NEWS WRITING
THE GATHERING, HANDLING
AND WRITING OF NEWS STORIES

NEWS WRITING
THE GATHERING, HANDLING
AND WRITING OF NEWS STORIES

D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS
BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO

Copyright, 1917,
By D. C. Heath & Co.

TO
THOMAS B. REID
DEAN OF THE WISCONSIN NEWSPAPER MEN

PREFACE

The first week of a reporter's work is generally the most nerve-racking of his journalistic experience. Unacquainted with his associates, ignorant of his duties, embarrassed because of his ignorance, he wastes more time in useless effort, dissipates more energy in worry, and grows more despondent over his work and his career than during any month of his later years. Yet most of his depression would be unnecessary if he knew his duties.

To acquaint the prospective reporter with these duties and their proper performance is the purpose of this volume, which has been written as a practical guide for beginners in news writing. Its dominating purpose is practicalness. If it fails in this, its main purpose will be lost.

Because of this practical aim the attempt has been made to approach the work of the reporter as he will meet it on beginning his first morning's duties in the news office. After an introductory division explaining the organization of a newspaper and acquainting the beginner with his fellows and superiors in the editorial rooms, the book opens with an exposition of news. It then takes up sources of news, methods of getting stories, and the preparation of copy for the city desk.

In discussing the writing of the story, it has seemed necessary to devote much attention to the lead, experience showing that the point of greatest difficulty in handling a story lies in the choice of a proper and effectively worded lead. Likewise, it has been necessary to discuss the sentence at great length and to touch the paragraph only lightly, because the one is so much a matter of individual judgment, the other subject to such definite laws,—laws of which, however, most cub reporters are grossly ignorant. In some classes in news writing the instructor will find it possible and advisable to pass hastily over the chapter on The Sentence, but as a rule he will find a careful study of it profitable. In Part III, that dealing with types of stories, emphasis has been laid on interview, crime, and sports stories, because it is these that the cub reporter must be most familiar with on taking up his work in the newspaper office. For the same practical reasons the volume omits editorial and copy reading, and makes no attempt to teach the beginner to be a dramatic critic or a city editor. It aims to give him only those details and that instruction which shall make him a competent, reliable reporter for the city editor who first employs his services.

The book is written also with the belief, based on practical experience, that news writing as a craft can be taught. It is not contended that schools can produce star reporters. The newspaper office is the only place where they can be developed. But it is maintained that the college can send to the city room men and women who have been guided beyond the discouraging defeats of mere cub reporting, just as schools of law, medicine, and commerce can graduate lawyers, doctors, and business men who know the rudiments of their professions. And this contention is based on experience. During the last four years the studies here offered have been followed closely in the class room, from which students have been graduated who are now holding positions of first rank on leading American dailies. Some too, though not all, had had no previous experience in newspaper work.

All the illustrations and exercises except two are taken from published news articles, most of the stories being unchanged. In some, however, fictitious names and addresses, for obvious reasons, have been substituted.

For aid in the preparation of this volume my thanks are due to Mr. C. O. Skinrood of The Milwaukee Journal, Mr. Warren B. Bullock of The Milwaukee Sentinel, and Mr. Paul F. Hunter of The Sheboygan Press, who have made numerous criticisms upon the book during its different stages. Their suggestions have been invaluable. For permission to reprint stories from their columns my thanks also are due to the Appleton Post, Atlanta Constitution, Boston Transcript, Chicago American, Chicago Herald, Chicago Tribune, Des Moines Register, Indianapolis News, Kansas City Star, Los Angeles Times, Milwaukee Journal, Milwaukee Sentinel, Minneapolis Tribune, New York Herald, New York Sun, New York Times, New York Tribune, New York World, Omaha News, Philadelphia Public Ledger, and the Washington Post.

M. L. S

Appleton, Wisconsin

March 12, 1917

CONTENTS

PART I
ORGANIZATION OF THE PAPER

NEWS WRITING
ORGANIZATION OF THE PAPER

I. INTRODUCTION

1. The City Room.—The city room is the place where a reporter presents himself for work the first day. It is impossible to give an exact description of this room, because no two editorial offices are ever alike. If the reporter has allied himself with a country weekly, he may find the city room and the business office in one, with the owner of the paper and himself as the sole dependence for village news. If he has obtained work on a small daily, he may find a diminutive office, perhaps twelve by fifteen feet, with the city editor the only other reporter. If he has been employed by a metropolitan journal, he will probably find one large room and several smaller adjoining offices, and an editorial force of twenty to thirty or forty helpers, depending upon the size of the paper.

2. Metropolitan Papers.—The metropolitan paper, of course, is the most complex in organization, and is therefore the one for a beginner to examine. The chances are two to one that the cub will have to begin on a so-called country daily, but if he knows the organization of a large paper, he will experience little trouble in learning the less complicated system of a small one. For this reason the reader is given in Part I an explanation of the organization of a representative metropolitan newspaper.

3. All Papers Different.—The reader is cautioned, however, against taking this exposition as an explanation of anything more than a typical newspaper. The details of organization of various papers will be found to differ somewhat. The number of editors and their precise duties will vary. One journal will be a morning, another an afternoon, paper; a third will be a twenty-four-hour daily, employing a double shift of men and having one city editor with day and night assistants. One paper will have a universal copy desk with a single copy editor handling all departments. Another will have, instead of a state editor, a section editor, a man who handles all special matter not carried by the press service from possibly half a dozen states. Thus the organizations vary in certain minor details, sometimes materially so; but, on the whole, one general system will prevail. And it is to give the student an understanding of a typical newspaper plant that Part I is written.

II. THE EDITORIAL ROOMS

4. Beginning Work.—As stated in the preceding chapter, the place at which the reporter presents himself for work the first day is the city room. Before coming, he will have seen the city editor and received instructions as to the time. If the office is that of a morning paper, he will probably be required to come some time between noon and six p.m. If it is that of an afternoon paper, he will be asked to report at six or seven a.m. Let us suppose it is a metropolitan afternoon journal and that he is requested to be in the office at seven, the hour when the city editor appears. The ambitious reporter will always be in his place not later than 6:45, so that he may see the city editor enter.

5. Copy Readers.—When a reporter appears on his first morning, he will find a big, desk-crowded room, deserted except for two or three silent workers reading and clipping papers at a long table. These men are known variously as the gas-house gang, the lobster shift, the morning stars, etc. They are the reporters and copy readers who read the morning papers for stories that may be rewritten or followed up for publication during the day. They have been on duty since two or three in the morning and have prepared most of the material for the bull-dog edition, the morning issue printed some time between 7:00 and 10:00 a.m. and mainly rewritten from the morning papers. On the entrance of the new reporter they will look up, direct him to a chair where he may sit until the city editor comes, and pay no more attention to him. They, or others who take their places, edit all the news stories. They correct spelling and punctuation, rewrite a story when the reporter has missed the main feature, reconstruct the lead, cut out contradictions, duplications, and libelous statements, and in general make the article conform to the length and style demanded by the paper; and having carefully revised the story, they write the headlines and chute it to the composing room. On the whole, these men are the most unpopular on the force, since they are subject to double criticism, from the editors above them and the reporters whose copy they correct. The city editor and the managing editor hold them responsible for poor headlines, libelous statements, involved sentences, and errors generally; the reporters blame them for pruning down their stories, changing leads, and often destroying what they regard as the very point of what they had to say.

6. Other Reporters.—As the new reporter waits by the city editor's desk, he will notice the arrival of the other members of the staff, who immediately begin their work for the day. One of these is the labor reporter. His business is to obtain and write news relating to labor and unions. Another is the marine reporter. He handles all news relating to shipping, clearing and docking of vessels, etc. Another reporter handles all stories coming from the police court. Another watches the morgue and the hospitals. Another, usually a woman, obtains society news. Still another visits the hotels. And so the division of reporters continues until all the sources of news have been parceled out.

7. The City Editor.—Then the city editor enters. If the reporter wishes to make good, let him love the law of the city editor. He is the man to whom all the reporters and some of the copy readers are responsible, and who in turn is responsible to the managing editor for the gathering and preparation of city news. He must know where news can be found, direct the getting of news, and see that it is put into the paper properly. When news is abundant, he must decide which stories shall be discarded, and on those rarer occasions when all the world—the good and the bad—seems to have gone to sleep, he must know how to make news. Every story written in the city room is first passed on by the city editor, who turns it over to the copy readers for correction. Even the length of each story is determined by him, and often the nature of it, whether it shall be humorous, pathetic, tragic, or mysterious. To his desires and idiosyncrasies the reporter must learn quickly to adapt himself. Sometimes the city editor may err. Sometimes, during his absence, he may put in authority eccentric substitutes, smaller men who issue arbitrary commands and require stories entirely different in style and character from what is regularly required. But the cub's first lesson must be in adaptability, willingness to obey orders and to accept news policies determined by those in authority. He must therefore follow to the letter the wishes of the city editor (or his assistants) and must always be loyal to him and his plans.[1]

[1] For an admirable exposition of the way in which the city editor handles his men and big stories, the student is advised to read two excellent articles by Alex. McD. Stoddart: "When a Gaynor is Shot," Independent, August 25, 1910, and "Telling the Tale of the Titanic," Independent, May 2, 1912.

8. The News Editor.—As a reporter's acquaintance grows, he will come to know other editors in the city room,—the news, telegraph, state, market, sporting, literary, dramatic, and other editors. Of these the news editor, sometimes known also as the make-up or the assistant managing editor, is most important. He handles all the telegraph and cable copy and much of what is sent in by mail. He decides what position the stories shall take in the paper, which articles shall have big heads and which little ones, which shall be thrown out, and in general determines the make-up of the pages. The news editor is always a bright man of wide knowledge, thoroughly conversant with state and national social and political movements, and more or less intimately acquainted with all sections of the United States.

9. Telegraph Editor.—Next to the news editor, and usually his chief assistant, is the telegraph editor. On some papers the two positions are combined. This man handles all telegraph copy from without the state, including that of the press bureaus and special correspondents in important American and European cities. Frequently in the largest news offices there are as many as a dozen telegraph operators who take his stories over direct wires. Like the news editor, he must be a man of wide acquaintance in order to know the value of a story from a distant section of the United States or the world. Since the outbreak of the European war, his has been an unusually responsible position because of the immense amount of war news and the necessity of knowing the exact importance of the capture of a certain city or the fall of a fort.

10. State Editor.—Next comes the state editor, who is responsible for all the state news and helps with the telegraph copy and local news when it becomes too bulky for the other copy readers to handle. The state editor manages the correspondents throughout the state and is particularly valuable when his paper is in the capital city or the metropolis of the state. Most of his copy comes by mail or long-distance telephone from correspondents residing or traveling in the state. Nearly all this copy needs editing, coming as it does largely from correspondents on country dailies and weeklies. In addition to editing stories sent in by correspondents, the state editor keeps a space book, from which he makes to the cashier in the business office a weekly or monthly report of the amount of material contributed by each correspondent.

11. Sporting Editor.—Unless given a place in the sporting department, the reporter will not soon meet the sporting editor, who, with his assistants, is usually honored with a room to himself and is independent of the city editor. But some day, by accident perhaps, the cub will get a peep through a door across the hallway into a veritable den. That is the sporting room. The four walls are covered with cuts of Willard, Gotch, Johnston, Matthewson, Travers, Hoppe, and dozens of other celebrities in the realm of sports. There the sporting editor—often a man who has been prominent in college athletics—reigns. Because of the intense interest in sports he must publish the news of his department promptly, and in consequence he often is privileged to make expenditures more freely than other editors. The sporting editor of a big daily must be an authority in athletic matters and should be able to decide on the instant, without looking up the book of regulations, any question relating to athletic rules or records.

12. Exchange Editor.—Another editor, who usually will be discovered in a room by himself, is the exchange editor. He will be found all but buried in piles of exchanges, now and then clipping a story not covered on the wires, an editorial, a criticism of his own paper, or a comment of any kind that may be worth copying or following up. He must know thoroughly the bias of his paper, to know what to clip and publish. Favorable references to his paper he reprints. Criticisms he refers to the managing editor, who reads them and throws them into the waste basket, or else keeps them for a reply in a later issue. Most of the jokes, anecdotes of famous men and women, stories of minor inventions and discoveries, and timely articles relating to current events, fashions, beliefs, etc., published on the editorial page and in the feature sections of the Sunday issue, are the result of the exchange editor's long hours of patient reading of newspapers mailed from every section of the United States.

13. The Morgue.—One of the chief duties of many exchange editors is to supply the morgue with material for its files. The morgue, sometimes called the library, is an important adjunct of every newspaper office. In it are kept, perhaps ready for printing, obituaries of well-known men, stories of their rise to prominence, pictures of them and their families, accounts of great discoveries, inventions, and disasters, and facts on every conceivable newspaper topic,—all ready for hasty reference or use. If the President of the United States were to drop dead from apoplexy, the papers would have on the streets in a quarter of an hour's time columns of stories giving his whole career. When the steamer Eastland turned over in the Chicago River, causing the death of 900 persons, the papers published in their regular editions boxed summaries of all previous ship disasters. When Willard knocked out Johnson at Havana, reviews of Willard's and Johnson's ring careers were printed in numerous dailies. All such stories are procured from the morgue, from files supplied mainly by the exchange editor. In some of the larger offices, however, these files are maintained independently of the exchange editor, and are under the charge of the librarian and a staff of assistants who keep catalogued lists of all maps, cuts, photographs, and clippings. On a moment's notice these may be obtained for use in the paper.

14. Other Editors.—Other editors, who may be passed with brief mention because of their minor importance in this volume, are the market, dramatic, literary, and society editors, and the editorial writers. The market editor handles all matters of a financial nature. Sometimes on the largest dailies there are both a market and a financial editor, but usually the work is combined under a single man whose duties are to keep in close touch with markets, banks, manufactories, and large mercantile companies, and to write up simply and accurately from day to day the financial condition of the city and the country. The duty of the literary editor is often little more than book reviewing. Frequently he does not have an office in the building, and on small papers his only remuneration is the gift of the book he reviews. The society editor, in addition to reporting notes of the social world, generally handles fashion stories, answers letters regarding etiquette, love, and marriage, and edits all material for the woman's page. The work of the editorial writers is explained by their name. They quit work at all sorts of hours, take two hours off for lunch, and are known in the city room as "highbrows." But many an editorial writer who comes to work at nine in the morning has worked very late the night before, searching for facts utilized in a half-column of editorial matter.

15. Cartoonists and Photographers.—The business of the cartoonist is to draw one cartoon a day upon some timely civic or political subject. He is responsible to the managing editor. Under him are other cartoonists who illustrate individual stories or do cartoon work for special departments of the paper. The sporting editor has one such man, and the city editor has one or two. Finally, there are the photographers, subject to the city editor, who rush hither and thither to all parts of the city and state, taking scenes valuable for cuts.

16. The Managing Editor.—The men whose work we have been discussing thus far are those whom the reporter meets in his daily work. Above all these is an executive officer whom the cub reporter rarely sees,—the managing editor, who has general supervision over all the news and editorial departments of the paper. He does little writing or editing himself, his time being taken up with administrative duties. All unusual expenditures are submitted for his approval. The size and make-up of the paper, which varies greatly from day to day on the large dailies, is a matter for his final decision. The cartoonist submits to him rough drafts of contemplated drawings. The city, telegraph, and news editors confer with him about getting important stories. The Sunday editor consults with him with regard to special features. To him is submitted a proof of every story, which he reads for possible libel and for general effectiveness. Now and then he returns a story to the city editor to be lengthened or to be pruned down. Occasionally he may kill an article. Always he is working at top speed, from the time he gets to his office at 8:00 a.m., or 2:00 p.m., until he sits down to compare his paper with the first edition of rival publications. For the managing editor scrutinizes with minute care every daily in the city, and when he finds anything to his paper's discredit, he begins an immediate investigation to learn how the slip happened and who was responsible.

17. Editor-in-Chief.—Above the managing editor is the editor-in-chief, often the owner of the paper. Of him the sub-editors say that his chief business is playing golf and smoking fat cigars. As a matter of fact, his duties are at once the most and the least exacting of any on the paper. He is either the owner or the personal representative of the owner, who looks to him for the execution of his policies. But since such policies necessarily must be subject to the most liberal interpretation, the final responsibility of the editorial rooms falls on the shoulders of the editor-in-chief. To make known the plans of the paper, the editor-in-chief holds with the editorial writers, the managing editor, and the city editor weekly, sometimes daily, meetings, at which are discussed all matters of doubt or dissatisfaction relating to the editorial rooms.

18. Conclusion.—In conclusion, then, we have the editor-in-chief, who is responsible for the general policies of the paper. Immediately beneath him is the managing editor, who executes the editor-in-chief's orders. Responsible to the editor-in-chief or the managing editor are the editorial writers, the news, city, sporting, exchange, literary, and dramatic editors, and the cartoonist. Beneath the city editor are a few of the copy readers and all the reporters. Such is the organization of the editorial staff of a typical metropolitan newspaper.

III. THE MECHANICAL DEPARTMENT

19. Division.—Beyond the editorial rooms is the mechanical department, with which every reporter should be, but rarely ever is, acquainted. Because of the heavy machinery necessary for preparing and printing a paper, the mechanical department is often found in the basement. This department is divisible into three sub-departments, the composing room, the stereotyping room, and the press room.

20. The Copy Cutter.—When a story has been revised by the copy reader and given proper headlines, it is turned over to the head copy reader or the news editor, who glances over it hastily to see that all is rightly done and chutes it in a pneumatic tube to the basket on the copy cutter's table or desk in the composing room. The copy cutter in turn glances at the headlines and the two or three pages of copy, and records the story upon a ruled blank on his desk. Then he clips the headlines and sends them by a copy distributor to the headline machine to be set up. The two or three pages of copy he cuts into three or four or five "takes," puts the slug number or name on each, and sends the "takes" to different compositors, so that the whole story may be set up more quickly than if it were given all to one man. If the time before going to press is very short, the pages may be cut into more takes. The slug names, sometimes called guide or catch lines, are marked on each take to enable the bank-men to assemble readily all the parts after they have been set in type.

21. The Linotype Machine.—Each compositor on receiving his take places it on the copy-holder of his linotype or monotype machine and begins composing it into type. The linotype machine consists of a keyboard not unlike that of the typewriter, which actuates a magazine containing matrices or countersunk letter molds, together with a casting mechanism for producing lines or bars of words. By touching the keys, the compositor releases letter by letter an entire line of matrices, which are mustered automatically into the assembling-stick at the left and above the keyboard, ready to be molded into a line of type. When the assembling-stick is full of matrices, enough to make a full line, the operator is warned, as on the typewriter, by the ringing of a tiny bell. The machinist then pulls a lever, which releases molten lead on the line of matrices and casts a slug of metal representing the letters he has just touched on the keys. The machine cuts and trims this slug of lead to an exact size, conveys it to the receiving galley for finished lines, and returns the matrices to their proper places in the magazine for use in a succeeding line. When the operator has composed twenty or twenty-five of these slugs, his take is completed. He then removes the slugs from their holder, wraps them in the manuscript, and sends them to the bank to be assembled with the other takes of the same story. The proof of the compositor's take looks something like the matter at the top of the next page.

The big three's are the compositor's slug number. This take was set up by the workman operating machine number 3. The Loops is the catch line, or slug name, by which the story is known, every take of the story being named Loops, so that the bank-men may easily get the parts of the story together. The letters at the right of Loops, in the same line, are merely any letters that the compositor has set up at random by tapping the linotype keys to fill out the line.

San Diego, Cal., Sept. 25.—Sergt. William Ocher and Corporal Albert Smith, attached to the United States army aviation corps at North Island, made fifteen loops each while engaged in flights, shattering army and navy aviation records. Both officers used the same machine equipped with a ninety horsepower motor, and designed for long distance flying.

This take, which was picked up at random in the editorial rooms of the Milwaukee Journal, was followed by this:

Omaha, Sept. 25.—Francis Hoover, Chicago aviator, fell 1,000 feet at David City, Neb. He alighted in a big tank and was not injured.

The compositor in this case was at machine number 7, and the slug name given the story was Folo Loops: that is, it was a follow story, to come after the one slugged Loops.

22. The Proofs.—On receipt of the different takes by the bank-man, the various parts of the story are assembled, with the proper head, in a long brass receptacle called a galley, and the first, or galley, proof is "pulled" on the proof press, a small hand machine. Three proofs are made. One goes to the managing editor, on whom rests responsibility for every story in the paper; one to the news editor; and one, with the original copy, to the head proofreader, who is responsible for all typographical errors. The head proofreader in turn gives the proof to an assistant and the manuscript to a copyholder, who reads the story to the assistant for the detection of typographical errors. A corrected galley proof will be returned in the form shown in the specimen proof sheet printed on [page 276].

23. The Form.—After all corrections have been made and the position of the story in the paper has been determined by the news editor, it is inserted in its proper place among other articles which together make up a page of type, or what printers know as a form. This form is locked in an enveloping steel frame, called a chase, and carried to the stereotyping room, the second department in the mechanical composition of the paper. In the small newspaper offices, the sheet is printed directly from the form. But since the leaden letters begin to blur after 15,000 impressions have been made, and since it has been found impossible to do fast printing from flat surfaces, it is necessary for the larger papers to cast from four to twelve stereotyped plates of each page.

24. Stereotyping Process.—These stereotyped plates are circular or semicircular in shape, so that they fit snugly on the press cylinders. They are made in the following way: When the form is brought into the stereotyping room, it is placed, face up, on the flat bed of a strongly built press. Over the face of the columns of type are spread several layers of tissue paper pasted together. Upon the paper is laid a damp blanket, and a heavy revolving steel drum subjects the whole to hundreds of pounds of pressure, thus squeezing the face of the type into the texture of the moist paper. Intense heat is then applied by a steam drier, so that within a few seconds the moisture has been baked entirely from the paper, which emerges a stiff flat matrix of the type in the form.

25. The Autoplate.—This matrix in turn is bent to the shape of the impressing cylinder that later stamps the page, and is put into an autoplate, or casting machine, which presses molten metal upon the paper matrix, cools the metal, and turns out in a few moments the finished, cylindrical plates ready to be put on the press for printing. Duplicates follow at intervals of from fifteen to twenty seconds, so that several impressions of the same page may be made at once in the press room and the whole paper printed more quickly than if a single impression of a page were made at one time.

26. The Press Room.—The press room, the third and final stage in the mechanical composition of the paper, is where the printing is done on highly complicated machines. The larger the number of pages of the paper printed, the more complicated the presses, the marvel of them being their adaptability to running full, or half, or third capacity, according to the needed output, or to printing a double or triple number of small sized papers in a third or half the usually required time. The large presses of the great dailies print, fold, cut, paste, and count, according to the size of the sheet, 50,000 to 125,000 papers an hour. A double sextuple press has a limit of 144,000 twelve-page papers an hour.

27. The Printing Press.—It is on the cylinders of these presses that the circular stereotyped plates are fitted, two plates filling nicely the round of the cylinder. All the plates for the inside pages of the paper are stereotyped and screwed on their cylinders a half-hour or more before press time, the pages with the latest news being held until the last possible moment. Usually the last page to come is the title page, and as soon as the last locking lever has been clamped, the wheels of the big press begin to turn. As the cylinders with their plates revolve, raised letters on the surface of the plate come in contact, first with the inked rollers, then with the paper, which is spun from large rolls and drawn through the press, obtaining as it goes the impression of the pages of type. As the printed ribbon of paper issues from beneath the cylinders, it is cut into pages, folded, and counted, ready for the circulation department. The whole period of time elapsing between the chute of the last story from the city room and the delivery of the printed pages to the newsboys will not have exceeded ten minutes.

28. Speed in Printing.—Even this brief time is materially cut when great stories break. The result of the Willard-Johnson fight in 1915 and all the details up to the last few rounds were cried on the streets of New York within two minutes after Johnson had been knocked out in Havana. This was made possible by means of the "fudge," a device especially designed for late news. This is a small printing cylinder, upon which is fitted a diminutive curved chase capable of holding a few linotype slugs. When the fudge is used, a stereotyped front page of the paper is ripped open and a prominent blank space left, so that if the press were to print now, the paper would appear with a large unprinted space on its front page. To this blank space, however, the fudge is keyed, so that as the web of paper passes the main cylinder, the little emergency cylinder makes its impression and the page appears to all appearances printed from a single cylinder.

29. Speed Devices.—The value of the fudge, of course, is that, by printing directly from the linotype slugs, it saves the time expended in stereotyping. Its speed, too, is increased by reason of the fact that every great newspaper has in the press room near the fudge a composing machine to which a special telegraph wire is run, and a special operator to read the news direct from the wire to the compositor. This enables the papers to meet the baseball crowd on its way home with extras giving full details of all the plays, and during the last quarter of the football game to sell in the bleachers a complete account to the end of the first half. But even this speed is not always sufficient. Where the outcome of a big piece of news may be predicted, advance headlines are set up and held ready to be clamped on the press. In the case of the Willard-Johnson fight, two heads were held awaiting the knockout: JESS WILLARD NEW CHAMPION and JACK JOHNSON RETAINS TITLE. When President McKinley died in September, 1901, one prominent Milwaukee newspaper man held locked on his presses from 8:00 a.m. until the President died at midnight the plates that would print the whole story of Mr. McKinley's life, assassination, and death. Then when the flash came announcing the dreaded event, the presses were started, and ten seconds afterward newsboys were crying the death of the President of the United States. Such are some of the devices editors use to publish news in the shortest possible time.

IV. THE BUSINESS DEPARTMENT

30. Divisions of the Business Department.—When the paper issues from the press, it passes into the hands of the circulation manager, whose duties are in an entirely different department of the newspaper organization,—the business department. This department is divided into two or three more or less closely connected divisions, presided over by the circulation manager, the advertising manager, and the cashier. Over all these is the business manager, who supervises the department as a whole.

31. The Circulation Manager.—The work of the circulation manager has been termed simple by outsiders. But the simplicity exists only for outsiders. The distribution of a hundred thousand to a million papers a day is not a small task in itself, particularly when one considers the scores of trains to be caught, the dozens of delivery wagons and wagon drivers to be guided, and the hundreds of newsboys and newsstands to be supplied with the very latest editions at the very earliest moment. Yet the circulation manager's duties are even more multifarious than this. All the canvassers for new subscriptions are under his supervision. The organization of the newsboys for selling his paper is his duty,—and it is marvelous how the good-will of the newsboys, even when they handle all rival publications, can boost the sales of some particular circulation manager's papers. The advertising of the paper's past and forthcoming news features, such as stories by special writers, exclusive dispatches, etc., are the brunt of his work, because in so far as he makes people believe in the superiority of his news, they will buy the papers. Even the outcries against public grievances and the publication of subscription lists for charitable purposes are often the thoughts of the circulation manager, because they invite more readers. Some managers, under the guise of helping the down-and-outs, even publish free all "Situations Wanted" advertisements, because they believe that the loss in advertising will be more than paid for by the gain in the number of readers, with the resultant possibility of higher advertising rates or more advertising in other departments because of the increased circulation.

32. The Advertising Manager.—Closely associated with the circulation manager is the advertising manager, who is dependent upon the former for his rates. It makes a great difference with the advertising manager's rates whether the circulation is a hundred thousand or a quarter of a million, and whether the circulation is double or one half that of the rival morning publication. The advertising manager's duties are as manifold as those of his associate. He directs the advertising solicitors and advises prospective advertisers about the place, prices, space, and character of their advertisements. A chewing tobacco ad is worth little in the column bordering the society section; the back page is far more valuable for advertising than the inside; and the columns next to reading matter are worth more than those on a page filled only with advertisements. The advertising manager, too, has the power of accepting or rejecting advertisements. Liquor, soothing syrup, and questionable ads are barred by many managers. Some will not even accept so-called personal ads. Yet at the same time that they are rejecting ads in this class, such managers are straining every point to gain desirable ones. One way of obtaining these is by advertising solicitors. Another is by advertising in one's own paper and in publications in other cities. Many of the metropolitan dailies exchange whole and half-page advertisements, directing attention to their circulation figures and the number of agate lines of advertising matter printed within the preceding month or year. Some of these papers publish audited statements, too, of the relative number of advertising lines printed by their own and rival publications. But the advantage is always in their own favor.

33. The Cashier.—The third division of the business department is the cashier's office, frequently known as the counting room. Briefly put, the cashier directs the pay-roll and all receipts and disbursements of the paper. He keeps the books of the publishing company. From him the reporter receives his pay envelop, and to him are sent all bills for paper, ink, machinery, telegraph and telephone messages, and similar expenses. Rarely has the cashier served an apprenticeship in the editorial department, but he knows thoroughly the business of bookkeeping, money changing, banking, and similar work, which is all that is required in his position.

PART II
THE NEWS STORY

THE NEWS STORY

V. WHAT NEWS IS

34. Essentials of News Writing.—To write successful news stories, four requisites are necessary: the power to estimate news values properly, the stories to write, the ability to work rapidly, and the power to present facts accurately and interestingly.

35. The "Nose for News."—Recognition of news values is put first in the tabulation of requirements for successful writing because without a "nose for news"—without the ability to recognize a story when one sees it—a reporter cannot hope to succeed. Editorial rooms all over the United States are full of stories of would-be reporters who have failed because they have not been able to recognize news. The following is a genuine first paragraph of a country correspondent's letter to a village weekly in Tennessee:

There is no news in this settlement to speak of. We did hear of a man whose head was blown off by a boiler explosion, but we didn't have time to learn his name. Anyhow he didn't have any kinfolk in this country, so it don't much matter.

Then follow the usual dull items about Henry Hawkins Sundaying in Adamsville and Tom Anderson autoing with a new girl.

36. Need of Knowing News.—The fault with this correspondent was that he did not know a good story. He lacked an intuitive knowledge of news values, and he had not been trained to recognize available news possibilities. A clear understanding of what news is, and an analysis of its more or less elusive qualities, is necessary, therefore, before one may attempt a search for it or may dare the writing of a newspaper story.

37. Definition of News.—In its final analysis, news may be defined as any accurate fact or idea that will interest a large number of readers; and of two stories the accurate one that interests the greater number of people is the better. The student should examine this definition with care as there is more in it than at first appears. Strangeness, abnormality, unexpectedness, nearness of the events, all add to the interest of a story, but none is essential. Even timeliness is not a prerequisite. If it were learned to-day that a member of the United States Senate had killed a man in 1912, the occurrence would be news and would be carried on the front page of every paper in America, even though the deed were committed years ago. And if it should transpire that Csolgosz was bribed by an American millionaire to assassinate President McKinley in 1901, the story would be good for a column in any paper. Freshness, enormity, departure from the normal, all are good and add to the value of news, but they are not essential. The only requirements are that the story shall be accurate and shall contain facts or ideas interesting to a considerable number of readers.

38. Accuracy.—The reason for emphasizing so particularly the need of accuracy in news requires little discussion. Accuracy First is the slogan of the modern newspaper. If a piece of news, no matter how thrilling, is untrue, it is worthless in the columns of a reputable journal. It is worse than worthless, because it makes the public lose confidence in the paper. And the ideal of all first-class newspapers to-day is never to be compelled to retract a published statement. This desire for accuracy does not bar a paper from publishing, for example, a rumor of the assassination of the German Crown Prince, but it does demand that the report be published only as an unverified rumor.

39. Interest.—The statement, however, that interest is the other requisite of news requires full explanation, because the demand immediately comes for an explanation of that elusive quality in news which makes it interesting. In other words, what constitutes interest? Any item of news, it may be defined, that will present a new problem, a new situation, that will provoke thought in the minds of a considerable number of readers, is interesting, and that story is most interesting which presents a new problem to the greatest number of people. It is a psychological truth that all men think only when they must. Yet they enjoy being made to think,—not too hard, but hard enough to engage their minds seriously. The first time they meet a problem they think over it, and think hard if need be. But when they meet that problem a second or a third time, they solve it automatically. A man learning to drive a car has presented to him a new problem about which he must think keenly. The steering wheel, the foot-brake, the accelerator, the brake and speed levers, the possibility of touching the wrong pedal,—all demand his undivided attention and keep him thinking every moment of the time. But having learned, having solved his problem, he can run his car without conscious thought, and meanwhile can devote his mind to problems of business or pleasure. As Professor Pitkin says:

Whatsoever we can manage through some other agency we do so manage. And, if thinking is imperative for a while, we make that while as brief as possible. The baby thinks in learning to walk, but as soon as his feet move surely he refrains from cogitation. He thinks over his speech, too, but quickly he outgrows that, transforming discourse from an intellectual performance to a reflex habit. And he never thinks about the order and choice of words again, unless they give rise to some new, unforeseen perplexity; as, for instance, they might, were he suddenly afflicted with stammering or stage fright. This is no scandal, it is a great convenience. Thanks to it, men are able to concern themselves with fresh enterprises and hence to progress. Indeed, civilization is a titanic monument to thoughtlessness, no less than to thought. The supreme triumph of mind is to dispense with itself. For what would intellect avail us, if we could not withdraw it from action in all the habitual encounters of daily life?[2]

[2] Short Story Writing, pp. 64-65.

40. What Provokes Thought is News.—Men apply the same principle, too, in their news reading. Whatever presents a new problem, or injects a new motive or situation into an old one, will be interesting and will be read by those readers to whom the problem or situation is new. It is not, therefore, that American men and women are interested in the sins and misfortunes of others that they read stories of crime and unhallowed love, but that such stories present new problems, new life situations, or new phases of old problems and old situations. A story of innocence and hallowed love would be just as interesting. When the newspapers of the United States make the President's wedding the big story of the day, it is not that they think their patrons have never seen a wedding, but that a wedding under just such circumstances has never been presented before. And every published story of murder or divorce or struggle for victory offers new thought-provoking problems to newspaper readers. Men are continually searching for new situations that will present new problems. And any story that will provoke a reader's thought will be enjoyed as news.

41. Timeliness.—But there are certain definite features that add greatly to the interest of stories. Timeliness is the first of these. Indeed, timeliness is so important in a story that one prominent writer[3] on journalism deems it an essential of a good story. Certainly it figures in ninety per cent of the published articles in our daily newspapers. The word yesterday has been relegated to the scrap heap. To-day, this morning, this afternoon should appear if possible in every story. And the divorce that was granted yesterday or the accident that happened last night must be viewed from such an angle that to-day shall appear in the write-up. Close competition and improved machinery have made freshness, timeliness, all but a requisite in every story.

[3] Professor Willard Grosvenor Bleyer. See his Newspaper Writing and Editing, p. 18.

42. Closeness of the Event.—Next to nearness in time comes nearness in place as a means of maintaining interest. Other things being equal, the worth of a story varies in inverse proportion to its closeness in time and place. A theft of ten dollars in one's home town is worth more space than a theft of a thousand in a city across the continent. A visit of Mrs. Gadabit, wife of the president of our city bank, to Neighborville twenty miles away is worth more space than a trip made by Mrs. Astor to Europe. Whenever possible, the good reporter seeks to localize his story and draw it close to the everyday lives of his readers. Even an accidental acquaintance of a man in town with the noted governor or the notorious criminal who has just been brought into the public eye—with a brief quotation of the local man's opinion of the other fellow, or how they chanced to meet,—is worth generous space in any paper. Oftentimes a resident man or woman's opinion of a statement made by some one else, or of a problem of civic, state, or national interest, is given an important place merely by reason of the fact that the story is associated with some locally prominent person. Always the effort is made to localize the news.

43. The Search for Extremes.—Again, say what one may, the American public loves extremes in its news stories. If a pumpkin can be made the largest ever grown in one's section, or a murder the foulest ever committed in the vicinity, or a robbery the boldest ever attempted in the block, or a race the fastest ever run on the track, or anything else the largest or the least ever registered in the community, it will be good for valuable space in the local news columns. A record breaker in anything is a new problem to the public, who will read with eager joy every detail concerning the attainment of the new record.

44. The Unusual.—The exceptional, the unusual, the abnormal is in a sense a record breaker and will be read about with zest. A burglar stealing a Bible or returning a baby's mite box, a calf with two heads, a dog committing suicide, a husband divorcing his wife so that she may marry a man whom she loves better,—such stories belong in the list with the unique and will be found of exceptional interest to readers.

45. Contests.—The description of a contest always makes interesting news. No matter whether the struggle is between athletic teams, business men, society women, race horses, or neighboring cities, if the element of struggle for supremacy can be injected into the story, it will be read with added zest. Such stories may be found in the search of politicians for office, in the struggles of business men for control of trade or for squeezing out competitors, in contests between capital and labor, in religious factions, in collegiate rivalry, and in many of the seemingly commonplace struggles of everyday life. The individual, elementary appeal that comes from struggle is always thrilling.

46. Helplessness.—Opposed to stories depicting struggle for supremacy are those portraying the joys or the sufferings of the very old or very young, or of those who are physically or mentally unable to struggle. The joy of an aged mother because her boy remembered her birthday, the undeserved sufferings of an old man, the cry of a child in pain, the distress of a helpless animal, all are full of interest to the average reader. Helplessness, particularly in its hours of suffering or its moments of unaccustomed pleasure, compels the sympathy of everyone, and every reporter is delighted with the opportunity to write a "sob story" picturing the friendlessness and the want of such unprivileged ones. These stories not only are read with interest, but often prove a practical means of helping those in distress.

47. Prominent Persons.—Directly opposed to stories about helpless persons or animals are those of prominent men and women. For some reason news about the great, no matter how trivial, is always of interest, and varies in direct proportion to the prominence of the person. If the President of the United States drives a golf ball into a robin's nest, if the oil king in the Middle West prefers a wig to baldness, if the millionaire automobile manufacturer never pays more than five cents for his cigars, the reading public is greatly interested in learning the fact. Nor is it essential that the reader shall have heard of the prominent man. It is sufficient that his position socially or professionally is high.

48. Well-known Places.—The same interest attaches to noted or notorious places. A news item about Reno, Nevada, is worth more than one about Rome, Georgia, though the cities are of about the same size. A street traffic regulation in New York City is copied all over the United States, notwithstanding the fact that the same law may have been passed by the city council in Winchester, Kentucky, years before and gone unnoticed. And so with Coney Island or Niagara Falls or Death Valley, or any one of a hundred other places that might be named. The fashions they originate, the ideas for which they stand sponsors, the accidents that happen in their vicinity, all have specific interest by virtue of their previous note or notoriety. And if the reporter can fix the setting of his story in such a place, he may be assured of interested readers.

49. Personal and Financial Interests.—Finally, if a news story can be found that will bear directly on the personal or financial interests of the patrons of the paper, one may be sure of its cordial reception. If turkeys take the roup six weeks before Thanksgiving, or taxes promise a drop with the new year, or pork volplanes two or three cents, or an ice famine is threatened, or styles promise coats a few inches shorter or socks a few shades greener, the readers are eager to know and will applaud the vigilance of the editors. For this reason, a reporter can often pick up an extra story—and reporters are judged by the extra stories they place on the city editor's desk—by occasionally dropping in at markets, grocery stores, and similar business houses and inquiring casually for possible drops or rises in price. For the same reason, too, new styles as seen in the shop windows are always good for a half-column. And one cannot think of covering a dressmakers' convention, an automobile show, a jewelers' exhibition, or a similar gathering without playing up prominently the new styles. A clever San Francisco reporter covering a convention of insurance agents once produced a brilliant story on new styles in life insurance policies.

50. Summary.—By way of summary, then, it may be said that the only requirements of an event or an idea to make it good story material are that it be presented accurately and that it possess interest for a goodly number of readers; and any fact or idea which presents a situation or poses a problem differing, even slightly, from preceding situations or problems encountered by the readers of a paper is sure to possess interest. Timeliness is of vital worth, but is not a necessity. The geographical nearness of an event adds to its value, as does the fact that the event or the product or the result is a record breaker or is unique in its class. Contests of all sorts invariably possess interest, and stories of the helplessness of old persons, children, or animals never fail to have an emotional appeal. Any news item concerning a well-known person or place is likely to attract attention, and any story that touches the home or business interests of the public is sure to command interested readers. All these features are valuable, and any one will contribute much to the worth of a story, but none is essential. The prerequisite is that the news shall be true and shall present a new situation or problem, or a new phase of an old situation or problem.

VI. NEWS SOURCES

51. Second Essential of News Writing.—As explained in the preceding chapter, the first essential in news writing is a proper appreciation of news and news values. The second essential is the possession of a story to write. This chapter will discuss news sources, leaving for Chapter III an explanation of the methods of getting stories.

52. Gathering News.—The prospective reporter who supposes that newspaper men wander aimlessly up and down the streets of a city, watching and hoping for automobiles to collide and for men to shoot their enemies, will have his eyes opened soon after entering a news office. He will learn that a reporter never leaves the city room without a definite idea of where he is going. If newspapers had to police the streets with watchers for news as the city government assigns officers of the law, the cost of gathering news would be prohibitive.

53. Police as News Gatherers.—As a matter of fact, a paper has comparatively few paid men on its staff, though it has hundreds of non-paid watchers who are just as faithful. The police are the chief of these. As every reporter knows, a policeman is compelled to make to his captain a full and prompt report of every fire, robbery, murder, accident, or mishap involving loss of, or danger to, life or property occurring on his beat. This report is made to the local precinct or station, whence it is telephoned to police headquarters. At the central station the report is recorded in the daily record book of crime, known familiarly to the public as the "blotter." Not all of the reports recorded on the police blotter are made public, because hasty announcement of information received by the police oftentimes would forestall expected arrests; but such information as the desk sergeant is willing to utter is given out in brief bulletins, sometimes posted behind locked glass doors, sometimes simply written in a large ledger open to public inspection. Whether written in the ledger or displayed on a bulletin board, these bulletins are known always as slips, of which the following are typical examples:

Oct. 4

Suicide Attempt

Theodore Pavolovich, 24 yrs., arrested Oct. 1, 1915, fugitive, abandonment, Chicago, attempted suicide by stabbing with a fork while eating dinner. Sent to Emergency Hospital, ambulance 4. 12:50 p. m.

Conway

Oct. 4

Clothing Found

Woman's coat, hat, and purse found on bank of Lake Michigan, foot of Pine St., 4:10 p. m. Skirt taken from water, same place, 4:30 p. m., by patrolman Heath. Clothing identified as Mrs. George Riley's, 18 Veazy St., missing since noon. 4:40 p. m.

Nock

Oct. 18

Leg Broken

Mary Molinski, 40 yrs., single, 492 Grove St., fell down stairs, 7:05 p. m. Leg broken. Conveyed to St. Elizabeth Hospital by patrol 3. 7:30 p. m.

Pct. 3.

Oct. 19

Calf Carcass Found

Calf carcass, black and white hide, weight about 85 pounds, found at 11th and Henry Ave. 6:30 a. m.

Oper

These slips need little explanation. The name signed to each is that of the police officer reporting. The Pct. 3 signed after the third indicates merely the local precinct from which the report was made. The time at the end of each slip signifies the exact time at which the report was received at police headquarters.

54. Arrest Sheets.—In addition to the slips there are the "arrest sheets," on which all arrests are recorded. These sheets are open always to public inspection, as the public has a right to know of every arrest, lest a man be imprisoned unjustly. On [page 37] is given a verbatim reproduction of the arrests recorded in a city in the Middle West. The M or S at the top of the fifth column stands for married or single, and R and W at the top of the eighth, for read and write. The D and D charge against the second offender is drunk and disorderly. It will be noted that the cases entered after ten o'clock had not been disposed of when this sheet was copied. From these arrest sheets and the slips, as the reader may readily see, the reporter is able to get a brief but prompt and accurate account of most of the accidents and crimes within the city. And with these advance notices in his possession he can follow up the event and get all available facts.

55. Other News Gatherers.—But there are numerous other non-paid news gatherers. Doctors are required to report to the health department every birth, death, and contagious disease to which they have been called in a professional capacity. To the coroner is reported every fatal accident, suicide, murder, or suspicious death. The county clerk keeps a record of every marriage license. The recorder of deeds has a register of all sales and transfers of property. The building inspector has a full account of buildings condemned, permits granted for new buildings, and fire devices required. The leading hotels have the names of important guests visiting or passing through the city. Thus by regular visitation of certain persons and places in the city, a newspaper through its representatives, the reporters, is able to get most of the news of its neighborhood.

56. Regular News Sources.—Places that serve as news sources are known as "beats" or "runs." The chief ones and the kinds of news found at each are:

• Associated Charities Headquarters: destitution, poverty, relief work.
• Boards of Trade, Brokers, Commission Men: market quotations; sales of grain, stocks, and bonds; financial outlook.
• Boxing Commission: boxing permissions and regulations.
• Building Department, Real Estate Dealers, Architects: new buildings, unsafe buildings.
• Caterers: banquets, society dinners.
• Civic Organizations: reform movements, speakers, etc.
• Civil Courts: complaints, trials, decisions.
• Commercial Club: business news.
• Coroner's Office: fatal accidents, murders, suicides, suspicious deaths.
• County Clerk: marriage licenses, county statistics.
• County Jail: arrests, crimes, executions.
• Criminal Courts: arraignments, trials, verdicts.
• Delicatessen Stores: banquets, society dinners.
• Fire Department Headquarters: fires, fire losses, fire regulations, condemned buildings.
• Florists: banquets, dinners, receptions, social functions.
• Health Department: births, deaths, contagious diseases, reports on sanitation.
• Hospitals: accidents, illnesses, deaths.
• Hotels: important guests, banquets, dinners, social functions.
• Labor Union Headquarters: labor news.
• Morgue: unidentified corpses.
• Police Headquarters: accidents, arrests, crimes, fires, lost and found articles, missing persons, suicides, sudden or suspicious deaths.
• Political Clubs and Headquarters: county, state, and national political news.
• Probate Office: estates, wills.
• Public Works Department: civic improvements.
• Railway Offices: new rates, general shipping news.
• Referee in Bankruptcy: assignments, failures, creditors' meetings, appointments of receivers, settlements.
• Register of Deeds: real estate sales and transfers.
• Shipping Offices: departure and docking of vessels; cargoes, shipping rates, passenger lists.
• Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals: arrests, complaints, animal stories.
• Superintendent of Schools: educational news.
• Vice Commission: arrests, complaints, raids.

57. News Runs.—These runs are distributed among the different reporters, sometimes only one, sometimes three or four to a person. On a small paper all of the runs, or all to be found in that town, may be given to one reporter, the number assigned depending upon the size of the town, the nature of the territory covered, and the willingness or unwillingness of the owners to spend money in getting news. On the larger papers, however, police headquarters generally provide work for one man alone, known as the "watcher." In many cases he does no writing at all, but merely watches the slips and the sheets for reports and arrests, which he telephones to the city editor, who assigns other reporters to get the details and write the stories. Another reporter watches the city clerk's office and perhaps all the other departments in the city hall, which he visits at random intervals during the day, but without such close attention to any one office as is given to police headquarters. Still another goes to the shipping offices and two or three other places which he will visit ordinarily not more than once a day. But whether he goes five times a day or only once, a reporter is held responsible for all the news occurring on his run; and if he falls short in his duty or lets some more nimble-witted reporter scoop him on the news of his beat, he had better begin making himself friends of the mammon of unrighteousness to receive him into their habitations; for a scoop, even of a few minutes, by a rival publication is the unpardonable sin with the city editor. The wise reporter never neglects any news source on his run.

58. Dark Runs.—Before we take up methods of getting stories, one other news source should be noted,—what reporters know as "dark runs," runs that are consistently productive of news, but which must be kept "dark." Such places are garages, delicatessen stores, florists' shops, and similar shops providing flowers, cakes, and luxuries for private dinners and receptions. An unwritten law of trade makes it a breach of professional etiquette for a shopkeeper to tell the names of purchasers of goods, but many a proprietor, as a matter of business pride, is glad to recount the names of his patrons on Lakeside Drive and their splendid orders just given. Garage men, too, wishing it known that millionaire automobile owners patronize their shops, often are willing to tell of battered cars repaired by their men. All such sources are fertile with stories. Many a rich man's automobile crashes into a culvert or a telegraph pole and nobody knows of it but the mechanic in the repair shop. Many a prominent club-man indulges in orgies of revelry and dissipation of which none knows but the caterer and a few chosen, non-committal friends. Many a society leader plans receptions and dinners of which the florist learns before the friends who are to be invited. And by skilfully encouraging the friendship of these tradesmen, a shrewd reporter can obtain exclusive facts about prominent persons who cannot understand, when they see their names in the morning paper, how the information was made public. These "dark runs" justify diligent attention. They produce news, and valuable is the reporter who can include successfully a number of such sources in his daily rounds.

59. Value of Wide Acquaintance.—Attention may be directed, too, to the need of deliberately cultivating friendships and acquaintances, not only on these "dark runs," but wherever one goes—both on and off duty. In the stores, along the street, on the cars, at the club, the alert reporter gathers many an important news item. The merchant, the cabman, the preacher, the barkeeper, the patrolman, the thug, the club-man, the porter, all make valuable acquaintances, as they are able often to give one stories or clues to the solution of problems that are all but invaluable to the paper. And such facts as they present are given solely because of their interest in the reporter. One should guard zealously, however, against betraying the confidence of such friends. The reporter must distinguish the difference between publishing a story gained from a stranger by dint of shrewd interviewing, and printing the same story obtained from a fellow club-man more or less confidentially over the cigars and coffee. The stranger's information the reporter must publish. No newspaper man has a right to suppress news obtained while on duty or to accept the confidence of anyone, if by such confidence he is precluded the right to publish certain facts. The publication or non-publication of such news is a matter for the city editor's decision alone. But a story obtained confidentially from a friend at the club or in the home of a neighbor may not be used except with the express permission of those persons. Many a man has seen himself and his paper scooped because he was too honorable to betray the trust of his friends; but such a single scoop is worth nothing in comparison with the continued confidence of one's friends and their later prejudiced assistance. Personal and professional integrity is a newspaper man's first principle.

VII. GETTING THE STORY

60. Starting for a Story.—In the preceding chapter attention was directed to news sources, to definite places for obtaining news. The reporter's situation changes radically, however, when he is sent for a story and is told merely that somebody at Grove and Spring streets has been shot. There are four corners at Grove and Spring streets, and the shooting may have occurred, not on the corner, but at the second or third house from any one of the four corners, and maybe in a rear apartment. On such an assignment one should have on hand cards and plenty of paper and pencils. Every reporter should keep several sharp, soft lead pencils. Folded copy paper is sufficient for note-taking. The stage journalist appears always with conspicuous pencil and notebook, but the practical newspaper man displays these insignia of his profession as little as possible. A neat, engraved business card is necessary because often it is the only means of admittance to a house.

61. Use of the Telephone.—If the name of the person shot at Spring and Grove streets has been given him, the reporter may look it up in the telephone and city directories, in order to get some idea of the man and his profession. If the house has a telephone, the reporter may sometimes use this means of getting information, but this step generally is not advisable, as the telephone cannot be trusted on important stories. A person can ring off too easily if he prefers not to answer questions, and his gestures and facial expressions, emphasizing or denying the statements that his lips make, cannot be seen. The telephone is rather to be used for running down rumors and tips, for obtaining unimportant interviews, and for getting stories which the persons concerned wish to have appear in the paper. If in this case the reporter has doubts about the shooting, he may telephone to a nearby bakery or meat market to verify the rumor, but he had better not telephone the house. Let him go there in person.

62. City Maps.—If the reporter does not know the name of the individual shot or the location of Grove and Spring streets, he should consult his city map to learn precisely where he is going. If he is in a hurry, he may examine the map on his way to the car line, or while he is calling a taxi. Actually he ought to know the city so well that he need not consult a map at all (and the man whose ambition is to be a first-class reporter will soon acquire that knowledge), but to a beginner, a map is valuable.

63. Finding the Place.—Having arrived at Grove and Spring streets, the reporter should go first to the policeman on the beat. Unless the shooting is one that for some reason has been hushed up, the policeman will know all the main details. Usually, too, if approached courteously, he will be glad to point out the house and tell what he knows. If he knows nothing or pretends ignorance, the reporter must seek the house itself; nor must he be discouraged if he fails to get his information at the first, second, or third house, nor indeed after he has inquired at every door in the adjacent blocks. There are still left the neighborhood stores,—the groceries, bakeries, saloons, meat markets, and barber shops,—and maybe in the last one of these, the barber shop, a customer with his coat off, waiting for a shave, will remember that he heard somebody say a man by the name of Davis was shot "around the corner." But he does not know what corner, or where the man lives, or his initials, or who gave him his information.

64. Regular Reports to the City Editor.—The reporter's first step now is to go to the corner drugstore and examine the telephone and city directories for every Davis living in the neighborhood. While in the drugstore he may call up the city editor and report progress on the story. When away on an assignment there is need always of reporting regularly, particularly if one is working on an afternoon paper. Some city editors require a man to telephone every hour whether he has any news or not. A big story may break and the city editor may have nobody to handle it, or the office may have fuller information about the story which the reporter is investigating. Besides, on an afternoon paper where an edition is appearing every hour or so, every fresh detail, though small, may be of interest to readers following the story.

65. Retracing One's Work.—If no Davises are listed in the city or telephone directories, or none of those whose names appear knows anything of the shooting, the reporter's work of inquiry is still unfinished. He must go back to the patrolman on the beat and inquire if any person by the name of Davis has recently moved into the neighborhood,—since, for instance, the last city directory was published. Failing again, he must make once more the rounds of the houses on or near the four corners and of the neighborhood shops, inquiring in each instance for Mr. Davis. If there is a grocery store, a bakery, or a laundry in the vicinity, he must be sure to inquire there, particularly at the laundry, as the proprietors of those places are the first to get the names of newcomers in a neighborhood. The laundries must have names and addresses for deliveries, while housewives exchange gossip daily in the other places between purchases of vegetables and yeast cakes.

66. Need of Determination.—If the reporter still fails, he must not give up even yet without first resorting to every other measure that the special circumstances of the case make possible. There is never a story without some way to unearth it, and every such story is potentially a great one. A telephone message to the leading hospitals may bring results. Inquiry at the corner houses in the four adjoining blocks may disclose a Mr. Davis. Inquiry of the children skating along the sidewalk may unearth him. But in any event, the reporter must not give up until he has investigated every available clue. The city editor does not want and will not take excuses for failures to bring back stories; he wants stories.

67. Gaining Access for an Interview.—If at his last place of inquiry, perhaps from one of the skating children, the reporter learns it was not Mr. Davis at all who was shot, but Mr. Davidson, who may be found three blocks down at Spring and Grosvenor streets, his task now immediately changes to gaining access to Mr. Davidson, or to Mrs. Davidson, or to some one in the building who can give him the facts. Here is where his card may serve. If Mr. Davidson has rooms in a hotel, he may send his card up by a bellboy; if in a club, he may give it to the porter at the door. If the house at Spring and Grosvenor streets, however, is plainly one where a card would be out of place, he may simply inquire for Mr. Davidson. It is not at all improbable that Mr. Davidson was only slightly injured and one may be permitted to see him. If, however, the person answering the door states that Mr. Davidson cannot be seen, as he was injured that morning, the reporter may express his interest and inquire the cause, thus making a natural and easy step toward what newspaper men generally consider the most difficult phase of reporting,—the interview.

68. Requirements for Interviewing.—Broadly speaking, there are six requirements for successful interviewing: a pleasing presence, the ability to question judiciously, a quick perception of news even in chance remarks, a retentive memory, the power to detect falsehood readily, and the ability to single out characteristic phrases. Technically, an interview is a consultation with a man of rank for the sake of publishing his opinions. In practice, however, because the term man of rank is hazy in its inclusiveness, the word has come to mean consultation with any person for the purpose of reporting his views. And in this sense the word interview will be used in this volume.

69. A Pleasing Presence.—The first requisite for successful interviewing, a pleasing presence, must be interpreted broadly. In the term are included immaculacy of person and linen, as well as tact, courtesy, and all those qualities that make for ease of mind while conversing. Clothes may not make a man, but the lack of them will ruin a reporter. An unshaven face or a collar of yesterday's wear will do a newspaper man so much harm in some persons' eyes that all the shrewd questions he can ask during the interview will be of little value. Lack of tact in approaching or addressing a man will have the same unfortunate result. Many reporters think that by resorting to flattery they can induce men to talk; then they wonder why they fail. A reporter must keep in mind that the persons he interviews usually possess as keen intellects as his own and mere flattery will be quickly detected and resented.

70. Courtesy.—Above all things in his purpose to present a pleasing presence, the interviewer must possess unfailing courtesy. He must never forget that he is a gentleman, no matter what the other person may be. He cannot afford to permit himself even to become angry. Anger does not pay, for two reasons. In the first place, when a reporter loses his temper, he immediately loses his head. He becomes so absorbed in his own emotions that he cannot question shrewdly or remember clearly what is said by the man from whom he would extract information. In the second place, anger creates hostility, and a hostile man or woman not only does not willingly give information, but will be an enemy of the paper forever afterward. Always, therefore, the interviewer must be courteous, knowing that kindness begets kindness and that the other fellow, if approached rightly, will respond in the end to his own mood.

71. Asking Questions.—Concerning the second requirement for interviewing, judicious questioning, only general precepts can be given. The reporter must rely largely on himself. As a rule, however, the personal equation should be considered. Every man is interested in himself and his work, and the interviewer often may start him talking by beginning on work. The essential thing is to get some topic that will launch him into easy, natural conversation. Then, with his man started, the interviewer may well keep silent. Only a cub reporter will interrupt the natural flow of conversation for the sake merely of giving his own views. If the man runs too far afield, the reporter may guide the conversation back to the original topic; but he may well subject himself to much irrelevant talk for the sake of guiding his informer back gracefully to the topic of interest.

72. Persons Seeking Advertisement.—From the standpoint of the newspaper man, there are three classes of persons one encounters in interviewing: those who talk, those who will not, and those who do not know they are divulging secrets. Concerning the first little need be said. Such persons talk because they enjoy seeing their names in print. It is a marvel how many men and women object with seeming sincerity to their names being made public property, yet at the same time give the reporter full details for the story he wishes and hand him their cards so that he may spell their names correctly. Many such celebrities will stand for any kind of interview, so that the reporter need only determine in advance what he would have them say to make a good story. With them advertisement is so much personal gain; they are glad to accede to any sort of odd statement for the sake of possible public notice. Such persons are to be avoided; advertisements are written by the advertising manager or his helpers and fixed prices are charged.

73. Persons Refusing to Talk.—With the second and third classes, however, the interviewer must be careful, particularly with the second. Men who will not talk are usually well acquainted with the world. Sometimes they may be forced into making statements by asking them questions that will almost certainly arouse their anger and so make them speak hastily, but the reporter himself must be doubly careful in such cases to keep his own temper sweet. Oftentimes such men, particularly society criminals and others who possess an especial fear of having their wrong-doing known among their friends, try to keep from being written up by saying they are unwilling to make any kind of statement for publication, but that they will do so in court if anything is published about them. The reporter will not let such a threat daunt him. He will get the facts and present them to the city editor with the person's hint of criminal action, then let the city editor determine the problem of publication.

74. Persons Divulging Secrets.—Frequently a person of the second class may be slyly converted into the group of those who do not know they are divulging secrets, by the reporter deliberately leading away from the topic about which he has come for an interview, then circling round to the hazardous subject when the person interviewed is off his guard. Probably the most ticklish situation in all reporting is here. To make a person tell what he knows without knowing that he is telling is the pinnacle of the art of interviewing. As Mr. Richard Harding Davis has so exactly expressed it:

Reporters become star reporters because they observe things that other people miss and because they do not let it appear that they have observed them. When the great man who is being interviewed blurts out that which is indiscreet but most important, the cub reporter says: "That's most interesting, sir. I'll make a note of that." And so warns the great man into silence. But the star reporter receives the indiscreet utterance as though it bored him; and the great man does not know he has blundered until he reads of it the next morning under screaming headlines.[4]

[4] The Red Cross Girl, p. 7.

It is for such reasons that a quick perception of news even in chance remarks is a requisite for interviewing. If one does not grasp instantly the value of a bit of information, the expression of his face or his actions will give him away later when a full realization of the worth of the news comes to him, or else he will not be able to recall precisely the facts given.

75. Retentive Memory.—It is for the same reason, too, that a retentive memory is necessary. Fifty per cent of those interviewed will be frightened at the sight of a notebook. And all men become cautious when they realize that their statements are being taken down word for word. The reporter must correlate properly and keep firmly in mind the facts gleaned in the interview, then get as quickly as possible to some place where he can record what he has learned. Many an interviewer will listen a half-hour without taking a note, then spend the next half-hour on a horse-block or a curb writing down what the person interviewed has said. Other reporters with shorter memories carry pencil stubs and bits of specially cut white cardboard, and while looking the interviewed man in the eye, take down statistics and characteristic phrases on the cards. Some even, as on the stage and in the moving pictures, take occasional notes on their cuffs,—all this in an effort to make the one interviewed talk unrestrainedly.

76. Use of Shorthand.—A word may be said here concerning shorthand. Its use in interviewing and in general news reports should not be too much encouraged, even when a man is entirely willing to have his exact words recorded. Often it deadens the presentation of news. Shorthand has its value as far as accuracy and record of occasional statements are concerned, and may well be used, but its too faithful use has a tendency to take from news stories the imagination that is necessary for a complete and truthful presentation. The stenographic reporter becomes so intent upon the words of the person he is quoting that he misses the spirit of the interview and is liable to produce a formal, lifeless story. The reporter may well use shorthand as a walking cane, but not as a crutch.

77. Precise Questions in Interviews.—If one finds exactness of statement a requisite, one may obtain shorthand results by bringing along a sheet of typewritten questions for submission to the person interviewed. These questions the person must answer definitely or else evade, in either case furnishing story material. But whether a reporter comes armed with such a list of questions or not, he must at least have definitely in mind the exact purpose of his visit and the precise questions he wants answered. In the majority of cases the reason that interviewers meet with such unwelcome receptions from great men is that the latter are too busy to waste time with pottering reporters. Certainly the men themselves say so. President Wilson declares that of the visitors to the White House not one in ten knows precisely why he has come, states definitely what he wants, and leaves promptly when he has finished. Such persons are an annoyance to busy men and women, and the newspaper man who can dispatch quickly the business of his visit will more likely meet with a favorable reception next time.

78. Learning a Man's Career.—As an aid to interviewing prominent men, whether one typewrites one's questions in advance or merely determines what in general one will ask, the reporter should have a good general knowledge of the man's career and what he has accomplished in his particular field, so that the noted man may not be forced to go too much into detail to make his conversation clear to the interviewer. Some men seem annoyed when asked to explain technical terms or to review well-known incidents in their lives. Such facts may be obtained from the files of the morgue, from encyclopedias, from the Who's Who volumes, and from local men associated in the same kind of work. Frequently one will find it advisable to consult the city editor and other members of the staff, as well as local or less known men, by way of preparation for interviewing a prominent visitor.

79. Ability to Detect Falsehood.—The fifth requirement for successful interviewing, and the last to be discussed in this chapter,[5] is the ability to detect falsehood readily. All persons who talk for publication speak with a purpose. Sometimes they talk for self-exploitation; occasionally they wish to pay a grudge against another man. Sometimes their purpose is what they say it is; often it is not. Sometimes they tell the exact truth; frequently they do not, even when they think they are speaking truthfully. It may seem odd, but it is true that comparatively few of the persons one questions about even the most commonplace occurrences can give unbiased reports of events. They were too much excited over the affair to observe accurately, or they are too much prejudiced for or against the persons involved to witness judicially. The reporter, therefore, must take into consideration their mental caliber and every possible motive they may have for acting or speaking as they do. If the person who met the reporter a moment ago at Mr. Davidson's door was his wife and she refused to talk about the shooting, or said he was not shot, she evidently had a motive for her statement. And if the woman next door recounts with too much relish and in too high-pitched tones the cat-and-dog life of the Davidsons or their declared intentions each of killing the other, the reporter had better take care. She is probably venting an old-time grudge against her neighbors, whose son last month broke a window-pane in her house. Countless libel suits might have been avoided had the reporters been able to detect falsehood more readily.

[5] The value of characteristic phrases and gestures in the interview is discussed on [page 130].

80. Questioning Everyone.—Because of these sharp discrepancies in men's natures and the fact that everyone sees an event from his own individual angle, it is necessary for a reporter to question everybody in any way connected with a story. He should see not only Mr. and Mrs. Davidson, if possible, but other witnesses of the shooting, acquaintances in the neighborhood, the servants in the house, and anyone else, no matter how humble, likely in any way to be connected with or to have knowledge of the occurrence. Oftentimes a janitor, a maid, or a chauffeur will divulge facts that the mistress or the detective bureau would not disclose for large sums of money. Frequently a child in the yard or on the back steps will give invaluable information. This is particularly true when the older persons are attempting to conceal facts or are too much excited from a death or an accident to talk. Children usually are less unstrung by distressing events and can give a more connected account. Moreover, they are almost always willing to talk, and they generally try to tell the truth.

81. A Person's Previous Record.—It is also well to inquire particularly about the past history or the previous record of the person involved. If the woman is a divorcee or the man an ex-convict, or if one of the children previously has been arraigned in police court for delinquency, or if any one of the participants has ever been drawn into public notice, such items will be worth much in identifying the characters in the story. If the man whose house is burning lost another house, well insured, a year ago; if the widow has married secretly her chauffeur two months after her husband's sudden death from ptomaine poisoning; if the man who spoke last night was the preacher who declared all protestant churches will some day return to the confessional;—if such facts can be obtained, they will add greatly to the interest and the value of the story, and the reporter should make every effort to obtain them. Their interest lies, of course, either in the fact that they aid the public in identifying the persons, or that they provide material for interesting conjectures as to probable results. Sometimes, indeed, this correlation of present and past facts grows so important that it becomes the main story.

82. Full Details.—While questioning different persons in an attempt to get all the facts, one should take care to record all details. It is far easier to throw away unneeded material when writing up the events than to return to the scene for neglected information. In particular, one should learn the name and address of every person in any way connected with the story, no matter how much trouble it may require to get the information. A man who is merely incidental at the beginning of the inquiry may prove of prime importance an hour later or in the follow-up next day. Even the telephone number of persons likely in any way to become prominent—or where such persons may be reached by telephone—should be obtained. For, try as one will to get all the facts, one often needs to get additional information after returning to the office. In such a plight, it is of great value to know where a man may be reached who does not have a telephone in his own home. Pictures, too, of the persons concerned are valuable. The news-reading public likes illustrations, and whether the photograph is or is not used, it is easily returnable by next day's mail. All papers promise to return photographs unharmed.

83. Getting Names Correctly.—It would seem unnecessary to urge the necessity of getting initials and street addresses and of spelling names correctly; yet so many newspaper men err here that specific attention must be directed to it. Numerous libel suits have been started because a reporter got an initial or a street address wrong and there happened to be in the city another person with the printed name and street address. Even if the story does not contain cause for libel, a person whose name has been misspelled never quite forgives a journal for getting it wrong. The reporter should remember that many of the Smiths in the world are Smythes in print and many of the Catherines spell it Katharyne in the city directory. And such persons are sensitive.

84. Speeches.—In covering speeches the reporter should make an effort to get advance copies of what the speaker intends to say,—and a photograph of him if he is an important personage. A large per cent of the impassioned and seemingly spontaneous bursts of oratory that one hears on church, lecture, and political platforms are but verbal reproductions of typewritten manuscript in the speaker's inside coat pocket, and if the newspaper man will ask for carbon copies of the oratory, the lecturer will be glad to provide them in advance,—in order to have himself quoted correctly. He will also be glad to provide the photograph. These advance copies of speeches are called "release" stories. That is, they are marked at the top of the first page, "Release, June 12, 9:30 p.m.," meaning that no publication shall be made of that material before 9:30 p.m. of June 12. Newspapers always regard scrupulously a release date, and a reporter need never hesitate to give his word that publication of speeches, messages, and reports will be withheld until after delivery. An editor of a paper in the Middle West once thought to scoop the world by printing the President's message to Congress the evening before its delivery, but he was so promptly barred from the telegraphic wires thereafter that he paid dearly for his violation of professional honor. With these advance copies of speeches in his possession the reporter may write at his own convenience his account of the lecture; or if he is rushed—and has the permission of the city editor—he may even stay away from the meeting. On the other hand, if the speaker is of national importance, it may be well to consult with the city editor about going out fifty miles or more to catch the train on which the distinguished guest is coming. In this way one can have an interview ready for publication by the time the great man arrives and sometimes can obtain a valuable scoop on rival papers.

85. Attending Lectures. Where one is not able to get a typewritten copy of a speech, the only alternative is to attend the lecture. Newspaper men usually are provided with free tickets, which they should obtain in advance, as the rush of the lecture hour throws unexpected duties on those responsible for the program, and one may sometimes be considerably inconvenienced in getting an admission card. Inside there is generally a table close to the platform, where newspaper men may write comfortably. If the reporter has been given an advance copy of the speech, he should listen closely for any variations from the typewritten manuscript, as speakers in the excitement resulting from the applause or disapproval of the audience often lose their heads and make indiscreet statements or disclose state secrets that furnish the best story material for the paper next morning. If one does not have an advance copy, one should attempt to get the speech by topics, with occasional verbatim passages of particularly pithy or dynamic passages. As in the case of interviews, it is better not to attempt to take too much of the lecture word for word. The significance, the spirit of the address is of greater worth than mere literalness. If the city editor wants a verbatim report, he will send a stenographer.

86. A Newspaper Man's Honor.—In conclusion, emphasis may be laid on the reporter's attitude toward obtaining news. He must go after a story with the determination to get it and to get it honorably. Once he has started after an item, he must not give up until he has succeeded. But he must succeed with honor. Stories are rampant over the United States of newspaper men stealing through basement windows at night, listening at keyholes, bribing jurymen to break their oath, and otherwise transgressing the limits of law and honor. But the day of such reportorial methods has passed. To-day a newspaper expects every man on its staff to be a gentleman. It wants no lawbreakers or sneaks. Stories must be obtained honestly and written up honestly. The man who fakes a story or willfully distorts facts for the sake of injuring a man or making a good news article will be discharged from any reputable newspaper in America. And he ought to be.

VIII. ORGANIZATION OF THE STORY

87. On the Way to the Office.—The organization of the news material before beginning to write makes for speed, accuracy, and interest. On the way back to the office the reporter must employ his time as profitably as when getting the news, so that when he enters the city room he may have his facts arranged for developing into story form and may be able to hang his article on the city editor's hook in the briefest time possible.

88. Speed.—Next to accuracy, speed is a newspaper man's most valuable asset. Some journalists even put speed first, and Mr. Thomas Herbert Warren but voiced the opinion of many of the fraternity when he wrote,

Thrice blessed he whose statements we can trust,
But four times he who gets his news in fust.

When the reporter starts back to the office, he has in his pocket a mass of jumbled facts, most of which have a bearing on the prospective story, but many of which have not. Even those facts that are relevant are scattered confusedly among the different sheets, so that in order to write his story he must first rearrange his notes entirely. He may regroup these mentally while writing, by jumping with his eye up and down the pages, hunting on the backs of some sheets, and twisting his head sideways to get notes written crosswise on others. But all this takes valuable time,—so much, indeed, that the wise reporter will have on hand, either in his mind or on paper, a definite plan for his story.

89. Accuracy.—That the reorganization of one's notes preparatory to writing will aid accuracy of statement and of presentation needs little argument. To paraphrase Herbert Spencer's words on reading: A reporter has at each moment but a limited amount of mental power available. To recognize and interpret the facts recorded in his notes requires part of his power; to strike in ordered sequence the typewriter keys that will put those facts on paper requires an additional part; and only that part which remains can be used for putting his ideas into forceful, accurate sentences. Hence, the more time and attention it takes to read and understand one's notes, the less time and attention can be given to expressing the ideas, and the less vividly will those ideas be presented. Moreover, when a writer attempts to compose from jumbled notes, because of his attention being riveted on expressing clearly and forcefully what he has jotted down, he is liable to include in his story facts that do not properly belong there, or to omit some illegibly written but important item, and so fail to present the incidents fairly and accurately.

90. Interest.—Finally, the third reason for ordering one's notes carefully before writing is to insure interest to the reader. The same story almost always can be presented in several different ways. Every story, too, must possess a specific point, a raison d'être: as, the heinousness of the crime, the cleverness of the brigands, the loneliness of the widow. This point of the story, this angle from which the reporter writes, is determined largely by the writer's selection of details, which in turn is dominated by the policy of the paper and the interest of the readers. If the paper and its patrons care particularly for humorous stories, certain dolorous facts are omitted or placed in unimportant positions, and the readers have a fair but amusing view of the occurrence. If they favor sob stories, the same incident, by a different selection or arrangement of details, may be made pathetic. But the reporter must select his details with such a purpose in mind. And unless he has some such definite motive and has so organized his material before beginning to write, he will present a more or less prosaic narrative of events with little specific appeal to the reader. Of course, one oftentimes is too rushed to take so much care in preparation for writing. Frequently, indeed, a reporter cannot wait until he can get back to the office, but must telephone the facts in to a rewrite man, who will put them into story form. But it is fair to say that the discerning reporter never idles away his time in the smoking compartment of the car when returning with a story. His mind is, and should be, engrossed with the story, which he should strive to make so good that it will appear on the front page of the paper.

91. Four Orders of Organization.—In organizing material for writing, one may adopt any one or a combination of four different orders: time order, space order, climactic order, complex order. Of these, probably ninety-five per cent of all the news stories published are organized on the time order or a combination of it with one or more of the other three. Of the remaining three, probably four per cent of the stories are written in the climactic order, leaving only about one per cent for the space and complex orders. Numerous articles, of course, are a combination of two or more of these orders.

92. Time Order.—The time order is a simple chronological arrangement of the incidents, as illustrated in the following:

BOY BURNS TOES IN BED

Fearing the wrath of his father, Kenneth Cavert, 5-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. George Cavert, Rankin and Franklin streets, suffered in silence while fire in his bed Friday evening painfully burned two of his toes and caused severe burns on his body.

The lad went to bed shortly after dark Friday evening. About a half-hour later he went downstairs for a drink. A few minutes later he went down again for a drink.

Shortly afterward Mr. and Mrs. Cavert smelled cloth burning in the house, and going upstairs to investigate, found the boy in bed, wide awake, the blankets in flames, which surrounded the lad and had already seared his toes. One of the bed rails was burned almost in two and the bed clothing ruined.

The lad afterward said he went downstairs to get a mouthful of water to spit on the flames. "I spit as hard as I could," said he, "but I couldn't put out the fire."

Although he will not tell how the fire started, it is supposed he was playing with matches.[6]

[6] Appleton (Wisconsin) Daily Post, October 14, 1915.

93. Space Order.—The space order explains itself, being nothing else than descriptive writing. The following story of the Eastland disaster in 1915 illustrates the space order:

VICTIMS' PROPERTY LISTED

A line of showcases extends down the center of the public hearing room on the first floor of the city hall. Arranged for display are a hundred or more cameras of all sizes, thermos bottles, purses, hand bags, and even a snare drum.

Around the room are racks on which are hanging cloaks and coats, here a red sweater, there a white corduroy cloak. Under them are heaps of hats, mostly men's straw, obviously of this year's make. There are several hundred women's headgear, decorated with feathers and ribbons.

Along one side are piled suit cases and satchels, open for inspection. They are packed for departure with toothbrushes and toothpaste, packages of gum, tobacco and books. A dozen baseball bats are leaning against one of the pillars near the end of the showcase. There are several uniforms to be worn by bandmen. In the extreme corner, surrounded by hundreds of shoes, of all kinds, is a collapsible go-cart.

De Witt C. Cregier, city collector, stood behind one of the showcases yesterday afternoon, with a jeweler's glass, examining bits of ornament.

Piled before him in long rows were envelops. One by one, he or his assistants dumped the contents on the glass case and read off descriptions of each article to a stenographer:

"One pocket mirror, picture of girl on back; one amethyst filigree pendant; one round gold embossed bracelet; gold bow eye-glasses; Hawthorne club badge attached to fob; two $1 bills."

As the articles were listed they were put back into the envelops. Had it not been for one circumstance, it might have been a pawnshop inventory.

There was the jewelry worth more than $10,000, articles for personal use, and musical instruments. But under the long rows of coats, hats, and shoes, there was a pool of water. It dripped from the red sweater onto a straw hat beneath. It fell into shoes and the place smelled of wet leather.

When the bodies of those who perished in the Eastland disaster were removed from the water, their clothing and jewelry were taken by the police and tabulated. There was no space in the custodian's office; so he hastily fitted up the public hearing-room, brought in showcases and had carpenters build racks for the clothing....[7]

[7] Chicago Tribune, July 26, 1915.

94. Climactic Order.—The climactic order is that in which the incidents are so arranged that the reader shall not know the outcome until he reaches the last one or two sentences. The following story, though brief, illustrates well the climactic order of arrangement:

VALUED A DRESS ABOVE LIFE

First, there was the young man. One night, while they were on the way to a movie, Ambrosia noticed the young man was looking rather critically at her dress.

When one is 17 and lives in a big city where there are any number of girls just as good looking, besides a lot who are better looking, it is a serious matter when a young man begins to look critically at one's dress.

Particularly is it serious when the acquisition of a new dress is a matter of much painstaking planning; of dispensing with this or that at luncheon; of walking to work every day instead of only when the weather is fine; and of other painful sacrifices.

Ambrosia didn't say anything. She pretended she hadn't noticed the young man's look. But that night, in her room on East Thirteenth Street, Ambrosia indulged in some higher mathematics. It might as well be vouchsafed here that the address on East Thirteenth Street is 1315, and that Ambrosia's name is Dallard, and that she is an operator for the Bell Telephone Company. The net result of her calculations was that, no matter how hard she saved, she wouldn't be able to buy a new dress until December or January. Meanwhile,—but Ambrosia knew there couldn't be any meanwhile. She had to have that dress.

Ambrosia found a card, and on it was the name of a firm which ardently assured her it wanted to afford her credit. Then there was a little something about a dollar down and a dollar a week until paid for.

So Ambrosia got her dress. It had cost her $1, and it would be entirely hers when she had paid $14 more. Ambrosia wore it to a movie and the young man admiringly informed her she "was all dolled up." And everyone was happy.

One never can tell about dresses, though; particularly $15 ones. One night, when Ambrosia was wearing the new possession for the third time, it developed a long rip. The cloth was defective.

Ambrosia took the dress back. The installment firm was sorry, but could do nothing, and of course the firm expected her to keep paying for it.

Ambrosia left the dress, and went back to her old one. The young man noticed it the next time they went out together. Shortly afterward, when he should have called, he didn't. A collector for the installment house did, though. Meanwhile, Ambrosia was saving to buy another dress. She was quite emphatic about the bill from the installment house—she wouldn't pay it.

Once in awhile she saw the young man, but she didn't care for more calls until the new dress was forthcoming.

Tuesday it looked as if everything would come out all right. She had $9 saved. Wednesday she would draw her salary—$6. She knew where she could buy just what she wanted for $12.50. It was much better looking than the old dress and better material. She even made an anticipatory engagement with the young man.

Wednesday came—Ambrosia went to draw her salary. The installment house had garnisheed it.

To-day Ambrosia's job is being kept open by the telephone company, and it is thought some arrangement may be made by which the installment house will not garnishee her salary next week.

At the General Hospital she is reported as resting well. She was taken there in an ambulance yesterday afternoon after trying to kill herself by inhaling chloroform.[8]

[8] Kansas City Star, January 1, 1917.

95. Complex Order.—The complex order, sometimes called the order of increasing complication, is that in which the writer proceeds from the known to the unknown. Generally a story following this method of organization is nothing else than simple exposition. The following Associated Press story illustrates the type:

AËRIAL TORPEDO BOAT INVENTED

[By Associated Press.]

Washington, July 22.—An aërial torpedo boat for attack on ships in protected harbors is projected, it was learned to-day, in patents just issued to Rear Admiral Bradley A. Fiske, now attached to the navy war college, but formerly aid for operations to Secretary Daniels.

The plan contemplates equipping a monster aeroplane, similar to a number now under construction in this country for the British government, with a Whitehead torpedo of regulation navy type.

Swooping down at a distance of five sea miles from the object of attack, the air craft would drop its deadly passenger into the water just as it would have been launched from a destroyer. The impact sets the torpedo's machinery in motion and it is off at a speed of more than forty knots an hour toward the enemy ship.

Admiral Fiske believes the flying torpedo boat would make it possible to attack a fleet even within a landlocked harbor. The range of the newest navy torpedoes is ten thousand yards and even the older types will be effective at seven thousand yards.

Carried on a huge aeroplane, the 2,000 pound weapon would be taken over harbor defenses at an altitude safe from gunfire. Once over the bay, the machine would glide down to within ten or twenty feet of water, the torpedo rudders would be set and it would be dropped to do its work while the aeroplane arose and sped away.[9]

[9] Minneapolis Tribune, July 22, 1915.

96. Climactic Order Difficult.—Of the four organization plans, the hardest by far to develop is the climactic order, which should be avoided by young reporters. This method of arrangement is on the short-story order, and the beginner will find it difficult to group his incidents so that each shall lead up to and explain those following and at the same time add to the reader's interest. Some papers as yet admit only rarely the story developed climactically, but it is growing in popularity and the reporter should know how to handle it.

97. Important Details.—With the climactic order of arrangement eliminated, the reporter is practically limited to the simple time order, or a combination of it with one of the other two kinds,—which is the normal type of story. But he must keep in mind one other factor,—to place the most important details first and the least important last. There are two reasons why this method of arrangement is necessary. In the first place, readers want all the main details first, so that they may learn immediately whether or not they are interested in the story and if it will be worth their while to read the whole article. They are too busy to read everything in the paper; they can choose only those stories that excite their interest. If, therefore, they can learn in the first paragraph what the whole story is about, they will not be delayed and fatigued unnecessarily by reading non-essentials with the hope of finding something worth while.

98. Unimportant Details.—The second reason for such an organization is that stories appearing in the early editions have to be cut down to fit into the more valuable and limited space of the later issues. At the beginning of the day news is relatively scarce, and the front-page, left-hand column of the first edition may carry a story that will be cut in half in the city edition and be relegated to an inside page. More important news has come in as the day has aged. A reporter, therefore, must plan his stories with a view to having the last part, if necessary, cut off,—so that, indeed, if the news editor should prune the story down to only the first paragraph, the reader would still be given the gist of what has happened. Note the following story, how it may be cut off at any paragraph and still present a perfect, though less imposing whole:

SCHOOLBOY SUES BRIDE, AGED 40

Villisca, Ia., Dec. 27.—Claude Bates, 17 years old and formerly of Villisca, has brought suit in Polk county for the annulment of his marriage to the widow Patrick, 40 years old and the mother of four children, two of whom are older than their stepfather.

Bates is still in school, and became acquainted with the widow when he went to her home to call on one of her daughters. According to the petition, young Bates made such a hit with the mother of his best girl that she herself fell in love with him, and was soon a rival of her own daughter. The older woman knew many tricks with which the daughter was unacquainted, and in the end she managed to "bag" the game.

The marriage, which took place in Chicago, was kept a secret even after the couple returned home, and it was not until young Bates told the whole story to his mamma a few days ago that his family had an inkling of the true state of affairs. Now the suit has been filed by the boy's mother, because the young husband himself is too young to go into court without a guardian.

As one of the causes of the suit, the petition cites that Bates was inveigled into the marriage through "the wiles, artifices, and protestations of love" on the part of the widow. Furthermore, the petition charges that the two were married under assumed names, that their ages were falsely given, and that their residences, as given the marriage clerk, were false.

According to the petition, young Bates was attending school, where he met Mrs. Patrick's daughter and fell in love with her. He called at the house and met the mother, who was divorced from her first husband some ten years ago. There were four of the Patrick children, their ages being 13, 15, 17, and 20 years. Bates himself was just 15 at that time. The petition sets up that almost immediately after becoming acquainted with Mrs. Patrick the latter began her attempts to induce young Bates to marry her.[10]

[10] Des Moines Register, December 27, 1914.

99. Accuracy of Presentation.—One very definite caution must be given concerning the organization of the story,—the necessity of presenting facts with judicial impartiality. When the reporter is arranging his material preparatory to writing, casting away a note here and jotting down another there, he can easily warp the whole narrative by an unfair arrangement of details or a prejudiced point of view. Frequently a story may be woefully distorted by the mere suppression of a single fact. A newspaper man has no right willfully to keep back information or to distort news. Unbiased stories, or stories as nearly unbiased as possible, are what newspapers want. And while one may legitimately order one's topics to produce a particular effect of humor, pathos, joy, or sorrow, one should never allow the desire for an effect to distort the presentation of the facts.

IX. THE LEAD[11]

[11] Before reading this chapter, the student should examine the style book in the Appendix, particularly that part dealing with the preparation of copy for the city desk.

100. Instructions from the City Editor.—Before beginning the story, the reporter should stop at the city editor's desk, give him in as few words as possible an account of what he has learned, and ask for instructions about handling the story, about any feature or features to play up. The city editor may not offer any advice at all, may simply say to write the story for what it is worth. In such a case, the reporter is at liberty to go ahead as he has planned; and he should have his copy on the city editor's desk within a very few minutes. The city editor, however, may tell him to feature a certain incident and to write it up humorously. If the reporter has observed keenly, he himself will already have chosen the same incident and may still proceed with the writing as he planned on the way back to the office. A careful study of instructions given reporters will quickly convince one, however, that in nine cases out of ten the city editor takes his cue from the reporter himself, that in the reporter's very mood and method of recounting what he has learned, he suggests to the city editor the features and the tone of the story, and is merely given back his own opinion verified. Not always is this the case, however. One reporter on a Southern daily—and a star man, too—used to say that he could never predict what his city editor would want featured. So he used always to come into the office armed with two leads, and sometimes with three.

101. Two Kinds of Leads.—The story, technically, is [A]made up of two parts—the lead and the body. The lead is easily the more important. If a reporter can handle successfully this part of the story, he will have little trouble in writing the whole. The lead is the first sentence or the first group of sentences in the story and is of two kinds, the summarizing lead and what may be called the informal lead. The summarizing lead gives in interesting, concise language the gist of the story. The informal lead merely introduces the reader to the story without intimating anything of the outcome, but with a suggestion that something interesting is coming. Of the two types the summarizing lead is by far the more common and may be considered first.

102. Summarizing Lead.—The summarizing lead may be a single sentence or a single paragraph, or two or three paragraphs, according to the number and complexity of the details in the story. A brief story usually has a short lead. A long, involved story made up of several parts, each under a separate head, often has a lead consisting of several paragraphs. Sometimes this lead, because of its importance as a summary of all the details in the story, is even boxed and printed in black-face type at the beginning of the story. Then follow the different parts, each division with its own individual lead.

103. Contents of the Lead.—What to put into the lead,—or to feature, as reporters express it in newspaper parlance,—one may best determine by asking oneself what in the story is likely to be of greatest interest to one's readers in general. Whatever that feature is, it should be played up in the lead. The first and great commandment in news writing is that the story begin with the most important fact and give all the essential details first. These details are generally summarized in the questions who, what, when, where, why, and how. If the writer sees that his lead answers these questions, he may be positive that, so far as context is concerned, his lead will be good.

104. Construction of the Lead.—In constructing the lead, the most important fact or facts should be put at the very first. For this reason, newspaper men avoid beginning a story with to-day, to-morrow, or yesterday, because the time at which an incident has occurred is rarely the most important fact. For the same reason, careful writers avoid starting with the, an, or a, though it often is necessary to begin with these articles because the noun they modify is itself important. The name of the place, too, rarely ever is of enough importance to be put first. An examination of a large number of leads in the best newspapers shows that the features most often played up are the result and the cause or motive. Thus:

Result

As a result of too much thanksgiving on Thanksgiving Day, Prof. Harry Z. Buith, 42, 488 Sixteenth Street, a prominent Seventh Day Adventist, is dead.

Cause

Just plain ordinary geese and a few ganders held up a train on the Milwaukee road to-day and forced their owner, Nepomcyk Kucharski, 1287 Fourth Avenue, into district court.

Cause and Result

Because Harry A. Harries, 24, 2518 North Avenue, wanted two dollars for a license to marry Anna Francis, 17, 4042 Peachtree Avenue, his aged mother is dying this morning in St. Elizabeth Hospital.

Sometimes, particularly in follow or rewrite stories, probable results become the feature.

Probable Results

That immediate intervention in Mexico by the United States will be the result of the Villa raid last night on Columbus, N.M., is the general belief in official Washington this morning.

Another feature often played up in leads is the means or method by which a result was attained.

Means

A sensational half-mashie shot to the lip of the cup on the eighteenth green won to-day for Mrs. Roland H. Barlow, of the Merion Cricket Club, Philadelphia, over Miss Lillian B. Hyde, of the South Shore Field Club, Long Island, in the second round of the women's national golf championship tournament at the Onwentsia Club.

Method

Working at night with a tin spoon and a wire nail, Capt. Wilhelm Schuettler dug 100 feet to liberty and escaped from the Hallamshire camp sometime early this morning.

Often it is necessary to feature the name:

Name

Cardinal Giacomo della Chiesa, archbishop of Bologna, Italy, was to-day elected supreme pontiff of the Catholic hierarchy, in succession to the late Pope Pius X, who died Aug. 20. He will reign under the name of Benedict XV.

Name

President Wilson and Mrs. Norman Galt have selected Saturday, Dec. 18, as the date of their marriage. The ceremony will be performed in Mrs. Galt's residence, and the guests will be confined to the immediate members of the President's and Mrs. Galt's families.

Even the place and the time have to be featured occasionally.

Place

New Orleans will be the place of the annual meeting of the Southern Congress of Education and Industry, it was learned from a member of the Executive committee to-day.

Place

Chicago was selected by the Republican National committee to-night as the meeting place of the 1916 Republican national convention, to be held June 7, one week before the Democratic convention in St. Louis.

Time

Monday, Sept. 20, is the date finally set for the opening of the State Fair, it was announced by the Program Committee to-day.

105. Form of the Lead.—The grammatical form in which the lead shall be written depends much on the purpose of the writer. Some of the commonest types of beginnings are with: (1) a simple statement; (2) a series of simple statements; (3) a conditional clause; (4) a substantive clause; (5) an infinitive phrase; (6) a participial phrase; (7) a prepositional phrase; (8) the absolute construction.

106. Leads with Short Sentences.—The value of the first two kinds is their forcefulness. Often reporters break what might be a long, one-sentence, summarizing lead into a very short sentence followed by a long one, or into a number of brief sentences, each of which gives one important detail. Such a type of lead gains its force from the fact that it lends emphasis to the individual details given in the short sentences. Note the effect of the following leads:

Oak Park Has a "Typhoid Mary"

The epidemic of fever that has been sweeping through the western suburb since the high school banquet more than a month ago was traced yesterday to a woman carrier who handled the food in the school restaurant.

George Edward Waddell, our famous "Rube," fanned out to-day. It was not the first time Rube had fanned, but it will be his last. Tuberculosis claimed him after a two-year fight.

If Mrs. Mary McCormick sneezes or coughs, she will die. Her back was broken yesterday by a fall from a third-story window. Thomas Wilson is being held under a $5,000 bond pending her death or recovery, charged by the police with pushing her from the window.

107. Lead Beginning with a Conditional Clause—The lead beginning with a conditional clause is valuable for humorous effects or for summarizing facts leading up to a story. As a rule, however, one must avoid using more than two such clauses, as they are liable to make the sentence heavy or obscure.

If Antony Fisher, 36, 1946 Garden Street, had not written Dorothy Clemens she was a "little love," he would be worth $1,000,000 now. But he wrote Dorothy she was a little love.

If Joe Kasamowitz, 4236 Queen's Avenue, speaks to his wife either at her home or at the news-stand she conducts at the St. Paul Hotel; if he loiters near the entrance to the hotel; or if he even attempts to call his wife over the telephone before Saturday, he will be in contempt of court, according to an injunction issued to-day by Judge Fish.

108. Lead Beginning with a Substantive Clause.—The substantive clause has two main values in the lead,—to enable the writer to begin with a direct or an indirect question, and to permit him to shift to the very beginning of the lead important ideas that would normally come at the end of the sentence.

That Jim Jeffries was the greatest fighter in the history of pugilism and Jim Corbett the best boxer, was the statement last night by Bob Fitzsimmons before a crowd of 5,000 at the Orpheum theater.

That he had refused to kiss her on her return from a long visit and had said he was tired of being married, was the testimony of Mrs. Flora Eastman to-day in her divorce suit against Edwin O. Eastman, of St. Louis.

109. Lead Beginning with a Phrase.—Infinitive, participial, and prepositional phrases are valuable mainly for bringing out emphatic details. But the writer must be careful, particularly in participial constructions, to see that the phrases have definite words to modify.

To see if the bullet was coming was the reason Charlie Roberts, aged 7, 2626 Ninth Street, looked down his father's pistol barrel at 8:00 a.m. to-day.

Playing with a rifle longer than his body, three-year-old Ernest Rodriguez, of Los Angeles, accidentally shot himself in the abdomen this morning and is dying in the county hospital.

Almost blinded with carbolic acid, Fritz Storungot, of South Haven, groped his way to Patrolman Emil Schulz at Third Street and Brand Avenue last night and begged to be sent to the Emergency Hospital.

With her hands and feet tied, Ida Elionsky, 16, swam in the roughest kind of water through Hell Gate yesterday, landing safely at Blackwell's Island.

110. Lead Beginning with Absolute Construction.—The absolute construction usually features causes and motives forcibly, but it should be avoided by beginners, as it is un-English and tends to make sentences unwieldy. The following illustrates the construction well:

Her money gone and her baby starving, Mrs. Kate Allen, 8 Marvin Alley, begged fifteen cents of a stranger yesterday to poison herself and child.

111. Accuracy and Interest in the Lead.—The two requirements made of the lead are that it shall possess accuracy and interest. It must have accuracy for the sake of truth. It must possess interest to lure the reader to a perusal of the story. Toward an attainment of both these requirements the reporter will have made the first step if he has organized his material rightly, putting at the beginning those facts that will be of most interest to his readers.

112. Clearness.—But the reporter will still fail of his purpose if he neglects to make his lead clear. He must guard against any construction or the inclusion of any detail that is liable to blur the absolute clarity of his initial sentences. In particular, he must be wary of overloaded leads, those crowded with details. It is better to cut such leads into two or more short, crisp sentences than to permit them to be published with the possibility of not being understood. If a reader cannot grasp readily the lead, the chances are nine out of ten that he will not read the story. Note the following overloaded lead and its improvement by being cut into three sentences:

Barely able to see out of her swollen and discolored eyes, and her face and body covered with cuts and bruises, received, it is alleged, when her father attacked her because of her failure to secure work, Mary Ellis, 15 years old, living at 1864 Brown Street, when placed on the witness stand Monday, told a story which resulted in Peter Ellis, her father, being arrested on a charge of assault with intent to do great bodily harm.

Charged with beating unmercifully his daughter, Mary, 15, because she could not obtain work, Peter Ellis, 1864 Brown Street, was arraigned in police court Monday. The girl herself appeared against Ellis. Her body, when she appeared on the witness stand, was covered with cuts and bruises, her face black from the alleged blows, and her eyes so much swollen that she could hardly see.

The following lead, too, is overloaded and all but impossible to understand:

Two letters written by H. M. Boynton, an advertising agent for the Allen-Procter Co., to "Dear Louise," in which he confessed undying love and which are replete with such terms of endearment as "little love," "dear beloved," "sweetheart," "honey," and just plain "love," and which were alleged by him to have been forged by his wife, Mrs. Hannah Benson Boynton, obtained a divorce for her yesterday in district court on the grounds of alienated affections.

Few readers would wade through this maze of shifted constructions and heavy, awkward phrasing for the sake of the divorce story following. In the following form, however, it readily becomes clear:

Two love letters to "Dear Louise" cost H. M. Boynton, advertising agent for the Allen-Procter Co., a wife yesterday in district court. The letters were produced by Mrs. Hannah Benson Boynton to support her charge of alienated affections, and were replete with such terms of endearment as "undying love," "honey," "sweetheart," "dear beloved," "little love," and just plain "love." Boynton claimed that the letters were forged.

113. Boxed Summaries and Features.—When a story is unusually long and complicated and the number of details numerous, or when important points or facts need particular emphasis, it is customary to make a digest of the principal items and box them in display type before the regular lead. Boxed summaries at the beginning of a story are really determined by the city editor and the copy readers, but a grouping of the outstanding facts for boxing is often a welcome suggestion and a valuable help to the sub-editors. If the reporter is in doubt about the need of a boxed summary, he may make it on a separate sheet and place it on the city editor's desk along with the regular story. Types of stories that most frequently have boxed summaries are accidents, with lists of the dead and the injured in bold-face type; important athletic and sporting events, with summaries of the records, the crowds in attendance, the gate receipts, etc.; speeches, trials, and executions, with epigrams and the most important utterances of the judges, lawyers, witnesses, or defendants; international diplomatic letters, with the main points of discussion or most threatening statements; lengthy governmental reports, etc. An illustration of the boxed summary is the following, featuring the last statement of Charles Becker, the New York police lieutenant, electrocuted in 1915 for the death of Herman Rosenthal:

POLICE OFFICER PAYS PENALTY WITH HIS LIFE

"MY DYING STATEMENT."

"Gentlemen: I stand before you in my full senses, knowing that no power on earth can save me from the grave that is to receive me. In the face of that, in the face of those who condemn me, and in the presence of my God and your God, I proclaim my absolute innocence of the foul crime for which I must die.

"You are now about to witness my destruction by the state which is organized to protect the lives of the innocent. May almighty God pardon everyone who has contributed in any degree to my untimely death. And now on the brink of my grave, I declare to the world that I am proud to have been the husband of the purest, noblest woman that ever lived,—Helen Becker.

"This acknowledgment is the only legacy I can leave her. I bid you all good-bye. Father, I am ready to go. Amen."

"CHARLES BECKER."

Ossining, N. Y., July 30.—At peace with his Maker, a prayer on his lips, but with never a faltering of his iron will, Charles Becker expiated the murder of Herman Rosenthal at 5:55 this morning. Pinned on his shirt above his heart, he carried with him the picture of his devoted wife. In his hand he clutched the crucifix.

The death current cut off in his throat the whisper, "Jesus have mercy." It was not the plea of a man shaken and fearful of death, but rather the prayer of one with the conviction that he was innocent.

Just before he entered the death chamber he declared to Father Curry, "I am not guilty by deeds, conspiracy or any other way of the death of Rosenthal. I am sacrificed for my friends." Previously at 4 a.m. he issued "My Dying Statement." It was a passionate reiteration of innocence, and is left as his only legacy to his wife: "I declare to the world that I am proud to have been the husband of the purest, noblest woman that ever lived,—Helen Becker."

Absolute quiet reigned in the death house at 5.50 a.m. Suddenly the little green door swung open. Becker appeared. He had no air of bravado. Behind him in the procession came Fathers Cashin and Curry. Becker walked unassisted to the death chamber. As he entered he glanced about, seemingly surprised. His face had the expression of a person coming from darkness into sudden light, but there was no hint of hesitancy to meet death in the stride with which he approached the chair which had already claimed the lives of four others in payment for the Rosenthal murder.

The doomed man held a black crucifix in his left hand. It was about ten inches long, and as he calmly took his place in the chair, he raised it to his lips. Following the chant of the priests, he entoned, "Oh, Lord, assist me in my last agony. I give you my heart and my soul."

When all was ready, the executioner stepped back and in full view of the witnesses calmly shut the switch. As the great current of electricity shot into the frame of the former master of gunmen, the big body straightened out, tugging at the creaking straps. For a few moments it stretched out. A slight sizzling was heard and a slight curl of smoke went up from the right side of Becker's head, rising from under the cap. When the shock was at its height, his grip tightened to the crucifix, but as the electrocutioner snapped the switch off the cross slipped from the relaxed fingers. A guard caught it. The whole body dropped to a position of utter collapse.

Becker's shirt was then opened. As the black cloth was turned back to make way for the stethoscope, the picture of Mrs. Becker was revealed. It was pinned inside. The doctors pushed it aside impatiently, evidently not knowing what it was. They held stethoscopes to the heart. Another shock was demanded of the cool young executioner. He stepped back and swung the switch open and shut again. The crumpled body clutched the straps again. Once more the doctors felt his heart. They seemed to argue whether there was still evidence of life. Once again the executioner was appealed to and once again he snapped on and off the switch. The lips then parted in a smile. The stethoscope was applied and it was declared that Becker was dead....[12]

[12] George R. Holmes, of the United Press Associations, in The Appleton Post, July 30, 1915.

114. Informal Lead.—The opposite of the summarizing lead is the informal, or suspense, lead. This type begins with a question, a bit of verse, a startling quotation, or one or two manifestly unimportant details that tell little and yet whet the appetite of the reader, luring him to the real point of interest later in the story. Such leads, sometimes known as "human interest" leads, are admittedly more difficult than those of the summarizing type, their difficulty being but one effect of the cause which makes them necessary. An examination of a large number of these leads shows that their purpose is to make attractive news that for some cause is lacking in interest. Most frequently the news is old; often it is merely commonplace; or possibly it may have come from such a distance that it lacks local interest. In such cases the aid of the informal lead is invoked for the purpose of stimulating the reader's interest and inducing him to read the whole story. And this explains the difficulty of the informal lead. Its originality must compensate for the poverty of the news it presents. It must be more attractive, more striking, more piquant than the ordinary lead. And the only ways of obtaining this attractiveness, this piquancy, are by novelty of approach and of statement.[13]

[13] For an additional discussion of the informal lead, see Chapter XIX.

115. Question Lead.—A few illustrations of informal leads will make clearer their exact nature. First may be cited the question lead, two examples of which are given below, with enough of the story appended in each case to show the method of enticing the reader into the story.

How long can the war last?

It's a fool question, because there is no certain answer. But when there is an unanswerable question, it is the custom to look up precedents. Here are a few precedents....

If you planned to wed in September and married in July just to suit your own convenience, would you be provoked if your dear neighbors immediately seated themselves and wove a beautiful romance out of it?

Grace Elliott Bomarie, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Elliott Bomarie, of 930 Lawrence Avenue, and sister of Bessie Bomarie, former famous champion golf player, was not angry to-day. Instead she laughed the merriest kind of a laugh over the telephone and said:

"Call me up in half an hour and I will tell you all about it."

But she didn't. On the recall (that's the proper word in this day of equal suffrage), she was not at home. Mrs. Bomarie was, and said:

"Please just say that Mr. and Mrs. Charles Elliott Bomarie announce the marriage of their daughter, Grace Elliott, to Mr. Albert Wingate."

116. Verse Lead.—The lead beginning with a bit of verse is more difficult than the question lead because of the uncertainty with which most persons write metrical lines. The following may serve as a fairly successful attempt:

U. S. JACKIES WANT MAIL

Perhaps you've seen a jolly tar
A-pushing at the capstan bar
Or swabbing off the deck,
And figured that a life of ease
Attends the jackie on the seas
Who draws a U. S. check.
His lot, it seems, is not quite so;
Just hear this plaintive plea of woe
That comes from off the Buffalo.
The sailors rise to raise a wail
Because they say they get no mail.

Will some Milwaukee misses in their spare moments do Uncle Sam a favor by writing letters to cheer up some of his downhearted nephews in the navy?

The boys are just pining away from lonesomeness, owing to the fact that no one writes to them. At least this is the sorrowful plea of G. H. Jones, a sailor aboard the U. S. S. Buffalo, who writes The Sentinel from San Francisco as follows:

Girls—Why not use some of your idle moments in writing to us? I have been in the navy five years and have never received any mail. G. H. Jones, U. S. S. Buffalo, San Francisco, Cal.[14]

[14] Milwaukee Sentinel, August 7, 1914.

117. Extraordinary Statement in Lead.—An extraordinary statement made by a person in a speech, an interview, or a trial scene is often used in the informal lead. If, however, the quoted statement is so long or of such a nature that it summarizes the whole story, it places the lead, of course, not in the informal class, but in the normal summarizing group. The following illustrates well the extraordinary statement:

FRIEND WIFE WENT TOO FAR

Mr. David Elliott,

Chicago.

Sir:

You can go to the d——l, and the quicker the better.

Sincerely,

Your Wife.

This is the letter in which David Elliot thinks his wife "went too far." He produced it before Judge David Matchett Saturday in a suit for divorce.

118. Suspense Lead.—The most difficult to handle of all the informal leads is the suspense lead, where the writer purposely begins with unimportant but enticing details and lures the reader on from paragraph to paragraph, always holding out a half-promise of something worth while if one will continue a bit further. In this way the reader is tempted to the middle or end of the story before he is told the real point of the article. A difficult type of lead, this, but forceful when well handled.

Pierre L. Corbin, 60 years old, of Eatontown, who runs a dairy and drives his own milk wagon, matched the speed of his horse against that of a New Jersey Central train yesterday morning at 7 o'clock in a race to the crossing at Eatontown. It was a tie. Both got there at the same time.[15]

[15] New York Times, August 27, 1915.

There are two ways of patching a pair of trousers,—neatly and bluey; and probably no tailor in Manhattan is as certain of it to-day as Sigmund Steinbern. So he stated to the police yesterday when a customer sat him down on his lighted gas stove, and so he insisted last night when friends called to see him at the Washington Heights Hospital. Furthermore, to say nothing of moreover, he is a tailor of standing, or will be for the next couple of weeks, and he knows his place. It is not, he feels, upon a gas stove.

To friends who called at the hospital to ask Mr. Steinbern exactly what had happened to him, he said, by way of changing the subject, that he has a sign in his store upon which the following appears:

Everything Done in a Hurry

There, he contends, lies the seed of the trouble. Regarding the seat of the trouble, more anon....[16]

[16] New York Herald, December 21, 1915.

119. Tone.—No matter which of the two types of lead one uses, whether the summarizing or the informal, one point further needs attention in the writing,—the value of constructing such a lead as will suggest the tone of the story. Half the leads that one reads in the daily papers do not possess this touchstone of superiority, but all the leads to the big stories have it. If the article is to be pathetic, tragic, humorous, mildly satirical, the lead should suggest it; and the reporter will find that in proportion as he is able to imbue his lead with the story-tone he aims at in his writing, so will be the success of his story. This topic is discussed further in the next chapter, but the reader may consider at this point the two following leads, in which one plainly promises a story of pathos and tragedy; the other, half-serious humor:

DIED—Claus, Santa, in the American Hospital, Christmas morning, aged 11.

Santa Claus, who wasn't such an old fellow after all, overslept on the great morning. He had gone to bed plain Vern Olson—not in a toy shop at the North Pole, but in a little room behind his widowed mother's delicatessen shop at 111 South Robey Street.

The cause of the high cost of living has been discovered. It's pie,—plain pie. Teeny Terss, who runs a Greek restaurant on Hodel Street, made the announcement to-day.

120. Conclusion.—Of the two types of lead, the beginner is advised to attempt at first only the summary lead, relying on the excellence of the news to carry the story. This kind of lead is definite. A reporter always can know when his lead answers the questions who, what, when, where, why, and how. And if he has presented his facts clearly in the lead, he may feel a certain degree of assurance that he has been successful. In writing the informal lead, on the contrary, one can never be positive of anything or of any effect. (And it is a particular effect for which the reporter always must strive in the informal lead.) Climax and suspense are such elusive spirits that if a writer but give evidence he is seeking them, he immediately loses them. The only safe plan for the novice, therefore, is to confine himself at first exclusively to the summarizing lead. Then as his hand becomes sure, he may take ventures with the elusive, informal, or suspense, lead.

X. THE BODY OF THE STORY

121. Inaccuracy and Dullness.—If the reporter has written a strong lead for his story, he need have small worry about what shall follow, which usually is little more than a simple narration of events in chronological order, with interspersions of explanation or description. If a wise choice and arrangement has been made in the organization of details, the part of the story following the lead will all but tell itself. The reporter's care now must be to maintain the interest he has developed in the lead and to regard the accuracy of succeeding statements. There are just two crimes of which a newspaper man may be guilty,—inaccuracy and dullness. And the greater of these is inaccuracy.

122. Accuracy.—When a reporter is publishing a choice bit of scandal or a remarkable instance of disregarded duty, it is an easy thing, for the sake of making the story a good one, or for lack of complete information, to draw on the imagination or to jump too readily at conclusions, and so present as facts not only what may be untrue, but what often later proves entirely false. The ease of the thing is argued by the frequency with which it is done. Such a reporter does a threefold harm: he compels his paper to humiliate itself later by publishing the truth; he causes the public to lose confidence in his journal; and he does irreparable injury to unknown, innocent persons. The day following the Eastland disaster in 1915, one Chicago paper ran the list of dead up to eighteen hundred. A week later the same paper was forced to put the number at less than nine hundred. A rival publication in the same city kept its estimate consistently in the neighborhood of nine hundred, with the resultant effect to-day of increased public confidence in its statements. In another city of the Middle West judgment for $10,000 has recently been granted a complainant because one of the city staff made a rash statement about the plaintiff's "illicit love." The reporter was discharged, of course, but that did not repair the damage or reimburse the paper.

123. Law of Libel.—Every newspaper man, as a matter of business, should know the law of libel. It varies somewhat in different states, but the following brief summary may be taken as a working basis until the reporter can gain an opportunity to study it in his own state. In the first place, the law holds responsible not only the owners of the journal, but the publisher, the editor, the writer of the offending article, and even any persons selling the paper, provided it can be proved that they were aware of the matter contained in the publication. What constitutes libel is equally far-reaching. It is any published matter that tends to disgrace or degrade a person generally, or to subject him to public distrust, ridicule, or contempt. Any written article that implies or may be generally understood to imply reproach, dishonesty, scandal, or ridicule of or against a person, or which tends to subject such a person to social disgrace, public distrust, hatred, ridicule, or contempt, is libelous. Even the use in an article of ironical or sarcastic terms indicating scorn or contempt is libelous, because such expressions are calculated to injure the persons of whom they are spoken. And if an article contains several expressions, each of which is libelous, each may be a separate cause for legal action. Nor is it a defense to prove that such rumors were current, that such statements were previously published, or even that the writer did not intend the remarks to do injury. If it can be proved that the article has done injury, the writer and his paper are guilty of libel and must pay damages in accordance with the enormity of the offense.

124. Avoidance of Libel.—When it becomes necessary to make a statement about a person that may be unpleasing to him, the writer should give the name of the one making the charge or assertion, or else avoid making a specific charge by inserting it is alleged, it is rumored, it is charged, or some such limiting phrase. Note the following story of the arrest of two shop-girls and how skilfully the reporter avoids charging them with theft:

CHARGE TWO WITH SHOPLIFTING

Edna K. Whitter and Minnie Jensen, saleswomen in a New Haven store, are under arrest charged with shoplifting.

The former is said to have confessed after goods valued at more than $1,000 were found in her room. She is said to have implicated Miss Jensen, who denies the charge.

Desire to dress elaborately is alleged to have caused the young women to steal. Miss Jensen is the daughter of a farmer. Investigations by detectives, it is said, may result in more arrests....

Whenever possible, it is well to avoid it is said, it is rumored. A story reads more convincingly when the reporter's authority is given. And the statement of the authority places the responsibility where it belongs.

125. Exaggeration.—One word further about the Eastland disaster and loss of public confidence resulting from exaggerated stories. Upon the news article itself there is a very definite effect of such exaggeration,—that mere extravagance of statement often defeats its own end. It is of first importance in writing that one's statements command the confidence of the reader. If a reporter writes that the wreck he has just visited was the greatest in the history of railroading, or the bride the most beautiful ever joined in the bonds of holy wedlock before a hymeneal altar, or the flames the most lurid that ever lit a midnight sky, the reader merely snickers and turns to a story he can believe. The value of understatement cannot be overestimated. Probably the majority of the people of the United States are suspicious anyway of the truth of what they read in the newspapers. Hence, if one must sin on the side of accurate valuation of news, let him err in favor of understatement rather than exaggeration. Then when he is forced by actual facts to resort to huge figures, his readers will believe him. Such a policy, consistently adhered to, will always win favor for a paper and a reporter. And that the best papers have learned this is proved by the fact that they no longer tolerate inaccuracy of statement or unverified information in their columns.

126. "Editorializing."—One other caution must be given in the cause of accuracy, that of the necessity of presenting news from an unbiased standpoint, of eliminating as far as possible the personal equation,—in other words, of avoiding "editorializing." The news columns are the place for the colorless presentation of news. No attempt is, or should be, made there to influence public opinion. That function is reserved for the editorial columns, and the reporter must be careful not to let his personal views color the articles he writes. The following story was written for a small Wisconsin paper by a rabid political reporter:

THOMAS MORRIS IN TOWN

Thomas Morris, lieutenant governor of this state and candidate for the United States senate, was in Appleton this morning and spent the day in Outagamie county shaking hands with those who would. But few would shake. He wanted to speak while here, but the enlightened citizens of this city were right in not letting him. Peter Tubits was his chief pilot through the county.

Needless to say, this story was not printed.

127. Newspaper Policies.—Even though it may seem—and in a measure is—in contradiction to what has just been said about accuracy and editorializing, it is nevertheless necessary before passing the subject to comment on the necessity of a reporter's observing a paper's editorial policies,—to say, in other words, that all news is not unbiased. For instance, if a newspaper is undertaking a crusade against midwives or pawnshops or certain political leaders, it gives those institutions or those persons little or no credit for the good they accomplish, nor does it feature impartially in its news articles their good and bad acts. Yet such institutions or persons must have accomplished much good to arrive at the rank or position they now hold, and must continue to be of service to retain their standing. The following story, which appeared in a paper crusading against pawnshops and pistol carrying, is an illustration of what is meant by biased news:

JILTED, ENDS LIFE WITH A GUN

Israel Weilman was in love. Three months ago the girl told him she would not marry him. Last night Weilman left his quarters at 875 Banker Street and went to the home of Rebecca Schussman, 904 South Pueblo Avenue, where his room-mate and cousin, David Isaacs, was calling.

"Here are the keys to the room," he told his cousin, "I will not be home to-night."

Then Weilman departed. A few minutes later a shot was heard in the alley back of the Schussman home. They found Weilman dead with a bullet wound through his heart. Beside him was a new "American bulldog" revolver, retailing for $1.50. In his pocket was a ticket of sale from the Angsgewitz pawnshop. The profit on this style of weapon is about 25 cents.

Illustrations of prejudiced political news may be found daily in any newspaper.

128. Observing a Paper's Policies.—It is necessary, therefore, to modify the preceding statements about unbiased news. Those assertions express the millennial dream, colorless news, that American journalism is always approaching as an ideal, but has not yet reached. From the same Associated Press dispatch a Georgia and a Pennsylvania daily can produce stories respectively of success and dissension in the Democratic party. From the same cable bulletin a Milwaukee and a New York paper can obtain German victory and English repulse of repeated Teutonic attacks. Not only can, but do. It is only fair to the would-be reporter, therefore, to tell him that at times in his journalistic career he may be permitted to see snow only through a motorist's yellow goggles. The modern newspaper is a business organization run for the profit or power of the owners, with the additional motive in the background of possible social uplift,—social uplift as the owners see it. They determine a paper's policies, and a reporter must learn and observe those policies if he expects to succeed.

129. Following Commands.—Observance of this injunction is particularly valuable in stories relating to political and civic measures. If one is on a paper with Republican affiliations, one may be forced to hear and report a G. O. P. governor's speech with an elephant's ears and trumpet,—or with a moose's ears and voice if the journal is Progressive. It makes no difference what the reporter's personal feeling or party preferences may be. On such papers he must follow precisely the commands of the managing editor or the city editor and must feature sympathetically or severely what they request. Usually an intelligent sympathy with the general policy of the paper is sufficient for a reporter, no matter how conscientious. It is only rarely that he is trammeled with being forced to write contrary to his convictions. But at those times when such commands are given, he must see and write as requested or seek another position.

130. Consistency of Policy.—On the other hand, suppose in policies affecting the official standing of a newspaper every reporter saw and presented events from his own distorted angle. How consistent would a modern newspaper be? And how long could it hold the respect or patronage of its readers?

131. Clearness.—Next in importance to accuracy comes interest. A story must be interesting to be read. Every paragraph must be clear. Its relation to every other paragraph must be evident, and the story as a whole must be presented so that it may be understood and enjoyed by the reader with as small expenditure of mental effort as possible. Ideas that are connected in thought, either by virtue of their sequence in time or for other reasons, must be kept together, and ideas that are separated in thought must be kept apart. If the story is one covering considerable length of time, care must be taken to keep the different incidents separated in point of time so that the reader may understand readily the relation of the different events to each other. The tenses of the verbs, too, must be kept consistent, logical. One cannot shift at will from past time to the present, and vice versa. If the story is a follow-up of an event that occurred before to-day and has been written up before, the body of the story should contain a sufficient summary of the preceding events to make the details readily clear to all readers,—even though the lead may already have included a connecting link. The summary of events in the lead must necessarily have been brief; the review in the body of the story may be presented at greater length.

132. Coherence.—A valuable aid in gaining clearness is a proper regard for coherence, for obtaining which there are four ways within a story: (1) by arrangement of the facts and statements in a natural sequence of ideas; (2) by use of pronouns; (3) by repetition; and (4) by use of relation words, phrases, and clauses. Discussion has already been given, in Chapter VIII, on the organization of material, of the necessity of logical arrangement of the story. If one has made a proper grouping there, one will have taken the first step, and the surest, toward adequate coherence. Of the three remaining methods, probably the greatest newspaper men are strongest in their use of pronouns, such as these, those, that, them, etc. They also avail themselves freely of a skillful repetition of words,—the third method, which stands almost, but not quite equal to the use of pronouns in effectiveness and frequency. The following fire story exhibits a happy repetition of words for holding the ideas in easy sequence. Note in it the skillful repetition of firemen, fire, whiskey, building, casks, canal.

$750,000 WORTH OF WHISKEY BURNS

Firemen had to fight a canal full of blazing whiskey here to-day when a fire broke out in the building of the Distillery Company, Ltd. Twelve thousand casks of liquor were stored in the building. The conflagration spread rapidly and the explosion of the casks released the whiskey, which made a burning stream of the canal.

Firemen pumped water from the bottom of the canal and played it on the blazing surface. The loss is estimated at $750,000.

133. Relation Words.—In other kinds of writing there is a tendency to use relation words, phrases, and clauses freely between sentences and paragraphs. But in news writing the paucity of such expressions for subconnection—moreover, finally, on the other hand, in the next place, now that we have mentioned the cause of the divorce—is noteworthy. Editors and the news-reading public demand that the ideas follow each other so closely and that the style be so compressed in thought that there shall be small need of connectives between sentences. It is this demand, plus a desire for emphasis, that is responsible for the so-called bing-bing-bing style of writing, of which the following is a fair illustration:

After killing Mrs. Benton, Wallace, and the Weston boy, Carlton set fire to the Lewis "love bungalow." The wounded were unable to care for themselves. They narrowly escaped death in the burning building. Arrival of rescuing parties attracted by the fire alone saved their lives.

A hatchet was the weapon used by Carlton.

The slayer escaped after the wholesale murder. He is thought to be headed for Chicago. A posse under command of Sheriff Bauer of Spring Green is hunting the man.

The story of the terrible tragedy enacted in the Lewis "love bungalow," where for some years the celebrated sculptor and the former Mrs. Cross had been living in open defiance of the conventionalities, was a gruesome one as it came to light to-day.

Carlton is twenty-eight years old. He is married. His wife lived with him at the Lewis home. He had been employed by Lewis for six months. He was formerly employed by John Z. Hobart, proprietor of Hobart's restaurant. He is five feet eight inches tall, of medium build and light in color.

What caused the trouble or the fury of Carlton is not known.

Who first fell is not known.

What is known of the tragedy is this:

Shortly after noon to-day villagers in the little village of Spring Valley, where the Lewis bungalow is and always has been something of a mystery as well as a wonder to the residents, saw smoke coming from the "love bungalow" on the hills. Villagers ran to the place. The fire department responded to the alarm.

The bungalow was rapidly being consumed. Some one entered the house. It was a shambles. Mrs. Benton was found dead. Wallace was dead. Both had been literally chopped to pieces by the infuriated negro.

The bungalow was barricaded before entrance was forced. After the dead had been discovered the wounded were found. They were dragged out. The conscious told disjointed stories of the tragedy and of the awful fury that seemed to possess Carlton, the cook.

The latter was not to be found. He was at first thought to have taken to the hills. Later it was thought he might be hiding in the underground root cellar but no search lights were available.

Men with guns surrounded the house.

The negro will be lynched if he is found, it was thought this afternoon.[17]

[17] Chicago American.

134. Bing-Bing-Bing Style.—On the whole, this bing-bing-bing style of writing cannot be commended. Its value in rapid narrative, where excitement prevails and the reader's emotions are greatly aroused, is evident. But the style, indulged in too freely, produces a fitful, choppy effect that is not good. The sentences should be longer and more varied in construction. Examination of the preceding illustration shows that it has only three words or phrases used for subconnection, and only four complex sentences.

135. Emphasis.—Next to clearness in holding the interest of the reader comes emphasis, which may be had by avoidance of vague literary phrasing, by a due regard for tone in the story, and by condensation of expression. The first two overlap, since the whole tone of a story may easily be destroyed by an affectation of literary phraseology. These two, therefore, may be considered together.

136. Vague Literary Phrasing.—Many cub reporters feel, when they begin to write, that they must express themselves in a literary style, and to gain that style they affect sonorous, grandiloquent phrases that sound well but mean little. In nine cases out of ten these phrases are the inventions of others and meant much as used in their original connection. But as adopted now by a novice, they are vague, only hazily expressive, lacking in that sharp precision necessary for forceful presentation of news.

137. Tone.—It is this vagueness of expression that as often as not destroys the tone of the story. One may be aiming at portraying the dignity and simplicity of a wedding or the unmarred happiness of the occasion, but if one attempts to equal the joy of the event with the bigness of his words, one will produce upon the reader an effect of revulsion rather than interest. An ignorant, but well-meaning, reporter on an Eastern weekly concluded a wedding story with the following sentences:

After the union of Miss Petty and Mr. Meydam in the holy bonds of wedlock, the beautiful bride and handsome groom and all the knights and ladies present repaired to the dining-room, where a bounteous supper interspersed with mirth and song awaited them. After which they tripped the light fantastic toe until the wee small hours of the morning, when all repaired to their beds of rest and wrapt themselves in the arms of Morpheus.

This selection happens to be a conglomeration mainly of worn-out expressions current in literature for the past two or three centuries. But any use of phrases too large or too emotional for the thought to be conveyed will result in an equally dismal failure. All the words, phrases, and ideas in the following are the writer's own, but the effect is practically the same as in the preceding story:

The scene and the occasion were both inspiring. The music was furnished by the birds, which were at their best on this bridal day. A meadowlark called to his mate across the lake, asking if he might come and join her. A brown thrush in a tree on the hill near by sent forth across the water a carol full of love and melody such as a Beethoven or a Chopin would strive in vain to imitate. The hills were dressed in their prettiest robes of green. The water was quiet. Nature was at her best. And the bride and groom, both in tastiness of dress and in spirits, were in harmony with nature.

The writer, too, in striving after a definite tone must be equally apprehensive of unintended suggestions caused by an unfortunate closeness of unrelated ideas. This fault was illustrated in a story by an Iowa reporter who wrote that "Lon Stegle took Mrs. Humphrey and a load of hogs to Santo Monday," and of an unwitting Pennsylvania humorist who said, "Audry Richardson, while visiting his sweetheart in Freedonia last Sunday sprained his arm severely and won't be able to use it for ten days or two weeks." If the tone of the story is meant to be dignified, unintended humor may make the presentation absurd.

138. Varied Sentence Length.—The story tone is greatly affected also by the length of the sentences. If one's sentences are unnecessarily long, the effect will be heavy and tiresome. If they are markedly short, the result will be a monotonous, choppy, jolting effect, like a flat wheel on a street-car. The bing-bing-bing style just discussed is an illustration of the latter. The writer should aim at a happy medium, with simple constructions and a tendency toward shorter sentences than in other kinds of writing. Twenty words make a good average sentence length. It is necessary to remember that one's stories are read not only by the literati, but by the uneducated as well. One must make one's style, therefore, so fluent, so easy, that a man with a speaking vocabulary of five hundred words can read and enjoy all one writes.

139. Condensation.—The value of condensation of expression need not be discussed at length here as it is taken up fully in the next chapter. Suffice it to say now, however, that a diffuse style is never forceful. The reporter must condense his ideas into the smallest space possible. Often that space is designated by the city editor when the reporter, on his return to the office, asks for instructions, and nearly always it is only about half enough. But he must follow directions to the letter. Woe to the novice who presents a thousand words, or even six hundred, when the city editor calls for five hundred. Sometimes, however, he will find that the city editor has allotted him more space than he can easily fill. In such a case, let him give length by introducing additional details. Mere words will not suffice. They do not make a story.

140. Final Test of a Story.—The two cares for the reporter, then, in writing the body of the story are accuracy and interest. Accuracy is worth most, and is attained by strict adherence to truth, with plenty of proof for the truth in case it is questioned after publication. Interest may be had by making all statements clear, coherent, forceful. But there is no precise form or method by which accuracy and interest may be obtained. The reporter is given unlimited range in selecting, organizing, and writing his news. He may follow or disregard at will the standard types of other newspaper men's stories, which should be taken as models only, never as laws. For the final test of the goodness of a story is its effect upon the reader. If it attains the desired result without conforming to the patterns given by other writers, it will become a new pattern for itself and for similar stories. Get accuracy and interest, then, no matter what the method.

XI. THE PARAGRAPH

141. Paragraph a Mark of Punctuation.—Discussion of the paragraph really belongs under the head of punctuation, since its purpose is to set off the larger divisions of the story in the same way that the period and the comma mark sentences and phrases. The indention of the first line catches the eye of the reader and notifies him silently to stop for a summary of his impressions before starting a somewhat different phase of the story. Its purpose, like that of the other marks of punctuation, is clearness and emphasis. Yet since its very lax laws are much the same as those of the story, it must be noticed independently.

142. Clearness.—The first requirement of the paragraph is that it shall be clear. Its relation to the paragraphs preceding and following must be evident at a glance. If transitional phrases and sentences or relation words are necessary for making the relation clear, use them; but as a rule, as stated concerning the story as a whole, reliance for clearness in and between paragraphs is placed mainly on the natural and close sequence of ideas.

143. Emphasis.—Next to clearness, the important thing to strive for in the news paragraph is emphasis. Proper emphasis is not a virtue; it is a necessity, because the eye of the rapid reader, as he glances down the columns of the paper, catches only the first words and phrases at each paragraph indention. And according as those words and phrases interest him, so will he take sufficient interest in the paragraph as a whole to read it. For this reason the beginning of each paragraph especially should be emphasized by placing there the most important details. The reporter should guard against putting even dependent clauses and phrases used for subconnection at the beginning of a paragraph, but should envelop them, rather, within the sentence. He should not begin successive paragraphs with the same words or phrases or with the same construction. It is remarkable how unfavorably such small details influence readers. All this does not mean that the paragraph should end lamely. It cannot conclude with the emphasis of the beginning, it is true, but it may be well rounded at the end and its lack of emphasis in details may be compensated with vigor and deftness of expression.

144. Paragraph Length.—The length of one's paragraphs should also be a matter of due consideration. They must be not only brief, but brief looking. The modern reader will not brook long ones. Single-sentence paragraphs are frequent, particularly in the lead. Two- or three-sentence paragraphs are common. Half-column paragraphs are unendurable. The average newspaper column permits lines of about seven words each, so that twenty lines, or 140 words, should be the limit of a paragraph. Eight or ten lines is a good average length. Because of this necessary brevity, the newspaper paragraph allows no topics and subtopics within its limited space, but throws every subtopic into an individual paragraph. This the reporter may follow as a safe rule in paragraphing: whenever in doubt about the advisability of a new paragraph, make one.

XII. THE SENTENCE[18]

[18] Teachers having classes sufficiently advanced may find it advisable to pass hastily over this chapter, or may omit it entirely.

145. Requisites.—The same laws of accuracy and interest hold for the sentence as for the story as a whole. But in the sentence they are more rigid,—due in the main to the fact that the sentence is briefer and more readily analyzable. And while one sympathizes with the overworked reporter who served notice upon critical college professors that "when the hands of the clock are near on to press time, and I have a million things to write in a few minutes, I don't give a whoop if I do end a few sentences with prepositions," and concluded by saying, "If I had as much time as the average college professor has, I probably could write good grammar, too";—while one sympathizes with the time-driven newspaper man who never has sufficient leisure to polish a story as he would like, the fact still remains that the reader cannot tell from looking at a story, nor should he be allowed to tell, how much rushed the reporter was. The only thing the reader is interested in is the story, whether it is good or not; and if he does not regard it as worth while, if the sentences are faulty, ungrammatical, weak, he will read another story or another paper.

146. Grammar.—The first point to regard in seeking accuracy in the sentence is good grammar. This may seem a trivial injunction to offer a coming star reporter on a great metropolitan daily; but the city editor's assistants have to correct more grammatical errors in cub copy than any other kind of mistake except spelling and punctuation. The main violations of grammar may be classified conveniently under four heads: faulty reference, incorrect verb forms, failures in coördinating and subordinating different parts of a sentence, and poor ellipsis.

147. Pronouns Referring to Ideas.—Probably the most prolific cause of bad grammar and of obscurity of meaning in news writing may be found in the use of unclear pronouns. One or more instances may be found in almost every paper a reader examines. A reporter should assure himself that every pronoun he uses refers to a particular word in the sentence and that it agrees with that word in gender and number. The use of a pronoun to refer to a general idea not expressed in a particular word is one of the commonest causes of ambiguity and obscurity in newspaper work. In the following sentence note what a ludicrous turn is given the sentence by the use of which referring to an idea:

A card from C. A. Laird, son of Harry Laird, informs the Democrat that his father is slightly improved and that they now have hopes of his recovery, although he suffers much pain from his fractured jaw, which will be good news to his many Lock Haven friends.

148. Agreement of Pronouns in Number.—A second prime cause of incorrect reference is found in a writer's failure to make a reference word agree in number with the noun to which it refers. Such faulty reference occurs most frequently after collective nouns, such as mob, crowd, council, jury, assembly; after distributive pronouns, such as everyone, anybody, nobody; and after two or more singular and plural nouns, where the reporter forgets momentarily to which he is referring. In the following sentences note that each of the italicized pronouns violates one or more of these principles, thereby polluting the clearness of the meaning:

The mob was already surrounding the attorney's home, but they moved so slowly that we got in ahead.

We have heard more than one express themselves that next year Merrillan should have the biggest celebration of the century.

Everyone who had any interest in the boat was inquiring about their friends and relatives.

A peculiar thing about each one was that they chose a husband with a given name that rhymed much the same with their own. Mrs. Baker was Josephine Ramp and secured Joe as her husband; Arnie Hallauer and Annie Ramp, Gust Lumblad and Gusta Ramp, and Eugene Carver and Ella Ramp. The latter is a widow. The given name of each one commences with the same letter in each instance.

149. Ambiguous Antecedents.—Then there is a use of the pronoun with an unclear antecedent buried somewhere in the sentence, so that the pronoun seems to refer to an intervening word. Such a misuse really is a matter of clearness rather than of grammar, and should come under the next section of this chapter, but it will be discussed here for the sake of including all misuses of the pronoun at once. The ambiguous use of pronouns is the most common error of faulty reference. The following are typical illustrations:

The Rev. Mr. Tomlinson states that he wants a steady, religious young man to look after his garden and care for his cow who has a good voice and is accustomed to singing in the choir.

Atkinson telephoned that he was at Zeibski's corners in his machine and had his wife with him. She had died on him and he wanted the garage company to come out and pull her in.

150. Split Infinitive.—Next to faulty reference in frequency comes the use of incorrect verb forms. Of these probably the most common error among cub reporters is the employment of the split infinitive,—to quickly run instead of to run quickly. The split infinitive is not necessarily an error. There are times when one's precise meaning can be expressed only by the use of an adverb between to and its infinitive. But as a rule one should avoid the construction. Certainly there was no excuse for the following in a Chicago paper:

President Yuan Shi Kai declared he was willing to permit Professor Frank Johnson Goodnow of Brooklyn, legal adviser to the Chinese government, to in August accept the presidency of Johns Hopkins University.

151. Infinitive and Participle with Verbs.—The use of the infinitive and the participle with the past tense of verbs is also a cause of frequent error. Our English rule regarding these parts of the verb is mainly a matter of usage, accuracy in which may be attained only by habits of correct speech. But if the reporter will bear in mind that the infinitive and the participle have no finite tense of their own, that they always express time relative to the time of the main verb, he will have taken a real precaution toward preventing confusion. For example, the newspaper man who wrote,

Detective McGuire had intended to have arrested him when he began blowing the safe,

did not say what he meant, because the past infinitive here makes the writer say that Detective McGuire had intended to have the yeggman already under arrest when he began blowing the safe. What the writer meant to say was:

Detective McGuire had intended to arrest him when he began blowing the safe.

Likewise the reporter was inaccurate who wrote:

Going into the basement, they found the cocaine stored beneath a heap of rags.

He was not accurate, unless he meant that they found the cocaine while on the way to the basement. The cause of his inaccuracy lies in the fact that the time expressed by the participle going varies from that of the main verb. What he should have said was,

Having gone into the basement, ...

or better,

After going into the basement, they found the cocaine stored beneath a heap of rags.

152. Dangling Participles.—Another detail for careful attention in the use of the participle is the necessity of having a definite noun or pronoun in the sentence for the participle to modify. It is wrong to write,

Having arrived at the county jail, the door was forced open,

because the sentence seems to say that the door did the arriving. The sentence should be written,

Having arrived at the county jail, the mob forced open the door.

153. Agreement of Verbs.—One should watch one's verbs carefully, too, to see that they agree in number with their subjects. One is sometimes tempted to make the verb agree with the predicate, as in the following:

The weakest section of the course are the ninth, tenth, and eleventh holes.

But English usage requires agreement of the verb with the subject. If the subject is a collective noun, one may regard it as either singular or plural. But when the writer has made his choice, he must maintain a consistent point of view. One may say,

The mob were now gathering in the northeast corner of the yard and yelling themselves hoarse,

or

The mob was now gathering in the northeast corner of the yard and yelling itself hoarse.

But the two points of view may not be mixed in the same sentence or the same paragraph. That the following sentence is wrong should be evident at a glance:

The Kellog-Haines Singing Party has been on the lyceum and chautauqua platform for eight years and have toured together the entire United States.

Confusion is often caused also by qualifying phrases intervening between subjects and their verbs. Thus:

The number of the strikers and of the members of the employment associations do not agree with the report made by the commission.

And sometimes one finds a plural verb wrongly used after the correlative terms either ... or and neither ... nor, as in the following:

Neither the mother of the children nor the aunt were held responsible for the accident.

Finally, one often finds reporters consistently using a singular verb after the expletive there. In fifty per cent of the cases the writers are wrong. Thus:

The briefest glance at the yard and premises would have shown that there was more than one in the conspiracy.

Here was should be were.

154. Coördination and Subordination.—The third error in grammatical construction, failure to coördinate or subordinate sentences and parts of sentences properly, cannot be treated with so much sureness as the two preceding faults; yet certain definite instruction may be given. And, but, for, or, and nor are called coördinating conjunctions; that is, they are used to connect words, phrases, and clauses of equal rank. If one uses and to connect a noun with a verb, or a past participle with a present participle, or a verb in the indicative mood with one in the subjunctive, he perverts the conjunction and produces a consequent effect of awkwardness or lack of clearness in the sentence. Look at the following:

The sister residing in Albany, and who is said to have struck one of the visiting sisters, followed them into the sick room.

In this sentence and is used to connect the participle residing with the pronoun who, and the consequent awkwardness results. This is the much condemned and who construction. Likewise, in the next sentence:

Five hundred persons saw two boys washed from the end of Winter's pier and drowning in twenty feet of water at noon to-day.

And is here used to connect the past participle washed with the present participle drowning, and the sentence is thereby rendered clumsy.

155. Clauses Unequal in Thought.—An equally great inaccuracy is the attempt to connect with a coördinate conjunction clauses equivalent in grammatical construction, but unequal in thought value. Other things being equal, the ideas of greatest value should be put into independent clauses, the ideas of least value into dependent clauses or phrases. Other things being equal, be it understood, for by a too strict observance of this rule one may easily make the sentence ludicrous. Take the following as an illustration:

We were to raid the hall precisely at midnight, and we set our watches to the second.

Here the thought-value of the two clauses is not equal, no matter how the writer may attempt to make it seem so by expressing the ideas in clauses grammatically equal. The second clause contains the main idea; so the first should be subservient. Thus:

As we were to raid the hall precisely at midnight, we set our watches to the second.

In the corrected form the sentence is given greater force by having the reader's attention directed specifically to the thought of prime importance, the setting of the watches. And so with the following sentences. Note that the second in each case is made more forceful by centering the attention on what is most important in thought.

The saloons were not allowed after January 1 to keep open on Sunday, and half of them gave up their licenses.

As the saloons were not allowed after January 1 to keep open on Sunday, half of them gave up their licenses.

He fell from the sixth story and was able to walk away without assistance.

Though he fell from the sixth story, he was able to walk away without assistance.

156. Ellipsis.—Ellipsis is the omission of a word or phrase necessary to the meaning of a sentence. An ellipsis is poor when the words omitted cannot readily be understood from the context. Pope's line,

To err is human; to forgive, divine.

is an illustration of good ellipsis because the word is can readily be substituted from the context. The following ellipses, however, are not good:

Louis Flanagan is helping his brother Silas cut wood and numerous other things.

He shadowed Laux longer than O'Rourke.

Standing on each side of the door, a fat and tall man looked suspiciously at them.

Ellipsis is often desirable for the sake of brevity, but one must be sure never to omit a word or phrase unless precisely that word or phrase may be readily supplied from the context.

157. Clearness in the Sentence.—After correct grammar, the next points to seek in writing the sentence are clearness and force, which together give a sentence its interest. Of the two, clearness is the more important. A reporter should never write a sentence that must be read twice to be understood. As has been said once or twice already, but may be repeated for emphasis, news stories to-day are read rapidly, and rapid reading is possible only when sentences yield their ideas with small effort on the part of the reader. Consider the following:

The Assembly on Thursday refused to pass the Grell Bill, permitting the sale of intoxicating liquors, after the close of the polls on election days, over the governor's veto.

This sentence is clear if one will stop to read it twice; but there is the trouble: one must read it twice—a task few will perform.

158. Grammatically Connected Phrases.—The lack of entire clearness in the sentence just quoted is due to a difficulty over which the best writers often stumble,—failure to keep grammatically connected words, phrases, and clauses as close together as possible. In the sentence quoted, for instance, if the phrase over the governor's veto were placed immediately after pass, the whole sentence would be clear at once to the reader. The same fault exists in the following:

The witness said she had a furnished bedroom for a gentleman 22 feet long by 11 feet wide.

159. Correlative Conjunctions.—The correlative conjunctions, either ... or, neither ... nor, whether ... or, and not only ... but also, are also particularly liable to trip a writer. Each should come immediately before the word or phrase it modifies. For example:

Either the prisoner will be hanged or sentenced to life imprisonment.

This sentence obviously is wrong. Either here should come immediately before hanged, making the sentence read:

The prisoner will be either hanged or sentenced to life imprisonment.

160. "Only" and "Alone."—Only and alone belong in the same class of modifiers that demand close watching. Only comes immediately before the word or phrase it modifies, alone immediately after. One should avoid using only when alone may be used instead, and should not place either of the two words between emphatic words or phrases. The following illustrates an inaccurate placing of only:

The evidence seemed to show that a man could only obtain advancement in the Hall by submitting wholly to the dictates of the leaders.

Only here should come immediately before the phrase by submitting.

161. Parenthetic Expressions.—The use of long parenthetic expressions within a sentence is also a frequent cause of lack of clearness. In general, sentences within parentheses should be avoided in news articles. Two short terse sentences are clearer—hence far more effective—than one long one containing a doubtfully clear parenthetic phrase or clause. The prime fault with the following sentence, for instance, is the inclusion of the two parenthetic clauses, necessitating a close reading to get the meaning:

Even if the allies shall be able to force the Dardanelles, and present indications are that they will, the wheat crop in Russia will not be up to the average from that country on account of the withdrawal of so many millions of men for purely military purposes, either in the fields of battle or in the factories getting munitions of war ready.

Put into two sentences, the illustration becomes:

Even if the allies shall be able to fulfil their present expectations of forcing the Dardanelles, the Russian wheat will not be up to the average. Too many millions of men have been withdrawn from the field to the trenches and the munition factories to enable the country to produce a full crop.

162. Shifted Subject.—A shifted subject within a sentence is also usually a hindrance to clearness. Indeed, one can aid clearness in successive sentences by retaining as far as possible the same subject. Certainly one should not shift subjects within the sentence without good reason. The two following sentences exhibit the weakness of the shifted subject:

The British ambassador to Norway has offered $25,000 reward for his capture, and he bears a special passport from the Kaiser.

Witter was standing near the curb, but the death-car passed without his seeing it.

Improved, these sentences become:

The British ambassador to Norway has offered $25,000 reward for the capture of Benson, who bears a special passport from the Kaiser.

Witter was standing near the curb, but failed to see the death-car pass.

163. Coherence.—Clearness frequently is destroyed or greatly lessened through lack of proper coherence. Writers often forget that every sentence has a double purpose: to convey a meaning itself and to make clearer the meaning of preceding and succeeding sentences. The reporter should watch closely to see not only that the phrases of his sentences follow each other in natural sequence, but also that the relation of those phrases to adjacent ones in the same or other sentences is clearly shown. Here is a notice made ludicrous because the reporter used a connective indicating a wrong relation between two clauses:

Mrs. Alpheus White is on the sick list this week. Dr. Anderson has been with her, but we hope she may soon recover.

The connective that the writer should have used, of course, was and, or else none at all. Substitute the and or merely omit the but and the coherence is perfect.

164. Coherence and Unity.—Many sentences that appear to lack unity are really wanting in proper coherence. For instance,

Dr. Alvers was called as soon as the accident was discovered, and it is feared now she will not recover,

is a sentence lacking in unity, but one that may be unified properly if the coherence is made good. Thus:

Dr. Alvers was called as soon as the accident was discovered, and though he gave all the aid that medical science could render, it is feared now she will not recover.

165. Sentence Emphasis.—Sentence emphasis is gained in five ways: by form, position, proportion, repetition, and delicacy of expression. Sentence form—putting into an independent clause what is most important—has already been discussed under clearness. The use of position for emphasis is the placing at the beginning or end of the sentence the ideas that are most important and the enclosure within of the less important thoughts. The following sentence illustrates a writer's failure to avail himself of position for emphasis:

This afternoon reports that she was still missing from home were being circulated.

But this afternoon and circulated are not the important concepts. Reports and still missing from home are the emphatic ideas and should be put first and last respectively. Thus:

Reports were being circulated this afternoon that she was still missing from home.

So with the following:

This morning fifty convicts of the Kansas State penitentiary were placed in solitary confinement, accused of being leaders in a mutiny yesterday in the coal mines operated by the penitentiary.

This morning and mines operated by the penitentiary are not, however, the important ideas. A better arrangement of the sentence reads:

Accused of being leaders in a mutiny yesterday in the penitentiary coal mines, fifty convicts of the Kansas State penitentiary were placed this morning in solitary confinement.

Similarly, a phrase or clause transferred from its normal position in the sentence will attract attention to itself. Note the increased emphasis upon the matter was purely political in the following sentence by transference of it from its normal position at the end:

Simpson, who was in the uniform of a lieutenant when arrested at New Orleans, said the matter was purely political.

That the matter was purely political was the statement made by Simpson, who was in the uniform of a lieutenant when arrested at New Orleans.

166. Proportion for Emphasis.—The emphasis of a sentence in a news story varies in inverse proportion to its length. Emphasis is gained by brevity. A prolix style tires the reader; and newspaper space is valuable. The reporter, therefore, must make his sentences short and pointed. He must condense, must reduce predication to a minimum. As few verbs as possible and all verbs active is a slogan in the news room. It is an error from a newspaper standpoint to include in a sentence any word that may be omitted without altering or obscuring the sense. One of the first requisites for success in journalism is ability to present facts with a minimum of words. Note the added emphasis given the following sentences by mere reduction in the number of words:

It is well to understand that a high temperature of heat, boiling or more, destroys the germs of disease.

It is well understood that a high temperature, boiling or more, destroys germs.

A pioneer living west of Solon blew his head off to-day with a shotgun. Death followed the deed instantly.

A pioneer living west of Solon killed himself instantly to-day by blowing his head off with a shotgun.

Miss Helen Goodrich, who is an aviatrix of note, was arrested in Bremen this morning charged with kidnapping.

Miss Helen Goodrich, an aviatrix of note, was arrested in Bremen this morning charged with kidnapping.

Note that in the last illustration, in particular, the condensation consists in reducing predication, in merely removing a verb and a pronoun from the sentence.

167. Repetition.—The worth of repetition as a means of obtaining coherence has been discussed in a preceding chapter. Its value as an effective means of gaining emphasis is also noteworthy. Consider the effect of the repetition of the word blithe in the following two sentences:

A blithe young man met a blithe young woman at State and Adams Streets Friday. Michael Hurley, a blithe plain-clothes policeman, met them both.

Great care must be exercised, however, in repeating a word for emphasis. The usage may easily be a handicap rather than a help. More often than not, repetition of the same word or phrase is the result of laziness or paucity of vocabulary, and destroys the force of the sentence. An instance of too frequent use of the same word—the adjective beautiful—appears in the following:

The bride was elaborately gowned in a beautiful sky-blue messaline dress, with silk over lace, and carried a beautiful bouquet of gladiolis, besides having a beautiful bouquet of flowers at the waist. The groom wore the usual blue worsted suit, with a beautiful buttonhole bouquet, while the bridesmaid was beautifully gowned in a white French serge trimmed with a light blue silk girdle and a blue silk tango cord at the throat, and also had a beautiful bouquet at the waist. The best man wore a rich dark gray suit and also had a beautiful buttonhole bouquet. The room was beautifully decorated with green foliage and roses, formed into a beautiful arch, under which the couple stood during the ceremony, which was performed by Rev. Wells of this city.

168. Delicacy of Expression.—Delicacy of expression is that quality in news writing which distinguishes the star reporter from the cub. It may be learned, but never taught. It is this elusive element in writing and the inability of instructors to impart it that make many journalists say news writing cannot be taught. Delicacy of expression is not effeminacy. It is originality; it is cleverness; it is nimbleness of wit and beauty of phrase; it is grace; it is simplicity; it is restraint; it is tact. It is all these, and more. It is that intuition in a star man which forbids his beginning the same kind of story day after day with a fixed, hackneyed type of sentence, which makes him avoid triteness of expression. It is that something in him which compels him to avoid affectation, to love beauty and grace, born of simplicity, unadornedness. It is that inborn sense of good taste that restrains the writer from indelicate, personal allusions so offensive to men and women of refinement. All this and more is delicacy of expression, and blest is the journalist who has it. The reporter who wrote the following had not yet learned the art:

THE HAVENS-MERRILL WEDDING

At 7:30 the sounds of the wedding march scintillated through the Havens house like tired waves laving the shores of a mighty lake. Seldom if ever has such a scene been witnessed in this place. The smell of spring flowers was everywhere coming to all nostrils. Presently there was a slight disturbance at the right hand entrance, and then the bride entered on the arm of her father, William Havens, the well-known merchant. Simultaneous at the opposite door was another disturbance, and the bridegroom entered attended by Henry Merrill of Des Moines. Then the two parties proceeded down the middle aisles, meeting under a beautiful marriage bell where the two hearts were beautifully made as one, which was followed by congratulations all along the aisles.

MR. CRAIG WEDS MISS SCHELL

Mr. Joe Craig and Miss Cora Schell, both of Mena, were quietly married at the Hotel Main, Durant, Okla., Monday, and are boarding at this hotel. Mr. Craig is well known as a skilful bricklayer, honest and industrious. The bride is well known in this city and proved her worth by the years she served the Lochridge Dry Goods Company as cashier. She is a member of the Woodmen Circle and carries a large insurance. We regret that she must leave, but like Rebekah of old, she leaves home, family, and friends to travel the journey of life with her "Isaac" (Joe) in a distant land. We feel that the expression of all her friends is that the best this world affords will be theirs to the end of their journey and that a new life awaits them in another and higher sphere.

169. Essentials of the Sentence.—If a reporter can write grammatically correct sentences,—if he can coördinate and subordinate accurately the different parts; if he can give all the pronouns definite antecedents; if he can keep his verbs consistent, having them agree in person and number with their subjects; if he can make effective use of ellipsis,—his sentences will possess the first essentials of a good sentence,—accuracy. If he can make his sentences clear and forceful,—if he can keep grammatically connected words, phrases, and clauses close together; if he can eliminate lengthy parenthetic expressions; if he can avoid unnecessary shifts of subjects within sentences; if he can make readily clear the relation of every phrase in a sentence to every other phrase in it and adjoining sentences; if he can put important ideas at the beginning and the end of the sentence; if he can make his sentences short and concise; if he can acquire delicacy of expression,—his sentences will possess the second requisite of a good sentence,—interest. Accuracy and interest, these are the elements that make a sentence good. And the greater of these is accuracy.

XIII. WORDS

170. Accuracy and Interest.—For words, as for sentences and stories, the same law holds,—accuracy and interest. If one's words are accurate and stimulate interest in the reader, they are good.

171. Accuracy.—Accuracy comes first. It is necessary always to write with a nice regard for exact shades of meaning. As Flaubert declared, "Whatever one wishes to say, there is only one noun to express it, only one verb to give it life, only one adjective to qualify it. Search then till that noun, that verb, that adjective is discovered. Never be content with very nearly; never have recourse to tricks, however happy, or to buffoonery of language to avoid a difficulty. This is the way to become original." An accurate writer avoids looseness of thinking and inexactness of expression as he avoids libel. The adjective lurid is an illustration of a word over which careless reporters have stumbled for generations. When the casualties of the war against inaccuracy are recorded, lurid will be among the missing. As used by ignorant scribblers, the word means something like bright or brilliant, or perhaps towering; yet its precise meaning is pale yellow, wan, ghastly. Journalists of the last quarter of the nineteenth century will remember a long list of such sins against precision, recorded by Charles A. Dana, editor of the New York Sun. A few additions have been made to his list, and the whole is given below. The reader should distinguish keenly between each pair of words and should be careful never to misuse one of them. Do not use:

172. Clearness.—To secure interest, a word must be clear and forceful. It should not be technical or big, but simple. The biggest words in the average newspapers are the handiwork and pride of the cub reporters. Yet clearness, force, brevity all demand little words,—simplicity. And the simplest words are those of everyday speech,—Anglo-Saxon words generally,—such as home rather than residence, begin rather than commence, coffin rather than casket. The reporter who uses ornate, technical, or little-known words does so at his own peril and to the injury of his story; for the average newspaper reader, without the benefits of a college education and having a limited vocabulary of one to two thousand words, does not know and has no time to look up the meaning of unfamiliar words and phrases. This is why many city editors prefer to employ high-school students and break them in as cubs rather than take college graduates who, proud of their education and vocabularies, attempt to display their learning in every story they write. Simple, familiar, everyday words, those that every reader knows, are always the most forceful and clear, and hence the most fitting. The following is a list of words which young writers are most commonly tempted to use:

173. Force.—Force demands that one's words be emphatic. Unfortunately a reporter cannot have readers always eager to read what he writes. If he had, his readers would be satisfied with having his words merely accurate and clear. Instead, they demand that their attention be attracted, compelled. The words must be fitting, apt, fresh, unhackneyed, specific rather than general. The spectators gathered in the field must not be a vast concourse, but ten thousand persons. Nor must it be about ten thousand. The about should be omitted. A specific ten thousand persons present is much more effective and, being a round number, is a sufficient indication that no actual count has been made. In all cases where there is a choice between a specific and a general term, the specific one should be used.

174. Trite Phrases.—Interest requires one also to seek originality of expression, to avoid trite phrases and hackneyed words. Embalmed meats and kyanized sentences are never good. Yet one of the most difficult acquirements in reporting is the ability to find day after day a new way to tell of some obscure person dying of pneumonia or heart disease. Only reporters who have fought and overcome the arctic drowsiness of trite phraseology know the difficulty of fighting on day after day, seeking a new, a different way to tell the same old story of suicide or marriage or theft or drowning. Yet one is no longer permitted to say that the bridegroom wore the conventional black, or the bride was elegantly gowned, or the bride's mother presided at the punch bowl, or the assembled guests tripped the light fantastic. The reporter must find new words for everything and must tell all with the same zest and the same sparkling freshness of expression with which he wrote on his first day in the news office.

175. Figures of Speech.—In his search for freshness, variety of expression, the reporter often may avail himself of figures of speech. These add suggestiveness to writing and increase its meaning by interpretation in a figurative rather than a literal sense. To say, "Oldfield flew round the bowl like a ruined soul on the rim of Hades," is more effective than "Oldfield ran his car round the course at a 110-mile rate of speed." But the writer must be careful not to mix his figures, or he may easily make himself ridiculous. An apt illustration of such mixing of figures is the following:

It seemed as if the governor were hurling his glove into the teeth of the advancing wave that was sounding the clarion call of equal suffrage.

In particular, one must not personify names of ships, cities, states, and countries. Note, for example, the incongruity in the following:

Especially does the man of discriminating taste appreciate her when he compares her with the ordinary tubs sailing the Great Lakes.

176. Elegance.—Force also requires that one heed what may sometimes seem trivialities of good usage. For instance, a minister may not be referred to as Rev. Anderson, but as the Rev. Mr. Anderson. Coinage of titles, too, is not permitted: as Railway Inspector Brown for John Brown, a railway inspector. And the overused "editorial we" has now passed entirely from the news article. In an unsigned story, even the pronoun I should not be used, nor such circumlocutions as the writer, the reporter, or the correspondent. In a signed story, however, the pronoun I is used somewhat freely, while such stilted phrases as the scribe, your humble servant, etc., are absolutely taboo.

177. Slang.—Finally, mention must be made of slang, the uncouth relative in every respectable household. It is used freely on the sporting page, but is barred from other columns, its debarment being due to its lack of elegance and clearness. On the sporting page slang has been accepted because there one is writing to a narrow circle of masculine Goths who understand the patois of the gridiron, the diamond, and the padded ropes and prefer it to the language of civilization. But such diction is always limited in its range of acquaintances and followers. A current bit of slang in Memphis may be unintelligible in Pittsburg. A colloquial ephemeralism in a city may be undecipherable in the country districts twenty-five miles away. A large percentage of the athletic jargon of the sporting club and field is enigmatical to the uninitiated. And since a newspaper man writes for the world at large rather than for any specific class or group, he cannot afford to take chances on muddying his sentences by the use of slang. The best test of a good journalist is the instinct for writing for heterogeneous masses of people. That word is not a good one which is clear only to select readers, whether select in ignorance or select in intelligence. The news story permits no such selection. It is written, not for the few, not for the many as distinct from the few, but for all. No other kind of reading matter is so cosmopolitan in its freedom from class or provincial limitations as is the news story, and none is more unwavering in its elimination of slang. Newly coined words, it is true, are admitted more readily into news stories than into magazine articles, but slang itself is barred. One may not write of the "glad rags" of the debutante, or the "bagging" of the criminal, or the "swiping" of the messenger boy's "bike." One may not even employ such colloquialisms as "enthuse," "swell" (delightful), "bunch" (group). But one may use such new coinages as burglarize, home-run, and diner rather freely. When in doubt about the reputability of a word, however, one should consult a standard dictionary, which should be kept continually on one's desk.

PART III
TYPES OF STORIES

TYPES OF STORIES

XIV. INTERVIEWS, SPEECHES, COURTS

178. Four Types of Stories.—To the casual newspaper reader the various patterns of stories seem all but limitless. To the experienced newspaper man, however, they reduce themselves to seven or eight, and even this number may be further limited. The popular impression comes from the fact that the average reader places an automobile collision and a fire under different heads. Yet for the newspaper's purposes both may be classed under the head of accidents. For the sake of convenience in this study, therefore, we may group under four heads all the news stories that a beginner need be acquainted with in the first year or so of his work: interviews; accidents, society, and sports, to which may be added for separate treatment, rewrites, feature stories, and correspondence stories.

179. The Interview Type.—In the present chapter will be discussed the interview type of story, in which are included not only personal interviews, but speeches, sermons, toasts, courts, trials, meetings, conventions, banquets, official reports, and stories about current magazine articles and books. These are all grouped under one head because they derive their interest to the public from the fact that in them men and women present their opinions concerning topics of current interest, and that for newspaper purposes the method of handling interviews is much the same as for the other ten.

180. Lead to an Interview.—The lead to a news story of a personal interview may feature any one of the following: (1) the name of the person interviewed, (2) a direct statement from him, (3) an indirect statement, (4) the general topic of the interview, (5) the occasion, or even (6) the time. Probably it is the name of the man or a direct statement that is played up most often. If the former is featured, the lead should begin with the speaker's name and should locate the conversation in time and place. Such a lead may well include also either a direct or an indirect statement, or a general summary of the interview. Thus:

Professor George Trumbull Ladd of Yale, in an interview for The Herald to-day, declared there never had been a time in the history of the world when there was a greater need for the enforcement of international law, nor one when international law was so much in the making as at present.

If a significant statement is of most importance in the interview, the lead should begin with the statement, directly or indirectly expressed, and continue with the speaker's name, the time, place, and occasion of the interview. Thus:

"What has happened in Mexico is an appalling international crime," declared Theodore Roosevelt last evening at his home on Sagamore Hill, Oyster Bay, L.I. He had been out all the afternoon in the woods chopping wood, and was sitting well back from the great log fire in the big hall filled with trophies of his hunting trips, as he talked of the recent massacre of American mining men in Chihuahua.

The most damnable act ever passed by Congress or conceived by a congressman, was the way in which William J. Conners of Buffalo to-day characterized the La Follette seamen's law. Mr. Conners is in New York on business connected with the Magnus Beck Brewing Company, of which he is president.

181. Statements of Local Interest.—Almost always it is well, if possible, to lead the person interviewed to an expression of his opinion about a topic of local interest, then feature that statement,—particularly if the statement agrees with a declared policy of the paper. Usually a problem of civic, state, or national interest may be broached most easily. If the city is interested in commission government or prohibition, if the state is fighting the short ballot or the income tax question, the visitor may be asked for his opinion. If the guest happens to be a national or international personage and the nation is solving the problem of preparedness, or universal military service, or the tariff question, he may be questioned on those subjects and his opinions featured prominently in the lead. Note the following lead to an interview published by a paper opposing the policies of President Wilson:

Declaring that the national administration's foreign policy has made him almost ashamed of being an American citizen, Henry B. Joy, of Detroit, Mich., president of the Packard Motor Company, a governor of the Aero Club of America and vice president of the Navy League, said yesterday that our heritage of national honor from the days of Washington, Lincoln, and McKinley is slipping through our fingers.

182. Inquiring about the Feature.—Often the feature to be developed in an interview lead may be had by asking the one interviewed if he has anything he would like brought out or developed. When the interview has been granted freely, such a question is no more than a courtesy due the prominent man. But only under extraordinary circumstances should a reporter agree to submit his copy for criticism before publication. Many a good story has had all the piquancy taken out of it by giving the one interviewed an opportunity to change his mind or to see in cold print just what he said,—a fact that accounts for so many repudiated interviews. In nine cases out of ten the newspaper man has reported the distinguished visitor exactly, but the write-up looks different from what the speaker expected. Then he denies the whole thing, and the reporter is made the scapegoat, because the man quoted is a public personage and the reporter is not.

183. Fairness in the Interview.—The first aim of the interviewer, however, must always be fairness, accuracy, and absence of personal bias. No other journalistic tool can be so greatly abused or made so unfair a weapon as the interview. One should make no attempt to color a man's opinions as expressed in an interview, no matter how much one may disagree, nor should one "editorialize" on those ideas. If the paper cares to discuss their truth or saneness, it will entrust that matter to the editorial writers. This caution does not mean that a writer may not break into the paragraphs of quotation to explain the speaker's meaning or to elaborate upon a possible effect of his position. Such interruptions are regularly made and are entirely legitimate, and it will be noted in the Bryan story on page [131] that most of that article consists of such explanation and elaboration. If, however, the reporter feels that the utterances of the speaker are such that they should not go unchallenged, he should obtain and quote a reply from a local man of prominence.

184. Coherence and Proportion.—Next to accuracy there should be kept in view the intent to make the sequence and proportion of the ideas logical, no matter in what order or at what length they may have been given by the one interviewed. Often in conversation a man will give more time to an idea than is its due, and often the most important part of an interview will not be introduced until the last. Or, again, a person may drift away from the immediate topic and not return to it for some minutes. In all such cases it is the duty of the reporter to regroup and develop the ideas so that they shall follow each other logically in the printed interview and shall present the thought and the real spirit of what the man wanted to say.

185. Identifying the One Interviewed.—Probably the most used and the easiest method of gaining coherence between the lead and the body of the interview is by a paragraph of explanation regarding the person, and how he came to give the interview. It is remarkable how many readers do not remember or have never heard the name of the governor of New York or the senior senator from California or the Secretary of the Navy, and it is therefore necessary to make entirely clear the position or rank of the person and his right to be heard and believed. In the following story, note how the writer dwells on the rank of the Oxford University professor as a lecturer and so inspires the reader with confidence in his statements:

MODERN DRESS CALLED A JOKE

"Look at our modern dress. Both men's and women's costumes are, on the whole, as bad as they can be."

Prof. I. B. Stoughton Holborn of Oxford University is in Chicago to deliver a series of lectures on art for the University of Chicago Lecture Association. In an interview Saturday afternoon he vigorously ridiculed modern dress.

Prof. Holborn is perhaps the most widely known of the Oxford and Cambridge university extension lecturers and has the reputation of being one of the most successful art lecturers in the world. He is the hero of an adventure on the sinking Lusitania. He saved Avis Dolphin, a 12-year-old child who was being sent to England to be educated. The two women in whose charge Mrs. Dolphin had sent her daughters were lost, and Prof. Holborn has adopted the child....

186. Handling Conversation.—It should not be necessary to caution a newspaper man against attempting to report all a man says. "Condense as often as possible" is the interviewer's watchword,—"cut to the bone," as the reporters express it. Much of what a man says in conversation is prolix. In that part of the interview that is dull or wordy, give the pith of what is said in one or two brief sentences, then fall into direct quotation again when his words become interesting. As a rule, however, it is well as far as possible to quote his exact language all through the interview, since the interest of an interview frequently rests not only in what a man says, but in the way he says it. This does not mean a cut-and-dried story consisting of a series of questions and answers, but a succession of sparkling, personal paragraphs containing the direct statements of the speaker.

187. Mannerisms.—The report may be livened up greatly with bits of description portraying the speaker and his surroundings, particularly when they harmonize or contrast with his character or the ideas expressed. An excellent device for presenting the spirit of an interview—giving an atmosphere, as it were—is to interpolate at intervals in the story personal eccentricities or little mannerisms of speech of the one interviewed. Mention of pet phrases, characteristic gestures, sudden display of anger, unexplainable reticence in answering questions, etc., will sometimes be more effective than columns of what the speaker actually said. Indeed, it is often of as much importance to pay as close attention to incidentals as to the remarks of the one talking.

188. Persons Refusing to Talk.—In nine cases out of ten it is the reporter's duty both to keep himself out of the story and to suppress the questions by which the man interviewed has been induced to talk. But when he has failed entirely in gaining admission to one he wishes to interview, or, having gained admission, has not succeeded in making him talk, the would-be interviewer may still present a good story by narrating his foiled efforts or by quoting the questions which the great man refused to answer. One of the most brilliant examples that the present writer has seen of the foiled interview was one by Mr. John Edwin Nevin the day before Mr. William Jennings Bryan surrendered his portfolio as Secretary of State in President Wilson's cabinet. The nation was at white heat over the contents of the prospective note to Germany and the possibility of the United States being drawn into the war. Not a word of what the note contained had leaked from any source and there had been no hint of a break in the Wilson cabinet. Supposedly, all was harmony. Yet this correspondent, judging from the excited manner of the Secretary of State, the sharpness of his noncommittal replies, and his preoccupied air as he emerged from the cabinet room, scented the trouble and published the following story hours before other correspondents had their eyes opened to the history-making events occurring about them:

BRYAN BALKS AT GERMAN NOTE

Washington, D. C., June 8.—President Wilson at 1:15 this afternoon announced, through Secretary Tumulty, that at the cabinet meeting to-day the note to Germany "was gone over and discussed and put in final shape, and it is hoped that it will go to-morrow," but Secretary of State Bryan is determined to fight for a modification right up to the minute that the note is cabled to Berlin.

Bryan believes the United States is on record for arbitration and that it would be a mockery to send Germany a document which, he considers, savors of an ultimatum. Although the majority of the cabinet was against him to-day, he carried his persuasive powers from the cabinet meeting to the University Club, where he and his fellow members had lunch.

Bryan's attitude came as a complete surprise to the President. In previous notes Mr. Bryan took the position that the United States should invite arbitration. He called attention to the fact that this country is on record as unalterably opposed to war and pledged to every honorable means to prevent it.

But in every instance he has stopped short of any further fight when the note has been approved by the majority of the cabinet. And the President expected that he would do this to-day. In fact, before the cabinet meeting it was stated that the note would have the approval of all members of the cabinet.

The first intimation that anything was wrong came when the Secretary did not show up at the executive offices with the other cabinet members. His absence was not at first commented upon because Count von Bernstorff, the German ambassador, was at the state department. However, it was soon ascertained that the ambassador was conferring with Counselor Lansing.

Then it was rumored that Secretary Bryan had sent word to President Wilson that he would not stand for the note as framed. Inquiry at the White House revealed the fact that Secretary Bryan had sent word that he would be in his office, working on an important paper, and would be late. At the state department, Eddie Savoy, the Secretary's colored messenger, refused to take any cards in to Bryan. He said he did not know whether his chief actually intended attending the meeting.

"He is very busy, and I cannot disturb him," Eddie stated.

At the White House a distinct air of tension was manifested. All inquiries as to what Secretary Bryan was going to do were ignored.

Finally, about 12 o'clock, Secretary Bryan left his office and came across the street. His face was flushed and his features hard set. He responded to inquiries addressed to him with negative shakes of the head. He swung into the cabinet room with the set stride with which he mounted the steps of the Baltimore platform to deliver his famous speech attacking Charles F. Murphy and Tammany Hall, and precipitating his break with Champ Clark, whose nomination for the presidency up to that time seemed assured.

For more than an hour after he reached the cabinet room the doors were closed. Across the hall the President's personal messenger had erected a screen to keep the curious at a distance.

At last the door was thrown open with a bang. First to emerge were Secretaries McAdoo and Redfield, who brushed through the crowd of newspaper representatives. They referred all inquiries to the President. Secretary of War Garrison came out alone. He refused to say a word regarding the note. There was an interval of nearly ten minutes. Then Secretaries Daniels and Wilson came out. Behind them was Attorney General Gregory, and, bringing up the rear, was Secretary Bryan. Bryan's face was still set. His turned-down collar was damp and his face was beaded with perspiration.

"Was the note to Germany completed?" he was asked.

"I cannot discuss what transpired at the cabinet meeting," was his sharp reply.

"Can you clear up the mystery and tell us when the note will go forward to Berlin?" persisted inquirers.

"That I would not care to discuss," said the Secretary, as he joined Secretary Lane. "I am not in a position to make any announcement of any sort now. I will tell you when the note actually has started."

Ordinarily, Secretary Bryan goes from a cabinet meeting to his office, drinks a bottle of milk and eats a sandwich. To-day he entered Secretary Lane's carriage and, with Lane and Secretary Daniels, proceeded to the University Club for luncheon.

It is understood that Secretary Bryan took to the cabinet meeting a memorandum in which he justified his views that the proposed note is not of a character that the United States should send to Germany. He took the position that the United States, in executing arbitration treaties with most of the countries of the world, took a direct position against war. As he put it, on great questions of national honor, the sort that make for welfare, arbitration is the only remedy.

Secretary Bryan is understood to have urged that the United States could stand firmly for its rights and not close the doors to any explanation that Germany—or any other belligerent—might make. It is understood that Bryan pointed out that Germany had accepted the principles of the arbitration treaties as a general proposition, but failed to execute the treaty because of the European War breaking out. Her opponents enjoy the advantages under such a treaty, and Secretary Bryan insisted that Germany should not be denied the same rights....

Although Secretary Bryan will continue his efforts to modify the note, persons close to the President insist that he will fail. The President is said to have decided, after hearing all arguments, that the safest course is to remain firm in the demand that American rights under international law be preserved. And it is expected that when the note is finally O. K.'d by Counselor Lansing, it will be sent to Germany.

There is speculation as to whether Secretary Bryan will sign the note as Secretary of State. He has angrily refused to take any positive position on the subject. If he should refuse, his retirement from the cabinet would be certain. Bryan's friends insist that he has been loyal to the President and has made many concessions to meet the latter's wishes. They believe that he will content himself with a protest and again bow to the will of his chief. But there was no way of getting any confirmation of this opinion from Bryan.

This is the first serious friction that has developed in President Wilson's cabinet. Politicians declare it will have far-reaching effect. Bryan has fought consistently for arbitration principles. And he now considers, some of his friends think, that they have been ridden over rough-shod.[19]...

[19] John Edwin Nevin in The Omaha News, June 8, 1915.

The next morning President Wilson announced his acceptance of Mr. Bryan's resignation as Secretary of State.

189. Value of Inference in the Foiled Interview.—The reporter who would attain success in his profession should not fail to study with care this story by Mr. Nevin, to learn not so much what the story contains as what the person who wrote it had to know and had to be able to do before he could turn out such a piece of work. One should analyze it to see how startlingly few new facts the correspondent had in his possession at the time he was writing, and how he played up those lonesome details with a premonition of coming events that was uncanny. Above all, the prospective reporter should observe with what rare judgment and accuracy the writer noted in Mr. Bryan's demeanor a few distinctive incidents which were at once both trivial and yet laden with suggestions of events to come. To produce this story the writer had to know not only a man, but men. A cub would have got nothing; this man scooped the best correspondents of the nation.

190. Series of Interviews.—In a story containing a number of interviews, let the lead feature the consensus of opinion expressed in the interviews. Then follow in the body with the individual quotations, each man's name being placed prominently at the beginning of the paragraph containing his interview, so that in a rapid reading of the story the eye may catch readily the change from the words of one man to another. When there is a large number of such interviews, the name may even be set in display type at the beginning of the paragraph. If, however, the persons interviewed are not at all prominent, but their statements are worth while, the quotations may be given successively and the names buried within the paragraph.

191. Leads for Speeches.—In comparison with handling an interview, a report of a speech is an easy task. In the case of the sermon or the lecture, typewritten copies are almost always available and the thoughts are presented in orderly sequence. So if the reporter has followed the advice given in Part II, Chapter VII, and taken longhand notes of a speech, or has not been so engrossed in mere note-taking that he has been unable to follow the trend of the speaker's thought, he will experience comparatively little trouble in writing up the speech. He may begin in any one of a half-dozen or more ways. He may feature: (1) the speaker's theme; (2) the title of the address, which may or may not be the theme; (3) a sentence or a paragraph of forceful direct quotation; (4) an indirect quotation of one or more dynamic statements; (5) the speaker's name; (6) the occasion of the speech; or (7) the time or the place of delivery. Any one of these may be played up according to its importance in the address.

192. Featuring a Single Sentence.—Of the seven or eight different kinds of lead, a quotation of a single sentence or a single paragraph is happiest if one can be found that will give the keynote of the speech or will harmonize with a declared policy of the paper. Thus:

"It is the traitor god Love that makes men tell foolish lies and women tell the fool truth," said Prof. Henry Acheson last night in his lecture on "Flirts."

"The devil has gone out of fashion. After a long and honorable career as truant officer, he has finally been buried with his fathers. That is why twentieth century men and women don't attend church." Such was Dr. Amos Buckwin's explanation yesterday of the church-going problem.

193. Random Statements.—Emphasis should be laid on the value of playing up in the lead even a random statement if it chances to agree with a specific policy or campaign to which the paper has committed itself. In a non-political address or sermon an unwary statement touching national, state, or city politics makes an excellent feature if it favors the policies of the paper. Its worth lies in the fact that it is manifestly unprejudiced and advanced by the speaker with no ulterior motive. On the other hand, such a statement may well be ignored if opposed to the paper's political or civic views. For example, note in the following lead a feature played up solely because the paper was Democratic in its politics:

"I was a student in one of the classes taught by Woodrow Wilson. Anyone who has ever seen the lower part of his facial anatomy knows that when he says 'no' he does not mean 'yes,'" said Bishop Theodore Henderson at the Methodist Church yesterday morning.

It was not a political sermon. Aside from what political significance the above quotation might have, there was nothing political about his discourse. He brought it out in referring to the President doing away with the inaugural ball in 1915, which he nearly classed as a drunken orgy run by politicians. He was emphasizing the President's "no," that his family would not be present even if he himself had to attend.

As in this story, however, the writer must be careful always to make clear the precise relation of the featured quotation to the speech as a whole.

194. Indirect Quotation.—The chief reason for quoting indirectly in the lead a single statement of a speaker is the need of shifting an important point to the very first.

That an inordinate indulgence in mere amusement is softening the fiber of the American nation and sapping its vitality, was the statement of Allen A. Pendel, president of the Southwest Press Company, at the monthly meeting of the Crust Breakers, Saturday.

195. Title Featured.—The use of the subject of the speech as a feature is advisable when it is particularly happy or when it expresses the theme of the address.

"The National Importance of Woman's Health" was the subject of Dr. A. T. Schofield's lecture at the Institute of Hygiene, Wednesday.

Taking as his subject, "The Tragedy of the Unprepared," the Rev. Otis Colleman delivered a powerful attack in Grace Church Sunday against unpreparedness in one's personal life and in the home, the state, and the nation.

196. Theme Featured.—The theme may be featured when a single-sentence quotation cannot readily be found and the subject does not indicate the nature of the address.

Condemnation of the twentieth-century woman's dress was voiced at the Ninth International Purity Congress by Rev. Albion Smith, Madison, Wis., who spoke on "Spirit Rule vs. Animal Rule for Men and Women."

197. Summary Lead.—Oftentimes the theme lead shades into a summarizing lead and the two become one of indirect quotation. Long summarizing leads of speeches are to be avoided as a rule, since they are liable to become overloaded and cumbersome. When using this lead, the writer must be particularly careful to see that the individual clauses are relatively short and simple in structure and that the relation of each to the other and to the sentence as a whole is absolutely clear.

Stating that the public schools are the greatest instrument for the development of socialism in this country, that the socialists must get control of the courts, that the party is not developing as rapidly at present as it did a few years ago, and that the opportunity that exists in this country for the individual has been largely to blame for the slow development of the Socialist party in America, John C. Kennedy, Socialist speaker and member of the Chicago common council, spoke on "The Outlook for Socialism in America" at the Social Democratic picnic held in Pabst Park on Sunday.

198. Speaker's Name Featured.—The speaker's name comes first, of course, only when he is sufficiently prominent locally or nationally to justify featuring him.

Billy Sunday made the devil tuck his tail between his legs and skedaddle Friday night.

Justice Charles E. Hughes, of the Supreme Court of the United States, came to New York yesterday as the guest of the New York State Bar Association, which is holding its thirty-ninth annual meeting in this city. In the evening at the Astor Hotel he delivered a scholarly address before that body on the topic, "Some Aspects of the Development of American Law." Then he shook hands with several hundreds of the members of the association and their friends, turned around and went right back again to the seclusion of the Supreme Court Chamber in Washington.

199. Featuring the Occasion.—Featuring the occasion of a speech or the auspices under which it was given is justifiable only when the speech and the speaker are of minor importance.

Before the first hobo congress ever held in the world William Eads Howe, millionaire president of the convention, spoke Monday on the need of closer union among passengers on the T. P. and W.

200. Featuring Time and Place.—Only rarely is the time or the place featured. But either may be played up when sufficiently important.

Speaking from the door of Col. Henry Cook's chicken house on Ansley Road to an audience of 250 colored brethren in a neighboring barn, the Rev. Ezekiel Butler, colored, began in a pouring rain Sunday night the first service of the annual Holly Springs open-air meetings.

201. Featuring Several Details.—When the speaker, the subject, the occasion, and the place are all important, it may be needful to make a long summarizing lead of several paragraphs, explaining all these features in detail. In such a case a quarter- or a half-column may be required before one can get to the address itself. The following story of President Wilson's first campaign speech for reëlection, delivered at Pittsburgh on January 29, 1916, is an illustration:

Name first

WILSON BEGINS CAMPAIGN

President Wilson as "trustee of the ideals of America," to employ his own phrase, has taken his case to the people.

Occasion

He opened here to-day the most momentous speech-making tour perhaps made by a President within a generation with an appeal to keep national preparedness out of partisan politics and to give it no place as a possible campaign issue.

Effect on Audience

The nonpartisanship urged by the President was reflected in Pittsburg's greeting to the executive.

Circumstances and Place

A Republican ex-Congressman, James Francis Burke, presided at the meeting under the auspices of the chamber of commerce in Soldiers' Memorial Hall. "Preparedness is a matter of patriotism, not of party," he said.

Story backtracks here

Audience

Pittsburg's welcome to the President and Mrs. Wilson was warm, but not demonstrative. When the speechmaking began, Memorial Hall was packed with an audience of 4,500, while on the steps and plaza outside some 8,000 or 10,000 men and women surged, unable to get admission, but eager to get a glimpse of the executive and his bride.

Reception by Audience

When the presidential party, Mrs. Wilson in front, filed on the platform there was a demonstration, brief but spontaneous, the first lady of the land drawing as prolonged applause as her husband on his appearance.

Attitude of Audience

The audience was an intent one. Its pose was one of keen attention to the President's utterances.

Applause

Occasionally a particularly facile phrase, such as when the President spoke of the need of "spiritual efficiency" as a basis for military efficiency, started the hand-clapping and gusts of applause swept through the hall.

General Effect of the Visit

For Pennsylvania, Republican stronghold, which gave Roosevelt a plurality of 51,000 over Wilson in 1912, the reception accorded the President is regarded as quite satisfactory. Downtown in the business district there was hardly a ripple.

Inquisitive Crowds

But in the neighborhood of the Hotel Schenley, out by the Carnegie Institute, a large crowd turned out a few hours after the President's arrival and kept their glances on the seventh floor, which was banked in roses and orchids.

Beginning of the Speech

"As your servant and representative, I should come and report to you on our public affairs," the President began. "It is the duty of every public man to hold frank counsel with the people he represents."[20] ...

[20] Arthur M. Evans in The Chicago Herald, January 30, 1916.

202. Body of the Story.—In writing the body of the story, the first thing to strive for is proper coherence with the lead. This caution is worth particular heed when the lead contains a single-sentence quotation, an indirect question, or a paragraph of direct statement from somewhere in the body of the speech. Few things are more incongruous in a story than a clever epigrammatic lead and a succession of quoted statements following, none of which exhibits a definite bearing on the lead. Oftentimes this incongruity is produced by the reporter's attempt to follow the precise order adopted by the speaker. Such an order, however, should be manifestly impossible in a news report when the writer has dug out for use in the lead a lone sentence or paragraph from the middle of the speech. Rather, one should continue such a lead with a paragraph or so of development, then follow with paragraphs of direct quotation which originally may or may not have preceded the idea featured in the lead.

203. Accuracy.—The second consideration must be the same accuracy and fairness that was emphasized in the discussion of the interview. Some reporters, for instance, take the liberty of putting within quotation marks, as though quoted directly, whole paragraphs that they know are not given verbatim, their grounds for the liberty being that they know they are reporting the speaker with entire accuracy, and the use of "quotes" gives the story greater emphasis and intimacy of appeal. This liberty is to be condemned. When a reporter puts quotation marks about a phrase or clause, he declares to his readers that the other man, not he, is responsible for the statement exactly as printed. And even though a man may think he is reporting a speaker with absolute precision, there is always the possibility that he may have misunderstood. Indeed, it is just these chance misunderstandings that trip reporters and frequently necessitate speakers' denying published accounts of their lectures. Only what one has taken down verbatim should be put within quotation marks. All else should be reported indirectly with an unwavering determination to convey the real spirit of the lecture or sermon, not to play up an isolated or random subtopic that has little bearing on the speech as a whole. Any reporter can find in any lecture statements which, taken without the accompanying qualifications, may be adroitly warped to make the story good and the speaker ridiculous in the eyes of the reading public.

204. Speech Story as a Whole.—The story as a whole should be a little speech in itself. Whole topics may be omitted. Others that possibly occupied pages of manuscript and took several minutes to present may be cut down to a single sentence. Still others may be presented in full. But the quotation marks and the cohering phrases, such as "said he," "continued the speaker," "Mr. Wilson said in part," etc., should be carefully inserted so as to make it entirely clear to the reader when the statements are a condensation of the speaker's remarks and when they are direct quotations. Such connecting phrases, however, should be placed in unemphatic positions within the paragraph and should have their form so varied as not to attract undue attention. And as in the interview, the report as a whole should be livened up at intervals with phrases and paragraphs calling attention to characteristic gestures, facial expressions, and individual eccentricities of the speaker's person, manner, or dress.

205. Series of Speeches.—When reporting a series of speeches, as at a banquet, convention, political picnic, or a holiday celebration, it generally is the best policy to play up at length the strongest address, or else the speech of the most important personage, then summarize the remaining talks in a paragraph or so at the end of the story. If all are of about equal importance, the lead may feature the general trend of thought of the different speakers or else some single startling statement setting forth the character and spirit of the meeting. The story may then proceed with summarizing quotations or indirect statements of the individual speakers, giving each space according to the value of his address. Where the body of the story is made up of direct and indirect quotations from several speeches, the speaker's name should come first in the paragraph in which he is quoted, so that the eye of the reader running rapidly down the column may catch readily that portion of the story given to each person quoted.

206. Banquets, Conventions, etc.—Not always, however, are speeches important, or even delivered, on these social, political, and holiday occasions. If not, the reporter must devote his attention to the occasion, to any unusual incidents or events, or to the persons attending. In reporting banquets, it may be the persons present, the novelty of the favors, the originality of the menu, or the occasion itself that must be featured. In conventions it may be the purpose or expected results, certain effects on national or state legislation, or any departures or new ideas in evidence. In reporting conventions of milliners, tailors, jewelers, and the like, one can always find excellent features in the incoming styles. The public is greedy for stories of advance styles. In political picnics the feature is practically always the speeches, though sometimes there are athletic contests that provide good copy and may be presented in accordance with Part III, Chapter XVI. In holiday celebrations also the feature may be speeches or athletic contests, or else parades of floats, fraternal orders, soldiers, etc. Usually, however, the occurrence of some untoward accident that mars the occasion itself furnishes a story feature of greater importance than the monotony of the parade and the contests.

207. Current Magazine Articles, etc.—News stories of articles appearing in current magazines, books, government publications, educational journals, and the like are of the same type as stories of addresses. The lead may feature the theme, the title, the author, a single sentence, an entire paragraph, the society or organization publishing the article or report, or even the motive back of the article. And the body follows usually with direct quotations summarizing the whole. Such news stories generally are very readable, particularly if they are timely. But the reporter must be careful to avoid extended analysis or learned comment. A long catalogue of errors with the page on which each may be found is good in scholarly magazines, but worthless in news columns. The reporter's office is to write for the entertainment and enlightenment of the public, not for the instruction of the author about whose article he is writing. Hence he should report only those details that are of interest to the readers of his journal.

208. Courts.—Court, trial, and inquest stories are but a combination of the methods of handling interviews and speeches, the questions and answers of the attorneys and witnesses being the interviews, the arguments of the lawyers and the decisions of the court being the speeches. The writing of the court story as a whole follows closely the method already outlined for interviews and speeches. The lead, however, varies greatly accordingly to the stage of the court proceedings. If a verdict has been brought in, the guilt or innocence of the defendant, the penalty imposed, or an application for a rehearing may be featured, and the body of the story continues with a statement from the prisoner, quotations from the speeches of the opposing attorneys, and the judge's charge to the jury. If the trial has reached only an intermediate stage, the lead may feature the cause of the court proceedings, a significant bit of testimony, the name of an important witness, the point reached in the day's work, the probable length of the trial, any unusual clash of the attorneys over the admission of certain testimony, or possibly the prisoner's changed attitude resulting from the long nervous strain. Then the body, as in reports of speeches, may follow with interesting bits of quotation from the testimony or from the arguments of the attorneys, with summarizing paragraphs of the evidence and the proceedings as a whole. Occasionally, in order to bring out significant points in the depositions, it may become necessary to quote verbatim questions and answers in the cross-examination, but generally a more readable story may be had by reporting the testimony continuously and omitting the questions altogether. Even when playing up a court decision, it is rarely wise to quote large extracts verbatim, owing to the heaviness of legal expression and the frequent use of technical terms. Only when the form of the decision, as well as the facts, is vital, should the language of the decree be quoted at length. And even then it is better, as a rule, to print the entire decision separately and write an independent summarizing story. When writing up trials continued from preceding days, one must be careful to connect the story with what has gone before, explaining who the persons are, the cause of their appearance in court, and where the trial is being conducted. Only in this way can readers who have not kept up with the trial understand the present story.

209. Humorous Court Stories.—A word of caution must be given against the temptation to write court stories humorously at the expense of accuracy and the feelings of those unfortunate ones drawn into public notice by some one's transgression of law or ethics. The law of libel and its far-reaching power has been dwelt on in Part II, Chapter X, and it need not be emphasized here that libel lurks in wrong street numbers, misspelled names, misplaced words and phrases, and even in accidental resemblance between names and between personal descriptions. But the reporter should be cautioned against warping facts for the sake of making a good story. Those who stand before the bar of justice, no matter for what cause, how wrong or how right, are keenly sensitive about even the publication of their names. Indeed, it is fear of newspaper notoriety that keeps many a man from seeking and obtaining that justice which is due every individual at the hands of the law. The present writer has seen many an innocent person in a state of nervous collapse over a barbed thrust made by a satirizing humorist in the columns of a paper. No criticism is made of true reports; objection is made only to those warped for the sake merely of producing a good story. In a leading Southern paper appeared the following:

FROGEYE HAD A RIVAL

Come er lef'! come er right! come er rag an' shawl!
Come to yo' honey-bunch straight down de hall!
Up towa'd de front do', back towa'd de wall,
Gimme room to scramble at de Potlicker Ball!

"What's this?" demanded the judge ferociously. "Another Potlicker row? I'm going to have to do something about you folks. You're always in hot water."

The defendants—a weird assortment of the youth and beauty of the Black Belt, their finery somewhat damaged after a night behind the bars—shifted uneasily on their respective number nines. A cross-eyed mulatto had the courage to speak, albeit a trifle morosely.

"Us ain't in no hot water, jedge," she drawled. "Us ain't been doin' nothin' but dancin'."

"What's your name, girl?" inquired the clerk.

He was answered by Frogeye, who celebrated his latest release from gaol by attending the Potlicker Ball. "Dat's Three-Finger Fanny," stated Frogeye in a voice of authority. "She done start de hull rucus."

Three-Finger Fanny bridled. Before she could open her mouth, Frogeye plunged into the tale: "Ef it hadn't er been fo' dat three-fingered, cross-eyed, blistered-footed gal we'd er been dar dancin' yit. But she an Bugabear spill de beans. She come up ter me an' say, 'Mister Frogeye, kin you ball de Jack?' I tells her she don't see no chains on me, do she? An' we whirl right in. Hoccome I knowed she promise dat dance ter Bugabear? We ain't ball de Jack twice 'roun' fo' heah he come wid er beer bottle shoutin' dat I done tuk his gal erway. I'se 'bleeged ter 'fend mahse'f, ain't I, jedge? Well, den!"

The conclusion of Frogeye's story lacked climax, but apparently the judge got the gist of it, for he said: "It seems to me all of you dancers need a summer vacation. They say there's nothing like a little arm work to improve the grip. Thirty days, everybody!"

But every reader knows that in one round-up of negro malefactors, characters such as Frogeye, Three-Finger Fanny, and Bugabear are not going to be arrested at one "Potlicker Ball." The story is a good one if the reader will suspend his sense of realism sufficiently to enjoy it. But in its purport to be a true account of an arrest and a trial of certain persons, it makes one doubt first the story, then the newspaper that printed it, and finally newspapers in general. And so develops one of the main causes of criticism of the modern newspaper. A reporter must resolve to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. A journal loses its power the moment it is wrong.

XV. ACCIDENT, CRIME

210. Accident and Crime Stories.—Accident and crime stories are grouped together because they are handled alike and because they differ from each other only in point of view, or in the fact that in the one some one is guilty of lawbreaking, while in the other the participants are merely unfortunate. The two, of course, frequently overlap, since a death or a wreck which at first may seem purely accidental may later prove to have been the result of a criminal act. In this chapter, however, accident stories will be taken to include fires, street-car smash-ups, railroad wrecks, automobile collisions, runaways, explosions, mine disasters, strokes of lightning, drownings, floods, storms, shipwrecks, etc. In the list of crime will be placed murders, assaults, suicides, suspicious deaths, robberies, embezzlements, arson, etc. Of the accident class, the method of writing a fire story may be taken as a type for the whole group.

211. Lead to a Fire Story.—Ordinarily the lead to a story of a fire should tell what was destroyed, the location of the property, the extent of the damage, the occupants or owners, the time, the cause, and what made the loss possible,—answering, in other words, the questions who, what, when, where, why, how, and how much. Thus:

Fire originating in a pile of shavings crawled across a 100-yard stretch of dry Bermuda grass at an early hour this morning, destroying the cotton warehouse at 615 Railroad Street, owned by J. O. Hunnicut, president of the First National Bank. The loss is $25,000 with no insurance.

212. Lives Lost or Endangered.—The fire lead may feature any one or more of a dozen individual incidents. Loss of, or danger to, life, unless other features are exceptional, should take precedence over every other particular.

Six women are dead and ten seriously injured as a result of the destruction by fire, Tuesday morning, of the Gold and Green Club, 1818 Chestnut Street, entailing a loss of $30,000.

213. Lists of Killed or Wounded.—In writing a story where a number of persons have been killed or injured, the reporter should observe the following directions:

1. Separate the names of the dead from those of the injured, putting the list of dead first.

2. Record the names in alphabetical order, placing surnames first.

3. Put each name, with the age, address, occupation or business, nature and extent of the injury, and any care given, in a separate paragraph.

4. Underscore the names with wave lines so that they shall be printed in display type.

BOYS SMOKE IN HAYLOFT

Three boys borrowed their father's pipes and took their first lesson in smoking yesterday in John Cadie's hayloft on the Anton road.

The Dead

Heinie Pindle, 8 years old, charred body found in ashes of the barn.

The Injured

Olin Swendson, 9 years old, burned about face and arms while trying to save Heinie Pindle.

Ben Adams, 9 years old, leg broken in jump from the hayloft.

214. Acts of Heroism.—Acts of heroism involving danger to or loss of life are always good for features.

Remaining at her post through the thick of the fire that destroyed the heart of Necedah to-day, Wisconsin's only woman telephone magnate, Miss Hazel Bulgar, proved the heroine of the day. While the flames threatened her building, she took the switchboard herself, called the fire departments of all neighboring cities, and transmitted calls for help.

215. Remarkable Escapes.—Remarkable escapes from burning buildings, in their appeal to the elemental struggle for life, make valuable features.

Using a window blind and a single thread of telephone wire as a means of escape, Carl Hardiman, 24, 216 Northcliff avenue, swung himself into space four stories above the level of the street at 8:00 o'clock this morning and crawled hand over hand from the burning wax factory to a telephone pole across the street.

216. Humorous, Pathetic, or Daring Incidents.—Humorous, pathetic, or daring incidents are worth featuring strongly, particularly when they involve children, aged persons, or animals.

Tige, aged 4, was only a collie dog, but he will have the biggest funeral to-morrow ever given a member of the Lilliman family. He dragged two of the children out of the blazing kitchen at 487 Birmingham avenue and was so badly burned trying to save the nine months baby, Dan, that he died this morning. Every hair was burned from his body.

Just inside the front entrance, within six inches of God's fresh air and life, the bodies of 21 girls, ranging in age from 6 to 18 years, were found this morning after the fire that destroyed the St. Patrick's Girls' school.

217. Cause of Fire.—The cause of the fire, if unusual or mysterious, may be featured.

A set of cotton Santa Claus whiskers and a Christmas candle caused the death Wednesday night of Allen Palmer, 18, 1416 Magnolia Avenue, and the destruction by fire of the Lake Mills Methodist church.

218. Buildings or Property.—The particular buildings, if especially valuable by reason of their age, location, or cost of construction, may be features.

Historic Grace Episcopal Church in South Wabash Avenue, considered one of the finest examples of French Gothic architecture in the city since it was erected nearly fifty years ago, was destroyed to-day in a fire that did damage estimated at $500,000.

The main building of the Union Switch and Signal Company, of the Westinghouse interests, at Swissvale, where thousands of shells have been manufactured for the Allies, was swept by fire this afternoon, entailing a loss estimated at $4,000,000. Officials of the company said that the origin of the fire had not been determined.

219. Other Features.—Similarly, one may feature any one of a number of other particulars: as, the occupants of the building, the owners, any prominent persons involved, the amount and character of the damage, the amount of insurance, how the fire was discovered, how it spread, when the alarm was given, the promptness or delay of the fire department, etc. Any one of these particulars may be featured, provided it has unusual importance or interest.

220. Body of the Fire Story.—The body of the fire story may continue with such of the details enumerated in the preceding paragraphs as are not used in the lead. Somewhere in the story the extent of the damage and the amount of insurance should be given. Those are sufficiently important particulars to be included always. Greater emphasis and action can be given the story, particularly in case of loss of life or great damage, by quoting direct statements of eye-witnesses or of persons injured. A janitor's account of how the fire started, or how he discovered it, or a woman's story of how she knew the night before that something terrible was going to happen, always adds greatly to the interest.

221. Rumors at Fires.—In reporting a fire, however, particularly a big one, the reporter should guard against the wild rumors about the extent of the loss, the number of persons injured or burned to death, the certainty of arson, etc., which usually gain currency among the spectators. Such stories are always exaggerated, and they account for the fact that first news accounts of fires are frequently overdrawn. The reporter should never take such stories at their face value, but should investigate for himself until he knows his details are accurate. Or if he cannot prove them either false or true, he should omit them entirely or record them as mere rumors. Above all, he must keep his head. With the hundreds—sometimes thousands—of spectators pushed beyond the fire lines, the roar of fire engines, the scream of whistles, the wild lights, and the general pandemonium, it is often difficult to remain calm. Yet it is only by keeping absolutely cool that one can judge accurately the value of the information obtained and can put that information into the best news form. Only the reporter who at all times retains entire possession of himself is able to write the most forceful, interesting, and readable fire stories.

222. Accident Stories in General.—Accident stories in general follow the same constructive plans as those given for fires. The lead should play up the number of lives lost or endangered, the cause of the accident, the extent of the damage or injury, the time, and the place, answering the questions who, what, when, where, why, and how. Any one of these may be featured according to its importance. If a number of persons have been killed or hurt, and their names are obtainable, a list of the dead and the injured should be made as indicated on page [150]. Then the body of the story may continue in simple chronological order, reserving unimportant details until the last. The following is a good illustration of an accident story:

DU PONT BLAST KILLS 31

Wilmington, Del., Nov. 29.—Thirty-one men were killed and six fatally injured to-day in an explosion of approximately four tons of black powder in a packing house at the Upper Hagley yard of the E. I. du Pont de Nemours & Co., on Brandywine Creek, three miles north of this city.

The cause of the explosion is not known. One official says, "There is not a thread on which to hang any hope that the origin will be definitely ascertained."

After the blast, termed the worst in the last twenty-five years, it was recalled that notices recently had been tacked on trees and fences near the yards, and even on fences within the plant, warning workmen to quit the mills by Jan. 1. At the time, the posting of the notices was believed to be an attempt by German sympathizers to intimidate the men. Extra guards were ordered about the plants and the United States Secret Service began an investigation, it was reported.

Du Pont Company officials have ordered a searching investigation, and every employee who was near the destroyed building will be put through an examination in an effort to get some clue as to the cause of the explosion....[21]

[21] New York World, December 1, 1915.

It is worth noting, in this story, the shrewdness with which the reporter plays up the probable cause of the accident, adding to the actual facts and promising possible further developments in to-morrow's paper.

223. Stories of the Weather.—The weather takes its place in the accident division of news stories because of its frequent harmful effects on life and property. Men's pursuits are all a gamble on the weather. Usually a story about the weather depends for its value largely on the felicity of its language, though when there has been severe atmospheric disturbance, resulting in loss of life, destruction of property, or delayed traffic, a simple narrative of events is sufficient to hold the reader's attention. The following are different types of weather story, the first being of the pure accident type, the second, of the more commonplace daily routine.

TERRIFIC STORM KILLS 4

Rain, hail, snow, sleet, gales, thunder and lightning combined in an extraordinary manner early yesterday to give New York one of the most peculiar storms the city ever experienced. Four persons died and scores were injured. Unfinished buildings were blown down, roofs were blown off, and signs demolished.

The storm played havoc with the railroads, delaying trains and adding to the difficulty of moving freight. It made so much trouble for the New Haven that the company last night issued a notice saying that "on account of storms and accumulation of loaded cars" only live stock, perishable freight, food products, and coal would be carried over portions of the line.

Adrift in the gale, fifteen canal barges and cargo scows from South Amboy, N. J., went ashore at Sandy Hook after those on board, including twenty women and children, had suffered from exposure and one man washed overboard from the barge Henrietta had been drowned. The California and the Stockholm, with passengers on board and inbound, were delayed by the storm and will reach port to-day.

The wind in Newark unroofed the almshouse, injuring two aged women, blew down buildings, smashed windows, and crippled the entire wire service of the city....[22]

(Then follows a detailed account of the dead, the injured, and the delay of traffic.)

[22] New York Herald, December 27, 1915.

COLD WAVE ON WAY HERE

Indianapolis to-day stands on the brink between rain and snow. Before to-morrow dawns it may bend slightly one way or the other, meteorologically speaking, and the result will be little flakes of snow or little drops of water. It is forecast that to-morrow its feet will slip entirely and it will be plunged into the abyss of cold weather. The forecast is the work of the weather man, who has some reputation locally and elsewhere as a forecaster of questionable accuracy.

Cold weather is drifting this way on northwest winds, says the weather man, and soon will be hard by in the offing, ready to pounce on Indianapolis. The fate of Indianapolis is to be the fate of Indiana also, and of the entire Middle West, for the weather man is no respecter of localities, and when he once gets started forecasts with utter abandon....

The Northwest has experienced a drop of 20 degrees in temperature and the cold wave is rapidly sweeping this way. It is due to reach Indianapolis to-morrow morning. The local forecast is for cloudy to-night and Wednesday, with probabilities of rain or snow, and colder Wednesday. It was the same for the state, but rain was predicted for the south part and snow for the north.

The temperature in Indianapolis at 7 o'clock this morning was 38 degrees, a drop of 6 degrees being recorded in the last twenty-four hours. The coming cold wave is expected to give this part of the country its first real touch of winter. The temperature hovered near the zero mark in the northwest. The weather bureau reported snow in Wyoming, Colorado, Nebraska, Iowa, and Minnesota.[23]

[23] Indianapolis News, October 28, 1913.

To write this second type of story interestingly means that the reporter must exert himself especially, since the daily routine of weather reports soon becomes wearing in its monotony,—so much so that one finds it exceedingly difficult to present with any degree of originality the same old little-varying facts from day to day. Yet one's readers are always interested in just this item of news, and one can be sure of more expectant readers for this particular story than perhaps for any other single item in the paper.

224. Deaths and Funerals.—Stories of deaths and funerals may be included in the monotonous class of accident news. There is this additional difficulty in writing death and funeral stories, however, that in attempting to write sympathetically, appreciatively, of the person who has died, and so meet the expectations of surviving friends and relatives, one is running always on the border line of bathos. It is probably easier to make oneself ridiculous in such stories than in any other kind of news article. As a result, most newspapers require their reporters to confine themselves to bare statements of facts concerning the dead person's life.

225. Content of Death Stories.—There are a few facts which all death stories should contain. The person's name, age, street address, and position or business should normally be included in the lead, with possibly a statement of the cause of his death. The duration of his illness may well follow. Then may come the names of surviving relatives and any relationships with persons well known, locally or nationally. If the person is married, the date of the marriage, the maiden name of the wife, and any interesting circumstances connected with the marriage may be recalled. The length of residence in the city should also be included, with possibly a statement of the person's birthplace and the occasion of his settlement in the city. If the person is a man or a woman of wealth, an account of his or her holdings and how they were acquired is always interesting. The story may close with the names of the pallbearers, the time and place of the funeral, the name of the minister officiating, and the place of burial. The following story of the death of Justice Lamar, while not observing the order of events just given, is an excellent illustration of a dignified presentation of the facts in a man's life. (The article has necessarily been abbreviated because of its length.)

JUSTICE J. R. LAMAR DIES

Washington, D. C., Sunday.—Mr. Joseph Rucker Lamar, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, died to-night at his home in this city after an intermittent illness of several months. The immediate cause of his death was a severe cold, which he contracted ten days ago, and which proved too great a strain for his weakened heart.

Justice Lamar's health began to fail early last summer and he was obliged to absent himself from his duties on the bench. His physicians advised a long period of rest, as they feared that over-work would seriously affect the action of his heart. Accordingly, he spent the greater part of the summer at White Sulphur Springs and returned to Washington about two months ago feeling much improved.

His condition was not such, however, that it permitted him to attend the sessions of the Court, although he was able to take outdoor exercise. Two days before Christmas he contracted a heavy cold and was obliged to go to bed. Specialists were consulted, but he gradually grew weaker until this afternoon, when he sank into unconsciousness and passed away peacefully just before nine o'clock.

At his bedside when the end came were Mrs. Lamar and their two sons. Chief Justice White arrived at the Lamar home within a few minutes after the death of his colleague.

The funeral ceremonies will be in accordance with the custom of the court. It is probable that the services will be held on Tuesday and that interment will be at the family home in Ruckersville, Ga.

Justice Lamar was born at Ruckersville, Elbert county, Ga., on October 14, 1857, the son of the Rev. James S. and Mary Rucker Lamar. He attended the University of Georgia. He was graduated from Bethany College, West Virginia, in 1877. After a year in the Washington and Lee University Law School, he was admitted to the bar at Augusta, Ga. There he lived until appointed to the Supreme Court.

He was a cousin of the late Associate Justice L. Q. C. Lamar, of Mississippi, who was a member of the United States Supreme Court from 1888 to 1893.

When Justice Lamar went on the Supreme Court bench he was little known beyond the borders of his own state. Mr. Taft became acquainted with him a short time before his inauguration when the President-elect was playing golf at Augusta. Justice Lamar had been a member of the Supreme Court only a few months, however, when his ability was recognized. His opinions were regarded as masterpieces of logical reasoning and applications for rehearings were made in few cases he helped to decide.

Justice Lamar was selected by President Wilson as the principal commissioner for the United States in the ABC mediation at Niagara Falls in 1914 between this country and Mexico over conditions in the neighboring republic.

Justice Lamar made many notable contributions to the legal literature of his state. Among them were "Georgia's Contribution to Law Reforms," "A History of the Organization of the Supreme Court," "Life of Judge Nesbit" and "A Century's Progress in Law." More than two hundred of his opinions are embraced in six volumes of Georgia Reports.

Justice Lamar married, on January 30, 1879, Miss Clarinda Pendleton, a daughter of Dr. W. K. Pendleton, president of Bethany College. He is survived by his wife and two children, Philip Rucker Lamar and William Pendleton Lamar.[24]

[24] New York Herald, January 3, 1916.

226. Obtaining the Information.—The gaining of information about a man who has just died is not difficult. One should be cautioned, however, against seeking details from members of the family. If the person is of little prominence, one should go first to the undertaker. He will have all the details about the funeral—the names of the pallbearers and of the minister, the time and place of the funeral, the place of burial—and probably all the facts about the person's life that the family wishes made public. If the undertaker does not have this information, he will be able to tell the reporter from whom it may be obtained. Additional facts may sometimes be had from the county and state directories, and even from the city directory. Old residents or close friends, too, often are able to give interesting details about the person's life, his failures and his successes, and in this way a reporter can publish an appreciative account without editorializing on the man's accomplishments. If the one who has died is of decided prominence, the reporter can find accounts of him in the various Who's Who volumes and probably a rather full obituary all ready in the morgue. One must be careful in using the morgue write-up, however, to bridge naturally and easily the gap between the new and the old material, so that the reader shall not suspect he is reading a story partly written years ago. The following is an illustration of poor coherence between the two parts:

Paris, August 12.—Pol Plancon, the opera singer, died to-day. He had been ill since June.

Pol Plancon was a bass singer and made his Paris debut in the part of Mephistopheles in 1883. He came to the Metropolitan Opera house in New York in 1893, where he sang with Melba, Calve, Eames, Nordica and Jean and Edouard de Reszke. Plancon sang for many years at Covent Garden, London....

In this case it is too obvious that the first two sentences constitute the bare cable bulletin and that the second paragraph is the beginning of the morgue story.

227. Crime Lead.—In the lead to a crime story, one may feature either the names of the persons involved, the number of lives lost or endangered, the motive of the criminal, the nature of the crime, clues leading to the identification and arrest of the criminal, possible effects of the crime, or even public sentiment resulting from the deed. Of the possible leads, probably the names of the persons involved, either of the criminal or of those whose rights were infringed, are most often played up. Thus:

Leo M. Frank was lynched two miles outside of Marietta, the home of Mary Phagan, at an early hour this morning.

Mrs. Allie Detmann, 1409 Broad St., was shot and killed yesterday by Stanley Mouldan, 1516 Philadelphia Ave. The man then shot himself in the right temple, dying an hour later in St. Elizabeth's Hospital.

The other features, however, may be found at random in any paper. Illustrations are:

Number of Lives Lost

Two women are dead at the Good Shepherd's Rest because Pat Nicke kept the back door of his saloon open on election day.

Motive

To get money to pay for his grandmother's funeral, Robert Hollyburd, 24, 1917 Monaco St., yesterday robbed the cash register of the Lengerke Brothers, sporting goods dealers, at 1654 Bradley St.

Nature of the Crime

The most brutal murder ever committed in Calloway county was discovered at an early hour this morning when the body of Dr. Otis Bennett, literally hacked to pieces, was found in the basement of his home.

Clues

The Davenport police have in their possession a large bone-handled knife which has been identified as the property of Hugo O'Neal, colored, of Cushman. The knife was found under Col. Andrew Alton's bedroom window after an attempted robbery of his home at an early hour this morning. O'Neal has not been seen since yesterday.

Results

Tim Atkins is probably dying at his shanty on Davis Street as a result of a difficulty between him and Isom Werner over a woman they met on their way home from the circus last night.

228. Body of the Crime Story.—The body of the crime story, like that of the accident, follows the lead in a simple chronological narration of events. Interest may be added by quoting direct statements from persons immediately connected with the crime,—how it feels to be held up, how the robber gained entrance to the building, how the bandits escaped. In stories of burglaries and robberies the value of the stolen goods and any ingenious devices for gaining entrance to the house, stopping the train, or halting the robbed party should always be given. It may be added that, unless the purpose is entirely obvious, as in robberies and burglaries, due emphasis should be given to the motive for the crime. One should be on one's guard, however, against accepting readily any motive assigned. The star reporter never takes anybody at his word—the police, the detectives, or even the victims—in any statement where crime is involved. He investigates for himself and draws his own conclusions.

229. Caution against Libel.—An additional caution should be added here against libel, because of the strong temptation always to make an accused person guilty before he has been adjudged so. According to American law, a person suspected of or charged with crime is innocent until he has been proved guilty. In writing crime stories, therefore, the reporter must be doubly careful to have a supposed criminal merely "suspected" of misappropriating funds, or "alleged" to have made the assault, or "said by the police" to have entered the house. And in order to present an unbiased story, the side of the supposed malefactor should be given. In the intense excitement resulting from a newly committed crime, or in the squalid surroundings of a prison cell, an accused person does not appear to his best advantage, and it is easy for the reporter to let prejudice sway him, perhaps causing irreparable injury to innocent persons. The race riot in Atlanta, in 1905, in which numbers of innocent negroes were murdered, was a direct result of exaggerated and sensational stories of crime printed by yellow newspapers. And the whole long trial and verdict against Leo M. Frank were directly affected by the same papers. If the opinion of readers is to be appealed to, the reporter should leave such appeals to the editorial writers, whose duty it is to interpret the news and sway the public whenever they will or can. The reporter's duty, as far as possible, is to present mere facts.

XVI. SPORTS

230. Slang.—In writing stories of athletic meets and games the reporter will find that in matters of language he has almost complete freedom. For this there are two reasons: the fact that it is necessary half the time to get final results of contests into print within a few seconds or minutes after the outcome has been decided, and the fact that athletic devotees—"fans" in American slang—are not naturally critical. Time is the all-important element with them. The results of a baseball game are wanted within a few seconds after the last man has been put out in the final inning. Whether the writer says the Red Sox defeated the Tigers, or nosed them out in the ninth, or handed them a lemon, means little to the followers of the game provided the information is specifically conveyed that Boston beat Detroit. Slang is freely used,—so much so that the uninitiated frequently cannot understand an account of a game. The "fans" can, however, and they constitute the public for whom reporters on the sporting pages maintain they are writing. If, then, one can brighten up his sporting stories—make them sparkling, electric, galvanic—by using slang, he will find them acceptable to any editor. The only caution to the beginner is that he must be sure every detail is clear to the "fans." Slang can easily be overdone,—much more easily than one would suppose,—with the result that an otherwise good story is choked with near humorous, foggy jargon. Better no slang than a story cloyed with it.[25]

[25] It is the belief of the author that the sporting page has not yet reached its highest level of language and that the younger of us will live to see as pure English used on the sporting page as in the other news columns. The purpose of this volume, however, is not to present the work of the reporter as it ought to be, but as it is—a fact which accounts for the above paragraph and its recommendation of the use of slang in sporting news stories.

231. Four Kinds.—An examination of sporting news stories shows four kinds: (1) those dealing with athletic events before their occurrence; (2) those reporting the events; (3) those analyzing and explaining the events and their results; and (4) those dealing with the sport in general. The second of these, the story reporting an athletic event, is not unlike the types of news stories examined in the two preceding chapters and may be discussed first, reserving for later analysis the other three because of their divergence from the normal type of news article.

232. The Lead.—The lead to a story reporting an athletic event follows with few exceptions the same general principles as the leads already examined. Unlike those studied in the preceding chapters, however, the lead to such a story often is written last, because of the necessity of writing a running account of the game as it progresses, yet of giving final results in the lead. The feature most frequently played up is the final result, with additional mention of the causes of victory or defeat, the equality or inequality of the opposing players, and any important incidents. Always too, of course, the names of the teams, the time, and the place are given. But the score is regularly the feature,—so much so that if one is in doubt about what to feature in an athletic contest, one can always play a trump card by featuring the results. Thus:

One hit and one score was all the Senators could make off the Yankees at Washington this afternoon, but that was enough. Joe Gedeon made the hit, a three bagger, and Milan passed him home when he dropped Nunamacher's high fly to center.

A tie score was the best the Maroons could do for the Hoosiers Saturday on Marshall Field. The count was 7-7 when Umpire Hanson called the game in the eleventh inning on account of darkness.

233. Names of the Teams.—Almost as frequent is the featuring of the names of the opposing teams, with the final score included at the end of the lead.

Cornell's 1915 football team wrote its name in football history in blazing letters on Franklin Field this afternoon when at the end of one of the most stirring contests ever seen on that gridiron the scoreboard read: Cornell, 24; Pennsylvania, 9.

234. Cause of Victory or Defeat.—The cause of a team's victory or defeat often makes an effective feature for the lead.

With the aid of a bewildering assortment of plays, the Syracuse University football team defeated the Oregon Agricultural College here to-day, 28 to 0.

Inability to hit, coupled with poor fielding at critical moments, caused the defeat of the New York University nine by the Stevens Institute of Technology yesterday on Ohio Field. The score was 5 to 3.

235. Individual Players.—Stellar work by individual players—even poor work when responsible for the loss of the game—often makes necessary the featuring of their names.

Jim Thorpe and George Kelly led an assault on the Dallas pitchers this afternoon while Pol Perritt and Fred Schupp were baffling the local talent at home plate. The net result was a shutout for Dallas and five runs for New York.

Wildness on the part of Foster and timely hitting by Oldring and Strunk enabled Philadelphia to defeat Boston again to-day, the score being 6 to 2.

236. Other Features.—Even the kind of weather, the condition of the grounds, the size of the crowd, or the effect of the play on the crowd may be featured:

The Weather

High winds and bad light made the marksmanship poor at the local shoot yesterday, the best score being a 93, made by Lawrence Bowen.

Condition of Grounds

The annual football game between Lawrence and Beloit yesterday, resulting in a 14 to 6 victory for Lawrence, might better have been called an aquatic meet. The best swimmers won.

Size of the Crowd

Fifty-nine thousand football fans saw the warriors of Old Eli take the Tiger's pelt yesterday at New Haven. The count was 13 to 7.

Effect on the Crowd

A disgusted crowd of 8,000 Sunday baseball fans saw the Brewers lose to the Colonels yesterday, 2 to 14.

It will be noted in these leads that the final score, while not always featured, is nevertheless always included.

237. The Body.—The bodies of stories reporting athletic contests are all but unlimited in their methods of handling, depending on the nature of the sport and the length of the story. If the sporting editor has limited the reporter to two sticks, the body may contain the lineup, the names of the officials, mention of those starring or playing particularly poorly, when and how the scoring was made, the condition of the field and the weather, and the size of the crowd. If the editor wants a fuller report, the more important plays, told chronologically, may be added. If he wishes a detailed account, all the plays should be given, the reporter following the chronological order after a full, summarizing lead. In big athletic events, the sporting editor often assigns two men, one to write a general account, the other a detailed story. In such stories it is the reporter writing the general summary who compiles the summarizing figures boxed at the beginning, giving the total attendance and receipts and making comparison with preceding events. A typical baseball story is the following:

YANKS BEAT THE SENATORS

Through some change of policy on the part of the concern which is conducting the weather this spring, the sun, which has not been at large much in recent days, was permitted to shine on the Polo Grounds yesterday. The Yankees reveled in the sunlight and chalked up their first victory of the season, beating Washington by a score of 3 to 1. A crowd of more than 20,000 people left their umbrellas and raincoats at home and sat in at the Yankee jubilee.

Charley Mullen, one of the Yanks' utility men, was rushed into the fray in the sixth inning as a pinch hitter for Wallie Pipp. Two runners were riding the bases at the time, and when Mullen flayed a single to left he also propelled Baker and Gedeon over the plate with the two units which marked the margin of the New York victory. The Yankees played just the kind of baseball everybody hoped they would and that was just a bit better than the best Washington had to offer.

A lot of people from the Edison Company who know First Baseman Judge of the Washington club well enough to call him Joe, presented him with a diamond ring. Judge used to play with the Edison team before he took to the merry life of a professional. Judge shattered baseball tradition after modestly taking the gift by going in and playing a fine game, fielding well and knocking out a clean hit. Most players after receiving a present at a ball game can be counted on to strike out.

Among the more or less prominent people present was the man for whom Diogenes, a former resident of Greece, has long been looking. There was no doubt about his being the object of the quest of Diogenes because when a ball was fouled into the grand stand and he caught it, he threw it back into the field instead of hiding it in his pocket.

Ray Fisher, who gave up his life unselfishly to teaching school up in Vermont until he found how much money there was in tossing a curved ball, did the twirling for the Yankees and on the few occasions when he was in trouble his teammates came to his support like a rich uncle. In the fourth inning it looked as if Fisher was about to take the elevator for the thirty-sixth floor, but Frank Baker came to his aid and yanked him out of trouble.

It was this way: Judge, first man up in the fourth, singled to center. Shanks was hit on the wrist and Jamieson laid a bunt half an inch from the third base line, filling the bases. Henry spun a teaser right in front of the plate and Nunamacher made a quick play by grabbing the ball and forcing Judge out as he was about to score. The base line circuit was still playing to S. R. O. McBride rapped a hopper down back of third base. Baker reached out his bare hand, nabbed the ball, touched third and forced Jamieson. He relayed the ball over to first in time to double up McBride, and Fisher was saved from a serious attack of heart failure. That was only one of three double plays the Yankees staged for Fisher's welfare.

Harry Harper, a southpaw from Hackensack, N. J., pitched for Washington until the Yankees went to the front in the sixth, and then he was succeeded by Francesco Gallia, who hails from Mexico or thereabouts.

The Yankees threatened damage in the first inning. After Maisel had fanned, Gilhooley was safe on Morgan's fumble and Magee sent him to second with a single. Baker lifted a high fly to right field, and after the catch Gilhooley raced to third and was safe by half an inch. Gedeon fouled to first for the third out.

The Senators got their run in the second. With one down, Jamieson was safe on Baker's high throw over first, the runner traveling to second. Henry died at first, and McBride punched a two-bagger to right center, which sent Jamieson home. The Yankees tied the score in the next inning, when, with two out, Magee walked. Baker and Gedeon started a double steal. It looked as if Gedeon would be a sure out at second, but he got back to first safely. Pipp ended the fun by fanning.

In the sixth Baker singled to left, and Gedeon placed a Texas leaguer back of first, which none of the Senator fielders reached. Baker was late in starting for second, and Jamieson made a bad throw to catch him, so both runners advanced a cushion. Mullen, batting for Pipp, cudgeled the ball to left, and Baker and Gedeon counted. That was all, and it was plenty to win. The score:

Two-base hits—McBride, Harper, Foster. Stolen base—Gedeon. Double plays—Gedeon and Pipp; Baker and Pipp; Peckinpaugh and Gedeon. Left on bases—New York, 7; Washington, 6. First base on errors—New York, 1; Washington, 1. Bases on balls—Off Fisher, 2; off Harper, 3; off Gallia, 1. Hits and earned runs—Off Harper, 6 hits, 3 runs in six innings; off Gallia, 1 hit in two innings. Hit by Pitcher—Fisher, (Shanks). Struck out—By Fisher, 1; by Harper, 4; by Gallia, 2. Umpires—Messrs. Owens and Connolly. Time of game—Two hours and eleven minutes.[27]

[27] New York Times, April 16, 1916.

Worth noting particularly in this story is the regulation style of indicating the lineup and the score at the end. The writer's originality of expression and his happy choice of individual incidents also add greatly to the interest of the story. The lead, for instance, is unusually good.

238. Football.—The following is a typical football story:

ARMY DEFEATS NAVY

It was just as the gray cloaked lads from West Point chanted in lugubrious measure before the game:

Go-oo-od Night, Nayvee!
Go-oo-od Night, Navy!
Go-oo-od Night—Na-ay-ve-ee!
The Army wins to-day!

They put into the chorus all the pathos, all the long-sustained notes, all the tonsorial-parlor chords of which it is capable, and those, as you know, are many.

And the Army boys, sitting in a fog which in hue just about matched their capes and caps, called the turn correctly with their vocal prediction.

It was "Good Night, Navy!" to the tune of 14 points to 0.

The youngsters from the west bank of the Upper Hudson were triumphant in their twentieth annual battle with the midshipmen from Annapolis by two touchdowns and their concomitant goals, one in the first period of play, the other in the third. The count of games now stands ten for the Army, nine for the Navy, and one tie.

President Wilson, in a topper that got wet, and with a beaming face that was sprinkled with mist and raindrops, watched the fight and stayed until the final wild whoop from the last departing cadet had sounded through the semi-darkness that fell upon the Polo Grounds along toward 4:30 p.m.

Mrs. Edith Bolling Galt, who soon is to be Mrs. Wilson, was present with her winsome smile and her white furs and her lavender orchids—fortunately, you could see her even through the haze—by the President's side.

And then there were some forty thousand others, whose ranks in life ranged down from cabinet officers and generals and admirals to ordinary civilians, who dug as deep—some of them—as $20 a seat for the privilege.

Yet, do you suppose that President Wilson or any official was the hero of the day?

We are as loyal a Democrat as anybody else, but NO.

Or do you fancy that the former belle of Wytheville, Va., who is within the month to be the First Lady of the Land, was the person toward whom all eyes were directed during most of the afternoon?

There were considerable numbers of field glasses focused upon the white furs and the lavender orchids and winsome smile. But again the reply is emphatically NO.

The leading character, the person who ought to figure away up in the top of the headlines, the one whose name was spoken more frequently than any other, was a rough, rugged, short, stocky, right half-back named Elmer Oliphant, who, according to Army statistics, is twenty-two years old, stands 5 feet 7 inches in altitude, weighs 163 pounds, and hails from Indiana.

Ollie was the boy. Before the first period of the game was more than half over, there was a fumble by a Navy back and an Army man fell upon the ball only eight yards away from the goal line of the midshipmen.

There was the crash of an Army back against the Navy line, and just a little weakening. There was another impact of a cadet against a wall that was almost but not quite solid. There remained about two or three yards to go.

Ollie was hurled in. He took the ball, sought coolly for the weakest spot he might find in a line that was almost impregnable at the moment, and then, instantly finding what he wanted, twisted his way backward through left tackle and fell across the chalk mark for a touchdown.

The way the rest of the Army boys sank their fists into Ollie's broad back when he got up, you'd have thought he'd be in no shape for any other position than lying flat upon a stretcher. But he came calmly away from the tumult of congratulation, and as soon as he could kick the mud from between his shoe-cleats he booted the ball over the cross-bar for a goal.

Throughout the rest of that period, and throughout all the next, we may skip Ollie. All he did was run around ends for distances varying from five to twenty yards, and plunge through the Annapolis line with from two to four men attached to his neck, arms, legs and back, and tear up, despite these handicaps, more earth than one of those tractor ploughs the Flivver Man is going to put on the market after he settles the European war.

Jump to the third session of the game. This was scarcely under way before a long forward pass from the Navy was grabbed on the Annapolis 45-yard line by McEwen, the agile West Point center. He ran it back twenty-five yards and when the ball finally came to rest on the muddy field with half a dozen Middies piled atop of Mac, it reposed just back of the Navy goal-line.

Gray dominated throughout the day, physically as well as sentimentally. If ever there was a sodden, cheerless, disheartening afternoon for the battle of the two arms of the service, yesterday was the one.

Luck is with the boys, usually. The golden sunshine usually glints off the gold of braid and buttons. The nicest looking girls that ever assembled within the confines of any particular area of space turn out and smile and put lofty notes into the atmosphere with their giddy gowns and hats. There's snap and verve and pepperino in the very air.

But for the first time in a long while the weather forbade all this sort of thing yesterday. From early morning a fog-blanket, wafted in from the Atlantic, hung over the town. Now and then it rained. And when you thought maybe it would clear off it rained again. The good old golosh was brought out of the spare bedroom closet and placed upon even the fairest of feet. The old brown raincoat was dragged forth into the light of day and placed above the gayest of garments.

No girl was so foolish as to take a chance on the ruin of her apparel by doing without a moisture shedder of some sort. And not a general or admiral or member of a governor's staff or other person holding the right to wear a uniform was so intensely proud as to expose his ornamentation uncovered and take a risk at pneumonia.

It was, as a matter of fact, a pretty drab-looking crowd that began to file into the Polo grounds a little after noon. You can't get much local color out of a gum shoe and a mackintosh....

The Game Play by Play

It was 2.15 when the navy squad ploughed through the mud to the center of the gridiron. The Navy stands upheaved and the midshipmen sent their battle cry ringing across the field. Almost on the heels of the Navy squad came the Army players and a great shout went up from the Army stands. Each team ran through signals for a few minutes and then the Navy won the toss and chose the east goal.

Coffin put the ball into play at 2:20 when he kicked off to the Navy. Craig caught the ball on his 25-yard line and ran it back ten yards before he was hurled into the mud. Davis tore off seven yards through the right side of the Army line and Westphal skirted the Army's left end for ten yards and a first down.

Here the Army forwards held and crushed the Navy back a yard. On the next down the midshipmen punted, but gained only five yards. Oliphant tried an end run from a kick formation, but failed to gain, and the Army punted, Coffin driving the ball to the Navy's 43-yard line.

Westphal fought a path for five yards, but then the Army defense held, and Von Heimberg kicked to Gerhardt on the Army's 10-yard line. The cadet quarterback flashed back thirty yards before he was driven out of bounds and brought to earth. A stab at the line failed to gain for the cadets and Coffin punted to Craig.

The ball sailed far down the field and the Navy quarterback had to run back a few yards to get under it. But he did not get back quite far enough. As the ball dropped he saw he had misjudged it and threw his arms up to grasp the pigskin. His fingers clutched at it, slipped off, and the ball dropped to the gridiron as the Army forwards swooped down the field.

Capt. Weyand was in the lead and his greedy fingers snatched the ball before Craig could get his bearings. It was the Army's ball and only eight yards from a touchdown. The midshipmen chorused to the Navy line to hold. And the line did its best, but its best was not good enough to throw back the Army's battering attack. Oliphant jammed his way two yards and on the next play drove through the desperately fighting Navy line within a few feet of the goal line.

Here the Navy showed a flash of power that sent the midshipmen to frenzied shouting. Oliphant on his third smash into the line was hurled back for a yard loss. The next try made the fourth down and with the cadet band blaring and the cadets shouting themselves hoarse Oliphant made his fourth drive against the Navy forwards.

It was a lunge that carried the concentrated power of the Army eleven yards behind it and it spelled a touchdown for the cadets. Oliphant with several Navy players clutching him stormed well over the line for the first score of the game. He promptly kicked the goal from touchdown and the scoreboard read: Army 7, Navy 0.

This was the signal for the Army to break into the song, "Good Night, Navy." They were still singing when Coffin kicked off for the Army....[28]

[28] Joseph J. O'Neil in the New York World, November 28, 1915.

This story may be examined critically—and imitated—for its excellence in centering the reader's interest upon the football hero, Oliphant,—a stroke which gives the article almost a short story unity of impression. The writer's shift from the game and the crowd to Oliphant is somewhat rough—note, for instance, "We are as loyal a Democrat as anybody else, but NO,"—but otherwise the story is good.

239. Getting Players' Names.—When reporting a football game, one can best follow and take notes on the plays by knowing the players by number. In big games this is made easy by the numerals on the football men's backs. On the smaller elevens this is not done, a difficulty which the reporter can overcome, however, by numbering the positions according to the regulation lineup. Thus:

Then in taking running notes during the game, one has to write only, "4 around 5 10 yds.," "2 through 7-8 to 20-yd. line," etc., filling in the names of the players after each half.

240. Basket-ball.—The accepted method of reporting a basket-ball game is much like that of football. Because in basket-ball the scores run high and the relative standings of the opposing teams are constantly shifting, it is customary in detailed accounts to give the exact score of each team at the end of every quarter. The following is a terse story of a game:

BOYS' HIGH WINS CITY TITLE

The Boys' High School captured the city basketball championship of the Public Schools Athletic League by defeating the Bushwick High School on the former's court yesterday by a score of 18 to 17. It was the second defeat sustained by Bushwick, the other reverse being administered by Eastern District, which, however, was downed by Boys' High. The ending was a sad one for the Bushwick team.

The Bushwick team showed good sportsmanship by failing to enter a protest when it was alleged that the final whistle was blown ten seconds too soon. The matter was put before Mr. Aldinger, the referee, who decided the game officially ended.

Boys' High came through with a strong finish. At the opening of the game it scored four points before Bushwick finally entered the scoring column. The game was bitterly fought until the end of the first half, which found Boys' High holding an average of 6 to 4.

In the second half Bushwick launched an attack that soon placed it in front by a score of 15 to 9. Boys' High then carried the fight into the enemy territory, and, with successive field goals by Bolotovsky, Gindee and Bonoff, the score was tied at 15-all.

The score then seesawed until Bolotovsky shot the winning point with a free goal from the foul line.

The line-up follows:

[29] New York Tribune, March 4, 1917.

In reporting a basket-ball game it is difficult to record the plays accurately unless one knows the contestants or they are numbered. The men shift their positions too quickly and constantly. To be accurate, the reporter should have a seat next to the scorer or else between two students or friends of the opposing players, so that whichever side makes a basket or an error, the reporter can get the player's name instantly.

241. Track.—Reporting a track meet is easier than baseball, football, or basket-ball since the events are run off slowly and all the results are announced to the grandstand. The following story of the 1917 meet of the Intercollegiate Association of America at Philadelphia is a good illustration:

RECORDS MADE AT INDOOR MEET

Cornell and Yale, as usual, shared the top honors at the third annual indoor track and field meet of the Intercollegiate Association of America, held last night before a crowd of 6,000 persons at the Commercial Museum in this city. The feature event of the early part of the program was a three-lap relay race between the Ithacans, Pennsylvania and State College. Crim, who ran anchor for Cornell over the last 538 yards, beat Scudder, of Penn, by an inch, the Quaker falling under the tape exhausted. In this event Cornell hung up a new record for the collegiate indoor meets by covering the three laps in four minutes, twenty seconds, two seconds better than last year, when Penn won.

In the six-lap relay race, where each of the men ran 1056 yards, Yale romped home an easy winner, John Overton beating Marion Shields, of Penn State, with yards to spare. Pennsylvania, the third team entered, finished in that position.

Yale sent an army of star timber-toppers down for the fifty-yard high hurdle event. John V. Farwell, captain of the Eli's track team, equaled the American amateur indoor record by covering the distance in seven seconds.

Richards, of Cornell, won individual honors in the sixteen-pound shot-put with a throw of 42 feet, 8³/₁₀ inches, while Cornell's team average was 40 feet, 2³/₁₀ inches.

The Cornell entries in the late events swept everything before them. Coach Jack Moakley's long-distance runners won the twelve-lap relay in the fast time of 22 minutes, 7²/₅ seconds, beating last year's record of 23 minutes, 13⁴/₅ seconds. The Ithacans also cleaned up in the running broad jump with a team average of 20 feet, 9 and ¹/₁₆ inches. Culbertson carried off the individual honors with a leap of 21 feet, 3 and ³/₄ inches.

The graduate relay race proved the most interesting event on the card. When the anchor men of Penn, Dartmouth, and Cornell started on the last four laps Riley, of Dartmouth, was leading "Ted" Meredith by fifteen yards, with Caldwell, the former Ithacan, trailing five yards in the rear of Meredith. Penn's former captain brought the crowd to its feet by overtaking Riley in the last ten yards. No time was taken. Summaries:

Three-lap relay race—Won by Cornell (Shelton, Windnagle, Acheson, Crim); second, Penn (Lennon, Walker, Dorsey, Scudder); third, Penn State (Whiting, Krall, Enoch, Cottom). Time, 4 min., 20 sec. (New indoor collegiate record).

50-yard hurdles—Won by Yale (Rodman, Davis, Offutt and Farwell), 14 points; second, Cornell (J. M. Watt, Cleminshaw, Pratt and Elsas), 10 points; third, Princeton (Crawford, H. R. Watt, Erdman, and Buzby), 6 points.

Six-lap relay—Won by Yale (Rolfe, Ireland, Cooper and Overton); second, Penn State (Shea, Foster, Whiting and Shields); third, Pennsylvania (Norriss, Price, Scudder and Humphreys). Time, 9 min., 59⁴/₅ sec.

16-pound shot-put—Won by Cornell (Richards, 42 ft. 8³/₁₀ in.; Gillies, 39 ft. 11¹/₂ in.; Howell, 41 ft. 5 in.; Schoof, 36 ft. 10⁷/₈ in.), team average, 40 ft. 2³/₁₀ in.; second, Princeton (Sinclaire, 44 ft. 9¹/₂ in.; Cleveland 41 ft. 1³/₈ in.; Nourse, 34 ft. 8 in.; Ginnert 35 ft. 1¹/₄ in.), team average, 38 ft. 6⁸/₁₀ in.; third, Penn (Wray, 30 ft. 10¹/₄ in.; Paul, 32 ft. 3³/₄ in.; Royer, 31 ft. 5⁵/₈ in.; Swann, 32 ft. 2³/₄ in.), team average, 31 ft. 6⁵/₁₀ in.

Running broad jump—Won by Cornell (Culbertson, 21 ft. 3³/₄ in.; Richards, 21 ft. ¹/₂ in.; Shackelton, 20 ft. 10¹/₂ in.; Harrison, 19 ft. 9¹/₂ in.), team average, 20 ft. 9¹/₁₆ in.; second, Pennsylvania (Jones, 20 ft. 10³/₄ in.; Bertolet, 20 ft. 7 in.; Buckholtz, 20 ft. ¹/₂ in.; Walter 19 ft. 9 in.), team average, 20 ft. 3¹³/₁₆ in. No third team.[30]

[30] Philadelphia Public Ledger, March 4, 1917.

242. Golf.—In reporting golf matches probably the best method is to lead with rather a full summary—a half-dozen paragraphs if necessary—telling the results, the character of the playing, the kind of weather, the condition of the links, and something about the competitors, then to follow with a detailed story of the game hole by hole. In the following story note that the length, the par, and the relative standing of the players is given on each hole. Note too that a numerical summary is made every nine holes.

EVANS WINS GREAT MATCH

Charles Evans, Jr., of the Edgewater Golf Club, twice winner of the Western amateur golf championship, to-day defeated Ned Sawyer of the Wheaton Golf Club 2 and 1 in the semi-final match for the great All-Western title. To-morrow Evans will meet in the 36-hole finals James Standish, Jr., of the Detroit Golf Club, whom he defeated for the same title last year at the Kent Country Club.

Standish won his way into the finals by defeating H. P. Bingham, of the Mayfield Club, to-day in a lop-sided contest, the match ending on the thirtieth green, 7 and 6.

The Evans-Sawyer duel to-day was a grueling struggle and from all points one of the greatest in the history of the Western classic. It sparkled like carbonated water as compared with the rather flat matches of yesterday.

Fought in balmy weather under almost perfect conditions, the contest afforded, from start to finish, plenty of thrills to the gallery of 2,000 followers. Old timers conceded it the best match ever fought on Ohio soil. Each player had 74 in the morning, while Evans had approximately 72 in the afternoon.

Fourteen of the thirty-five holes were won under par figures, ten were won at par, and two were ties under par, leaving only two holes at which both players were really ragged.

Sawyer shot remarkably fine golf in the out round of the morning and at the tenth hole was 4 up, but from this point Evans began to whittle down the lead. Although Chick got on even terms four times, it was not until the sixteenth hole in the afternoon that he led, and the next hole saw him winner.

The score by holes follows:

Scores by Holes

Hole 1 (385 yds., par 4). Sawyer pulled his drive into a trap from which he dug only to drop into another at the left of the green. His chip shot hit the bank and he was just on the green in 4. Evans was 60 feet from the pin on his second, but his weak approach putt gave him a 5. Sawyer took three putts and counted a 7 for the first hole. Evans 1 up.

Hole 2 (310 yds., par 4). Evans pulled his tee shot, but got a fair lie. His approach pitch was short. Sawyer got 250 yards on his drive, pitched eight feet short, and holed an uphill putt for a win, 3-4. All square.

Hole 3 (445 yds., par 5). Two wonderful wooden shots landed Sawyer eight feet from the pin, where he missed his putt for a 3 and kicked the ball in for a 4, one under par. Evans pulled his drive to the rough from which he made a woeful pull with his cleek to the weeds guarding the right of the fairway. He was 20 yards short of the green on his third and lost, 5-4. Sawyer 1 up.

Hole 4 (170 yds., par 3). This hole was halved in 3, the features being Sawyer's 30-foot, downhill putt and Chick's miss of a two-foot putt. Sawyer 1 up.

Hole 5 (325 yds., par 4). Evans was wild again from the tee, his drive being sliced to the brook where he got a lie on the slaty bottom. He banged out a high shot with his niblick, but went over the green to the rough and was short on his return. Sawyer was fifteen feet from the hole on his second and won, 4-5. Sawyer 2 up.

Hole 6 (515 yds., par 5). From the high sixth tee Evans pulled a low drive to the trees. He made a great out with his mashie, being lucky in escaping the trees. Sawyer lined out two of his regulation wooden shots and was twelve feet from the flag on his second. Evans heeled his long mashie shot to the right of the green, from which he missed his four and conceded the hole, Sawyer being dead in 3. Sawyer 3 up.

Hole 7 (310 yds., par 4). Evans left his unruly driver in the bag and played a cleek shot for the seventh hole, Sawyer outdriving him forty yards. Chick's pitch took a bad bound, but stopped eight feet from the hole. Sawyer's pitch ran entirely across the green. Evans's putt just trickled into the cup, winning for him, 3-4. Sawyer 2 up.

Hole 8 (145 yds., par 3). Both pitched to the green. Sawyer putted dead and laid Evans a dead stymie. In attempting the five-foot slanting putt, Chick knocked Sawyer's ball into the hole, losing 2-4. Sawyer 3 up.

Hole 9 (435 yds., par 5). Both got straight drives into a driving wind at the long ninth. Two perfectly played iron shots met with unmerited punishment, both balls touching the top of the hill and running over the fast green into a trap. Both missed rainbow putts for fours and halved in 5. Sawyer 3 up at the turn.

243. Tennis.—In reporting tennis matches one may use the following as an acceptable guide. The summary by sets at the end of the story in all probability was obtained from the scorer.

JOHNSTON WINS CHAMPIONSHIP

William M. Johnston inscribed his name upon the classic national tennis singles championship most impressively yesterday, using a forehand stroke that left no dispute as to his right to the title. The young player, who two seasons ago was hailed as the successor to Maurice E. McLoughlin, made good the prediction by the score of 1-6, 6-0, 7-5, 10-8, while thousands cheered the vanquished McLoughlin and the new holder of the highest honors of the American courts. It was a memorable battle and an inspiring scene at the climax on the field of the West Side Tennis Club, at Forest Hills, L.I., when the two men fighting for a sporting honor, and fighting with all that was in them, almost collapsed at the end, and hoisted on the shoulders of their comrades, with the cheers of the 7,000 spectators ringing in their ears, were carried from the field.

While the homage paid to Johnston for winning one of the greatest matches the All Comers' tournament has ever known in its thirty-five years was sincere and true, still on all sides there was regret that McLoughlin, the hero who overwhelmed Norman E. Brooks and the late Anthony F. Wilding in the great Davis Cup matches last year, would not have the permanent possession of the All Comers' Cup on which his name is twice inscribed.

It was not the same McLoughlin who stood in the court yesterday that overwhelmed the famous Australasians a year ago. Time had taken something from his game, and as ever youth must be served. In this instance it fairly leaped to its reward. Except for the first set and the briefest of intervals thereafter, Johnston was always the master of his mighty adversary. He knew the game of his opponent, and as in the ancient days when Greek met Greek, it was the dynamic power, resourcefulness, and stroke of Californian against Californian, with no quarter asked or given. Two months before the two had played for the Exposition championship at San Francisco, and at that time McLoughlin had carried the match and title after five of the hardest sets which the tournament produced. Then "The Comet" was on his old field of asphalt with the ball bounding so high that he could bring off his overhanders and where such a thing as ground strokes were unknown.

Probably never in all the years of the historic All Comers has a player displayed such phenomenal command of the ball with a forehand stroke. There were many competent judges present yesterday who declared that its equal was not to be found on the courts anywhere....

It was a stroke that stood the test, for no less than eight times in the fourth set was Johnston within a point of claiming the All Comers as his own when McLoughlin made thrilling stands as of old, and pushed the victory on a little further. When he moved up to the net in the ever-flashing rallies all the power and certainty of Johnston's forehand came into action. Alert, with the eye of an eagle that saw every move and the flight of the ball as McLoughlin drove it at him with all his might, the younger player whipped the returns into the corners. He was like a cat on his feet, quick and sure, never making a false move. There were times when he nipped the best drives that the Comet sent over, and turned them back for passes. Repeatedly McLoughlin overhanded the ball for what to him seemed a certain ace, so that he relaxed and dropped his racquet to rest, as if the point were finished. Johnston made his recovery, however, and sending the ball back found McLoughlin off his guard and so scored the point.

The cross volleys into the corners, the spots that had proved so profitable against Williams on the previous day, were the chief bit of manœuvring that electrified the crowd. As Johnston played it, it was as irresistible as trying to check the march of time. He sent the ball into the left-hand corner of McLoughlin's court like a bolt of chain lightning. In order to play the ball with any success McLoughlin usually danced around it for a forehand shot, which put him wide of the court. Calmly stepping in to meet it, Johnston crossed with ever-increasing pace into the opposite corner. It was run, run, run for McLoughlin if he wanted the ball. He was on the defensive, and it was a position, as in all of his matches, in which he does not scintillate. So relentlessly was the younger player forcing the former champion and veteran that, even when he had glowing opportunities to make the point, McLoughlin put his racquet to the ball too soon, and so piled up a total of 42 nets and 38 outs, as compared to 37 nets and 26 outs for his rival. That was chiefly where the difference stood, for on actual earned points by placement Johnston only had a tally of 53 to 51 for the Comet....

[31] New York Times, September 8, 1915.

244. Boxing Matches.—News stories of boxing matches are but a combination of the methods of writing football games and golf matches. The first part of the story of a boxing contest should be a full general account of the fight, the fighters, the character of the boxing, the weight, height, and reach of the pugilists, their methods of attack and defense, the crowd, total and individual receipts, the exact time of the beginning and end of the fight, etc. The second part, like the golf report, should be a detailed running story of the fight by rounds. The following story of the Willard-Moran match at New York in 1915 may be examined as an example:

WILLARD WINS ON POINTS

Jess Willard, the heavyweight champion pugilist of the world, hammered and pounded Frank Moran of Pittsburgh for ten rounds in crowded Madison Square Garden last night, but with his advantage of fifty pounds in weight, six inches in height, and six inches in reach, the Herculean Kansan could not knock out the courageous Pittsburgh boxer.

Willard had every advantage throughout the bout except one flash in the seventh round, when Moran, with teeth set and the fire of anger in his eye, made a wonderful rally and showered Willard's jaw with hard blows just before the bell sounded.

The champion hit Moran hard enough and often enough to knock out half a dozen men, and after the bout he said that the only reason he was forced to let up and not use his famous righthand punch was because he broke his right hand in the second round and was afraid to hit hard after that. It was in whipping a vicious uppercut for the chin that Willard smashed the hand against Moran's elbow. At the time, Moran was groggy, and although the seconds in the champion's corner yelled for him to tear in, Willard had to stand back.

When the champion's glove was removed after the bout, the hand was badly swollen, and he was rushed away from the Garden to be attended by a surgeon.

The crowd that witnessed the bout was the largest ever seen at a glove contest here. The Garden from the floor to the upper gallery was jammed until there was hardly room to stand. Although women spectators were encouraged to see the bout, few responded, not more than 200 being seen in the arena boxes. Well-known men in all walks of New York life, however, were grouped about in evening clothes, and gave the boxing match as much tone as a night at the opera. A few of the women spectators wore evening clothes, but the greater part of them were clad in the smart new spring suits which fill all the city's finery shops.

Financially the bout was a huge success and a tribute to the enterprise of the Western promoter, Tex Rickard. The receipts amounted to $150,000. Of this Willard got $52,600, including $5,100 for his share of the motion pictures. Moran got $23,500 for his share. It was an enormous remuneration for both men for their forty minutes in the ring.

This first appearance of the new champion in the ring since his defeat of Johnson in Havana a year ago had set the town talking, and prominent men in New York and other cities did not hesitate to pay $25 a seat to see the bout. As Willard was such an over-ruling favorite the betting was perhaps the lightest ever known in a bout in which a champion has taken part....

It was 9:40 o'clock when Willard hopped into the ring and got a big cheer. He was soon followed by Moran, who had even a greater reception. While the two contestants were waiting nervously in their corners the announcer, Joe Humphries, had the proudest moment of his career when he gathered the great figures of the fistic world into the same ring. Jim Corbett, Bob Fitzsimmons, Kid McCoy, and John L. Sullivan all stood together and shook hands. The reception to John L. must have made the white-haired old man's heart warm, for the old timers in the crowd who remembered when he could beat anything in the ring cheered him until they were hoarse.

In the champion's corner were Tom Jones, Walter Monahan, and Jack Hemple. In Moran's corner were Willie Lewis, Bill McKinnon, and Frank Kendall. Willard's weight was a big surprise. When he stripped off his green bathrobe the champion weighed 259 pounds, which was ten pounds more than his handlers said he weighed and twenty pounds more than when he defeated Johnson in Cuba. It was just 9:55 when "Old Eagle Eye" Charley White called the men to the center of the ring and said, "Be good, boys, and break when I tell you." ...

THE FIGHT BY ROUNDS

First Round

The men met in the center of the ring. Willard blocked Moran's left to the head and they clinched. Willard missed a right and left that slid off Moran's shoulder. Willard landed lightly with the left to Moran's face and followed with two more. A left jab was all that Willard used in the first few moments. Then Moran landed a left to Willard's chest, and rushing in close tried to get to his jaw with two blows, but failed. Moran was wary and covered up as he came in on Willard. He also missed a left swing that was wild by several inches. Willard sent a left to Moran's head that jarred the challenger, and he tried to come back with blows to Willard's head, but failed. Moran could not reach the jaw of the champion. Willard missed a right lead, Moran stepping in close and evading the blow. One blow that Willard landed clean, a left to the head, made Moran wary. Moran could not get any blows to Willard's face.

Second Round

Willard met Moran three-quarters of the way over the ring and they clinched. Moran landed a left to Willard's head after they broke and then they milled in the center of the ring, neither doing any particular damage. They were chary of doing work for the next several seconds, Willard waiting to have Moran lead. Willard pushed aside Moran's guard and led with a left to the head which was blocked. Willard forced Moran around the ring and battered him on the head with rights and lefts. The challenger was almost pushed through the ropes. Moran missed a left lead that was blocked by Willard. Moran feinted and made a wild hay-making swing that missed. He then struck one blow to Willard's chest that had little force behind it. Moran led with his left and reached Willard's stomach, but the champion did not mind the blow seriously. Two right swings by Moran pounded on Willard's shoulders and the champion retaliated with a light left jab to the face. Both were perspiring from the intense heat of the big arc lights. Willard seemed to toy with Moran in this round, not exerting himself to take the aggressive....[32]

[32] New York Times, March 26, 1916.

245. The Unwholesome in Boxing Matches.—One caution should be given in writing about boxing contests,—the need of presenting the wholesome rather than the unwholesome side. A report of a bout may be written in such a way as to appeal to the barbaric nature of one's readers, to make them revel in the mere drawing of blood rather than in the skill, the dexterity, the generalship of the contestants. The difference is in the reporter's point of view and depends not so much upon accuracy of presentation as upon his purpose to choose those wholesome details that have been successful in retaining pugilism as an American sport despite its many undoubted accompanying evils. In the following extract, for instance, the appeal is unhealthful; it savors rather of the Spanish bull-ring than of a legal sport in the United States:

What a fight it was! One worthy of Mars himself! The stage setting was complete to the minutest detail. There had been quite enough smashed noses in the preliminaries to whet the appetite for action to its keenest edge. And the main event was put on so quickly after the semi-final that this lust for battle had no chance to cool. Moran led with a snappy left hook that drew blood from Coffey's nose. With this first faint scarlet trickle the gallery gods went wild. A second quick jab gashed an old scar above Jim's left cheekbone and covered his face with blood, to the delight of Frank's friends in the center box.

246. Automobile Races.—Stories of automobile races follow closely the types of sporting news stories already examined. The following may be taken as an illustration:

NEW WORLD'S RECORD BY RESTA

Speedway Park, Aug. 7.—(Special).—The world's 100-mile speed championship was won by a hood this afternoon—the hood of Dario Resta's wonderful Peugeot.

Cheers from 15,000 throats drowned the roar of the engines as the Resta Peugeot and Earl Cooper's Stutz wound up a race unparalleled for thrills and dashed side by side up the home stretch and over the finish line. Resta won $20,000.

Resta smashed Porporato's record of 99.05 miles an hour on the Chicago speedway by driving the 100 miles at an average speed of 102.85 miles an hour.

Through the whole hundred miles, most of which were reeled off at the record breaking clip of 104.6 miles an hour, the two leaders were seldom separated by more than a car length.

Tire trouble early in the race put Oldfield in his Delage and Burman in his Peugeot out of running. They trailed along in a tremendous effort to overcome the handicap, but trailers they remained.

Once, on the thirty-sixth lap, it seemed that Resta had lost. A tire went bad and he was forced to stop. But in just 26 seconds he was on his way again.

By that time Cooper had flitted far in the lead—so far that had he not suffered a similar mishap himself a few laps later, the game Italian never could have overtaken him. Resta was again in the lead when Cooper's bad tire was replaced.

The cars lined up for the trial lap at 3:30, Oldfield starting first. A roar of cheers from the grandstand greeted Earl Cooper in his white Stutz as he started on the initial parade around the track.

Fred J. Wagner, the man with the red flag, stood astride the tape and started the cars on their flying race at 3:44 P.M.

The Race by Laps

First Lap.—Resta led in the first lap, Cooper second, Burman third, with Oldfield trailing.

Second Lap.—On the second lap Resta stretched his lead, Cooper closed up on him, only a car's length behind; Burman came third, with Oldfield fourth, a wide interval separating Burman and Oldfield from the leading contestants.

Third Lap.—Resta was leading, with Cooper close behind, and Burman third. Oldfield brought up the rear.[33]...

[33] Milwaukee Journal, August 8, 1915.

247. Billiards.—In billiard matches the chief thing to note, in addition to points already mentioned in other sporting news stories, is the scoring of the individual runs. If it is necessary to write up the individual innings, the same style is used as indicated in golf and racing stories.

HOPPE OUTPLAYS YAMADA

Boston, Oct. 21.—Willie Hoppe, the champion, led Koji Yamada, his Japanese challenger, 1,000 to 743 points at the close of their second night's play for the 14.1 balkline billiard championship at Convention Hall this evening. Yamada's total to-night was 396. As was the case last night, both men played carefully, which accounted for the long time necessary to finish the game.

Hoppe's high run was 104, and came late in the contest, his average being 19 6-26. Yamada's best run was 82, and as it came soon after a run of 75, it enabled him to take the lead from the American for the first time in the match. His average was 13 22-25.

Yamada in the first half of the game gave a pleasing display in which for the first time he showed brilliancy at the masse. Hoppe was not up to form during the early innings and got his points only by hard struggle. Both players had a good deal of open table shooting to do. The score:

Hoppe—49, 30, 2, 31, 3, 0, 22, 5, 23, 24, 4, 0, 8, 0, 17, 7, 55, 0, 44, 11, 104, 31, 0, 24, 5, 7—500. Average, 19 6-26.

Yamada—9, 2, 1, 45, 30, 0, 75, 0, 45, 4, 2, 82, 0, 1, 31, 1, 0, 0, 9, 2, 3, 0, 1, 7, 3—347. Average, 13 22-25.[34]

[34] Atlanta Constitution, October 22, 1915.

248. Obtaining Information.—In reporting games and contests one will have little difficulty in obtaining all needed information. Tickets are provided gratis and admit always to the best seats, known as the press seats, or the press-box, where all the newspaper men are grouped together. If the contest is an outdoor meet, the press-box is usually on the top of the bleachers. Here are installed telegraph and telephone wires, the papers often having private wires from their offices to the field. If the wires have not been installed and it is necessary to report between quarters or halves, or inning by inning, one should have the local telegraph company provide at least two messengers to take the bulletins as fast as one writes them. And one's notes should be so taken that the bulletins may be given the messengers within a few seconds after it is possible to report.

249. Personal Opinion in Sporting Stories.—On page [165] mention was made of four kinds of sporting news stories, and the reader's attention was called to the fact that three of the four—those dealing with athletic events before their occurrence, those dealing with the same events afterward, and those relating to sports in general—vary somewhat from the normal type of newspaper story. This variance lies in the fact that the three are hybrids, partaking of the nature of both the pure news story and the editorial. In an earlier chapter we have seen that the purpose of the news story is to present news; of the editorial, to interpret. We have seen that the avowed purpose of the editorial is to influence opinion. And so with these three types. They may be either presenters or interpreters of sporting news, or both. In the following story the writer is bent on telling the lineup of the Michigan team for the game against Cornell, the condition of the men, etc., but he is also bent on proving to his readers that Michigan has a chance to win,—which makes his story half editorial and half news.

MICHIGAN HAS A CHANCE

Ann Arbor, Mich., Nov. 5.—(Special).—We might lead this story with something original and say that both teams were awaiting the whistle. Instead, we will be unique and assert that Michigan has a chance to win.

A victory over Cornell would make a success of a season that has a good start toward being a failure. Michigan's chance for victory depends on its line. There is grave doubt in the minds of some that Michigan has a line. Yost believes it has, because he has seen his center, his two guards, and his two tackles charge and block in practice. He hasn't seen them do anything in games but look sick. But he knows they can do something else and he is wondering if to-morrow will be the day when they prove it to the public and to Cornell.

If the Michigan line should play tomorrow as it played against the Aggies and against Syracuse, the best back field in the land would be null and void. But if the Michigan line comes to life, performs as it has done when Assistant Coaches Schultz, Almendinger and Raynsford were scrimmaging against it and using all the words they knew as lashes to drive it to action, then Cornell will find itself up against the toughest foe it has faced this year.

Yost admits he has a good back field. His combination of one senior, one junior and one sophomore—Catlett, Maulbetsch and Smith—would, he believes, gain acres of ground against any team in the country if the line would give them half a chance.

Smith, to be sure, is in bad shape. He is going to start the game, but few expect him to last through. Bay City gave him to Michigan, and before he was hurt he showed enough to convince his coach that he has the makings of another Galt.

He is of the versatile type, and besides being a good ground gainer himself, he is of great assistance as an interferer and a handy man on defense. He backs up the line when the other side has the ball. At present almost everything ails him, save possibly barber's itch and the h. and m. disease that helped make Niles famous.

Maulbetsch, Yost says, is a better defensive man than last year. As for his plunging prowess, he is probably just as classy as ever, but a man can't plunge very far when two or three opposing linemen are sitting on him, as they were in the M. A. C. and Syracuse games.

Catlett is a streak of speed, and since this is his third year of varsity football, he is playing more intelligently than ever. Roehm, the quarterback, was one of Hughitt's understudies last season. He is light, but fast and willing.

Thus in the back field we have a good all round man, a wonderful line plunger, a speed demon, and an agile, hard worker. All of which assets won't be worth a yesterday's transfer unless the line holds....[35]

[35] Ring W. Lardner in the Chicago Tribune, November 6, 1915.

250. Advance Stories.—The details which one may include in advance stories of athletic meets are innumerable. Some of the more important particulars, however, are predictions of the outcome, the effect of the contest on future events or on the rank of the teams, names of the players and the officials, absence of important men, opinions of the men, their trainers, or their followers, weak spots in their play, local or national interest, time and place of the contest, ways of reaching the field or grounds,—in fact, any details that will interest one's readers in the approaching game. Such preliminary writeups require good reporters—men who can observe closely and analyze carefully, and hence can give their readers reasonable predictions of the success of the teams in which they are interested. The following may be taken as a typical preliminary story:

PROMINENT OFFICIALS AT GAME TO-DAY

Facts About To-day's Football Game

Teams—Army and Navy.

Place—Polo Grounds.

Time—2 p.m.

Corps of Cadets and Brigade of Midshipmen march on the field—1 to 1.30 p.m.

Weather Forecast—Fair and warm; rain late in the afternoon or night.

Routes to the Grounds—Eighth and Ninth Avenue "L" and Broadway subway.

Directions for Finding Seats—On the back of each ticket are printed directions for locating the seats in the various sections.

When the referee's whistle sends the Army and Navy teams charging into each other this afternoon at the Polo Grounds, most of the United States government officials, army, navy and marine corps officers will be gathered in the seats and boxes around the sidelines to cheer 1915's football season on to its death in the spectacularly most brilliant game of the year.

President Wilson, doomed again to neutrality, will divide his time between the Army and Navy sides of the field. Mrs. Galt will arrive with him shortly before 1 o'clock on the train which brings besides them one of the largest and most distinguished delegations of government officials, army and navy officers, who ever saw an Army-Navy game.

Secretary Garrison will be whooping it up for the Army on the cadets' side of the field. Secretary Daniels, reinforced by his twenty-one-year-old son, will be right there where the Blue and Gold of the Navy waves, and take it from the Navy this Secretary is some rooter when he gets going.

Secretary McAdoo will be there—but why attempt to name all or many of the prominent folk. Cabinet officers, admirals and generals, all take a back seat to-day. In the full glare of the limelight stand the twenty-two gridiron fighters from West Point and Annapolis. To-day there is only one firing line; it's the chalk-marked field at the Polo Grounds.

The Midshipmen arrived here Thursday and went to the Vanderbilt yesterday. The Army team, coaches, trainers, and advance delegation of officers arrived, making the Hotel Astor their headquarters. Every train from Washington, from Annapolis, from West Point, which pulled into New York thereafter was packed with Army and Navy adherents.

And Broadway was ready with its usual welcome. The Vanderbilt, Astor, Waldorf, McAlpin, and Martinique were profusely decorated with the flags and with Army and Navy colors. Generals met cub lieutenants in the cafés and dining-rooms (where seats had been reserved both for last night and to-night weeks in advance), all eager to get some late "dope" on the game.

Store fronts were gay with the Navy Blue and Gold and the Army Black and Gold and Gray; street hawkers were disposing of the winning colors. New York was on its biannual football spree last night. The Army and Navy were in town....

Betting? Well, as a Navy man put it, "We've got a few iron men with us." Yes, they all came "heeled." Navy men are asking 2 to 1 and getting it in spots. But as the hours slipped by and the old Army-Navy feeling grew, there was no telling the odds—each man bet as the impulse of the moment prompted him, anywhere from 3 to 1 to even money.

Referee, W. S. Langford, Trinity; umpire, F. W. Murphy, Brown; field judge, J. A. Evans, Williams; head linesman, Carl Marshall, Harvard.[36]

[36] New York World, November 27, 1916.

251. Review Stories.—Stories written days after a game are generally of an analytical nature, their purpose being to review the play or contest and explain why one team or contestant was successful and the other a failure, or why one method of play, attack, or defense proved better than others. Sometimes, however, such stories are merely individual incidents learned late, but of interest nevertheless to the readers. An analytical story is the following:

NEW RULES UPSET TEAMS

With the advent of October, the month which generally ushers in the football seasons, the defeat of Yale by Virginia was one of the most conspicuous cases of the old adage that history will repeat itself in football as well as in any other line of athletic endeavor.

In former years supposedly stronger elevens have met with unexpected setbacks from teams which were thought to be only tools in the helpful development of the big elevens for the harder and more important contests to be played later in the season. In the old days of the five-yard rule and mass play, schedules could be outlined with so much accuracy that a coach or athletic director seldom made mistakes in his schedules.

In those days the chart was framed so that each succeeding game would be harder to win.... The teams were sent into the game to test the pet plays of the coaches, such as the revolving mass on tackle, hard concentrated attacks on and off the tackles, with the runner being pushed and pulled by his teammates....

If plays as outlined by the coaches did not make the necessary distances, then the teams practically settled down to a man to man contest, and football history records the number of games which ended either in scoreless ties or knotted counts.

Following this old custom, the big teams select the opponents who in the old days were easy to beat in the first games. It is true some changes have been made in schedules, but it is only reasonable to assume that the coach of a large eleven would be foolish to schedule an opening contest with a team which he thought had a chance to beat his own aggregation.

Using Yale as an example, the authorities at New Haven would never have scheduled the Virginia game unless they thought in their own minds that Old Eli would trot off the field an easy winner. On the last Saturday in September the Blue eleven had an easy time winning from Maine, 37 to 0.

Following the changes in the rules, coaches nowadays cannot afford to take a chance with any team, whether they have a heavy, strong team or a well balanced eleven. The players do not get accustomed to the excitement of actual combat so early in the season, and the least little thing which goes wrong in their offensive or defensive play will unbalance them for the remainder of the contest.

Harvard, last year's eastern champion, was compelled to play a lot of football to win from the Massachusetts Aggies by a single touchdown. Had Percy Haughton, the Crimson coach, thought his team would experience such a hard game so early in the season, the contest would not have been listed. The Crimson eleven, in other words, was opposed by a team which had been thoroughly groomed in every department of the game, the Aggies apparently realizing what a victory would mean to them.[37]...

[37] Walter H. Eckersall in the Chicago Tribune, October 10, 1915.

252. General Stories.—The last type of sporting news story, that relating to a sport only in a general way, may be considered briefly. In this type the actual news value is small. The interest of the story lies rather in its informative worth, the writer's purpose being to present general, but significant, facts that will interest followers of the sport. Usually it is expository. Its nature is well illustrated by the following subjects chosen practically at random: "Batters in the American Association Weaker in 1916 than in 1915"; "Title Holders in the Ring Play Safety First—Refuse Long Battles"; "Tennis Gaining in Popularity"; "Is Baseball a Back Number?"; "Any Man Can Play Par Golf"; "Ty Cobb's Place in Baseball History." Such stories are valuable in the Sunday edition, and in addition to giving general surveys of various sports, help to interest readers when athletic news is scarce. They are the feature stories of sports.

XVII. SOCIETY

253. What Society News Is.—The society editor's work concerns itself with the social and personal news of the city and county in which the paper is published or from which it draws its patronage. It is almost entirely local, news of the state or of other cities being of value only in so far as it affects women and men of one's own town through former exchanges of courtesy or hospitality, or for similar causes. Nor does it concern itself with the unconventional, the abnormal. Elopements, clandestine marriages, unusual engagements, freakish parties, and similar extraordinary social and personal news do not come within the sphere of the society editor, but take regular, and usually prominent, places in the news columns.

254. Difficulty.—The society editor's work is with the conventional in the local fashionable world, and for this reason probably no other kind of news demands so consistent care, discrimination, and habitual restraint. She—the society editor is practically always a woman—must recognize readily relative social distinctions, to know what names and functions to feature in her column or section, and to be able to present the details of those functions acceptably to the various social groups about which and for which she is writing. The latter requisite in particular is difficult. For in attempting to give appreciative accounts of weddings, dances, receptions, she is liable to overstep the narrow limits of conventional usage and make herself ridiculous by extravagance of statement; or else, in trying to avoid unnecessary display of enthusiasm, she is led into use of trite, colorless words and stock phrases. She must by all means take care not to say that "the handsome groom wearing the conventional black and the lovely bride arrayed in a charming creation of white satin consummated their sacred nuptial vows amid banks of fragrant lilies and beautiful, blushing roses to the melodious strains of Mendelssohn's entrancing wedding march."

255. Illustrations.—The following stories of engagements, weddings, dinners, dances, receptions, club meetings, and charity benefits have been selected at random to show the accepted methods of handling society write-ups. At the end are added a few personal items—personals, they are generally termed—and a single "society review." The restraint and dignity of tone of the stories are worth close study.

ENGAGEMENTS

Mr. and Mrs. George A. Stewart, of 311 North Parkside Avenue, announce the engagement of their daughter, Gladys, to Charles M. Sailor, a son of Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Sailor, of 25 South Central Boulevard.

The first debutante of the season to become engaged is Miss Bessie Allen, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. George Osborne Allen, whose engagement to Harry O. Best was announced Saturday. Mr. Best is a son of Mr. and Mrs. George R. Best, of 131 East Fifty-fourth street. He was graduated from Harvard in 1913 and is a member of the Knickerbocker Club of this city, and also of the Balustrol Golf Club. He is a member of the firm of Best and Flom, 136 Walker Street. Mr. Best is the third in direct line to bear his name, being a grandson of the late George R. Best, one of the most noted architects of this city. The wedding will take place in the spring.

WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENTS

In the Church of the Heavenly Rest on Tuesday afternoon at 3:30 will be celebrated the wedding of Miss Doris Ryer, daughter of Mrs. Fletcher Ryer of San Francisco, Cal., to Stanhope Wood Nixon, son of Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Nixon. The wedding ceremony will be witnessed by a large number of relatives and friends from California and several of the principal Eastern cities where the families of both the bride and her fiancé are prominent.

Gov. Charles S. Whitman is to act as Miss Ryer's sponsor and will give her away. Miss Phyllis de Young, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Michael H. de Young of San Francisco, will be the maid of honor and the bridesmaids will be the Misses Pauline Disston of Philadelphia, Ray Slater of Boston, Mary Moreland of Pittsburg, Elizabeth Sands of Newport, Frances Moore of Washington, and Helen Flake of this city.