Keeps It Lively in Small Town : Folks Call Editor Lots of Things but Never ‘Dull’

Crusty is one word to describe Bruce Anderson, but that runs the risk of reminding him of Chicken McNuggets, and he absolutely hates Chicken McNuggets.

Curmudgeonly is better, but a little understated for a newspaper editor who recently sneered in print that the Mendocino County Grand Jury was a “gutless posse of senile Rotarians.”

Everyone agrees that Anderson is opinionated, but few concur on whether he is just honest and forthright or a mean-spirited bully.

Whatever Bruce Anderson is called--and he is called a lot of things these days--no one calls him dull.

Every Thursday, whether this small Mendocino County farming town likes it or not, Anderson issues forth his Anderson Valley Advertiser and gives folks something to talk about. (The valley and Anderson are not related.)

“It’s the first thing people read,” said one town resident who asked not to be named. “They come out of the post office with their noses pressed to the pages.”

Who wouldn’t press their noses to the pages of a newspaper engaging in such antics as:

- Using photos of ballerinas and calling them the top judges in the county.

- Choosing a local building or car as Eyesore of the Week.

- Printing a front-page photo of the burly, bearded editor, a cigar in his teeth and a helmet on his head, declaring war on another weekly newspaper.

- Calling the local congressman, Rep. Douglas H. Bosco (D-Occidental), “N. G. (Nerve Gas) Bosco” or “Drillin’ Doug” or simply “30-weight”--without ever using his real name--in retaliation for voting for chemical-weapons production and offshore oil exploration.

Has Convinced Some

“He’s been calling me N. G. Bosco for so long now,” Bosco said laughing, “that . . . now I’m getting mail from people who think N. G. are my real initials.”

Anderson spares no bile when it comes to things he dislikes. And he dislikes many things.

Chicken McNuggets--a particularly odd target, even for Anderson--were written off as “further proof that Americans will eat anything provided it is dipped in grease and coated with sugar.”

Despite this, Anderson, 45, can be friendly and engaging, calling himself a mere editor “in the 19th Century tradition of a crank with his own press.”

Except for the fact that he doesn’t have his own press--he works out of his home and prints at the Ukiah Daily Journal--that is true. He practices quirky, personal journalism that touches readers’ emotions--usually hilarity and hate.

‘Keeps Things Lively’

“No one is neutral--they’re either for him or against him,” said Boonville resident Bennie Bates, adding that she thinks both Anderson and his newspaper are “hilarious.” “He keeps things lively,” she said.

Frank Creasey, political activist and faithful subscriber, is somewhat less amused. “To my way of thinking,” he said, “Bruce Anderson is a disgrace and his newspaper is nothing but trash.”

If it’s trash, it’s successful trash. Each edition sells 1,500 copies--twice the population of Boonville, and enough to make the newspaper self-supporting. Civic leaders around the county read it, although not all take it seriously.

“He isn’t particularly accurate, and he doesn’t stay within the bounds of responsible journalism, but maybe that’s why people read it,” Bosco said.

The Advertiser is usually eight pages of rambling letters, sports (Anderson played baseball at California Polytechnic State University at San Luis Obispo and remains a softball nut), news briefs, personal columns, local history and a Conrad cartoon from The Times.

‘Bully With a Typewriter’

Tommy Wayne Kramer of the Mendocino Grapevine, a more conventional weekly published by two former Times staff members, called Anderson “a bully with a typewriter” because he “only takes on people who can’t fight back.”

He cited the example of a local TV repairman--a volunteer firefighter and father of five--branded a “porno pimp” by Anderson for running a videotape-rental business offering some R-rated movies.

“Bruce promised to take on the ‘rich and powerful’ in Mendocino County--but all he does is call them names,” Kramer once wrote. “He promised investigative journalism--but his next investigative piece will be his first.”

Anderson only grins at such remarks. “I’m a vastly misunderstood person,” he said. “Everything you’ve heard about me is a dirty lie.” The lack of in-depth stories is due to the lack of even one full-time reporter, he said.

Only One Regret

He regrets only one thing, a campaign of abuse directed at two local school officials. “I regret doing it and I am ashamed of doing it and I would not do it again,” he said. “I try to focus now on people who can fight back.”

He shrugs off criticism by other reporters as elitist jealousy and said the complaints of local politicians and community leaders are just so much whining.

“It’s not like I’m a complete outsider hassling these people on a weekly basis,” said Anderson, a 15-year resident of the area. “I live here; I care about the community, and I think people know that.”