It was in early 2020 that Carl Butz and I first had a conversation about his acquisition of The Mountain Messenger– the oldest, continually published local newspaper in the state of California, with origins in the Gold Rush and an initial readership of prospectors, settlers, and pioneers. Carl and I had never met, I simply called him out of the blue to offer my congratulations, as he had been the white knight who rescued the paper from certain closure. His story was the subject of a feel good, multi page feature in the New York Times, which was how he and his paper had come to my attention. Carl and
I quickly hit it off.
Before we hung up, he enlisted me to write a weekly column. He was looking for fresh content, and the musings of a peripatetic east coaster might have some exotic appeal, though he was certain my fishing stories would resonate. We would call it Here Back East”—a broad heading for a wide range of topics.
Three years and over 100 columns later, I look back on what has happened during that span of time, to me personally and in the wider world. I attempted to put so much of it into words on a page as I experienced it maybe I was being ambitious, but it was always from the heart. There have been concerns expressed, from friends and colleagues who thought I might say too much, that it might harm my business—I am an attorney and discretion is paramount. But my political columns are few and readers looking for gossip or
muckraking will be disappointed.
Most of the topics are purposeful and personal about ordinary people I encounter in the course of my day, about interesting events and how they affect me, my family and friends.Given the time period when these were written, the myriad ways in which Covid altered the ordinary is threaded through the collection. I go back in time, excavating the memories of growing up in Rochester, New York in the 1940s and 1950s, the child of immigrant parents from Ukraine. And of course, I write a lot about fishing writing about it is the next best thing to doing it.
Carl traversed the country by train to attend my surprise 82nd birthday party. The following spring, I visited him in the Sierras for a VIP tour of The Mountain Messenger offices and to fish the Truckee River.
That first phone call led to an unexpected and rewarding cross continental friendship. Though I am mostly here, back east, I feel a great and constant connection to a certain few square miles of northern California, thanks to Carl and The Mountain Messenger.
Meet the Unlikely Hero Saving California’s Oldest Weekly Paper
Next week is my last scheduled trip north to camp. A planned visit with my high school friends, less one, is something I have looked forward to each year since 2020, when we all first ventured as a group to camp for a sleepaway. This year it is guys only.
This was my second time participating in the East Hampton Library’s fundraising event, called “Author’s Night”. We were all under a large white tent in Herrick Park on a hot and humid Saturday afternoon. From day trippers to locals to weekenders and fulltime residents, they all came to buy books
It is that time of year here in the Hamptons when movie stars, entertainers, tennis champions, finance wizards, famous authors, tech moguls, politicians, twenty-somethings converging on share houses, European jetsetters, and retirees from as far as Israel, all come to feast on the perfect ocean beaches along eastern Long Island.
Last week my friend from Rochester, Arnie, forwarded the obituary of Pincus Cohen, one of the last surviving teachers from our Ben Franklin High School days back in the late 1950s. Mr. Cohen taught Spanish during our time there and subsequently went on to become high school principal. I did
During the last week of July, there is an outdoor marketplace in Kennebunk called the Annual Blueberry and Craft Fair. I attended this year for the first time as a “vendor” and spent a sunny Saturday on the tree-shaded lawn of the First Parish Unitarian Universalist Church, the event sponsor.
