Lounge
Miracle
Coconut
Ring
As many as six
For which I haven’t the skills
The end of an era
The whole staff of the White Bear Press met in St. Paul at Luigi’s Lounge, the old-school steakhouse/nightclub.
The seven of us, four men and three women, sat in a half-ring in a high-backed leather booth. We imagined we looked like an early ‘90s version of the Rat Pack, or a modern incarnation of the Algonquin Circle.
Gary was our editor, only because he had a master’s from Columbia University. Ill-equipped to be a supervisor, it was a miracle he got the job. He was a fast-talker from New Jersey, and he loved irritating moneyed Minnesota conservatives, such as the publisher, Gene, who spent most of the year on his yacht in Florida.
“I’ve been hired for a position for which I haven’t the skills,” Mike told us when he got the job. “So all I ask of you is that you write as you see best, and I’ll keep the boss off your backs.”
Luigi’s was Gary’s going away party. The column about gay rights was the breaking point. Our table slowly began to fill with empty glasses. We all drank hard liquor, because that’s what writers drank. Phil, the photographer, was harassed for ordering fruity-coconut drinks. “Hey, I like ‘em,” he said.
Mike ordered drinks two at at time. He had as many as six empty glasses in front of him, and he showed no effects of the alcohol.
Mike went on to work for a website that covered fishing tournaments, and he’s still there today. I loved that guy.
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