May 2, 1994. I remember it like it was yesterday. First thing in the morning, Sandy Bohn poked her head in the newsroom. “Ted’s coming. He wants everyone in the pressroom right away.”

That couldn’t be good. Ted (I can’t even remember his last name) was a bigwig with American Publishing, The Evening Sun’s corporate owner of only a couple months. If he was coming to Norwich, before deadline, something must be up. Something bad.

Ted rounded us up in the pressroom, which at the time was in our old headquarters on Hale Street, and delivered his news quickly and with nary a word of explanation or comfort. “We’ve sold The Evening Sun to Dick Snyder of the Pennysaver here in Norwich.”

Though 15 years have passed, I distinctly recall the look of shock – and in some cases abject horror – on the faces of my Evening Sun brethren. You could hear a pin drop in the pressroom as we each contemplated our fates. Sold. Again. For the second time in six months. To the Pennysaver.

At the time, I didn’t really know what that would mean. While I’d never met Dick Snyder, I certainly knew about the Pennysaver, and the fear and loathing it struck in the hearts of our sales staff. It would have been the same for my editorial staff as if we’d been sold to the Binghamton Press. We were being swallowed by the enemy.