creators.com opinion web
Conservative Opinion General Opinion
Roger Simon
Roger Simon
27 Aug 2014
Hillary's Doomed if She's Obama's Third Term

When Barack Obama was first elected president, he asked David Axelrod to leave Chicago and come to the White … Read More.

20 Aug 2014
Is the Ferguson Nightmare Just Beginning?

Could it be that our long national nightmare is just beginning? Could it be that after decade upon decade of … Read More.

13 Aug 2014
Hillary Not Comfortable in Her Own Skin

Hillary Clinton walks through a paneled doorway and onto the set of "The Colbert Report." A grin splits her face.… Read More.

How I Became a Journalist

Comment

Note to readers: The following column was first published in October 1993.

It was the year Charles Manson went to prison, the voting age was lowered to 18, The New York Times published the Pentagon Papers, and I wrote my first full-time newspaper column.

Today, I've written over 3,000.

People often ask me the secret to lasting so long in the column-writing business.

Sincerity, I tell them. Once you can fake that, you've got it made.

Which is typical of people who work for newspapers. We use sarcasm to avoid revealing genuine emotion.

We don't like to admit the truth: that this is an incredibly romantic profession. It is fun. It is thrilling.

And I went into it because Roger Ebert got me drunk.

I was a college kid working at my student newspaper, the same paper where Ebert, the movie critic of the Chicago Sun-Times, had been editor years before.

He still had a subscription and, unbeknownst to me, had been clipping my columns and throwing them on the desk of his editor.

One day, the editor called and invited me up for a job interview.

I went, and I told him I didn't think I wanted to work for a newspaper. I didn't know exactly what I wanted to do. Write plays, maybe. Or books. Or be a cowboy. Something.

The editor thanked me for my time, and I went back to school.

The next day, Ebert, whom I did not know, called me.

"Nobody turns down a newspaper job!" he bellowed. "You take the train back here tonight!"

And so I did. Ebert did not bother to show me around the newspaper. Instead, he showed me around the newspaper bars.

I remember the evening imperfectly. I may have been over-served.

I do remember wherever we went the air was filled with words. Reporters talking about stories they had written or were going to write or their editors wouldn't let them write.

They talked about chasing down murderers and covering tornadoes and making fools out of politicians.

And everywhere Ebert would introduce me the same way.

"This is the kid who thinks he's too good to be a newspaperman!" he would shout.

Near the end of the evening, John McHugh, a wonderful reporter and writer, who had been born in Sligo, Ireland, and still spoke with a brogue, wrapped an enormous arm around me and told me I had no choice but to newspaper.

"You don't choose it, lad," he said.

"It chooses you."

The bar closed, and we spilled out onto the street. Ebert announced that since the last train had left several hours before, he and McHugh would drive me the 150 miles back to campus.

And so we blasted down the two-lane country roads with Ebert and McHugh singing Irish Republican Army songs at the tops of their lungs.

(Today, neither Ebert nor McHugh touches a drop, and I barely do, which explains why we are all still around to tell these stories.)

The next morning, I called the editor and asked if I could still get a job.

"What would you like to do for us?" he asked.

I would like to write a column, I said.

"Of course you would," he said. "But we've got something much better. It's called general assignment. And we'll even let you do it at night."

Eventually, I did become a columnist. And one day, when I had to sit down and write my 500th column, I came across this quotation by editor and author Stanley Walker.

I regret it mentions only men and not women — he would undoubtedly include both today — but it still rings with the kind of rueful sincerity that you can't fake:

"What makes a good newspaperman? The answer is easy. He knows everything. He is aware not only of what goes on in the world today, but his brain is a repository of the accumulated wisdom of the ages.

"He is not only handsome, but he has the physical strength which enables him to perform great feats of energy. He can go for nights on end without sleep. He dresses well and talks with charm. Men admire him; women adore him; tycoons and statesmen are willing to share their secrets with him.

"He hates lies and meanness and sham, but keeps his temper. He is loyal to his paper and to what he looks upon as his profession; whether it is a profession, or merely a craft, he resents attempts to debase it.

"When he dies, a lot of people are sorry, and some of them remember him for several days."

To find out more about Roger Simon, and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.

COPYRIGHT 2009 CREATORS SYNDICATE INC.

3



Comments

0 Comments | Post Comment
Already have an account? Log in.
New Account  
Your Name:
Your E-mail:
Your Password:
Confirm Your Password:

Please allow a few minutes for your comment to be posted.

Enter the numbers to the right:  
Creators.com comments policy
More
Roger Simon
Aug. `14
Su Mo Tu We Th Fr Sa
27 28 29 30 31 1 2
3 4 5 6 7 8 9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16
17 18 19 20 21 22 23
24 25 26 27 28 29 30
31 1 2 3 4 5 6
About the author About the author
Write the author Write the author
Printer friendly format Printer friendly format
Email to friend Email to friend
View by Month
Froma Harrop
Froma HarropUpdated 2 Sep 2014
Marc Dion
Marc DionUpdated 1 Sep 2014
Mark Shields
Mark ShieldsUpdated 30 Aug 2014

17 Jul 2009 Don't Ask, Don't Tell

7 Oct 2009 Calling for Barack the Bold

27 Oct 2010 Gov. Moonbeam Comes Back to Earth