27/2/98

Miracle on Yirmiyahu Street

Ever wonder what it's really like at a big-city daily?

    Maybe I shouldn't be doing this, being privy to all the inside stuff as I am, but I thought you might like to know what goes on at our top-secret editorial meetings.
    You have to remember, this is the ol' Jay Pee, not the Kamloops Bugle, or the Worcestershire Women's Weekly; we get more news in one hour here than most countries get throughout their entire history. That's why we have the best newspaperpeople in the biz: hard-boiled, quick-thinking, piercingly decisive. You'll see what I mean, during one typical session recently...
    "We all here? Where's Nissim?"
    "We sent him out to buy cookies."
    "Aw, hell. He always gets those coconut swirls. I hate coconut."
    "We'll have to start without him, sir. We have to close Page Two in three hours."
    "Right. Anything happen today?"
    "Don't think so."
    "PM say anything?"
    "Don't think so. Just something about he's still committed to the peace process, I think."
    "Good. Put it on Page One."
    "Shirley, any pix come in?"
    "Yeah. JNF sent us something with an Arab kid and a Jewish kid planting something somewhere."
    "Color?"
    "Green, mostly."
    "Good. Page One. We got anything for Page Two?"
    "House ads."
    "Nissim! You got the cookies?"
    "Of course. Coconut swirls."
    "Aw, shit."
    "That's the thanks I get. I volunteer to run out, and I get caught in the rain, just so you can have --"
    "It's raining?"
    "A little."
    "Great. A weather story. Jerry, have Haim write something up, quick; Page One."
    "Dunno about that. Haim's not answering his phone. He's mad because his mother up in Haifa is mad at him because she didn't get the paper delivered all week."
    "Anybody know anything about this?"
    "Yeah. Our Haifa distributor quit."
    "Dammit, that could be an exclusive. Shmulik, put Judy on the story, have her call Haim's mother for quotes. Page One. Schwartz, any political scandals?"
    "Frankly, what there is we could just reprint the story from Monday. Everyone involved says they're not involved, and everybody says everybody else is a liar."
    "Awright, we'll go with the last person to call somebody a liar, let's get 20 inches of that."
    "Page One?"
    "Page One. Pass me a cookie. Bela, how much space we have left?"
    "Um, all of Two, Three, Four and Back Page, not counting the Lotto results. We've filled half an inch, all told."
    "What about the Foreign Page? Dammit, Yoram, find me a hijacking, a coup, a byelection, a derailment, something. Is Yeltsin still alive? Clinton must've done something today. Or O.J. Check on Chechnya, Bosnia, the usual places."
    "Well, I have something on a mad cow scare in Monrovia. No, Moravia."
    "Can you fill half of Four with it?"
    "With a five-column file photo of a cow, I can."
    "Go with it. Jeez, it's like somebody replaced the ozone layer with chloroform. What a dead day. Yeah, that's our lead: "No news worldwide, first time in history." Harry, see if you can dig up some filler stuff from Hold."
    "It's pretty dated, you know."
    "No kidding. That's why it's in Hold."
    "I mean, it's very dated. It was typed. On a typewriter. A manual typewriter."
    "OK, forget it. We'll run a Best of Ferd'nand on Three, with a promo plug on One. Big. Harriet!"
    "Sir?"
    "Got any dental floss? I've got coconut jammed in between every tooth."
    At this point, everyone springs into action: writers writing, editors editing, bosses bossing, secretaries secreting. It all looks like one of those great old romantic newspaper movies, except that there's no copy boy running about, no clickety-clacking ticker-tape machine, no cigar smoke, and no news. (Also, no ads, but we won't get into that.)
    Is the Editor worried?
    Nah. This is Israel, right?
    As any oldtimer knows, a quarter to deadline is still just 15 minutes too early...
    "Omigod! Hold Page One!"
    "Forget it. Page One is closed. Put it on Two."
    "But sir, the prime minister just resigned. And the stock market crashed."
    "Page One! Push the weather story to Three. But fast!"
    "Hey boss, get this: some Israeli won Miss Universe and we got exclusive pix. Boss, ya gotta put this on One!"
    "Yank Ferd'nand and fill Three with it, push the coconut story to 12. I mean the weather story. And for chrissakes, no cleavage, I get death threats every time we show anything below the collarbone. Awright, let's close. If there's anything else, it better be damn good."
    "Uh, sir..."
    "Don't tell me."
    "Just came in. An Iraqi 747 on the way to Mecca. Landed in Tel Aviv 10 minutes ago. Says on the wires the pilot hijacked himself. He wants to convert. And that's not all. The Iraqis are saying it's an Israeli plot and they want Saddam back. Oh, by the way, Leeds beat Liverpool 2-1."
    "Page One!"
    "I think we've run out of room on One."
    "Sir, Joe from Ads wants to see you, says it's important."
    "Tomorrow. Tell him tomorrow. Aw, Joe, not now..."
    "You'll thank me for this, sir: Boomer mentioned you were short on copy so I mentioned this to Alice in the Tel Aviv office, who mentioned this to her boyfriend who works in an ad agency, who mentioned this to his boss who pulled some really big strings and got us a quarter-page ad, Page One must."
    "Kill it."
    "What?! No! Kill me instead, please!"
    "That's it, paper's closed. I don't care if -- nah, I better not say it. Dave, call Itzik, tell him we're done. Start the press!"
    "Stop the press!"
    "Who said that?"
    "Sorry, sir. I know it's last minute and everything, but I just got a call from Sylvia. Some settlers are demanding Hebron back, and I wouldn't bother you with this seeing as how it's after deadline and all that, but according to Sylvia they've taken the National Grid hostage and they're promising to blow it up in 15 minutes if their demand isn't met and half the army's been called in and I don't think we'll even get the inking done before the electricity goes out across the country and I checked with Itzik and he says the generator is out for repairs and, well, I just thought you'd like to know. You want this on Page One?"
    We have days like that maybe five, six times a week. It seems like a miracle every time the paper gets out. But it does. We haven't missed a day yet. Of course, there's no telling what would happen if one day nothing happened.