Jimmy was a brash 30s-something reporter and columnist for the Herald Tribune
when I worked there. He spent lots of time roaming the streets of NYC digging for
"working man" stories. He spent lots of time at Bleek's, too, the saloon of choice for hard-drinking newspapermen of the day which was conveniently located around the corner from
the Trib right off Times Square.
I remember one night Jim showing up close to deadline and far from sobriety. He shouted for me to fetch him coffee, and when I handed it to him he grabbed my arm and bellowed, "Get outta this racket while you can, kid (he was 10 years my senior). It'll turn ya into a bum like me."
If you've read Breslin's books and articles or seen how bright and articulate he is in interviews, you know he ain't no bum.
I remember one night Jim showing up close to deadline and far from sobriety. He shouted for me to fetch him coffee, and when I handed it to him he grabbed my arm and bellowed, "Get outta this racket while you can, kid (he was 10 years my senior). It'll turn ya into a bum like me."
If you've read Breslin's books and articles or seen how bright and articulate he is in interviews, you know he ain't no bum.
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