That’s the international copy-editing symbol for “end of story,” and when Ralph Moore silently pushed those buttons on his cursedly modern Macintosh Powerbook laptop computer, the grizzled old newspaper reporter savored the thrill. Though it was hardly the sensuous clack of a beloved old Royal typewriter, it was the final touch on the story of his unstoried career.
This calls for something special, he thought. His suitcase was packed and folded open on his hotel bed, leaving his plastic, portable bottle of Jameson’s within arm’s reach. Before Ralph sent this baby off to the mother paper, he had earned a sip of the best whiskey on the planet.
A reporter can feel the difference between just another story and the kind that will make the most cynical editor tear up the front page with gusto. This one was more. It felt like a Pulitzer Prize winner. Not bad for a 64-year-old scribe some whispered never had a prime to get past.Read full story