Pete Minego out of the hiospital 1955 Thanks Blaine Bierley!

What a pleasant surprise from Blaine Bierley, the great Paul Bierley's nephew.

Portsmouth Times


November 11, 1955





Pete’s Walking Again, And He’ll Be Leaving Hospital Soon





By Van Havel





The Old Janitor is back on his feet and walking again.

Well, maybe he’s not quite as frisky as he used to be, nor will he be available for any walking marathons immediately. But nevertheless, Pete Minego is going home from Mercy Hospital Monday and he expects to be back at his desk at The Times in a week or so.

It was a month ago today that Pete, The Times’ veteran reporter and columnist, slipped from a chair at the Elk’s Club and suffered a broken hip.

But that isn’t the only thing he’s broken since then. Mercy Hospital officials told him he’s made a record recovery. At the end of three weeks, 75-year-old Pete was on his feet. During the fourth week he was walking.

And he’s broken the record for the amount of mail received by a Mercy Hospital patient. His fan mail for one day amounted to 317 pieces.

Addressed to “The Janitor,” “Pete,” just plain “Minego” or his full name, W. P. Minego, the cards and letters reached him. By this time he’s lost track of the number of mail pieces, flowers, good things to eat and other gifts he’s received from many well-wishers.

Pete, who complained at first that the doctors and nurses were making a pin-cushion out of his hip when they gave him morphine for his early pain and later accused the doctor of embroidering it, says he’s been “nursing the situation along” since he’s been in the hospital.

For many years Pete covered the hospitals as part of his “beat” as a reporter, but this was the first time he ever was a patient. And it’s hard for the effervescent news veteran to take.

But he’s had a steady stream of visitors in Room 247 at the hospital.

Hess Engle installed a television set so he could watch from his bed (Saturday college football and the Cleveland Browns grid games on Sundays are his favorites).

The visiting delegations reach almost convention proportions when he has his portable radio tuned in on his beloved Portsmouth High Trojans on Friday nights.

Merrill L. Rowe, manager of the Elks Club and a long-time pal of Pete, has been a pal indeed during his illness. Mr. Rowe has run his errands, paid his bills, rustled up the three pints of blood Pete needed and served as a staunch helper.

Pete’s biggest break (besides the bone that was fractured) came at the time of his accident. Dr. Ray Barry happened to be there and took immediate charge of the situation. He kept Pete’s kind friends from moving him until Glynn’s ambulance arrived--which, of course, was the thing to do.

His rapidly improved condition is easily detected in the increasing number of wisecracks to his doctors and nurses.

“Broken bones aren’t what they’re cracked up to be,” he said. “But there’s no bones about it, I have a good doctor. But the operation left me in stitches.”

His doctor placed a whole new joint in his hip, and Pete thinks he’ll get along fine.

“I’m not worried,” he said. “A live wire is good on any circuit. And I’ll be singing a new theme song, ‘Hip, Hip Hoorah.’ But I’m laying for the first guy who says, ‘Hey, Pete, you got anything on your hip?’”

Laughing off his speedy recovery, Pete says, “Don’t sell me too cheaply; it was just a slip.”

So soon the bachelor columnist will be back at his desk to concoct more of his observations on women, like:

“A gal with a shady character never has a bright future.”

Or:

“No one should try to do two things at one. This includes women who put on weight and slacks at the same time.”