In appreciation of newspapers - but not a memoir

Murphys, CA -- I hear that newspapers are dead or dying, and I know that change is the one sure thing in our lives. And few things have changed as much as newspapers in the past five to ten years.
But I still love newspapers. Not just the abstract idea of newspapers and their worth to society, but the look and feel and even the smell of ink on newsprint.
I can get just as irritated as the next person at the failures of newspapers, the greed of their owners, and the idea that we readers should pay more for less.
But I really love the newspapers that blessed my life with challenge, adventure, a life-time occupation, support for my family, and great, interesting and quirky friends.
Here's a personal history of newspapers where I worked, grew up, matured and eventually retired.
The Atlanta Journal was the biggest paper in Georgia when I started there as an intern in 1961, a summer of turmoil and excitement, and it schooled me in essentials I never forgot. My teachers were some of the best reporters and writers in the South, all keen on finding out what was really going on and letting the public know in crisp clear language. 

Ralph McGill was the Journal-Constitution's voice for morality

I came back to the Journal as a reporter after graduation in 1962, and I still can't think of a better place to be a reporter (and a bachelor) than in a big changing city on a great afternoon newspaper. Where else can you cover a Klan Rally on Stone Mountain, Martin Luther King Senior preaching, a governor's campaign and expose crooked county officials and get paid for it.
The Army required me next, but even then I worked nights as a cop reporter for the Columbus Ledger-Enquirer.  I made enough money moon-lighting to buy a Gibson guitar,  and went back to being a full time soldier at Fort Benning.
When I ended my tour, The Miami Herald -- then the biggest and best paper in a booming state -- called me to come work in their bureau system. My long-dead grandfather had worked there as a printer.
I was lucky beyond belief to be assigned to the Herald bureau on the East Coast closest to Cape Canaveral where world-changing events were in the works, and lucky to have editors who left me alone (so long as I produced stories, which I did every day) and trusted me.

The Herald's Bureau staff in 1966, with spouses

 Then in 1966 I was lured away from the Herald by a guy named Al Neuharth, who convinced me his brand new newspaper (to be called TODAY) was some sort of holy quest and probably a charitable effort at the same time. Whatever was true, he offered me a chance to report full time on the then-booming manned space program, the time and travel to do it well, and a $10 raise.
I got engaged, accepted the new job and they gave me a week off to get married.
I was at the TODAY Newspaper (now re-named Florida TODAY) as Aerospace Writer, my very first title, and ended up writing about one of the biggest accomplishments in human history -- men on the moon  -- for the Gannett chain of newspapers, a chain that grew into the biggest in the nation. I was even put on the corporate payroll, a nice way for the local editor to keep his costs down. And because I was in the right place, freelance writing offers came in almost daily from everywhere from the Washington Post Magazine to Paris Match.
As the manned space program wound down after Apollo ended, I was allowed to do more general science reporting, including ocean exploration, and that led me to the Virgin Islands, the Bahamas and elsewhere.
In early 1971 the company decided to open a Gannett News Service Bureau in the state capitol of Tallahassee, and  I was tapped for that job. All of a sudden I was back to covering politics, but on a larger scale, traveling the state and the Southeast to cover news for seven newspapers. That led me to the political conventions of 1972 (McGovern and Nixon), and on the road with Southern governors named Wallace and Carter.
When you work for Gannett you never really unpack, so it was not a surprise that at the end of 1972 I was asked to go to the Fort Myers News-Press to work with my good friend  Executive Editor Bob Bentley as his Managing Editor, and sooner than I expected as his replacement.
It does not do the paper and its people justice to skim over those years, but understand we were building and growing and doing our best work. In my early and mid 30s, I was leading a staff of bright and hard-working people. Those surviving, not on book tours and sober enough to travel show up for reunions almost 40 years later.
One of the verities of the newspaper business is that all editors serve at the pleasure of their publisher. I survived one publisher, but his replacement wanted an editor more cooperative with his business interest (and willing to ignore his greed).
I escaped to a sabbatical year at the University of Michigan as a National Endowment for the Humanities Journalism Fellow, and ended up after that as executive editor of the Marietta Times in Ohio. It was small town newspapering, more of a team playing together than workers. Everyone was underpaid and overworked and had a good time.
After 14 years with Gannett Newspapers,  and  moving six times, it was clear that a packed suitcase (and lots of publisher changes) would always be a requirement, no matter what your family situation. So when an unexpected call came from California to consider a different company, we put aside our West Coast biases and took a look.
I never really had heard much about the "Bee newspapers," much less considered working for a paper with an insect name. But when I checked out the man who made the call -- C.K. McClatchy -- his reputation was pure gold in West Coast journalism. He was president and editor of the company, but wanted an executive editor in Modesto.  He offered professional integrity, no publishers in the system (I would report to him as CEO), and the first truly decent salary I had ever been offered.
It seemed too good to be true, but it was. I became the executive editor of The Modesto Bee, which turned out to be the longest tenured job ever for me, and a great opportunity.
During C.K.'s time the only problem I ever had was worrying why no one ever called from corporate to check up on Modesto's newsroom, or the content of the paper. I finally got up my courage to ask him and he told me he hired me to run the paper, not to be bugged by folks in the headquarters in Sacramento.

I was privileged to be in Modesto through boom and bust times, but mostly during times of growth and expansion. The staff size doubled over the years, and even through numerous changes (the company's expansion, public stock being offered, several changes in the general manger's post, and the untimely death of C.K. while out jogging) we were always able to do the kind of honest journalism  he had established.
Change is the only constant in newspapers, and after 18 years as executive editor the company converted to a publisher top-down system, and the new publisher wanted a new editor.
I was offered a chance to go back to writing as Ombudsman for The Sacramento Bee.   We left our long-time Modesto home, friends, church and neighborhood and moved into downtown Sacramento -- no commute required.  I traded suits and ties and ten-hour days in six-day weeks for more relaxed garb, normal working hours for the first time in almost 40 years, and the job of being the readers' representative.
I wrote a column about the strengths and weaknesses of the newspaper, and rediscovered the joy of writing. I maintained the joy of talking with people -- both readers and staff -- about what makes good journalism.
In my new spare time we took up sailing, which has led to all sorts of good times and friends.
Finally, 43 years after walking into that first newspaper job, I decided to step aside, try new things, and give other people a chance to be as lucky as I had been.

It was an accident that I retired just before the industry began to collapse.

I was one of the lucky people in many ways.

How many people you know get to work their entire career with people they trust?

How many people get look back with affection at every place they worked, and recall it with fondness and a sense of satisfaction?

 My friend and mentor John Quinn, a great American editor, was right when he said working for a newspaper is the most fun you can have with your clothes on.

My friend and mentor C.K. McClatchy, a great American newspaper owner and editor, was right when he said newspapers owe the public uncompromised honesty and independence  from the influence of anyone who wants to hide the truth.

 I still love newspapers.

Now newspapers are going digital. I always wanted to be cremated and have my ashes mixed into the giant inkwell of black ink that prints the words on the pages of your newspaper. That won't happen.

 I still love newspapers.




   

Irish Music in Murphys

Murphys, Ca-- A Celtic band will present the first in a series of concerts by regional musicians  at the historic First Congregational Church this Sunday afternoon.
"Cooking with Turf" will play beginning at 2 p.m. Sunday at the sanctuary at the corner of Church and Algiers streets, one block uphill from the Murphys Hotel. Refreshments will be served at intermission. A donation of $7 will be asked for at the door with the proceeds going to the musicians.
The series of concerts is sponsored by the church as a community outreach, and to provide the talented pool of local and regional musicians an opportunity to perform close to home. The band members in "Cooking With Turf" come from the Mother Lode and nearby valley towns, and play in venues from the Bay Area to the foothills. They specialize in traditional Irish and Scottish tunes.
The first congregation in Murphys was founded at the same site in 1853, and the old sanctuary building is pointed out as part of the weekly historic tours given by the local museum.
The schedule for later concerts is not yet established, but plans include music by groups that perform classics, jazz, vocal ensembles and individual performers. For inquiries about future performances contact the church office at  209-728-3141 or coordinator Sanders LaMont at 209-890-3172.

One of those dreaded Christmas letters

Merry Christmas from our house to your house
**
I will eventually mail a few Christmas cards. but since it is Christmas Eve and I have not started, here's a report on our year.

It has been quite a year. I won’t try to cover it all in one letter. You’ll have to come visit us to get a fuller version of the story.

We started 2012 in our cabin in Camp Connell where we have been living for the past six years or so. While we were staying in a rental unit below the snow, our Realtor and friend called to say she had an unusual house for us to look at down the mountain in Murphys, Ca. It turned out to be two 80-year-old houses, on one piece of property, both needing work. So, of course, we bought them.

We moved into our new/old home at 340 Bret Harte Drive in late March as soon as we had three feet of water pumped out of the basement, and then started to work. The months since then have been  near-endless chores, repairs, renovations and contractors.

Fortunately, the larger house was in reasonable shape, though stripped clean, and Pat and I started making the changes we wanted or needed. The biggest initial challenge was furnishing a large house after living in a small cabin. The first of many miracles happened when friends, both old and new, discovered they had furniture they no longer needed, or did not have room for. We can never repay the kindnesses we were granted, but we will surely spend years paying it forward.

The smaller house next door was a disaster, but after  seven months of hard work and buckets of money our son Zack and Granddaughter Katie (and Rusty the dog) moved in, and are now our next door neighbors.
And our new/old home is very near daughter Ruth, her husband Brian, and fast-growing grandchildren Delaney and Connor.

Both houses still need some work, but thanks to many kind friends and workers we are in, and happy.

We are near our church, good friends, poker buddies and best bakery in California.

God has blessed us every one. Come see us.

Sanders & Pat

Progress Report

Murphys, Ca --  This blog is back from the dead -- or at least inactive -- for the past six months.
We've been a little busy.
At last report we had bought two 80-year-old houses in Murphys, in need of work and furnishings.
The living room was ripped up as the floors were being worked on. The bathroom had no working sink.
The plumbing was doubtful.
We had few lights, as everything had been stripped.
The smaller house was uninhabitable, and we had to consider demolishing it.
And we had almost no furniture.

Well, that has changed a lot, thanks to the incredible help, work and contributions from a village full of friends.

The Family Room seen from the kitchen. 

The Dining Room is in the background, table covered with Christmas stuff.

From the counter looking at the former breakfast nook, now a spot for dishes and local wines.

                           The Living Room, with restored hardwood floors, places to sit,
                                     and stocking hung by the chimney with care.

 The downstairs bathroom, now including a re-plumbed working sink, mirror, lights etc.

 An office in work. That's a poster of my friend the late Bob Maynard on the wall.

And across our shared drivway, Zack happily working on his Subaru by his new/old home. New fences are in place for the dog, just lacking gates.

Our master bedroom is essentially done, except for pictures on the wall and the guest bedroom is sparse but useable. The spare bedroom has become Pat's exercise and music room.

Some other things have changed since the last report:
The heat works, and we have air conditioning.
The toilets flush, and they actually connect to the sewer.
The asbestos roof is replaced, and gutters installed.
The stucco is repaired, and the one-story house painted inside and out.
We have lights in ever room, and appliances cabinetry in the kitchen, and washer/dryer in the utility room.
The basements in both houses stay dry, most of the time, thanks to brand new sump pumps.
 We have planted five trees and numerous bushes and ornamental plants, and hundreds of bulbs.

Credit for all the contributions of furnishings and labor will come later. We are considering setting up a plaque in bronze to honor the wonderful sharing we have experienced.

And we still are finding some surprises, like circuit breakers that pop regularly, slow drains, still-leaking basements, and places that flood when it rains hard.

But you get the idea.

We are home for Christmas.

Progress Report in Photos

Murphys, Ca -- A quick look at the progress on fixing up our new/old home.

The downstairs bathroom needed tile (done) baseboard (in work) a new sink (bought from a neighbor's yard for $20) towel and toilet paper racks (done) a shower curtain rod (in work) a new mirror (still looking) move the cabinet (still thinking) and maybe a new toilet. And then we will call the plumber back. 

 

The once incomplete kitchen cabinetry, including electrical and installation of the  microwave, fan and new drawers, was finished off by our friend and master cabinet maker Skip Sharp.

 We  have a drainage problem so we installed a new French Drain on top of the new water pipes, using the trench Andy Glessman dug.

 The living room had a large section of ugly tile cemented over the old oak floors, so we tore it out and are having it restored, plus a new stone hearth. We expect to get this part of the house back mid-week.

 The last appliance installed was the in-counter oven which had been sitting in the floor serving as an island for a week or so.  The kitchen is actually complete.

Furnishing a four bedroom house has proved to be a challenge, but we are adept at garage and estate sales. So far we have had a nice sofa and carpet donated by the Grassmeyers, purchased three good carpets from the Catholic Church Rummage sale, bought another sofa from the Humane Society and one from the Masonic lodge, and found a good chair and twin beds for a guest room at a moving sale. We've had lots of other items given to us, or purchased inexpensively, through the kindness of friends and neighbors.

One of my pals from the trail crew at the state park, and his wife, have given us a complete bedroom suite.

We have purchased a new bed and a dining table and chairs from the local furniture store, and are negotiating with folks to buy window coverings for 15 large windows. The first estimate was $12,000, so we decided not to do that!

No matter what the status of the fix-up, we stil take a little time for music.

 Pat on her hammered dulcimer in the in-progress living room.

Me and George Haskel rehearsing for a benefit for Harmony Ranch.

Old House, New Home

Murphys, Ca -- We had been almost casually looking for a little house down the hill from our cabin home, a place we could escape to when the winter snows get too deep (as they did last year).

Our Realtor friend Carmela call on a Thursday, we looked at the property that Friday, made an offer that night and closed within 30 days. I think that was a month ago.

The pace has been fast ever since.

But first, a description:
House Number One (I'll explain that later) where we currently live with plans someday for adequate furniture, is a two story home built 80 years ago to house a doctor and his family, and maybe his office. The original house was built in the 1930s as part of a San Joaquin County Tuberculosis Sanatorium, a state-run place in the Golden Hills of California away from the miasma of the Valley winters and the heat of the summers. 

Flowers, stone and stucco

The house has been expanded through the years to about 2,200 square feet, a lot of fixups had been done, but it still has some interesting characteristics and challenges.  Murphys has transformed meanwhile into a tourist destination featuring more than 20 wine tasting rooms, several high end places to eat,  music somewhere every weekend night, and the world's best bakery about five blocks from our home.

We have polished oak floors in every room, white oak in the older part and red oak in the newer section.  The ceilings are coved, cabinets built in,  and  the walls are plaster over lathe.

Built-ins and a wine rackThe new dining table

The roof is nearly new.

The kitchen cabinets are all new, as are the polished concrete counter tops. The windows are new too. and everything had a fresh coat of paint (Real Estate Neutral for color).

The heating system was brand new.

The bathrooms had new fixtures and new sculptured concrete showers.

Best of all, there is a yard full of oaks and cedars and Catawba, lots of flowers, and a hundred foot tall Giant Sequoia right across the street in an undeveloped lot.

Our Neighborhood Sequoia

We have a three car detached garage, the biggest in our fairly long home-owning lives.

On the challenge side, you could add "but not completely finished" after every plus. For example, all appliances had been stripped out and the cabinets not completed. All light fixtures were gone, including ceiling lights and fans. When we opened the caps in the ceiling over the electrical wires, it spat sparks at us. The heat did not work because the gas pipes leaked like a sieve, and the air conditioning system  was never actually installed. The garage doors are stuck shut.

Pat taking a deserved break

The plumbing had been hand tightened, so sinks leaked.

The lovely new stone patio was cracked from the concrete settling, and the shade cover was never installed, just footings in place.

The fancy heater insert made for the fireplace was missing.

The plants had not been cared for in two years or so, so we had a riot of greenery when Spring showed up.

And two days after we paid for a home inspection we had the biggest rain storm of the year, and the basement was slowly filling with water. Someone removed the sump pump.

 In other words, this is a handyman's dream and we are having the time of our lives.

Some work required

With the exception of a few surprises, we knew what we were getting into: a great old house that needs a lot of love and care.

From Day One friends and family have helped with the important stuff.  My son-in-law spent every spare minute for a week chasing down every gas leak and fixing them all in time for us to have a working heat system on cool mornings. He also was on emergency call when the basement flooded, and helped with the pumping out chores. He has every skill needed, and I just regret he needs his day job to support his wife and my hungry grandchildren.

My cabin neighbor Dave showed up and fixed most of the electrical stuff, and various others have consulted, helped, or have signed up for next month's projects.

Our young friend Skip whom we've known since he was in high school in Modesto finished off the kitchen cabinetry, including amazing custom work.

Friends Emily and Judy showed up early with yard tools and high energy to help get the jungle outside under control. Mary came and loaned us lamps so we could have some light.
Kelly and Tracey and George and Andy were available to do a lot of the hard stuff, like making seven or eight trips to the dump with debris and garbage pulled out of the basement and and the yard, cleaning windows and polishing floors, fixing plumbing problems, and cleaning everything from top to bottom. Diana brought us a meal, and Dave and Meg gave us a plant.

Andy digging

Other friends provided endless support.

And we have met a lot of skilled contractors, eager to help.  We are on a first name basis with plumbers, electricians, air conditioning folk and a wood floor expert. 

We welcome almost daily the chance to take a break to give guided tours to neighbors and friends who drop by, curious to see what we are up to.

Pat and I have been busy working and buying and discovering stuff we need, and what we don't, for several weeks now.

I have changed every lock, installed sump pumps, sprayed bleach on mold, and found I am not too old to put on knee pads and crawl through the buggy crawl-space to see what I can discover. (Yes, I wear eye protection and a hepa-filter breathing mask when exploring the unknown.)
 
The final appliance (a built-in oven) is due to arrive next week, as is the tile man who will rework the bathroom floors.

Furniture at last!

We bought a new bed and dining table from a local furniture store, and have been haunting Craigslist, thrift stores (a sofa), yard sales (a like-new recliner), non-profit sales (side tables), and estate and garage sales.

I have researched French Drain Construction, wood restoration and stucco work. Pat has spent hours researching ratings on appliances, measuring toilet seats, planning her garden, and trying to figure out how to cover windows that are open to the street immediately in front of the house.  We have a budget (I'll let you know how THAT works out in six months.)

The cashiers at Lowes know us well, and we expect to be on a first-name basis by next week.

We entered a new phase this morning: Pat spent the day in Sonora returning items we purchased that did not fit, or work out. We've learned to keep receipts and packaging.

The kitchen works, The bed is in place. The windows are covered (temporarily), the plumbing works, and we have a place to sit and lights to read by. Oh yes, and the biggest TV in our lives and high speed internet.

Tomorrow, we are taking the day off.

Then Monday, it's back at it.

And the next blog will talk about House Number Two.

Bob Bentley, journalist

Camp Connell, Ca -- Bob Bentley was buried yesterday back in his Southern hometown of Greenwood, South Carolina.

He changed my life for the better, and I will not forget what he did for me and many others.
He wrote his own obituary, found at  Bob's obit . It was typical of Bob not to leave any detail to chance.

We met almost 50 years ago when we were both with the Miami Herald. Bob was a copy editor and a youthful manager, and I was reporter assigned to the area around Cape Canaveral.

I left the Herald the next year, and one year later he showed up to take over as editor of the Today Newspaper near Cape Canaveral where I worked. It is now called Florida Today,  and at the time was test bed for what became the nation's largest newspaper. He was 29 years old, unknown outside of his South Carolina hometown and Florida East Coast newspapers.

Astronaut Alan Shepard left a microscopic copy of that newspaper's report on Apollo 11 on the surface of the moon, something Bob was extremely proud of.

Before he was done he helped build up six successful newspapers from Florida to California by applying his great judgment, innovative skills and by working incredibly long hours. He was apolitical, but suffered fools from both parties poorly when they ignored the needs of the common people.

He knew how to hire the best and the brightest young journalists, and keep them excited about each new day.

He lured top young professionals to Florida by promising them sunny beaches, cold beers and good times, plus a chance to work with a group of colorful characters out to make the world a better place.

Novelist Randy Wayne White was hired by Bentley while White was working as a lineman climbing poles for the utility company. At least six other staff members he hired during his Florida days have published novels or successful non-fiction books. Several of us went on, after a few years under Bob's mentoring, to become editors of daily newspapers.

Foreign Correspondent Susan Taylor Martin was his county government reporter whom Bob defended quite successfully against a religious zealot who happened to be a Florida elected official.

Photographer/artist Bob Ferguson was an early hire, and a life-long friend.
Ferguson had this to say in a sad e-mail to friends: "I am going to miss his baritone voice, pencil editing of correspondence and writing, his love of gossip, his devotion to sports and the Game Cocks in particular. His love of South Carolina and grits, scars on the belly to prove it, and his passion for his friends. His love and appreciation of women, and his commitment to his wife Susan and his kids, Robby and Reid. All of us will miss you, Bob Bentley!"

Graduates of his newsrooms still fill key slots at newspapers from the New York Times to Los Angeles, from Columbia, South Carolina, to Bakersfield, Ca.

 One of our colleagues from those days now blogs (pro-guns and anti-Obama) from his Oklahoma mini-farm. He remembers Bob this way: "The sheer joy and camaraderie of newspapering was never quite the same for any of our crew before Bob arrived and after he moved on. "We work hard and we play hard," Bob was fond of saying, and indeed we did. Bob Bentley was a brilliantly imaginative innovator, a personnel genius, a gifted writer, a genuinely unforgettable character and one of my dearest friends."

Under Bob's editorship our pro-gun zealot worked quite happily alongside a young pot-smoking hippie from Kansas who never, as far as we could tell, cut his hair, and a tough liberal New York City veteran newswoman whom he talked into coming South to make a difference. He brought us all together.

 He was often a  bachelor in his younger years, and with basketball-player build, tall good looks,  Southern charm, curly hair and big smile he was always popular with everyone except the politicians his newspapers helped keep honest.

His obituary says this:

"He was editor of six daily newspapers, a news executive on two others.

"Bentley was a national pioneer in the logical, consistent positioning of the news. From obituary writer for The State as a student at USC, Bentley rose to copy editor and then joined the Miami Herald for seven years in management. Innovations made during his first editorship at Florida Today were later used in creation of Gannett’s USA Today."

Bob asked me to open a state capitol bureau for Gannett Newspapers, and never once interfered or tried to do anything except to make our jobs covering politics easier. And fun. His sense of humor showed up once when he was co-hosting a reception of the state's political elite, plus several publishers and his boss the CEO of Gannett. When Bob arrived in an expensive new white suit, he looked up and saw the CEO was wearing the same suit. Without a word, Bob disappeared and was back at the reception within 15 minutes in a different suit. He laughed about it later: "My Momma didn't raise a fool."  

We spent many nights together in the 1970s, after the newspaper was rolling off the presses, singing around the piano after a late-night supper at a local hangout.
We parted as colleagues when Bob went to El Paso to be the editor there, I filled his slot, and then he later moved on through Atlanta, New Jersey and the Washington Post. He came to California for a while, and the returned home to South Carolina where he was editor of the same newspaper he had delivered on his bike as a boy.

He never quite commenting, writing, caring or editing.

He probably has his blue pencil in hand right now, deleting too many commas or searching for my split infinitives.

God rest your soul, my friend. You will not be forgotten.