Henry N. Manney III

Henry N. Manney III.

My writing-style is that of Henry N. Manney III.
“Yrs trly” and “yr fthfl srvnt” are stolen from Manney.
I ain’t Manney, and not as good.
Manney covered Formula One auto racing for Road & Track Magazine back in the ‘60s, which I subscribed to from 1968 on.
He also was an Editor-at-Large for Cycle World Magazine. I never saw anything by him in Cycle World.
What I read was his Formula One race coverage. He was a gentle dude who reported what he saw.
He usually said “practice was the usual shambles,” reducing madness to being comprehensible.
Formula One is a stinkpot of madness, everyone trying to be superior.
Starting grids were determined by qualifying. The fastest qualifier got pole-position, and grid-position worked down from that.
Qualifying might go okay for a short while, until someone slid off-course.
Formula One was held on road circuits, many turns and straights.
The cars are open-wheeled single-seat racecars, essentially a gas-tank with engine and wheels.
Manney would exercise his gentle touch, making it all seem attainable to us ordinary souls.
Sadly, Manney had a stroke in the early ‘80s, which left him in a coma until he died in 1988.
Well, I had a stroke too. It didn’t leave me in a coma, but pretty much my whole left side was paralyzed — what I say is the brain-matter was no longer there to operate things.
I was persnickety about it: “I should be able to tie my shoes.” So by trying I inadvertently rewired my brain to operate my left side.
My speech had also been royally messed up; I was talking too fast — gibberish.
It reduced to a monotone, but then one day I decided to address my dogs just like I had in the past.
“Let us see!”
My dogs were thrilled; the master is back.
So I can now pass for never having had a stroke.
But a stroke can put the lights out. It left Manney in a coma; he eventually died.
Manney would report without drama or histrionics, which is essentially what I do.
Years ago I wrote up walking our Irish-Setters in Rochester’s St. Patrick’s Day parade.
The parade starts on East Ave., Rochester’s ritziest street.
Members of the Brighton Volunteer Fire Department were openly urinating on the manicured lawns of Rochester’s richest — causing fear and loathing.
I reported it, of course, in my usual deadpan Henry N. Manney way.
And that’s how I do it; madness everywhere reported off-handedly as Henry would do it.
Manney was replaced at Road & Track by Rob Walker, an independent Formula One entrant.
He was interesting, but he wasn’t Manney.

• My stroke was October 26th, 1993.