. Hey, folks, follow Bill's example and give me a photo -- soon. The directory is not on the Internet, Bill. I distribute it by e-mail twice a year. The next one will be out by the end of June.

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REBER: Thanks to members who are reporting on their birthdays. I hope to have a list covering everyone in the 919 Gang. Because I am taking time off, we'll wish happy birthday tonight to a bunch of members.

05 June Bob Pincus

06 June Jack Reber (D-Day, how could I forget?)

09 June Fred Gates and John McPeek

10 June Grace-Marie Turner

13 June Bill Suda and Gene Ciechanowski

MIKE SUND writes:

My birthday is Sept. 2 (VJ Day), which I share with sports legends Lennox Lewis, Jimmy Connors and Terry Bradshaw, among others.

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DAVID FARMER writes:

John Sweeney mentioned that he shares a birthday with the Emperor Claudius. I shared something with Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, and it was a lot more recent than 13 October 54, AD (date of his death). It happened this way:

In about 1977, my wife and I had gone to the half-price Broadway tickets booth in Times Square and scored house seats for Lena Horne in concert that same day. House seats, for those few who don't know, are the ones the house holds back for VIPs. If no celebrity takes them, they go on sale and some lucky schnook gets to sit near the stage at half-price.

At the intermission, the lights came up, we stood up, and most people headed for the refreshments or rest rooms. The guy next to me also stood up, and I realized that it was Derek Jacobi, who the year before had starred in that fantastic TV series, "I, Claudius." I told him how blown-away I'd been by his work. Claudius, I mean Derek, was pleasant but not effusive, as I've found with many stars who'd just rather be left alone. The real Claudius probably would have had me drawn and quartered, an activity that, if you know what it means, is decidedly ugly.

One of Derek's co-stars in Claudius, John Hurt, suffered a horrendous accident two years later. While he was flying in a space ship with Ripley and some others, an alien life form suddenly burst out of his chest cavity, saliva dripping from its pointy teeth. John was fatally hurt.

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REBER: Another topic that is paying off with good stories is "how I got started in journalism."

CAROL SOTTILI writes:

I definitely went through the back door. I had graduated from high school a year early (because I was a slacker, not because I was an overachiever), and, at age 17 with no job and no prospects, I was living at my parents' home at loose ends. My dad, Tony Gulotta, a printer at Newsday, arranged an interview for me at Newsday as a copy aide. I had no intentions of going to it, as I did not want to work in an office. The day before the interview, my dad had a massive heart attack. I went to the hospital, and through the tubes and beeping machines, he croaked, "Go for the interview." I did, I got the job, went back to college, got a summer internship with Newsday as a reporter (where I was stupid enough to volunteer to cover the Son of Sam with a male reporter, but that's another story), was hired by Don Forst at the LA Herald Examiner, went on to the San Diego Union (after a long martini-infused lunch with J.D. Alexander, but that's another story), and then talked my way into The Washington Post (after following Ben Bradlee's advice, but that's another story). And oh, by the way, my dad survived and lived another 27 years before passing away in 2001.

REBER: Good story, Carol, and you mention three others that also sound worthwhile. Care to tell them?

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DICK HARRINGTON writes:

Hi Jack, an interesting story from the new online news outlet San Diego News Network.

Former SignOnSanDiego head Chris Jennewein joins SDNN as president

San Diego News Network, the source for hyper-local breaking news, sports, events, lifestyle and entertainment information, announced today that former SignOnSanDiego head Chris Jennewein has joined the company as its President.

He holds two decades of journalism experience, and transformed the San Diego newspaper’s web site into a profitable, multi-million-dollar division during his 7-year tenure that ended in 2008.

“I’m excited to be joining this trend-setting company that will create the model for how local news is covered and distributed in the future,” said Jennewein. “San Diego News Network’s combination of dedicated journalists, committed partners and custom technology puts it in a unique position to provide local readers with simply the best interactive experience. The potential is virtually unlimited, and I’m looking forward to being a part of it!”

The news comes on the heels of the media outlet exceeding its internal projections for page views - now at more than 350,000 per month - as well as advertising revenues. SDNN’s executives cite numerous factors that account for the exponential growth in such a short period of time, including its full-time news staff, an extensive list of key media partners and award winning contributing editors who cover different aspects and perspectives throughout San Diego.

“We’re extremely proud of this team and what we’ve been able to achieve in just a short period of time; most of all that San Diegans can truly engage in meaningful conversations about things that matter where they live, work and play,” said Neil Senturia, CEO of SDNN. “Chris is going to play a vital role in continuing our rapid growth, and we’re ecstatic to have him here!”

For the past year, Jennewein was the Senior Vice President and Publisher of Greenspun Interactive, where he built the advertising, marketing and general business foundations for LasVegasSun.com and LasVegasWeekly.com. Revenue for the sites grew at double-digit rates within the last year for the organization under his watch despite the deep recession affecting Las Vegas. Web site traffic to the site also tripled in less than a year to nearly 12 million monthly page views.

http://www.sdnn.com/sandiego/2009-06-03/business-real-estate/former-signonsandiego-head-chris-jennewein-joins-sdnn-as-president

REBER: This glowing account reads more like a press release than a news story, but it's still good news as far as I am concerned. Jennewein, in my opinion, was a very positive force when he was the honcho at the U-T's web site, signonsandiego.com. And, I wonder why SDNN's story didn't include a reference to his U-T background.

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MIKE SUND writes:

Maybe you've already seen this email message from another source. I guess I'm on their mailing list because Platinum has approached our company, Maxwell Technologies, about buying one of our business units.

http://www.thinkmktg.com/clients/PE-newsletter/platinum_may_03.htm

REBER: Thanks, Mike. I didn't see any news in this report, but it is interesting to see what Platinum is telling the world about its purchase of the U-T.

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T.R. Reinman writes:

RE: Lucky Strikes. The Estimable Jimmy Thornton paints an idyllic picture of his early life in Texas: peddling papers; longing for, as I recall, a certain brown-haired girl in class; the guiding hand of a concerned lady teacher; making wishes on discarded Lucky Strike packs. Mine was eerily similar a World War and a Conflict later in Syracuse, except for the last part. If one of us saw a Lucky Strike pack he had to step on it, roundhouse punch the first guy within reach and shout, “Lucky Strike, no payback!” before it was done to him. There was one summer there when Pat Canning carried around an old pack, waiting for one of us to be staring at our own brown-haired girl so he could drop it and get the drop on us. To quote, “It was swell, I tell ya, swell.”

REBER: I loved that one, T.R. My son, the policeman, tells about an activity popular with some youngsters, including the girls, today. You come face to face with a person, and you say (in a belligerent tone), "What are you looking at?" The other person, intimidated, says, "Nothing." And then you slug this person for "insulting" you.

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DAVID FARMER writes:

I just now used the word "onpass" in an e-mail to my wife. Our e-mail situation, btw, is slightly weird. Her office is in our house, mine in a converted garage about 20 feet behind the house. Most of the day we're exchanging messages as if we were on different continents. I suspect that this is not unique among couples. But back to the point:

So I use the word onpass, and it strikes her as odd. To me, it's been completely normal since I worked for The AP in the early 60s. But though Hinda reported for several small papers, she was never a wire-service gal. Thus she's not familiar with what used to be called "cablese," the hyper-compression that sprang up in the days when telegraph and cable companies charged by the word.

Even though onpass is not very compressed, it still counted as one word instead of two. Wire service writers, and probably the newspaperfolk who communicated with them, carried on this compression, no doubt to this day. Two highly condensed phrases, POTUS and SCOTUS, have virtually entered the language.

REBER: And then there were those of us who worked as stringers, being paid by the inch. We never compressed anything.

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DON FREEMAN writes:
Should we have two National Anthems? "The Star Spangled Banner" is a stirring instrumental but it is a challenge even for professional singers. Nat "King" Cole once warned his fellow singers about the perils of singing the Anthem. Robert Goulet had his troubles with the Anthem.
PS. Jack, you ask why I would say "Little Bobby Laurence"? The reason is simple. I just had the notion that we may grow older and get bigger. We were all kids at heart. And I believe we still are.

REBER: And certainly no one had more problems with the National Anthem than Roseanne Barr. Don's question makes me wonder: Do Canadians sing their national anthem twice -- once in English and once in French? Seems the Canadians try to be bilingual in everything else.

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REBER: This is in response to a David Farmer message of last night.

DAVID GADDIS SMITH writes:

If David Farmer has only 7,000 miles on his Prius in three years he'll never make up the added premium for having a green car. (Although, like my three sisters with Priuses, he can know his and their hearts are in the right place.)

REBER: You make a good point, and if Mary were reading your message, she would unload one of her pet peeves. It seems people who do not cut back on their water usage are going to be penalized during the current shortage. We cut back years ago. We are very thrifty with water. And we don't use any city water for irrigation (although I just paid $400 for repairs on my well). It does see unfair that people who have been conscientious all along now will be paying premium prices while those who were wasteful can avoid those premiums by cleaning up their act.

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JERRY RIFE writes:

Chalk up another Copley Career for Frank Holowach, SDSU facilty member and UT copy editor.

Jim Box and I were working together on the Daily Aztec when Frank told Jim about an opening for a copy boy at the Union. At about the same time, Frank told me about an opening for a wirephoto operator in the UT’s photo lab.

Jim and I dashed happily into the bosom of the Copley Family where we spent our careers.

Like Jim, I too left an existing job where I was making more money than the UT was paying. I was making $1.90 an hour driving a truck, and an extra $90 a week mopping the floors and cleaning the toilets after the other drivers left for the day.

Over the years, my association with Frank continued when he filled in as photo editor. He was a gentle soul.

Thanks, Frank.

REBER: Frank Holowach passed away May 28.

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REBER: Rex Salmon, intrepid photographer, sent some photos taken at Terri Spilecki's quarterly luncheon at the Long Horn Cafe Wednesday.

REX SALMON says:

Sorry it took so long. I’ve been knee-deep in some commercial graphics. It pays and you don’t, so my big nose follows the money.

From left, T.R. Reinman, Terri Spilecki, Preston Turegano, Suzanne Mack.

Laura Wolfe and Lynne Durkee

Patricia Dibsie and one of the assistance dogs she is training.

Jack Reber and Laura Wolfe. Rex had to shoot this several times. Jack kept insisting on do-overs.

From left, Floyd Thomas and Sharon and Carl Larsen.

Jack Gregg, left, and Rex Salmon

From left, Frank Saldana, Bill Monahan and Denise Romero.

REBER: That's all, folks. See you on June 13.

Jack Justus Reber

P.O. Box 2239

Ramona, Calif. 92065

USA

High times at the Press Room

Good evening, 919 Gang. And what I call a good evening is when we add more members and have a lot of really interesting stories. All that is true tonight.

KATE NELSON writes:

Warisa Chulindra, another news copy editor caught by the layoffs, would like to join the gang.

JEFF RISTINE writes:

Michael Stetz, who writes the well-read city column, is impressed enough with the information I've passed along to him from the 919 Gang report to want to get it firsthand.

Mike's been at the UT in various capacities since October 1997.

REBER: Thanks, Kate and Jeff, for the recruiting work, and welcome to Warisa and Michael. I've asked each of you some specific questions, and I hope to hear from you soon. A couple of nights ago I set 400 as a membership goal. We are now at 372, and I suspect it is a bit higher than that because I believe there are some members with spouses who are also eligible. I never ask that question, however. I've been gone from the U-T almost five years, and I know that marriage sometimes is not a permanent condition. So, if there is a second person in your household eligible for membership, please let me know, and I will include that person in the 919 Gang directory.

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REBER: I was happy to see T.R. Reinman at Terri Spilecki's quarterly gathering today, but disappointed to learn that T.R. has sent three messages which I have not received. I wish e-mail were as reliable as postal mail, but I know from experience it is not. It is extremely rare that I reject a submission, and if I do I will always reply and tell you why. If anyone else is having trouble getting through to me, my alternate e-mail is jackjreber@yahoo.com.

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BARBARA MOSS writes:

Please.....more stories about the Press Room bar. What fun you all must have had!

REBER: Okay, Barbara, we have more, and it is good stuff. Read on.

RICK SMITH writes:

Someone correct me if I'm wrong. The Press Room originally was called the Theater Buffet. You actually could access the Spreckels Theater from there, and theater-goers could duck into the Theater Buffet during show intermissions. Dobson made use of the balcony at the end of the bar facing the theater. There also were entrances and exits on First and Second Avenues for the Spreckels stage, across which Clydesdales were known to march on occasion. I spent many debaucherous evenings there, most of the time watching others practice debauchery.

I'll always remember a Mel Zikes tale. He covered a 1956 CIF basketball playoff, San Diego Hoover at Redondo. This during the days of Highway 101. Redondo Beach, where the game was played, was about 3 to 3 1/2 hours away. The trip would go through every town from here to Oceanside, then up past Camp Pendleton into Orange County on to the traffic circle in Long Beach, etc. It took a long time. Highway 101 could be a three-lane death trap when there was fog (or when it was clear), and you had to slow and deal with traffic signals in each community. Zikes said that after Hoover had won the game on a last-second shot he had made it back to the Press Room in less in 2 hours, in time for a late-night rendezvous.

Union sports staffers used to bitch about Exec Sports Editor Warren Wilson spending so much time there boozing with Phil Collier during deadline hours. Chuck Sawyer was left alone one night answering the phones, taking Jai Alai or high school results, phones ringing off the hook. Sawyer finally picked up a phone and threw it across the sports copy desk, then stormed across the street to confront Wilson. "You left your post," Wilson calmly advised Sawyer.

REBER: And Harry Hache advised me that Mel's rendezvous were always with PSA stewardesses.

JOE BROWN writes:

A comment by Bob Weaver this morning prompts this reprise on my memories of the Press Room. Bob remembered the photo of columnist Walter Winchell in that old saloon. I remember chatting with Winchell himself at the Press Room one night and he asked me to recommend a night club act in San Diego he might attend. I suggested a musical duo named Deedie and Bill who had impressed me with their performance aboard the Bahia Belle in Mission Bay. (One played the clarinet, the other sang, with a lot of Dixieland. Great stuff.) Winchell was as impressed and included a one-line laudatory mention of them in his famous daily dot-dash column. I learned later that on the strength of WW's brief mention, Deedie and Bill had offers to perform from literally dozens of clubs around the country and Canada. That's when I came to appreciate the power of Winchell. I might also mention that when Winchell visited the Press Room, which he did every year on his annual visit to San Diego, if he spotted any U-T staffers who appeared too tipsy to drive home, he'd rent them a room for the night at the U.S. Grant Hotel out of his own pocket. Even now, I can hear Winchell on his radio broadcast with his famous opening greeting of "Good evening Mr. and Mrs. North America and all the ships at sea. Let's go to press..."

THANE McINTOSH writes:

Tom Bishop, who was a Union GA reporter, took me in hand soon after I returned to the paper from the Army in 1960. Tom was an experienced newsman and taught me a lot over the years. The first thing he taught me was where to go for a quick drink, "across the street" to the Pressroom.

My future wife Judy was teaching at an elementary school in Imperial when I met her. She and her girlfriend would drive to San Diego on Friday night, and we would hang out over the weekend. Anyway when I worked late Judy would wait for me at the Pressroom bar until I got off. She had a canary named McDuff, and she would bring it with her in a tiny cage. She would set the cage up on the bar while the drinking business went on around them. McDuff would occasionally chirp and add to the very cosmopolitan atmosphere of the joint.

I loved the reverse clock on the wall that when you looked at it across the bar it would be right. Also that's the first place I saw the sign that said "Work is the curse of the drinking man." And John Godwin's explosive pool break that sent a cue ball rolling out the door, across the sidewalk and onto Second Ave. Also all the great old photographs on the walls.

I remember one night someone suggested that we get some white paint and paint a crosswalk from the UT to the bar so nobody would get arrested for jaywalking (or maybe jaystaggering). Never happened but makes a nice memory of the old Press Room.

JOHN SWEENEY writes:

My best memory of the Press Room was the large bartender, an outwardly crusty but inwardly gentle giant of man named John, with a thick (Polish?) accent. I had just come back from a vacation in Basque country along the 395 corridor between Bishop, Calif., and Gardnerville, Nev. It was in Nevada that I had been introduced to a drink called a Picon Punch. The first time I was in the Press Room after my return, I asked John if he could make one. "Oh, no", he bellowed while grabbing the appropriate bottles, "That's called a Basco Benny"! I'm sure that would be considered improper these days. Best BB's I ever had, and I recall his recipe to this day.

Here's a variation on the chicken or egg theme: What came first? The Press Room or the Press?

REBER: All great stories. Keep them coming, folks. I'll bet there are more stories to come.

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REBER: From your messages and the extensive resources of Ramona's Reber Memorial Library and Home for Unwed Gophers, I have put together a fairly extensive list of birthdays for 919ers. Please tell us your birthday (we don't need to know the year). And if there's a story that goes along with it, so much the better.

ROGER SHOWLEY writes:

Roger birthday: 4-8-48 -- I include my year because of the coincidence of the numerals and my parents' home phone number in Point Loma, 222-8484; I've used those four digits in every other phone I've had over the years, so it's (858) 695-8484, and my brother, still living in PL, has 224-8484. I might add that among the luminaries who share my birthday are Kofi Annan, Betty Ford, Darlene Gillespie (the

Mouseketeer) and singer Julian Lennon. Ever since I've thought numerical relationships are fun to play with. So I was sorry when my son Charlie was born on 10/29/1990. That followed a 32-hour labor, but I was hoping it would have stretched another 12 hours and then he would have been born on 10-30-90 -- a nice mathematical progression. I say all this because journalists are notoriously bad with math and have to be extremely careful when doing calculations. So often the copy desk spots goofs, but in these downsized times, I fear that simple doublechecks will fall by the wayside and we'll report millions when we mean billions. That's not as bad as the really dumb mistake of confusing inches and centimeters on that Mars probe some years ago and leading to an expensive crash landing.

JOHN SWEENEY writes:

Thanks to Jimmy Thornton (a.k.a. Jimmy the Ace) for sharing his personal tragedy on his birthday in 1969 and then blasting off about it. My TV remained off the rest of the evening. Do I recall that a composing room person was caught dropping the occasional f-bomb into a story or two just after the move to the Valley?

My birthday is August 1. I share this feat with the likes of Richard Henry Dana and Herman Melville (possibly explaining my love of the ocean), Francis Scott Key, Jerry Garcia, the recently deceased Dom DeLuise and my fave, the Emperor Claudius.

DON KOHLBAUER writes:

I had a coworker at the UT who shared my birthday. R.J. Ignelzi (Bobbie).

But I had the enjoyment of meeting my twin brother from another mother.

He was the headliner at our San Diego Blues Fest one year.

Robert Cray and I share the same birth date, August 1, 1953. He thought it was cool.

Our two older brothers born on August 1 but in different years are both gone now. Jerry Garcia and Dom DeLuise.

REBER: And now you know you have another Aug. 1 associate in John Sweeney.

PAULINE REPARD writes:

Sorry, Jack, that I have been a voyeur rather than a participant of late with this fine collection of storytellers.

My thanks to all of you who have been sharing job leads, personal experiences with health care plans, interviews, retirement planning and industry observations. You are all generous and helpful.

Some of you will know I am one of the nearly 200 to get a layoff notice on May 7, or in subsequent days, at the U-T. My last day is Friday, with my final shift of 4:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m., at the cop shop.

My first day was April 12, 1988, on a temp job filling in for Mary Curran-Downey, who was on maternity leave. Needless to say, I stayed a bit longer.

I'm looking back with sadness at leaving the one thing I wanted to do since high school, work for a metro paper; some relief at knowing I am now out of the tension and reportedly low morale current in the newsroom; and curiosity to see what comes next in my life. I hope to find a decent-paying position in an organization with integrity and a mission to serve people in need. (in my mind, newspapers have fit that definition, along with many non-profits -- oh, wait, is that now redundant?)

To some of the recent topics on which we have been encouraged to contribute:

I share my April 29 birthday with Duke Ellington, my cousin Virginia Raker, and, apparently, Sharon Reeves.

I haven't taken a vacation getaway in four years, since a first trip to Europe and seeing a bit of France and Germany and the Republic of Ireland. We also went to London briefly, my fourth tour to that city. I'd return to London any time my bank account directs me there!

REBER: Pauline, I hope you find a job that is both rewarding and fulfilling. By the way, April 29 is a very "popular" birthday among 919ers. In addition to you and Sharon Reeves, there is Bob DiVeroli and Bill Osborne.

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REBER: Sharon Reeves wrote last night about the difficulties of preserving the U-T Library's byline cards and making them more accessible.

WELTON JONES writes:

Thanks, Sharon. Realism, no matter how negative, is usually more useful than dreaming.

Whatever whoever once said about accepting the clip files and the negatives, I'm pretty sure that a home could be found for them now, regardless of volume. There have been some important developments in both resources and attitudes recently, probably since these questions were last discussed. And, while it's really useless for me to expound on technical questions (like how about Xeroxing stuff and then scanning the Xeroxes?), I know there are experts out there willing to address the problem.

So, what about one of my other suggestions: We volunteers gather the files up – all 7,500 of them – and borrow them long enough to do the scanning/copying off-site? That way, no questions of paper stock, access or (for cryin' out loud) liability.

Again, it's a job immensely worth doing. And who knows what might happen to the window of opportunity?

ROGER SHOWLEY writes:

Re the byline cards: There's enough chatter here to propose something.

I think the first step is simply to Xerox the cards, four at a time for the front, and four at a time for the back. The next step would be scan them for OCR treatment sometime. If you are careful about photocopying and get the image as clear as possible, the OCR scan should be pretty clean. Of course, since the cards were originally typed, the actual letters may scan as jibberish -- and that's what will require a huge amount of editing. Still, OCR technology is a lot better than it was just a few years ago. So I'd recommend trying a few cards to see how they do. There is a big payoff for this doing this because the Tribune was never indexed and we'd finally have access for a few years, anyway, to stories that currently are only searchable in the rotting clips.

REBER: I don't know if this idea is going anywhere, but, as Roger says, it couldn't hurt to test. If someone could mail (or e-mail) me a few Xeroxes of cards, I can run OCR software on them and show people the results. The cards are different colors, so a good sample would include at least one of each color. Also, perhaps we could scan some that look pretty clear and some that look pretty weak. But even working with just one of each color might be educational, and I would be happy to do it. There is probably OCR software more powerful than what I have, but it would be a start.

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REBER: Another current topic that continues to produce good reading is about how we got started in the newspaper business.

GLENN GRANT writes:

Here's how I got into journalism, staccato style:

Enjoyed photography class at Granada Hills High in San Fernando Valley. Saved up enough money from my paper routes to buy a 35mm SLR camera. While attending Pierce College in Woodland Hills, saw that the student newspaper needed a photographer. I got the position. The editor asked me to start writing articles to accompany my photos, so I did. Eventually became editor in final semester. Heard about an opening for an editorial assistant at KFWB-M in Hollywood, which had just switched from all rock 'n' roll to the first 24-hour all-news format in Los Angeles. Got that job, which further whetted my appetite for a real job in journalism.

Went on to San Fernando Valley State College (now Cal State U. Northridge) for a B.A. in journalism in '71. Worked on the student paper there as well as interning at some community weeklies. Got hired for a while at the Simi Valley thrice-weekly before applying to the Copley Training Program in L.A. Interviewed first with King Durkee in the lobby of the Beverly Hilton and got accepted. Reported to Charlie Hushaw (anyone remember him?; he died a few years ago), a real character. He fired my friend who was in the program about five months by asking her to come by her office and saying, "Well, I'm sorry but I won't be seeing you again." Thinking he might be retiring, she said, "Why Charlie, are you going somewhere?" He answered, "No, you're not coming back. You're out of the program," which reduced her to tears. Then he said, "By the way, you can finish the story you were working on and drop it off with me before you leave." A real diplomat, that Charlie.

Anyway, I was in the program about three months at various L.A. Copley papers, then got hired at the Glendale News-Press, which was full of veteran scribes who also were characters. It was hot type back then, and I got really good at reading stories upside down and backwards. Got an opportunity to live in San Diego in '73 so moved here for about a year. Actually wrote front-page articles for The Reader, which was just getting started, for $10 each. Then got a great PR offer with friends in L.A. so moved back there. Bounced around Palm Springs and Redding before coming back to San Diego for good in '81.

Met Peter Kaye while working at the ad agency that handled the ballot measure to rename our ballpark back to San Diego Jack Murphy Stadium. The measure passed, and the stadium retained that name until Qualcomm bought it. I needed a job after that, and Peter got me interviews at The San Diego Union with Doug Hope, Diane Bell and Gene "Chick" Ciechanowski, who I ended up working for from '85 until he retired a few years later. I was shown the door when The Union merged with The Tribune and ended up working in PR ever since. However, I was freelance copy editor for San Diego Family Magazine for 10 years, and worked on the copy desk at the Riverside Press-Enterprise on alternate Saturday nights for about three years, just because I liked it and they liked me.

That's my story in a nutshell. I wonder if any Gang members were in the Copley Training Program in L.A. and have any reminiscences worth sharing? I have some but I've blabbed too long here and would like to share them later.

REBER: Well-done, Glenn, and I look forward to you sharing more of those memories. Members: Were any of you in the L.A. version of the training program?

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AL SUND writes:

128 years ago today (June 3, 1881) the very first telephone in San Diego was installed in the office of the San Diego Union according to this morning's Union-Tribune on page B 2.

Present for the formal dedication of the new, hi-tech service were most likely Dorothy Taylor, head of the new PBX dept. , and Rosie Samodi, their first operator.

Somewhere down the road was young upstart Andy Mace (phone company) busy installing the # 2 San Diego phone to provide someone to talk with.

Many years later, when I joined the UT in 1948, there were no dials on company phones, and numbers to call were given operators verbally. The UT phone number was Main 3841 --- the photo lab was extension 16. At this same time two of our camera cars had mobile telephones as supplied by the phone company before our own two-way radio system was installed. A foot-locker size box in the car trunk was full of tubes, wires etc. but it did work !

Progress. Hold the phone. Stop the presses.

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ANNE KRUEGER writes:

Jimmy Thornton's picture of the Burma Shave signs the other day reminded me of the issue I constantly face of using cultural references when I write. A few years ago, I was doing a story about a community near Lakeside where the neighbors didn't want radio towers installed. The planning commission went on a field trip to see the neighborhood, and the residents put up a series of signs along the road. The signs, read together, said something like "We don't want/radio towers/in our neighborhood." When I got back to the office, I was telling my young colleagues about the signs and said they were lined up like Burma Shave signs. They all looked at me blankly, and I realized they had no idea what Burma Shave signs were. Now, I'm not THAT old and there weren't a lot of Burma Shave signs around when I was young, but I did know what they are. But I realized I couldn't use that reference in my story.

I had a second realization about cultural references when I was doing another Lakeside story. I was thrilled that I got to meet and interview Joan Embery, the former ambassador to the San Diego Zoo. She showed me around her ranch, including a study where she keeps all the videos of her appearances on the Johnny Carson show. I got back to the office and said, "I just met Joan Embery!" Blank stares. "You know," I said, "she used to be on the Johnny Carson show all the time." More blank stares. And once again, I felt really, really old.

I guess it goes the other way too. If I made a reference to the Jonas Brothers in a story, I know my 83-year-old mother would have no idea whom I was talking about.

REBER: An excellent point, Anne. If news stories are going to be read by young people, they have to be written with words the younger folks understand. I may have told this story before: A few weeks ago I had the camera out and mentioned I was going to take a movie of something or other the grandkids were doing. "No," said the 8-year-old, "you're going to take a video."

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DAVID FARMER writes:

My brother sent me a list of the 10 most expensive cars in the world. He must have sensed that my 2006 Prius has been piling up the miles until it's reached nearly 7,000 (honest). And lo, one of these costly cars is a brand once (or still) owned by the late and semi-lamented Copley clan.

It's the Maybach, at $430,000 the least expensive vehicle on the list, which tops out at just over $1 million (for one car, not the factory). But even though it's a cheapie, the Maybach boasts 612 horsepower and will putt along at 275 kph. It must have made the trip from La Jolla to Mission Valley in seconds.

And just in case you're looking for some new wheels yourself, other brands on the list are Pagani Zonda, McLaren, Koenigsegg, Saleen, Leblanc Mirabeau, SSC Ultimate Aero, and Bugatti Veyron. Some of them will go more than 400 kph, but you probably have to rent an airfield to really open them up. I have to admit I've heard of only a couple of these brands. Fortunately, being retired I don't have the Copley need for speed from home to office.

REBER: David sent me a slide show showing those expensive cars. I worry that tacking it on to this message will cause problems for some members, so I will send the slide show as a separate message following this one.

1953 Studebaker Commander

1958 Studebaker Silver Hawk

1963 Studebaker Avanti

JOHN PRICE writes:

Dave Farmer's comments about Studebakers pleasantly jarred my fading memory. I always liked the older Studes, barring the Lark and Scotsman and a few other later disasters that I think brought the old company down. While my son was doing his medical residency at Notre Dame, we went to the Studebaker museum. What an amazing place. It was a Studebaker carriage that took Abraham Lincoln to Ford's Theater, and a Studebaker hearse that carried him on his last ride. They have Studebaker cars from the thirties that are simply gorgeous. You can also have lunch in Clem Studebaker's mansion in South Bend. I agree with you, Jack, the Hawks, Gold and Silver, are still stunning cars 50 years later. I owned a 1954 Commander. It was called "The Slick One" in land speed record circles on and around the Bonneville Salt Flats.

They held a number of world speed records, largely because of their incredible aerodynamics. By the time Studebaker got to the Avanti in the middle sixties, they had lost their refined sense of styling and sadly, the venerable company went down trying to sell some pretty awful looking cars.

REBER: There once was a car manufactured by the Reber Motor Company. Sad to say, the brand did not survive long enough to get a government bailout -- not even close.

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REBER: I mentioned that we will be gone next week, vacationing at a ranch west of Bridgeport, Calif.

JOHN SWEENEY writes:

Hope you have a grand time. I know the little burg of Bridgeport quite well. Throughout most of the nineties, I owned a Kenworth dirt and asphalt hauler. One of my great joys was working for Caltrans every summer repaving the various highways all over the region. You haven't lived until you make 6 or 7 trips a day up to the 10- and 11-thousand-foot level in one of those. The hairpin curves on the Sonora Pass were extremely memorable. We usually worked out of the Hunewill plant just below Lee Vining. Most of the guys stayed in Lee Vining, but I preferred June Lake and Bridgeport, depending on where the job was. If we were paving the Twin Lakes Road, for example, I would stay at the Virginia Lakes Motel just north of Bodie Road, so I was out of the shower before the others even got to their rooms. The Sierra have always been my favorite playground. We even honeymooned there. By the way, did you ever do the horse backpack trip out of June Lake? A friend of mine, 6' 10'' "Dink" Getty owned and operated it for many years.

Just in case I ever broke your windshield, now you know where to find me!

REBER: The Hunewill Ranch we are going to is on that Twin Lakes Road, John, five miles west of Bridgeport. Here's a Bridgeport story: It is your typical small town. In the summer there are all sorts of visitors hunting, fishing or camping, but basically this is the center of a ranching area. We used to visit on the week before July 4, and each year we would see the motorcycles pouring in. The bikers filled the campgrounds in the area; residents in town rented spaces for bikers to put tents in their yards. Over and over I was told about what fine people the members of this Harley-Davidson club were. They supported the town; their money had practically built the small hospital. These weren't Hell's Angels, we learned. In fact we were told that most of them were doctors, lawyers and other peace-loving people of high standing. Then came the year when I didn't see any Harleys on the roads or in town, and I asked why. Turns out the year before, a couple of the Harley ladies had strolled down Main Street wearing nothing but chaps. The town of Bridgeport told the bikers they were not welcome to come back.

Jack Justus Reber

P.O. Box 2239

Ramona, Calif. 92065

USA

Everything old is new again (except me)

Good evening, 919 Gang. I talk (Rex Salmon says I crow) about the 919 Gang hitting 370 members, but sometimes I wonder: How many are actually receiving these messages? Elson Irwin wrote today that he hasn't had a message since Saturday. Julie Pendray wrote that she hasn't received one in months. I've asked Terri Spilecki to forward to Elson a message I wrote that has some suggestions. Julie says she may have solved her problem. She found a very, very old message from me and used her e-mail software to mark that I was a "safe sender." I hope that works. Unless I alert you that I will be out of town, you should receive a message every single night. If you don't please holler.



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REBER: Julie Pendray also reported that " sdnn.com had to let me go as their freelance contributing editor for the north," and she sent a couple of job postings.



JULIE PENDRAY writes:

MANAGING/​SENIOR EDITOR

Daily Dose Media seeks a Managing/​Senior Editor to oversee the launch, production and content, of our website and daily newsletter for the Yoga and Pilates industry.​ Daily Dose Media is an exciting and new online niche media company that provides free and subscription-based content to specialty industries.​ Our first newsletter and website will cover the business of Yoga and Pilates.​ Readers include Yoga and Pilates professionals, studio owners, and suppliers.​ The candidate must be a seasoned editor and manager, with strong writing and editorial skills, experience with online media, and experience within the Yoga and Pilates industries.​

Tasks to Include:

-Managing freelance writers by assigning and generating a constant flow of interesting and unique content

-Contribute to and edit content

-Collaborate with publisher and production team to create and meet projections, deadlines and manage budgets

-Monitor trends and hot-topics that will enhance the site and user community

-Oversee day-to-day site production tasks and forums

-Manage your own schedule while meeting short-term and long term deadlines

This is a full-time staff position with tremendous growth potential.​ If you are a self-starter who likes flexibility, and the opportunity to be a part of something new and exciting, then this job is for you.​ You must be a creative thinker with the ability to monitor and identify ways to optimize traffic, subscriptions and fresh content.​



This position will enable you the flexibility to work from your home office.​ However, you must be based in Southern California and available to meet regularly in our offices in the San Diego area.​

The Candidate:

-Must have 5+​ years experience as managing/​senior editor with at least 2 years experience with online media/​content

-Background in Yoga and Pilates and a strong understanding of small business topics and needs

-Bachelor Degree or higher in English or Journalism

-Located in Southern California

-A strong interest in target audience

To Apply: Please submit a cover letter addressing our requirements and how you meet them, a resume, and desired compensation to publisher@​dailydosemedia.​com



JULIE PENDRAY writes:

U.S. Navy listing on Monster.com:



NOW HIRING: ARTS AND PHOTOGRAPHY PROFESSIONALS

Capturing images and events. Writing stories and profiles. Honing technical production skills. Going behind the scenes to educate military personnel and the public about activities and accomplishments that go on every day in the Navy. Creative professionals in the Navy Reserve have the chance to see the world from an exciting new perspective — and the opportunity to gain experience that extends far beyond the moment.
Serving as a Mass Communications Specialist, you can contribute your talents in many impactful ways. You might film an aerial exhibition put on by the Blue Angels. Chronicle the exploits of Sailors returning from a humanitarian mission abroad. Create graphics for a high-profile presentation or create layouts for a nationally distributed Navy magazine. If you have interest or experience in photography, writing, illustration or design, the possibilities are endless.

(APPLICANTS CAN'T BE OLDER THAN 40)

As part of your responsibilities, you could also do any of the following:

* Operate state-of-the-art photography and video equipment for the Navy
* Scan/edit digital, still and video images and use lab equipment for film/print production
* Prepare illustrations, original art, technical drawings, graphics and audiovisual materials
* Utilize personal computer/desktop publishing systems to design various communications

Set type, make plates for printing and operate printing presses



REBER: Thank you, Julie. We have a lot of members seeking work, so job tips are always welcome, although that 40 age limit may reduce the field a bit.



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REBER: Speaking of jobs and changing professions after journalism, Ellen Bevier sent this link which you might want to check out. Even if you're not job-seeking, this is an interesting story about a very successful journalist who found his talents were valued in other places as well.



ELLEN BEVIER writes:

This is a March 20 New York Times column that maybe someone else has already noted and brought to your attention. If so forgive me as I do get out of the loop at times. I thought it was interesting and of course it has a Copley link.

FASHION & STYLE | March 22, 2009
Generation B: He Has Both Sides Covered
By MICHAEL WINERIP
A baby boomer fulfills a civic responsibility as a local editor and politician.



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REBER: Last night's homework assignment was courtesy of Joe Brown, who suggested we repeat, for the benefit of newer members, some memories of the Press Room, the bar (now Dobson's) that was across the street when the U-T was downtown.



BOB WEAVER writes:

Ah, the Press Room. Memories of the day after the piranha died, electrocuted when a heater wire sent a lethal dose of volts through his water. That day's special: Fish sandwiches. And the Montana martinis, 40-ouncers if memory serves; sipped under the photos of Jimmy Durante and Walter Winchell.

And on those days when the management sent efficiency experts to the newsroom just before budget time the Press Room served another purpose. Photographers and reporters were called to the city desk, handed a slip of paper and sent running, supposedly to cover some breaking story.

They would rush from the newsroom, ride the elevator to street level and slip over to the Press Room for a few minutes before returning to the city room where the reporter would say a few words to the ACE and begin typing furiously while the photog ran to the dark room.

The ploy would be repeated several times an evening, providing the budget inspector with the impression of a really busy newsroom that needed all the bucks Uncle Jim could provide.



BOB LAURENCE writes:

I never was part of the press room gang, but it figures in one of my favorite memories from the 919 building.

Ray Means, a UPI staffer, was on his way out the door. Someone asked where he was going. "The Press Room," said he.

"How long will you be there?"
Ray glanced at his watch, looked up and said matter-of-factly, "About three hours."



JACK GREGG writes:

I didn't get the UT travel section Sunday. Has the new owners dumped it? Alas, remember the days when Neil Morgan fathered the Trib's great travel section with many many ads and color photos and free trips for those in good standing to faraway places with strange sounding names. And, by the way, I remember when Press Room beer was 15 cents and if I sat down with 13 pennies, Harry Hache would reluctantly give me two more.



REBER: Jack, there was a Travel section in my paper, but it's only four pages, and easy to miss. That's true of a lot of U-T sections these days. I'm not surprised it was Hache who gave you two pennies -- he spent a lot of time in the Press Room. Harry visited the Press Room early every afternoon and didn't return until after I had completed my shift. He was my boss, the assistant sports editor, and I was the guy running the desk and laying out the paper each morning. Harry would return from the Press Room and type up instructions for me to follow the next day, orders on what stories to play where and what reports to type up for the managing editor. I knew to pay attention to Harry's instructions because he would rip me apart if I screwed up. Unfortunately, the Press Room experience did not sharpen Harry's typing skills, and his memos were sometimes almost 100% gibberish and typos. Somehow, I muddled through. Harry was serious about his drinking. One day he returned from a doctor's visit. He said the doc had prescribed some new medication and warned Harry that he couldn't drink and take these pills. Harry said he replied, "Well, you'll have to find a different prescription, right?" As knife-like as Harry's tongue could be when he was sober, he was downright friendly when he had been drinking a while. He would call me at home at night. I don't think there was a newspaper reason for the call. He would talk and talk, and then his wife Sandy would get on the phone and yak at me a while. I loved Harry, but dreaded those lengthy phone calls.

Regarding the Press Room, like Bob Laurence, I was not a regular, but I remember I had my first shrimp cocktail there. I thought it was wonderful. Ever since I have been searching for a shrimp cocktail that was as good as that memory. I'm starting to think the beverage I had with the shrimp cocktail may have influenced my taste buds.



------------------------------------------



REBER: In commenting on Joe Brown's idea, I mentioned that we have oodles of members who joined us too late to read some of the great stories about life in the downtown office. Rex Salmon has relayed excerpts from some of those early messages, and you will find them (because of their length) at the end of tonight's report. Stick around until the end. It's well worth it.



REX SALMON writes:

919 Population: 97

Jack, that was your report back on 6/20/06.

Yesterday, you crowed about nearing 400, so this is a nice flashback on advanced camaraderie and senility coming together for a common cause. For comparison, the last report that Jim McVicar sent out on 4/21/06 had 73 names.

Here’s your 2006 report: “The 919 Gang's ranks are growing rapidly, with special thanks to Terry Spilecki and Bill Birch, both of whom came up with lists of names I was missing. I reported 78 members last night and set 100 as a goal. As of today, we are at 97, quite an improvement. So what does an editor do when someone reaches their goal? He sets it higher, of course! You all knew that, right? So, now I am shooting for 125. Spilecki says she has more names for me, and maybe you can think of others or recruit them. I think there are probably current U-T employees who would enjoy this list.

Remember, today's whipper-snappers are tomorrow's old fogies.”



Speaking of fogeys – the variant of fogies and fogys which I prefer – we of 919 are the majority. The word used to mean “old, outdated ideas . . .. out of fashion.” You are what you become. In today’s usage, fogey also mopped up words like dodo, fossil, oldster, golden ager, and senior citizen. (I never did like “senior citizen” and they say the only thing golden about golden agers is the color of the stream!)

As long as we breathe, who cares? The only alternative is to not breathe.

Anyway, Jack, thanks for your three years of Sleepless in Ramona as you toil in yonder pasture. I think Mary should get a lot of the credit for putting up with you as you try to herd in the late-night verbiage.



REBER: Thank you, Rex, and Mary gets total credit for almost everything that is right in my life. She is an angel, a nice balance for me.



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REBER: I'm asking members to write and tell me their birthdays so we can sing to them on that day. I asked last night if anyone knew a web site that listed famous birthdays.



DON BRAUNAGEL writes:

Here's one birthday site:

http://www.famousbirthdays.com/



Mine (and Einstein's) is March 14.



MARK MONDAY writes:

Minutes after my mother's birthday -- Sept. 3 -- my mother gave birth to me. The doctor left the date on the birth certificate open for a while. He asked if Mom wanted to fudge the time so we would share the same birthday -- after all it was still the 3rd in Honolulu or Nome. It's just that this all happened in Phoenix and because of that quirk of geography the date had changed. Mom figured I ought to have my own birthday, so Sept. 4 is correctly listed.



IRENE McCORMACK writes:

My birthday is on the same day as Jimmy Thornton’s, and like Jimmy, I felt incredibly proud on July 20, 1969 when the astronauts walked on the moon. It was my 13th birthday, and I was sitting all day in front of the television in the family room of my Connecticut home. My brothers (four of them, all younger) were in and out, and my mom and dad would sit and watch before having to round up the boys. I never moved from the green chair. I watched everything into the wee hours of the next morning. I walked outside to see if I could see the Men on the Moon. Wishful thinking, I know. But a budding teen (that was my 13th birthday), I was hoping for miracles. I still have the New York Times and the Hartford Courant that my Dad got for me. They are yellowed now and falling apart. But I still love looking at those front-page photos that commemorated that historic event.



MICHAEL SCOTT-BLAIR writes:

Is another of those souls who regularly got a single present that said Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, justified by "It cost more than usual." It goes with the territory when your birthday is December 28. Others who have been heard to boast as having the same birthday as I, include Woodrow Wilson, Elizabeth Jordan Carr (the nation's first test tube baby) and Jorge Velasquez, the winning jockey in the 1981 Kentucky Derby and Preakness. December, 28 has long been considered a slow day for the paparazzi.



DENNIS FOLEY writes:

Here are some entertaining folks born on my birthday, May 13. One correction: Stevie Wonder was born Stevland Judkins in 1950, in my hometown, Saginaw, Mich., and first performed as Little Stevie Wonder in 1961. I, on the other hand, first performed as the baby Jesus, in Christmas plays in first and second grades and thereby was taunted by classmates for years as "Holy Foley." I've spent a lot of time proving them wrong.



Birthdays

1961 Dennis Rodman (basketballer)

1951 Stevie Wonder (musician)

1950 Peter Gabriel (singer)

1944 George Lucas (film producer)

1943 Jack Bruce (musician)

1941 Ritchie Valens (singer)

1939 Harvey Keitel (actor)

1936 Bobby Darin (Cassotto) (singer)

1925 Al Porcino (jazz musician)

1923 Beatrice Arthur (actress)

1922 Richard Deacon (actor)



REBER: Mention of Little Stevie Wonder brings to mind something I've wondered about a long time. When we were both working, it was not unusual for Don Freeman to walk into my office and say, "Little Bobby Laurence says ..." or "Do you know what Little Bobby Laurence told me?" It was never Bob or Laurence. So my question: Why was Mr. Laurence, a gentleman of slightly more or less than average stature, called "Little Bobby?" Don, Bob, is there a story there?



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truck.jpg



DAVID FARMER writes:

As this group's unelected chronicler of old cars and trucks, I herewith submit another. This is the Studebaker Champ pickup, made from 1960 to 1964. I took the picture on a street near my home because I've always felt that the Champ was the prettiest pickup ever made. Research tells me that it was basically a Studebaker Lark passenger car in front, a truck behind, which accounts for its nice styling. The cab supposedly felt like a car, too.

Studebaker made trucks from at least 1937 until the company went belly-up in either 1964 or 1966, depending on the source. Around 1956 it had combined with Packard, which was still making luxury cars until not long before that. I remember Packards being comparable to Cadillacs, and they served as limos for movie stars and other wealthy people. But the combination failed, and two great names went down.



REBER: I remember the Champ and also (with great admiration) the Studebaker Silver Hawk and Golden Hawk. My memory is that those two cars were kind of a last gasp for Studebaker and produced in response to the successes of the Ford Thunderbird and Chevy Corvette.



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BOB WEAVER writes:

Received this today from the Mercury-News alumni group:



CONTRACT: A sobering contract was approved Monday by a 3-to-1 margin by the dwindling membership of the San Jose Newspaper Guild, which merged with our Bay Area brethren some months ago.

The numbers will dwindle further under this contract: All copy desk and design work will move to Walnut Creek, as will some advertising functions. The Guild negotiators estimated Monday that 15-18 copy editors and designers will lose their jobs or choose not to apply for the Walnut Creek positions; 12-15 will be retained in Contra Costa County after Aug. 1.



I'm pasting the news story below.

MN union OKs pay cuts, concessions

Amid drastic declines in newspaper advertising revenue, members of the San Jose unit of the California Media Workers Guild, which represents newsroom, advertising, circulation, finance and janitorial workers at the Mercury News, voted Monday 127-39 to approve an 18-month contract that calls for pay cuts, higher medical insurance premiums and less vacation for its members.

The contract also allows the newspaper to move its copy editing and design operations to Walnut Creek and finance and circulation to San Ramon. Pay will be reduced by 7 percent for the remainder of this year, and an additional 2 percent starting on Jan. 1, 2010. Employees also took a one-week unpaid furlough earlier this year. The company can require another five-day furlough in 2010.

However, the contract preserves many of the benefits won in previous negotiations, including pay scales and pay protections, paid holidays and certain bargaining rights.

"This is a tough contract that will hurt a lot of our members, but it reflects the terrible situation that the news industry and the country is in," said San Jose Guild President Sylvia Ulloa, who was on the bargaining committee. "The committee did the best we could do to limit the damage to our members, minimize the loss of jobs and to try to maintain the quality of the Mercury News," she said.

"I am so grateful that the employees have rallied together here to help the company through this difficult time, and we will make it through this difficult time," said Mac Tully, president and publisher of the Mercury News. "I certainly appreciate their support in this effort."



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REBER: We've been talking about what could be done about the U-T Library's byline card file and other resources to preserve them and make them available to more people.



SHARON REEVES writes:

In response to some of the ideas raised about the byline cards:

In order to try to copy the byline cards in one morning, it would require access to a number of copiers around the building. Then, of course, there is the problem of putting the cards back into order once they have been copied. I’m sure the three librarians don’t have time to put the cards back in order, nor do they have time to search for a misfiled card among the estimated 7,500 other cards. If it were to be done, I suspect they would rather rely on just a few people whom they had trained rather than a large group of people.

I know it sounds picky, but in this time of tight budgets, I wouldn’t be surprised if the company would want those doing the copying to supply the paper. This sounds trivial, but it frequently takes several tries to get a readable copy of each card. Multiply that by 7,500 cards and by 2 for both sides, and it comes to a lot of paper.

The problem with scanning is that one needs a good original to get a good scan. That brings us back to the problem that the byline cards are not good originals. If they scanned at all, the resulting product would likely be gibberish. I think the only way to get them into a database would be to rekey them, and that’s a lot of rekeying. (As mentioned before, the cards used both back and front. That comes to 15,000 cards!) There are probably a bunch of extra computers sitting around the UT these days. Maybe the company would be open to having a small group come in and work on rekeying if anyone is interested in doing that.

I don’t presume to speak for the new owners, but one problem that always comes up when dealing with possible volunteer labor is the problem of the liability of the company in case of an injury to a volunteer.

I don’t mean to sound negative, and I would love to see this valuable resource more readily available, but it isn’t a simple problem.

As to finding a new home for the clip files, they like the byline cards are still in use, so donating them probably isn’t an option at the present time. At one time when we were looking into scanning the clips, I talked to the San Diego Public Library and the San Diego Historical Society, and neither was interested. There are a lot of clips, and just housing them in a way that would make them available would require a major commitment for a recipient.

Unfortunately, scanning the clips is as problematic as scanning the byline cards; they aren’t good originals either.

If the paper can do a deal to get the microfilm digitized, that would be the best answer for preserving the information in the clips.

Now that your eyes have completely glazed over, let me point out that the clip room in the basement houses not just the clips, but years and years of photographic negatives taken by UT photographers. Unlike the clips which could potentially be replaced be scanning the microfilm, the negatives are totally irreplaceable if damaged or destroyed.

I hope that now that the UT building is partially empty they will see fit to bring the clips and negatives up out of the basement and store them in a more hospitable location.



REBER: That's a pessimistic assessment, but very accurate, in my opinion. If the info on the cards is to be accessible, scanning is not the answer. The information needs to be re-typed, and someone smarter than I would need to build the database into which the information would be typed. And, I guarantee that you can forget about retyping them on U-T computers. Unless computer security has weakened unbelievably since I was there, you can't just walk into that building and use a computer without the computer folks building user accounts, etc. And they are not going to do that for a team of volunteers.



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REBER: Back to the entertaining stuff. I can't tell you how much I appreciate Rex Salmon digging through old 919 messages so we can offer these gems for our newer members. A million thanks, Rex.



REX SALMON writes:

The topic of these writers from 2006 fits right in with the topic of June 2009 about getting a start in journalism.

With nigh onto 400 Copleykites’ umbilicals hooked up to Jack Reber’s viable computer in celibate Ramona, it’s really a shame that probably 300 of us have missed what’s gone on before. Jack has printed some age-old stories on slack nights when news on the spindle was slight, but isn’t there space for more? I’m sure some ancient gang members have favorite items to share with the neophytes now aboard. I have about 1,100 columns from 919. When I can’t sleep, I tread the halls of Copley history makers until the jabbering of old friends comforts me and puts me back to sleep. Then it’s pleasant dreams.

These reports come from the 12/30/06 issue of NINEoneNINE.



JIM BOX writes:
My hiring at the U-T occurred when I was 19 years old and a student at the West Point of American Journalism: San Diego State.
Frank Holowach was one of the faculty members ... Frank also worked weekends and summers on the copy desk at the Union. He mentioned in class one day that the Union had an opening for copy boy. I called immediately after class, went down later that same day for an interview (with the city editor, Vic Whitaker) and went to work soon afterward.
The toughest part was that I had to tell my boss who ran the stockroom at the new JJ Newberry's department store in Mission Valley that I was leaving. He had just gone to bat for me with his boss and got me a raise: from $1.25 an hour to $1.30 ... and I was working 48 hours a week.
So I'm probably one of the few people who went into journalism for the money: I recall that my salary as a copykid in September 1961 was $55 for a 40-hour week

GINA LUBRANO writes:
The story of how I got hired:
I got hired by going on a junket to Mexico, which now is SO verboten. It was 1969, and I was planning to resign from the Oceanside Blade-Tribune, which I called the Blade Trombone. Dick Daniels, who had been working as the North County reporter for the Trib, told me that I would be perfect to replace him (I THINK he said perfect). So I made an appointment and was "interviewed" by Dick Eby at the Trib. I put quotes around "interviewed" because Eby was clearly not interested. He did not look me in the eye once during the whole minute I was in his presence. So, off I went, determined that I would quit soon any way and move on to greener pastures. In July that year came the offer of a junket to Mexico. I was talked into going by my then boss, Bill Missett. There I fell into the company of one Jim McVicar. McVicar (Lord love a duck) and I and a guy who worked for the Californian, Del Hood, hung out together. I was taking refuge from a roommate who, when I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night in Cabo San Lucas, whispered "watch out for the creepy crawlies."
This was 1969 and the only way to get to Cabo was by dirt road. It was a bone-jarring trip, made tolerable by copious amounts of alcohol, but I digress.
I remember walking around La Paz and Mazatlan with McVicar and Del Hood, looking for a television set so we could watch the landing on the moon. We never did find a television, so I had to be satisfied with news clips when I returned.
It was an adventurous trip, made so by a visit to my room by a hotel doctor because I was so sick. That really delighted my roommate who chose that moment to quiz the doctor on why they didn't have a better refrigeration system in Mexico.
I survived the trip, and once I got home, I got a call from McVicar asking me if I wanted to interview for a job. He also made the same offer to Del Hood. Del said no thanks. I went down and was interviewed by Baker Conrad, a very dear man. I remember Fred Kinne telling me if I worked there until I was 65, I would be eligible for a pension. Meant nothing to me then, but means A LOT to me now.
I was hired to replace Dick Long who was going off to South America or Mexico for a year. Baker underlined that the job was just for a year. That year came and went and other years came and went.
So, that's my story, Jack. I've often thought of that junket, especially after I became ombudsman in 1992, I wondered about the ethics of getting a job through people I met on a junket. But, 1969 was a different time. Junkets were common, and no one thought a thing about it. It's certainly different now.

PATRICIA DIBSIE writes:
SDSU prof Art Wimer talked the Trib into hiring me as an intern during my last year of college. I heard about the Copley Training Program and applied, King Durkee interviewed me for a short time and then explained to me that there were only two spots open. He went on, seems hiring a woman for this position was a waste of good money because she would get married, start a family and leave the paper. Then came a "click" and I asked him to wait one moment while I turned the tape in my recorder (located inside my purse on the floor). And just like that he hired me! Seems a tape of our conversation inspired him. The tape, as I explained to him, was to help me sharpen my interview skills and not as entrapment of any sort. He assured me I was welcome to join the program. This was the only year there were three trainees, he hired two males and me. Mike Walker, Bill Osborne and I were the class of 1971. I got a telephone call when King retired, said I turned out to be one of his best trainees. I assured him that "the tape" had been destroyed years ago, and we both had a good laugh. Times were tough for women back then, but not as tough as it was for the women already on staff who paved the way for my generation. Betty Peach was my hero, when times got tough she got tough on me and I turned out the better for her guidance. As a journalist, she was one of a kind; as a human, she is one of the kindest. Heard that somewhere and it stuck. Sure applies here.

JACK GREGG writes:
I was fired for guild activities from the UP in Los Angeles in 1952 so I came to San Diego looking for work. I first called at Channel 8 and was told there were no jobs in San Diego anywhere. Then I went to Channel 6 where Lionel Van Deerlin was in charge. He said, "There are no openings, but I want you to know you are the first person to ever ask me for a job." Then I went to the Tribune where I was interviewed by city editor Guy Ryan and managing editor Larry Sisk. It was all pretty boring until they asked me my wife's name. I told them "Francesca" and they perked up, maybe thinking she was heiress to a Spanish land grant or something. Actually she was named after a great grandfather's Sacramento girlfriend when he was a Pony Express rider. Anyway I was hired on six weeks and six months probation periods (because of a guild troublemaker reputation I would guess). On the first day of work after deadline, Fred Kinne (who was city editor, only without the title) took me across the street to Harvey's Eat Shop, bought me a cup of coffee and told me what I had to do to please Guy Ryan. I asked what I had to do to please Fred, and he said, "Anybody who can check out and write five stories (they were little ones) before first deadline is good enough for me." It worked out because I lasted on the good old Trib for 32 years.

JIMMY THORNTON writes:
You insisted we produce stories how we were hired by the U-T. Richard Brumley and I worked for the Houston Chronicle. Sometime before 1969 he was hired by the Evening Tribune. At Christmastime he sent a card describing the mild climate in San Diego County. Later he said the Trib was looking for a copy editor. I bought an airplane ticket and flew to Lindbergh, where Richard picked me up. He and his wife Jean showed me the area. He took me to a basketball game -- that was before San Diego's pro team dribbled to another city.
Gene Gregston was ME, and he hired me. At least I thought he hired me. He gave me the impression he hired me. But I wasn't hired. I thought I was and that's why I returned to Houston and quit my job. We rented the biggest U-haul trailer our Olds station wagon could pull. Then-wife Patricia and I put everything we had in that trailer and watched the Olds' rear bumper sink lower and lower (do you believe in premonitions?) What we couldn't load, we left for neighbors to fight over. Oh, yes, we had three little passengers, Brendon, 5, Bridget, 4, and Shamus, 2. The trip went well until we hit the mountain range that separates San Diego from the real world. The transmission on the Olds self-destructed east of Guatay (near Buelah) at the top of some damned mountain, the highest I'd ever seen from a disabled car.
I coasted while muttering thoughts of inspiration into a roadside park. There an elderly couple immediately sized up our predicament, ran to the cab of their motor home and burned rubber getting away from us. Then two self-described "desert rats" drove up in an old rusty Army Jeep. They were Navy men on leave. I explained our problem, they took one look at the children, then ordered us on board the Jeep. They swore they'd find help. And they did in Guatay. The wild ride in that Jeep could have been featured at Disneyland. The kids loved it. Patricia and I hung on to the kids and Jeep for dear life, as they say. The only filling station mechanic in town was out of town at a hospital with his wife who was recovering from major surgery. I explained to the station owner our problem and gave him keys to my Olds and everything we owned. The desert rats waited until that was settled, then they volunteered to drive us to downtown San Diego because it would be days before the mechanic returned to work.
They dropped us off at Horton Plaza at a time when it was a funky park, filled with sidewalk Bible pounders and hippies falling off motorcycles as they slid to a halt when their LSD kicked in. One cyclist knocked over a pay phone stand -- as it was being used (maybe that was another day). I reached into my billfold and handed the desert rats a wad of cash. Enough for their gas. I could never repay their kindness. They took the money reluctantly and bid farewell and good luck.
We were suddenly alone downtown with no place to go. No car. No clothes except what we wore. And the kids all needed to go to the bathroom -- urgently. The weather was delightful. Patricia saw a public restroom nearby, and while they took care of business, I ambled over to a hotel (possibly the Grant) and rented a Saab station wagon. Our next goal was to find someplace to live. The newspaper rental listings failed to provide any help. People at one place saw our three kids and slammed the door. I called one number and the landlord refused to drive out to show us his rental house. "Look through the windows and call me back." So we rented a motel room on the outskirts of town (it was smaller in those days) and Patricia bought underwear for the kids at a huge supermarket. Next day there was a single listing for a house in Bay Park near Mission Bay on Erie Street. We raced over and got in line. A couple ahead of us was arguing with the Realtor. "We want at least a year lease," the man said a bit snippily. "Sorry, this is a military rental and they will be back in 6 months." I leaned forward and said with intense humility, "We'll take it." Before the couple ahead of us could reconsider, the Realtor gave it to us with a friendly smile. So, there we were. At least I had a job. Or so I thought. I showed up at work and dodged firecrackers and some maniac jumping from desktop to desktop. Rex Salmon was making animal music through his nose. An elderly gent on the copy desk suffering Tourette’s syndrome would stop, look blankly into space and yell, "Marie!" (I kid thee not.) Then he went back to work.
John McPeek was the only ordinary person I saw at first (if you didn't count Scott Stewart). Did I say ordinary? Sorry, John. But I had a job. When I thought I was hired, I was forced to take a Guild position because there were no exemptions available. I progressed from the copy desk to photo editor. Then, after about 5.99 weeks, I was summoned to the ME's office before Gene Gregston, Larry Lusitana, Leo Bowler, Dick Eby and, I think, Jack Gregg. They all looked at me solemnly. And Mr. Gregston shuffled some reports on his desk (remember I'm Texan and he's an Okie). Then he informed me that I did not have a job. Huh? Before I could utter another probing huh, he explained. Because of the Guild contract, I was not hired until after I survived a six-month period of probation during which the company could send me away without a job at its discretion, no questions asked. The reports in front of him concerned whether or not I was worthy of hiring. Well, he said, the six months probation had ended. I think he did this on purpose. He hesitated. All eyes were on me as I squirmed in my chair. "Well, Jimmy, you're now officially hired." I may have been the only one there not grinning.

REBER: Great stuff. Thanks again, Rex, and you've convinced me I need to do more "reruns."



Jack Justus Reber

P.O. Box 2239

Ramona, Calif. 92065

USA