1. Cleo Tobbi
Writing About Place
Wilentz
17 March 2013
Sweet Land of Liberty
It’s 50 degrees on an early February night in southern California and it might as
well be 10 below. A line of 20 people shiver and sway outside in anticipation of getting to
the front of a walk-up window. There is no place for the eager patrons to wait inside the
small, chocolate brown and cream-colored building but they hold their positions in the
cold. Getting out of line would be foolish. A forfeited place in line is a forfeited chance at
satisfaction, nostalgia, and comfort.
The line is a colorful ribbon of characters wrapped around the building. Coach
purses and done-up highlighted hair wait next to plain ponytails, sweats, and tattered
running shoes. A Chinese couple discusses their plan of action in their native tongue.
There are no smiles exchanged as the two contemplate their final decision. This is
serious business. The process when making it to one of the two open windows is made
easier if the customer is ready when he gets there. On this night, the line has forced a
third window open in hopes of easing traffic.
The line grows and more people join to purchase a piece of American comfort.
The only topic of conversation revolves around what lies behind the glass window.
Murmurs of “what kind?” “how much?” and “how many?” snake throughout the
shivering crowd. They all choose to bear the unnatural socal cold because they crave a
glaze-covered, fat-infused, sprinkle-coated ring of fried dough from The Donut Man.
***
At around 1:30 am on a brisk night, Kevin Salvini takes his first bite of a
strawberry doughnut from The Donut Man. The doughnut, a raised, glazed piece of
dough filled with fresh, syrupy red strawberries, is the size of a hamburger that must be
served in a small cardboard box. Salvini attacks his mound of dough and grease and
syrup with a plastic fork. No strawberry is left behind and not a bit of fried goodness
goes to waste. He slops up his late night sticky, messy, sugary dessert in minutes and
then licks his fingers to savor every last fleck of glaze and sweetness.
Salvini is visiting the popular 24-hour doughnut shop for the first time. He
arrives just in time for fully stocked trays and no line. Peering inside the fish tank-like
shop, Salvini studies the plethora of gaudy treats before choosing the best doughnut for
his first try. In front of the teenage employee taking orders, the left-hand window
encases rows of shiny, flakey, chocolate and maple-glaze, raspberry and lemon jelly,
Bavarian crème and bear claw doughnuts standing-by for the late-night crowd. In the
opposite case, the smaller chocolate and yellow cake doughnuts are in lined up by
topping: white or chocolate icing, rainbow sprinkles, chocolate sprinkles, coconut flakes,
crumb, and chopped peanuts.
Salvini travelled 10 miles from Pomona to hunch his six-foot frame down to one
of the 4-foot-high windows.
“Can I get one of those strawberry-dazzle-amazing things?” Salvini asks, pointing
to the tray of fifteen giant strawberry-filled doughnuts displayed.
“What do they put in them?” Salvini asks the air, after polishing off the
monstrous pastry. “Delicious. How do they come? Godlike. When do they come? All
night long.”

2. ***
Many ask, “What is more American than apple pie?” Well, according to US sales
and statistics, doughnuts crush pie. According to Sally Levit Steinberg’s “The Donut
Book,” 10 billion doughnuts are sold per year in America. The American Institute of
Baking shows how pies don’t even break the 2 million mark in a year. Pie requires skill,
time, and grandma’s secret recipe. Doughnuts start out pretty simple by contrast– just
dough and frying oil. With a dollar or less, all the key ingredients are present in a
doughnut– sugar, fat, and carbs. They can come round, square, twisted, jelly-filled,
fruit-stuffed, and sugarcoated. The doughnut, either buttery and flakey and drenched in
glaze or rich and thick and iced with frosting and sprinkles has no competitor when
Americans search for breakfast, dessert, or a late night snack. And at The Donut Man,
there is no comparison. They take the simplest snack and turn it into a delicacy that has
Americans traveling far and wide.
The Donut Man, owned by Jim and Miyoko Nakano, has been feeding the
American doughnut addiction for the greater Los Angeles area 24 hours a day, and 7
days a week for 40 years. Nestled between two other independent establishments, the
tiny shop is located on the historic Route 66 in the suburban town of Glendora. The
quintessential American town, Glendora is quiet, clean, and virtually crime-free. Of
course, the ideal American town must provide the ideal American food. What is more
ideal than the pastry that began in the trenches in World War I and Americanized when
commuters needed to eat on the go? They are easy toorder, cheap to buy, and quick to
gobble up. There is a common vernacular that goes along with ordering doughnuts.
Mention words like, “glaze,” “bear claw,” or “maple bar,” to any American and the words
will not only be understood but will also promote a rumbling stomach. And as simple as
a doughnut may appear to be, there is a delicate process involved. At The Donut Man,
this traditional, American snack is available year round and serves soccer moms and
stoners alike.
“Doughnuts are all basically made of the same things but it’s how you handle [the
dough],” Nakano says. The Donut Man makes sure to handle their doughnuts with
precision. Consistency is of the utmost importance and among both the daytime and
nighttime bakers are employees who have worked at the shop for over 30 years. Donut
Man doughnuts have achieved unchanging perfection.
***
The drive to The Donut Man isn’t far for daytime baker and Glendora native,
Brent Gardner. He arrives every morning at 6 am already dressed in his baker’s outfit.
The clothes are simple: white pants, white shirt, white gloves, and a yellow “Donut Man”
trucker hat. After grabbing his matching white apron from the back of the store,
Gardner doesn’t need to take many steps to get to his workstation. He asks Nakano
which doughnuts the shop is running low on and goes from there. If the shop needs to
make cake doughnuts, his job is easy. Cake doughnuts are the small, dense doughnuts
that are typically iced with frosting. Out of some doughnut shops, the cake doughnut can
be described as a “brick.” The Donut Man cake doughnuts, moist and decadent, make it
feel as though each bite is into your own birthday cake.
For the cake doughnut, Gardner simply scoops batter into a machine that shapes
and churns the dough directly into the fryer. After those fry for about 3 minutes, another
worker moves them about 2 feet away to the glaze and frosting station for decoration.

3. The real skill comes in when Gardner is asked to make raised doughnuts. They
are called “raised” doughnuts because unlike cake doughnuts, the dough used for these
doughnuts contains yeast, which needs time and warmth to rise in a proofer, a metal
box that quickens the rate of fermentation of yeast using controlled temperature and
humidity levels.
Before starting, Gardner makes sure to coat the slab of oak wood in front of him
with a blanket of flour before he begins preparing the dough to fry. He only takes
amount of dough that he needs from the giant tub of already mixed dough. While most
recipes for at-home doughnut frying advise for an all-purpose flour for the base, The
Donut Man uses potato flour along with egg, yeast, and water in their recipe. Gardner,
an employee at The Donut Man since he was 12 years old, handles the dough like a
surgeon. He takes a bench scraper and begins hacking at the mass of dough, separating
into four equal mounds. With the 3-foot long rolling pin, he flattens one of the wads of
dough so that it is an inch thick and takes up most of the 3x4 table. Gardner looks at the
dough; he’s appraising it. He can feel it getting sticky and he knows it needs more flour
so it won’t stick. He reaches for the strainer to the right of the table and showers the
flattened dough with another coat of flour. When air bubbles form under the dough, he
smoothens them out with care as if he were perfecting an already made bed.
Ah, now the doughnut is ready to be shaped. Gardner grabs a silver, cylindrical,
palm-sized doughnut shaper from the shelf above his head and plunges it into the
dough. Each time he hammers at the dough, Gardner flicks the freshly cut hoops onto
his left thumb. After he has five rings around his finger, he lays the newly rounded
doughnuts on the metal tray and then continues to drive the shaper into the remaining
dough. The tray sits tohis left until it is filled with rings of raw dough. Once the tray has
about 25 raw rings placed evenly apart, Gardner slides the tray into the proofer behind
him.
After about 5-10 minutes in the proofer, the fry cook takes the tray of risen
dough and circles and sinks them into scalding hot soybean oil. The cook waits until the
doughnuts are puffed to perfection and then, with oversized chopsticks in hand, he flips
them over to continue frying. There are no timers set or watches checked. The bakers
and cooks are simply trained to know when the doughnuts are cooked to The Donut
Man standard.
Gardner, the fry cook, and the decorator do stop working until all the doughnuts
needed for the daytime shift are sitting on the display trays waiting for hungry
customers. When baking for the dayshift reaches its quota, Garnder’s shift ends,
typically sometime between noon and 2pm. When nighttime baker, Mark Sinclair,
clocks in at 6pm, the entire process repeats.
The Donut Man’s famous fruit doughnuts are made exactly the way a regular
raised doughnut is made, minus the thumb tricks because these doughnuts have no
holes. These doughnuts need their centers. When they balloon up after being in the fryer
for 3 minutes, they rest long enough for the fry cook to place another batch into the
scorching oil before they receive a glaze bath. The doughnuts are then slit horizontally
and stuffed with syrupy strawberries or peaches.
Nakano defines himself by the integrity of his doughnuts. Throughout his
morning shifts, he examines the ready trays with a keen eye and tastes various
doughnuts for freshness.

4. Nakano will tear a small, flakey bite from a blueberry crème puff or a plain glazed
doughnut sitting on a side tray waiting to be displayed. Eyes closed and chewing slowly,
Nakano tests the pieces of sweet dough against his keen palate. If the doughnut passes,
he gives a slight nod to himself and continues to take orders from customers. If the
doughnut does not meet his standards, the tray is dumped.
Nakano even lets his customers sample doughnuts they are unsure of purchasing.
“Is that one good?” A middle-aged woman in Jimmy Choo heels and sunglasses
asks Nakano as she points to chocolate French-style doughnut.
“Here, have a try,” Nakano says as he hands her a piece of the doughnut in
question.
“Oh, that’s amazing,” the newcomer says. “Oh God, that’s good.”
***
Route 66 runs through the middle of Glendora and the town happily dedicates
many stores, restaurants, and signs along the road to the famous title. Since established
in 1926, Route 66 has been known by many names including, “The Mother Road,” “The
Main Street of America,” and “Will Roger’s Highway.” The road is paved for 2,448 miles
from Los Angeles to Chicago and runs through California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas,
Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri, and Illinois. The Mother Road was an essential part of
travel during the Dust Bowl of the 1930s when desperate Midwesterners aimed for
California.
But Glendora, during the hours of 6am to 5pm, is an historian’s dream. As the
famous road cuts through the town, restaurants and stores make sure you know which
street you’re on as you drive by them. A massive sign in the shape of a cowboy boot and
looks like it belongs on the Las Vegas Strip greets those who wish to dine at The Golden
Spur. Steak and seafood make up the typical American-style gourmet menu but The
Golden Spur wasn’t always for fine dining. The white tablecloth restaurant once acted as
a ride-up hamburgers stand for the equestrian community in the 1930s and 40s. Also on
The Main Street of America, the popular Legends Classic Diner relishes in its unique
location in addition to its typical retro 50s jukebox and Classic Coca-Cola-themed décor
also has vintage signs for Route 66 along the interior. Although the history of the town
may fascinate a handful of folk, one big reason to visit Glendora is to fix a doughnut
craving at any hour of the day.
Travelers drive right by Lady’s Donuts or Class One Donut Croissant Café, both
also on Route 66, they avoid heading to Foothill Blvd for Big Dan’s Donuts or to Grand
Ave for Daily Donuts, and instead make a beeline to The Donut Man in their pursuit of
the pastry.
The shop’s enormous, fluorescent yellow sign, which dwarfs the shop, can be seen
a quarter mile away anywhere on Route 66. Also on the sign, a cartoon drawing of a
pudgy, Caucasian man with a bow tie, coffee mug with the name “Jim,” written on it,
and of course, a doughnut, in his hand. The “everyday man” in the sign smiles, content
with his simple, all-American pastry from The Donut Man. The Donut Man sign acts as
more than just a bright jumble of yellow letters; it’s a beacon of cheap, sugary
contentment.
***
It’s around 9:15 pm on a Saturday night in the middle of strawberry doughnut
season and the scent of bubbling cooking oil snakes along the line at The Donut Man. As

5. the customers wait in line, they bond over personal anecdotes about the shop and
discuss their desires for the various fried snacks visible in the windows.
As an employee dips long, slender doughnuts into a vat of maple glaze, a family of
four stares in awe through the shop window.
“Can I just lie in that?” the mother says as she gawks at the caramel-colored glaze.
Customers within earshot laugh and nod.
“So what are they cooking now?” a gentleman asks his friend as he walks up to
the daunting line on the busy Saturday night.
His friend replies, “What aren’t they cooking?”
***
The small shop sits atop a tiny hill of asphalt and cement and a mocha-colored
railing lining the front of the shop. On one side of the restaurant is an independent
insurance agency. To the other side of The Donut Man is a cramped gym.
“Who puts a doughnut shop next to a gym?” one teenage girl asks her friend on
their way back to their car.
Her friend laughs and answers, “It’s strategy.”
It’s difficult to call The Donut Man a “shop.” With no entrance for customers and
nothing more than two benches and the curb to sit on outside, the shop is more of a
stand.
Despite the tiny stand’s drab appearance and lack of seating, it is well known not
only throughout the greater Los Angeles area but also throughout California, and it even
has some national following. Somehow, The Donut Man seems to have distilled the
essence of “doughnut shop” as a small but crucial bit of the national identity. Celebrities
like Elvis Presley and Roy Rogers frequented the shop when it first opened up. The
Donut Man has been written about in the Los Angeles Times, Huffington Post, LA
Weekly, LA Times Weekly, and has been featured by Huell Howser on PBS for his show,
Visiting…With Huell Howser. The Food Network recently filmed at The Donut Man for
an episode of “The Next Food Network Star” that will air in the summer of 2013.
The store has over 1,100 followers on Twitter, over 5,000 “check-ins” on Four
Square, and over 20,000 “likes” on Facebook. The shop advertizes on their social
networking sites with alluring photos of their luscious doughnuts. No photo editing
necessary.
After posting a picture of their specialty doughnut, the tiger tail, a 9-inch raised,
twisted doughnut with a chocolate swirl spiraling down the center, on Facebook, The
Donut Man received dozens of comments and even some questions.
“Will you guys deliver to Dallas?” a desperate former customer asks. “I’ll pay for
the shipping!!”
The reply was simply, “No. We don’t deliver our doughnuts. They won’t be fresh.”
Celebrity and Food Network fame aside, college students make up the majority of
clientele for The Donut Man. Some schools even get involved with the well-known
doughnut hut. Azusa Pacific University, 2 miles down the street, takes their students to
the doughnut stand each year after freshman orientation. Harvey Mudd College in
Claremont has an annual 9.6-mile unicycle ride in the spring known as “The Foster’s
Run” to The Donut Man. Nakano congratulates every unicyclist who completes the full
ride with a free strawberry doughnut. This tradition has been going on since the 1972,
when the unicycle troop began at the private college and when The Donut Man first
opened up. Back then, the shop was a part of the Foster’s Donuts chain. It was Miyoko,

6. Nakano’s wife, who introduced the idea of taking over the doughnut shop. In 1985, the
Nakanos bought the Foster’s location and renamed it. When a little girl noticed Nakano
at another restaurant, she pointed and declared him “the doughnut man.” He decided to
keep the name and change the spelling.
***
Like many other origin stories, the story of the creation of the doughnut is
shrouded in mystery. The inventors of the pastry and the hollow centers that make them
famous are still in debate. However, Dutch settler, Captain Hanson Gregory, is typically
given credit for adding the hole in the center of a doughnut in 1847. One version
mentions how Gregory was annoyed with the traditional oliekoek, meaning “oil cake,”
which was typically never cooked all the way through. At an attempt to remedy this
problem, Gregory punctured the center of the dough with a tin pepper can from his ship,
fried them with their centers missing, and then taught his mother to do the same.
Another version tells how, while sailing, a thunderstorm struck. Thinking fast, Gregory
impaled the oliekoek onto one of the spokes of the wheel to free up his hands. He
decided he enjoyed the pastry better that way, and so it remained. Some stories claim
Gregory invented the circular centers when he was only 16 years old. Gregory is also
accredited for inspiring the name change from oliekoek to “doughnut,” because he
allegedly asked his mother to add various nuts to his pastry, quite literally making it
dough with nuts. However, anthropologist Paul Mullins, author of Glazed America: A
History of the Doughnut, found that an English cookbook had a recipe for the oily,
artery-clogging, dessert as early as 1803.
There may be some confusion about where the doughnut began but there is no
question that America has taken the doughnut into its bosom of its cuisine. According to
Mullins’ book, our relationship with doughnuts began in 1917 during the First World
War. After three years of fighting and bloodshed, the troops were due for an American
pick-me-up. As part of the “war effort,” The Salvation Army sent eleven young women to
the American First Division in Europe in hopes of supporting their fellow Americans.
Some aimed to bake pie but with the limited resources on hand, their attempts failed.
Flour, sugar, and baking powder made up the majority of supplies available for the girls
to work with. Helen Purviance, one of the Salvation Army women, had the idea to
prepare simple dough to fry.
As noted by the New York Times article “Fried First Doughnuts for Soldiers
Overseas” from 1949, Purviance said, “I was literally on my knees when those first
doughnuts were fried, seven at a time, in a small frying pan. There was also a prayer in
my heart that somehow this home touch would do more for those who ate the
doughnuts than satisfy a physical hunger.”
The response was just what Purviance hoped for and the first batch didn’t even
have time to cool before soldiers snatched them up. Because of the aptly named
“Doughnut Girls,” doughnuts became a staple treat in the trenches and even in the army
today. They remind the troops of their mothers, wives, and, most importantly, home.
It wasn’t until post World War II, however, that the doughnut really boomed.
America had changed after the war and so had its diet. The new “commuter culture” had
Americans across the nation needing a quick bite on their way to and from work.
According to Mullins’ Glazed America, foods like hamburgers, fried chicken, and of
course, doughnuts were popping up everywhere to adhere tothe drivers’ demand.

7. While doughnuts remain an American classic, there is no shortage of countries
around the world that share in the simple act of frying dough. In Germany, they are
known for their Berliner, which has jelly in one pocket of the doughnut and is coated
with powered sugar. Japan, similar to Germany’s Berliner, fills their an-doughnut with
red bean paste instead. India has the savory vada made from potato, lentil, and dal
flours that is served with vegetables and sometimes, plain yogurt. They also have a
dessert more similar to the old-fashioned American doughnut called badushaihi and is
usually dipped in sugar and a variety of syrups. Christians in Lebanon drizzle rose water
simple syrup over fried balls of dough for The Epiphany of the Lord. In Tunisia, orange
juice, vanilla, and sesame seeds are used to flavor their oleaginous doughy delights.
Israel also has a jelly doughnut called the sufganiyah and is a traditional dessert served
on Hanukkah. At The Donut Man, they are known as donuts, an abbreviated spelling
and homey moniker for the “every man” snack.
The world eats doughnuts, America devours them, and at The Donut Man all that
stands between a man and his doughnut is glass window and cheap price tag.
One afternoon a father orders a box of doughnuts from The Donut Man with his
eight-year-old son. He selects a variety of raised doughnuts with chocolate and maple
glaze and a few sprinkled cake doughnuts and reaches just under a full dozen. The total
for his purchase is $5.80.
“That’s it? $5.80?” the young boy says. “This place is a sweet deal!”
Doughnuts from The Donut Man really are “a sweet deal.” For $0.90-$0.95, any
patron can get a round, raised or cake doughnut of any flavor. Any crème or jelly-filled
doughnut is only $1.50 and specialty doughnuts like tiger tails, a 9-inch twisted, raise
doughnut with a chocolate swirl spiraling down the center and coated with regular glaze,
is an extra dime at $1.60. The most expensive treats on the menu are the fruit
doughnuts. When in season, a patiently waiting customer is only $3.25 away from the
seasonal snack. The Donut Man offers ten percent discounts to any patron purchasing a
dozen or for any veteran.
The only other doughnut shop that contends with The Donut Man in Glendora is
the Godfather of doughnuts itself, Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. Founded by Vernon
Rudolph, Krispy Kreme Doughnuts has provided America with their famous plain and
chocolate glazed doughnuts since 1937. The popular retro-style doughnut chain has
hundreds of stores across both the United States and Canada. Out of the 10 billion
doughnuts sold per year in America, Krispy Kreme is responsible for about 1.8 billion of
that figure. As tempting their simple traditional doughnuts are, Krispy Kreme is only
mentioned with a sour face at The Donut Man. Customers shake their heads and defend
The Donut Man as if they had made the product themselves.
“I despise Krispy Kreme,” says Jordan de la Torre, a late-night customer visiting
The Donut Man from San Juan Capistrano. “I think they’re overly sweet. Donut Man
doughnuts are the only ones worth eating.”
Another out-of-town visitor from South Pasadena said how Krispy Kreme and
The Donut Man are the only doughnut shops where she would buy a whole dozen
doughnuts. When asked which she preferred she said, “Oh, Donut Man for sure.”
But The Donut Man isn’t perfect; no place is. Every once in a while, the shop
receives a crowd different from their morning soccer moms and coworkers buying box
upon box for their offices. Drugs are never far from any city and being open the hours
that they are, The Donut Man is the only place for people under the influence of drugs or

8. alcohol to grab a late night snack or to simply loiter. And with The Donut Man acting as
the only 24-hour joint in town, all walks of life have walked up to the tiny window.
Morgan MacDonell, 19-year-old employee of The Donut Man, often works the
day shifts but says, although he sees fewer stoned college students or homeless people,
he still encounters shady people from time to time.
“I was working the morning shift at like six in the morning,” he said, “and I guess
he [a customer] had been there since like two in the morning and he was just really,
really high.” The man had dark brown curly hair sticking out of his sport cap, fake gold-
rimmed sunglasses, a blue and white stripped polo that was one size too big, dark blue
Dickey’s pants, and a pair of classic Adidas shoes. He appeared to be Middle Eastern
and tanned from vagabonding around in the southern California sun.
MacDonell described how the jelly-legged man had, “a general grime about him.”
His clothes and skin, caked with layers of dirt and soot, loosely hung onto his body.
When the man spoke, MacDonell saw a dingy, eroding smile that he could only describe
as, “meth teeth.” The wanderer had no cash and was hanging around the ATM tothe
right of the shop. He had gotten his Visa gift card stuck in the card slot and he did
nothing but stand around it in confusion.
During his shift, MacDonell noticed the homeless man dig a Styrofoam coffee cup
out of the grey trashcan to the right of the window. Since the store offers free refills for
drinks, MacDonell filled the dirty, used cup with fresh coffee. The man wandered
around the stall’s exterior for a bit and then left, but only for a short while.
“He went to the liquor store and then came back and then he set his [crack] pipe
down at the window,” MacDonell said. The drifter, careless of his pipe on the counter,
asked which was the cheapest doughnut. Not having enough money or uninterested in
the selection, the homeless man chose not to buy a doughnut. Six hours later,
MacDonell finished his shift and the man was still there.
***
What bring customers back to The Donut Man are not only their “God-like”
doughnuts but also their service provided by Nakano and his staff. Tom Reinberger, a
regular at the shop for decades, appreciates Nakano’s effort to greet him by name every
time he goes to buy a coffee.
Adding to his praise of Nakano and his restaurant, Reinberger says, “And
[Nakano] makes a heck of a doughnut too.”
Now in his mid-seventies, Nakano still dons an apron from time to time and takes
orders for customers. One morning, a portly, white-haired man sits on one of the dark
brown benches outside The Donut Man. He forks through a colossal strawberry
doughnut, taking his time to revel in the blend of syrupy berries and soft dough. He
wipes away leftover specs of sugar from the corners of his mouth, stands up, and goes
back to the windows at the face of the shop.
“May I help you?” Nakano asks.
“Oh,” the man says, “I’m thinking about having another doughnut. Is that a
maple cake doughnut?”
“Yup,” Nakano replies. “Ninety cents.”
Smiling, the man makes his second purchase. Without peaking into the bag too
soon, the man takes his bag and walks back to his grey sedan and squeezes into the
driver’s seat. As he pulls out of The Donut Man parking lot, the man grabs his new

9. doughnut out of the paper bag, takes a bite of well-crafted American comfort, and drives
away from the little shop with the ever-growing line of customers.
———————————————————————————————————————
Commentary:
Amy,
I've attached two stories and hilighted in red for the parts that I thought needed fact
checking since I couldn't confirm its accuracy through online resources. The first one is
about a Falafel restaurant located in Little Armenia and the author makes a lot of
historical references that I'm not sure if are completely politically correct. The second
story is about a Donut shop located in Glendora and the facts I weren't sure about were
mostly statistics.
Cordially,
Atsuna Matsui
———————————————————————————————————————
hi there,
quick thought on the donut stuff.... I would just call Cleo and
ask if she has a specific link on the stats or if she can tell you how to
find them to confirm them…
Best, Amy
———————————————————————————————————————
Jennifer and Norman,
So these are Norman's designated tasks:
- Go through the author's notes
- Identify who the subjects are and who are named in this story. Get their consent.
I've just contacted Amy and she said that she would just call Cleo and ask if she has a
specific link on the stats or if she can tell you how to find them to confirm them. Can you
do this part Jennifer since you have his contact information? I've already noted with red
font for parts of the document that I couldn't confirm its accuracy through online
resources. In addition, to running through all the facts in this story, I've also polished
the punctuations and grammar for my draft so its good to go for you Jennifer. And yes,
we've decided that Jennifer would be the one to ask Cleo to see if they're okay with
publishing it.