North Star Writers Group

A few of us crusty, old-newspaper types were sitting around the other day reminiscing about our lengthy careers when the talk turned to the characters we have worked with over the years. I’ve met more than a few during my 48 years in the newspaper business, and the best of them all was photographer Bill Gallagher, who became my mentor of sorts in the late 1950s when I was fresh out of high school and working as a $50-a-week copy boy at the Flint (Michigan) Journal.

Gallagher, who died in 1975, is famous for a photo he took of 1952 presidential candidate Adlai Stevenson sitting at a political rally at a Flint amusement park. Gallagher’s photo, which shows Stevenson leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, exposing a hole in the sole of his right shoe, won the Pulitzer Prize in 1953. Gallagher was one of the first people I met when I joined the staff at the Flint Journal. We hit it off right away. Well, almost right away, anyway.

Newsrooms were crazy places back then. They were populated by bizarre, unpredictable characters. My first brush with the balding, off-the-wall Gallagher came after my editor asked me if I’d like to start covering music concerts in town because none of the other reporters on staff were interested in doing it. I jumped at the chance to try my hand at writing and, as it turned out, those shows were much more than just ordinary concerts because back then there was a brand new recording company called Motown just down the road in Detroit, and to drum up business, the company was sending its newest acts 60 miles north to Flint to give them experience performing on the road.

In the space of two years, I had the pleasure of interviewing such gonna-be stars Little Stevie Wonder, Martha and the Vandellas, Jackie Wilson and The Supremes. Gallagher was assigned to shoot photos for one of those interviews and I rode with him in his Volkswagen to the IMA Auditorium where the shows were held. On the way, the photographer turned to me and said, “Hey, kid, you like Chivas Regal?”

I’d never tasted Chivas Regal, but I sure wasn’t going to tell Gallagher.

“Chivas Regal?” I said. “Wow! I mean who doesn’t like Chivas Regal?”

“Good,” Gallagher replied, “the bottle’s in the glove box with the paper cups. Pour us each one.”

I pulled out the bottle, poured two cupfuls and handed one to him.

“Here’s to ya,” he said, knocking down his drink in one big gulp.

I, trying to act as cool as possible, took a big slug of the scotch into my mouth and immediately began to gag, choke and cough. That’s when I reached over, rolled down the window and tossed the cup and its contents into the street.

When I did that, Gallagher tromped on the brake and brought the VW to a screeching halt. “You dumb little x%&%$#!” he shouted, glaring at me. “You ever throw away Chivas Regal again and I’ll kill ya!”

I was speaking to members of a men’s club at a retirement village the other day, and at one point in my talk, I asked, “What’s the one thing you remember about Adlai Stevenson?”

Seven men quickly replied “That photo of him with a hole in his shoe.”

You did good, Billy G.

Real good.

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