Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1963-09-25
Jim Bishop:
Reporter
Summer Spowns
Another Autumn


mer. Good radiance. l worked
through 1t like a brewy horse
on an uphill route. Like a
squirrel storing nuts. Or vice
versa. There are no regrets
here. It's still a free country.
l worked because l chose to
work. Still, when a man
lives on the edge of the sea,
and says he didn't 60 swim
ming once, and never got on
his boat, it's too late for
shock treatment.
l got on someone elSe's
boat once. Nelson Benedict
is a sports columnist. He
bought a 30-footer with a
cough. We went out to sea
one day in the late summer.
He knows all the fish by
their first names. The only
one caught that day was by
my wife. She got an 81
pound blue. It's still in the
freezer. So, for that matter,
is she.
OTHER THAN THAT, il
was columns, books and tele-
vision. Secretly, I like to
work and l like to complain
that it's killing me. Once, l
took a night off to 60 to Otto
Preminger's house to see his
twin babies, but he took the
guests off to see a motion
picture called "The Cardinal"
instead. It's a Photographic
masterpiece, but so are the
babies.
l finished the novel, "Hon-
eymoon Diary" and started
THE Trial Of the Rosen-
bergs." I've been research
ing the Rosenberg book since
December II, 1855. These
people weren't very bright,
but they died for an theology
whose virtue excapes me.
Then l met Seymour Reed,
president of Official Films,
and he asked me to narrate
a TV series called Battle
line" Any reporter who can
read aloud to his children can
become a narrator. So be-
gan to read aloud into a mi
crophone, and l was surprised
at how clever some other writ
er's words sounded coming
off my doormat tongue.
One of the difficult phrases
was Fifth Flax" 1t was in
the middle of a sentence
about a German antiaircraft
gunner at PloeSti and l found
it impossible to say Ploesti
and Fifth Flax. After seven
tries, during which the direc-
tor, Russ Raycroft, fell on the
floor laughing, l gave up.
Lets just say he was killed"
l suggested. He shook his
head. ''No," he said, ''let's
just say you were :"
The children had a fair
summer. Ginny and her tribe
of Comanches went off to
Massachusetts to see the Ere
chettes. Gayle went to Miami
Beach, and fell in love witt.
Joe Harris family-Size pa
CODA. Karen and Kathleen
got to New York on a couple
of trips, and spent the rest of
the summer in the swimming
pool.
Early in the summer, we
tired of the news on televi-
sion because they covered but
one story - pickets. Night
after night we saw nothing
but pickets at construction
sites, pickets in front of
schools, pickets b Ell n d
schools, pickets picketing
pickets. So we picketed tele-
vision news. One twist of the
dial and we wrung the pic
lures neck.
THE MAIN THING is that
the work which had to be
done, was done. Work, like
a woman, is always as dull
or attractive as you make it.
Mine is always a challenge
never conquered. My mortal
enemy remains the same
time. The clock and | know
this, and we both know that,
in the end, the clock must
win.
Over the oaks Of Rumson,
N. j., the sun moves a shade
toward the South each eve
ming. The mornings are crys'
tai crisp and, behind the
house, silver fish break the
surface and wrinkle the river
A new season is here. and
listen to the monotonous thun
der of the surf as though
autumn and l had not me-
before.
l walk the heavy sand
alone, thinking Of the new
season and the new stories
In a few hours, the tide viii
be in and the footprints viii
be erased as clearly a!
though no man had evel
walked there.
This also happens to stories
They make a brief impress
sion, and are washed away BY
the thunder Of tomorrow,
presses.