Thirty years ago, newsrooms across the country were filled with Joe Lambs, those occasionally hard-smoking, sometimes hard-drinking, always hard-working journalists who scoffed at 40-hour work weeks and cared not a whit for the finer points of “managing up.†They cussed and yelled, they prowled the streets and hung out in the cop shops. They disappeared and showed back up days later, sometimes with a story, sometimes not, but always with a better understanding of what was going on outside the newsroom.--(Lisa Grist Cunningham, Rockford (Ill.) Register Star, writing about Joe Lamb, the late Register Star editor) When I started as a sportswriter 33 years ago, the newsroom was still sprinkled with gruff, unvarnished, crusty characters straight out of The Front Page. They hid bottles in brown bags in their desk drawers, accidentally set wastebaskets on fire with their cigarette ashes, hurled insults at cub reporters, swore a blue streak as deadline approached, dripped coffee and food down the front of their white shirts, and rushed to the closest tavern when their work day was done.-- (Cliff Christl, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel)<p>***Thirty years ago, there were a lot of stories about the rough-and-tumble journalists of the 1930s and 1940s, who invariably had bottles of liquor stored in their desks and who cursed up a storm. It was cliché then, and it’s cliché now. I’ve known some world-class drunks in the newspaper business, but never saw anyone reach into a desk drawer for a snort. I would bet that there are just as many drunks in the business today as there were 30 years ago. Most people didn’t “cuss and yellâ€; those who did were either ignored or told to shut their filthy mouths—much like today. People in the newsroom are as likely today to spill food on their shirts as they were in 1972.***<p>[ February 17, 2003: Message edited by: blanp ]</p>
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