I’m not sure if there was an official “Bring a Kid to Work Day” in 1973, but when I was 8 years old, my dad, Richard Roberts, brought me to the art department of the Democrat & Chronicle (D&C) newspaper in Rochester, N.Y. Dad worked as an artist, and eventually as the art director. I felt immensely proud seeing his art published in the paper. Once he surprised me by incorporating one of my drawings into one of his for an article on parenting called “Concern and Nagging –– Know the Difference.” My mom hung the article up on the refrigerator. I couldn’t stop staring at it. Though yellowed, with laminated edges curling in on themselves, I still have a copy.
Dad’s work included creating illustrations, paintings, courtroom sketches, police suspect composite drawings, cartoons, and caricatures for editorials, special publications, and news stories. Caricatures can be tricky. Since the subject matter is intentionally distorted, the artist’s take can sometimes come across as insulting, but I always thought Dad was adept at capturing people respectfully. Comedian Milton Berle came to Rochester once, and liked Dad’s take on him so much he invited my parents to come to his show and visit with him backstage. Dad signed the original caricature, framed it, and gave it to him as a gift.
The work wasn’t always light and fun, however. Dad was asked to create a composite sketch of a man dubbed the “Alphabet Killer,” who had sexually assaulted and murdered several girls whose first and last names started with the same letter. Although Dad was told his signature wouldn’t be included when the sketch was originally published, it was inadvertently left on. My mother was not pleased. The Alphabet Killer was still on the loose. “What if he finds out where you live?” she asked Dad. I wasn’t allowed to walk to school for months.
Dad was also tapped to sketch courtroom proceedings, including the trial of six leaders of the Rochester Mafia, known as “Cosa Nostra,” who were charged with the murder of a man named Vincent Massaro. “The body of Vincent James ‘Jimmy the Hammer’ Massaro was discovered in the trunk of his own car on Nov. 28, 1973, in Monroe County, N.Y.,” states an article from the University of Michigan Law School.
Dad told me, “I was sketching in the front row, and at one point the judge called a recess and the men were lined up to leave the courtroom. As they were walking by, one of them looked at my drawings and said to one of the others, ‘Hey, Sammy, looks just like you.’” Dad jokingly (sort of) shared that he felt a little relieved that his work was well-received by this particular lot.
Our “Bring a Kid to Work Day” began with a tour of various departments. Dad introduced me to administrative assistants, writers, editors, and printing press workers. The printing press room was noisy, but I was fascinated as I watched drab, blank newsprint roll through the press and come out saturated with photos, text, and Dad’s colorful artwork coming to life.
Back in the art department, I sat at the helm of another artist’s table who was out for the day. The creative cubby was replete with paper scraps, pens, paperclips, and adhesives, and was splashed with ink, paint, and marker stains –– a veritable treasure trove for a young artist. I was given a stack of paper and a container of markers and pencils. Pretending I had a deadline to meet, I set to work. As I drew, other artists in the room walked over to check out my artwork. “Look out! It won’t be long until we have another Roberts in the place,” Joan Best, a fellow newspaper artist, announced to the room.
I adored Joan. I thought she was astonishingly cool. I coveted her fashion choices, which consisted of hip, black, chunky-heeled knee-high boots, knit sweater dresses with metal belts, wrap skirts, funky tights, and my favorite –– an embroidered, maroon-colored suede coat with fake fur trim. She looked like Gloria Steinem, and I wanted to be her when I grew up.
We ate lunch at our desks, and although I was too young to understand some of the conversations and jokes shared among the artists, I was old enough to recognize genuine camaraderie. The afternoon flew by, and I didn’t want to leave. I remember asking Dad if we could stay longer. There was a chorus of laughter, and a few “Ha, she reminds us of our first days in the art department” sentiments from the artists, but I just couldn’t imagine there being a better place to work — and I didn’t want to miss a single moment.
In some ways, those moments have stayed with me. It only recently occurred to me that I have been searching for similar creative working environments my whole life –– spaces, like that long-vanished art department, that are humming with creativity, excitement, and hope. Art is hope, after all –– the possibility of something beautiful, moving, and powerful coming to life. The art department felt bewitching –– all the artists, wizards, and magicians, breathing color and life into words.
Bring a kid to work day falls on April 24th, 2025.
