My Evening Sun Memories
The Evening Sun is embarking on a project to commemorate the newspaper’s 100th anniversary. I don’t know what all is planned, but I am looking forward to it.
Let me just get it out there – while I can easily admit the newspaper’s faults, I will also defend it most of the time. Working at a small-town newspaper is an animal most people cannot comprehend. The decisions will never be perfect, but they are never made out of malice. That is something I will never believe because I have made those decisions and know the people who do make those decisions, and they are good people working at a thankless job. The paper isn’t perfect, but people have no idea what kind of talent has come through this town and continues to work to cover the news. Just so we’re clear.
That is the place I started my career. It’s the place I met my wife and some of my closest friends. It’s where I grew up in so many ways. So as they mark 100 years of covering Hanover’s news with a look back at significant moments and important people, I’ll share some of my stories from time to time. Names may occasionally be left out to protect the guilty because it’s more about the spirit of the craziness or the job than the details of who did what. But I will name names.
Like the time my good friend Mike Hoover called into the newsroom when I was working in sports. I honestly can’t remember if I answered the phone or someone else did, but I clearly remember what was going on.
He saw lights from his front porch. Lights at the old Antonio’s. Lights at the place that we had heard was being turned into some kind of cool bar. Since he lives just a few blocks away, he was going to see what was happening.
That’s how we found KClinger’s on one of its first nights open. He called back with giddy stories of bottles of beer upon bottles of beer. We had to come over. The owners were really cool. I am pretty sure I did that first night and for a bunch of other nights after that.
KClinger’s certainly had more loyal and passionate fans, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t really love the place. Within a few years of their opening, I had a kid and started to work down in Baltimore, making my time available to go out drinking much more limited. I remember getting samples of pumpkin beer long before it became a fad. I remember the wall-to-wall people for the Tyson-Holyfield fight. I remember John Clinger adding a sandwich to the menu after I told him about a great meal I had on vacation.
And all that happened because a friend and co-worker used his reporting instincts to check what those lights meant.