I had an internship at The Jewish Journal while I was in college. I was majoring in Political Science because I was fascinated with American politics, but I had always been a writer at heart, and wanted to see if I could minor in Journalism. An internship at a paper was a step in the right direction, and interning at a Jewish paper seemed appropriate since I was attending the University of Judaism. The staff was a mix of quirky, brainy and fun Jewish writers, lead by Editor-in-Chief Gene Lichtenstein, who was also the founding editor of The Jewish Journal.
I suppose Gene was your typical editor-in-chief; part curmudgeon, part intellectual, interesting, funny, and a bit of a Francophile, if I remember correctly. My fondest memory of Gene is when during a staff meeting, we were discussing a Jewish themed event that Bob Saget was hosting. Gene wouldn't stop referring to him at Bob Sagét, as if he wasn't a douchey comedian making sexual jokes about the Olsen twins, but a sophisticated, historically significant French literary figure. "Who is this Bob Sagét?" he said, and scratched his beard, while a few of us burst out laughing.
The internship was a great learning experience, and I must have done well because I landed a part-time job there, after graduating from college in 1996. I wrote mostly obituaries and calendar items but from time to time, I would be sent out to cover some local Jewish event, and that always made me feel like a legitimate reporter. If the Macabee Youth Games were the Olympics, that is.
In digging around my files, I found an article that I believe is my first official non-obituary published item. I was sent to cover an event called "Challahpalooza," which was sponsored by Davka magazine, and held at Canter's Deli. I'll let the work of 25-year-old Marika speak for itself.
The note outside the door says "Mira, this sucks. I'm next door ordering a shake. Come by, Linda"
It's pretty funny, it sort of reads like my writing, just a bit rougher, and slightly harsh. If I had written it today, I may have been a bit more subtle in getting my point across, but it's definitely me. I guess I have a style of writing, and I guess it's been around for a while. That's cool. I remember getting into the office in the morning and opening the paper eager to see it. And the title. Contributing Writer. I loved it.
Best of all was the letter Gene Lichtenstein received in the mail a couple of weeks after my review was published. Gene called me into his office, and handed me an angry letter from a Jewish Journal reader. At first, I was embarrassed and concerned. I looked up at Gene, worried I'd be in trouble, but he just smiled. I suppose you're not a real writer until someone gets so riled up about what you've written, that they take time out of their day, sit down at their type writer, and bitch about you. I handed it back to him, but he told me to keep it. I'm glad I did.
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