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Two writers imported from Berkeley – Mani Mir and Patrick Daugherty
They let their story subjects talk freely
Judith Moore, who started writing for the Reader in the mid-1980s, served as features editor from the late 1980s until her death in 2007.
From her home in Berkeley she aquainted herself with many San Diego writers. But she recruited talent from across the U.S.
The Reader rented an apartment on D Avenue in Coronado for the visiting writers. Among those from outside San Diego were two from Berkeley, Patrick Daugherty and Mani Mir.
Editor's picks of stories Mir wrote for the Reader:
George Mitrovich's friends on reading — Gary Hart, Ben Bradlee, Richard Reeves, Gloria Steinem, George Plimpton
- "My library, which is more than a couple of thousand volumes, has been accumulated over a 35-year period. It’s the most diverse personal library that I’ve ever seen, and that includes the libraries of friends." (April 25, 1996)
"You start with the New Yorkers at seven in the morning, before they go to lunch, and you finish with Hollywood after five, when they wake up."Sandra Dijkstra, literary agent, tells of her success with Amy Tan
- "I think that I have a sort of natural editorial tropism; it’s sort of innate in me. I have a sort of irrepressible publicist in me. I help my authors get the word out." (April 26, 1990)
La Jolla artist Andy Lakey in the words of friends and famous
- Andy Lakey: 'I was born in '59. My mother and I moved to the United States in 1963. We're from France. My mother was an artist — and her mother, and her mother's mother." (April 25, 1991)
Clifford NewmanA page or two out of Clifford Newman's book
- “Then these three guys come and I’m still on the phone with the dispatcher. And they’re standin’ there — with the gun and the burritos — and she goes, ‘Well, do you still want us to send somebody out?’’ (April 12, 1990)
Book-lovers chew the fat at the Mission Hills Library
- “Mysteries,” says the sign above the shelves. From rows of books below, John Parker removes one hardback, examines the cover, opens to a page, not the first page. He reads a few lines." (September 21, 1989)
(Clockwise from left) Dan Rock, Buddy Lackey, Ward Evans, Norm Leggio, Brian McAlpin. “We’re tryin’ to put every type of feel into a metal groove."Meet El Cajon garage band Psychotic Waltz
- "Some people are naturally rude,” Norm says. “Being in El Cajon here, everyone’s a crystal fiend, except for us. Every day we deal with weirdos and sketchers comin’ up that we can't stand.” (August 3, 1989)
- Patrick Daugherty was the author of the weekly Sporting Box column since 1995. He died April 20, 2016. He wrote for the Berkeley Monthly before the Reader.
What If We’d Been Named Edward?
- Patrick Daugherty of Escondido. Patrick lives in a comfortable, suburban ranch house tucked behind a snatch of well-kept lawn. I park, walk up his newly swept concrete driveway, and ring the doorbell. A thin man, 35 years old, five foot ten, with a thick brown mustache answers. The man appears to have Hispanic ancestry. I learn later, his mother's family is Perez. We shake hands, I say, "Hi, I'm Patrick Daugherty." (Dec, 1, 1994)
Bill Daugherty. He attended Rutgers but never graduated and he lied about that for the rest of his life.Friends Called Him Bill
- Just before he died, I stood up and walked over to the hospital bed, leaned forward, kissed his forehead, and then lied through my teeth, “Good-bye, I love you.” I’ve regretted that lie ever since, regretted that I sent my dad out on one last note of falsity, regretted that the “I love you” was said for the benefit of my mother and not for him. The truth is, I didn’t love him. But don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hate him either. I simply had no idea who he was. (June 15, 2000)
Daugherty at Barter Island, Alaska, 1983. It was the place to be in summer.Work 10 weeks, take 10 months off
- I had — and still have, the last time I looked — a one-room cabin 20 miles west of Fairbanks, near the top of Ester Dome. The decor is threadbare Gold Rush: leaky roof, no running water, and no electricity. Amenities include a Majestic wood cookstove, Ashley Automatic wood stove, one reading chair taken from the Fairbanks city dump, likewise one desk, one mattress on loan from the Salvation Army. 3-part series
Daugherty as homelessThe low-budget horror film of San Diego homelessness
- 8:08. Begging shift starts to form. Clumps of people move out from Horton Plaza to curbside staging areas. The fashion is baseball hats, torn black jackets, tennies, and ’60s long hair. Over by the fountain, a gray-haired man is doing morning maintenance. Today is laundry day. The man sits, puts two black nylon socks on his hands. In his possession are two empty, king-size Carl’s to-go coffee cups. He fills each with water from the fountain, breaks out a tiny bar of soap, washes his socks in one cup, rinses them in the other. (May 3, 1990)
Farewell, Nazi Harlot
- Next morning the Benz began to teach me about life as it's lived. Before my lessons were over, the Benz would require a new oil pump, new shocks, new power brakes, completely rebuilt engine ($1400), new transmission ($1100), new battery, and that, let me stress, was just for openers. To this day I can't make myself review the receipts, can't make myself look at the other 40 items that, in total, added up to more than $4000 U.S. (Aug. 13, 1992)
Here's something you might be interested in.
Two writers imported from Berkeley – Mani Mir and Patrick Daugherty
They let their story subjects talk freely
Two writers imported from Berkeley – Mani Mir and Patrick Daugherty
They let their story subjects talk freely
Judith Moore, who started writing for the Reader in the mid-1980s, served as features editor from the late 1980s until her death in 2007.
From her home in Berkeley she aquainted herself with many San Diego writers. But she recruited talent from across the U.S.
The Reader rented an apartment on D Avenue in Coronado for the visiting writers. Among those from outside San Diego were two from Berkeley, Patrick Daugherty and Mani Mir.
Editor's picks of stories Mir wrote for the Reader:
George Mitrovich's friends on reading — Gary Hart, Ben Bradlee, Richard Reeves, Gloria Steinem, George Plimpton
- "My library, which is more than a couple of thousand volumes, has been accumulated over a 35-year period. It’s the most diverse personal library that I’ve ever seen, and that includes the libraries of friends." (April 25, 1996)
"You start with the New Yorkers at seven in the morning, before they go to lunch, and you finish with Hollywood after five, when they wake up."Sandra Dijkstra, literary agent, tells of her success with Amy Tan
- "I think that I have a sort of natural editorial tropism; it’s sort of innate in me. I have a sort of irrepressible publicist in me. I help my authors get the word out." (April 26, 1990)
La Jolla artist Andy Lakey in the words of friends and famous
- Andy Lakey: 'I was born in '59. My mother and I moved to the United States in 1963. We're from France. My mother was an artist — and her mother, and her mother's mother." (April 25, 1991)
Clifford NewmanA page or two out of Clifford Newman's book
- “Then these three guys come and I’m still on the phone with the dispatcher. And they’re standin’ there — with the gun and the burritos — and she goes, ‘Well, do you still want us to send somebody out?’’ (April 12, 1990)
Book-lovers chew the fat at the Mission Hills Library
- “Mysteries,” says the sign above the shelves. From rows of books below, John Parker removes one hardback, examines the cover, opens to a page, not the first page. He reads a few lines." (September 21, 1989)
(Clockwise from left) Dan Rock, Buddy Lackey, Ward Evans, Norm Leggio, Brian McAlpin. “We’re tryin’ to put every type of feel into a metal groove."Meet El Cajon garage band Psychotic Waltz
- "Some people are naturally rude,” Norm says. “Being in El Cajon here, everyone’s a crystal fiend, except for us. Every day we deal with weirdos and sketchers comin’ up that we can't stand.” (August 3, 1989)
- Patrick Daugherty was the author of the weekly Sporting Box column since 1995. He died April 20, 2016. He wrote for the Berkeley Monthly before the Reader.
What If We’d Been Named Edward?
- Patrick Daugherty of Escondido. Patrick lives in a comfortable, suburban ranch house tucked behind a snatch of well-kept lawn. I park, walk up his newly swept concrete driveway, and ring the doorbell. A thin man, 35 years old, five foot ten, with a thick brown mustache answers. The man appears to have Hispanic ancestry. I learn later, his mother's family is Perez. We shake hands, I say, "Hi, I'm Patrick Daugherty." (Dec, 1, 1994)
Bill Daugherty. He attended Rutgers but never graduated and he lied about that for the rest of his life.Friends Called Him Bill
- Just before he died, I stood up and walked over to the hospital bed, leaned forward, kissed his forehead, and then lied through my teeth, “Good-bye, I love you.” I’ve regretted that lie ever since, regretted that I sent my dad out on one last note of falsity, regretted that the “I love you” was said for the benefit of my mother and not for him. The truth is, I didn’t love him. But don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hate him either. I simply had no idea who he was. (June 15, 2000)
Daugherty at Barter Island, Alaska, 1983. It was the place to be in summer.Work 10 weeks, take 10 months off
- I had — and still have, the last time I looked — a one-room cabin 20 miles west of Fairbanks, near the top of Ester Dome. The decor is threadbare Gold Rush: leaky roof, no running water, and no electricity. Amenities include a Majestic wood cookstove, Ashley Automatic wood stove, one reading chair taken from the Fairbanks city dump, likewise one desk, one mattress on loan from the Salvation Army. 3-part series
Daugherty as homelessThe low-budget horror film of San Diego homelessness
- 8:08. Begging shift starts to form. Clumps of people move out from Horton Plaza to curbside staging areas. The fashion is baseball hats, torn black jackets, tennies, and ’60s long hair. Over by the fountain, a gray-haired man is doing morning maintenance. Today is laundry day. The man sits, puts two black nylon socks on his hands. In his possession are two empty, king-size Carl’s to-go coffee cups. He fills each with water from the fountain, breaks out a tiny bar of soap, washes his socks in one cup, rinses them in the other. (May 3, 1990)
Farewell, Nazi Harlot
- Next morning the Benz began to teach me about life as it's lived. Before my lessons were over, the Benz would require a new oil pump, new shocks, new power brakes, completely rebuilt engine ($1400), new transmission ($1100), new battery, and that, let me stress, was just for openers. To this day I can't make myself review the receipts, can't make myself look at the other 40 items that, in total, added up to more than $4000 U.S. (Aug. 13, 1992)