Each morning, at opening time, he would purchased a bottle of Scotch (he was not the only member of the 'one a day club").

"Rube," as he was known up and down the coast, was a boomtown printer, and had the tedious job of not only collecting the news, but setting it in type, by hand.

A four-page weekly, such as the News, consumed a lot of long hours, sometimes 12 and more a day.

He sat on his high stool before his home-made type cases, he would keep on working, even as we talked, although you never could understand how he was able to conduct a conversation and keep track of the demanding task at hand.

His only light was a 100-watt globe which, unshaded, hung from a drop cord from the ceiling, Rube's eyes protected from its harsh glare only by the green visor he wore on his forehead.

At times, he would sit back, enjoying his old pipe, and reminisce. Then, inevitably, he would reach for his bottle of Scotch, which was tied around the neck with string and secured to the drop light which dangled over the type cases.

After a good drink, straight from the bottle, he would be well away for another hour. The bottle would remain, suspended, until he went home, about 10 p.m.

Rube was quite a storyteller, and told many tales of the north country, as well as Indian folklore.