By Chris Lane
By Jeff Balke
By Aaron Reiss
By Angelica Leicht
By Dianna Wray
By Aaron Reiss
By Camilo Smith
By Craig Malisow
When we first laid eyes on the flier at right, we figured it for an elaborate hoax concocted by some low-level joker at the Chronicle in an extreme paroxysm of bad taste.
Unfortunately, we must report that it's a real deal, at least for Chronicle employees. And they are apparently finding it hard to pass on the chance to own these "sturdy glass" tumblers that "hold a full 12 ounces" and are adorned with the final front page of the Post and the front page of the next day's Chronicle. (The one that was topped by the Pravda-like headline, "Post closes; Hearst buys assets.")
"We're all sold out, but we may have some more tomorrow," said a clerk in the Chronicle stockroom when we called to inquire about the availability of the glasses. And it's no wonder they can't keep 'em in stock, given this classic come-on from the flier, which was posted at various spots around the Chronicle building at 801 Texas Avenue:
"The day the Post closed will long be remembered as an important date in the history of Houston. At the Chronicle, it will be remembered as the time when we all pitched in together. And together, we managed to face one of our biggest professional challenges -- confidently, competently and with care.
"It's a time we will never forget. So to commemorate that most memorable event, the Chronicle is now offering employees an attractive set of historical tumblers ...."
Since designated Chronicle spokesgal Lainie Gordon didn't return our calls, we were unable to determine whether the opportunity to own this piece of history will be extended to the general public, and whether
unemployed ex-Post workers might be eligible for a discount if it is. We, of course, are saving our $10.76 ("tax included") for the set of tumblers with the headline, "Hearst, Singleton struck deal eight months before Post closed," once that late-breaking story actually appears in Houston's Leading Information Source. As for the question, "What were you doing April 18, 1995?" let's set the way-back machine and return to that "time we will never forget":
* If you were a Chronicle security guard, you were on duty at the Post building to ensure that exiting employees didn't trash the place.
* If you were an executive with the Hearst Corporation or the Chronicle, you were unavailable for comment.
* If you were a Post employee, you were scrambling to clean out your locker or desk before 5 p.m. and, later, were probably twice the legal limit for blood alcohol content.
* If you were Dean Singleton, you were in Denver. And considerably richer.