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Calif. rail project needs cash to keep going
This Associated Press story appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle, a Hearst Newspapers property which may soon be either sold or closed.
Hope the feds get them some bucks. the Californians went out on a limb for HSR when it looked like they would have to pay every dime themselves.
Sorry, but they never planned to pay every dime themselves. There was always the concept of getting some private money and some Federal matching money. This was all in the statements made to the public.

As to the SF Chronicle. I have been a lifelong addict to newspaper reading, but a couple months of the SF Chronicle cured me of the habit.
 
As to the SF Chronicle. I have been a lifelong addict to newspaper reading, but a couple months of the SF Chronicle cured me of the habit.
Oh yeah. A perennial rag. With family in SF we used to vist often (Uncle Joe is a retired MUNI motorman), and even as a kid I couldn't stand the Chronicle; nor could my dad. When visiting, first thing in the morning me and dad would hop in the VW bug and drive downtown to look for an L.A. Times. Sometimes we'd find one, sometimes not. Kinda hit or miss, even at newsstands we knew.

On return to the suburban flat near Daly City (nowadays a short walk from a BART station) Aunt Joan would ask where we had gone.

Dad: To get a newspaper.

Aunt Joan: But we HAVE a newspaper.

Dad: No you don't.

Aunt Joan: We have the Chronicle delivered every day!

Dad: That's what I said. No newspaper.

Aunt Joan: The Chronicle has Herb Caen! [deadguy columnist]

Dad and me in unison: HACK!!

On and on and on, in something of a north/south ritual.
 
As to the SF Chronicle. I have been a lifelong addict to newspaper reading, but a couple months of the SF Chronicle cured me of the habit.
Oh yeah. A perennial rag. With family in SF we used to vist often (Uncle Joe is a retired MUNI motorman), and even as a kid I couldn't stand the Chronicle; nor could my dad. When visiting, first thing in the morning me and dad would hop in the VW bug and drive downtown to look for an L.A. Times. Sometimes we'd find one, sometimes not. Kinda hit or miss, even at newsstands we knew.

On return to the suburban flat near Daly City (nowadays a short walk from a BART station) Aunt Joan would ask where we had gone.

Dad: To get a newspaper.

Aunt Joan: But we HAVE a newspaper.

Dad: No you don't.

Aunt Joan: We have the Chronicle delivered every day!

Dad: That's what I said. No newspaper.

Aunt Joan: The Chronicle has Herb Caen! [deadguy columnist]

Dad and me in unison: HACK!!

On and on and on, in something of a north/south ritual.
Man, how true. I thought about doing the Chron a few months ago when the local rag downsized (again), but reading the online editorial section cured me fast; I had forgotten why people around here call it the Comical.
 
Herb Carn was the only reason to read the Chronicle. The Examiner was the better paper until that went under years ago.

Unfortunately the Sacramento Bee makes The Chronicle seem to be the best paper in the world. Unfortunately good writing appears to be a lost art.
 
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