Memories of a newspaperman
Recently I had the opportunity to
visit the newspaper where I began my career as a newspaperman. Passing through
the main double glass doors of the downtown Herald Building I experienced a
sense of profound sadness. Everything had changed. On the right of the foyer
was a business replacing what was once the classified department and on the
right was another general business that once was the display advertising area.
Down the corridor that once led to the newsroom was another business not
related to what once housed the editorial newsroom. All was gone and only a
feeling of loneliness remained.
I remember as if it was yesterday
walking into the “back shop” of the Bellingham Herald. It was 1955 and as a
young Army veteran of the Korean War, I was headed for an interview with the printing
shop foreman, Mike Westby. As a 40 per cent service connected disabled vet the
Veterans Administration said I qualified for a training program under what was
then known as “Public Law 16” specially designed for disabled vets. Whatever
that meant was of no concern; all I wanted was to learn the newspaper business
and this was my opportunity. I didn’t know what to expect at this meeting and
couldn’t help be apprehensive. As a result of my military leg injury I didn’t know
if this would be a disadvantage so I decided to say nothing about it. It was a
good thing since composing room and ad makeup printers were expected to be on
their feet all day. Recuperating from a shattered broken leg might disqualify
me for a job.
Westby
gruffly wasted no time interviewing me; looking me over he asked a few
perfunctory questions and then simply said to show up at 7 a.m. the next
morning. Thus began a six year printing apprenticeship and a love affair with
the printed word that has lasted all these years.
Showing up the next morning I was
greeted by a journeyman printer Fred Goodwin who was given the responsibility
for my training. Fred was an amiable man in his late 40’s, medium build,
wearing glasses and slightly hunched over. He was dedicated to his craft and I
quickly learned there wasn’t anything about the newspaper printing trade he
didn’t know. And so became a lasting friendship and with patience he introduced
me to the world of newspapering.
The
first thing he did was give me an apron and a makeup tool. The tool was a thin
blade and was used to insert spacers between the slugs of type to tighten the
column in the page chases. This I learned was called “justification.” From the
editorial room each page for the day’s edition was penciled out on a sheet of
paper—ads were dummied in, pictures marked out and lead stories assigned. As an
afternoon newspaper Page 1 was held to the last minute with the expectation of
any late break news article. As each galley of type came off the linotype
machines, proofs were taken, read and corrections made. From there the type was
taken and assembled atop of carts referred to as a turtle (also referred to as
a “truck”), and as if by magic the page began to take on a life of its own. Each
truck held a full-page metal frame that the type would be placed. After the ads
were positioned in the frame thin metal rules were inserted dividing the
columns. The Herald then consisted of 11 columns and it took a lot of news to
fill them. The classified pages usually ran four pages and “double truck” grocery
advertisement pages ran each Wednesday and were the norm.
Over
the early years a tradition developed; Page 4 was always designated the
“Editorial page.” Unlike today it was truly an opinion page. The man in charge
was an 80-year old newsman William Caston Carver simply referred to as “Mr.
Carver.” His career started with the Herald in 1912 and he remained as managing
editor until his retirement in 1958. Every day carried a punching editorial
covering everything that had an effect on the community. Politicians had no
cover when “Mr. Carver” drew his sights on national, state or local legislation
or questionable conduct. Letters to the Editor were encouraged and many heated
battles between readers took prime space. The Herald was everything a newspaper
should be and readers were fervent clients and proud of their “hometown”
newspaper.
Along
with Mr. Carver’s editorials the paper also ran daily columns written by two great
award winning syndicated journalists, Hal Boyle and Jim Bishop. Both had a
profound effect on my desire to become a journalist. Boyle, a Pulitzer Prize
winner, was hailed as one of the best war correspondents during the Second
World War Two and later Korea. He, like his friend Ernie Pyle, was often seen
at the front lines sharing the hardships and danger of the infantrymen. At age
65 he was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease and died shortly later.
Bishop’s
career intrigued me; here was a famous, prolific journalist who authored 21
award winning books, was manager and editor of several prestigious newspapers
and a war correspondent who achieved such success without ever going past the eighth
grade! He never saw the inside of either a high school or college as a student
yet his writing was pure genius. At the end of his career in 1985, his columns
ran in 700 daily newspapers and were an inspiration to everyone who read them.
The only explanation I have is talent exceeds a pedantic education. His real
education came from newspapering.
Everything
in the shop had a name and a reason. One of the most basic things learned that
first day was how to read type upside down. Actually I found this an easy task;
looking down at the galley of type backwards from top to rear and reading from
left to right was simple. By the end of the day I could read a column of type
as easily and quickly as reading a printed page. Another essential tool was a
“pica pole.” The “pole” was both a standard
foot-long ruler graduated in inches with the other side a rule marked off in
picas used in typographical measure.
When the bell rang promptly at 7
a.m., the atmosphere became electric. There was the cacophony of the Linotype
machines clattering and banging, saws whirling, turtles holding the metal page
cases pushed into position and the hustle
of doors swinging open and shut between the composing room and the editorial
room. The rush for putting out the days’ first edition was on.
In those days the printing
profession was under the auspices of the International Typographical Union. Their
program for apprentices required completing an extensive correspondence program
augmented by practical hands-on training. Working with the correspondence program
in conjunction with actual hands-on work was a perfect combination. As days
passed, and with the assistance of journeymen, it wasn’t long before I could do
tasks as making up pages, correcting galleys and running proofs unassisted.
Adjacent to the composing room was
the editorial room. Here was the heart of the newspaper. Sitting behind his desk
and typewriter littered with pages of news copy was the city editor Bill Fowler.
Bill was a remarkable newspaperman and gifted writer. I can still picture him
editing copy with his ever present pipe clinched between his teeth banging away
at his typewriter racing towards the deadline—he never missed one.
At
the “wire desk” was George Boynton, another fine newspaperman. Here George
reviewed and processed all of the stories pertinent for publication from the Associated
Press and United Press International. It was his job to sort through the reams
of copy and select stories that had national interest to the community. The
copy was transmitted by wire and covered everything from hard news to sports
and feature stories. Along with the printed copy a perforated tape of the story
was also manufactured. This tape would then be rushed to Joe Henley in the back
shop. Joe’s two Linotype machines were equipped with an attachment adapted to
run the tape that would automatically set the Linotype into action. Joe
monitored these special units and could grind out more copy than a human hand
could ever do. Once the type was set and a proof made, the copy was handed over
to the proof desk. Here proof readers would correct the copy for mistakes and
sent back to one of the Linotype operators for needed corrections. The
correction slugs and copy was then sent to the composition table and the makeup
printer would make the final corrections.
Local
copy consisted of stories ranging from the mundane to hard news events covered
by three street reporters; Steve Kirtz, Eddie Griffith and Glen Larson. All
three had specific areas of coverage; Eddie covered mainly police and fire,
Glen city hall, city council and local politics and anything else he could dig
up. Steve wrote about schools, the college and other stories related to
education. A few years later Steve left the Herald and went to work for Western
Washington State College in their public relations department. Just a short time
later he died much too young from a heart attack. Eddie became a special friend
and it was he who spurred my desire to become a reporter.
Like
my hero Jim Bishop, I never attended Journalism School and it was much later after
I enjoyed a successful career as a reporter, editor and finally a managing
editor that I finally returned to college.
In
addition to their “beats” this team of seasoned writers also had the
responsibility of covering various public meetings as school board, water and
sewer district meetings and anything else that lent news to the community. In
those days a fatal car crash rated a page Page1 story and a picture. Today you
would be lucky to find the story on page three.
And
there were the social pages, better known as “the society pages.” This section
covered the community social events as weddings, engagement and fashion and
event pictures. This was a particularly popular section that covered everything
from garden club meetings, theatre performances at the schools and college,
fashion pieces and much more. The women of the community loved the coverage!
The
sports section was headed by Walt Linsley a great writer and fanatic golfer! Walt
covered all of the area’s sports events from high school to what was then
simply known as “Western.” This institution was later to become designated as
Western Washington State University. Sport’s was Walt’s love and was reflected
in his copy. He had the knack of covering sports events and converting them into
words painting a vivid picture of the action that gave the reader the
impression that, in their minds eye, they were actually there.
The photography department consisted staff
photographer Jack Carver, son of Mr. Carver, who over the years garnered award
after award for his marvelous work. Jack “shot” with a 4x5 Speed Graphic camera
that was standard for those times. He had a gifted eye and his photographs
captured the beauty or tragedy of the subject regardless of the difficulty.
Many of his pictures are now housed in the Bellingham Museum capturing many of
the most historic events of Bellingham.
But
by the mid-1960 this all changed. Technology and computers made their impact
that replaced all we had known. Offset printing came into vogue, “paste up”
pages became the norm. If you were five years old and could wield a set of scissors
you would be considered a “natural” for such work! The beauty of “hot metal”
printing quickly passed into the dust of history and an entirely new concept of
printing took over. In the basement of the building was the huge web press that
once added to the excitement of publication but no more. Instead, today, the
newspaper isn’t printed in the building at all. It is farmed out to an off-set
press in a town 30 miles from the Herald Building.
Today
the Herald is no longer owned by the family that started it all. Even the building
was sold to the Western Washington State University. The paper now is only a
shell of its former glory. Rather than occupying the entire main floor it is
now confined to the second floor. What once consisted of a reliable news outlet,
much to the pride of the community, it is now a sounding board of subjective
coverage. Instead of a full page 11 column paper it has been reduced to a five
column tabloid. The “who, what, when where” seems to be a practice replaced by
“How do I feel about the subject, can I write the story to reach the emotions
of the reader?” And there is also the left leaning view of coverage
particularly national news.
Leaving the building was like
leaving part of my life. The times past were exuberating and rewarding then but
today I couldn’t reach the front doors fast enough!
