Few things bring a newspaper newsroom to a total standstill, the common cacophony of keyboards and chatter suddenly swallowed by an eerie hush.
The Space Shuttle Challenger explosion did so when I was a young journalist; as did the two hijacked jetliners slamming into the Twin Towers 15 years later; as, most certainly, President Kennedy’s assassination did long before my writing career began.
When I tell you a similar pall blanketed the old Ventura Star-Free Press newsroom, back when it was on Ralston Street, back on an autumn day in 1987, that not only were voices hushed, but tears rolled, you will understand something truly dreadful had occurred.
Which is why, to be honest, when my colleagues began bemoaning with disbelief that Bob Hope had passed away, I was slightly puzzled. Granted, he was a Hollywood legend and this was sad news, yet the earth-shattering reaction seemed far beyond proportion.
The reason for my confusion was because I had joined the S-FP staff only a month earlier and, due to unfamiliarity, ignorantly misheard who died. The legend suffering a fatal heart attack, at age 69, was Bob Holt, a longtime reporter and columnist who was every bit as beloved as he was talented, a very remarkable twin feat.
In the ensuing days and weeks I perused back issues of the newspaper, kept in endless binders the size of couch cushions, only thicker, reading some of Holt’s columns. It was readily apparent why he was so admired by writers and readers alike.
For nearly four decades Holt wrote for the S-FP, beginning in Sports, later covering hard news, and also penning a slice-of-life column that frequently featured his two girls, Debby and Betsey, oftentimes to their chagrin.
I bring up Bob Holt today because his eldest daughter, Debby Holt Larkin, has written a new book titled “A Lovely Girl: The Tragedy of Olga Duncan and the Trial of One of California’s Most Notorious Killers.” It is part true-crime story, part memoir through the eyes of 10-year-old Debby in 1958, and fully a page-turner.
Debby will return to her hometown to talk about her book, and about her dad for he is interwoven throughout, at two events: Saturday, Nov. 4, at 10 a.m. inside Ventura City Hall, formerly the courthouse where the salacious trial took place, a trial Bob Holt covered; and Sunday, Nov. 5, at 2 p.m. in E.P. Foster Library.
The poet Robert Frost famously said, “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.” As surely as the account of Olga’s murder, she being a newlywed nurse who was seven-months pregnant, made my eyes spill over, so too did the lovely closing pages with young Debby and her father and two surprise tickets to a Dodgers game, thus proving Mr. Frost correct.
“When it finally came time for me to write that scene, I was very emotional,” Debby shared with me, “which surprised me a little because I’d been thinking about it for so long. I did the draft in one sitting. The words just flowed with tears streaming down my face. By the time I wrote that last sentence, I was sobbing. To this day, I can’t go to a professional baseball game without thinking about my dad at some point – bad call, terrific play. And when they sing ‘Take Me Out To The Ball Game,’ it still makes me tear up. He always sang it at the top of his lungs!”
Another song, despite the chronicled tragedy, comes to happily mind page after page: Bob Hope singing, “Thanks for the memory…”
* * *
Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn
Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.
