Remembering a guy by the name of Dave White.... 
Some of the folks still crushing the grapes in the old vineyard (and one who recently got out of the "vat", came over the other night for a little bull session (jacks or better).
And in honor of the gathering I wore a belt buckle that was a gift from a former grape-picker-Dave White. Dave had this buckle decorated with a horse's head. (Some folks think, at times, it should have been the other end) but I kept nagging him over the years: "When you kick off (or retire) leave me that buckle for my collection."
And the day before he and wife, Gina, departed for sunny Florida, he came by my desk in the newsroom and handed me the buckle.
And that leads me to a story worth repeating. Seems Dave's truck wasn't doing what it should, and he had left it at a garage that morning.
Near quitting time, he asked a fellow worker (I can't remember who) if he could get a ride to pick up his truck. Of course the answer was yes. So when the whistle blew (yep, they used to have a whistle to end the shift in composing), Dave and his Good Samaritan went out to the parking deck and got in the guy's car.
They drove down three or four flights and turned right on Cedar.
They started across the intersection of Cedar and High when Dave said: "Turn here." Seems Dave's car was at the Goodrich fixit place.
And it probably took them longer to walk to the Good Samaritan's car in the parking deck, then it would have taken Dave to walk to Goodrich. There was no report of what Samaritan had to say at that point as Dave got out of the car.
But that was Dave, who always kept the old vineyard interesting when he was an assistant grapepicker honcho. He and I used to say we both celebrated the same holiday (no disrespect intended.}
Another Dave White Story:
Dave always wanted the pages to clear the composing floor before on at deadline for those pages. And if you tried to bring back a page for something, it had better be good. Actually he was only doing his job, but sometimes you got the idea he was doing it with much, much zeal.
But this one time, Editor Paul Poorman and Executive Editor Dale Allen spotted something in a metro page proof that had to be changed right on deadline. So I went back to pull the page back. Dave refused.
Despite all I could say, Dave stood his ground.
So I went back to editorial where Poorman was talking to Allen who was sitting at the newsroom desk reserved for the executive editor. I told them, hey, I'm not going to argue with the man. You guys got the stars, go get him.
They looked at each other and grinned. Back they went. Needless to say, the page was pulled back and the fix they wanted was made. Dave told me later that when he saw the two "gentlemen" walking toward him in the composing room, he turned to a printer and ordered: "Bring the Metro page back."
But in all this give-and-take, there was no real animosity. Folks were working with one another--nobody was really FOR anybody.
One story leads to another:
That Dave White story on the trip to the garage trigger the memory of one of our folks. Not about Dave, but about another fellow who like to go to an Italian restaurant on Main street just a block below the Beacon.
Since he and I both don't know how to spell it, and since it has long hung up the last strain of spaghetti, the name really isn't all that important. Seems an unnamed BJ employee did not like to walk any place. So he would drive to the restaurant. He (at that time parking was a problem close by--actually the Beacon was the closest many times) wanted a spot a few feet from the restaurant, so he would circle the block until something opened up. Of course, by that time, his lunch hour was up and he'd have to hustle back to work.

Old Dave Names a Horse for The Great Man
(Dave White read an item about Polly Pafflas and her memo to Don Roese and that reminded him of a memo he received…from the head man himself, John S. Knight. Thus the following.)
It began with Gene Checke, JSK’s driver. He used to hang out in the composing room boss’ office (Bobby Griffin, head honcho, and Dave White, assistant honcho). He’d stay there until JSK needed him to go someplace.
" Well One day Gene and I were talking about horses and how much we liked them, also the horses I worked on my Grandfather’s farm. "Gene said JSK had just bought a new horse was looking for a name for it, but it had to be a newspaper term If you remember, he named all his horses after something that had to do with the newspapers, such as City Editor, which was one of his best.
"About this same time (Production honcho) Don Baker came up with this system that a page had to go from Composing to Engraving every 3 minutes, the last one going in on deadline. Baker called this system our Flow Chart. (Dave, remember it well, as you reminding this old editor, we had several discussions with some very colorful language involved, about that #$%$#@@$% system!)
"So I said to Gene. kidding of course how about the name Flow Chart. Gene passed it along to JSK, he liked it and named the horse Flow Chart! " Well after one of several meetings in the conference room about choosing a new font for cold type Bill S. said to me and Griffin that JSK wanted to see us in his office about the body type selection. After that meeting and on the way out of his office I said to him I heard you used the name I mentioned to Gene for your new horse .
" He said: ‘ I pay $15 for the names I use, send me a memo and I’ll see you get a check."

(That memo and check (uncashed) is reproduced here, along with Dave’s ‘business card’. Actually he’s not in the wine business, he just couldn’t think of another title for his business card. Dave, bet there’s a few editors over the years that would be happy to supply a title for you.) 

An added note on the old telephone tale:
" In one of the back issues of your newsletter, about cutting the phone cord.
"While Bill Ferguson watched, I answered the phone, pulled the cord over the saw, around the post and handed the phone to you. As you put the phone to your ear that tighten the cord and the rest is history. But the real phone thing I used to do to you was in paste-up years later, The phone on the darkroom wall was by page one. " The phone wouldn’t even ring but I would unplug the cord and hand you the unplugged receiver. You would say hello and then look at me and say "God damn you, Dave White".
" This happened at least a dozen times and you would always say the same thing, I loved it and with all the fooling around we did we met deadline at least 99% of the time.
"What a team we go back to the 60’s, putting Sunday’s paper out on Saturday night we go back to the ‘60’s, Putting Sunday’s paper out on Saturdays ."