It was the late 1980s when a stranger with "666" written on his forehead showed in the newsroom of the El Paso Times. I was still assigned to the features section, and Josie Weber was my editor.
After this man, I can't recall his name although I can describe him as Anglo, thin with beard and mustache and scraggly hair. It fell on me to interview him for a possible story. He said he wanted to complain that he was being harassed by law enforcement over his lifestyle. Apparently, he lived with his family others commune style in what must have been an old school bus. They were camping in El Paso temporarily, and planned to move on.
Of course, the first thought that came to our minds when we saw him was Charles Manson. And we all knew that '666' was a symbol that is generally associated with the anti-christ mentioned in the Bible in the book of Revelation. Was he a Charles Manson clone or fan? Appearance-wise, he fit the look that elicited some concerns. We did not encounter any issues with him and his family, and a story with a picture of him was published in the El Paso Times.
I remember that it was December because then editor Tom Fenton was somewhat perturbed that we had published a story with picture of this man so close to Christmas. Former assistant features editor, the late Dave Brown, said he told Fenton that the story was the most read that day. Of course, and this was before the advent of social media. In today's terms, the story would have gone viral.
The bigger issue for me was how did the '666 man,' as we called him, get into the newsroom without any advance warning from the security guard at the front entrance. I took the elevator down to the first floor to check with security. The guard simply responded, "He asked to speak to a reporter, and I told him they were all upstairs."
We never heard anything else about the man or his group of followers.
During the 1990s, when the El Paso Times was in a new building at Campbell and Mills, another man walked into the newsroom yelling at the top of his lungs. He was clean-cut. Everyone froze. The security guard was nowhere to be found.
My knees grew wobbly. Was he here to shoot up the place? Was he going to attack a staff member over a particular story that upset him? Finally, I made myself remember my military training and shook off the jitters.
Seeing that he had no weapon in his hands, I approached him and asked if we could do anything to help him. The situation was diffused immediately. In a lowered voice he stated his complaint, which had nothing to do with the newsroom. Security finally came upstairs to check on the encounter, and he was led away elsewhere to speak to someone about his complaint.
This was not the first time my military training served me well in a pinch. Someone on the staff asked me that day if I was scared as I walked up to the screaming man, and I said, "yes!"
|Me during desert training with the ANG.|