Madrid, Dec. 31, 2018

As promised, here are the contributions received by Simesite for this year’s wrap. Unfortunately, the number of muggs showing signs of life has decreased somewhat from a year ago. We suppose that some may have changed their e-mail addresses and thus no longer receive our urgings, while the silence of a few others may perhaps be due to illness or  death.

Missing this year are entries from Pete Pryor, Edna and Dan Fainaru, Doug Galloway, Tom Gilbert, Steve Klain, Steve Knoll, Fred Lombardi, Mike Malak, Mike Evans, Arlene Rosenstein, Lee Simkins – to mention just a few we heard from over the past few years. Maybe a few entries will come dribbling in after deadline, in which case we will add them to the list.



By Matthew Silverman

I stopped in to see Larry and Virginia in western Massachusetts in 1988, just after graduating with a B.A. in English. I was having trouble not just finding a job, but finding someone to provide an interview. Larry and Virginia did so, even though there was no job available at the Shelburne Falls & West County News, a 3,000-circ weekly tucked in the northern Berskhires between Springfield and the Vermont border. Shelburne Falls was a small town but a nice town. Still, I wondered why anyone would move there after living in Washington and New York City. When the newspaper’s one-person editorial staff quit and they unexpectedly offered me a job, I got to answer the question myself.



By Marie Silverman Marich.

It has been about a year since Syd Silverman, our family’s beloved patriarch and long-time publisher of Variety, departed this earth. To say that Dad has been greatly missed would be an understatement. Here are some thoughts (taken from the eulogy I delivered at his memorial service) on the wonderful man I was lucky and proud to call my father.

For many people, Variety was a family. Dad was well-known for never breaching a confidence, and he heard plenty over the decades. He never wanted to embarrass or humiliate anyone. The few times he had to let someone go, Dad did it quietly and without drama or hysteria.

He was no drama king himself, but Dad was surrounded by drama at work. Variety could be a pretty dramatic place, populated as it was by some very talented and eccentric people for whom the office was a home away from home.

Dad enjoyed those Sunday lunches at the Gaiety delicatessen and Tuesdays at Balan Graphics where Variety was printed. Laying out the paper in the morning and putting it to bed late at night were part of his job for many decades. He never seemed to get tired of it. In fact, the later it got, the more energized Dad got.

My husband Bob, our son Nick, and I were privileged to have spent both quality and quantity time with Dad in in the last two months of his life. Though frail at age 85, he was still Dad, tall and slim with those grasshopper legs and always dressed impeccably. He might not have said much, but he was always listening.

Throughout his long life, Dad was known as the quintessential gentleman. And I do believe that he is dwelling in the house of the Lord forever with Mom and his cherished loved ones.

In conclusion, I will close these reflections with words from Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” that always make me think of Dad: “Good night, sweet Prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest…”