My Turn: Aroma of newsprint has never let go

Aromas — cookies baking in the oven, my mom’s perfume, steak sizzling on the grill — all evoke an emotional response. But the scent that triggers the strongest response in me is newsprint!

It all began at Bayside High School in Queens when my article “Faltering Freshman Frolic Freely” was about to appear on Page 1 of The Baysider, and I was tasked with taking all of the copy to the printer. From the moment I first inhaled printer’s ink, I was hooked — for life.

In college I wrote for The Hofstra Chronicle, became city editor and turned down the position of editor-in-chief in my senior year because I was busy preparing for my upcoming wedding.

The day after my graduation, in 1954, I drove to the offices of Newsday, hoping to find the job that would be my entree into the world of journalism. The personnel director sent me to see Dick Clurman, Newsday’s editorial director. He put me at ease immediately, and after we chatted for several minutes, he announced, “Harriet, I don’t have to hear anything more. You are the assistant I’ve been looking for!” Thus began the job of my dreams.

Our offices were adjacent to those of Alicia Patterson, then Newsday’s editor and publisher, and I saw her frequently, as she and Dick conferred daily. My job entailed researching for Dick in the “morgue” (the library) taking his daily editorials to the printer, and editing the “Letters to the Editor” columns. From the letters that arrived each day, I selected those suitable for publication and edited them for grammar, pertinent content and space availability.

The years I spent at Newsday before the arrival of my first child were an invaluable learning experience and greatly influenced my writing in the years to come. Two days after I left the paper in 1956, a letter arrived at my home addressed to my husband, Gene, from Dick Clurman. It spoke glowingly of me and stated, “Gene, my loss is indeed your gain.”

After leaving Newsday, throughout the 1950s and 1960s, I wrote the monthly newsletter for my Long Island chapter of Hadassah, a large national women’s organization.

In 1963, my husband’s health began to fail, and we were advised by his doctor to leave the Northeast and move to a place that had a warm climate. After much research, we chose Tucson, Arizona.

Shortly after we moved into our new home, two young women appeared at the front door to invite me to attend a meeting of the Tucson chapter of Hadassah. They picked me up the following week and drove me to the meeting, where I received a warm welcome. When I learned that the group had no newsletter, I offered to write one, and the next year my newsletter was selected as the best in the Southwest region.

Over the ensuing years I wrote and produced many programs for the community. Eventually, my love of writing led me to consider writing my memoir, titled “The Times of My Life," and in 1995 I finally embarked on the project. It was an exhausting, emotional, sometimes traumatic undertaking that took me nine months to complete.

In 2012, my husband, Gene, died, and I moved back to the East Coast to be near my son and his family. We found an apartment within walking distance of their home in New Jersey at Atria Senior Living. I am writing once again, a monthly newsletter for Atria, as well as a sequel to my memoir. At the age of 87, life is good!

Harriet Smith,

Tinton Falls, New Jersey