News-Record.com

I'm not quite as old as you, but I do remember the one thing my editor told me at my first paying gig:

"Always keep a pocket full of change for the pay-phones."

Cell phones were still not standard equipment. Of course, this was the same guy who when he wanted me to go somewhere on the double would bellow, "Binker, get on your horse!"

Aspirin bottle, right?

More signs (from the old Greensboro Daily News):

1. The steady roar of noise coming from the "wire room" as the news stories from AP, UPI, New York Times, etc. came over the old teletype machines on that old narrow paper. And the little bells would ring on the machines when a news bulletin came across.

2. Spikes were on almost all of the desks in the newsroom. They were handy places to put edited news copy.

3. The u-shaped desk for the copy editors.

4. Vacuum tubes were hanging on the walls to ship news copy down to the composing room.

5. Someone yelling "copy boy" every few minutes.

6. The obit writer with his head cocked to one side with a telephone stuck to his ear for hours talking with funeral homes as he typed obituaries.

7. Men like Harvey Harris, Nat Walker, Ed Davis ("Creole"), Al Hamilton, Hubert Breeze and George Hord working late into the night slowly pushing news copy toward the direction of Henry Coble, the man in charge at night, preparing for the publication of the first edition.

"That's the style book. Learn it."

Soon we might even get to where only old-timers remember presses. Just as well, perhaps. The only time in my career I've ever yelled "Stop the presses!" was when Challenger exploded, and I don't recall that moment with pride or fondness.

Interesting point about the spikes, Wendell. The term persists though the hardware involved has long disappeared. Our last computer system had a "spike" basket to which copy could be sent, there to spend 3 hours in purgatory before disappearing. Now, we have garbage cans which must be emptied.

(I guess a similar dynamic applies in music recording -- first it was cuts on wax or metal discs, then on plastic discs, then on magnetic tape, then digitally -- but the phrase "cutting a record" still has a tiny foothold in that business.)

Lex:

I thought that the old composing room (when the Daily News was located on Davie Street) was an interesting place. Unlike the newsroom, the composing room made me feel like I was taking a step back in time. It looked like a workplace from 19th Century England. The old, wooden floors, the stereotype machines, the lead plates, the guys walking around in those funny-looking paper hats.

I used to pick up several copies of the first edition of the Daily News from the pressroom around 11 p.m. and take them back to the newsroom. For some reason or other, the black ink on the first edition would easily smear and get all over your clothes. Henry Coble was eager to get the first copy so he could look for errors and correct them for the following editions. As I remember, there were five editions published, with the last being the "city edition."

When I left after midnight, Coble was still sitting at his desk, almost alone in the newsroom, working on the final touches for the city edition. Sometimes, his only company would be a couple of sportswriters typing out a story about a night game, trying to beat the deadline for the last edition.

John:

You mentioned ashtrays in the newsroom. When I began working at the Daily News in 1969 as a copy boy, many of the editors and reporters enjoyed smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee as they worked.

I remember one incident, a couple of years after I started working at the GDN, when one of the senior newsroom editors was smoking around the copy desk and this young copy editor told him that it was a "no smoking area" and asked him to stop.

All of a sudden, all of the din and clatter of the newsroom stopped and everyone seemed to be shocked at the mere suggestion of such a preposterous thing. With everyone watching, the senior editor glared at the young employee, inhaled a long drag off his cigarette, blew a big ball of smoke into the guy's face, dropped the burning cigarette onto the floor and crushed it with the sole of his shoe.

The young copy editor held his ground and muttered "asshole." The senior editor turned around and slowly walked away. Now, that I look back, I think that may have been the beginning of the end of the honored place smoking had in the newsroom.

No, Jennifer, bourbon. But I did work for a managing editor at another paper who kept an industrial-size aspirin bottle on his desk for all the headaches, presumably, we gave him.

You're probably right, Wendell, about smoking. Copy boys predate even me, and I had forgotten about the pneumatic tubes, which were gone from this place when I arrived, but we used at another paper.

John:

I thought about the year that I started as a copy boy at the Daily News. It was actually 1968; I was in high school at the time.

There were no "copy girls" at the time; it was unheard of. Sometime in the early 1970s, the Daily News began hiring females as copy girls. I'm glad that practice was adopted because my future wife, Debbie, was one of those early copy girls. That's how we met and I've been married to her for almost thirty years.

I remained, on and off, as a copy boy for the GDN until I went off to law school in 1977. By that time the newspaper had relocated to its present location. I liked the old building better.

I worked with Becky Layton for awhile during the 1970s. She wasn't a copy girl, but she had to come in the wire room frequently. I think Becky is still working for the N&R in the editorial office.

Yep, Becky is still here and working harder than any of us.

"I was a copy boy for the GDN until I went off to law school in 1977..."

I was hired as a copy girl in Aug. 77 -- I must have taken your old job? After Becky and Leon Bullock taught me to type, I was "promoted" to obits under Mr. Coble. Still have a crick in my neck.

Law school was a smart choice...

Lorraine:

I think that I may have set a record for length of service as a copy boy. When I started in 1968, I remember the reporters and the news editors watching the presidential election returns (Nixon/Humphrey/Wallace) on television in the newsroom.

If I remember correctly, Smallwood was the managing editor, Hubert Breeze was the city editor, Larry Keech, and Bodie McDowell were sports reporters, and Henry Coble was "the man in charge" at night.

When I left the newspaper in 1977, Charlie Howell was on the news desk. Smallwood was still working along with Porter Crisp, Leon Bullock, Ed Davis, Darwin Honeycutt, Glenn Mays, Don Patterson and Henry Coble was still "the man in charge" at night. Vann King, I think, was still a reporter or a columnist at the time and I would also see him on some weekends since he was a member of the same National Guard unit that I was serving in (Becky Layton's husband was also in the same unit).

Mr. Coble was probably glad to have you as my replacement since I seemed to come in late for work all the time. I really admired the man; he really was dedicated to his work. I was so pleased that he came to my wedding. I was hoping that he came because he liked me, but I think he liked my copy girl bride, Debbie, more. In my opinion, he was the glue that held the newspaper together. I don't know how the N&R has survived without him.

Just think -- another few years, and you'll be able to add "brown monochrome Coyote terminals" and "a dark room" to things that only the old-timers remember.

My first newsroom kept a big typesetting machine in the lobby to remind us of the old days. On nights in which the computer system had crashed, we often joked about starting it up.

I started in journalism when hot metal was on its way to history's slag pile. Never learned to run a Linotype, but I cast headlines on a Ludlow and leading spacers on an Elrod. We set headlines by hand, loading individual letters, numbers, etc. on a stick and locking the stick into the Ludlow, The machine then pumped molten metal up into the molds. Sometimes a broken mold or a bit of grit between the letters allowed a thin jet to spurt out in a needle-thin arc you wouldn't notice until it traced a spider web of silvery metal on your hand or arm. Didn't hurt much, but it left faint, permanent scars. A generation later, some people in the business still recognized those brands as a badge of honor from the brotherhood of typographic craftsmen. Now I know I'm an oldtimer because people who hear that story today think I was a damn fool for risking my skin (literally) to make a 10-cent newspaper.

Steve:

Your post brought back memories. I remember that stuff but, for some reason, I thought that the linotype machines were called stereotype machines. But, I worked in the newsroom. I was at the newspaper when the transition began from "hot type" to "cold type." It was such a major shift for newspaper production and the problems were endless.

I also remember that photographs were engraved onto metal plates and they were placed into those square boxes (Ludlow?) with the typeset during the "hot type" days. When the "cold type" came about, the photos were transferred onto a paper-like material that was called velox, I think.

The biggest change was in the composing room. In the "hot type" days, it was a beehive of activity with many employees working on mechanical tasks that produced a unique noise that permeated the whole place. After "cold type" was implemented, the composing room seemed to become a cold, sterile place with fewer employees. And, it was so quiet; the old humming noise that I had become fondly accustomed to was gone forever.

Mark, I had to laugh about the quarters for the pay phone. Those were the days when we also had to carry pagers, which alerted us to use those pay phones. And, as a crime reporter, we had to lug around the big heavy walkie-talkie-type radios to communicate with editors (or the photographer somewhere on scene). Cell phones are true blessing to the reporters of today when you consider the alternatives. LOL...