Don’t stop the presses just because I got married
Last week was the worst week of my life. It all started on
Saturday. I got married.
No, no, no. I know a bunch of you are thinking, “I could have told
you that.” You’re saying it quietly, so your wife doesn’t hear you.
No, the marriage was actually a good thing, but, we’ll get back to
that in a minute.
What made the week bad was the production of the Daily Pilot and
its sister newspapers that I also manage throughout Southern
California.
It all started that same Saturday. Sitting in Las Vegas at the
Mandalay Bay Resort early that morning, my normal thoughts would have
been on the wedding.
Things like, “gosh, I hope I remember my lines,’’ or “don’t forget
the ring,” or “how does my suit look?” or “is my tie tied correctly?”
But, low and behold, I get a call from our new pressroom that our
Glendale papers are experiencing production problems. So instead of
worrying about my suit, the lines, my tie, etc., I’m worrying about
getting the darn newspaper out. Not much I can do from 200 miles away
except hope and pray.
Neither work.
Well, my thoughts were that we have a new state of the art
printing facility and this has to be only a one-time glitch, right?
WRONG!
Fast forward to the wee hours of Thursday morning. The new bride
and I are off in dreamland when the telephone rings at 3:15 a.m. The
wife, unaccustomed to all this commotion so early in the morning,
jumps out of bed. I, however, know what’s coming. It’s Jose Chavez,
from my circulation department. “Mr. Johnson, the Pilot is not going
to make it.”
Jose says he’ll organize a crew and do his best to get the paper
out separate from the Times. He does.
Just to make sure our readers get the paper, we reprint Thursday’s
edition for Friday distribution inside the Times, too.
Thursday night for Friday. It’s just past 3 a.m. and the phone
rings. The bride again sits up startled. I pick up the phone and
listen.
“Not again!” I replied.
No crew can be mustered this morning and the papers sit on the
docks waiting for a “late” Saturday delivery.
I toss and turn for the next several hours in bed.
At 7 a.m., the alarm goes off. The bride rolls over, smiles and
says, “good morning.” I fake through a “good morning” back.
Her next line almost annuls the marriage. “Is it common for a
newspaper to not go out on the date it’s suppose to?”
I shower, dress and leave.
I go into the office. Our receptionist, Nancy Hopper, glares at me
as I make my first morning rounds through the building. Nancy’s the
one who has to take all of the complaint calls.
Well, Friday ends and I’m off to celebrate my one-week
anniversary. Not exactly with the wife, but with some buddies in the
desert playing golf and shooting dove. I know what the women are
saying. You shouldn’t be out doing that one week into your marriage.
C’mon now, this marriage stuff is tough.
So here I am sleeping in the desert, miles from newspaper land.
Yet, shortly after 3 a.m. the telephone finds me. It has happened for
a third time. Not a good thing, when my shotgun awaits only feet
away.
Jose again promises to rally a crew and get the papers delivered.
As the morning goes on we combine some hunting with breakfast and
calls to the printing plant management. I think I make my point to
them.
Monday and Tuesday are proof in the pudding. The Pilot arrives
like it’s supposed to.
The week from hell is over. Hopefully, it’s back to business as
usual.
I apologize to all of our readers and advertisers. We’ll
definitely get this behind us.
Oh, and by the way, the new bride is Vicki. She arrives here at
our new house in Newport Beach from Henderson, Nev. In tow is a 16
year-old daughter, Victoria.
On to week two of the marriage.
TOM JOHNSON is the publisher. He can be reached at 949-642-4321.
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