Thursday, January 18, 2024
A Friend's Good Work
Back when I was a young cub reporter type, I shared a group home in Washington with a number of other journalists, all of whom happened to have gone to Harvard: Ari Posner, who has gone on to great things as a screenwriter in LA; Andrew Sullivan, blogger, etc.; Carl Rosenblatt (son of Roger), whom I've lost track of; and David Hilzenrath, Harvard class of '86, on the Crimson board, who worked for the Washington Post.
It was a bit of a crazy house. We threw lots of parties; the refrigerator looked like a war zone; I don't think we cooked a single meal. Our furniture was...scarce. The bathrooms were entered at your own risk.
But the parties were great.
Ari, sadly, left to move to Los Angeles, where he would thrive, wed, and breed. Andrew would eventually buy a condo in a section of Adams Morgan which, he swore, was on the verge of becoming a hot neighborhood. It still is. Truth to tell, it was just as well; one grew tired of being woken up by the Pet Shop Boys every morning. (Although I do still have the cd that Andrew got them to autograph for me when he interviewed them. The funny part is, he wanted one for himself as well, but he was so embarrassed about it that he actually got them to autograph two for me....)
David, meanwhile, loved writing for the Post and was a dogged reporter; he broke the story that, while in prison, Marion Barry, former mayor and on-and-off crackhead, had hired a prostitute to fellate him during visiting hours. In Washington, publishing that story took some guts. But David loved his work. Every morning, he would put on a suit—we used to tease him slightly about this—grab his briefcase—we would tease him about that too—and go off to work. He was a company man in the best sense of the word, passionate about reporting and the daily work of a newspaper.
Looking at the Washington Post website today, I see that David has written a novel, Jezebel's Tomb, which the Post is serializing on its website. Fantastic. It's wonderful to see an old friend continuing to grow and challenge himself professionally. The book sounds like a good read—check it out.
It was a bit of a crazy house. We threw lots of parties; the refrigerator looked like a war zone; I don't think we cooked a single meal. Our furniture was...scarce. The bathrooms were entered at your own risk.
But the parties were great.
Ari, sadly, left to move to Los Angeles, where he would thrive, wed, and breed. Andrew would eventually buy a condo in a section of Adams Morgan which, he swore, was on the verge of becoming a hot neighborhood. It still is. Truth to tell, it was just as well; one grew tired of being woken up by the Pet Shop Boys every morning. (Although I do still have the cd that Andrew got them to autograph for me when he interviewed them. The funny part is, he wanted one for himself as well, but he was so embarrassed about it that he actually got them to autograph two for me....)
David, meanwhile, loved writing for the Post and was a dogged reporter; he broke the story that, while in prison, Marion Barry, former mayor and on-and-off crackhead, had hired a prostitute to fellate him during visiting hours. In Washington, publishing that story took some guts. But David loved his work. Every morning, he would put on a suit—we used to tease him slightly about this—grab his briefcase—we would tease him about that too—and go off to work. He was a company man in the best sense of the word, passionate about reporting and the daily work of a newspaper.
Looking at the Washington Post website today, I see that David has written a novel, Jezebel's Tomb, which the Post is serializing on its website. Fantastic. It's wonderful to see an old friend continuing to grow and challenge himself professionally. The book sounds like a good read—check it out.
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Obviously you didn't learn precision in language from your housemates. Lot of verbiage just to flack a friend's book...
Why the negativity? No one's forcing you to read it. If you like the words, keep reading 'em. If not, skip to another item. Or another blog, for that matter. It's all the same to me.
Really. I, for one, liked the background, Rich. What would have annoyed me is simply telling us to check out this book by your friend.
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