Former Recorder Reporter Tells Story About Former Editor.

I can’t say whether or not the following story is apocryphal. It was forwarded to me as a comment and was quite humorous so I thought I would post it here.

Ah, Anthony Benjamin.

There's a name.

Deserves a story.

One day, long, long ago, Mr. Benjamin bought a new automobile. Made quite a show of it around the offices of The Recorder.

About a week later, the telephones failed to operate early one morning in the offices of The Recorder. A supervisor directed a young staff member to inform Mr. Benjamin of the problem. Upon hearing the news, Mr. Benjamin smashed his fist against a desktop.

"What do I look like," Mr. Benjamin snarled, "Alexander (bleeping) Graham Bell?"

Well, it's often said that God has a sense of humor.

A few days later, the young staff member who had been on the receiving end of Mr. Benjamin's editorial statement (otherwise known as a childish tantrum) observed upon entering the offices of The Recorder that Mr. Benjamin had seemingly failed to turn off the headlights of his new vehicle, which was parked in the editor's reserved spot near the entrance to the building.

The young reporter, ever mindful of Mr. Benjamin's editorial skills (and ability to break into a full-blown snit that bordered on a near perfect tizzy) said nothing about the status of Mr. Benjamin's vehicle.

At lunchtime, members of the staff at The Recorder heard Mr. Benjamin quite clearly stringing together a few not-so-carefully chosen adjectives and nouns in the parking lot of the newspaper. Mr. Benjamin stormed into the newsroom and promptly demanded a full staff meeting.

In a calm (read: frantic), measured (read: call the white coats in Marcy) tone of voice (read: screaming at the top of his lungs), Mr. Benjamin told the staff that his car would not start. The vehicle's battery had died. Mr. Benjamin had neglected to turn off the car's headlights.

Mr. Benjamin quietly (read: screamed) asked (read: demanded) whether any of his staffers had noticed that the vehicle's headlights had been on when they entered the building. Slowly, the young staffer raised a hand.

"Yes, Mr. Benjamin, I saw that the car's headlights were on when I arrived this morning," the staffer said.

"Well, why the (bleeping bleeping bleep) didn't you tell me?" Mr. Benjamin responded.

"Simple, sir," the staff said. "Since you told me the other day that you weren't Alexander (bleeping) Graham Bell, I sure as hell figured that you weren't Henry (bleeping) Ford either."