Good evening, 919 Gang. Aurora, Neb., Alhambra, Borrego
Springs, San Diego … what do they all have in common? They’ve all experienced
the phenomenon known as Rex Salmon.
REX SALMON hisses:
Jim,
Herb, and I all had a crack working at the Alhambra Post-Advocate.
The
two had worked at the newspaper long before 1969 when I drove up San Gabriel
Valley to eye the managing editor post. But, first, we have to back up a couple
of yards and a few years to get me there.
I
was on the Trib copy desk at the time Ken Zumwalt first contacted me about the
ME post. Ken told me if I were interested, I would have to pass a Copley shrink
test to be named to this management post. So, I met with the shrink and a few
days later, Ken came up to the copy desk and said “Let’s talk.”
A
talk to Ken meant long lunch at the U. S. Grant Grill while chatting about
everything except what was in the bouillabaisse he ordered for us. A what? I
just Googled to see if I’d imagined something looking like the funny word. Oh,
what a turmoil of shells, smells, and carcasses. In my whole life, I’d never
seen anything like this near any Nebraska farm table. The slop I fed my pigs
looked better to me. Pigs are pigs when it comes to eating. They’ll eat
whatever doesn’t chew on them first.
When
it comes to fishy and sea smells, yes, my name is Salmon. But don’t let that
deter you. During high school, I was called Red Salmon, naturally with
red hair wearing a DA cut like Elvis. I didn’t copy him. I only listened to
country music from Del Rio, Texas, late at night. No R&R.
As
a Salmon, I had a can labeled Red Salmon from Safeway on my bedroom light
table. None of my 50 classmates could brag like that – or even wanted to. Fish
didn’t swim much on our farmhouse menu. My mother opened a can of Salmon bones
a couple times a year because our Salmon table loved exciting garlic aromas
from pork roast, fried beefsteaks, and fried chicken direct from our barnyard,
plus roasted turkey twice a year. A ring of beef bologna with sauerkraut was OK
two times a month in the summer.
OK,
back to Ken’s conversation and to spy on what he was tearing apart . . . or
even slurping on. To be polite and show a little of my upbringing, I did delve
into the stuff. I digress here to make sure delve wasn’t more than what
I did. Oh, fabulous! Google lists one meaning of delve: to fish about.
PERFECT! A fish fishing around in fishy stuff. You know I must have sampled
something in the deep platter at the Grant Grill, but I don’t recall . . . and
I’m pleased that nothing is niggling. I did like the fancy bread pile wrapped
in a little cute blanket and my special order of double-dip vanilla ice cream
-- without any sauce in case a fish or whatever might have flipped in.
I
came to the Trib in 1967 from The San Dieguito Citizen where I was named
editor out of San Diego State with the help of Copley Exec Ken Reiley. A year
and a half later, Joe Stein told me about the opening on the Trib copy desk
over dinner at his folks’ house in Del Mar. I was Joe’s city editor in 1961
when he was editor-in-chief of The Daily Aztec at SDS. Before I joined
the Marines in 1956, I’d been a printer, floorman, and stereotyper at the
weekly Aurora News-Register for over three years while in high school.
With the backshop experience in Nebraska, I felt right at home editing the
Citizen and working with the printers.
Now,
we’re ready to check out this managing editor prize. Ken gave me a map and a
card for gas and food, along with a Good Luck! I was looking forward to working
at the Post-Advocate and was wondering what it was like living and
working in the vast Los Angeles megalopolis. Here’s my report examining the job
as manager editor: I was so overwhelmed by the smog and traffic congestion that
I don’t even remember touring the two-story Post-Advocate building or whom I talked
to. I was shocked that humans lived in this daily turmoil and exhaust aroma
around Alhambra.
 |
| The Alhambra
Post-Advocate as it appeared in 1938. In 2018 the P-A is no more. |
I couldn’t even tell Ken the names of the people or
describe what they looked like. I just screwed up some courage and said
“Thanks, Ken, but no thanks.” And smiled. So, I was back on the Trib as
Saturday makeup editor and on the rim other days. Happy Days with a fresh car
wash and beautiful weather to breathe.
I
was sure enjoying the beautiful San Diego winter weather and being at the Evening
Tribune. I bought a 4-2 bachelor pad with pool in 1967 in Mission Village
above the stadium for $21,500 with no-down VA. The monthly mortgage was $160
and my salary was $120 weekly. (The last time I knew the Dorchester house was
sold in 2000, it was a $402,000 prize. Someone had erased the 25-foot pool with
a lawn to mow.) So, you can see why I was very happy to be in San Diego and not
fight smog and traffic congestion. My 6-2 hours on the Trib avoided the 163
traffic through Balboa Park.
Speak
up Zumwalt! Time to visit again at the Trib copy desk. “Rex, I have another
offer for you as editor of the Borrego Sun.” I said I would love to
consider it. This time lunch was my pick: a simple hamburger and malt shop
across Broadway just north of the U-T. The word lunch reminds me of Jack
Shores, an old timer with full white hair on the copy desk. He would swing
12-inch parachute scissors around him while chanting “Maria, Maria.” The
slotman would mention his name and he’d come to. At lunch break, Jack would
quickly pipe up: “Let’s prepare to go to yonder boulevard to take on a cargo of
provender.” Floyd Thomas is the only one left to remember Shores. Others who
were on the rim: Mark Dahlinger, Bedel Mack, Joe Stein, Peter McQueen, and
another Jack which my mind won’t reveal his last name. Funny, I can’t because I
bought a hand-painted yellow-green Ford wagon from him when he left. Terrible
brush strokes, uneven shades, plus the engine burned up.
Before
we get to the Borrego Sun, we have stop here and bring Herb KIein and
James Copley up to date.
When
Herb Klein was graduated from USC where he was a Trojan columnist, he started
at the Post-Advocate as copy boy in 1940 but soon became a reporter. When WWII
broke out, he served as a Naval officer from 1942-46. Then, he was back at the
P-A as news editor from 1946 to 1950. While there he was also a correspondent
for Copley Newspapers. For USC grads, Klein is almost a god with his
contributions to the campus.
Then
Herb was called to the largest Copley Newspaper and held various positions on
the Evening Tribune and then onto The San Diego Union where he
was named editor. Then years later he spent time with President Nixon in the White
House -- becoming the first director of communications at WH – and later named
editor-in-chief of Copley Newspapers in 1980.
Rest
here now, Herb, while we dig up info about the boss and his pop.
 |
| 1934 Photo of
James Strohn Copley by Harry T. Bishop |
So
Rex, please tell us how the New York orphan named James Strohn Lodwell became
the billionaire James S. Copley of La Jolla 50 years later living in the
Foxhill mansion. James was born in 1916 to John and Flora Lodwell at St. Johnsville,
N.Y. His parents died in the 1917-18 influenza epidemic and James was 4 when
adopted by Col. Ira Clifton Copley of Aurora, Ill. The S. came from his
mother’s maiden name of Strohn.
The
big question you’re thinking: How did the colonel in Illinois make a connection
with an orphan in New York? Let’s just say it was most fortunate for Jimmie.
I’d love you to dig that up. Oh, yes. Jim also had an adopted brother named
William, but we’ll let him paint a follow-up to his own successful career in
art.
Next
question? Where did Ira Clifton Copley garner the title of colonel? That’s the
easy one. He earned it. In 1880, Ira Copley enlisted as a private in the
Illinois National Guard. In 1893 he was promoted to captain. The next year he
was promoted to lieutenant colonel and served until 1899. Then Ira was an aide for eight
years (1905-13) to Gov. Charles S. Deneen and was known officially as the
Illinois colonel -- the title he used until his death in 1947.
Ira
Copley was a publisher, politician, and utility tycoon. His home base became
Aurora, Kane County, Illinois, but he was born in 1864 in rural Knox County,
about 160 miles southwest of Aurora. Because Ira was stricken with scarlet
fever and lost his sight, his parents Ira Birdsall and Ellen Copley moved to
Aurora to be near specialists when their son was 2. He regained his sight six
years later, but had eye problems his entire life. Many years later Ira was so
pleased with the doctors, he donated the new Copley Hospital.
Following
graduation from Yale College and the Union College of Law, Ira became manager
of the Aurora Gas Light Company. He turned it into a utilities giant which he
merged into the Western Utility Corp, along with his assets. He sold it in
1926, making him very wealthy. Ira Copley served in the 62nd U.S.
Congress in House of Representatives from 1911 to 1913, first as a Republican
and then a Progressive.
OK, Rex we’re newspapering here, so how did Col. Ira become
a publisher with a busy life in several financial directions?
Copley
bought his first newspaper in 1905, the Aurora Beacon. Using funds from his
utility sale, he bought a number of Southern California newspapers in 1928,
including The San Diego Union and Evening Tribune from the
Spreckels Investment Co.
Copley Press
bought the State Journal in 1927. In 1942, it bought Springfield's
afternoon paper, the Illinois State Register. The two papers merged in
1974 as The State Journal-Register. The late Elson Irwin said his first
newspaper job was delivering the Illinois State Journal. “I was too young to
have a newspaper route, but I did anyway,” he wrote in his last 919 entry.
Elson’s brother wrote for the paper. Those on the Trib know Elson worked from
1970 to 1994, coming from the Pacific Stars & Stripes. He said he
worked on 20 newspapers in his lifetime and was never fired.
When
the colonel bought the Culver City Star-News he told James the paper “is
small enough so that you can see the trunk and all of the branches.” Young
Copley inaugurated his career literally at ground level by sweeping floors
after press runs, soliciting circulation, and performing other chores. “He was
also studying the editorial aspects of the profession, to which he was always
particularly attracted,” according to biography.
In 1939 James Copley was
graduated from Yale like his father. He served on the business staff of campus
humor magazine The Yale Record. After college, he worked
on the Alhambra Post-Advocate and other Illinois papers. Then he became the CEO
of the Union-Tribune group on his father’s death in 1947. He remained
CEO until his death in 1973, when his wife, Helen K. Copley, took over. The
Union and the Tribune merged in February 1992 to become The San Diego
Union-Tribune. The Copley Press also published smaller papers in California and
the Midwest, including the Torrance South Bay Daily Breeze, San
Pedro News-Pilot, Aurora Beacon-News, Monrovia News-Post,
the Burbank Daily Review, and several others.
The Col. Ira C. Copley Mansion was built by the colonel in
1917 in Aurora, Ill., and is still a private residence. The colonel rose to
become the owner of the Aurora Gas Light Company, which was started by his
father. Copley led an effort to install electric street lighting in Aurora.
After succeeding in his business ventures, Copley switched careers to focus on
politics and journalism.
The
colonel founded Copley Press early in the 20th century while he held state
level political positions in Illinois. He bought the State Journal in 1927. In
1942, it bought Springfield's afternoon paper, the Illinois State Register.
For years, the two papers maintained separate editorial stances, with the State
Journal tilting Republican and the State Register tilting
Democratic. The two papers merged in 1974 as The State Journal-Register.
In 2007 GateHouse Media of Fairport, N.Y., bought The
State Journal-Register, along with most of Copley's other midwestern titles.
David was 12 when his mother
married Jim Copley, so is this a
marriage photo?
 |
The Copley Family Dynasty: There were three. Jim, 57, died in 1973.
Then there were two. Helen, 81, died in 2004. Then there was one.
David, 60, died in 2012. The Hundred-Year Newspaper Reign fizzled! |
Margaret
Helen Kinney Hunt came to San Diego in late 1951 with her mother from their
home in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. She was a Navy veteran and did clerical jobs and
dairy work. Her marriage of two weeks left her with the name of Hunt and a
pregnancy. She found a job selling tickets for the Santa Fe Railroad. Her son David
was born Jan. 31, 1952. She met someone who knew a newspaperman (word is a
famous editor we all know) which led to a position at the Union-Tribune
Publishing Co. Less than a year later, she was one of James Copley’s three
executive secretaries.
In
1963 James and his wife of 17 years, Jean, separated and they were divorced in
1964. Copley’s two adopted stepchildren by Jean were financially but not
equally taken care of later. In 1965 Helen and James were married.
When
David became master of the Copley Empire, he was described as an enigma. He
addressed the Copley Newspaper Seminar in Borrego Springs once and he assured
the editors that he was intent on producing good newspapers. He realized that
publishing newspapers was a special trust. “I do know that the work of editors
and reporters is what distinguishes this business from a pencil factory. I feel
a responsibility to use my good fortune to move us to an even higher plateau.”
He was a new-born billionaire bachelor with an 18,000 square-foot house he kept
adding onto, a jet plane, a mansion yacht, and a car collection – including a
$300,000-plus Maybach ultra-luxury sedan with curtains for the passenger
compartment. He also owned some DUIs.
David
showed up on social pages of his newspapers, but spent most time in finding
homes for some extra cash. OK, he was a busy philanthropist. He added to the
family name already on the concert hall, the USD Library, and the Kroc-Copley
Shelter.
An
unusual twist of fate is that the Santa Fe Depot where his once destitute
mother sold railroad tickets will house an extension of the Museum of
Contemporary Art San Diego. It’s named the David C. Copley Building. What goes
around comes around. Helen would be proud. After David gave $5 million to Sharp
HealthCare following a heart transplant (He died later of a heart attack), he
was asked: “Why not throw the money at newspapers to make them great papers?”
David replied: “Well, you might spend millions for not much discernible gain in
news gathering.” David instead gave his bucks to build a library, or a theater,
or something else to serve San Diego.
OK, it’s October
1969 and I’m here as editor of the Borrego Sun, replacing Chafin Wallace, who
bounced here from the South Bay Daily Breeze and on to The San
Diego Union. The Borrego Sun is more than just a bi-weekly
newspaper. It yells out James Copley’s loudest contribution to the Borrego
Valley. He was one of three businessmen who subsidized the Borrego Springs
Airline, plus contributions were given to various organizations unknown to most
residents. The Sun wasn’t a money maker, but it was Copley’s contribution to
the integrity of the valley. Jim Copley only entered the Sun building one time
that I know of. He and his life-time help-mate Sonny Bjorseth came in one
morning all smiles. They greeted me and shook hands, and then went to the back
of the office. I saw that they were going downstairs – probably the only
basement in Borrego. Then I heard “I thought you had the key.” “Well, I thought
you had the key.” They came by my desk smiling, a little flustered, and said
“Thank You.” I’d been told that the basement had a climate-controlled area
where paintings and whatever were stored. I forgot it was below me until Jim
and Sonny had stopped by.
Copley’s La Casa del Zorro had a
standing half-page ad in each issue -- one of the reasons Copley bought the
paper. Borrego Springs was also the Copley second home called Happy Days on the
outskirts of the 5-star hotel. A herd of cottages with 2 and 3 bedrooms in
wonderfully landscaped areas was also available for group meetings and
vacations. Jim and Helen spent much of 1973 at Happy Days – their luxurious
estate home -- while he suffered from the effects of cancer of the brain. They
dined daily at La Casa at the same table at the far end in the Butterfield
Dining Room. The walls were filled with eight or more ceiling-high paintings
celebrating the Butterfield Coach route that helped pioneer the western U.S.
Jim would tilt his head and raise a hand at us when my wife and I stopped in
for a weekly lunch – in the cheaper end of the menu.
In
1973 while he was ill, Jim called upon me to speak for him at a Fourth of July
celebration in Borrego. During the speech, I told how I was jogging in
Jerusalem and when I came about a corner, the American flag was fluttering in
front of a U.S. administration building. I stopped and held my breath. For the
first time in my life, I stressed in my heart: “That’s my flag. I’m an
American.” I stood there several minutes and then saluted the flag. I had
saluted the flag many times while in the Marines, but never like this. I said
“Thank you for waving.” A week later I got a letter from Jim saying, “Rex, you
represented me well with your patriotic talk about recognizing the American
flag in Israel. Thanks again.”
How did the rare ringtail
find its way from the Borrego Valley Desert to the San Diego Natural History
Museum?
Well, Ringo the Ringtail had
a great day eating insects and mice, but on the way home he discovered at least
120 horses crossing his path – which is Highway S22 climbing the mountains on
the sunset side of Borrego Springs. Palm Canyon Road going west becomes
Montezuma Valley Road, a more poetic name for S22.
Ringo
didn’t make it to his desert den, which could have been a hollowed cactus or
tree, rock crevice, or another animal’s empty burrow. So, we have a lifeless
ringtail plopped on the blacktop.
My
wife Lynnie and I were heading to our San Diego home and saw a furry creature
on the road. We stopped to investigate and found it didn’t move. Ringo must
have been killed by impact with a vehicle, but his body wasn’t damaged. I
didn’t know what it was, but the bushy tail looked similar to the raccoons I
had as pets on our Nebraska farm when a kid. I put the body in the back of our
station wagon and drove on home. I called the park ranger chief and told him
what I had found. He said it was good a CHP hadn’t stopped me for something and
found the rare creature in my possession. I was happy that I hadn’t been
stopped, but wasn’t really worried because the park ranger was a great contact
for desert stories. And the CHP officer in Borrego knew me also.
I
found out from the ranger that it was a ringtail. He suggested that I contact
the San Diego Natural History Museum to see if they needed one.
I wrapped Ringo in foil and
placed him in my new side-by-side freezer. That was on Friday night. On Monday
I was able to reach the museum director and told him the park ranger said it
was a ringtail. He was very happy to hear one was available. Great! Ringo was
going to have a great home for his second life. He’d have visitors coming out
his ears . .. and his beautiful tail.
We
made arrangements to pick up Ringo on a Tuesday morning. I told him that an
attendant would be there to open the door. On Tuesday afternoon, I got a call
at the Borrego Sun and the director thanked me for making the donation
possible. “But,” he said, “my lab tech wondered about the little frozen bodies
on the same shelf as the ringtail.” “Oh,” I replied. “They were five tailless
kittens born dead. I have a life science major who wanted them for lab study.”
When
Ringo was all prettied up and on display at the museum in Balboa Park, We
received two tickets to view the museum’s proud display of the Borrego Valley
native. Here’s a bit more about ringtails: They are mistakenly called miner’s
cat or ringtail cat, but they definitely aren’t related to cats.
The
ringtail status was elevated in 1986 when it became the state mammal of
Arizona. They weigh up to two pounds and reach 24 inches from nose to toe, with
another 10-12 inches for the striped tail. Ringtails will eat any flesh that
doesn’t eat them first. Some choice foods are mice, woodrats, squirrels,
snakes, lizards, and birds. Predators who love ringtail dinners are bobcats,
coyotes, and great horned owls.
 |
| Snakes doing the
Swedish Waltz in 4/4 time. The tan rattler is like the beauty Rex took to the
Zoo. |
How did a diamondback rattler get a ride from Borrego
Valley to the San Diego Zoo?
In
the cool of the mornings, I liked to jog on the blacktop roads for an hour or
so. Then I walked across the desert floor taking in the beauty of blossoms and
cacti and insects, plus I was also on the watch out for legless critters. This
one morning I came across a diamondback rattler out for an early sidewinding
event. I studied it for a while and then I picked up the snake with my walking
stick. I was about half an hour from my apartment, but had no problem giving
the rattler a ride back on my stick. At home I put it in a gallon pickle jar
and capped it. The big jar was really packed with snake. I called the San Diego
Zoo and was told they’d gladly accept it. So, two days later I had to take some
film to the U-T lab for processing, so it was time for the rattler to say
good-bye to the sparse desert and Hello Zoo with Good Regular Chow. On the way
to San Diego, I let the snake ride shotgun with a seat belt keeping the jar
upright. A snake keeper met me at the zoo and I said Good-by Jar and Snake.
Herr
Reber wrote of driving out a long-tailed beast from his Ramona compound an eon
or so ago . . . maybe two months. I’m not nearly as fast as a jack rabbit but I
eventually hop around to the topic at hand. Just a minute . . . you seem
puzzled? A snake is a beast and it has a long tail. Right so far? Where does
its body start and stop? Where does the tail begin?
Say
we have a snake stretching eight feet from snoot to rattlers. Dr. Seuss may not
agree, but to this Nebraska farm kid, that’s a long-tailed beast.
OK,
Rex, why are you pulling our tail? See the photo above that I labeled as
“Snakes doing the Swedish Waltz.” OK, so I favored the Swedes this time . . .
and they’re not waltzing. No, they’re mating, but don’t let on. It’s a very
poetic and judicious exercise, like swinging and swaying with Sammy Kaye. Their
heads bob and circle about beautifully.
It’s
time to discuss where the tail begins. Here’s the secret: All the “action” is
happening where the body stops and the tail starts. If the serpent is 7 feet
long, maybe a foot of it is the tail. The foot is a tail??? Let’s settle it: If
the snake is not a beast, it’s a monster. Either way, let it have its way.
One
last snake note: Editors of the Copley papers know that photos of snakes were
forbidden. Period. No exceptions. The order came from Jean Copley, James’ first
wife whom he divorced in 1964. I read the ban in the files of the Borrego Sun.
She hated snakes and didn’t want to face ‘em with her breakfast paper.
When I realized the Jim Copley had donated three lowland
gorillas to the San Diego Zoo, I wanted to help out when I had the opportunity
while living in Borrego Springs. So, the stories here tell of the ringtall and
rattler that I hauled out of valley for the benefit of San Diego and its
visitors.
As editor of the Borrego Sun, I was the host for the Copley
Newspaper Seminar for editorial executives. I welcomed the editors and
addressed them this one time about thinking basics for clarity. An
overabundance of compound sentences and $5 words would lose the hurried reader.
Write up from 8th grade and not down from graduate level. And watch particularly
for natural flow. That’s for news, but for opinion page the window is almost
wide open.
In
the photo below Jim Copley is sitting at far end of group, either pushing his
glasses back or hiding his face. I was addressing one of the sessions in May
1971. Food was always exceptional all week at La Casa del Zorro. This one day
Robin Maydeck and I stationed ourselves near the loaded shrimp table.
My wife Lynnie designed this Borrego Sun paperweight and I
presented it to Jim at a Happy Days party. He insisted that a U-T photog take a
photo and give it to my wife. The Copley Ring of Truth is ringing on it. Lynnie
selected the 4-inch smooth stone from the landscaping at the Borrego Sun
building on Christmas Circle.
Ironic Twists:
Jim
and I were both raised in Aurora. For Jim it was Aurora, Ill., and for me it
was Aurora, Neb.
David
Stone, the man who laid out the city of Aurora, Neb., in 1877 named it after
his hometown of Aurora, Ill.
My last issue of the Borrego Sun was dated Oct. 6, 1973.
Jim’s last day of life on Earth was dated Oct. 6, 1973.
---------------------------------------------------
DAVID FARMER writes:
Do
you remember when reporters used to call their sources "sources"?
Then, several years ago, the word became unacceptable.
Editors,
apparently reacting to readers and opinion leaders, declared
"sources" anathema. I guess the term wasn't deemed transparent
enough. I really can't fathom the logic. Did editors and readers think
reporters were hiding unreliable or self-interested people behind that single
word?
The
result, as you'll remember, was some tortured syntax to avoid saying
"sources." A typical construction: "...according to people with
knowledge of the situation who were not cleared to talk to the media." Or
"...a person who asked for anonymity to to speak frankly."
Notice,
by the way, how "sources" morphed into "people" or
"persons."
But
in the past few years, I've noticed just plain "sources" sneaking
back into news stories. Perhaps editors began to realize that a dishonest
reporter could disguise the identity of an unworthy source as easily behind an
elaborate bunch of words as behind one.
Plus,
the circumlocutions sometimes required 8, 10, or more words to indicate what a
single "sources" does. With news holes shrinking, this could be a
genuine factor.
I
was reminded of the situation by a headline in the CNBC website. It attributed
something to "sources." Then, to cover all bases, the story itself
takes both approaches, "The May 1 deadline for steel and aluminum tariff
exemptions for U.S. allies is likely to be extended, according to sources who
have been in discussions with the Trump administration."
The
writer seems worried that we won't believe a source unless we're told his or
her qualifications. Kind of the belt and suspenders school of reporting. At
least it protects us from fake news.
----------------------------------------------------------
REBER: What a party!
Happy Birthday, April 29, to Bob DiVeroli, Sharon Reeves, Pauline Repard and
Rose Wojnar.
------------------------------------------------------------
REBER: Bob Elledge forwards a story
that I find very sad.
BOB ELLEDGE forwards:
REBER: And a related
story, close to home for Daily Aztec alums:
BOB ELLEDGE forwards:
A
919ER forwards:
He’s back!!! U-T’s John Lynch seeking
Tronc takeover.
P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
