Jerusalem Report logo small (credit: JPOST STAFF)
Jerusalem Report logo small (credit: JPOST STAFF)
It was a balmy Friday September morning in Jerusalem. Like a good Jewish husband, I was on the way to pick up the meat and groceries before Shabbat. My office was on Hillel Street, near King George. The butcher and grocer were on Havatzelet, close to the original offices of The Jerusalem Post, my first place of employment in Jerusalem a few years earlier.

Ben-Yehuda Street was a quiet thoroughfare with very little two-way traffic, a taxi stand on one side of the street toward Jaffa Road and a few poor old men sitting on stools next to portable shoeshine stands. As I strolled down Ben-Yehuda, I heard shouting, in English.

Running like a madman, eyes rolling with excitement, black Van Dyke beard quivering, waving a two-page broadsheet wildly in his right hand, with a pack of newspapers tucked under his left arm, was the usually totally sedate and controlled N. David Gross, at that time a copy editor on the news desk.

Read More