THE BEST VIEW: Memories of a journalist

by Norma Best Boucher

The best teacher I ever had was not a teacher in the conventional sense. He wasn’t in a classroom with chalkboards and books. His domain was the Morning Sentinel editorial room with ringing phones, noisy teletypes, and two-fingered typists pounding out stories on antiquated manual typewriters.

I was only 17 years old when I first met Robert Drake, managing editor. Determined to be a journalist, I applied for a job for experience. I was to learn later that I was only one of many young people he had helped over a period of many years, and as school teachers follow their students’ futures, he would follow ours.

I learned more about journalism during my four summers under his direction that I ever learned from any textbook or college professor. Each summer he guided me from obituaries and weddings to interviews and urban renewal feature stories.

I vividly remember the large open editorial room with abutting desks where a lowly beginner such as I was allowed to learn from such professionals as Clayton LaVerdiere, Ken Morton, Harland Durrell, Cy McMullen, Bess Carter and Lee Allen. Little did they know the pride and excitement I felt just working among them.

I smile when I remember such times as when photographer Dick Maxwell and I rushed to the Waterville airport to see Frank Sinatra, only to find his wife Mia Farrow whisking off in a private jet.

Or when expensively dressed, brusque-mannered national newsmen swarmed the editor’s office requesting the newspaper’s files on a very popular Sen. Edmund Muskie, Democratic nominee for the Vice-Presidency.

I especially remember writing a short Christmas story that Mr. Drake published on the editorial page. I found the clipping, yellowed and tattered, in my father’s wallet, and I realized that he had carried it with him until the day he died.

I learned a great deal more than writing from Mr. Drake. By his example, I learned that integrity is synonymous with journalists, and that the absence of my by-line still means no less than my best.

I learned that sometimes the good old days aren’t always that long ago and that special people and special times should never be forgotten.

I will remember Bob Drake always with respect, with gratitude, and with affection.

I only regret that I waited 25 years to thank him.