Where were you born and raised?
I was born at Mt. Sinai Hospital. It was a big, major hospital in its day, but I just drove by it…and it’s not there anymore.

We lived in Cleveland for a while, but we moved to Lakewood when I was in second grade and that’s where I grew up… on Belle Avenue. I graduated from Lakewood High School.

My father was an accountant for a steel company that no longer exists. And my mother was a homemaker. I had one brother [William], who was 2 years younger. I didn’t have that typical older child syndrome thing. As a matter of fact, it was the other way around. He was the outstanding one.

[Laughs] I was known locally—at least till I got in at The Plain Dealer—as Will’s sister. He won prizes all the time and was editor of the Lakewood High Times…[and] he was doing stories and pictures for local papers and magazines while he was still in high school.

You grew up during the Depression. How do you think that’s influenced your life today?
We are definitely shaped by the environment we grew up in. [Laughs] For one thing, I’m a packrat, and I hoard things. As a little girl, if I got an extra candy bar I put it away—just in case. But we were okay during the Depression and lived a pretty average life because my dad did not lose his job.

How and when did you know you wanted to be a journalist?
I don’t know. I’ve always been a writer…I remember writing in my diary early on—in the ‘30s. And I was always a letter writer. And when I got to college, I wrote for the college paper, too.

Being a reporter is really all I ever wanted to do. But I was never writing for myself. I was always writing for the reader. I was their eyes and ears. When I was reviewing concerts, I never cared if I liked a group or not. That was not the point. The point was to report what went on.

Where did you go to college and what was your major?
I was all set to go to Ohio Wesleyn…but the father of a friend of mine took her and her sister and me up to the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. After that, I couldn’t go anyplace else.
I majored in English, and Speech and Drama. The Drama was for my mother. She had the mistaken impression that I had talent.

All I wanted to do was write—and I was on the school paper, the Michigan Daily—but I got a teacher’s certificate. And I interviewed for a job, in upper Michigan, too. It went well, until I asked about the recreation in the town. He said: “There is a dance hall, but of course the teachers don’t go there.”

Without thinking, I asked: “Why not?” After that the interview went downhill. I came back to Cleveland in 1941 and tried to get on at both papers [Plain Dealer and Cleveland Press]. But, well, I didn’t know how to type, so I went to a little business school, called Wilcox College of Commerce, on Public Square and took typing and shorthand.

While I was at Wilcox I put out a little paper—just a mimeographed thing—about the people there.

Rumor has it you were in the army. What did you do?
I joined the WAVES [Women Accepted for Voluntary Emergency Service] in 1942 and was sent to Mt. Holyoke and Smith College to study communications. I’m not supposed to talk about it; we were working on codes—breaking things down on code machines so we could understand things.

I wanted to put out a little paper there. By chance I showed it to the commander to see if it looked okay. He said it looked okay, but that I couldn’t publish it because everything we were doing was supposed to be secret and nothing could be published about it.

That ended my journalist career there. We all ended up in Washington, DC. [Jane was demobilized in 1945 with the rank of lieutenant in Naval Intelligence.]

Where was your first newspaper job?
At the Chagrin Valley Herald. It was a new paper, so I started there as the Women’s Editor, and I did other things, because it was a new paper.

And I also did some coverage at night, as a stringer—I covered local school board meetings and things like that—for The Plain Dealer.

When did you get started at The Plain Dealer?
In March of 1952, I’d applied about three times before. And I got in by luck. The woman who was the assistant in the Society Department was having a baby and was getting morning sickness. That day she came in—right when I was there—and told the person interviewing me that she was quitting. He turned to me and asked me if I wanted her job.

He explained that if I took the job that day, I’d make $45, but that if I waited till the next Monday, when the Society Editor was off, he could hire me at $50.

I started at $50 a week the next week…in the Society Department. All I did was use the Blue Book [a social register] and make calls to people in it. And I also became the paper’s Golden Ager columnist, but I didn’t like that name, so I called it Senior Class. In 1962, the Teen Editor left the paper. When that position opened I took it.

You were covering both senior and teen issues? Was that difficult?
Not for me. At the paper they said ‘she’s the woman who covers everything from pimples to pensions,’ but that wasn’t it, I was covering people: People who were enjoying life, people who were reaching out, people who had adventure in their hearts, people who were taking chances.

Covering seniors I was going to a lot of meetings and events and doing a lot of interviews. With the Teen Page, I was working with about 95 kids—teen reporters—from all the high schools in the area. In the beginning it was schooly-dooly things—the Teen Fair at Shaker, the honor awards at Amherst, etc.—but on September 15th, 1964, everything changed.

That’s when the Beatles came to Public Hall. I saw the show and I knew that from then on, nothing was going to be the same for the Teen Page.

And I knew that what I’d seen was my future. My editor supported me as I gradually turned the Teen Page from one that covered nothing but schooly-dooly stuff to one that was devoted to pop music.

So when did you become the paper’s pop music critic?
When the Beatles came in 1966, and I covered their show. My interview with them started my career. The night of the concert they wouldn’t let me in at first, but I don’t feel so bad about that. They wouldn’t let Brian Epstein, the Beatles manager in, either.
You know, I was in my 40s then, but in Cleveland [in the mid-60s], there was a Saturday TV program called The Upbeat Show [hosted by Herman Spero] on Channel 5. Everyone—the teen idols, I mean—who came to town wanted to be on that show, and I spent every Saturday at Channel 5 talking with the musicians and bands, and doing interviews.
[Laughs] That was like getting a Master’s Degree in Pop Music.

Was there any discrimination against you—as a woman covering what is a male-dominated area of journalism?
Absolutely none. But then I had a column and I had a name and I was the Teen Editor and the Rock Editor. People wanted to talk to me.

You were in your mid-40s when you became the Plain Dealer’s Rock critic. Was there any discrimination because of your age?
[Laughs] No. But I’ve actually never thought about that—age, I mean. [Laughs again] But you know, Paul McCartney did tell me, during an interview, that I was the only middle-ager covering Rock that he’d ever met.

In general, I don’t tell my age if I can avoid it because that is a limiter—not in my mind but in other people’s.

As a pop music critic, what was your worst experience?
In my entire career, there were two. One was with a manager….He said reporters could come backstage but not to say a word. I forgot and asked one of the musicians how the show went, and he [the manager] told me to leave.

The other was with the Beastie Boys. They were just starting out but they had such an attitude. In a phone interview they constantly used the ‘F’ word.
Finally, I said: “You know, I’ve interviewed The Mentors and they didn’t talk like you.” There was a long pause on the phone and they stopped using it.

[Laughs] The Mentors are so bad that you can’t print the titles of their songs in a paper. When I did an interview I always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. And I always tried to find something about them that was a human interest note. That can really pep up a story.

There was a lot of national coverage about you retiring in 2002. How did you feel about all the hoopla?
What can you do? They are going to write what they want to write.
But I did it my way. Every year there’s a ceremony where they honor people who hadn’t missed a day of work—we used to call them the Cold Spreaders. There were about 700 other employees there and when I stood up and announced that it was my last day, they couldn’t believe it.

What have you been doing since you retired?
Well, I went back to college…the Friday college [Encore Campus] program at Tri-C in Parma. It’s only for seniors. And it’s not for credit. It’s purely for me. One of my classes was astronomy. It was so crowded that they had to bring in chairs. Another was classical music…The teacher was surprised I enrolled.
Just about every day I have a meeting to go to. Some are just lunch meetings where we talk and catch up on current events; other days it’s a book club or a collectors club. I collect early Cleveland items—memorabilia—and old valentines, and postcards, too.

And I’m still stringing for the PD and doing an occasional piece…I’m definitely keeping my hand in there.
[Laughs] I’m going to a lot of concerts and programs that have nothing to do with rock. And I’m dating, too. We have been going together for about six years. He’s the one that got me interested in going back to college.

You are definitely aging successfully. What’s your secret?
I don’t think of what I’m doing that way—as aging successfully. What difference do birthdays make? The problems come when you stop being active. But I’m not just staying busy, I’m active with a goal. I’m learning and expanding the circle of people I know. They are my contemporaries, maybe not in age, but in attitude.

Also, my mother had a theory that I’ve adopted. She said you will always enjoy things more if you help others enjoy them, so I try to do that. I’m always cutting out cartoons and sharing them with people I know. I always try to be upbeat and not complain.

You are sitting on top of 50-plus years of great stories. Is there a book somewhere in your future?
Yes, but to be honest, I’m having so much fun now not being tied to a writing regime that I haven’t gotten started.