This month marks 50 years of me, your humble correspondent, getting paid to practice journalism. Now, many things are in play. First, I'm an old guy. Second, I've seen a lot and literally have met thousands of people, including nine presidents. Nine. For a Levittown, Long Island kid, this is beyond the pale - whatever the "pale" is.
It was January 1975 when I rolled into Scranton, Pennsylvania, to work at WNEP-TV as a reporter. Fresh off obtaining a Master's Degree in Broadcast Journalism from Boston University, I was ready to rock the media world. But reality soon bit me in the behind.
Not only was I unpolished on air, but my wages were so low that paying rent was a problem if I wanted to eat. So, I asked the station manager for guidance.
He told me I could make another $25 a week if I wrote the script for "Uncle Ted's Ghoul School," a Saturday night monster mash show that featured horror classics like "Wasp Woman."
I produced the show, and the rest is history, as they say. Uncle Ted was frequently inebriated, but it didn't matter. My one-liners about Dracula's Daughter catapulted me to fame and fortune. Humble beginnings? You betcha, as Sarah Palin might say.
So here we are. Five decades of bloviating and causing trouble. And now, with a new Trump administration, there are still miles to go before I sleep.
At least, I hope so.
See you this evening for the No Spin News.
