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Nostalgia February 2016

Phase Three

This One's for Newspapers

By Arnold Bornstein

I remember covering the arraignment of several alleged mob chieftains who had come from various parts of the country for a meeting at a New York restaurant. I felt intimidated in the courtroom because one of the alleged mobsters periodically stared at me.

While I don't believe that newspapers are an endangered species, it appears that recent generations include many who have visual and hearing orientation. In other words, rather than reading, they're plugged into television. That's fine, except that if children and grandchildren depend primarily on the tube for news and mental stimulation, then you have got to wonder about the future of our society.

It has been my personal experience, including being a former, part-time college English professor, that too many students at the college level had difficulty in writing and expressing their thinking and opinions. Reading is a vital key to our well being, and computers and electronic wizardry don't change that simple fact.

I recall my student days in journalism school at NYU (New York University), when many of my classmates were flocking to television news – "because that's where the money is." I stayed with the long, winding path of print journalism, And while it didn't lead to a pot of gold (putting it mildly), it did result in a very satisfying career as a newspaperman. I must add, however, that public relations, politics and teaching were interspersed along the way, as part of the overall aspect of making a living.

So this one's for newspapers and newspaper men and women. I still recall how the remembrances of things past started anew when my friend who worked at The New York Times took me to its building. I felt like the proverbial kid in a candy store, chatting with a Pulitzer Prize winner, and touring all the major departments – flabbergasted by how the newspaper business has been changed by computers.

My own remembrances came roaring back.

I remember a few months after President Kennedy's inauguration, Jackie Kennedy was visiting New York, and reporters, including myself, stood behind a roped off area at LaGuardia Airport where VIPs landed. She didn't answer any of our questions shouted at her as she entered a limo but the natural beauty of her face, seemingly without makeup, was startling.

I remember where I was when I heard that President Kennedy was assassinated, but linked with that memory is seeing that vibrant face for the first and only time. I was standing on an overpass of New York's Grand Central Parkway when his open-car motorcade went by. My assignment was to phone in some crowd-reaction sentences to the rewrite desk at my office.

I remember meeting Nelson Rockefeller, former New York governor and former vice president under President Gerald Ford, and thinking how down-to-earth one of the richest men who ever lived seemed.

I remember interviewing Malcolm X, who was accompanied by bodyguards, outside a New York Civil Court room – and eight months later he was shot to death.

I remember visiting the Ohio State Penitentiary to do a sidebar (follow-up) story about something, but it didn't materialize. Later, the warden authorized my attending the electrocution of a convicted murderer – but I would not go. I had spoken to another reporter I worked with and he told me he had nightmares from the execution he had witnessed.

I remember covering the arraignment of several alleged mob chieftains who had come from various parts of the country for a meeting at a New York restaurant. I felt intimidated in the courtroom because one of the alleged mobsters periodically stared at me.

I remember having a day off and being at home when word came that a plane had gone down just after taking off at New York's Idlewild Airport (now JFK Airport). I lived nearby, and I wasn't assigned to the story but I went anyway. I showed my press card to a police officer, and he shouted, "Why the hell do you wanna go down there?" But he let me through the police barricade. Then I saw emergency services guys working with body bags, and I scampered back up on the road.

I remember covering some Ohio State football games, and the press room was glass-enclosed and heated and the food counters free, and I said to myself, "My gosh, I'm getting paid for this."

And I remember countless stories about everyday people caught up in the relentless ebb and flow of the human comedy and drama.

So this one's for newspapers and newspaper men and women – for all those people who knock themselves out bringing you tomorrow's headlines and stories – and for all those who will
"tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow...to the last syllable of recorded time." And thanks to William Shakespeare for the quote.

 

I can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. .

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