Pat Brown was a man of the people, a jovial parish-priest type-the polar opposite of the Zen shape-shifter that his son Jerry would turn out to be. The incumbent governor, Pat Brown, the father of the present Governor Brown, was running for a third term. In the summer and fall of 1966, a lot was going on in California, politically and otherwise. How great was the job? Ridiculously great. Plus, it came with the loan of a car, a ’59 Pontiac as big and unwieldy as a barge on wheels.
Francis, on Union Square, at company expense) and a few weeks in a grubby, furnished room in Chinatown, I landed a dream sublet halfway up Telegraph Hill-big windows, top-floor patio, view of the Golden Gate Bridge on one side and the Bay Bridge on the other. After a few nights in a really nice hotel (the St.
Filling out the bureau under Flynn were John Burks, a strapping six-feet-six ironist Jim Wilson, who operated the telex machine that was our link to New York and who doubled as a staff photographer and me.įor six months, until the Selective Service System caught up with me, I had a simply wonderful time. He liked to growl side-of-the-mouth “Front Page”-isms like “Just get the goddam story, goddamit” or, in a tender mood, “Not bad, kid.” Flynn wasn’t one of the Ivy League types favored by “New York,” as we called the home office back East, on Madison Avenue, but he had a credential that neither Osborn Elliot, the magazine’s patrician editor, nor the phalanx of senior editors known as the Flying Wallendas could boast: in 1938, at the San Francisco News, he had been the mentor of another cub reporter, a twenty-one-year-old Vassar girl from Washington, D.C., named Katharine Meyer. Bill Flynn, the bureau chief, was a hard-bitten (but, of course, heart-of-gold) bantam rooster of an ex-newspaper man with a gray crewcut. It certainly was in the late spring of 1966, when I joined it as a cub reporter in San Francisco.īelieve it or not, Newsweek had a San Francisco bureau-not just a stringer working out of his apartment but a real bureau, a four-man, full-time bureau in a comfortable, well-equipped, town-house-like office suite near the Embarcadero. Its managers have stressed that the shift to web distribution is only an evolution of the magazine, not its end, but as now-defunct online newspaper The Daily shows, cutting out print is no panacea.Back when a “brand” was something seared on a steer’s rump with a red-hot iron, Newsweek was what Joe Biden would call a big fuckin’ deal. On sister site The Daily Beast, senior writer Andrew Romano has published an oral history of the iconic magazine, which he lauds as "a bygone form of group journalism that’s less concerned with big-name bylines than with big, cooperative storytelling." In its last years as a print magazine, however, Newsweek struggled financially, merging with The Daily Beast in 2010. While it's eye-catching and pretty timeless, Newsweek couldn't seem to resist topping the whole thing off with a hashtag, apparently either hoping people will take to Twitter to post about the #LastPrintIssue or just unable to resist a bid for relevancy. It's now posted the cover of the final issue on Twitter, showing a stark black and white photograph of the old Newsweek Building in New York - which the magazine itself vacated in 1994. On December 31st, Newsweek magazine will end its print run, shifting its content to an online-only format called Newsweek Global.
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