A loving and laughter-filled trip back to a lost American time when the newspaper business was the happiest game in town
In a warm, affectionate true-life tale, New York Times bestselling author and CNN contributor, Bob Greene travels back to a place where - when little more than a boy - he had the grand good luck to find himself surrounded by a brotherhood and sisterhood of wayward misfits who, on the mezzanine of a Midwestern building, put out a daily newspaper that didn't even know it had already started to die. 'In some American cities,' Greene writes, 'famous journalists at mighty and world-renowned papers changed the course of history with their reporting.' But at the Columbus Citizen-Journal, there was a willful rejection of grandeur: these were overworked reporters and snazzy sportswriters, nerve-frazzled editors and insult-spewing photographers, who found pure joy in the fact that, each morning, they awakened to realize, 'I get to go down to the paper again.'
At least that is how it seemed in the eyes of the novice copyboy who saw romance in every grungy pastepot, a symphony in the song of every creaking typewriter. With current-day developments in the American newspaper industry so grim and dreary, Late Edition is a Valentine to an era that was gleefully cocky and seemingly free from care, a wonderful story as bracing and welcoming as the sound of a rolled-up paper thumping onto the front stoop just after dawn.
In a warm, affectionate true-life tale, New York Times bestselling author and CNN contributor, Bob Greene travels back to a place where - when little more than a boy - he had the grand good luck to find himself surrounded by a brotherhood and sisterhood of wayward misfits who, on the mezzanine of a Midwestern building, put out a daily newspaper that didn't even know it had already started to die. 'In some American cities,' Greene writes, 'famous journalists at mighty and world-renowned papers changed the course of history with their reporting.' But at the Columbus Citizen-Journal, there was a willful rejection of grandeur: these were overworked reporters and snazzy sportswriters, nerve-frazzled editors and insult-spewing photographers, who found pure joy in the fact that, each morning, they awakened to realize, 'I get to go down to the paper again.'
At least that is how it seemed in the eyes of the novice copyboy who saw romance in every grungy pastepot, a symphony in the song of every creaking typewriter. With current-day developments in the American newspaper industry so grim and dreary, Late Edition is a Valentine to an era that was gleefully cocky and seemingly free from care, a wonderful story as bracing and welcoming as the sound of a rolled-up paper thumping onto the front stoop just after dawn.
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