The lesson of the peaches is a Christmastime staple

I got to thinking about Chuck Place the other day. I always remember him this time of year.

I don’t recall if he ever sent me a Christmas card. He never showed up at my door with a present or a plate of holiday cookies. My memory of him is not triggered by the sight of a Christmas tree, even though he was inducted into the Georgia Foresters Hall of Fame in 2007, the year before he died.

Chuck’s gift to me was passing along a story about peaches — a lesson in journalism and, more importantly, a call of duty.

He was an interesting character in an anomalous script. A fellow from Brooklyn ends up with a career in the piney woods of the South? Go figure. He was a champion of conservation education and environmental stewardship. I once told him if he ever published his memoirs, he should borrow the title “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.’’

Chuck was an avid cyclist and hiked the Appalachian Trail twice. He also was a student of military history and enjoyed reading. He was more of a clip-and-save than a cut-and-paste guy. He often would send me articles of interest he harvested from magazines and newsletters.

I don’t remember when he passed along “The Lesson of the Peaches’’ or the name of the publication where he found it. He later told me he thought of me when he saw the timeless message.

It was a reprint of a column by the late Al Martinez, of the Los Angeles Times, published on Christmas Day in 1986. Martinez eloquently wrote about working for another California newspaper in the 1950s.

Over the years, I’ve shared this story with many of my colleagues. It has found a measure of immortality on the Internet, where it has been posted and swapped with a reverence for its humanitarian appeal.

I have often wondered how I could relate the story to my readers. We may be smack dab in the middle of the Peach State, but I wasn’t sure I could skillfully apply the moral of a story that happened 2,200 miles and 60 years ago.

Times have changed. The newspaper business certainly has.

Doing the right thing never changes.

Martinez was a journalist for the L.A. Times, one of those gifted common-man storytellers who sought out the extraordinary in the ordinary. He was blessed to have learned a valuable lesson early in his newspaper career working as a general assignment reporter on the city desk of the Oakland Tribune.

He was on the clock one Christmas Eve and had been assigned a front-page story about a young boy dying of leukemia. The child’s Christmas wish was to eat fresh peaches.

It was the kind of tear-jerker story that newspapers covet during the holidays. Martinez knew it “would be milked for every sob we could squeeze from it, because everyone loved a good cry at Christmas.’’

He was working on the article, and his midnight deadline was fast approaching. He got a call from his city editor, a man named Alfred P. Reck. Martinez told his boss it was coming along nicely, but there was one glitch. It was winter. There were no fresh peaches anywhere to be found.

Reck had a reputation for being a little rough around the edges, but his reporters respected him. He had a heart of gold.

“Call Australia,’’ the city editor told him and hung up the phone.

Martinez couldn’t believe his ears. Australia? The rapid fire of deadline was closing in. He contacted an official with an Australian agricultural association and arranged to have an airline fly the peaches from down under to the Bay Area on Christmas Day.

But there was another problem. It was next to impossible to get an imported agricultural product cleared through customs on a holiday. The persistent Reck checked back on the progress of the story. He insisted that Martinez call the California secretary of agriculture at home. The young reporter did as he was told.

Reck was back on the line a few minutes past midnight to issue Martinez his final instructions. He was to arrange for a photographer to meet the plane and take the peaches to the boy’s house.

Martinez pleaded with his editor. “If I don’t start writing this now, I’ll never get the story in the paper.’’

There was a pause.

“I didn’t say get the story,’’ Reck told him. “I said get the boy his peaches.’’

Forty years ago this week, Martinez reflected on those words.

“If there is a flash point in our lives to which we can refer later — moments that shape our attitudes and affect our futures — that was mine,’’ he wrote. “Alfred Pierce Reck had defined for me the importance of what we do, lifting it beyond newsprint and deadline to a level of humanity that transcends job. He understood not only what we did but what we were supposed to do.

“I didn’t say get the story. I said get the kid his peaches. … The boy got his peaches, the story made the home edition, and I received a lesson in journalism more important than any I’ve learned since.’’

That is why I thought of Chuck Place the other day.

Sharing this story was his gift to me. It is now my gift to you.

This story was originally published December 16, 2016 at 4:44 PM with the headline "The lesson of the peaches is a Christmastime staple."