Of Cabbages and Kings
by BOB BARTON
The death of John Taylor “Tay” Guttery last week in Austin flooded my memory with newspaper-related incidents of nearly 50 years ago.
The late Mark Adams and I were barely keeping this newspaper alive by coming to Kyle every weekend from Austin, and putting together a lively, but quite small, edition.
I was a partner in a Ford tractor agency and Mark did me one better by being a top writer for the Army Corps of Engineers and spending many evenings as a typesetter on the night shift at the Austin American.
Our total staff consisted of the always present Turner Harwell, the bachelor son of the paper’s founder who was nearly 70 years old and sold advertising without the benefit of having transportation, other than by foot or bus – and Tay.
A big bear of a man, perhaps 19 years old, Tay taught himself almost overnight, with Mark’s tutoring, to operate the linotype. That’s a skill that few mortals can accomplish without years of practice.
We gave ourselves glorious titles to compensate for chicken feed paychecks. I was the Presiding Gent, Mark was the Coordinating Secretary, and Tay was the Rabochek, meaning “worker” in Russian.
He was studying Russian at the University of Texas at the time and it was an appropriate, self-bestowed title. Rabochek? He was certainly that.
It was a small newspaper, but it was ours. We managed to keep the publication alive and kicking, and Mark and Tay, along with dozens and dozens of others (more saints than sinners), have kept this newspaper alive and breathing for nearly 108 years.
Adios, my friend.
