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Several years ago, a kind reader sent me a nifty little 66-page booklet titled “The 1951 District Line Book.” The cover notes that it’s the “1st Annual Edition,” but I’ve never seen another one.
“The District Line” was the name of The Washington Post’s daily, local, human-interest column, created in 1947 by Bill Gold. When Bill retired in 1981, the column became “Bob Levey’s Washington.” And when Bob left The Post in 2004, it became “John Kelly’s Washington.”
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That’s three different columnists, but it’s really one single column: an unbroken 76-year string of words about Washington. And what is Washington? Well, as Post reader Louise A. Baldwin put it in Bill Gold’s column in 1949: “Washington is a small town that got too big for its bridges.”
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That has always been the theme of this column, which every day has set out to prove that Washington — the Washington area — isn’t (or isn’t just) what people outside of Washington think it is.
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Washington isn’t just politicians. It isn’t just lobbyists. It isn’t just transplants. It’s mostly what I like to call “normal people.” And “normal people” are who this column is written for.
Or was written for. I’m taking The Post’s buyout. There are no plans to replace me.
I don’t mean to suggest that “normal people” around here have no interest in politics or governance or bureaucracy. Those things provide a living for many readers of this column. And “The 1951 District Line Book” — a collection of items that had appeared in Bill’s column — is full of references to the local industry.
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There was, for example, a line overheard on the street: “Yes, I’m a staunch party man, but this year the staunch is pretty terrible.”
Or this description: “What a guy! He’s got the kind of head in which you’d expect to find microfilm.”
That’s a nod to the spy Whittaker Chambers, who in 1948 hid secret documents in a hollowed-out pumpkin on his Maryland farm — and who, in a roundabout way, contributed to the rise of the best thing to ever happen to The Washington Post: Richard M. Nixon.
The pamphlet was published by the District Line Association, which described itself as “a social group with a mutual human interest for anybody who had civic pride and a little printer’s ink in his blood.” It was available for a quarter at High’s ice cream stores or by mail for 35 cents. Proceeds benefited Children’s Hospital. Then as now, the column was the conduit by which The Post encouraged readers to donate to charity.
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Bill Gold depended on reader submissions for the column, just as Bob Levey did and just as I’ve done. Bill’s column included a mix of anecdotes, doggerel, puns — and the most painfully patriarchal of Dad Jokes.
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“I think a murder mystery in a textile factory would make a good yarn,” wrote one Nate Leiderman, a frequent contributor to Gold’s column and the president of the District Line Association.
Some of the things that bug me — bad grammar, bad signage — bugged Bill Gold, too. He once wrote: “The direction sign on the stairs at the National Theater points the way to the ‘Ladies’ Lounge’ and the ‘Men’s Suite.’ But when you get to the top, you find them labeled: ‘Ladies’ Suite’ and ‘Men’s Lounge.’ Things like that bother me.”
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“The District Line” could be personal and grass-roots in a way that, 70 years later, seems especially quaint and disturbingly trusting. Whenever Bill quoted someone, he included the person’s entire home address. He also used the column to advertise kittens and puppies that were available for adoption, complete with the phone number to call:
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Black kitten with just a trace of orange here and there (Shepherd 8082).
Two male Maltese kittens (Woodley 3218).
Three gray kittens; they’ll be 2 months old on Christmas Day (Atlantic 6153).
Some readers tired of all the pet stuff, with one suggesting it might be better to direct people with unwanted kittens to a shelter that practiced painless euthanasia.
“I suppose there’s a good bit of merit to the suggestions,” Bill wrote. “Yet I’m afraid that if I were a kitten, I’d rather live in an alley than not live at all.”
When Bill retired, he handed the reins to Bob Levey. Bob had his own style, but he also promoted the idea of Washington as a hometown, a place, as he put it to me, “of high school sports rivalries, dug-in neighborhood restaurants, bus drivers who had driven the same route for ages and knew all their regular customers.”
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The column, Bob said, was a “human inbox,” a way to make The Post more accessible.
That’s the value of a local column. It builds bridges, even in a city that’s outgrown them.
Helping Hand
Every holiday season, Bill Gold raised money for Children’s Hospital. So did Bob Levey, adding a fundraiser for Camp Moss Hollow over the summers. Today, our fundraising campaign is called The Washington Post Helping Hand.
I’m encouraging readers to donate to three worthy local charities: Bread for the City, Friendship Place and Miriam’s Kitchen. Each of them works to end homelessness and hunger in Washington. To give online, visit posthelpinghand.com.
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John Kelly’s Washington
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