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As we were driving down the highway this afternoon, composing How could it have slipped our mind! Perhaps a deeply implanted post-hypnotic It was about this time of year, in 1970. The 17-year-old Dowbrigade Somehow we got a job (why have we no memory of actually being hired? Back in ’70 they were nowhere near that big, a half-dozen papers in Actually, as the memories flood back, we realize that the Democrat and In those days editors actually sat at their desks and yelled out "Copy!" Other than that, our main responsibility was manning the teletype machines, The Dowbrigade remembers the thrill of being the first person in Rochester Also, at around 11 each night, Of course, the 17-year old Dowbrigade merely loved racing down I-490 We did actually have some writing responsibilities at the D&C. Our Alas, our career as a professional journalist lasted a mere five months. As However, in the spirit of full disclosure we feel obliged to share this <\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" As we were driving down the highway this afternoon, composing our next vituperative attack on the mono-culture of the Five Major Media Conglomerates, the Dowbrigade suddenly realized that he was actually an ex-employee of one of them! How could it … Continue reading
\n our next vituperative attack on the mono-culture of the Five
\n M<\/a>ajor
\n Media Conglomerates<\/a>,
\n the Dowbrigade suddenly realized that he was actually an ex-employee
\n of one of them!<\/p>\n
\n suggestion made us forget, and still guides our actions in a sort of
\n journalistic Manchurian Candidate scenario. But probably we just forgot.<\/p>\n
\n had just been unceremoniously deported from the Holy Land for hanging
\n out with Palestinians and drug dealers, and was at loose ends in Rochester,
\n New York, waiting for replies to his college aps.<\/p>\n
\n Has it been erased or burned out of our memory in a mid-70’s MDA binge?) at the Rochester
\n Democrat and Chronicle, the main daily morning broadsheet and the Flagship
\n Paper of the now-nationwide Gannett Newspaper chain. Gannett currently
\n owns 99 daily newspapers, as well as USA Today, radio and TV stations
\n and hundreds of web sites.<\/p>\n
\n upstate New York, and the Dowbrigade was a copy boy at the biggest one.<\/p>\n
\n Chronicle was not our first exposure to the Gannett family! In
\n fact, we used to date a dainty blond by the name of Karen Gannett! Ok,
\n in the spirit of full disclosure we must admit that they were "play dates",
\n as we shared a third-grade class with young Karen. However, that may
\n have had something to do with how we got the job.<\/p>\n
\n periodically, when they wanted or needed something. Usually what
\n they wanted was "Art!" from the "Morgue", which was the pre-digital equivalent
\n of Google Image Search. If for example, Alf Langdon died, they would
\n send a copy boy down to the morgue to dig our all the file photos of
\n old Alf, to illustrate his obit.<\/p>\n
\n which in those days were actual clattering keyboardless typewriters,
\n with long rolls of teletype paper which brought in the news stories from
\n UPI, AP, Reuters, etc. Our job was to rip each story off the machine
\n as it streamed in, and direct it to the correct editor by placing it
\n in a color-coded plastic tube and shooting it through a pneumatic pipe
\n system to the designated desk. Very 20th century.<\/p>\n
\n to read the news, even before the writers and editors who would pass
\n it on to the general public. It’s the same thrill we get calling our
\n equally news-addicted father and telling him, thanks to our aggregator,
\n what’s going to be on the front page of his venerated New York Times
\n the next day.<\/p>\n
\n when the first editions of the next morning’s paper came off the press,
\n one of our more eagerly anticipated tasks was to jump into a papermobile, which
\n was, we were told, a special limited production model identical to
\n big city police cars, with extra power and acceleration to catch malefactors,
\n and drive like a bat out of hell to the suburban homes of
\n Paul Miller, Gannett’s chairman, and Allen H. Neuharth, who was the
\n executive editor. They were supposed to peruse the paper and
\n call in any changes or editorial rewrites they felt were needed.<\/p>\n
\n in a souped-up American automobile with a lisence to fly and a mission
\n to complete. The expressway was mostly empty at that hour and we could
\n really open her up. At one point we got a ticket for going 95. The
\n newspaper promptly had it "fixed", and after that we were unstoppable.<\/p>\n
\n first paying writing gig was penning the four and five-word blurbs
\n which accompany
\n the capsule weather report on the front page. Pithy and humorous verbiage
\n like "Thunder the weather" and "In between the sleets".Those curious
\n as to the origins of the unique Dowbrigade esthetic need wonder no more.<\/p>\n
\n soon as we found out that we had somehow been accepted at a decent college
\n we began parlaying our journalistic earnings and parental goodwill into
\n a summer in Europe with the girlfriend before heading off to Cambridge.<\/p>\n
\n information. Complete employment histories and archived stories should
\n be available for all journalists, so that we can get a grasp on where
\n they are coming from and the evolution of their voices. So here is mine;
\n you be the judge of whether the Dowbrigade is a sleeper agent for the
\n Media Mafia.<\/p>\n