Substantive editing sample 50:
Placement of context

In this memoir, besides routine style issues (such as punctuation and dictionary-recommended spelling) and a quick lookup of the name of a firm or a place, I proposed revisions to place the context of a reference at the first instance, where it clearly belonged.
Note: The late author of this piece was not a native English speaker. The client was a daughter of the author, who wanted the author’s Teutonic way of expressing himself preserved as much as possible.

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This sample is presented here with the client’s permission.

Original
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A few months passed and then in October Harza, the company I had worked for until retirement, asked me to go for a few weeks to Pakistan to help prepare a proposal for the design of a hydro project, then called Ghazi-Gariala, later renamed Ghazi-Barotha. In October I went to Lahore to work on the proposal with some engineers from our British and our Pakistani associates.

When I checked into the hotel in Lahore, formerly an Intercontinental hotel, now called Pearl Continental, and a young porter carried my suitcase up to the room, he suddenly said “sahib, last time Room 626.” I then remembered that three years earlier I had indeed stayed for two months in Room 626, but how could the porter remember such a detail after such a long time?

I enjoyed being back in Pakistan, but my stay would be short because our Pakistani associates suggested that we should finish the job in London in the offices of Binnies, our British associates. The British agreed and we all flew to London to continue our work in Redhill, a suburb in the south of the city. The first night we stayed in a very prestigious hotel, in a 19th century building, built by an eccentric man in the style of an abbey. The elevator was a museum piece and in the corridor leading to my room, there were suddenly a few steps up and then a few steps down. Dinner was quite formal, but there were few choices and it took hours. The worst was that the hotel was located so far from the Redhill train station and the Binnie office that one had to call a taxi to get there. Thus, the next day we moved to a somewhat simpler hotel, a few steps away from the train station and within walking distance from the office and several restaurants.

On November 9 I had returned from the office at about 6 PM and was getting ready for dinner in the restaurant of the hotel with Mr. Scoville from Harza and our two Pakistani associates. I had turned the television on and while still busy in the bathroom I heard that the Berlin Wall had fallen. I was stunned that the 28-year long nightmare of the wall was now over and that the forty-four years of communism in east Germany were probably coming to an end. I quickly dressed and went down to the restaurant where I told the waiter to bring a bottle of champagne for Mr. Scoville and myself and also a bottle of non-alcoholic “champagne” for our two Pakistani non-drinkers. When we were all four at the table I proposed a toast celebrating the fall of the wall. After dinner I called my brother Manfred in east Berlin and invited him and his family to visit us in Naperville in the next summer, now that they would have the freedom to travel wherever they wanted to go.

The next year Manfred’s younger son Tino, short for Adrian Constantin, who was then a medical student, arrived some three weeks before his parents. They followed on July 3, just in time to experience the 4th of July parade in Wheaton. We made several sightseeing trips to Chicago with them. I believe what impressed them most was a show at the Goodman Theater, the story of Oedipus played by black actors and singers with wonderful gospel and blues music. Gisela and I then took all three on a trip south, stopping first in the Great Smoky Mountains, visiting our friends, the Henriksens, in South Carolina, staying a few days at Disneyworld, and then going to Key West. There we were disappointed that we couldn’t get rooms at the beautiful hotel where we had stayed in 1982. It was also disappointing to see how much the coral reefs had deteriorated during those eight years.

After some restful days in Miami Beach we headed back north. On the last evening of our trip while driving through Indiana we were looking for a restaurant. When I pulled into a large truck-stop, my brother and his wife had somewhat apprehensive looks on their faces, but once inside they realized that it was really a very nice and clean place, with good service and excellent food. There was a special section for the truckers, with a phone and a music box at each table and there were signs offering a 16-ounce steak for $5.95 with an $80 fillup.

Shortly after my brother and his family left I was asked by Harza to work for a few weeks in Lahore on the diversion scheme for the Ghazi-Gariala project, a project later renamed Ghazi-Barotha when the powerhouse was shifted from the vicinity of Gariala to a point near Barotha. I returned to Chicago just in time for the wedding of Beatrice and John on October 27th. About a year later John was transferred to Evergreen’s St. Louis office and they found a house and moved to Ballwin, Missouri, a suburb southwest of the city. Over the next several years Gisela and I made many trips there, a distance of 300 miles from house to house which took us about five hours, including a refueling or rest stop.

Markup
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A few months passed and passed, and then in October Harza, the company I had worked for until retirement, asked me to go for a few weeks to Pakistan to help prepare a proposal for the design of a hydro project, then called Ghazi-Gariala, later renamed Ghazi-Gariala but later renamed Ghazi-Barotha when the powerhouse was shifted from the vicinity of Gariala to a point near Barotha. [Insertion of the preceding fifteen-word “when” clause okay? This is redundantly stated later, but it belongs here at the first instance in the manuscript.] In October [The preceding two words are redundant with the paragraph’s opening.] I went to Lahore to work on the proposal with some engineers from our British and our Pakistani associates.

When I checked into the hotel in Lahore, formerly Lahore—formerly an Intercontinental hotel Hotel, now called Pearl Continental, and Continental—and a young porter carried my suitcase up to the room, he suddenly said “sahib said, “Sahib, last time Room 626 Six Twenty-Six.” I then remembered that three years earlier I had indeed stayed for two months in Room 626, but how could the porter remember such a detail after such a long time?

I enjoyed being back in Pakistan, but my stay would be short because our Pakistani associates suggested that we should finish the job in London in the offices of Binnies Binnie, our British associates. The British agreed and agreed, and we all flew to London to continue our work in Redhill, a suburb in the south of the city. The first night we stayed in a very prestigious hotel, in a 19th century building, built nineteenth-century building built by an eccentric man in the style of an abbey. The elevator was a museum piece and piece, and in the corridor leading to my room, there were suddenly a few steps up and then a few steps down. Dinner was quite formal, but there were few choices and it took hours. The worst was that the hotel was located so far from the Redhill train station and the Binnie office that one had to call a taxi to get there. Thus, the next day we day, we moved to a somewhat simpler hotel, a few steps away from the train station and within walking distance from the office and several restaurants.

On November 9 I had returned from the office at about 6 PM six p.m. and was getting ready for dinner in the restaurant of the hotel with Mr. Scoville from Harza and our two Pakistani associates. I had turned the television on and on, and while still busy in the bathroom I bathroom, I heard that the Berlin Wall had fallen. I was stunned that the 28-year long twenty-eight-year-long nightmare of the wall Wall was now over and that the forty-four years of communism in east East Germany were probably coming to an end. I quickly dressed and went down to the restaurant where restaurant, where I told the waiter to bring a bottle of champagne for Mr. Scoville and myself and also a bottle of non-alcoholic nonalcoholic “champagne” for our two Pakistani non-drinkers nondrinkers. When we were all four at the table I table, I proposed a toast celebrating toast, celebrating the fall of the wall Wall. After dinner I called my brother Manfred in east East Berlin and invited him and his family to visit us in Naperville in the during the next summer, now that they would have the freedom to travel wherever they wanted to go.

The next year Manfred’s younger son Tino son, Tino, short for Adrian Constantin, who was then a medical student, arrived some three weeks before his parents. They followed on July 3, just in time to experience the 4th of Fourth of July parade in Wheaton. We made several sightseeing trips to Chicago with them. I believe what impressed them most was a show at the Goodman Theater Goodman Theatre, the story of Oedipus played by black actors and singers with wonderful gospel and blues music. Gisela and I then took all three on a trip south, stopping first in the Great Smoky Mountains, visiting Mountains; visiting our friends, the Henriksens, in South Carolina, staying Carolina; staying a few days at Disneyworld, and Disney World; and then going to Key West. There we were disappointed that we couldn’t get rooms at the beautiful hotel where we had stayed in 1982. It was also disappointing to see how much the coral reefs had deteriorated during those eight years.

After some restful days in Miami Beach we Beach, we headed back north. On the last evening of our trip while trip, while driving through Indiana we Indiana, we were looking for a restaurant. When I pulled into a large truck-stop truck stop, my brother and his wife had somewhat apprehensive looks on their faces, but once inside they realized that it was really a very nice and clean place, with good service and excellent food. There was a special section for the truckers, with a phone and a music box at each table and table, and there were signs offering a 16-ounce sixteen-ounce steak for $5.95 with an $80 fillup fill-up.

Shortly after my brother and his family left I left, I was asked by Harza to work for a few weeks in Lahore on the diversion scheme for the Ghazi-Gariala project, a project later renamed Ghazi-Barotha when the powerhouse was shifted from the vicinity of Gariala to a point near Barotha project. [I deleted the phrase because it was redundant (the information is more suitable earlier in the chapter)] I returned to Chicago just in time for the wedding of Beatrice and John on October 27th October 27. About a year later John was transferred to Evergreen’s Evergreen Bank Group’s St. Louis office and office, and they found a house and moved to Ballwin, Missouri, a suburb southwest of the city. Over the next several years Gisela years, Gisela and I made many trips there, a distance of 300 three hundred miles from house to house which house, which took us about five hours, including a refueling or rest stop.

Result
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A few months passed, and then in October Harza, the company I had worked for until retirement, asked me to go for a few weeks to Pakistan to help prepare a proposal for the design of a hydro project, then called Ghazi-Gariala but later renamed Ghazi-Barotha when the powerhouse was shifted from the vicinity of Gariala to a point near Barotha. I went to Lahore to work on the proposal with some engineers from our British and our Pakistani associates.

When I checked into the hotel in Lahore—formerly an Intercontinental Hotel, now called Pearl Continental—and a young porter carried my suitcase up to the room, he suddenly said, “Sahib, last time Room Six Twenty-Six.” I then remembered that three years earlier I had indeed stayed for two months in Room 626, but how could the porter remember such a detail after such a long time?

I enjoyed being back in Pakistan, but my stay would be short because our Pakistani associates suggested that we should finish the job in London in the offices of Binnie, our British associates. The British agreed, and we all flew to London to continue our work in Redhill, a suburb in the south of the city. The first night we stayed in a very prestigious hotel, in a nineteenth-century building built by an eccentric man in the style of an abbey. The elevator was a museum piece, and in the corridor leading to my room, there were suddenly a few steps up and then a few steps down. Dinner was quite formal, but there were few choices and it took hours. The worst was that the hotel was located so far from the Redhill train station and the Binnie office that one had to call a taxi to get there. Thus, the next day, we moved to a somewhat simpler hotel, a few steps away from the train station and within walking distance from the office and several restaurants.

On November 9 I had returned from the office at about six p.m. and was getting ready for dinner in the restaurant of the hotel with Mr. Scoville from Harza and our two Pakistani associates. I had turned the television on, and while still busy in the bathroom, I heard that the Berlin Wall had fallen. I was stunned that the twenty-eight-year-long nightmare of the Wall was now over and that the forty-four years of communism in East Germany were probably coming to an end. I quickly dressed and went down to the restaurant, where I told the waiter to bring a bottle of champagne for Mr. Scoville and myself and also a bottle of nonalcoholic “champagne” for our two Pakistani nondrinkers. When we were all four at the table, I proposed a toast, celebrating the fall of the Wall. After dinner I called my brother Manfred in East Berlin and invited him and his family to visit us in Naperville during the next summer, now that they would have the freedom to travel wherever they wanted to go.

The next year Manfred’s younger son, Tino, short for Adrian Constantin, who was then a medical student, arrived some three weeks before his parents. They followed on July 3, just in time to experience the Fourth of July parade in Wheaton. We made several sightseeing trips to Chicago with them. I believe what impressed them most was a show at the Goodman Theatre, the story of Oedipus played by black actors and singers with wonderful gospel and blues music. Gisela and I then took all three on a trip south, stopping first in the Great Smoky Mountains; visiting our friends, the Henriksens, in South Carolina; staying a few days at Disney World; and then going to Key West. There we were disappointed that we couldn’t get rooms at the beautiful hotel where we had stayed in 1982. It was also disappointing to see how much the coral reefs had deteriorated during those eight years.

After some restful days in Miami Beach, we headed back north. On the last evening of our trip, while driving through Indiana, we were looking for a restaurant. When I pulled into a large truck stop, my brother and his wife had somewhat apprehensive looks on their faces, but once inside they realized that it was really a very nice and clean place, with good service and excellent food. There was a special section for the truckers, with a phone and a music box at each table, and there were signs offering a sixteen-ounce steak for $5.95 with an $80 fill-up.

Shortly after my brother and his family left, I was asked by Harza to work for a few weeks in Lahore on the diversion scheme for the Ghazi-Gariala project. I returned to Chicago just in time for the wedding of Beatrice and John on October 27. About a year later John was transferred to Evergreen Bank Group’s St. Louis office, and they found a house and moved to Ballwin, Missouri, a suburb southwest of the city. Over the next several years, Gisela and I made many trips there, a distance of three hundred miles from house to house, which took us about five hours, including a refueling or rest stop.

 

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