John Reinan -- A Reporter Who is Never off His Trolley.

 If you happen to be riding the retro Lake Harriet Trolley some beamish day, you may notice your driver has that skulking, dyspeptic look that newspaper journalists develop after 20 years of peeking through keyholes and eating too many White Castle sliders in haste.

Your driver, in fact, is that distinguished member of the Fourth Estate, John Bestertester Reinan. In his spare time he enjoys driving the trolley around scenic Lake Harriet -- clanging the bell and collecting wooden nickels. 

Reinan comes from a long line of nickel-hoppers. His maternal great-grandfather, Oscar Lumbago Orca, had a mania for collecting Buffalo nickels. His hoard grew so large that it fell through the floor of his home in Embarrass, Minnesota, destroying several prime barrels of applejack. 

Mr. Reinan was born in Fergus Falls, Minnesota, in 1955, and has never looked back. His father worked as a highbinder for Ottertail Power Company for fifty years -- before being permanently sidelined by static electricity. His mother was a homemaker and Edna May Oliver look-alike, who supplemented the family budget by appearing at movie halls throughout the area. Young John helped out by selling bibs to theater patrons who asked for too much butter on their popcorn.

Mr. Reinan excelled in penmanship and woolgathering in high school, and thus won a literary scholarship to Saint Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota. While just a sophomore he was awarded a lifetime supply of Green Stamps for his constantly chanting "Fram! Fram! Krismenn, Krossmen" until all his teeth fell out.

After college Mr. Reinan went to work for the Nome Nugget in Alaska as an inkwell cleaner. He was soon promoted to dust mop wrangler. Having angered the Chilblain Cartel with a scorching expose on their manufacture of counterfeit ChapStick, Mr. Reinan was forced to flee the state and find refuge in Florida, working at the Longboat Key Observer. But the call of the eel pout and a long standing addiction to lefse finally drove the young reporter to relocate in Minnesota, where he has successfully parlayed a career as reporter for the Star Tribune into an urban legend. 

Many strange tales are told of his work in bringing to light what really happened in Nye's Polonaise Room on the night of January 15th, 1993. The wig he wore during his undercover stint is on display at the Pavek Museum.

An avid angler, Mr. Reinan is at home on any body of water -- frequently threading his way through the bayous of Lake Minnetonka in search of the elusive lutefisk. 

His advice to nascent journalists just beginning their ink-stained pilgrimage is:

"Keep your nose clean and your thoughts pure so you'll die of boredom before senility sets in."