KIRKUS REVIEW
These boyhood memories and reminiscences of years on the Boston Transcript have in part at least their charms. The busy Mr. Morton, of the Atlantic Monthly et al, may have erred in the direction of too total recall of his agreeable but not riotously revealing boyhood, but his Transcript chronicles are a sheer delight. This cherished Boston daily newspaper, whose small but proud circulation flickerd out in 1941, was lamented by ""the right people"" and all those cherishing the Boston mystique. As a young working journalist, the author observed the Transcript's genius gathering a startling group of inbred journalists to a common effort. The Transcript's ""interest in necrology"" is a case in point. (""Nothing threw the city room into such high-speed sleuthing and telephoning as a first-rank bereavement."") Then the staff--the Clergy's Page editor (heavy beard, black suit and two envelopes inserted at 45 degree angles by each ear); an ancient grey lady with a typewriter so antique that the entire roller must be removed to view the copy; a charming editor who toddled off to an auto show while Fenway Park burned; a profane photographer fond of putting ""our kind of people"" through outrageous paces. In all an affectionate, often hilarious tribute to a lively ghost. Fun for everyone--a must for Bostonians.