It’s News to Me

I’ve been thinking lately about my late friend and former colleague, Harry Jupiter. Harry was the quintessential old-school reporter, sportswriter, publicist and storyteller. I rarely saw him without his two ever-present trademarks – the fedora tilted back on his head, with his card stuck in the hatband, and a cigarette stuck between his lips.

We worked together at the San Francisco Chronicle in the 1970s and saw one another frequently during the 1980s after I left the paper for a job with the San Francisco Giants. Harry retired in 1993, and every time I saw him we had this running joke.

“Hey, Harry, how’s it going’?” I would ask.

“Couldn’t be better,” Harry would say. “In fact, I’m writing a book.”

“Really? What’s it about?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t actually written anything yet. But I have a great title.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Everyone Says I Should Write a Book.’”

Having shared parallel careers in journalism, baseball and PR, I’ve been thinking of Harry lately for two reasons.

First, everyone says I should write a book. They tell me I have stories people might like to hear about my experiences in news, sports, public relations and life. Many of my friends and family know I covered the Zodiac, Zebra, Patty Hearst and Moscone-Milk cases for the Chronicle. And there was the 1989 World Series earthquake and the inspiring saga of Dave Dravecky during my years as the Giants’ publicist. Not to mention the fun of heading up corporate communications aboard the Fogdog.com rocket ride to e-commerce stardom back in the day.

But not many people know about my mother’s incredibly popular yet discreet neighborhood gay bar in San Francisco’s upscale Presidio Heights in the closeted ‘60s, the Club Dori. An odd mid-career switch for a woman who graduated with an English degree from Stanford at 19 alongside William Hewlett and David Packard.

Also, there are few around today who know much about my father’s career as a newsman and author, writing about Hollywood stars, moguls and mobsters (“Bugsy,” for one.) Trivia note: I was named after the warden of San Quentin Prison, Clinton T. Duffy, who collaborated with my father on his autobiography at the time I was born.

So I can’t disagree that the stories are in me, and I am working on that memoir. But that will take some time. (And no, Harry, I don’t have a title, but I have written a few chapters.)

In the meantime, everyone says I should write a blog – the modern day substitute for writing a book a little at a time every day or every week, only everyone gets to read along. Which brings me to the second reason I am thinking about Harry Jupiter.

This month’s fortieth anniversary of the moon landing reminded me of the story about the day back in 1962 that Jupiter was standing behind the batting cage at Candlestick Park, watching San Francisco Giants rookie pitcher Gaylord Perry hitting wicked line drives in batting practice.

While the details of the encounter have varied over the years, the common lore has it that Jupiter turned to Giants manager Alvin Dark and told him: “That Perry kid’s going to hit some home runs for you.”

“There’ll be a man on the moon before Gaylord Perry hits a home run,” scoffed Dark.

Seven years later, on July 20, 1969, less than an hour after Apollo 11 touched down on the lunar surface, Perry launched his first major league home run off the Dodgers’ Claude Osteen at the ‘Stick. (He hit only five more in his career.)

It seems the older I get the more things happen that remind me of a good story, and I have somehow found myself at the center of more than my share of them.

Since my passions are writing and news, the title of this blog seemed appropriate. It was the name of my father’s Chronicle gossip column in the early ‘50s. When Herb Caen defected to the Examiner for a few years, Dean Jennings was among Caen’s replacements, if such a phrase ever adequately applied to anyone.

Over the past four decades, I have written literally thousands of newspaper and magazine articles, press releases, news advisories, speeches, op-eds, proposals, communications plans, newsletters, brochures, white papers, captions, you name it.

But they were all about or for others.

Professional journalists learn to stay out of the story, on the sidelines, observing and reporting. Alas, all that has changed. Now ‘citizen’ journalists abound on the Internet with their own perspectives. The transition is difficult for me, but it will probably be a lot more interesting and fun. I hope you think so, too.

Book, blog, blank paper – it’s not important where to begin.

Everyone says I should write. Period. So here goes. And hats off to you, Harry.