The Great Gansby
This had beeps to go along with the click-clacks of keys, an intercom that replaced the cross-room shouts of the managing editor. My left arm was squeezed—increasingly so—but I kept on typing. I had just 50 words left to jot down, so I went right on clicking as the room around me stayed humming.
JACKSONVILLE, Fla.—The thing about really good players is that they often turn reporters into pretty poor journalists.