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Old Times
I miss the old days of journalism. It was a time when the news wasn’t all bad news; murders and crime were not splat across the front-page day in and day out. Sports had a lot of space, and the sports department was a constant shot of jokes as I walked by. Newspapers in those days were positive and enjoyed giving boosts to creative people and leaders trying to make a difference on the streets and off. It wasn’t non-stop violence against murder against kids killing kids in school yards. And it was safe for a young reporter to get emotional stories on the side streets of our city - and even a by-line. I never felt in danger no matter what part of town I visited, even in the late ‘60ties, as I learned the ropes on The Commercial Appeal, when Elvis was the biggest catch for an interview, and I assisted Ida Clemens the fashion writer. And then, in my Press-Scimitar days, Elvis died, probably the biggest news ever in Memphis until the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
 In the late ’70’s I loved going to work before dawn in the days when I reported for the afternoon paper, (the Press-Scimitar) and seeing the last dummy of the Front Page for that day’s production. A finished article was marked -30-, the End, so to speak. It was a time when, believe it or not, Michael Donahue was a copy boy. Yes, he had his hair even then.
When I started at age 20 (1959) before my senior year at college (having been on the staff of the college newspaper) I was thrown into a kind of life that I never anticipated could be so much fun - writing about people and working with people who had pretty good senses of humor. I was probably the only female in my school that had a job in the summer months but ironically, another intern that summer, who went to William & Mary, became a brief “boyfriend” and more ironically - the hand of God - he became a very important bishop in Virginia. They assigned him to the police and crime beat. What a world.
The Commercial Appeal was my training place - summer interns got all sorts of assignments - including not so exciting obituaries and notices about meetings. But sometimes the city desk boss, would say - Taylor - grab your pad. You’re going to see Elvis try out his new speed boat. Or dress nice because tomorrow you go to the funeral of Bishop Mason of Mason Temple (where I was the only white person in the entire church.) That summer I was the only female on city desk although there was one lady who had the tri-state desk to handle but the other ladies worked in the society department. I was grateful to not have to be in the society section. I wanted to learn about real life.
When I graduated and was hired full time, I was thrilled. Then when, 10 months into my career, I told the editor about my proposed trip to Africa, he said I could send reports by UPI wire service about my travels through Africa, which I did. They were published. I even learned what it meant to send stories through the wire services which took quite a bit of time to get from some country in Africa to the Memphis newspaper. And I learned a lot when I stayed with
Smith Hempstone, a well-known journalist, who later became an ambassador to Kenya. I stayed with them, thank God, and in the nights listened to their dachshunds barking most of the night as warnings that the Mau Mau, then revolutionary, could be on the move, as there was a war going on at that time.
After meeting my first husband in a mud hole in Ngorongoro Crater and living there for a year and a half, we returned to US just in time for my first daughter to be born. And I lived on my parents’ farm. Life went on. Marriage didn’t. I got involved with ice hockey and polo, both sports I loved. But about 1972 I was asked to work at the Press-Scimitar, the evening paper, where I had the best times of my life. The staff was great, fun, humorous and dedicated. And I really learned to be a journalist, so much so that my special friend and mentor, Merriman Smith (who wrote the first story of the assassination of John Kennedy and won a Pulitzer Prize for that), asked if I wanted to come work with him at UPI, the wire service at the White House. At that time in my life with two young girls and a baby son, I declined, and stayed with the Press Scimitar, where they made me Art Editor and Fashion Editor and general feature writer, which I loved with all my heart. My aim was to give women a chance to express themselves on those paper pages and I was able to interview all types of women, from social club presidents to business women breaking barriers, to artists and actresses, models and politicians, and even did a series on waitresses, where my heart was grabbed with pain by one young mother who had to dance and waitressed in a tough almost nude dance hall in order to support her two children and escape a violent husband.
The camaraderie of my fellow employees kept the early mornings jovial. And none were more humorous than columnist Bill Burk. He included me in his column one time which I am going to share with you here. I didn’t even remember this “accomplishment” until I came across this article just recently. He wrote:
“I enjoy Audrey West’s company. She’s a free spirit. We go way back to when actor John Gavin and Gigi Perreau came to Memphis to promote a movie, “Tammy and the Bachelor”. Gavin made some rather nasty remarks about Memphis and Elvis Presley and both Audrey and I panned him in our stories. Audrey is now my main supplier of giant lollipops (though she hasn’t brought any lately). She gets them at Hopper’s General Store in Germantown; says that’s the only place they are available in Shelby County. Every time I get to working with a lollipop in the office, people asked: Who are you trying to be? Kojak? I never watched that TV show until all those questions. Now I am hooked. On lollipops and Kojak.”
He also wrote about when “Audrey hosted Seouleymane Sako, first consul in the Ivory Coast embassy in Washington, the past four days. He was one of the foreign diplomats visiting Holiday Inns and Cook Industries She took Sako to see (her favorite singer) Roberta Flack, and to the Academy of Arts, the Renaissance Fair (where he met Queen Jennie of the Cotton Carnival), aboard the Memphis Queen, and then to Memphis State University for the celebration of the fourth anniversary of “Evening of Soul” (produced by the great Erma Clanton.).“All the original cast came back for this one-shot performance”, said Audrey, “to announced reaching a goal of $11,000 for the Isaac Hayes Scholarship Fund to be given to black students wanting to pursue drama. He (Sako) was fascinated. He was infatuated with Deborah Manning (who has sung with Isaac) (and other theater musicals at Memphis State) and Sako met her and the cast after.” I liked Bill Burk. He gave attention not only to “white” events, but also the amazing African Americans who were rising to the top not only in the music industry, but just as important people in our city. Bless you Bill Burk wherever you are.
A few days after Burk’s comments, I was the Miss Mystery Press contestant of the day. I had to ride the free MA busses in the downtown area. I wore a mid-calf length skirt and a red scarf with leopard print on it around my head (my addiction to scarves had started.) I carried a Press-Scimitar rolled up under my arm. I really don’t remember this, but it was written in the Press-Scimitar. Those searching, just had to find me and challenge me with the words “You are Miss Mystery Press, are you not?” If they discovered me, one of the first three people to do so, they won a prize. The next day a cowgirl dressed in full cowboy regalia of hat, western shirt, jeans, and boots was the Miss Mystery Press. What fun times back in those days. Places like First National Bank, Lowenstein’s, Memphis Transit Authority, Rhodes Jennings and Rhealee’s downtown stores, UP National Bank and Irby-Harris and Cantor’s Toggery all pitched in with gifts for the winners. These were the days when newspapers were not only full of information, but fun and creative. Miss those days.
In the Commercial. Appeal, columnist Lydel Sims often tossed me into one of his morning columns called Dear Unk and in fact his brilliant daughter Melanie, who to this day does the commentating for all horse events in international competitions on TV, married my brother and has done amazing things to keep the farm in great condition so that now it is being donated to University of Tennessee at Martin for research on horses and horticulture. They were always a great Germantown family. Anyway, Lydel Sims, the charming columnist needed the answer a question: “whether animals grazed with tails to the wind so it can face an enemy approaching from the front, but still be warned by the scent of an enemy creeping up from the rear.” I became his expert for a moment, even though his wife and two daughters were the best equestrians in those parts and would surely know the answers. So, he writes: “A. W. who had already observed that animals always face away from bad storms, had been checking up. On a recent morning, she tells me, she looked out the kitchen window and saw four horses, all facing west. The wind was from the east. That afternoon, the horses were facing south and sure enough, the wind was from the north. She figures horse-watching, or even cow-watching for that matter, is even better than looking at a wind gauge. But she added a somewhat disquieting note: “Have you noticed that our own human tendency in a bad storm is to turn our backs to the wind?” Gee, maybe we’re closer to the ruminants than we realized. Fodder, anybody?
Those were the good old days for sure. Thank you, God, for those memories.
~ Rev
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audrey@audreytaylorgonzalez.com
www.audreytaylorgonzalez.com
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