My first job as a dedicated newspaper science writer was at The Sacramento Bee. I took that job in 1984, newly minted out of graduate school, and not at all sure what I was actually supposed to do. The Bee wasn't sure either – the paper had never had a designated science writer before and many of the editors were, at first, dubious about the idea. And me.
Fortunately, I had a great model just down the road. The San Francisco Chronicle had two of the best science writers in the country, Charlie Petit (now at the Tracker) and David Perlman, who, as Los Angeles Times' columnist Maria L. LaGanga wrote this week in a lovely tribute is still hard at work: "The San Francisco Chronicle's David Perlman churned out 111 stories last year and is still going strong. Not bad for someone born before the discovery of penicillin and Pluto."
Perlman has received other such plaudits in recent years. When he turned 90, The New York Times celebrated the occasion with a piece by Corey Kilgannon which began by noting that it would be harder to find an older science writer at work "or a more youthful one." Last November, my fellow tracker, Paul Raeburn, while writing about a Perlman piece on primate research, took a moment to acknowledge the "remarkable" byline.
And Perlman does indeed remain one of the sharpest science writers working today. But I want to pay tribute to his other qualities as well – to his bottomless kindness and generosity. He's nurtured and encouraged countless young science journalists, including myself in those early days at The Sacramento Bee. Despite being my nearest Northern California competition, he guided me through scientific meetings, shared sources, introduced me with enthusiasm to scientists and science writers alike. I still remember going to a news conference at NASA-Ames in Mountain View at which I asked a question that he admired. "Isn't she great?" he said to another reporter standing next to us.
When I remember that moment I always see myself glowing like an incandescent light bulb. A couple years ago when I was on book tour for The Poisoner's Handbook, he insisted I stay with him during my Bay Area stop. After the last event, we walked down to a little Italian restaurant where, not surprisingly, he'd befriended the staff. On the way home, he set a brisk walk-off-the-pasta pace up one of the city's famously steep streets.
I hurried to keep up. As usual. But I know that keeping up with Dave Perlman has made me better in countless ways.
— Deborah Blum
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