There are people who know how to give pleasure to others and, what’s more, who want to. The ones I’ve been lucky to know were and are modest people, who shy away from thanks; I am thinking in particular of a man and his family who do not want to have their names mentioned here. I am also thinking of friends who are no longer with us, but whose memory remains shining and lovely, and a consolation in life.
H. V. Kaltenborn and his wife Olga had a house quite far out of New York, on one of the numerous bays of Long Island’s North Shore, where I used to live with my family. He was the journalist of his generation, a man whose radio broadcasts were a national landmark, and who knew everybody who mattered in the whole world. I don’t think any present-day journalist has remotely the influence H. V. Kaltenborn enjoyed in his lifetime.




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