Rollin'
We proceeded as usual yesterday, working under the plan we'd had since Saturday of printing the newspaper at the San Antonio Express-News.
Then came word that it would happen here. This took us another critical step closer to getting back to the normal business routine, albeit one following a career-altering experience.
The tents of the news circus in Houston, where our copy desk had been operating, was brought back and set up on the second floor, which remained largely undamaged. It was nice to see them back.
Normal Enterprise circulation is around 60,000, but only 30,000 copies were to be printed, because, according to our wild and random speculation, only about a quarter to half of our population had returned.
Around 10:45 p.m., most everyone had finished their work and gone home. As we did almost every night, the social gathering in the Enterprise lobby was under way. There was a half dozen of us who had been here all or most of the time, and a little nightly party broke out to celebrate the day's accomplishments and lament the shortcomings and failures.
Suddenly, a pressman appeared in the lobby with newspapers. We jumped up and scurried to the pressroom, where the skeletal crew was swarming over the screaming press like fire ants on a potato chip.
We stood there smiling while the stone-faced pressmen checked the colors and made adjustments to the scores of little knobs. Presswork is dangerous and requires focus. The first few hundred or so newspapers are tossed during the tweaking process. Check, tweak and toss. Check, tweak and toss.
Finally, it was good, and the papers were allowed to roll down the line to the mail room, where they would be bundled, sent the loading dock and onto the vehicles of the awaiting carriers for delivery. We grinned. Photographer Pete Churton snapped pictures. Publisher Aubrey Webb shed a tear.
Considering the building damage, many of us thought it would take longer to get the press rolling.
But there it was, roaring in the heart of our busted building, howling louder than Hurricane Rita at her zenith.
Then came word that it would happen here. This took us another critical step closer to getting back to the normal business routine, albeit one following a career-altering experience.
The tents of the news circus in Houston, where our copy desk had been operating, was brought back and set up on the second floor, which remained largely undamaged. It was nice to see them back.
Normal Enterprise circulation is around 60,000, but only 30,000 copies were to be printed, because, according to our wild and random speculation, only about a quarter to half of our population had returned.
Around 10:45 p.m., most everyone had finished their work and gone home. As we did almost every night, the social gathering in the Enterprise lobby was under way. There was a half dozen of us who had been here all or most of the time, and a little nightly party broke out to celebrate the day's accomplishments and lament the shortcomings and failures.
Suddenly, a pressman appeared in the lobby with newspapers. We jumped up and scurried to the pressroom, where the skeletal crew was swarming over the screaming press like fire ants on a potato chip.
We stood there smiling while the stone-faced pressmen checked the colors and made adjustments to the scores of little knobs. Presswork is dangerous and requires focus. The first few hundred or so newspapers are tossed during the tweaking process. Check, tweak and toss. Check, tweak and toss.
Finally, it was good, and the papers were allowed to roll down the line to the mail room, where they would be bundled, sent the loading dock and onto the vehicles of the awaiting carriers for delivery. We grinned. Photographer Pete Churton snapped pictures. Publisher Aubrey Webb shed a tear.
Considering the building damage, many of us thought it would take longer to get the press rolling.
But there it was, roaring in the heart of our busted building, howling louder than Hurricane Rita at her zenith.
posted by Brian Pearson at 9:31 AM
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