Everyone knows that the hard-drinking, writin', fightin' newspaperman is a creature of the past, a denizen of a simpler age, when "media" was just a word in Latin and penny-press barons waged ferocious circulation wars with gory headlines and salacious scoops. Everyone, that is, except people who know Tom Fitzpatrick of the Chicago Sun-Times. At 42, "Fitz" seems to be a character straight from the typewriters of Charles MacArthur and Ben Hecht, reporting, writing, drinking and brawling in the best Front Page tradition. "Yeah," he says. "I'm out of my time. I would have been great 30 years ago." Perhaps, but...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
