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Finally he confides to an editor, who signs him to a three-book contract. The TV news reader says the President has come there to create ‘a photo opportunity.’ Here is President Reagan on television again. “I have never read of anyone dying of a falling potato,” he wrote. Baker occasionally hammered at uncaring government or big business, but frontal attacks were not his stock in trade. ©2020 Verizon Media. His voice was gravelly but soft, a faded echo of rural Virginia: perfect for the barbed lash or the awful oxymoron.And he was as devilish in person as in print. …”His targets were legion: the Super Bowl, Miss America, unreadable menus, everything on television, trips with children, the jogging craze, the perils of buying a suit, loneliness and book-of-the-month clubs. He graduated from Johns Hopkins University in 1947 and began his journalism career that year as a police reporter with The Baltimore Sun. Baker in 1951 at The Baltimore Sun, where his newspaper career began.Mr. The novel wound up in the attic, but he married Mimi, as she was called, in 1950. The President and the eagle are in the same room enjoying ‘a photo opportunity,’ according to the TV news voice,” Baker wrote in 1984.“His environmental policy has been characterized by a reluctance to do anything that would create difficulty for the business community. The feet become television celebrities. One day, as the deadline approached, a potato fell past his window. Trying to keep out of a rut, he wrote “An American in Washington” (1961), a guide to the capital, detailing the techniques of name-dropping, the importance of lunch and advice on how to talk endlessly without saying anything. It was not much, but he took it: $30 a week as a night police reporter.For two years, he phoned in robberies, fires and mayhem, and slept late.
He drew upon those experiences for his column, writing as a curious and wide-eyed outsider who could leave an adversary buried under the weight of common sense.“On television we see President Reagan in a cave. Based at first in Washington, he recalled that he had to feel his way in the new genre of spoof and jape. Taking down an orange, looking for the price, putting it back.”“Old people at the supermarket are being crushed and nobody is even screaming,” he wrote.Mr. His topics grew more varied, less tied to news events and more to the trappings of ordinary life. Looking back to the column's beginnings, Baker once wrote: "At the Times in those days the world was pretty much confined to Washington news, national news and foreign news. He was 93.The cause was complications of a fall, his son Allen said.Mr. “I didn’t. He found he was hooked on journalism, and his skills — speed, accuracy and style — earned him a plum in 1952 when The Sun sent him to London as a correspondent. All rights reserved. He cut back to one a week in July 1997 and retired “Observer” on Dec. 25, 1998.His last column, “A Few Words at the End,” on Christmas, “a day on which nobody reads a newspaper anyhow,” spoke of his love affair with newspapers.“Thanks to newspapers,” he wrote, “I have made a four-hour visit to Afghanistan, have seen the Taj Mahal by moonlight, breakfasted at dawn on lamb and couscous while sitting by the marble pool of a Moorish palace in Morocco and once picked up a persistent family of fleas in the Balkans.”Lanky and laconic, Mr. Baker was reminiscent of Jimmy Stewart’s reporter in the 1948 movie “Call Northside 777.” He had a rumpled, tired look, as if he had pored over old court records all night under a dim bulb and come to the prison, still skeptical, to see the wrongly convicted man.
Finally he confides to an editor, who signs him to a three-book contract. The TV news reader says the President has come there to create ‘a photo opportunity.’ Here is President Reagan on television again. “I have never read of anyone dying of a falling potato,” he wrote. Baker occasionally hammered at uncaring government or big business, but frontal attacks were not his stock in trade. ©2020 Verizon Media. His voice was gravelly but soft, a faded echo of rural Virginia: perfect for the barbed lash or the awful oxymoron.And he was as devilish in person as in print. …”His targets were legion: the Super Bowl, Miss America, unreadable menus, everything on television, trips with children, the jogging craze, the perils of buying a suit, loneliness and book-of-the-month clubs. He graduated from Johns Hopkins University in 1947 and began his journalism career that year as a police reporter with The Baltimore Sun. Baker in 1951 at The Baltimore Sun, where his newspaper career began.Mr. The novel wound up in the attic, but he married Mimi, as she was called, in 1950. The President and the eagle are in the same room enjoying ‘a photo opportunity,’ according to the TV news voice,” Baker wrote in 1984.“His environmental policy has been characterized by a reluctance to do anything that would create difficulty for the business community. The feet become television celebrities. One day, as the deadline approached, a potato fell past his window. Trying to keep out of a rut, he wrote “An American in Washington” (1961), a guide to the capital, detailing the techniques of name-dropping, the importance of lunch and advice on how to talk endlessly without saying anything. It was not much, but he took it: $30 a week as a night police reporter.For two years, he phoned in robberies, fires and mayhem, and slept late.
He drew upon those experiences for his column, writing as a curious and wide-eyed outsider who could leave an adversary buried under the weight of common sense.“On television we see President Reagan in a cave. Based at first in Washington, he recalled that he had to feel his way in the new genre of spoof and jape. Taking down an orange, looking for the price, putting it back.”“Old people at the supermarket are being crushed and nobody is even screaming,” he wrote.Mr. His topics grew more varied, less tied to news events and more to the trappings of ordinary life. Looking back to the column's beginnings, Baker once wrote: "At the Times in those days the world was pretty much confined to Washington news, national news and foreign news. He was 93.The cause was complications of a fall, his son Allen said.Mr. “I didn’t. He found he was hooked on journalism, and his skills — speed, accuracy and style — earned him a plum in 1952 when The Sun sent him to London as a correspondent. All rights reserved. He cut back to one a week in July 1997 and retired “Observer” on Dec. 25, 1998.His last column, “A Few Words at the End,” on Christmas, “a day on which nobody reads a newspaper anyhow,” spoke of his love affair with newspapers.“Thanks to newspapers,” he wrote, “I have made a four-hour visit to Afghanistan, have seen the Taj Mahal by moonlight, breakfasted at dawn on lamb and couscous while sitting by the marble pool of a Moorish palace in Morocco and once picked up a persistent family of fleas in the Balkans.”Lanky and laconic, Mr. Baker was reminiscent of Jimmy Stewart’s reporter in the 1948 movie “Call Northside 777.” He had a rumpled, tired look, as if he had pored over old court records all night under a dim bulb and come to the prison, still skeptical, to see the wrongly convicted man.