Bob‘s Corner
San Diego 'Evening Tribune'
From our weekly issue dated February 24, 2010
Some 46 or so years of newspaper work has provided plenty of ammunition for reminiscing in columns like this. Gives me a chance to dust off memories and recall what it was like in newsrooms way before the advent of PCs.
My earliest recollections are of the former San Diego “Evening Tribune“ newsroom at 919 Second Ave., just off Broadway. The room was painted with what can only be described (by me) as bilious green paint. Some would call it institutional green. Whatever: It was used extensively.
It was a large room. Had to be, as it contained the Society Section reporters (all women); the Sports Dept. (all men); general assignment, beat reporters and rewrite men (all males except for an occasional woman); city desk with city editors and assistant city editors, plus managing editor; the telegraph desk (for wire service stories) with the telegraph editor and his assistant; and the photo desk (one guy). There also was the rim, a horseshoe-shaped table with a slot man in the opening, nearly surrounded by the proofreaders, who also wrote headlines.
There was a constant hum of activity with the clattering of manual typewriters, which lessened on nightside, when a smaller staff worked from 2:30 to 10 p.m., although we usually bagged at least an hour of overtime. There also was a copy boy shift from midnight to 6:30 a.m., when you were the only person on the entire third floor. That“s fuel for another story.
Most of us smoked cigarettes and drank a lot of coffee. It seemed to be an occupational hazard, along with the stress of meeting absolute deadlines for five editions.
On the fringes of the newsroom were the photo lab, with individual rooms equipped with developing trays and enlargers for each photographer; offices for columnists; the executive editor“s office; and the editor“s office guarded by his executive secretary, a formidable woman who probably had been a prison guard.
There also was the wire room, filled with clattering teletype machines. It also had desks for the reporters from AP and UPI. I loved the atmosphere; it was exciting in a real sense: clattering typewriters, telephones ringing, reporters and photogs coming and going; just a controlled chaos all aimed at producing an informative, interesting newspaper. Tension on a deadline.
Oh, I forgot about a far corner of the newsroom; a site with three desks crammed together to accommodate: The copy boys. That“s where I started. I was a gofer. I fetched coffee, cleaned and refilled glue pots; sharpened pencils; ran photos to the engravers across the street; picked up the “zincs“ with the photo images on them; ran down to Composing. God, it was great to be involved in such a heady operation. Confusion, but with direction.
Through the years since becoming a newspaperman I“ve covered plane crashes, train crashes, shipwrecks, car crashes, trials, homicides, suicides, wildfires, structure fires; lots of death and destruction, including city council meetings (an inside joke). I“ve been impressed, depressed and distressed. I“ve covered power boat and yacht racing, surfing championships, spelling bees, science fairs, high school sports, ship arrivals and departures, memorial services, parades, circuses, and all sorts of meetings.
It“s not over yet. Just had to share some recollections. It felt good. Probably won“t be able to handle another 46 or so years, but I“ll take what“s left. However, don“t expect to see my rooms painted institutional green.
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