Good evening, 919 Gang.
KATHRYN
BALINT writes:
I met Steven De Salvo on July 27, 1984.
A fellow intern at the Los Angeles Times invited me to a nightclub in Westwood to
meet a couple of her journalism friends from USC. One of them was Steven. While
everyone else danced and drank, Steven and I spent the night standing together,
our eyes glued to a television broadcasting live coverage of a horrific event unfolding
just blocks away: a driver had plowed a car onto a crowded sidewalk. (Later, Steven
and I would learn that Joe Hughes was on the scene, covering the death of one person
and the injuries of dozens more.) That night, while chaos flashed across the screen
and music thumped around us, Steven and I bonded through journalism — and curiosity
— from the very first moment.
Later that
year, after I had applied for a job at The San Diego Tribune, Steven and I drove
to San Diego, hoping to find a copy of the newspaper. It was a Sunday, and, naturally,
not a single vending box held one. We ended up at the Mission Valley office, where
we nervously told a guard we were lost and wanted to turn around in the parking
lot. But Steven spotted a dumpster near the employee entrance and, without hesitation,
leapt out of the car. There he was — all 6 feet 4 inches of him — diving into a
trash bin in search of a newspaper for me. I was panicked that the security guard
would throw us off the property, while Steven remained determined and fearless.
He emerged empty-handed, but my first visit to the Mission Valley plant is etched
forever in my memory — and so is Steven’s daring enthusiasm.
At the
end of December 1984, my apartment lease in Orange County ran out, and I was still
waiting to hear whether I had gotten the job in San Diego. I packed my car to drive
back home to Ohio — but Steven and his family came to the rescue. He was back at
USC for his final year, but his family generously welcomed me into their home and
offered me their den couch until I had an answer about the job. What was supposed
to be two weeks became five. Their kindness — his kindness — made all the difference
in my life. I have carried that gratitude with me ever since.
I last
heard from Steven in mid-August. He told me he believed his cancer might have been
caused by breathing in smoke from the 2020 Bobcat Fire. “My very rare cancer, it
is believed, is linked to exposure to volatile organic compounds commonly found
in industrial pollution and, wouldn’t you know it, wildfire smoke,” he wrote in
a message to me. He assured me he was receiving aggressive treatment, though things
were already serious. Even so, I held onto hope.
I was heartbroken
to learn that he entered hospice and then died on November 18. I will always remember
his warmth, generosity, and unwavering sense of adventure — whether watching breaking
news in a nightclub or dumpster-diving to help a friend.
My deepest
sympathies go out to his wife, his children, and all who loved him. The world is
quieter without Steven in it — but I am so grateful that he was part of my world.
JOE HUGHES writes:
During
my 44 years at the Union-Tribune, I was fortunate to connect with so many great
colleagues. Many moved on to other pursuits and, unfortunately, became out of sight,
out of mind. Steven De Salvo was never one of them.
After Steven
left the Evening Tribune, we stayed in touch as his legal career took off and I
continued at the Union-Tribune. We shared a love of baseball and horse racing. He
and his twin brother, Stacey, were always better at picking winners—even though
I was the Evening Tribune’s horse-racing handicapper for Santa Anita, Hollywood
Park, Del Mar, and Caliente earlier in my Trib days.
A few months
ago, we were planning to meet up for the Dodgers’ playoff push at Chavez Ravine
and for a day at the Del Mar races, but Steven’s illness took a turn for the worse
and we had to cancel.
Looking
back, it was inspiring to follow Steven’s career—from his early days as a dogged
newspaper reporter, to his work as an attorney in private practice in Los Angeles,
to his service as a federal prosecutor in San Diego and a trial attorney for the
U.S. Justice Department’s Antitrust Division in Washington, D.C., and finally to
his roles as a deputy attorney general for the State of California and senior deputy
counsel for Los Angeles County.
My one
regret is never having seen Steven in action in the courtroom during one of his
trials or proceedings. Now I’m left only to imagine the passion and drive he brought
to both his life and his career.
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CARL LARSEN writes:
I don’t
remember exactly when I became an old man, but I trace it to these three events:
my physicians suddenly becoming younger than I am, not knowing two-thirds of the
celebrities and entertainers featured in an issue of People magazine, and the sealer:
not being able to name a single Taylor Swift song.
I do have
one suggestion as my years advance — buying a Vons Fresh Pass annual membership
now on sale at half price for $49 until Dec. 9.
You get
unlimited grocery deliveries to your home for the next year for orders over $30.
Best part, deliveries come in a one-hour window so you don’t have to sit at home
waiting all day. The program also has other rewards that I’m still trying to figure
out. I’ve been doing this for more than a year, and they only have screwed up my
order once.
Now, if
you like to squeeze the Charmin or bananas, or inspect the meat, this may not be
for you. But on the other hand, I no longer have to stumble back to my car with
mega rolls of paper towels and toilet tissue and six packs of Firefly Ridge chardonnay.
I always
say that by using Fresh Pass I now avoid an automatic $10 fee in gas and maintenance
and insurance prices when I start up my car for a grocery run.
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BRIAN CLARK
writes:
The Gales
of November are upon us here in the Great Lakes region. You might remember those
are the winds that took down the Edmund Fitzgerald and her crew of 29 men in 1975. Just a day or two ago, there were 39-foot-tall
waves in Lake Michigan. That's no typo, I
did indeed mean to write 39-foot-tall waves.
My sailboat is 30 feet long and the mast
rises to about 45 feet. But a 39-foot wave would tower more than 30 feet above my
deck. And, if I were foolish enough to be
out in such weather, a wave like that smashing down from above would more than likely
overwhelm my vessel, capsize it and break the mast and boom into pieces. Which is
why all commercial boat traffic was stopped for several days earlier this week and
even the big tankers were told to find shelter from the giant seas.
I've sailed in 10-foot waves with winds
blowing 45 mph in the Canary Islands off southern Morocco and that was more than
a little terrifying. But a 39-footer, no thank you very much. I'm glad my boat is put away for the winter, its
engine and bilge winterized with antifreeze and stored in a dry and solid barn.
Here's the warning:
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KEN STONE writes:
Five months
after being laid off at the Petaluma Argus-Courier, former U-T photographer Crissy
Pascual has a new gig — helping start a news site in Petaluma.
On FB,
she writes:
“I did
a thing, y’all!
“I’m so
proud to announce the creation of a new independent nonprofit news source for Petaluma.
Fellow
journalist Jennifer Sawhney and I have been
building Petaluma Voice.
We’re just
two locals who believe that information is a right, not a privilege.
That’s
why Petaluma Voice will be FREE.
That’s
right - NO PAYWALL!
We want
to empower residents by giving them trustworthy tools they need to make important
decisions.
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REBER: Tonight we
salute Gerry Braun and wish him a Happy Birthday on Nov. 29.
