By starting my 25-plus year career at The Salt Lake Tribune as a “copy boy” (newsroom go-fer) while attending West High School and then becoming a sports writer, I missed the time-honored rite of passage for a newsroom rookie of starting out as an obituary writer.
But the upcoming demise of the daily print edition of the paper compelled me to write what could fall under an obituary category for what I consider the “golden age” of the venerable sheet — the era between the 1950s and 1980s when The Trib had a circulation of 200,000 and a news staff of 180.
In that heyday I worked in the bustling, smoke-filled, messy, teletype-clanging newsroom on the second floor of The Tribune Building at 143 S. Main Street.
It was full of characters and talents and deadlines, but it worked — it had a Pulitzer Prize to prove it.
It was chaotic but it performed a miracle ever day, primarily from 3 p.m. to midnight when most of the copy for the next day’s paper was written, edited and sent to the composing room for processing into print.
The heart and soul of the newsroom centered on its characters — unflappable, zany, extroverts and introverts, editors, writers, artists, photographers, decorated military veterans, Yale graduates and high school dropouts.
There were characters seemingly right out of Broadway’s “Guys and Dolls'” musical — news junkies all, never mind that some stashed half pints of Old Crow or Four Roses in the toilet tanks for periodic sips as the night progressed.
There were guys like sports editor John Mooney who would write his column (Sports Mirror) with two fingers on the Royal Typewriter while humming a tune and gripping a soggy cigar in his teeth.
And humor columnist Dan Valentine who would prowl the newsroom, his mind churning out thoughts of his column (“Nothing Serious”), and drive editors nuts by waiting until deadline to submit it.
“If I gave it to you too early and then died, I wouldn’t get paid for it,” he’d explain.
Excitable Bob Woody was the business editor whose mantra was “take a number” when paged to take a call — even when told the shah of Iran was calling.
Another was Don Brooks, the crusty, self-proclaimed “Dead Fish Editor” outdoor writer. Forever in my memory are his words castigating me while editing my sloppy copy: “Korologos, you are the first person I’ve ever met who misspells his own by-line!”
Another memorable moment was when my brother, Tom, fired me because he didn’t like a headline I had written. (Thankfully, my mother called the editor and he, laughing, told her to have me report to work the next day.)
Hal Schindler was another star in the newsroom cast. The TV columnist with a curmudgeon persona, was a respected historian, admonishing reporters “to write for history” by putting dates and names to all their work.
At almost every lunchtime, vest bedecked editor Arthur C. Deck (never called Art by the staff), personable publisher John W. (Jack) Gallivan and highly regarded political writer O.N. Malmquist anchored the large table in back of near-by Lamb’s Grill. That dining spot often attracted prominent lawyers, political and civic leaders from nearby offices.
VIP wanna-bees often asked Ted Spiros, starched and proper proprietor of Lamb’s, to seat them near-by in hopes of being invited to join in the power table.
Upon becoming assistant to the executive editor, I hired raw journalism graduates who became exceptional journalists whose names are more familiar to today’s Tribune readers than those noted above.
That playbill includes former Tribune editor and publisher Terry Orme (hired as an office clerk); columnist Paul Rolly (ditto); award winning theater critic Nancy Melich; long-time food and feature writer Anne Wilson; Con Psarras (later news director for KSL-TV), food and feature writer Nancy Hobbs, acclaimed photographers Tim Kelly and Lyn Johnson, and sports writer/editorial writer Lex Hemphill.
Those and dozens — nay, hundreds — of other wonderful, lovable, gruff, curmudgeonly and dedicated masters of their craft toiled tirelessly in subsequent years and continued to polish the sheen of respect on The Tribune and enhance its legacy. The region is better informed for it.
I’m glad I was there.
Mike Korologos
Mike Korologos has a degree in journalism from the University of Utah. He worked at The Salt Lake Tribune from 1954 to 1980, working as a sports writer, assistant to the executive editor, personnel director and promotions director. He lives in Salt Lake City.