Keep them coming

     Good evening, 919 Gang. I took a day off from manual labor, and it's a good thing. I was swamped with additions and amendments to bios in the 919 Gang Directory, which probably will be distributed this weekend.
     Note: Do not assume I will add your email address to your bio in the directory. To respect your privacy, I do that only if you type it into your bio or tell me you want it added.
     One of the neat things about today's directory posts was that I heard from several people who have never written before and had not given me a bio until today. Several of them made for interesting reading, particularly this one.

     CINDY LUBKE ROMERO writes:

     If I remember correctly, I started working at the 919 address about September of 1972. I was hired into the mailroom which was a lot of fun! Soon I was driving around a three-wheeled Cushman cart that looked just like an ice cream cart, delivering proofs and tear-sheets for Advertising back and forth downtown all day. I do remember John Sweeney jumped on one day and both of us landed in the gutter. I remember meeting Barry Fitzsimmons and Bob Ivins on one of my tours to Marston’s department store. I could run up eight floors to Mr. Lee’s Advertising and back down without even getting winded…boy how some things have changed!
     I was really in love with the old UT building, and it broke my heart to move to Mission Valley. Most of the names escape me now, but after about a year or so I moved to the Union newsroom seated in front of Ken Hudson and under the ever watchful eye of Betty Bulini, producing the Sunday TV Guide. I typed for hours with paper flowing onto the floor. I never got it right according to her…but that was okay. It was boring, and I had my eye on something better. I sat next to Gene Gregston and his secretary – and given some time I would remember what this wonderful lady's name was.
     After following around the photographers for a while I went to see Charlie Sick. I asked him if I could do a ride along. His response was “I thought you’d never ask.” I really liked that guy…43 men and me — great odds in my book. We all got along, and it was amazing watching these guys work. Their knowledge of their craft was mind-boggling to me and still is. Every single one of them took the time to show me some little skill that they had perfected and made it to look so easy! They didn’t let me into the field until my first assignment --the PSA crash. Nice huh? I remember standing next to Joe Holly in the stench of diesel fuel and body parts when he shot photos for the Pulitzer Prize-winning edition. I was pretty happy that I didn’t pass out from the heat or anxiety! They held my old job for me in case I didn’t "fit" in the lab -- until that day.
     I never won any prizes, but I have a lot of prize-winning stories! I saw Jerry Rife at the party in Hillcrest that Cheryl Clark and Anne Krueger hosted. The first thing he said was "the last time I saw you weren’t you doing the same thing on the 4^th floor of the UT?" I laughed because I used to sneak in an electric grill, and we would have a feast of hamburgers and hot dogs on some Saturdays. I remember a "snake" that someone started of film cans that Charlie let happen. It hung from the entrance and grew until it reached into the dark rooms—I had nothing to do with this one. Then there was the Camp Pendleton commander. His dog peed on my leg. Neil Morgan picked that up at some point, much to my embarrassment.
     One of my favorite people in the whole world was Snivi (Ivins spelled backwards). I still miss him, and I am pretty sure I speak for everyone who ever knew him. Brilliant man and friend to all. I never saw him angry but did see his venerable side. He found women a puzzle and was just a bit afraid of them when it came to asking someone on a date. His usual line was "I don’t suppose you’d like to go out with me…" Anyway I remember him walking into the darkroom carrying a giant boom box that he turned on very loud, just before entering -- his voice just above the volume screaming "Everyone be mellow!!" I suspect he was also the one who lit the jack-o-lanterns in the darkroom.  Stupid me. I couldn’t figure out why all my paper was fogged!
     One more -- I made the mistake one early, quiet morning in the darkroom -- of asking a question about football. Young and innocent I asked what a sack was…Thane McIntosh felt he needed to show me, and I don’t know how many others joined in. Sometime later I peeled myself off the damp rubber darkroom floor. From then on I was more careful with my questions…boy those were the days when you didn’t have to worry about harassment. I had so much fun with these guys.
    After husband Bill Romero and I were laid off in 1991 it took a year, but I then went on to work at the Sheraton on Harbor Island. I made a lot of friends and contacts. After 10 years, yet again I was laid off. I always said I would never work at an insurance company but after five months of unemployment and getting a little desperate, I took the job that I have now at GEICO in Poway. I get to shoot pictures, produce large conferences and work with some really amazing Christian people. As it turns out all the other jobs that I lost have trained me for this one! I’m having a blast here, even after eight years. It never seems to get old.
     I have three grown children – Ryan, 28, who is here in San Diego and is just now picking up a camera; Jamie, who is a manager at Old Navy at Times Square in New York; and Tim who finished Brooks Institute of Photography in three years is now working for a company called Industrial Color, also in New York. Why they keep moving away I have no idea—but after telling them all the crazy stories of the things that I’ve done, they tell me that they want to experience stuff too. I wish I’d never said anything…gosh!
     Thank you for letting me join the gang!

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     REBER: We reported on U-T employees laid off June 14, and today I heard another name. I am told that Sports reporter Kevin Gemmell returned from vacation today and was let go.

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     ROGER CONLEE writes:

     We had three different spellings of Jack Shores’ name in this morning’s Rebergram. I can confirm that John McPeek got it right: Shores. I was his slot man on the copy desk in 1966.

     ELSON IRWIN writes:

     Yes, that's it ...it was Jack Shores (Shors). I have the faint, and believe me it is faint, memory of going to his place of residence. It seems to me the large old apartment complex (near downtown) was called "The Barcelona," or some such name, I don't recall just how it happened or why. It might have been on a day when I was supposed to be off, and for some reason Jack failed to show up for copy desk duty. Apparently, Bill Hagen tried to reach him by telephone and was unable to do so. Then, he called me to come in, but to stop by the Barcelona on my way in to see if Jack was all right.
     I remember going there. I don't remember what I found out about Jack. I'm positive it was not something as bizarre as Jack being dead or anything like that.
     Yes, I do remember the Ben Gurion "tag," but I didn't remember who applied it." Of course, it had to be Rick Smith. I also should have remembered that Scott Stewart was in on my "birthday" antics along with Hagen and John McPeek. Scott had such a wild imagination and was truly a funny guy...not that he was funny personally, but that he was a very clever person.
     Does anyone know what happened to Abe Guiterrez after he went to live South of the Border? I had heard he was in bad straits and then nothing more.
     What I remember most about Abe was his atrocious golf habits...how he used to drive McPeek, a very serious golfer, up the wall while on the course.
     Note to John: I actually became a much better golfer later in life. And I still play an executive three-par twice a week here in Hemet. I live on the fourth hole, so I keep it up the best I can, though I may have to start using a cart soon. I have won the annual putting contest three times in 10 years, last year (July 4th) being one of the times. So, I'll be defending my title on Monday. Golf is the only strenuous activity I engage in these days, having stopped playing senior softball a few years ago. Are you still playing, John?
     I would like to hear some Bill Hagen stories from the old gang. How about it?

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     REBER: Today (June 30) we wish Happy Birthday to Mitch Weinstock.

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     JIMMY THORNTON writes:

     When Jack Williams was a sports writer, as he should have been all along, I admired his features. Then he was assigned to Action Line, much to his displeasure. Over time, he got over the shock of the new assignment. But the first few days, he sat at a window and gazed into the area of the valley that amused John Sinor. He no doubt was planning his escape. Once he and I took in a Padres game, and it was grand to see how he enjoyed his beer. Never too much. He sipped it, I think. My gulping sounds may have deafened my hearing at the time. Jack was a world authority on beer. Me: it has to be wet.
     The area that John Sinor joked about was a ridge in the valley. We had a grand view of it. This was before developers crowded houses and such along it. Mr. Sinor would point to the ridge like a kid at a matinee and warn, “Any minute now, we’ll see Indian warriors lined up along the ridge ready to charge us.” I would have welcomed that. What an item it would make.
     Jack Williams is an excellent writer and he added much to the Action Line column. Oh, he also taught me how to walk. Once, after I’d strained something or other and was limping around the newsroom, Jack noticed that I walked like Bobo with two huge feet splayed outward. He suggested I straighten up and walk right. From then on I considered him Dr. Williams, the foot doctor. Now I walk like a prince charming.

You can’t say John Sinor didn’t warn us…….

     RICK SMITH writes:

     Harry Hache actually called me a gray-haired teenager as far back as 1961 or '62. Hache believed correctly that this sobriquet described my level of maturity. Not much has changed. Jack Williams! He loved high school track and field and was a very good writer. Jack discovered Crawford sprinter Elijah Jefferson as as sophomore in 1973 and never wrote about anyone else the whole year.

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     REBER: The U-T reported an incident in which a funeral Mass was refused for a man who was gay. The San Diego Archdiocese reversed that ruling. Dick Harrington noted the man's connection to the old Press Room Bar regularly frequented by U-T staffers when the paper was downtown. Thanks, Dick. I missed that reference.

     DICK HARRINGTON writes:

     Jack, I am sending this obit because on the line near the end that says "He owned The Press Room in downtown San Diego from 1972 to 1983 ..."
     I didn't know the man and may have been in the SRO Lounge once.
     Here's the link:
http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/2011/jun/28/catholic-church-reconsiders-gay-mans-funeral/
     Here's the link to the paid obit:
http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/signonsandiego/obituary.aspx?n=john-b-sanfilippo&pid=152276085&fhid=9491

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     DAVID FARMER writes:

     It's interesting how terms coined 100 or more years ago are still in use, long after their origins have been forgotten. For example, horsepower.
     Nowadays, a person might live a whole life without ever seeing a horse, except in parades or movies. But not much more than a century ago, horses were a common sight, even in cities. They were the only practical power source for drawing loads too heavy for men.
     Of course, if you needed to build a pyramid and had access to thousands of slaves ... but that's another story.
     The developers of the steam engine wanted a unit to compare their products with draft horses, which they were eager to replace. They calculated that a horse could lift 550 pounds one foot in one second. Horsepower was quite an artificial measure in view of the differences between horses. But the word served its purpose.
     Today, horsepower survives in a few uses, notably to describe the muscle of automobile engines. The watt and other measures are employed in more precise applications.
     But having spent summers on a Minnesota farm in the company of powerful but docile draft animals, I'm glad to see the noble horse remembered. Plenty of folks, including some on this site, are lucky enough to be around them. Me, as close as I get is my 100-horsepower Prius.

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     DICK HARRINGTON writes:

     Jack, here is the link to a Reader story on the fourth and last auction of the Copley Library Papers.
Bidders Check Out Copley's Library

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     TIM WILSON forwards:
     This is a very interesting article about an attack dog named Cairo. He is the one that went on the Navy SEAL mission after Osama Bin Laden.
     The story relates what Cairo and other dogs like him go through in training and what a valuable asset they are to law enforcement and the military worldwide. These canines even parachute with their handlers from as high as 30,000 feet (almost five miles) and can run twice as fast as a man.(Click on the graphic of the “canine tactical assault suit” to enlarge it and read the cool stuff these dogs carry in combat).
http://blogs.canoe.ca/parker/general/the-dog-that-cornered-osama-bin-laden/#.TfqIOTAh4JA;facebook

     REBER: Great photos with that one. Thanks, Tim.

     GENE CIECHANOWSKI forwards:

     Watching him you forget he's a puppet.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPvciIdDZAE
 

Jack Justus Reber

P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.

Last call

          Good evening, 919 Gang. Many thanks to all who have sent amended bios for the 919 Gang Directory, which will be distributed in the next few days. Last call for others to update their information and for those who have yet to send a bio.

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          RICK DAVIS writes:

          Regarding that wizened Tribune copy editor "Jack" mentioned recently by Jimmy Thornton, Elson Irwin and others.... his full name was Jack Shors. Years ago at the Tribune, I was among the younger staffers who rotated onto the copy desk from other departments (Sports, in my case) for six-week stints. Bill Hagen was slotman on a crew that included John McPeek, Jack Shors and Bob Lebo (anybody recall esteemed Rick Smith's nickname for Lebo?). I do recall Rick's nickname for Jack Shors. Rick labeled him "David Ben-Gurion" (because of Shors' resemblance to the man who was Israel's first prime minister, 1949-53).
          Another Tribune tactic: During the '70s, the Leo Bowler/Larry Lusitana leadership squad also rotated reporters to/from Action Line for 12-month deployments. I replaced Alan  Palmer there in '72, joining a cast that included reporters Dawn Rogers and Paul Van Nostrand, a receptionist named Maria Elena and a clerk named Nick Canepa. Bunkered in the basement of the old Spreckels Building (adjacent to the old U-T fortress downtown), Action Line shared leased space with a mixed bag of sometimes chicanery-obsessed characters including U-T exec Ed Fike (whose secretary was 919 Gang member Diana Mortensen), Tribune columnist John Sinor, another U-T exec whose first name was possibly Walter and a balding public relations/advertising guru named Frank Seeley (uncertain about the spelling). Nick noted more than once that Frank's clients included the John Hine car dealership, for which Frank created the marketing pitch "I got mine at Hine."
          Then in '73, another Jack -- 919er Jack Williams -- left sports to take my Action Line billet when I rotated back.  Alas, I don't think Jack ever returned to sports, instead moving on to Scene/Currents as a features writer, and eventually serving with distinction as U-T obituaries writer for many moons. Add Jack Williams: Sports editor Harry Hache had hired me (as I was leaving Navy active duty) to work on the Tribune sports desk in late 1969 to fill a vacancy created because Jack W. had escaped the sports desk to cover prep sports. The story I heard later.... Groused the crusty Hache one afternoon during that summer of '69: "Too many of these young guys feel they have to be authors. Jack Williams was hired (from the San Bernardino Sun in '68) to work the desk. That was the deal -- the desk. No writing. Now he wants off the desk... to write." At that point, Bill Finley (the other Tribune prep writer) chirped: "Hey, Harry, some people will say anything to get out of San Bernardino."
          Add Hache: Harry may have been the only Tribune staffer to turn the tables on Rick Smith, anointing Smith (who went gray earlier than many) as "The Silver-Haired Teenager."

          NICK CANEPA writes:

          I was there the afternoon of Elson Irwin's "Taps" performance. The bugler was a Marine from MCRD, as I recall.
          Wasn't the Jack on the copy desk Jack Shore? He had a great fondness for ship movements.
          Happy birthday to Elson, who could write a 30-inch story in 15 minutes.

          JOHN McPEEK recalls:

          Jack Shores was his name, a wonderful old Trib copy desk part-timer who had spent most of his career working for the famed Brooklyn Eagle. A widower, Jack apparently found sweet refuge in a dream world -- a dream world populated by a mysterious Marie, whose name he sometimes voiced without realizing it. He was a very likable guy who shared many delightful memories of the "good old days in newspapering." His part-time status at the Trib permitted him to occasionally travel on cargo ships, an inexpensive way to see the world. He ranks high on my list of most unforgettable characters.

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          JOE GANDELMAN writes:

          I need to add my voices to those truly saddened over the death of Michael Scott-Blair. I was at the San Diego Union from January 1982 through November 1990. There are many vivid images which to me are not "seems like only yesterday" but in my mind's eye yesterday. And Michael Scott-Blair used to come over and chat. He was one of my favorites as a person and as a writer. All of these bits of sad news make us realize how we need to appreciate those who are in our midst and, when they aren't, that they were once in our midst.

          MIKE BURGE writes:

          I was so sorry to hear about the passing of Michael Scott-Blair. He and I were colleagues in Escondido before the 1992 merger, and he was a gentleman and true professional. I learned a lot by watching him work. He was an excellent story teller and had a wonderful sense of humor, which made his written work so enjoyable. He was one of the unforgettable good guys, and he'll be missed.

          EMMET PIERCE writes:

          Michael Scott-Blair was one of the colorful, larger-than-life characters who used to be common to newspapers. Sadly, they are very hard to find in modern journalism, and I think the profession is poorer for their absence. In addition to being very talented, Michael always was polite and upbeat. It's not surprising that he is very much missed by his colleagues.

          JOE HOLLY writes:

          Like Noel Osment I have been out of touch for a while. Going back I am amazed at how much has happened. Michael Scott-Blair, Don Braunagel, Burl Stiff -- all in such a short period. And the layoffs, always more layoffs. Jimmy Skovmand. One would think that by now, it wouldn't be so painful to see a friend's name listed, but it is. It is understandable in a dying industry, I suppose, but what a cost. What a sad period in the life of the 919 Gang. It is very tough to watch on a daily basis. But to take the past couple months in one gulp is especially so.
          I did this for Burl when I first heard of his death. But it is for us all.

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          JOE BROWN writes:

          To  the list of 919er comments here some time ago about medical/prescription insurance for us retired geezers let me add a note or two of my own. About the same time as my cardiologist started me on the blood thinner Coumadin, I began having severe bouts of nausea, often preventing both sleep and diet. The docs twiddled with the various other prescriptions I was taking (about six) to see if a conflict of one or more of them with the Coumadin might have been responsible. After more than a month, tired of the doctors' unsuccessful. research, I checked myself into the emergency section of a local hospital. After waiting literally more than three hours to see a doctor, I was finally tended by an M.D. with the unlikely name of Savage. She had me try a powerful drug named Zofran, formulated originally for cancer patients suffering from nausea during chemo and radiation. One of Savage's sample tablets worked almost instantly. She gave me a prescription for 20 more Zofran, warning me to ask the price before buying "because they're expensive," My wife did just that at a local pharmacy where our account is located. Because we have prescription insurance with both Medicare and AARP, our co-pay cost was $7. Without insurance (hope you're sitting down for this) the cost would have been $433. Will I complain again about the cost of prescription insurance? Not on your life.

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          PAT ROGALLA writes:

          Nearly every morning while eating breakfast I am also reading the morning L.A. Times. (Do you care? No? Whatever) I have an excuse. I spent a few years writing on a morning newspaper (San Diego Union), and what I loved then, I do now. There is a caveat. I view the L.A. Times as an off-beat propaganda sheet. (I can't help everything just because it is wrong.) So, I live daily with the mind-set. This morning the yellow sheet intrigued me. (So? La-de-dah-poop-a-doop.) On A-section, page 10, lower fold -- "Woman has to remove diaper for pat-down." The butter on my toast turns sour.
          That's the news story in the headline. A 95 year old woman lost her dependence on "Depends". Sue the company! Roll heads at the airport! Hit the Supreme Court pleading, The Declaration of Independence under the laws of nature! Maybe I should sip my hot tea.
          Still reading the first section of the L.A. Times, Editorial page 13, is this heading "Rage Against the TSA." Oh!, a columnist, I. Goldberg of latimes, has plenty to write about the subject I read three pages back. In a dozen paragraphs on "garbage in and garbage out" he has used more than a hundred words. I believe this story is going to reap tons of follow-ups. My orange juice tastes sweet.

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          JIM FALK forwards:

          It's fascinating to watch the evolution of growth from the 13 colonies up to the present day -- with dates, wars, purchases, etc. all included. As much as you may know about American history, I guarantee you'll learn something from this short video clip.
          Before you click on the link below... note that when it opens, do not click on Go at the bottom ... click on Play at the top .
http://www.animatedatlas.com/movie.html

          REBER: That is really a fine presentation. I enjoyed it.

          TIM WILSON forwards:

          Two short, fun videos
          Surfing at night:
http://tinyurl.com/6br77gn

          Puppy grows up in 40 seconds:

http://tinyurl.com/3eworp4

          If you love mathematics, you’ll love this. Pi gets punked. Totally logical.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IF1zcRoOVN0&feature=player_embedded

          And yet another young, genius talent hits the world stage:

http://chookaparker.com.au/

Jack Justus Reber

P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.

A success in everything

          Good evening, 919 Gang. Tributes continue to come in for Michael Scott-Blair, who passed away Friday. I had a message from Rose Marie Scott-Blair and she said she was touched by your messages.  

          TOM NOLAN writes:

          I didn't catch up with the news about Michael Scott-Blair until this morning, and I'm truly saddened. Michael was an editor's joy during both of the two stints he worked with me at the Union. His stories were accurate, professionally crafted and always on time. Plus, he loved to play racquetball! We'd sneak away at lunchtime generally once a week and get in two or three games. He played with the same passion he devoted to his work. He was an all-around good guy.

          MIKE RICHMOND writes:

          I also was saddened by the death of Michael Scott-Blair. I usually saw him only occasionally as we passed in the hallway or the men's room at work. but he always had something positive to say such as "Good as gold!," when asked how he was.
          The story of his arrival to work at the San Diego Union was one I can't do justice to in repeating but it had to do with when he and his then wife and two small children drove across country to his new job and life by the sea in San Diego.
          It was one of those unbearable hot days in the middle of summer when they arrived in the Imperial Valley, and as I recall had car trouble and spent a lot of time dealing with repairs, anxious kids, and the heat so bad that the ice cream cones Michael said he bought for everyone melted away before they got to the car. He said it made him wonder how anyone in their right mind could live in such a place as El Centro and how fortunate he was to get the job at the San Diego Union.
          Then he described reporting to the Union the next morning only to be told by the editor (Ed Thomas?) that he was assigned to the El Centro bureau. Michael was truly a likeable person and a success in everything he was involved with. My sincere condolences to his family.

          NORMAN MANSON writes:

          Add my condolences on the passing of Michael Scott-Blair. He was a great newsman, and easy for us on the Union copydesk to work with. Also, add Ed Hutshing to those who called him "The Hyphen," among the many nicknames he bestowed on co-workers and others.

          JULIE PENDRAY writes:

          It is hard to write goodbye to Michael Scott-Blair, with whom I felt a special friendship because we both worked in Dunedin, New Zealand, though years apart -- I was a radio reporter, and he worked at the paper. I will miss his chipper, "Oh, hello Jewlie dear" (British spelling accented) whenever I talked to him by phone. You can imagine what a tonic that was on stressful days on deadline. Sometimes he helped me keep it all in perspective.
          We had lots of great laughs. I remember gently putting him in his place the first time he called me "Julie dear" when I was his editor, by saying "Julie's just fine thank you." Naturally, he spent years ribbing me about it.
          When Michael walked in unannounced one day to ask about freelance writing at the old Escondido bureau on Valley Parkway, I soon realized he would be a tonic. I felt lucky to have another British type, especially one who had worked in New Zealand, to enjoy commonalities with. Some days, he helped keep me sane. I know he'd have a quip to add to that.
          When my son was little, he especially enjoyed Michael and Rose Marie's huge cat. So, Michael goes down in history with my son as "the one with that big cat."
          Love to you Rose Marie. I will call you soon after you've had time to decompress and I look forward to the celebration of his life.

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          JOHN McPEEK recalls:

          Elson Irwin has always been one of my favorite newspaper characters. I cannot remember how many times I told him after he would relate an astounding facet of his checkered career, "Elson, you're the most fascinating man I ever met." He, of course, doted on admiration ... of any degree.
          (Before I continue, let me wish Elson a belated happy birthday.)
          I remember well the unforgettable event he recalled yesterday. Scott Stewart, Bill Hagen and myself were the criminals involved in the drama.
          As I recall the tragic event, a long-faced Elson came into the newsroom one morning and announced that he had just come from his doctor, who said Elson had emphysema and would not long be among the living if he didn't quit smoking. Poor Elson.
          His distress greatly saddened his cohorts. Much consolation was expressed.
          "I'm too young to die," Elson wailed. "There are many things I would like to do; many pleasures I've never enjoyed."
          "Such as?" inquired an empathetic co-worker.
          Elson ticked off a few favorite things on his bucket list. "And I've always wanted a B-B gun," he added "Every boy should have a B-B gun."
          The lunch hour arrived. A secret collection was conducted. One criminal rushed to the hardware store, another got on the telephone.
          Later, when the quitting hour arrived, a bugler appeared from the wire room behind Elson's desk and played a beautifully mournful rendering of Taps. You had to be there to realize how touching the scene was. Then a young woman appeared and sang "The Party's Over."
          Elson struggled to keep his emotions in check. And when the B-B gun was presented there was even snuffling among some of the onlookers.
          Ah yes, I remember it well, even though it was more than 30 years ago.

          JANET LOWE writes:

          Hope your birthday was special and lovely, Elson.

          JIMMY THORNTON writes:

          Scott Stewart was running the Copley desk (as I called it) when I arrived from The Houston Chronicle. He reminded me of Bob Hope on crack. It was grand, I tell you, grand. Yes, Jack the elder (he must have been 80) would suddenly blurt out “Balls.” At other times, if I recall correctly (Rex Salmon would know) he looked up and saw something no one else saw and cried out, “Marie!” Then back to work. Tourette syndrome? Naw, just Jack. The only explanation for Scott: He was nuts.
          Bill Hagen had several different jobs as the years passed on, including news editor. Once, as Frank Saldana called in a breaking story to me on deadline (rewrite), Bill hovered over my typewriter and read the copy as the story developed. He decided to play it across the top of page one. Frank won an award for it. If I recall correctly, Mr. Saldana’s Spanish lingo gave him an advantage covering stories in Mexico. This one was in Tijuana.
          I think shortly after my arrival at the Trib, Elson Irwin and I sat in the cafeteria (or a place to eat lunch) and watched crews put the final touches on the Coronado bridge. Didn’t Jerry Schultz jump from one edge of the bridge to the other as they closed the gap? I hope his eyes were shut.

           REBER: Wasn't the fellow's name Jack Neilson?

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          REBER: Now for the entertainment section. Both of these are excellent, but I especially like the first one. Thanks, Tim.

          TIM WILSON forwards:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_CDLBTJD4M&feature=player_embedded

          TIM WILSON forwards:

          This is the dream of every schoolboy. The largest model railway in the world located in Hamburg, Germany:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PN_oDdGmKyA&feature=player_embedded#at=22

Jack Justus Reber

P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.