Chronicle's columnists give the paper personality

A daily newspaper is an ocean of words, the vast majority of them strung together in straightforward prose devoid of passion, perspective or opinion.

Bobbing along on a raft in that ocean is the newspaper columnist, a spot of color in a sea of black and white. The history of the Chronicle is dotted with such personalities who have gone beyond reporting to entertain, enrage and enlighten.

"I do not believe God intended any man to live in this world without working. Nor do I believe he intended any human being to be deprived of the chance to work. When men beg for work and do not get it, there's something wrong somewhere."
-- Our City column by M.E. Foster, 1926

Foster, the paper's founder, began a quirky column in 1919 called Town Tattler, which ran on Page 2. It consisted of 72 one-line sentences, spaced one line apart, each on a single topic, such as "undercover motor cops" or the disparity between rich and poor.

In 1920, he switched to a front page column called Our City, which ran under his nickname, Mefo. He wrote about politics, societal problems, his current fancies and -- first, last and always -- what he thought was best for Houston.

Sometimes, he was prescient, once noting that "whenever I see Los Angeles has spread out, I get a new vision of the Houston of the future."

After Foster sold his interest in the paper to Jesse H. Jones in 1926, Our City was written by others for a few years before being discontinued. It was resurrected briefly in the '50s but never again bore a byline.

Though a few signed columns ran on the editorial pages, they were seldom by staff writers. Among them: "Tips On How to Keep Well" by Dr. Irving Cutter, "Listen World," a periodic column about friendship by Elsie Robinson, and correspondent O.O. McIntyre's column about life in New York, which ran through the 1920s and 1930s.

One exception in the 1940s was a column by Dick Freeman called Press Box that ran regularly on the Chronicle sports pages, though it was only brief, factual items strung together with ellipses.

Not until the 1950s did new columnists began appearing in the paper. It was part of a national trend. Before World War II, said University of Houston journalism professor Ted Stanton, most newspapers spoke with only one voice, and that was on the editorial pages.

After the war, he said, newspapers began to present a wider range of opinions, using a variety of columnists. The title for this column is derived from the only poetry I ever learned in school -- and I never pass up an opportunity to prove what a literary genius I am. … I'll be dishing out the stuff about Cabbages and Kings -- the lows and the highs -- everybody's a king who can outrun me, though. Discretion with me is the better part of valor."
-- Morris Frank, Of Cabbages and Kings column, 1950.

A former sports editor at the Houston Post, Frank had left the newspaper business for a public relations job at the Canada Dry bottling company. But six months later, in 1950, he jumped at the chance to write a column for the Chronicle.

Frank's folksy column ran for 25 years, until his death in 1975. He was known as the "Sage of East Texas," because he had been raised in Lufkin, and greeted everyone with a rapid-fire "howdy, howdy."

"He was the sweetest man I ever knew," Chronicle executive vice president and editor Jack Loftis recalled. "What he did was spread good will everywhere he went."

Much in demand as a master of ceremonies, Frank was "probably one of the most talented toastmasters in the nation," Loftis said. "He was known all over the country. This guy was good."

At about the same time, gossip became a staple of all three Houston dailies, with fierce competition for scoops. Some trace the beginning of such columns to the opening of the Shamrock Hotel in 1949, when oilman Glenn McCarthy brought 30 Hollywood stars to Houston.

Charlie Evans wrote a column -- Night and Day -- of light gossip about local notables. One column in 1955 noted that restaurateur Bill Williams had substituted live ponies for make-believe ones at a children's merry-go-round located in front of his restaurant of the same name.

In 1956, June Benefield filed her first Skirt Tales, for the Chronicle's women's section. Three times a week she talked about life as a suburban housewife.

As times changed, so did her column. In 1970, she stepped into the battle over young boys wearing their hair long.

"The ownership of one of these mops does not mean that all of these boys are bad," she wrote. "It does not mean all who have long hair are on pot."

Speaking of rember-when's: Who remembers when the breakfast orange juice came in oranges, instead of cans? When the coffee was boiled, not perked? When you had to SLICE the bread yourself? With a "bread knife." And cream came off the top of the bottle.
-- Allison Sanders, In Houston, 1959

In 1958, longtime Chronicle city editor Allison Sanders became the paper's features editor and began writing a column called In Houston. He wrote the column until his death in 1985, often while wearing a green eyeshade.

Sanders often crafted witty, unusual or touching stories about ordinary people from mail he received from readers.

He didn't like to refer to himself as "I" in the column, so he instead called himself "the motorman of this department." Before long, he became affectionately known as the "motorman."

THE LAST WORD: I just want to take a line or two to say how very pleased I am to be here at the Chronicle. Welcome to the new readers of this corner, and, a reminder that I'm interested in everything you're doing, soooo, don't be surprised when you read your own name here.
-- Maxine Mesinger, Big City Beat, 1964

When the Houston Press folded in 1964, the Chronicle hired several of its columnists, including Paul Hochuli and Betty Ewing, who became a fixture as Chronicle society writer for 27 years.

But the most notable was Maxine Mesinger, who would write for the Chronicle for more than four decades, covering the rich and famous.

Early in her career, Mesinger dubbed herself "Miss Moonlight" because of her evening hours on the social circuit.

Such Maxine-isms as "She snoops to conquer," "Miss Moonlight's memos," "The soft thud of name dropping" and "Have tongue will tattle" were staples of her popular column.

She also coined such unique phrases as "swankienda" and "playcation" that Houston's "smart set" adopted on its own.

While her column detailed gossip, with names in boldface, she liked to break news.

Her scoops included the first heart transplant performed by Dr. Denton Cooley, the surprise wedding of former Rockets center Hakeem Olajuwon and former Commerce Secretary Robert Mosbacher's decision to divorce Georgette.

For much of her career, she wrote six columns a week.

As her health faltered, she reluctantly reduced it to four a week, then three.

She continued writing her column until weeks before her death in January 2001 of complications from multiple sclerosis.

In 1966, food editor Ann Criswell began writing a weekly column called Looking for Cooking, which she described as a "backyard fence type of discussion about cooking." Criswell retired last year, after 35 years.

TV critic Ann Hodges and movie critic Jeff Millar became familiar to Chronicle readers in the mid-1960s. Hodges continues to offer her insights into the television scene in a regular column.

Millar was a longtime movie critic and humor columnist before his retirement last year after 36 years with the Chronicle. I put the tie on when I came downtown for the first day because I didn't want my new masters to think I don't own one. The fact is I own two. One with stripes and one with dots. A person is often judged in these strange times by what he wears around his neck. … But you can go and put it in the bank that I don't intend to sit here from now on, writing pieces for the paper in neckties.
-- Leon Hale, 1984

After 32 years at the Houston Post, columnist Leon Hale moved to the Chronicle, where his column on Texas life is a fixture on the front of the Metro/State section.

In 1990, he was joined there by Thom Marshall.

These columnists of the Chronicle have evoked laughter, tears and debate of important issues for more than a century. They will continue.

In some ways, they are more important than ever. With so many news sources now available, they offer something unique: a personal point of view. -- Clifford Pugh