The Newsroom At 55 Park Place – A Reporters Memoir

The Newsroom At 55 Park Place
A Reporters Memoir

By Don Storch

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Books By Don Storch

The Newsroom At 55 Park Place
Snakes in the Swamp
If a Passive-Progressive Leads from behind he is a Double Oxymoron

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Dedication

            This book is dedicated to my Mom and Dad, mentors of an only child, with daily memories of loving gratefulness, Viola Pauline (Helmstatt) Storch (1910 – 1969) and George John Storch (1903-1969)

                                                                       And To:

Norman B. Tomlinson Jr

(1927-2017)

The following is a work of non fiction in progress and will be published as chapters are completed:

Preface

            The building on the cover of this book is where my story begins and so I will tell it from the newsroom metaphorically that once housed the home of the Morristown Daily Record, circa 1900, The Newsroom at 55 Park Place Morristown N. J.

            It was November of 1957, just days after being discharged from the United States Navy that I walked into that building, applied for a job as a reporter and within an hour walked out of it with the beginning of a beautiful relationship with journalism, colleagues and the principle values journalism stood for then.

            I say then, because this is a story about more than me, it’s a story about what journalism was like then and what it has become today. And so, I will intermittently take you from the past to flash forwards of the present to make the read a living narrative.

            The story begins in a morgue-like newsroom, all the desks are in place, typewriters of old sit on top, the wire service machines sit along a wall where they always were, they are quiet, the room is dusty.

            I have to clean off what was once my desk, or at least I thought it was. I sit down in front of my Remington typewriter of the 30’s – if you wanted to write, you had to know how to repair it – and begin to type and the only noise is the clacking of my Remington.  There are no people in the room, just me.

            I can’t write without noise, surrounded by people, I apparently was born to be what is an asset today, a multitasker, I didn’t even know what it was then, but apparently, I can focus on my story with ambient sounds of comfort – it is the past yet the present.

            Many journalists of the time and today can do it, if you can’t, forget the profession.

            I am in my element.  My story begins in a ghost-like newsroom from which this story will be written.

            There will be flash-backs and flash-forwards.

            I’m excited about telling the stories, but sad about telling them in a morgue of a newsroom that was once vibrant with noise, activity, news and yelling, I look forward to being back where I once was.

            Let’s see if we can awake the past and make it relevant to the present. Take a ride with me exploring what once was, inject it into the present, and see if it makes a difference.

To be continued . . .

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