The Evening News
Once in a while a clueless patron complained until the bartender turned around.
At 6:30 pm, on the button, the bartender switches the sports channels over to the news.
He does this religiously every night at 6:30, even if the Red Sox are playing and it’s the bottom of the ninth inning with the score tied.
Makes no difference, it’s time for the evening news.
Once in a while a clueless patron will complain. But then he must face the full wrath of our barkeep. That ends all discussion.
Back then, “the News” was the CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite. He was the news.
Nothing else could legitimately call itself “the News” — except perhaps the “The MacNeil/Lehrer Report.” But that’s another story.
After work, I’d wander over to this bar for a few cold ones before heading home on the MTA. (I once knew the real “Charlie on the MTA.” And it’s true, he never returned. And his fate is still unlearned…)
Now, of course, it’s the MBTA, but it’s the same thing.
Like my favorite bartender, I looked forward to watching the Evening News with Walter Cronkite at 6:30.
Cronkite’s sober gravitas was an energizing take on the news of the day.
He always ended his broadcast with “And that’s how it is on” whatever day of the week and year it was.
After that, we knew all the news we needed before heading home to wives, lovers, significant others, dogs and cats… Sometimes a goldfish or two. Maybe a parakeet.
But fulfilled by “the News” we were ready to face whatever awaited us once we walked in our front doors. (Except, perhaps, the wrath of a wife or significant other because we forgot to bring home the break and milk.)
Blame it on the News.
