UPDATE: Jeez, I typed the year wrong. I have corrected that…
In 1977, I was attending college and working part-time at the local newspaper. Besides writing a weekly music column, I used their typewriters for my class assignments (hey, I’m old) and took care of stuff no one else wanted to do (“Club Calendar,” calling the local theaters to compile the movie times).
On this day in 1977, I had taken a break to join my mom for dinner at Morrisons Cafeteria. When we got back to the car, we heard the news on the radio: Elvis Presley was dead.
I headed back to the newspaper. Still had some homework to finish. Plus, I liked hanging out there.
I called a friend who worked at a local record store. He told me people were swarming the store to buy Elvis records. Not something that had happened in, oh, a few decades.
So I grabbed a notebook and pen (hey, I’m old) and headed to that store. And a few others.
When I returned to the paper, I wrote up a story about local reaction to Elvis having left the building. I left it with the copy desk, but warned them I hadn’t previously gotten authorization to do that story (the management at the paper was, ummm, a bit strange at times).
Next morning, there it was: My first front-page byline.
I headed for the paper (when did I ever show up in class? Not much, as my grades often reflected), thinking I’d be in trouble for doing the story without permission. Instead, I got praise and an extra 20 bucks.
The story wasn’t great. But it provided local readers with a bit of what Elvis fans in the area felt about the news. So it worked on that level.
And, I guess, it also marked what turned out to be a key feature of my whole 40-year career: Rather than wait for opportunities, I came up with ideas and did my best to make them happen. That pissed off some of the bosses I’ve had. But the others – the good ones – encouraged me.
Thanks, Elvis