On a strangely cool August day several years ago, I walked into a New York City classroom to begin my first day of classes at Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism. Inside that small, overheated room were a dozen other students, and the air was filled with the smell of coffee and breakfast pastries.
At the front of the room sat a gruff-looking man, dressed in a rumpled suit, and sporting wild white hair. A thick set of papers lay in front of each of our chairs on a rectangular conference table, and on top of those daunting reading materials was a brown paper bag.
Journalists are naturally inquisitive folk (or nosy, depending on how you look at it), and it didn't long for us to ask about the lunch sack in front of us.