I worked as a newspaperman for nearly 30 years, and I had the opportunity to cover a lot of great stories all over the country.
I worked at big papers and small ones, for small independent papers and big chains. But in all those years — good times and bad times — I don’t think I ever enjoyed myself more than the two years I spent in Greeley, Colorado, in the late ’80s.
It was the fifth of my eight newspapers, and it was the second smallest paper that employed me. But more than anywhere else I ever worked, I was working for a great boss at a paper that did things right.
During the two years I was sports editor, the Denver Broncos went to the Super Bowl twice, and I don’t think there were any other papers as small as 25,000 circulation that sent a reporter to Southern California for the entire week both years.
The Broncos were our big deal, more so than in most of the other cities on the Front Range north of Denver. Back when I was there, the Broncos spent their training camp at the University of Northern Colorado in our city. During two-a-days, fans were on the sidelines watching their heroes get in shape for the season.
We did some really good work around training camp. We were an evening paper and basically had a noon deadline for that evening’s paper. During my second summer, I sent a reporter out to the morning practice to come back with a few tidbits that would be as timely to our readers as the evening news on TV.
I always had a lot of fun as a columnist in writing about training camp. In the early summer of 1987, I had been joking in my column about having a crush on the lovely Rosanna Arquette, and in a mid-June column about what a huge deal training camp was, I wrote about the Jet Set coming to Greeley.
Rosanna had called me at the office — in my column — and said she needed to know what luxury hotels were available for her and her friends Madonna and Fergie (remember her?). I told her there were one, and mentioned that I had an extra bedroom in my apartment.
“We don’t know each other that well,” she responded.
“Yet,” I said.
“Ever,” she replied.
Of course I got the last laugh. I told her that fans watching practices couldn’t get that close to the players, but with my press pass, I could be right next to them on the sidelines.
“How big is your extra bedroom?” she asked.
Of course I had to end it on a note my readers would appreciate.
“You’re so lucky,” she said.
“Why?” I asked, although I knew the answer.
“The rest of us just visit,” she said. “You get to live there.”
Yeah, it was half a lifetime ago, but it was so much fun.