Early Years

Legend has it that Robert George, who ran Evans Printing Company during the middle part of the previous century, once donned his coat, gripped his briefcase, and tipped his hat to the receptionist as he pushed the street door open to the low light of a late winter afternoon — only to return almost immediately. “I thought you’d left for the day, Mr. George,” the receptionist said. “Couldn’t leave,” he explained, “still got eight minutes on the meter.”

By the time I joined Evans in the mid 70’s it was Robert’s son Morton who ran the company. And Mort was visited by no such compunctions; so this trait isn’t necessarily passed down. Mort George was a wonderfully stout, sea captain-bearded, curious man, perpetually primed for laughter. He drove one of the few AMC Aspens that were ever actually sold; a car Mort was quite pleased to own. It was a small round car that much resembled him, and the wraparound glass mirrored his extroverted personality.

We never did establish a strong rapport. “So Craig, how’s your Volkswagen?” was Mort’s stock attempt to engage me, but it was a non-starter; I was not then the talker I have since become. Further, I knew nothing about, and cared little about, cars; still don’t. Nor could I bring myself to reciprocate with: “So Mort, how’s your Aspen?” I probably should have. Given the choice, Morton George would always opt for laughter.

Hope you’re still out there Mort, the world has need of you.