Happy Birthday (July 30) to Joe Holly and Kelly Murphy; July 31 to Noel Osment; Aug. 1 to Don Kohlbauer, Marsha Kay Seff and John Sweeney; Aug.2 to Ellen Bevier; and Aug. 4 to Ed Zieralski.
P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Birthdays
A last thought before I hit the road. A number of people will be celebrating (I hope) birthdays before I resume 919 Gang Reports.
P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
Time out
Good evening, 919 Gang, and also goodbye for a while. Mary's Texas relatives plan to meet us in Las Vegas, and we'll be gone next week. My plan is to file again late Saturday/early Sunday, Aug. 6-7. And, please, don't anybody feed me that line about "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." How did that bit of nonsense get started? Doubt O.J. Simpson was the source.
The malicious program is "Security Protection," and you will see those words in its messages. Be suspicious.
Marissa, who lost both legs in an IED blast in Iraq and nearly died, told me that while she liked her doctors at WR, some members of the hospital staff were despicable. They treated her horribly. And I’ve heard this from so many veterans. Our troops deserved better. Things had apparently improved at Walter Reed over the past few years thanks in large part to the media for shining a light on the problems, but I’m still not losing any sleep over the fact that the hospital has closed its “stately old doors.”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5lbNXNn3CI&feature=youtu.be
http://tinyurl.com/3wc5j7n
Three young lads who will take your breath away.
I'm sure we'll be hearing more from them...IL VOLO is their name.
www.Youtube.com/watch_popup?v=CLThl6xEYBM
http://tinyurl.com/42ozhhj
P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
---------------------------------------------
REBER: Last night I reported seeing evident that John Berhman's email had been hijacked.
JOHN BERHMAN writes:
Thanks for the warning on our being hacked. We don't know how that happened. We called Dell today, and they had no answer either, although we have a McAfee security program. I usually just delete, without opening, those dopey Viagara ads. Maybe they were getting back at me. Some friends also alerted us, and said they had been hacked, too. Dell told us to change our password and everything should be okay now. Thanks, again. REBER: You were lucky to some extent, John. In most of these cases the user (you) is shut out and can't regain access to their own email. The important thing is to never share your password with anyone. Not your bank, your Internet provider, me or anyone else. None of those people will ever ask, so if someone requests your password they are culprits.
I had my own virus problem today. A very authentic appearing window opened, appeared to do a quick scan and then told me I had 14 serious infections. I was invited to sign up and get those problems fixed. But that warning did not come from my virus software, so I was suspicious. I ran a complete system scan and deleted all the files the program had dropped on my desktop. A couple of hours later it came back. I did another scan then did a system restore, setting my computer back to the way it was two days ago. That seems to have fixed it.The malicious program is "Security Protection," and you will see those words in its messages. Be suspicious.
--------------------------------------------
REBER: A couple of days ago Reenie Shea asked if any members had been patients at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center, which closed recently.
JAMIE RENO writes:
Hi Jack, it’s very nice to hear that Jerry Rankin’s memories of Walter Reed Army Medical Hospital are so positive. Why? Because of the many, many Walter Reed horror stories I’ve heard from Iraq and Afghanistan vets. Marissa Strock is one of those: http://www.newsweek.com/2007/11/09/i-want-to-live-for-my-guys.html Marissa, who lost both legs in an IED blast in Iraq and nearly died, told me that while she liked her doctors at WR, some members of the hospital staff were despicable. They treated her horribly. And I’ve heard this from so many veterans. Our troops deserved better. Things had apparently improved at Walter Reed over the past few years thanks in large part to the media for shining a light on the problems, but I’m still not losing any sleep over the fact that the hospital has closed its “stately old doors.”
JOHN McPEEK recalls:
Many years ago -- during the Korean War -- I was a long-time ambulatory patient at Walter Reed Hospital receiving daily physical therapy for a smashed up right hand. What I recall was that there was a popular public golf course within walking distance. My hand injury did not prevent me from visiting the course every day. Each day, after my therapy treatment, I would grab my clubs and slip out a little-used back door. One morning as I was about to sneak out the door, it opened and I was greeted with the immediately recognized face of Gen. Omar Bradley, one of the most famous WWII faces. I was not in uniform, so I did not salute, which I would have considered a great honor. He smiled, I smiled, and we passed. It was a memorable day. I shot a fair game and, as I recall, won three ten-cent skins. REBER: And I have wonder: What injury would be severe enough to keep John off a golf course?
----------------------------------------------
REBER: Last night I mentioned that in San Diego, persons older than 70 are not automatically excused from jury duty, and I wondered if that was just a local rule.
BOB WEAVER writes:
Guess the 70+ jury choice is yet another reason for moving to beautiful Kern County -- right up there with the heat and fog, not to mention a riverbed that has water from time to time. DENNIS CORBRAN writes:
Regarding "getting out of" jury duty, the easiest way apparently is to just not show up. Nearly a quarter of people summoned just don't go in and guess what? Nothing happens. I've made up for many of those no shows having served on five juries. And though I really expected to like it I really don't. And nothing I say during voire dire seems to dissuade them from keeping me. My favorite description of jury service? You're locked in a small room for hours with 13 strangers you have nothing in common with except the one thing you're not allowed to discuss. --------------------------------------------
BOB RODRIGUEZ:
Do any 919 members have memories of how they learned of the 1978 PSA-Cessna collision and subsequent events? If you do, where were you? Newsroom, motor vehicle, tavern, bathroom? Any memories? Would appreciate getting them either in the newsletter or at my eddress: bobjan44@hotmail.com REBER: I was in the newsroom, and I remember the people who weren't working that day but started flowing in when they heard about the crash. As I recall, 919er Rick Davis was one of those who suddenly appeared and said "What can I do?"
-----------------------------------------------
JIM FALK forwards:
I've always loved spontaneity, even when it's planned.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5lbNXNn3CI&feature=youtu.be
DENNIS FOLEY forwards:
New meaning to giving it the old college try:http://tinyurl.com/3wc5j7n
REBER: Imagine that. College kids putting out a paper with manual typewriters and pencils. Hope they had glue pots.
DIANA MORTENSON forwards:
Subject: Three kids from ItalyThree young lads who will take your breath away.
I'm sure we'll be hearing more from them...IL VOLO is their name.
www.Youtube.com/watch_popup?v=CLThl6xEYBM
BOB ELLEDGE forwards:
David Minthorn is the grammar expert for the Associated Press -- The Washington Posthttp://tinyurl.com/42ozhhj
P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Still growing
Good evening, 919 Gang. I'm happy to welcome another member tonight.
REBER: Thank you, Caitlin, and welcome to the group, Divina. We look forward to an introductory message.
My dad was an Air Force colonel stationed at the Pentagon in the early 1950s when I began having stamina problems, so his exalted status got me into Walter Reed and my dox turned out to be the same ones you saw in the paper often those days treating President Eisenhower for the heart ailments that almost killed him. I'd be preparing to deliver the Washington Post & Times Herald out in Fairfax at 4:30 in the morning, when I'd notice that there on the front page were my cardiologists smiling with the always-smiling Ike! Wow, did that reassure me. And it was all free, for which I would like to thank all of you taxpayers and the socialistic medicine which covered Dad and his family.
Unfortunately, as they explained to this teenager, they could help Ike but not me. There was nothing much you could do in those days for someone with a leaky aortic valve except to tell the patient to stay healthy, don't over-exert and see a cardiologist once a year for the rest of your life. They hinted at, but never said it explicitly, that the heart would expire before I did, but also said medicine was making great advances. The bad heart kept me off the track team and out of the Peace Corps -- but also kept me out of the Army when I was drafted at the height of the Vietnam war, so that was a big positive out of a negative.
As I've recounted before in this space, just as those doctors had hinted, the valve gave me short notice while I was hiking to a Beach Boys concert in Santa Barbara that it was retiring. But I didn't and now am in to my second and presumably final man-made valve. I spent a lot of time at Walter Reed for a couple years, for the heart and more routine ailments, and have always remembered those cardiologists fondly for gently giving a kid a heads-up on what he would face the rest of his life.
-------------------------------------------------
Another fantastic TED talk:
http://www.flixxy.com/airplane-flies-like-a-bird.htm
P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
CAITLIN ROTHER writes:
Divina Infusino, the former rock critic and entertainment writer for the Union, would like to join 919. Divina is one of the authors in the group I founded about a year ago called San Diego Writing Women. If anyone is interested, we write about various aspects of our writing lives and the publishing world on a blog at http://sandiegowritingwomen.blogspot.com.REBER: Thank you, Caitlin, and welcome to the group, Divina. We look forward to an introductory message.
-----------------------------------------------
BILL BIRCH writes:
What a shocking way to start my day by learning in the 919 report of the death of George Ramos. He was a dayum fine reporter. I believe the last time I saw him, he was teaching at the University of Arizona journalism department on a fellowship. I was in Tucson for homecoming and dropped by for a planned short visit. I say planned because we got to exchanging barbs about the UCLA Bruins and the Arizona Wildcats. That brought out the stories of San Diego Union days, and we darned near missed the kickoff. Time seemed to get away when you were around George. I'll miss him.----------------------------------------------
JERRY RANKIN writes:
Regarding Rennie Shea's wondering how many of us were treated at Walter Reed, I'll bet a number of 919ers walked through those stately old doors, but I was lucky enough not to be there for repair of bullet holes.My dad was an Air Force colonel stationed at the Pentagon in the early 1950s when I began having stamina problems, so his exalted status got me into Walter Reed and my dox turned out to be the same ones you saw in the paper often those days treating President Eisenhower for the heart ailments that almost killed him. I'd be preparing to deliver the Washington Post & Times Herald out in Fairfax at 4:30 in the morning, when I'd notice that there on the front page were my cardiologists smiling with the always-smiling Ike! Wow, did that reassure me. And it was all free, for which I would like to thank all of you taxpayers and the socialistic medicine which covered Dad and his family.
Unfortunately, as they explained to this teenager, they could help Ike but not me. There was nothing much you could do in those days for someone with a leaky aortic valve except to tell the patient to stay healthy, don't over-exert and see a cardiologist once a year for the rest of your life. They hinted at, but never said it explicitly, that the heart would expire before I did, but also said medicine was making great advances. The bad heart kept me off the track team and out of the Peace Corps -- but also kept me out of the Army when I was drafted at the height of the Vietnam war, so that was a big positive out of a negative.
As I've recounted before in this space, just as those doctors had hinted, the valve gave me short notice while I was hiking to a Beach Boys concert in Santa Barbara that it was retiring. But I didn't and now am in to my second and presumably final man-made valve. I spent a lot of time at Walter Reed for a couple years, for the heart and more routine ailments, and have always remembered those cardiologists fondly for gently giving a kid a heads-up on what he would face the rest of his life.
-------------------------------------------------
BOB WEAVER writes:
Dave Farmer's plan is dwarfed by the jury duty dodge I discovered last year. If you are of a certain age (70 I believe) California offers you the right to opt out. Probably think you are too addled to handle it anymore. REBER: I wonder if that varies from county to county. Here's the answer to an FAQ on the web site for the Superior Court, County of San Diego:
"20. I'm over 70. Am I still required to serve?
"Yes, unless your health prevents you from doing so. If so, you may be permanently excused without a doctor's letter. For more information, call the court at (619) 450-5757 between 10:00 a.m. and 3:30 p.m., Monday through Friday." JIMMY THORNTON writes:
As a newsman I was called to jury duty. Ended up in Tom Blair’s column as an item that was called in by someone else, identity unknown to me. The lawyers in that case OK’d me to sit on the panel despite the fact I told the court one of their victims in the robbery was my former wife’s divorce attorney (that was the item). As I sat among the jurors waiting to hang this kid, the accused, he looked guilty, the judge and lawyers huddled, and one looked at me. Then the judge announced that juror number something or other (me) was excused. Years after I retired to deafness without the aid of two hearing aids, jury duty became a nonissue. When called, I simply sent a letter eagerly accepting but explaining that since I wore two hearing aids they might have to repeat testimony. I’ve never been called again. Who wants a juror who keeps interrupting, “Huh, what did he say?” “Did she say mother or murder?” REBER: I was in a group summoned to a court room, but I and many others were not chosen for the jury. As we left the courtroom, one woman became agitated. "Why they won't even let jurors ask questions. How are we going to find out who did it?" I don't think she understood how the justice system works.
-------------------------------------------------
TIM WILSON forwards:
It’s a bird, it’s a plane…uh, it’s a plane that flies like a bird.Another fantastic TED talk:
http://www.flixxy.com/airplane-flies-like-a-bird.htm
P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Start them early
Good evening, 919 Gang. I don't know why people make such a big deal about child-labor laws. I ignore them. When the grandkids were with us Monday, I put them to work. They helped me fill eight black trash bags with leaves from under the eucalyptus trees. Then I took them inside for some more work. And I paid a lot less than minimum wage. The kids seemed to enjoy the work, although the 7-year-old quit a bit early. I didn't dock his pay, but I suspended contributions to his 401k. It's a tough lesson, but a kid's got to learn.
-------------------------------------------
Later we both transferred to the Union as reporters when CNS started cutting back, and we remained good friends. He even took my daughter to get her registered for school! After my husband and I moved back to Kentucky in 1978, he visited us there as he was returning from the 1980 Olympics in Russia. And we've kept in touch ever since because we share the same birthday -- October 1. I'm going to miss his greeting this year!
He was an outstanding, sensitive and perceptive reporter, and I'm sure he influenced many future reporters at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo as well.
Also, after six more phone calls on Tuesday, two wrong email addresses for circulation subscriber and customer services, and about an hour trying to send screen captures, I finally called Cory Fish in HR who put me in touch with Diane Davies. She immediately identified the problem as a missing zero on the account number -- which inexplicably was never an issue before -- and we got it fixed. You'll have your paper Wednesday morning, she said. And I did.
My concern remains for subscribers who don't know whom to call.
Then we got a bill saying that if we didn't pay, they would send it to a collection agency.
I meant to call but never did, and we never heard another word about it.
DAVID FARMER writes:
Here's the most effective tactic for getting out of jury duty that I've personally witnessed. I was in a pool, and a well-dressed businessman type was being questioned. Asked if he could treat the defendant as innocent until etc., the man said, "No, I don't think the police arrest innocent people." From the look on his face, you could tell that he was only trying to get excused in the fastest way possible. But the judge had no choice but to thank him and let him go.
The closest I ever got to being on a jury was one day in a municipal court in Hollywood. I actually wanted the experience of sitting, but when the judge asked me a question I had to be truthful. He asked what I thought of the jury system. I said a panel of judges in place of lay people might be better. One of the attorneys immediately moved for my dismissal.
At one point, I asked a friend, a senior editor, about this. He said AP had an arrangement with the court, which was told that all AP staffers knew everything about every case before they ever reached a courtroom, and that "reporters would be armed with the facts -- which is something no court in the land can stomach."
Wow, 700,000 miles. Why that's nearly the distance I covered during my time at the Trib walking from my desk to the coffee machine past the artist's crib, and down to the cigarette machine on the next floor. I think that it was the pressmen's lounge. Not sure about that, but there was a cigarette machine, one that vended candy and some others.
Back to high-mileage vehicles; my late dad gave me his '55 Buick Special when it had something like 160,000 miles on it. And they were hard miles, as his territory for a pharmaceutical company was Tijuana to Ensenada and points in-between, plus occasional trips to Mexicali and sometimes to Tecate. I remember vividly when he'd take me with him on the old road out of Tijuana, way before the toll road. Great views at times, but scary looking down at the ocean as the road skirted the edges of cliffs. He bought unleaded gasoline from Pemex, which raised a lot of eyebrows in those days when he'd take the Dynaflow beast in for service in Chula Vista or downtown San Diego. Unleaded? No way! Yes way. Also, he severely crashed the three-holer once; drove it during an intense sand storm somewhere in Arizona, and generally was pretty rough on the vehicle. When I got it, I immediately put it on a rake, popped off those lovely stainless steel hubcaps with the red circle in the middle, and had dual exhausts and sweet-sounding mufflers installed. Plus, I had a four-barrel carb installed. Yep, I was ready to cruise all the Oscars in the county, plus the Round-Up in Chula Vista. Wish I had kept that Buick, but I was more ignorant then than now, so I traded it (got ripped off) for a '66 AMC 440 with three-on-the-tree. Actually though, the 440 was peppy and gave me plenty of service until I wrecked it one night. It was what I call The Night of the Wallbangers. Must run in the family.
P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
--------------------------------------------
LES WILSON writes:
Some company called "Jhoos" apparently is sending e-mails supposedly from me, asking my contacts to become "friends" on their program. I have sent out no such messages. If you receive one, please ignore it. REBER: Apparently John Berhman's email has been highjacked and is being used to send Viagra ads. There's no point in emailing him about the problem because he won't get the message, but if you have his phone number, please let him know.
-------------------------------------------
RUBY LAYSON writes:
I was so sad to hear of the death of George Ramos, whom I probably knew longer than anyone else on this list. Fresh out of journalism school and Vietnam, he came as a Copley trainee to the Copley News Service Bureau in Los Angeles shortly after I transferred there in 1971. I respected his ability from the first. When the position of bureau chief opened up the next year, George and the other two reporters there successfully promoted me to the higher-ups for the job -- a female first for the Copley organization.Later we both transferred to the Union as reporters when CNS started cutting back, and we remained good friends. He even took my daughter to get her registered for school! After my husband and I moved back to Kentucky in 1978, he visited us there as he was returning from the 1980 Olympics in Russia. And we've kept in touch ever since because we share the same birthday -- October 1. I'm going to miss his greeting this year!
He was an outstanding, sensitive and perceptive reporter, and I'm sure he influenced many future reporters at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo as well.
ROGER SHOWLEY writes:
I worked with George when he was a gangbuster at the Union and was friends thereafter, even introducing him to our son Charlie, when he was preparing to enroll at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. Besides his superb journalistic skills, he was a great guy with a boundless sense of humor, and it was a very sad day when he left for L.A. Now, this day is even sadder.------------------------------------------
REBER: Cheryl Clark mentioned what she was paying for her U-T subscription, and Nancee Lewis asked about getting that rate, less than what she is paying.
CHERYL CLARK writes:
Nancee -- that is the rate our buyout group received in September of 2008. $99 per year.Also, after six more phone calls on Tuesday, two wrong email addresses for circulation subscriber and customer services, and about an hour trying to send screen captures, I finally called Cory Fish in HR who put me in touch with Diane Davies. She immediately identified the problem as a missing zero on the account number -- which inexplicably was never an issue before -- and we got it fixed. You'll have your paper Wednesday morning, she said. And I did.
My concern remains for subscribers who don't know whom to call.
JEFF ROSE writes:
I don't know about Cheryl's trick, but to get my rate I told them I had a $100 yearly offer from the L.A. Times (I did) and I was going to switch unless they matched. I also used the occasion to say the value of the paper had declined after they shed all their veterans in favor of half-price rookies. BOYD GARRISON writes:
When our U-T subscription lapsed (on purpose), we got it for free for a month or so.Then we got a bill saying that if we didn't pay, they would send it to a collection agency.
I meant to call but never did, and we never heard another word about it.
----------------------------------------
DAVID FARMER writes:
Here's the most effective tactic for getting out of jury duty that I've personally witnessed. I was in a pool, and a well-dressed businessman type was being questioned. Asked if he could treat the defendant as innocent until etc., the man said, "No, I don't think the police arrest innocent people." From the look on his face, you could tell that he was only trying to get excused in the fastest way possible. But the judge had no choice but to thank him and let him go.
The closest I ever got to being on a jury was one day in a municipal court in Hollywood. I actually wanted the experience of sitting, but when the judge asked me a question I had to be truthful. He asked what I thought of the jury system. I said a panel of judges in place of lay people might be better. One of the attorneys immediately moved for my dismissal.
DAN BERGER writes:
When I was at AP in L.A., those summoned for jury duty were asked to tell news editor Jack Quigg. Quigg then asked for the summons, and they always seemed to be quashed. At one point, I asked a friend, a senior editor, about this. He said AP had an arrangement with the court, which was told that all AP staffers knew everything about every case before they ever reached a courtroom, and that "reporters would be armed with the facts -- which is something no court in the land can stomach."
----------------------------------------
BOB RODRIGUEZ writes:
"The car at issue was a 1970s Datsun that, according to testimony, had more than 700,000 miles on it, ..." Wow, if that's true, we all should be driving Datsuns. Which reminds me of the hoary joke about the origin of that name. I know that there's a prohibition about jokes in this newsletter, so if it's deleted, it is. Ahemm ... it seems that the Japanese needed a name quickly for a vehicle, and went to a German firm that specialized in product IDs. When the Japanese representative told the German expert that a name was needed within a week, the expert replied, "Datsun?"Wow, 700,000 miles. Why that's nearly the distance I covered during my time at the Trib walking from my desk to the coffee machine past the artist's crib, and down to the cigarette machine on the next floor. I think that it was the pressmen's lounge. Not sure about that, but there was a cigarette machine, one that vended candy and some others.
Back to high-mileage vehicles; my late dad gave me his '55 Buick Special when it had something like 160,000 miles on it. And they were hard miles, as his territory for a pharmaceutical company was Tijuana to Ensenada and points in-between, plus occasional trips to Mexicali and sometimes to Tecate. I remember vividly when he'd take me with him on the old road out of Tijuana, way before the toll road. Great views at times, but scary looking down at the ocean as the road skirted the edges of cliffs. He bought unleaded gasoline from Pemex, which raised a lot of eyebrows in those days when he'd take the Dynaflow beast in for service in Chula Vista or downtown San Diego. Unleaded? No way! Yes way. Also, he severely crashed the three-holer once; drove it during an intense sand storm somewhere in Arizona, and generally was pretty rough on the vehicle. When I got it, I immediately put it on a rake, popped off those lovely stainless steel hubcaps with the red circle in the middle, and had dual exhausts and sweet-sounding mufflers installed. Plus, I had a four-barrel carb installed. Yep, I was ready to cruise all the Oscars in the county, plus the Round-Up in Chula Vista. Wish I had kept that Buick, but I was more ignorant then than now, so I traded it (got ripped off) for a '66 AMC 440 with three-on-the-tree. Actually though, the 440 was peppy and gave me plenty of service until I wrecked it one night. It was what I call The Night of the Wallbangers. Must run in the family.
REBER: I worked for H&R Block one season, doing tax returns. A vacuum cleaner salesman gave me an unbelievable figure for his auto mileage. I pointed out if his figure was correct he was driving 1,000 miles a day, 365 days a year. He stuck by the number. I entered it and told him to come back in two days for his completed return. He never came.
--------------------------------------------
REBER: With news that the Walter Reed Army Medical Center has closed after 102 years, here's an interesting question.
REENIE SHEA writes:
How many 919 members spent time being treated at Walter Reed Army Medical Center? P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Goodbye, George
Good evening, 919 Gang. Last night, Joe Schneider reported the death of one-time Union reporter George Ramos.
The other was one night we were out on the down, wolfing down plates of Mexican food and swilling margaritas. George decided he wanted to drive home with me to help me cope with what was certain to be a furious wife. On the way from San Diego to Chula Vista, we noticed a fire off in the distance. “Oh well, the cop show will cover that,” we agreed. “Nothing major.” We found out the next morning that Caliente Racetrack had burned down.
I’ll miss the guy and our annual SC-UCLA debate. Oh, I forgot the time George threw a Selectric typewriter at Virginia Spiller and left a gaping hole in the wall, and how Al Jacoby wanted to fire him for his misdeed. I would have none of it and used every bit of persuasion I had in me to talk Al out of it. Since Al was a very kind man (much kinder than he ever liked to admit), he decided a stern talk would do. It was a decision none of would never regret. Goodbye, George. There are tears in my eyes, but I know that somewhere you’re getting ready for the fall football season and your favorite declaration, “It’s gonna be a Bruin year.” Not likely, my friend, not likely!
When I finished school and the Copley Editorial Training Program and was hired as a reporter in Escondido, Jake spent a lengthy amount of time with me giving me the names of contacts and background in Escondido City Hall and in the community. He had worked for the Escondido Times-Advocate before joining the Union. His name got me in to see a number of city officials and eased my way into following up on two great reporters for the Union in Escondido: Jamie Bryson and Nancy Ray.
I’ve read and re-read Al’s article about the “old days” at the U-T. The memories are vivid, as I tried to emulate such newsroom stalwarts as JaCoby; Bill Parry, who was my county editor and mentor; Charlie Ross, who had me take dictation from Peter Kaye during the Nixon gubernatorial campaign when I was still a copy boy (and took flak for it later); Jack Cooper and Joe Brooks, who let me tag along with them for dinner at Sheng Haw Low; Ed Thomas and Fred Kinne, who offered encouragement and support when I was a student and full-time copy boy.
While all these editors and staffers were providing incentive and support at the office, my introduction to the Press Room Bar and Sheng Haw Low restaurant gave me an exposure to the social side of newsmen – and I loved it from the beginning. I had my first beer in the Press Room bar when I was 20 years old. I would go in to the bar with some of the regulars from the Union, just to sit and listen to and absorb their stories. After a while, I guess I was a regular too and the bartenders started serving me beer. When I celebrated by 21st birthday at the Press Room, they weren’t too amused, but it was a personal milestone. Then I started trying different kinds of hard stuff. Jack Murphy came into the bar very infrequently, but when he did he was a Scotch drinker as I recall. So I tried drinking Scotch for a several weeks. I never developed a taste for Scotch, but I gave it a serious chance before becoming a bourbon drinker.
Then I was introduced to Sheng Haw Low, and the best bartender I’ve ever known, Bobby Tom. Most of the Union guys would sit at the bar, and have a couple of drinks. Then the $1.25 steak would arrive. Then they would have at least one more drink. This all took place within a one-hour dinner period. Later, I would venture to the “Chinaman’s” on my own. Frequently, I would only have $2 on me – enough for 50-cent drink, $1.25 dinner and 25-cent tip. I would nurse my drink while waiting for the steak to arrive. Bobby would bring me a second drink and not charge me for it. On other nights, when I had a $5 bill on the bar to pay my tab, he would deduct an extra 50 cents to buy a drink for someone else who was short on cash that night.
The education I received from hanging out with reporters, editors and photographers at the Press Room and Sheng Haw Low were my equivalent of a master’s degree in journalism. The work-hard, play-hard philosophy stayed with me throughout most of my 40+ years with Copley Newspapers. I had my personal problems making the adjustment to the alcohol-free newsrooms of the 1980s and ‘90s. But I would never trade the experiences that Al described in his article of Feb. 2, 1992, and reprinted in our 919 Report this past Sunday.
What I remember most about those days in the ‘60s is how much fun we had. It just took some of us longer than others to grow up and get serious.
REBER: These are great memories. Jim mentioned "alcohol-free newsrooms," and that reminded me of the annual Copley luncheons for 25-year (or was it 20?) employees. Someone correct me if I am wrong, but I believe alchohol was served at these luncheons. One year the booze was gone, never to return. But the do-it-yourself ice cream sundae bar lived on.
DENNIS FOLEY writes:
My jury duty story isn't about me, but is an "as-told-to" yarn from then-Tribune reporter Maria Puente (I was her ACE). Maria reported to the court after receiving her summons, though she wasn't excited about it. She called the same afternoon to say she had completed her service. Here's what she said happened: Her pool was sent to a courtroom and Maria was put into the jury box for voir dire. When one of the attorneys asked her if she could be impartial in weighing the evidence, she said something like this: "No, with all the plea bargains, I figure if we've gotten this far the guy must be guilty." The fuming judge dismissed her. With prejudice, I reckon.
We were told by management that any parking ticket we received would NOT be paid by the company. OK, fair enough. The UT was willing to reimburse any amount at any pay lot/meter whatsoever, so as long as you had some cash on hand (I always kept a roll of quarters in my company car), many downtown parking issues could be handled.
Now driving tickets were another matter altogether. The photo department took a pretty dim view of photographers who racked up driving violations. I think part of the reason photographers seldom received (speeding) tickets was that we were usually headed to the same calamity that every other cop was en route to as well. In the late 1990's I was working in the UT North County Bureau, fondly called SMUT (San Marcos Union Tribune). The police scanner in my car alerted me to a rollover traffic accident in Escondido. I was heading there via Mission Road near Palomar College when a SD Sheriff officer with a radar gun standing on the side of the road motioned me over to the side of the road. Oh boy, ticket time. This sheriff had to be 6' 5" tall if he was an inch. He came over to my driver's window and asked why I was in such a hurry. I realized this was my only chance to plead my case, so with little time to think of much else I blurted out the truth. I told him I was a Union-Tribune photographer and I was headed to a vehicle rollover a few miles away. This hulk of a cop said, and I quote, "I don't normally like newspaper people, but I'm going to let you go just this one time. Just slow it down a little".
I said yes sir and was quickly on my merry way.
-------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
JIMMY THORNTON writes
I was almost famous like Nick Canepa. My neighbor was Bill Sandeman, married to LeeRay. They had two daughters and we had three kids in their age group. What makes me almost famous is the fact I knew Bill Sandeman, a football player who competed for a job with some guy named Bob Lilly when he played for the Dallas Cowboys; then Bill played guard for the Atlanta guys. One day he came to me and asked me for my help to move his boat, the one he took out to dive for abalone. Gee, I stood about 6’3” so it was natural he’d choose a hunk like me to help him move the boat as he aligned it to snap the massive vessel onto his truck (whatever). So I eagerly agreed to help in this manly task. LeeRay also would help. When I arrived, he said, “Stand in the back of the boat with LeeRay to balance this thing while I pull it to the truck to hitch it up.” Yes, I hauled my manly ass onto the boat and stepped lively aftward, and LeeRae and I stood carefully as Bill maneuvered his boat into position. Yes, I run with the bulls!
--------------------------------------------
http://tinyurl.com/3tvmuas
The graphic updates as you do, showing the U.S. count and percentage on top and the breakdown by time, race, and household income on the bottom. Simple and straight to the point of interest. (Note the graphs and the percentage change in types of households. Some of them are fairly dramatic).
http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/06/19/nyregion/how-many-households-are-like-yours.html
Try moving your mouse near this guy's head.
http://www.selfcontrolfreak.com/slaan.html
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
GERRY REEVES writes:
I hired George, way back in the dark ages when I was county editor. I could tell enough Ramos stories to fill a book. He was a great friend, an outstanding reporter and a remarkable human being. I will miss him and our annual bet on the SC-UCLA football game. My favorite Ramos story (or one of them) can now be told. When I was on the desk, he and John Donner wrote a story about a Grand Jury report the day before it was released. Goes without saying the judge and jurors were furious beyond measure. When I asked George how he got it, he said, “I don’t want to tell you If there’s any kind of investigation, you’re better off not knowing. “ Years later he DID tell me, and the hi-jacking was done with one of my favorite techniques….he got the printing plates out of the trash at the operations center….a trick I had told him I employed several times.The other was one night we were out on the down, wolfing down plates of Mexican food and swilling margaritas. George decided he wanted to drive home with me to help me cope with what was certain to be a furious wife. On the way from San Diego to Chula Vista, we noticed a fire off in the distance. “Oh well, the cop show will cover that,” we agreed. “Nothing major.” We found out the next morning that Caliente Racetrack had burned down.
I’ll miss the guy and our annual SC-UCLA debate. Oh, I forgot the time George threw a Selectric typewriter at Virginia Spiller and left a gaping hole in the wall, and how Al Jacoby wanted to fire him for his misdeed. I would have none of it and used every bit of persuasion I had in me to talk Al out of it. Since Al was a very kind man (much kinder than he ever liked to admit), he decided a stern talk would do. It was a decision none of would never regret. Goodbye, George. There are tears in my eyes, but I know that somewhere you’re getting ready for the fall football season and your favorite declaration, “It’s gonna be a Bruin year.” Not likely, my friend, not likely!
LEE GRANT writes:
Joe Schneider's item on the death of the fine, former L.A. Times journalist George Ramos noted, "He played a key role in a series on Latinos in Southern California. Series won L.A. Times a Pulitzer Prize in 1984." An aside: Also playing a key role in the series was Marita Hernandez, a former San Diego Union news assistant and L.A. Times reporter. JIM BOX writes:
I first met Al (or Jake as some called him) JaCoby in September 1961. He was the Sunday Editor of the Union, and I had just bern hired as a copy boy. I usually worked the 4 p.m.-1 a.m. shift because I was a full-time student at San Diego State. I was rather intimidated by Al’s gruff demeanor (he even had a shaggy moustache) as I was making my rounds to either drop off or pick up copy. But Jake was the first editor to actually talk to me, ask me questions about my goals and to realize that I was a journalism major and interested in the newspaper business.When I finished school and the Copley Editorial Training Program and was hired as a reporter in Escondido, Jake spent a lengthy amount of time with me giving me the names of contacts and background in Escondido City Hall and in the community. He had worked for the Escondido Times-Advocate before joining the Union. His name got me in to see a number of city officials and eased my way into following up on two great reporters for the Union in Escondido: Jamie Bryson and Nancy Ray.
I’ve read and re-read Al’s article about the “old days” at the U-T. The memories are vivid, as I tried to emulate such newsroom stalwarts as JaCoby; Bill Parry, who was my county editor and mentor; Charlie Ross, who had me take dictation from Peter Kaye during the Nixon gubernatorial campaign when I was still a copy boy (and took flak for it later); Jack Cooper and Joe Brooks, who let me tag along with them for dinner at Sheng Haw Low; Ed Thomas and Fred Kinne, who offered encouragement and support when I was a student and full-time copy boy.
While all these editors and staffers were providing incentive and support at the office, my introduction to the Press Room Bar and Sheng Haw Low restaurant gave me an exposure to the social side of newsmen – and I loved it from the beginning. I had my first beer in the Press Room bar when I was 20 years old. I would go in to the bar with some of the regulars from the Union, just to sit and listen to and absorb their stories. After a while, I guess I was a regular too and the bartenders started serving me beer. When I celebrated by 21st birthday at the Press Room, they weren’t too amused, but it was a personal milestone. Then I started trying different kinds of hard stuff. Jack Murphy came into the bar very infrequently, but when he did he was a Scotch drinker as I recall. So I tried drinking Scotch for a several weeks. I never developed a taste for Scotch, but I gave it a serious chance before becoming a bourbon drinker.
Then I was introduced to Sheng Haw Low, and the best bartender I’ve ever known, Bobby Tom. Most of the Union guys would sit at the bar, and have a couple of drinks. Then the $1.25 steak would arrive. Then they would have at least one more drink. This all took place within a one-hour dinner period. Later, I would venture to the “Chinaman’s” on my own. Frequently, I would only have $2 on me – enough for 50-cent drink, $1.25 dinner and 25-cent tip. I would nurse my drink while waiting for the steak to arrive. Bobby would bring me a second drink and not charge me for it. On other nights, when I had a $5 bill on the bar to pay my tab, he would deduct an extra 50 cents to buy a drink for someone else who was short on cash that night.
The education I received from hanging out with reporters, editors and photographers at the Press Room and Sheng Haw Low were my equivalent of a master’s degree in journalism. The work-hard, play-hard philosophy stayed with me throughout most of my 40+ years with Copley Newspapers. I had my personal problems making the adjustment to the alcohol-free newsrooms of the 1980s and ‘90s. But I would never trade the experiences that Al described in his article of Feb. 2, 1992, and reprinted in our 919 Report this past Sunday.
What I remember most about those days in the ‘60s is how much fun we had. It just took some of us longer than others to grow up and get serious.
REBER: These are great memories. Jim mentioned "alcohol-free newsrooms," and that reminded me of the annual Copley luncheons for 25-year (or was it 20?) employees. Someone correct me if I am wrong, but I believe alchohol was served at these luncheons. One year the booze was gone, never to return. But the do-it-yourself ice cream sundae bar lived on.
-----------------------------------------------------
DENNIS FOLEY writes:
My jury duty story isn't about me, but is an "as-told-to" yarn from then-Tribune reporter Maria Puente (I was her ACE). Maria reported to the court after receiving her summons, though she wasn't excited about it. She called the same afternoon to say she had completed her service. Here's what she said happened: Her pool was sent to a courtroom and Maria was put into the jury box for voir dire. When one of the attorneys asked her if she could be impartial in weighing the evidence, she said something like this: "No, with all the plea bargains, I figure if we've gotten this far the guy must be guilty." The fuming judge dismissed her. With prejudice, I reckon.
T.R. REINMAN writes:
LA Times sports columnist and Pulitzer Prize winner Jim Murray occasionally recalled, it now seems to me, the time he was invited to serve. In the voir dire process of a shoplifting case he was asked if there was any reason he should not be selected. He said, “I’m certain the Los Angeles police have better things to do than to chase down a woman they thought had lifted a lipstick.” The judge said, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Murray.” REBER: Last night I shared a hazy memory of Kathryn Balint, a prospective juror, being asked what she did for the Tribune. She replied, "I cover sewage." The interviewer responded, "Oh, you're a gossip columnist."
KATHRYN BALINT writes:
Hi, Jack. I can't believe you remember that incident from my jury duty back in the 1990s. I ended up getting on the jury. It was a criminal case in which the defendant was charged with receiving stolen property (a car) and forging DMV documents. The car at issue was a 1970s Datsun that, according to testimony, had more than 700,000 miles on it, had four flat tires and had a driver's seat that had to be propped up with a broom handle. The defendant claimed the car was a gift from a friend (but the friend never showed up to testify). The defendant added four new tires, a $1,000 stereo system and a switch to start the car (because his friend who gave him the car didn't have the key to it). The defendant's girlfriend even painted the car -- using a can of black spray paint. She also carved their names, Eddie and Rachel, in the dashboard. The jury found Eddie guilty on both counts.------------------------------------------
SCOTT LINNETT writes:
If we haven't run the ticket stories into the ground yet, I have one more to add. Photographers had a nice little edge regarding parking in the downtown area. For our courthouse jobs, the photo department "leased" a parking spot a block or so away. All you had to do was grab the parking pass from the photo desk on your way out the door. In addition, UT photographers were issued "placards" which you could throw onto your dashboard and that would usually allow you to park in most yellow and green curb zones for an extended time. Pretty handy.We were told by management that any parking ticket we received would NOT be paid by the company. OK, fair enough. The UT was willing to reimburse any amount at any pay lot/meter whatsoever, so as long as you had some cash on hand (I always kept a roll of quarters in my company car), many downtown parking issues could be handled.
Now driving tickets were another matter altogether. The photo department took a pretty dim view of photographers who racked up driving violations. I think part of the reason photographers seldom received (speeding) tickets was that we were usually headed to the same calamity that every other cop was en route to as well. In the late 1990's I was working in the UT North County Bureau, fondly called SMUT (San Marcos Union Tribune). The police scanner in my car alerted me to a rollover traffic accident in Escondido. I was heading there via Mission Road near Palomar College when a SD Sheriff officer with a radar gun standing on the side of the road motioned me over to the side of the road. Oh boy, ticket time. This sheriff had to be 6' 5" tall if he was an inch. He came over to my driver's window and asked why I was in such a hurry. I realized this was my only chance to plead my case, so with little time to think of much else I blurted out the truth. I told him I was a Union-Tribune photographer and I was headed to a vehicle rollover a few miles away. This hulk of a cop said, and I quote, "I don't normally like newspaper people, but I'm going to let you go just this one time. Just slow it down a little".
I said yes sir and was quickly on my merry way.
-------------------------------------------
REBER: The 919 Gang sends Happy Birthday (July 27) wishes to Steve Oakey. Celebrate big, Steve.
---------------------------------------------
NANCEE LEWIS writes:
Can Cheryl Clark share the secret of the $24.75 quarterly legacy rate for the Union-Tribune? I was unable to get a rate that low.------------------------------------------
JIMMY THORNTON writes
I was almost famous like Nick Canepa. My neighbor was Bill Sandeman, married to LeeRay. They had two daughters and we had three kids in their age group. What makes me almost famous is the fact I knew Bill Sandeman, a football player who competed for a job with some guy named Bob Lilly when he played for the Dallas Cowboys; then Bill played guard for the Atlanta guys. One day he came to me and asked me for my help to move his boat, the one he took out to dive for abalone. Gee, I stood about 6’3” so it was natural he’d choose a hunk like me to help him move the boat as he aligned it to snap the massive vessel onto his truck (whatever). So I eagerly agreed to help in this manly task. LeeRay also would help. When I arrived, he said, “Stand in the back of the boat with LeeRay to balance this thing while I pull it to the truck to hitch it up.” Yes, I hauled my manly ass onto the boat and stepped lively aftward, and LeeRae and I stood carefully as Bill maneuvered his boat into position. Yes, I run with the bulls!
--------------------------------------------
BOB ELLEDGE writes:
Considering the state of the newspaper business these days this somehow seems strangely appropriate.http://tinyurl.com/3tvmuas
TIM WILSON forwards:
This is kind of fun. It’s an interactive graphic form the NY Times that lets you see how many households in America are like yours. You start with the primary residents in your household such as single male or married couple, and then add those who live with you, such as a parent or child. The graphic updates as you do, showing the U.S. count and percentage on top and the breakdown by time, race, and household income on the bottom. Simple and straight to the point of interest. (Note the graphs and the percentage change in types of households. Some of them are fairly dramatic).
http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/06/19/nyregion/how-many-households-are-like-yours.html
BOB ELLEDGE forwards:
Here's one to drive us all crazyTry moving your mouse near this guy's head.
http://www.selfcontrolfreak.com/slaan.html
Jack Justus Reber
P.O. Box 2239Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
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