It was so interesting reading the “I Know a Story” column in the Sunday, Oct 26, LNP newspaper. It was written by former New Era newspaper reporter John Hoober about his introduction to the Lancaster Newspapers at 8 W. King St., back in the 1960s.
This article piqued my interest as I also entered the realm of our Lancaster Newspapers world in the early ’60s as a new high school graduate.
However, my newly hired position was one of lowly admin support, not that of a college-trained newspaper reporter. In summer of ’62 I walked through the impressive front doors of 8 W. King St. as an 18-year-old eager to begin my introduction to the “working world.”
I was thrilled to be hired as a secretary for the director of national advertising. At this time, both the national and retail advertising departments were in the rear of the second floor.
READ: He remembers early days as New Era newspaper reporter in 1960s [I Know a Story]
I was very embarrassed on my first working day when my boss requested the files for the Gulden’s Mustard account — and I was mortified when I couldn’t find them. Since I grew up with only French’s Mustard in our home, this was a foreign name to me. And, my boss’s New England accent didn’t help my predicament.
But, it wasn’t long before I became acclimated to the newspaper world and enjoyed working with our department’s account managers. The typewriters were a step above the manual ones I trained on in school and I became quite proficient with my IBM Selectric as well as with taking very copious shorthand dictations from my boss.
One miscellaneous duty on my desk was providing newspaper “tear sheets” that featured the ads for my co-workers’ clients. Some of these issues were already in our department, but some had to be retrieved from a storage room located up another set of steep, narrow stairs.
Since an elevator to the upper floors wasn’t in place at that time, my high-heeled shoes were the first item of my career girl’s wardrobe to disappear. I also remember that smoking in the workplace was still very evident in the ’60s. One of the department managers had an office to the rear of our floor and the stale smoke from his occasional cigar was most unpleasant.
One memory of my first year’s Christmas season was when employees from our floor gathered in the stairwell to sing Christmas carols. A very memorable occasion was the year my boss treated our department to a holiday lunch at the Hamilton Club. As a young girl, I was quite impressed, not being used to such lavish, upscale dining.
Another very unsettling memory was the day one of the retail salesmen rushed into the department telling us President Kennedy had been assassinated. With that news, along with the Cuban Missile Crisis two years prior, I wasn’t sure I was ready to face this newly entered adulthood.
After working in this department for several years, progress was made with having an elevator installed. On rare occasions I found myself riding this elevator with members of top management. At that time I was an impressionable young girl and so flattered to have a Lancaster Newspapers vice president greet me, a lowly secretary, so cordially and wish me a good day.
The several years I spent at 8 W. King St. hold so many special memories.
The decades certainly fly by quickly. It’s been 59 years since I left the Lancaster Newspaper offices to become a new mom. It was my introduction to adult life in the workplace, to forming good work ethics and interacting with some amazing co-workers.
I’ve enjoyed reading about subsequent leadership changes, building modifications and the amazing success of the Lancaster Newspapers. It was a short time period in my life but a very valuable introduction to the rewarding and productive life this senior has since enjoyed.
The author lives in Lititz.
If you know an interesting, true story, please write it in 600 words or less and send it to Mary Ellen Wright, LNP editorial department, P.O. Box 1328, Lancaster, PA 17608-1328, or email it to features@lnpnews.com. (No fiction or poetry, please). Please include your phone number and the name of the town you live in.
