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One day a few years ago I got an email asking if I’d like to take part in an HBO documentary about two legendary New York City newspaper columnists, Pete Hamill and Jimmy Breslin.
To capture the spirit of the time directors Jonathan Alter, John Block and Steve McCarthy interviewed me outside the former New York Post building on South Street, where I worked for 15 years.
That’s where I met and befriended Pete Hamill, my childhood hero. I loved Pete’s columns, and for a while we were fellow columnists at the Post.
Now and then, your wildest dreams do come true.
Roll the presses!
The New York Post, back in the 80s. Oh, my goodness.
It was like a giant ashtray furnished with battered desks, creaky chairs and clunky computers.
And what a cast of characters!
Boozy Brits, over-sexed Australians and side-of-the-mouth New Yorkers clashed in the world’s lowest-rent newsroom down on South Street.
Everybody smoked - cigars, cigarettes, even a pipe smoker or two. The floor was springy underfoot from all those butts that nobody had bothered to sweep up since Alexander Hamilton founded the paper in 1801.
The yelling, the cursing, the stress!
God, how I miss it.