Overall the life Veno does describe seems pretty typical; full of at-work intrigue, children, and happiness with his surroundings wherever he is. His condensed work history, in its brevity, seems dizzying, like a pinball's journey down. Except Veno, as evidenced by the very existence of this book, is still very much bouncing off the bumpers, ready to make noise.

It's the last chapter of Invisible Ink which will endure. He describes the scenario of a publisher who doesn't like an article, not because it's poorly written or in any way inaccurate. No, the publisher doesn't like it because it makes someone in the publisher's circle of friends - in this case a judge - look bad.

The editor, late in his career - Carl Veno - is asked to fire the reporter who wrote the series:

"There were more questions buzzing around in my mind. Was I willing to keep the comfortable security I had and go out and fire the reporter and remain on staff like a journalistic traitor? On the other hand, did I want to throw away everything I had worked for for nine years over a story that readers would forget in a couple of days? ... No one really cared. Most readers believed the press was loaded with errors and mistakes anyway. One more wouldn't make a difference. Few Americans see heroes in the press. Many intensely dislike the press."

There's more.

Here Veno paints a complex scenario and walks us through his tangled thought process. The book is worth the money for this final chapter alone as Carl drives past the Liberty Bell on his way home.

He ends on a "cheerful" note that describes so much about the change of the newspaper industry over the late 20th century and his part in it:

"The daily Free Press would eventually become a weekly. The Herald Statesman closed. The Newark News closed. The Mount Vernon Argus closed. The Hudson Dispatch closed. Five of the eight newspapers (where I worked) are no longer operating."