That one in particular saddens me because my grandparents were very close friends with the Block family for decades. That family owned and operated the Gazette, then the
Bill and Maxine Block were just terrific people. In the '80s and '90s, they wintered in Sarasota as next-building neighbors to my grandparents -- they were always good for cocktails with the grown-ups and card games with us kids. Mr. Block was super smart and routinely encouraged me to pursue my writing interest. Little did he know I'd have this fun, non-paying, underground gig for two decades.
One amusing story: in the spring of 1989, I was hung over as all hell in Monroe freshman dormitory at the College of Knowledge, passed out in my boxers on our crappy thrift store couch. Empty cans of Busch and Krispy-Kreme boxes littered the floor near me. A knock came at the door at dawn, or so 11:30am seemed.
"What?!" I hollered at whoever was waking me up so early.
"Whitney?"
"Yeah..."
The door opens, and Bill Block poked his head in sheepishly. "Hi, Whitney, it's Bill Block."
This was the genteel 73-year-old newspaperman; what on earth was he doing here?? With me in shabby drawers and nary a stitch else in my hobo-chic dorm room? Well, just dropping in on his old buddy's grandson to offer him a nice lunch at the Trellis. Oh, my. No, no, no, no.
Eh. Lunch was good. And the lack of prior notice from my family meant they got to have a story to tell at the holidays for years to come.
Anyway, the paper is no more. Bill Block died two months after my grandfather did in 2005. Grampa Jack was 87, Mr. Block was 89. Lives well lived by men in search of public edification through publication.
Bill Block, a number of years back:
I’ve always been that horrible term — liberal — more so than my editors. …We’ve been liberal in connection with civil rights, conservative on economics. That is my personal feeling and the road that we followed.
Ownership of the newspaper(s) eventually fell to Bill Block's nephew, a Trumpster who has dragged the publication rightward over the years. And now it's dead.
So it's just one more thing to be sad and worried about here in 2026.
Fuckery Week sucks, so now feels like a good place to slide this in. How I long for the days of regularly scheduled dipshittery.
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i either never heard the story of mr. block arriving a the dorm or am getting to the age where every story is new. regardless, that's both very funny and very believable.
ReplyDeletetribe losing at charleston: understandable. tribe losing at monmouth: not great, bob.
ReplyDeleteGuess the week ain’t getting any better.
ReplyDeleteFast times at the Jersey Shore.
ReplyDeleteHurricanes going to have a lot of time to regret not catching these easy would-be interceptions.
ReplyDeletedoink
ReplyDeleteThat’s a brutal targeting call. Nobody thinks what it’s like to be a defender. He went low, about 2’ off the ground. But the receiver awkwardly fell very low right into his line of fire.
ReplyDeleteBut leave it to Miami to self-destruct after that.
ReplyDeleteWhy not go for 2 there?
ReplyDeletethat's a funny and uncomfortable story. sounds like the kinda guy that may have put you at ease on the way to trellis, hopefully.
ReplyDeletei've a similar one - my parents heading home to winchester from visiting a sister and fam south of harrisonburg/jmu on a sunday morning, 11'ish, zero notice and after one of the few real shindigs hosted at our condo. it was a good one for a GDI. the place was absolutely wrecked w/the smell that goes with it. they walked right in and up to the 2nd floor. a sitting area w/tv, small kitchenette, and two bedrooms, plus a balcony. fortunately there was a second door to enter the space, which thankfully was locked. dad knocks, calls my name and i am a church mouse. a few more knocks, a few more shoutouts, and they left. i felt like a real winner. they called me when they got home to check in - "we stopped by your place on the way home and no one was around"...
"yeah, i got a big test tomorrow....was at the library"
Not bad, Danny Boy
ReplyDelete