By John Lindstrom
Publisher
Posted: May 9, 2019 1:43 PM

Bob Berg died Wednesday, succumbing in a long battle against multiple myeloma. If you never got a chance to know him, well you missed someone who knew how to work with Republicans and Democrats, show commitment, honesty and thorough integrity through his posts as spokesperson for former Governor William Milliken and former Detroit Mayor Coleman Young.

But one does not know someone for more than 40 years, as did this reporter, without picking up a few stories.

Bob, for example, loved Porsches. Was rapturous about Porsches. He was delighted to regale you for … for… oh, hours, about how he cared for his Porsche, how he only had it serviced at one specific shop in Cleveland (and a tuneup there in the 1970s cost about two months of this reporter's wages), and then his long routine about preparing the car for the winter – because it could never be allowed out in the winter, God knows, not all with all the salt on the roads – with super-inflating the tires, draining the oil and putting in 20-weight oil and on and on.

One wretched January day during the 1978 blizzard, a radio reporter named Lee Foley punked Bob by running into Bob's office, next to Mr. Milliken's office, and shouting Bob's wife had an emergency with the kids, but her car wouldn't work so she had to take the Porsche and she had just showed up and the Porsche was COVERED IN SALT!

Bob, who was pale anyway, lost what color he had in his face, cried out, "NOOOOO!!!" and rushed from his office. Bob then spent much of day prowling the Capitol looking for Lee.

And Bob along with George Weeks, then Mr. Milliken's chief of staff and who we sadly lost last year, was also part of one of the best reporting stories this reporter can tell. And it involves Cindy Kyle, now communications director for the Institute for Public Policy and Social Research at Michigan State University, but from the late 1970s to early 1980s a top reporter at Lansing's Associated Press Bureau (and this reporter's darling wife).

In telling this story, you have to know in the days before 9/11/01 anyone could pretty much wander through any state office building without having to show ID, have an appointment, be searched, go through security and all the rest. That included the governor's office, and it was accepted that reporters could hang outside the door of Mr. Milliken's personal office and try to grab him or whoever was in the office with him for a quick interview.

You must also recall in the late 1970s personal computers were limited to Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak's garage and most computers were the size of the Capitol. Which meant business was done by typing on typewriters, specifically IBM Selectrics. While all reporters knew how to type, many men did not. Typing in those Neanderthal times was still largely a woman's occupation.

It was late one evening during one of the many recessions Michigan suffered through in those years, and Mr. Milliken was meeting with then-House Speaker Bobby Crim, Senate Majority Leader Bill Faust, House Republican leader Bill Bryant, Senate GOP leader Bob VanderLaan, Management and Budget Director Jerry Miller and Bob (Berg) and George (Weeks).

Close to 20 reporters, including this one and Cindy, were right outside Mr. Milliken's office door, waiting for some signal they had all reached an agreement.

Finally, the door opened a crack, Bob leaned out and said an agreement was reached. All the leaders had to brief their caucuses and then details of the agreement would be released, he said.

BAM! That was all we needed, the reporters flew from the doorway to get bulletins out – which in the late '70s meant little more than sending smoke signals.

That is, all the reporters ran out except Cindy, who continued to stand by Mr. Milliken's door.

Bob looked into the office, said, "They're gone," and BAM! again as Mr. Crim, Mr. Bryant, Mr. VanderLaan and Mr. Miller rushed out and headed straight to one of the Selectrics stationed at the receptionist's desk, each holding a pile of notes from the meeting.

But all they could do is take the cover off the Selectric. One of them, Cindy doesn't recall who, sat at the typewriter and seemed to expect it would work by force of his will. "I don't how to type!" he finally shouted. "Who can type?"

But none of the other men could type either. A wail came up, "Who can type? Who can type?"

Cindy raised her hand and said, "I can type."

"THE GIRL! GET THE GIRL!" the leaders of Michigan all shouted. Cindy calmly walked to the Selectric, turned it on, rolled in a sheet of paper…

And typed while she asked questions. "The agreement will cut how much from the budget? Okay. And what about school aid, okay, yes. And there will be cuts where else? Okay. And, I'm sorry, what taxes were going to changed?" All the while, legislative leaders shouted at her all the details they had intended to keep secret from reporters.

Bob and George both stood there watching this, slack-jawed and continuously muttering some word that started, "mutha" something or other.

When she finished typing, Bob took the sheet and walked over to the copier. Our state's leaders, somehow still not realizing who Cindy was, were thanking her for her help. Bob brought over copies of the agreement to the leaders who then rushed off to their caucuses before another midnight session started.

When they left, Bob handed Cindy back the original typed sheet. "It's your story," he said, and boy was it ever.

Requiescat in pace, Bob.