Several weeks ago, I struck up a conversation about the craft of writing with a restaurant server named Tyler. I told him I was working on a novel, and he apparently expressed literary ambitions of his own. I said an aspiring novelist needs to have at least three traits: writing skills (the ability to put words into print), a vivid imagination and interesting life experiences. I gave him samples of my writing and a book of short stories to offer encouragement.
I think I have all three traits, but I will focus on just one – life experiences — because some newspaper editors over the years have harshly criticized my writing. I have had interesting experiences during four decades spent in newspapers, both while at work and off the job. I have met famous people in politics and the entertainment industry, including actress Bo Derek, singer Toni Tennille, the late U.S. Sen. John McCain and former California Gov. Jerry Brown.
I also have met ordinary people who met tragic fates and became famous because of the circumstances that led to their deaths. For instance, I interviewed an aspiring humanitarian aide worker who received a local award from a leadership organization in 2007. She was willing to leave her comfortable middle-class lifestyle near Prescott, Ariz., to help the world’s less fortunate. Seven years later, a producer from CNN in New York City called me while I was working at another newspaper. I drew a blank when he asked about the young lady and thought he was talking about someone else who attended Northern Arizona University. Then I Googled her and instantly remembered meeting her. Press accounts emerged of the young woman being kidnapped by ISIS in Syria and held as a sex slave. ISIS reportedly tried to extract a large ransom from her family, but the Obama Administration opposed it. She was brutally murdered. The Trump Administration sought retribution and launched a mission to assassinate the Islamic State commander who held her captive. Then-President Trump invited her parents to his State of the Union address and recognized them in the gallery.
Less sensational, I recall striking up a conversation before the pandemic with a businessman who opened a gentlemen’s club in East Texas. We met outside the Gregg County Sheriff’s Office, on the fifth floor of the county building in Longview, Texas. Some women apparently hired to work at the club accompanied him, along with an employee who invited me to take in the entertainment. A few months later, an editor assigned me to go to an address where two bodies were found. The property was kind of eerie, with several cars in various stages of inoperability, and I took photos. When I was about ready to drive away, a family in a vehicle pulled over and asked whether I needed help. I told them what I was doing, and a woman said, “My brother was murdered.” I gave her my business card, and she called a week later. She mentioned her brother’s name, and it dawned upon me he was the businessman whom I met in the county building. Sheriff’s deputies found his body and that of a young woman, both black. The sister identified her, and I found a Facebook posting in which the woman announced plans to attend a historically black college.
I called the college, but its administration did not return calls. The sheriff’s office denied my request to find out whether she applied for a “sexually oriented business” license, or S.O.B., to become a stripper, citing she was part of an active investigation.
The sheriff’s office did not release the names of the two victims until after a colleague filed a public records request. I retired, moved 1,200 miles away and do not know whether any arrests have been made, let alone a motive for the killings.
In 1985, an editor assigned me to cover an election of an improvement association board – which served as the equivalent of a city council in an unincorporated community – after a former member told us he would run to serve on the board. The man had served four years in a state prison for killing his wife, apparently in a fit of rage. His parole officer told me – after the story ran – that he had been a “model inmate.” He did not get enough votes to get elected. However, a board member confided afterward she would have voted for him, adding the man’s deceased wife “deserved” her fate. I did not use that comment, but my story described the crime for which he served time. One of his supporters came to the newspaper office after the story’s publication and got confrontational with my editor. “Keep your quarter,” he said. Six months later, I went out to lunch and the former candidate recognized me. “I could have done something to you,” he said politely.
I’ve had other memorable experiences over the years that were not as consequential (i.e., nobody got killed). While being a newspaper reporter provided such opportunities, other occupations and life experiences can inspire novels. People have stories to tell, whether they prosecuted or defended accused killers, arrested criminal suspects, saved people from a burning building, saved lives in an emergency room or performed other acts of heroism – or cowardice. Even a restaurant server like Tyler might have interesting stories to tell, such as dealing with demanding patrons and receiving paltry tips. Two women who work in a sandwich shop in Prescott were amused recently when they received a $40 tip on a to-go order, about $10 higher than the bill. I also know a former server who felt slighted a few years ago when he served two managers for a restaurant company that opposes marriage equality. He said they did not leave him a tip, and speculated because he is gay.
I lost touch with Tyler, who apparently quit his job and left the area. In any case, I hope I have inspired his second act.