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The story on the front page of today's LVN is an exclusive you won't find anywhere else.
LVN staff writer Josh Johnson learned of local physician Gary Ridenour's brush with professional wrestling, put him in a headlock and got the story out of him. Just kidding. Ridenour graciously agreed to an interview about his association with Andre the Giant and gave us a photo to illustrate the feature.
What makes the story interesting? Readers want the offbeat and hanging out with Andre the Giant certainly qualifies. People love stories about the unusual life experiences of others. The feature contains all that, plus insight into the wacky world of wrestling.
LVN staff writer Josh Johnson learned of local physician Gary Ridenour's brush with professional wrestling, put him in a headlock and got the story out of him. Just kidding. Ridenour graciously agreed to an interview about his association with Andre the Giant and gave us a photo to illustrate the feature.
What makes the story interesting? Readers want the offbeat and hanging out with Andre the Giant certainly qualifies. People love stories about the unusual life experiences of others. The feature contains all that, plus insight into the wacky world of wrestling.
Many find the world of celebrities titillating. Celebrity "journalism" is the fodder of dozens of slick magazines and tabloids that line the checkout stand in every grocery store across the country. Millions and millions are sold every week that contain nothing but fluff photos and stories about the rich and famous. Americans, it seems, are infatuated with the personalities they see every night on television.
I'll admit to thumbing through a copy of People magazine on occasion. I've even had a few chance encounters with celebrities.
I knew the woman former Utah Jazz great Karl Malone married from my college days. Well, I didn't really know her per se. She worked in the bookstore and talk about a stunner. I needed to stock up on pencils almost daily.
In one of many boxes stacked in my closet I have a Nation of Islam brochure autographed by "the greatest" Muhammad Ali.
I'll admit to thumbing through a copy of People magazine on occasion. I've even had a few chance encounters with celebrities.
I knew the woman former Utah Jazz great Karl Malone married from my college days. Well, I didn't really know her per se. She worked in the bookstore and talk about a stunner. I needed to stock up on pencils almost daily.
In one of many boxes stacked in my closet I have a Nation of Islam brochure autographed by "the greatest" Muhammad Ali.
While visiting my aunt in Torrance, Calif., in the mid-1980s, we took in a Lakers game at the Fabulous Forum in Inglewood. After the uneventful hoop contest, I spied a group of people huddled around someone I couldn't quite make out from our seats in the stratosphere. Curiosity got the best of me. It was Ali signing Islam brochures. I asked for one, and he scribbled his name.
"Thanks, champ," I said.
I've saved the best for last. I once sat on Kevin Costner's personal jet. It's a story nearly a decade old now. If only I had screenplay under my arm to slip him when I had the chance, but I didn't.
Anyway, I was working for a twice-weekly newspaper in Battle Mountain when I got a tip that Costner and his production crew planned to arrive shortly to scout out mine sites prior to the production of The Postman.
"Thanks, champ," I said.
I've saved the best for last. I once sat on Kevin Costner's personal jet. It's a story nearly a decade old now. If only I had screenplay under my arm to slip him when I had the chance, but I didn't.
Anyway, I was working for a twice-weekly newspaper in Battle Mountain when I got a tip that Costner and his production crew planned to arrive shortly to scout out mine sites prior to the production of The Postman.
Off they went with the Winnemucca tourism lady who brusquely informed me no seats in the van were available. So I hung out at the less than bustling B.M. Airport. I chatted up the pilot. A nice guy with a German accent, he said I could check out the plane, a beautiful Gulfstream IV. The seats were upholstered in buttery leather (Corinthian?).
Costner and crew came back about two hours later. I took a couple of photos as they exited the van with their gear. I asked a local yokel to get a photo of me and Kevin. What a mistake. She fumbled with the camera, he turned around and climbed aboard and the jet took off.
But, wow, did I have a story to tell the gals over at Justice Court, none of whom believed me until I produced a photo of Costner. One even wanted to shake my hand.
Steve F. Lyon is editor of the Lahontan Valley News.
Costner and crew came back about two hours later. I took a couple of photos as they exited the van with their gear. I asked a local yokel to get a photo of me and Kevin. What a mistake. She fumbled with the camera, he turned around and climbed aboard and the jet took off.
But, wow, did I have a story to tell the gals over at Justice Court, none of whom believed me until I produced a photo of Costner. One even wanted to shake my hand.
Steve F. Lyon is editor of the Lahontan Valley News.
