In late 1988, I wrote to Gil Thelen, then-editor of The Sun News, and offered my services as a columnist.

It was a brazen move. I had done some writing, as a reporter and editorial writer at The Charlotte (N.C.) Observer. But I had spent most of my career as a midlevel news editor at The Milwaukee Journal.

Thelen knew my credentials and invited me in for a talk. The paper, he said, was too small for a full-time columnist, but the sports section had an opening and could use some experience. Would I be interested?

I hesitated, but not for long. My wife and I had opened a bookstore and things were getting tight. I needed a job and agreed to give it at least two years.

So off to sports I went, and on March 6, 1989, I wrote my first column, wondering how in the heck I ended up in sports, the toy department of any newspaper.

"Is this a fall from grace?" I asked. "Are the gods angry? Or just crazy?"

The column was called "Monday, Monday," and it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship with readers of The Sun News.

It began quickly when I complained about the cost of golf on the Grand Strand.

I suggested that more courses ought to have local rates for those who support them during the lean months. Retirees and service-industry employees are not exactly rich, I noted.

The column attracted kudos from many readers, but not all. Someone high in the golf industry responded with a letter to the editor. The golf courses, he said, would be happy to offer local rates when The Sun News offers local rates.

A quick trip to our circulation director told me that subscribers (locals, in this context) were paying about a nickel a copy. People who bought papers out of the rack (non-locals, in this context) were paying, at the time, 25 cents.

Not a bad local rate, I noted in a followup column.

A couple of years later, while I was playing golf with a woman who had no idea who I was, she mentioned that a lot of golf courses started offering local rates "after a guy at the newspaper got after them." Wow, I said. Power of the press.

When Hurricane Hugo swept through Sept. 21, 1989, I was asked to write a daily column on the Metro page in an effort to buoy spirits after the devastation.

Shortly thereafter, I dropped "Monday, Monday" and began a weekly Metro column called "The Sunday Column." It alternated with other columnists, but it continued to give me a voice as I moved from sports editor to business editor to managing editor.

The column grew in popularity and, in 1996, then-editor Sue Deans named me the paper's first full-time columnist. My first assignment: The 1996 Olympic Games.

I spent three weeks in Atlanta, writing a daily "Olympic Postcard" about everything from baseball to badminton to a bombing.

One highlight came with an "interview" I had with 16-year-old Chelsea Clinton at the beach volleyball venue.

She and an entourage happened to be standing next to me at a side court, and I decided to get a quote for my Olympic Postcard.

"So, Chelsea, will you be taking up beach volleyball?" I asked.

"Well, I'm taking ballet right now," she said before she was whisked away by a Secret Service man and a White House aide.

But I had my interview. I guess.

I played some golf with the Gatlin Brothers when they had a theater here. I think they liked my column for its irreverence.

One day I got a call asking if I would care to accompany Steve and Rudy Gatlin, real estate developer Don Leonard and former Vice President Dan Quayle on a round of golf at the Dunes Golf & Beach Club.

Absolutely, I said.

The former vice president and I stand at opposite ends of the political spectrum, but I took an instant liking to him on the first hole.

The Gatlins suggested they all roll the ball in the fairway (illegally improving the lie, for you non-golfers).

Quayle, a low-handicapper who played competitive golf in college, said no way would they cheat.

"We're not playing Clinton golf," he told them, a reference to the former president's legendary mulligans.

When I became a columnist, an old friend, Kays Gary, a Charlotte Observer columnist who died a few years ago, tried to warn me away from writing about politics. "Whenever I wrote about it, I felt kind of dirty," he said.

I didn't listen, although I never wrote about politics as much as some would have you believe.

One time a woman came up to me during a golf tournament. She said she would cheer for me, except she disagrees with almost everything I write.

I told her there was no way she could disagree with most of my columns, but she insisted.

I asked her which ones and she couldn't come up with any. So I helped.

"I'm doing some marathons and I've been writing about kids with leukemia. You're not pro-leukemia are you?"

"No, no."

"I've written a lot about video poker. I'm pretty much against it. Are you for video poker?"

"No, I hate those places, too."

I mentioned the Confederate flag and two or three others that I could think of. She had no problem with any of them.

Finally, I said:

"We're having a lot of trouble. Let me help you. One word: Clinton."

"Oh," she said, "I hate all those Clinton columns."

Yes, I guess I had mentioned President Clinton once or twice over the years, not much more.

Some letter writers believe I hate all Republicans, but I am not lying when I say some of my best friends are Republicans. I've had friendly relations with Republican and Democratic governors - David Beasley, Jim Hodges and Mark Sanford - each of whom knew me from the column.

Sanford, in fact, has sent me several friendly notes. Our relationship goes back to the very day, in 1993, that he announced he was running for Congress.

One time, when I criticized his vote against an assault-weapons ban, he called to tell me I was the second person that morning to criticize him. The first was his wife.

So now I'm entering a new plateau in life. By coincidence, my wife Elaine, a pharmacist, is also an early retiree this weekend after 11 years at Kroger.

But she's not as eager to leave the work force: She'll be back at work March 7 at a Myrtle Beach Eckerd's store.

As for me, I'll be hanging around, playing some golf, doing some housework and, after a couple of months, writing a weekly column for The Sun News.

Till then, take care, y'all.

Many readers of The Sun News have been faithful followers of Bob Bestler's columns. We invite you to share your memories about Bob and his work as part of a celebration of his 37-year career. Please e-mail your thoughts to sneditors@thesunnews.com or mail them to The Sun News, Attn: Bob memories, P.O. Box 406, Myrtle Beach, SC 29578. We will publish a selection of them in a future Sunday edition.