My work as a Washington journalist began in 1970 when my husband, Murray Flander, and I moved to D.C. from Coalinga, CA. We had been putting out our newspaper, The Coalinga Record, a prize- winning weekly, for the past eight years.
Murray had accepted the position of press secretary to the newly elected U.S. Sen. Alan Cranston, D-Ca. Subsequently, over the decade, I was a copy editor for the Washington Post, and worked for the Washington Daily News and Washington Star, mostly as a general assignment reporter. My arrival in the Washington press corps coincided with the resurgence of the…
The Washington Star, November 17, 1974
Every year about this time, the siren call of fashion lures me, a willing victim, to the shores of financial destruction. But this year, those insistent entreaties seem to be going over my head. I’m barely 5 feet tall, after all. Since the fashion industry has decided to take the plunge on hemlines again, I keep seeing ads showing 9-foot models wearing 6-foot long skirts that sweep below their knees.
These same models are enveloped in “steamer coats” and bundled up in thick-knitted sweaters with wide swathes of fur hanging from collars and cuffs…
By Judy Flander, January 5 2021, Philadelphia, PA.
John Creveling is sitting in his “Man Cave,” which is what his wife calls the third floor of their house, which is his sanctuary. The space has his gym and his many collections — books, coins, cameras, paints, guitars, a harmonica and more. They all get his attention but since he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease his activity has been progressively limited.
It’s been eleven years since he learned he had Parkinson’s and three years since he published his invaluable book, “More Than What You See.” The book has given heart to…
I have been addicted to newspaper and magazine advertising for years now: in fact, it is among my favorite reading matter.
I figure there are roughly three levels or kinds of advertising (there are many finer distinctions to be made but not this week):
1. The black, blaring kinds of ads (cut rate drug stores are among those who use them) that fill every inch of space with reading matter.
2. Simple ads with good pictures and descriptive copy, enough white space and featuring products in my price range.
3. The kind of ads they run in the New Yorker.
Out in the backyard things are quieter these days. The sound of Civil War artillery has ceased. Armed attacks against the Nazis are no more,
Instead, there are the more ordered sounds of serious young men at work on manual of arms’ exercise. The silence is broken by short orders barked by whoever is top sergeant at the moment and by giggles when confusion reigns,
The boys learned how to go through these paces about a month ago from the Big Boss who sternly taught them rifle drill and a no-nonsense attitude.
There are, however, still some cut -ups who…
Before the Flanders moved to Coalinga and Judy and Murray became the editors and publishers of the The Record, the family moved to the Mohave Desert town of Apple Valley and Murray (this was before Murff) became the Editor of the the Victor Press, the semi-weekly newspaper in nearby Victorville.
Judy worked there part-time as the ‘society page’ editor and contributed the earliest versions of Personally Yours. Not many clippings remain from those days, but here are a few to get the flavor of life in California.
To get started, here Judy is…the proud owner of a new radio!
Last week we had, what I mean, a TIGHT newspaper … 800 inches of editorial matter. Compare this with the 1,500 inches we had the week before and a comfortable (for me) average of about 1,100 and it will help explain why the roof fell in last Thursday! My dear dependable correspondents didn’t get in at all. There wasn’t a news item that wasn’t chopped off from one to three paragraphs.
Stopped in Middle
We just stopped in the middle of our report on the Apple Valley Flower Show story (con’t. this week) and we have some mighty lovely pictures…
Did you ever stop to ponder what you’d do if you had to do without hot water? Well, I never did, either. But if I had to write a treatise on the subject, I’d be pretty well informed due to an unplanned experiment last week.
My hot water heater went off. The trouble was diagnosed as a defective thermocouple which could only be obtained in San Bernardino. And what with one thing and another we had cold water for over a week. …
One Saturday morning recently, as I buzzed through the living room enroute from one household chore to another, I was suddenly rooted in my tracks by the sight of Fury pacing his corral.
Could this mean a new little Fury was about to enter the world? I just had to wait and see.
Well, sure enough, back at the ranch mean old Aunt Harriet (who really had a heart of gold) was about to deliver a baby.
What I mean is a BABY, not a colt, as one might naturally have assumed. Television glances like these may just…
We spent the weekend on a newspaperman’s holiday, attending an editor’s conference on the Stanford campus. We had a marvelous time surrounded by colleagues and addressed by speakers, many of whom were witty and articulate as well as informative. It was our first visit to Palo Alto. We stayed in a dorm near the Tressider Memorial Union where the meetings were held. The campus was green and lovely, the weather balmy, and the entire experience stimulating.
One evening, there was a champagne reception on a patio at the Sunset Magazine building in Menlo Park. The building is adobe and wood…
American Journalist. As a newspaper reporter in Washington, D.C., surreptitiously covered the 1970s’ Women’s Liberation Movement.