After 31 Years, Sorrento Supervises Last Closeout at The Crime

A few minutes after 9 last night, Patrick R. Sorrento, The Crimson's production supervisor, walked into the newsroom to a standing ovation. When the applause had ended, Sorrento bluntly asked, "Now is the paper closed out yet?"

The moment was quintessential Pat: the predictable and incessant wisecracks, the no-nonsense concern for the timely production of the newspaper and the authority that stems from decades of looking after The Crimson and the students that put it together.

Sorrento, a 63-year old priest from Everett, retired last night after 31 years of service to The Crimson--a home that gave him late nights and long friendships with generations of Harvard undergraduates.

"When you think of The Crimson, definitely his face comes to mind," said former Crimson president David J. Barron '89. "Pat's a huge presence there."

Sorrento--like all Crimson editors known by his initials, PRS--began his Crimson tenure in the days of molten lead "slugs" of letters. PRS, along with 15 press operators, braved the lead fumes and scorching heat in the basement of 14 Plympton to keep the presses running.

When The Crimson switched to a cold-type system in 1970, Sorrento was one of the few press operators retained.

Jeremy Halbreich '74, former Crimson business manager, says Sorrento was in favor of the change and helped during the transition.

"Were it not for his skills we would have had difficulties," Halbreich said.

Sorrento's assistance has always come along with tease and torment as he continued to teach the ever-changing Crimson staffers to do their jobs.

"If you were trying to paste up your page and looking for the proper tools, and were silly enough to ask Pat if he'd seen any rulers lying around, he'd always reply, 'There's only one ruler in the shop (and that's me)," wrote Jessica A. Dorman '87, former Crimson president, in an e-mail message.

As technology changed, Sorrento's job evolved with it, and he built an immeasurable wealth of newspaper knowledge.

"He knows all of the little rules that everyone tends to forget," said Andrew A. Green '98, former Crimson managing editor. "If you say to him, 'Do you have a shorter word for this?' he has six."

As Sorrento tells it, he was retained for his affability and ease with undergraduates.

"Kids confide in me, ask me questions like they would an older brother or their parents," he says.

According to Crimson lore, Sorrento keeps a closet in his home full of mementos undergraduates have given him.

"He has matchbooks from 25 years ago that two kids who went to a formal brought back to him," Green said.

"He's been around the block a few times but can still relate to 20-year-old kids in a really genuine way," added Green, who attended many a Red Sox game with Sorrento while at Harvard.

Sorrento worked and joked around with now-famous Crimson editors-including Microsoft president Steven C. Balmer '77, commentator Michael E. Kinsley '72 and Clinton defense attorney Nicole Seligman '78-when they were young, scared and comping The Crimson.

"He's a walking history of The Harvard Crimson," said President Matthew W. Granade '99. "He's always threatening to write a book about what everybody did before they were famous."

Editors said PRS is both an honored and feared presence in the production room. He torments slow writers, proofers and assistant night editors, but is always their last resort when problems arise.

Anne C. Krendl '98, former Crimson executive editor, remembers the regular dose of reprimands she received after the paper "closed out" late under her supervision.

One morning at 3 a.m. she realized she was in for the worst. Krendl had accidentally shot the entire newspaper, 20 pages, to negatives.

"I went to admit my mistake to Pat, literally trembling at the thought of telling him that we would be there for another hour or two," Krendl said. "I went in and confessed and stepped back, anticipating a loud stream of curses. But Pat surprised me. He laughed and said, 'Well, I know you didn't mean it, Anne, don't worry, many others have done the same thing. Just don't do it again.'"

When the last page finally rolled through at sunrise, PRS gave Krendl the extra negatives as a souvenir and told her they would keep it a secret.

Such affection won PRS students' trust and loyalty. It is he that alums call for a late-night chat or to check up on the current guard.

Although his job description has changed over time, Sorrento said the ambiance at The Crimson, where students feel more "like family" than classmates, has always stayed the same.

Sorrento said his 30 years at The Crimson have been "a great time." He describes the years as "better than money."

The words Crimson editors use over and over again to describe PRS are "institutional memory."

"You realize, a year or so after you graduate, that all these young kids putting out the paper have no idea who you are, but that Pat is good enough to remember you," Dorman said.A LEGEND: PATRICK R. SORRENTO places cartoons, left, processes film with ANNE C. KRENDL '98, above, and stares down Crimeds young and old, left.

"He has matchbooks from 25 years ago that two kids who went to a formal brought back to him," Green said.

"He's been around the block a few times but can still relate to 20-year-old kids in a really genuine way," added Green, who attended many a Red Sox game with Sorrento while at Harvard.

Sorrento worked and joked around with now-famous Crimson editors-including Microsoft president Steven C. Balmer '77, commentator Michael E. Kinsley '72 and Clinton defense attorney Nicole Seligman '78-when they were young, scared and comping The Crimson.

"He's a walking history of The Harvard Crimson," said President Matthew W. Granade '99. "He's always threatening to write a book about what everybody did before they were famous."

Editors said PRS is both an honored and feared presence in the production room. He torments slow writers, proofers and assistant night editors, but is always their last resort when problems arise.

Anne C. Krendl '98, former Crimson executive editor, remembers the regular dose of reprimands she received after the paper "closed out" late under her supervision.

One morning at 3 a.m. she realized she was in for the worst. Krendl had accidentally shot the entire newspaper, 20 pages, to negatives.

"I went to admit my mistake to Pat, literally trembling at the thought of telling him that we would be there for another hour or two," Krendl said. "I went in and confessed and stepped back, anticipating a loud stream of curses. But Pat surprised me. He laughed and said, 'Well, I know you didn't mean it, Anne, don't worry, many others have done the same thing. Just don't do it again.'"

When the last page finally rolled through at sunrise, PRS gave Krendl the extra negatives as a souvenir and told her they would keep it a secret.

Such affection won PRS students' trust and loyalty. It is he that alums call for a late-night chat or to check up on the current guard.

Although his job description has changed over time, Sorrento said the ambiance at The Crimson, where students feel more "like family" than classmates, has always stayed the same.

Sorrento said his 30 years at The Crimson have been "a great time." He describes the years as "better than money."

The words Crimson editors use over and over again to describe PRS are "institutional memory."

"You realize, a year or so after you graduate, that all these young kids putting out the paper have no idea who you are, but that Pat is good enough to remember you," Dorman said.A LEGEND: PATRICK R. SORRENTO places cartoons, left, processes film with ANNE C. KRENDL '98, above, and stares down Crimeds young and old, left.