A Man Named Mogg

Sometimes voices from years ago ring clear in our heads as though they were heard just yesterday. Then they are gone.

Over five decades ago I was already an established writer going to high school. I say “established” because I had already been paid as a writer since the age of 14. I took Journalism as an elective subject almost every semester at Sylmar High just for the fun and sheer enjoyment involved in writing. I loved language. In all of my journalism experiences, including sports editor for the school paper, my teacher was one Mr. Albert Mogg. He was a young man in his thirties at the time and little did I suspect that this teacher would have such an impact on my life.

Mr. Mogg taught me solid journalism, something that is totally lacking in today’s news. I learned, despite my enthusiasm, that editorials were reserved for the…