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diff --git a/old/61982-0.txt b/old/61982-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1133872..0000000 --- a/old/61982-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10112 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Profession of Journalism, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: The Profession of Journalism - A Collection of Articles on Newspaper Editing and - Publishing, taken from the Atlantic Monthly - -Author: Various - -Editor: Willard Grosvenor Bleyer - -Release Date: April 30, 2020 [EBook #61982] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROFESSION OF JOURNALISM *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - THE PROFESSION OF JOURNALISM - - - - - OTHER COLLECTIONS - - -drawn from _The Atlantic Monthly_ are published under the following -titles:— - - ATLANTIC CLASSICS, _First Series_ $1.25 - - ATLANTIC CLASSICS, _Second Series_ $1.25 - - HEADQUARTERS NIGHTS. By _Vernon Kellogg_ $1.00 - - THE WAR AND THE SPIRIT OF YOUTH. By _Maurice Barrès_ and Others $1.00 - - PAN-GERMANY: THE DISEASE AND CURE. By _André Chéradame_ $ .35 - - THE ASSAULT ON HUMANISM. By _Paul Shorey_ $1.00 - - SHOCK AT THE FRONT. By _William T. Porter M.D._ $1.25 - - ATLANTIC NARRATIVES. Edited by _Charles Swain Thomas_ $1.00 - - ESSAYS AND ESSAY WRITING. Edited by _W. M. Tanner_ $1.00 - - - THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY PRESS - - BOSTON - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THE PROFESSION OF - JOURNALISM -A Collection of Articles on Newspaper Editing and Publishing, Taken from - the Atlantic Monthly - - - EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY - WILLARD GROSVENOR BLEYER, PH.D. - - _Author of “Newspaper Writing and Editing” and “Types of News Writing”; - Professor of Journalism in the University of Wisconsin_ - -[Illustration] - - The Atlantic Monthly Press - BOSTON - - - - - _Copyright, 1918, by_ - THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY PRESS, INC. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - PREFACE - - -The purpose of this book is to bring together in convenient form a -number of significant contributions to the discussion of the newspaper -and its problems which have appeared in the _Atlantic Monthly_ in recent -years. Although these articles were intended only for the readers of -that magazine at the time of their original publication, they have -permanent value for the general reader, for newspaper workers, and for -students of journalism. - -Practically every phase of journalism is taken up in these articles, -including newspaper publishing, news and editorial policies, the -influence of the press, yellow and sensational journalism, the problems -of the newspaper in small cities, country journalism, the Associated -Press, the law of libel, book-reviewing, dramatic criticism, “comics,” -free-lance writing, and the opportunities in the profession. For readers -who desire to make a further study of any of the important aspects of -the press, a bibliography of such books and magazine articles as are -generally available in public libraries has been appended. - -Most of the authors of the articles in this volume are newspaper and -magazine writers and editors whose long experience in journalism gives -particular value to their analysis of conditions, past and present. -Brief notes on the journalistic work of the writers are given in the -Appendix. - -For permission to reprint the articles the editor is indebted to the -writers and to the editor of the _Atlantic Monthly_. - - W. G. B. - - UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN, - January 12, 1918. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - INTRODUCTION. _Willard Grosvenor Bleyer_ ix - - SOME ASPECTS OF JOURNALISM. _Rollo Ogden_ 1 - - PRESS TENDENCIES AND DANGERS. _Oswald Garrison Villard_ 20 - - THE WANING POWER OF THE PRESS. _Francis E. Leupp_ 30 - - NEWSPAPER MORALS. _H. L. Mencken_ 52 - - NEWSPAPER MORALS: A REPLY. _Ralph Pulitzer_ 68 - - THE SUPPRESSION OF IMPORTANT NEWS. _Edward Alsworth Ross_ 79 - - THE PERSONAL EQUATION IN JOURNALISM. _Henry Watterson_ 97 - - THE PROBLEM OF THE ASSOCIATED PRESS. “_An Observer_” 112 - - THE ASSOCIATED PRESS: A REPLY. _Melville E. Stone_ 124 - - CONFESSIONS OF A PROVINCIAL EDITOR. “_Paracelsus_” 133 - - THE COUNTRY EDITOR OF TO-DAY. _Charles Moreau Harger_ 151 - - SENSATIONAL JOURNALISM AND THE LAW. _George W. Alger_ 167 - - THE CRITIC AND THE LAW. _Richard Washburn Child_ 181 - - HONEST LITERARY CRITICISM. _Charles Miner Thompson_ 200 - - DRAMATIC CRITICISM IN THE AMERICAN - PRESS. _James S. Metcalfe_ 224 - - THE HUMOR OF THE COLORED SUPPLEMENT. _Ralph Bergengren_ 233 - - THE AMERICAN GRUB STREET. _James H. Collins_ 243 - - JOURNALISM AS A CAREER. _Charles Moreau Harger_ 264 - - - BIBLIOGRAPHY 279 - - NOTES ON THE WRITERS 290 - - - - - INTRODUCTION - - BY WILLARD GROSVENOR BLEYER - - - I - -“The food of opinion,” as President Wilson has well said, “is the news -of the day.” The daily newspaper, for the majority of Americans, is the -sole purveyor of this food for thought. Citizens of a democracy must -read and assimilate the day’s news in order to form opinions on current -events and issues. Again, for the average citizen the newspaper is -almost the only medium for the interpretation and discussion of -questions of the day. The composite of individual opinions, which we -call public opinion, must express itself in action to be effective. The -newspaper, with its daily reiteration, is the most powerful force in -urging citizens to act in accordance with their convictions. By -reflecting the best sentiment of the community in which it is published, -the newspaper makes articulate intelligent public opinion that might -otherwise remain unexpressed. Since the success of democracy depends not -only upon intelligent public opinion but upon political action in -accordance with such opinion, it is not too much to say that the future -of democratic government in this country depends upon the character of -its newspapers. - -Yet most newspaper readers not unnaturally regard the daily paper as an -ephemeral thing to be read hurriedly and cast aside. Few appreciate the -extent to which their opinions are affected by the newspaper they read. -Nevertheless, to every newspaper reader—which means almost every person -in this country—the conditions under which newspapers are produced and -the influences that affect the character of news and editorials, should -be matters of vital concern. - -To newspaper workers and students of journalism the analysis of the -fundamental questions of their profession is of especial importance. -Discussion of current practices must precede all effort to arrive at -definite standards for the profession of journalism. Only when the -newspaper man realizes the probable effect of his work on the ideas and -ideals of thousands of readers, and hence on the character of our -democracy, does he appreciate the full significance of his news story, -headline, or editorial. - -The modern newspaper has developed so recently from simple beginnings -into a great, complex institution that no systematic and extensive study -has been made of its problems. Journalism has won recognition as a -profession only within the last seventy-five years, and professional -schools for the training of newspaper writers and editors have been in -existence less than fifteen years. In view of these conditions, it is -not surprising that definite principles and a generally accepted code of -ethics for the practice of the profession have not been formulated. - -Ideal conditions of newspaper editing and publishing are not likely to -be brought about by legislation. So jealous are the American people of -the liberty of their press that they hesitate, even when their very -existence as a nation is threatened, to impose legal restrictions on the -printing of news and opinion. If regulation does come, it should be the -result, as it has been in the professions of law and medicine, of the -creation of an enlightened public opinion in support of professional -standards adopted by journalists themselves. - -The present is an auspicious time to discuss such standards. The world -war has put to the test, not only men and machinery, but every -institution of society. Of each organized activity we ask, Is it serving -most effectively the common good? Not simply service to the state, but -service to society, is being demanded more and more of every individual -and every institution. “These are the times which try men’s souls,” and -that try no less the mediums through which men’s souls find expression. -The newspaper, as the purveyor of “food of opinion” and as the medium -for expressing opinion, must measure up to the test of the times. - - - II - -The first step in a systematic analysis of the principles of journalism -must be a consideration of the function of the newspaper in a democracy. -In the varied and voluminous contents of a typical newspaper are to be -found news of all kinds, editorial comment, illustrations of current -events, recipes, comic strips, fashions, cartoons, advice on affairs of -the heart, short stories, answers to questions on etiquette, dramatic -criticism, chapters of a serial, book reviews, verse, a “colyum,” and -advertisements. What in this mélange is the one element which -distinguishes the newspaper from all other publications? It is the daily -news. Weekly and monthly periodicals do everything that the newspaper -does, except print the news from day to day. - -Whatever other aims a newspaper may have, its primary purpose must be to -give adequate reports of the day’s news. Although various inducements -other than news may be employed to attract some persons to newspapers -who would not otherwise read them regularly, nevertheless these features -must not be so prominent or attractive that readers with limited time at -their disposal will neglect the day’s news for entertainment. - -To assist the public to grasp the significance of the news by means of -editorial interpretation and discussion, to render articulate the best -public sentiment, and to persuade citizens to act in accordance with -their opinions, constitute an important secondary function of the -newspaper. Even though the editorial may seem to exert a less direct -influence upon the opinions and political action of the average citizen -than it did in the period of great editorial leadership, nevertheless -the interpretation and discussion of timely topics in the editorial -columns of the daily press are a force in democratic government that -cannot be disregarded. - -Newspapers by their editorials can perform two peculiarly important -services to the public. First, they can show the relation of state, -national, and international questions to the home and business interests -of their readers. Only as the great issues of the day are brought home -to the average reader is he likely to become keenly interested in their -solution. Second, newspapers in their editorials can point out the -connection between local questions and state-wide, nation-wide, or -world-wide movements. Only as questions at issue in a community are -shown in their relation to larger tendencies will the average reader see -them in a perspective that will enable him to think and act most -intelligently. - -In addition to fulfilling these two functions, the newspaper may supply -its readers with practical advice and useful information, as well as -with entertaining reading matter and illustrations. There is more -justification for wholesome advice and entertainment in newspapers that -circulate largely among classes whose only reading matter is the daily -paper than there is in papers whose readers obtain these features from -other periodicals. In view of the numberless cheap, popular magazines in -this country, the extent to which daily newspapers should devote space -and money to advice and entertainment deserves careful consideration. -That without such consideration these features may encroach -unjustifiably on news and editorials seems evident. - - - III - -Since the primary function of the newspaper is to give the day’s news, -the question arises, What is news? If from the point of view of -successful democracy the value of news is determined by the extent to -which it furnishes food for thought on current topics, we are at once -given an important criterion for defining news and measuring -news-values. Thus, news is anything timely which is significant to -newspaper readers in their relation to the community, the state, and the -nation. - -This conception of news is not essentially at variance with the commonly -accepted definition of it as anything timely that interests a number of -readers, the best news being that which has greatest interest for the -greatest number. The most vital matters for both men and women are their -home and their business interests, their success and their happiness. -Anything in the day’s news that touches directly or indirectly these -things that are nearest and dearest to them, they will read with -eagerness. As they may not always be able to see at once the relation of -current events and issues to their home, business, and community -interests, it is the duty of the newspaper to present news in such a way -that its significance to the average reader will be clear. Every -newspaper man knows the value of “playing up” the “local ends” of events -that take place outside of the community in which his paper is -published, but this method of bringing home to readers the significance -to them of important news has not been as fully worked out as it will -be. On this basis the best news is that which can be shown to be most -closely related to the interests of the largest number of readers. - -“But newspapers must publish entertaining news stories as well as -significant ones,” insists the advocate of things as they are. This may -be conceded, but only with three important limitations. First, stories -for mere entertainment that deal with events of little or no news-value -must not be allowed to crowd out significant news. Second, such -entertaining news-matter must not be given so much space and prominence, -or be made so attractive, that the average reader with but limited time -in which to read his paper will neglect news of value. Third, events of -importance must not be so treated as to furnish entertainment primarily, -to the subordination of their true significance. To substitute the _hors -d’œuvres_, relishes, and dessert of the day’s happenings for nourishing -“food of opinion” is to serve an unbalanced, unwholesome mental diet. -The relish should heighten, not destroy, a taste for good food. - - - IV - -In order to furnish the average citizen with material from which to form -opinions on all current issues, so that he may vote intelligently on men -and measures, newspapers must supply significant news in as complete and -as accurate a form as possible. The only important limitations to -completeness are those imposed by the commonly accepted ideas of decency -embodied in the phrase, “All the news that’s fit to print,” and by the -rights of privacy. Carefully edited newspapers discriminate between what -the public is entitled to know and what an individual has a right to -keep private. - -Inaccuracy, due to the necessity for speed in getting news into print, -most newspapers agree must be reduced to a minimum. The establishment of -bureaus of accuracy, and constant emphasis on such mottoes as “Accuracy -First,” “Accuracy Always,” and “If you see it in the _Sun_, it’s so,” -are steps in that direction. - -Deliberate falsification of news for any purpose, good or bad, must be -regarded as an indefensible violation of the fundamental purpose of the -press. Any cause, no matter how worthy it may be, which cannot depend on -facts and truth for its support does not deserve to have facts and truth -distorted in its behalf. - -The “faking” of news can never be harmless. Even though the fictitious -touches in an apparently innocent “human-interest” or “feature” story -may be recognized by most readers, yet the effect is harmful. “It’s only -a newspaper story,” expresses the all-too-common attitude of a public -whose confidence in the reliability of newspapers has been undermined by -news stories wholly or partially “faked.” - -The “coloring,” adulteration, and suppression of news as “food of -opinion” is as dangerous to the body politic as similar manipulation of -food-stuffs was to the physical bodies of our people before such -practices were forbidden by law. How completely the opinions and moral -judgments of a whole nation may be perverted by deliberate “coloring” -and suppression of news, in this case by its own government, was -demonstrated in Germany immediately before and during the world war. - -The jury of newspaper readers must have “the truth, the whole truth, and -nothing but the truth,” if it is to give an intelligent verdict. - - - V - -The so-called “yellow journals” are glaring examples of newspapers built -up on news and editorial policies shaped to attract undiscriminating -readers by sensational methods. By constantly emphasizing sensational -news and by “sensationalizing” and “melodramatizing” news that is not -sufficiently startling, as well as by editorials stirring up class -feeling among the masses against the monied and ruling classes, “yellow -journals” have been able to outstrip all other papers in circulation. - -Unquestionably the most serious aspect of the influence of sensational -and yellow journalism is the distorted view of life thus given. Because -these papers are widely read by the partially assimilated groups of -foreign immigrants in large centres of population, like New York and -Chicago, they exert a particularly dangerous influence by giving these -future citizens a wrong conception of American society and government. -That the false ideas of our life and institutions given to foreign -elements of our population while they are in the process of becoming -Americanized are a serious menace to this country, requires no proof. No -matter who the readers may be, however, news that is “colored” to appear -“yellow,” and misleading editorials, will always be dangerous to the -public welfare. - - - VI - -The treatment of sensational events, particularly those involving crime -and scandal, undoubtedly constitutes one of the difficult problems of -all newspapers. The demoralizing effect of accounts of criminal and -vicious acts, when read by immature and morally unstable individuals, is -generally admitted. On the other hand, fear of publicity and consequent -disgrace to the wrong-doer and his family, is a powerful deterrent. -Moreover, if newspapers suppressed news of crime and vice, citizens -might remain ignorant of the extent to which they existed in the -community, and consequently, with the aid of a corrupt local government, -wrong-doing might flourish until it was a menace to every member of the -community. - -To give sufficient publicity to news of crime and scandal in order to -provide the necessary deterrent effect, to furnish readers with the -information to which they are entitled, and at the same time to present -such news so that it will not give offense or encourage morally weak -readers to emulate the criminal and the vicious, define the middle -course which exponents of constructive journalism must steer. - - - VII - -Criticisms of the newspaper of the present day should not leave us with -the impression that the American press is deteriorating. No one who -compares the newspaper of to-day with its predecessors of fifty, -seventy-five, or a hundred years ago, can fail to appreciate how -immeasurably superior in every respect is the press of the present day. -In our newspapers now there is much less of narrow political -partisanship, much less of editorial vituperation and personal abuse, -much less of objectionable advertising, and relatively less news of -crime and scandal. Viewed from a distance of more than half a century, -great American editors loom large, but a critical study of the papers -they edited shows their limitations. They were pioneers in a new -land,—for modern journalism began but eighty-five years ago,—and as -such, they deserve all honor for blazing the trail; but we must not be -blind to the defects of the papers that they produced, any more than we -may overlook the faults of the press of our own day. - -The period of the struggle against slavery culminating in the Civil War -was one of great editorial leadership. To say that it was the era of -great “views-papers” and that the present is the day of great -“news-papers” is to sum up the essential difference between the two -periods. In terms of democratic government, this means that citizens of -the older day were accustomed to accept as their own, political opinions -furnished them ready-made by their favorite editor, whereas voters -to-day want to form their own opinions on the basis of the news and -editorials furnished them by their favorite paper. This greater -independence of judgment, with its corollary, greater independence in -voting, is a long step forward toward a more complete democracy. - - - VIII - -The recent development of community spirit as a means of realizing more -fully the ideals of democracy by fostering greater solidarity among the -diverse elements of our population, has been reflected in the news -policies of many papers. By “playing up” news that tends to the -upbuilding of the community, and by “playing down,” and even eliminating -entirely, news that tends to exert an unwholesome influence, newspapers -in various parts of the country have developed a type of constructive -journalism. Such consideration for the effect of news on readers as -members of the community, and hence on community life, is one of the -most important forward steps taken by the modern newspaper. - -Although occasion may arise from time to time for newspapers to turn the -searchlight of publicity on social and political corruption, the feeling -is gaining strength that newspaper crusades in the interests of -institutions and movements making for community uplift are even more -important than the continued exposure of evils. Many aggressive, -crusading papers, accordingly, have turned from a policy of exposing -such conditions to the constructive purpose of showing how various -agencies may be used for community development. “Searchlight” journalism -is thus giving way to “sunlight” journalism. A constructive policy that -aims to handle local news and “local ends” of all news in such a manner -that they will exert a wholesome, upbuilding influence on the community, -is one of the most potent forces making for a better democracy. - - - IX - -With the entry of the United States into world-affairs in coöperation -with other nations, a new duty was placed upon the American press. For a -number of years before the world war the amount of foreign news in the -average American newspaper was very limited. With the decline of weekly -letters from foreign countries written by well-known correspondents, and -the reliance by newspapers on the great press associations for foreign -news, readers had had relatively less news of importance from abroad -than formerly. The world war naturally changed this condition -completely. - -Unless the United States decides finally to return to its former policy -of isolation, American citizens must be kept in touch with important -movements in other nations, so that they can form intelligent opinions -in regard to the relation of this country to these nations. Since the -daily newspaper is the principal medium for presenting such news, it is -clear that newspapers must be prepared to present significant foreign -news in such a manner that it will attract readers, by connecting it -with their interests as American citizens. - - - X - -How the future will solve the problems of journalism must be largely a -matter of conjecture. Temporarily the world war has given rise to -peculiar problems, none of which, however, seems likely to have -permanent effects on our newspapers. Censorship of news and of editorial -discussion has precipitated anew the ever-perplexing question of the -exact limits of the liberty of the press in war times. War, too, has -made clearer the pernicious influence resulting from the dissemination -throughout the world of “colored” news by means of semi-official news -agencies subsidized and controlled by some of the European nations. The -extent to which a whole nation may be kept in the dark by government -control of news and discussion, as well as the impossibility of other -nations getting important information to the people of such a country, -has been strikingly exemplified by Germany and Austro-Hungary. The need -of definite provision for international freedom of the press has been -pointed out as an essential factor in any programme for permanent peace. - -The rise in the price of print paper and increased cost of production, -largely the result of war conditions, have led so generally to the -raising of the price of papers from one to two cents that the penny -paper bids fair to disappear entirely. This increase in price has not -appreciably reduced circulation. To economize in the use of paper during -the war, many papers have reduced the number of pages by cutting down -the amount of reading matter. Whether or not these changes will continue -when normal conditions of business are restored cannot be predicted. - -Endowed newspapers, municipal newspapers, and even university -newspapers, have been proposed as possible solutions of the problems of -the press. Of these proposals only one, the municipal newspaper, has had -a trial, and even that has not been tried under conditions that permit -any conclusions as to its feasibility. Although there has been a marked -tendency, hastened by the war, toward government ownership or control of -railroad, telegraph, and telephone lines, which, like newspapers, are -private enterprises that perform a public function, there has been no -corresponding movement looking toward ownership or control of newspapers -by the federal, state, or local government. - -Effective organization of newspaper writers and editors has been urged -as a means of establishing definite standards for the profession. It -seems remarkable that in this age of organization newspaper workers are -the only members of a great profession who have no national association. -Newspaper publishers, circulation managers, advertising men, and the -editor-publishers of weekly and small daily newspapers have such -organizations. For free-lance writers there is the Authors’ League of -America. In several Middle Western states organizations of city editors -have been effected; but a movement to unite them into a national -association has not as yet made much progress. - -Two national newspaper conferences have been held under academic -auspices to discuss the problems of journalism, the first at the -University of Wisconsin in 1912, and the second at the University of -Kansas, two years later. Although a number of leaders in the profession -took part in the programmes and interesting discussion resulted, the -attendance of newspaper workers was not sufficiently large to be -representative of the country as a whole, and no permanent organization -was effected. - -That a national organization of newspaper men and women is neither -impossible nor ineffectual has been demonstrated in Great Britain, where -three of such associations have been active for a number of years. The -Institute of Journalists of Great Britain, an association of newspaper -editors and proprietors, holds an annual conference for the discussion -of current questions in journalism and has had as its head such -distinguished journalists as Robert Donald of the London _Daily -Chronicle_, A. G. Gardiner of the London _Daily News_, and J. L. Garvin, -formerly editor of the _Pall Mall Gazette_ and now editor of the -_Observer_. The other associations are the National Union of -Journalists, composed exclusively of newspaper workers, which maintains -“branches” and “district councils” in addition to the national -association; and the Society of Women Journalists. - - - XI - -There is no one simple solution for the complex problems of journalism. -In so far as the newspaper is a private business enterprise, it will -continue to adjust itself to the steadily advancing standards of the -business world. “Service,” the new watchword in business, is already -being taken up by the business departments of newspapers in relation to -both advertisers and readers. The rejection of objectionable advertising -and the guaranteeing of all advertising published have been among the -first steps taken toward serving both readers and honest business men by -protecting them against unscrupulous advertisers. When it is generally -accepted in the business world that service, as well as honesty, is the -best policy, no newspaper can long afford to pursue any other. - -Nor need private ownership be a menace to the completeness and accuracy -with which newspapers present news and opinion. Just as business men are -coming to realize that truthful advertising is most effective and that a -satisfied customer is the best advertiser, so newspapers are coming more -and more to appreciate the fact that accuracy and fair play in news and -editorials are also “good business.” Neither the public nor a majority -of editors and publishers can afford to permit unscrupulous private -ownership to impair seriously the usefulness and integrity of any -newspaper. - -In so far as the newspaper performs a public function, its usefulness -will be measured by the character of the service that it renders. Its -standing will be determined by the extent to which it serves faithfully -the community, the state, and the nation. Whatever principles are -formulated and whatever code is adopted for the profession of journalism -will be based on the fundamental idea of service to the people—to the -masses as well as to the classes. - -Newspaper workers, from the “cub” reporter to the editor-in-chief, will -be recognized as public servants, not as mere employees of a private -business. The high standards maintained by them in newspaper offices -will reinforce the ideal of public service held up before college men -and women preparing themselves for journalism. The public will -understand more fully than it ever has done the necessity of supporting -heartily the standards established by newspapers themselves. Requests to -“keep it out of the paper” and threats of “stop my paper” will be less -frequent when advertisers, business men, and readers see that such -attempts at coercion are an indefensible interference with an -institution whose first duty is to the public. - -With an ever-increasing appreciation of the value of its service in -business relations and with an ever-broadening conception of its duties -and responsibilities, the newspaper of to-morrow may be depended on to -do its part in the greatest of all national and international tasks, -that of “making the world safe for democracy.” - - - - - THE PROFESSION OF JOURNALISM - - - - - SOME ASPECTS OF JOURNALISM - - BY ROLLO OGDEN - - - I - -It is, in a way, a form of flattery, in the eyes of modern journalism, -that it should be put on its defense—added to the fascinating list of -“problems.” This is a tribute to its importance. The compliment may -often seem oblique. An editor will, at times, feel himself placed in -much the same category as a famous criminal—a warning, a horrible -example, a target for reproof, but still an interesting object. That -last is the redeeming feature. If the newspaper of to-day can only be -sure that it excites interest in the multitude, it is content. For to -force itself upon the general notice is the main purpose of its spirit -of shrill insistence, which so many have noted and so many have -disliked. - -But the clamorous and assertive tone of the daily press may charitably -be thought of as a natural reaction from its low estate of a few -generations back. Upstart families or races usually have bad manners, -and the newspaper, as we know it, is very much of an upstart. For long, -its lot was contempt and contumely. In the first half of the eighteenth -century, writing in general was reduced to extremities. Dr. Johnson says -of Richard Savage that, “having no profession, he became by necessity an -author.” But there was a lower deep, and that was journalism. Warburton -wrote of one who is chiefly known by being pilloried in the _Dunciad_ -that he “ended in the common sink of all such writers, a political -newspaper.” Even later it was recorded of the Rev. Dr. Dodd, author of -the _Beauties of Shakespeare_, that he “descended so low as to become -editor of a newspaper.” After that, but one step remained—to the -gallows; and this was duly taken by Dr. Dodd in 1777, when he was hanged -for forgery. A calling digged from such a pit may, without our special -wonder, display something of the push and insolence natural in a class -whose privileges were long so slender or so questioned that they must be -loudly proclaimed for fear that they may be forgotten. - -This flaunting and over-emphasis also go well with the charge that the -press of to-day is commercialized. That accusation no one undertaking to -comment on newspapers can pass unnoticed. Yet why should journalism be -exempt? It is as freely asserted that colleges are commercialized; the -theatre is accused of knowing no standard but that of the box-office; -politics has the money-taint upon it; and even the church is arraigned -for ignoring the teachings of St. James, and being too much a respecter -of the persons of the rich. If it is true that the commercial spirit -rules the press, it is at least in good company. In actual fact, -occasional instances of gross and unscrupulous financial control of -newspapers for selfish or base ends must be admitted to exist. There are -undoubtedly some editors who bend their conscience to their dealing. -Newspaper proprietors exist who sell themselves for gain. But this is -not what is ordinarily meant by the charge of commercialization. -Reference is, rather, to the newspaper as a money-making institution. -“When shall we have a journal,” asked a clergyman not long ago, “that -will be published without advertisements?” - -The answer is, never—at least, I hope so, for the good of American -journalism. We have no official press. We have no subsidized press. We -have not even an endowed press. What that would be in this country I can -scarcely imagine, but I am sure it would have little or no influence. A -newspaper carries weight only as it can point to evidence of public -sympathy and support. But that means a business side; it means -patronage; it means an eye to money. A newspaper, like an army, goes -upon its belly—though it does not follow that it must eat dirt. The -dispute about being commercialized is always a question of more or less. -When Horace Greeley founded the _Tribune_ in 1841, he had but a thousand -dollars of his own in cash. Yet his struggle to make the paper a going -concern was just as intense as if he were starting it to-day with a -capital (and it would be needed) of a million. Greeley, to his honor be -it said, refused from the beginning to take certain advertisements. But -so do newspaper proprietors to-day whose expenses per week are more than -Greeley’s were for the first year. - -The immensely large capital now required for the conduct of a daily -newspaper in a great city has had important consequences. It has made -the newspaper more of an institution, less of a personal organ. Men no -longer designate journals by the owner’s or editor’s name. It used to be -Bryant’s paper, or Greeley’s paper, or Raymond’s, or Bennett’s. Now it -is simply _Times_, _Herald_, _Tribune_, and so on. No single personality -can stamp itself upon the whole organism. It is too vast. It is a great -piece of property, to be administered with skill; it is a carefully -planned organization which best produces the effect when the -personalities of those who work for it are swallowed up. The individual -withers, but the newspaper is more and more. Journalism becomes -impersonal. There are no more “great editors,” but there is a finer -_esprit de corps_, better “team play,” an institution more and more -firmly established and able to justify itself. - -Large capital in newspapers, and their heightened earning power, tend to -steady them. Freaks and rash experiments are also shut out by lack of -means. Greeley reckoned up a hundred or more newspapers that had died in -New York before 1850. Since that time it would be hard to name ten. I -can remember but two metropolitan dailies within twenty-five years that -have absolutely suspended publication. Only contrast the state of things -in Parisian journalism. There must be at least thirty daily newspapers -in the French capital. Few of them have the air of living off their own -business. Yet the necessary capital and the cost of production are so -much smaller than ours that their various backers can afford to keep -them afloat. But this fact does not make their sincerity or purity the -more evident. On the contrary, the rumor of sinister control is more -frequently circulated in connection with the French press than with our -own. Our higher capitalization helps us. Just because a great sum is -invested, it cannot be imperiled by allowing unscrupulous men to make -use of the newspaper property; for that way ruin lies, in the end. The -corrupt employment has to be concealed. If it had been known surely, for -example, that Mr. Morgan, or Mr. Ryan, or Mr. Harriman owned a New York -newspaper, and was utilizing it as a means of furthering his schemes, -support would speedily have failed it, and it would soon have dried up -from the roots. - -This give and take between the press and the public is vital to a just -conception of American journalism. The editor does not nonchalantly -project his thoughts into the void. He listens for the echo of his -words. His relation to his supporters is not unlike Gladstone’s -definition of the intimate connection between the orator and his -audience. As the speaker gets from his hearers in mist what he gives -back in shower, so the newspaper receives from the public as well as -gives to it. Too often it gets as dust what it gives back as mud; but -that does not alter the relation. Action and reaction are all the while -going on between the press and its patrons. Hence it follows that the -responsibility for the more crying evils of journalism must be divided. - -I would urge no exculpation for the editor who exploits crime, scatters -filth, and infects the community with moral poison. The original -responsibility is his, and it is a fearful one. But it is not solely -his. The basest and most demoralizing journal that lives, lives by -public approval or tolerance. Its readers and advertisers have its life -in their hands. At a word from them, it would either reform or die. They -have the power of “recall” over it, as it is by some proposed to grant -the people a power of recall over bad representatives in legislature or -Congress. The very dependence of the press upon support gives its -patrons the power of life and death over it. - -Advertisers are known to go to a newspaper office to seek favors, -sometimes improper, often innocent. Why should they, and mere readers, -too, not exercise their implied right to protest against vulgarity, the -exaggeration of the trivial, hysteria, indecency, immorality, in the -newspaper which they are asked to buy or to patronize? To a journalist -of the offensive class they could say: “You excuse yourself by alleging -that you simply give what the public demands; but we say that your very -assertion is an insult to us and an outrage upon the public. You say -that nobody protests against your course; well, we are here to protest. -You point to your sales; we tell you that, unless you mend your columns, -we will buy no more.” There lies here, I am persuaded, a vast unused -power for the toning up of our journalism. At any rate, the reform of a -free press in a free people can be brought about only by some such -reaction of the medium upon the instrument. Legislation direct would be -powerless. Sir Samuel Romilly perceived this when he argued in -Parliament against proposals to restrict by law the “licentious press.” -He said that, if the press were more licentious than formerly, it was -because it had not yet got over the evils of earlier arbitrary control; -and the only sure way to reform it was to make it still more free. -Romilly would doubtless have agreed that a free people will, in the long -run, have as good newspapers as it wants and deserves to have. - -As it is, public sentiment has a way, on occasion, of speaking through -the press with astonishing directness and power. All the noise and -extravagance, the ignorance and the distortion, cannot obscure this. -There is a rough but great value in the mere publicity which the -newspaper affords. The free handling of rulers has much for the credit -side. When Senior was talking with Thiers in 1856, the conversation fell -upon the severe press laws under Napoleon III. The Englishman said that -perhaps these were due to the license of newspapers in the time of the -foregoing republic, when their attacks on public men were often the -extreme of scurrility. “C’était horrible,” said Thiers; “mais, pour moi, -j’aime mieux être gouverné par des honnêtes gens qu’on traite comme des -voleurs, que par des voleurs qu’on traite en honnêtes gens.”[1] And when -you have some powerful robbers to invoke the popular verdict upon, there -is nothing like modern journalism for doing the job thoroughly. Those -great names in our business and political firmament which lately have -fallen like Lucifer, dreaded exposure in the press most of all. Courts -and juries they could have faced with equanimity; or, rather, their -lawyers would have done it for them in the most beautiful illustration -of the law’s delay. But the very clamor of newspaper publicity was like -an embodied public conscience pronouncing condemnation—every headline an -officer. I know of no other power on earth that could have stripped away -from these rogues every shelter which their money could buy, and have -been to them such an advance section of the Day of Judgment. In the -immense publicity that dogged them they saw that worst of all -punishments described by Shelley:— - - —when thou must _appear_ to be - That which thou art internally; - And after many a false and fruitless crime, - Scorn track thy lagging fall. - -Footnote 1: - - “It is terrible, but for my part, I would rather be governed by honest - men who are treated as though they were thieves, than by thieves who - are treated as though they were honest men.”—ED. - - - II - -It is, no doubt, a belief in this honestly and wholesomely scourging -power of newspapers which has made the champions of modern democracy -champions also of the freedom of the press. It has not been seriously -hampered or shackled in this country; but the history of its -emancipation from burdensome taxation in England shows how the -progressive and reactionary motives or temperaments come to view. When -Gladstone was laboring, fifty years ago, to remove the last special tax -upon newspapers, Lord Salisbury—he was then Lord Robert Cecil—opposed -him with some of his finest sneers. Could it be maintained that a person -of any education could learn anything from a penny paper? It might be -said that the people would learn from the press what had been uttered by -their representatives in Parliament, but how much would that add to -their education? They might even discover the opinions of the editor. -All this was very interesting, but it did not carry real instruction to -the mind. To talk about a tax on newspapers being a tax on knowledge was -a prostitution of real education. And so on. But contrast this with John -Bright’s opinion. In a letter written in 1885, but not published till -this year, he said: “Few men in England owe so much to the press as I -do. Its progress has been very great. I was one of those who worked -earnestly to overthrow the system of taxation which from the time of -Queen Anne had fettered, I might almost say, strangled it out of -existence.... I hope the editors and conductors of our journals may -regard themselves as under a great responsibility, as men engaged in the -great work of instructing and guiding our people.... On the faithful -performance of their duties, on their truthfulness and their adherence -to the moral law, the future of our country depends.” - -To pass from these ideals to the tendencies and perplexities of -newspapers as they are is not possible without the sensation of a jar. -For specimens of the faults found in even the reputable press by -fair-minded men we may turn to a recent address before a university -audience by Professor Butcher. Admitting that journalism had never -before been “so many-sided, so well informed, so intellectually alert,” -he yet noted several literary and moral defects. Of these he dwelt first -upon “hasty production.” “Formerly, the question was, who is to have the -last word; now it is a wild race between journalists as to who will get -the _first_ word.” The professor found the marks of hurry written all -over modern newspapers. Breathless haste could not but affect the -editorial style. “It is smartly pictorial, restless, impatient, -emphatic.” This charge no editor of a daily paper can find it in his -heart confidently to attempt to repel. His work has to be done under -narrow and cramping conditions of time. The hour of going to press is -ever before him as an inexorable fate. And that judgments formed and -opinions expressed under such stress are often of a sort that one would -fain withdraw, no sane writer for the press thinks of denying. This -ancient handicap of the pressman was described by Cowper in 1780. “I -began to think better of his [Burke’s] cause,” he wrote to the Rev. Mr. -Unwin, “and burnt my verses. Such is the lot of the man who writes upon -the subject of the day; the aspect of affairs changes in an hour or two, -and his opinion with it; what was just and well-deserved satire in the -morning, in the evening becomes a libel; the author commences his own -judge, and, while he condemns with unrelenting severity what he so -lately approved, is sorry to find that he has laid his leaf gold upon -touchwood, which crumbled away under his finger.” - -While all this is sorrowfully true,—to none so sorrowful as those who -have it frequently borne in upon them by personal experience,—it is, -after all, _du métier_. It is a condition under which the work must be -done, or not at all. A public which occasionally disapproves of a -newspaper too quick on the trigger would not put up at all with one -which held its fire too long. And there is, when all is said, a good -deal of the philosophy of life in the compulsion to “go to press.” Only -in that spirit can the rough work of the world get done. The artist may -file and polish endlessly; the genius may brood; but the newspaper man -must cut short his search for the full thought or the perfect phrase, -and get into type with the best at the moment attainable. At any rate, -this makes for energy decision, and a ready practicality. Life is made -up of such compromises, such forced adjustments, such constant striving -for the ideal with the necessitated acceptance of the closest approach -to it possible, as are of the very atmosphere in the office of a daily -newspaper. But the result is got. The pressure may be bad for literary -technique but at all events it forces out the work. If Lord Acton had -known something of the driving motives of a journalist, he would not -have spent fifty years collecting material for a great history of -liberty, and then died before being quite persuaded in his own mind that -he was ready to write it. The counsel of wisdom which Mr. Brooke gives -in _Middlemarch_ need never be addressed to a newspaper writer; that he -must “pull up” in time, every day teaches him. - -Professor Butcher also drew an ingenious parallel between the Sophists -of ancient Greece and present-day journalists. It was not very -flattering to the latter. One of the points of comparison was that -“their pretensions were high and their basis of knowledge generally -slight.” Now, “ignorance,” added the uncomplimentary professor, “has its -own appropriate manner, and most journalists, being very clever fellows, -are, when they are ignorant, conscious of their ignorance. A fine, -elusive manner is therefore adopted; it is enveloped in a haze.” To this -charge, also, a bold and full plea of not guilty cannot be entered by a -newspaper man. If his own conscience would allow it, he knows that too -many of his own calling would rise up to confute him. The jokes, flings, -stories, confessions are too numerous about the easy and empty -assumptions of omniscience by the press. Mr. Barrie has, in his -reminiscential _When a Man’s Single_, told too many tales out of the -sanctum. Some of them bear on the point in hand. For example:— - -“‘I am not sure that I know what the journalistic instinct precisely -is,’ Rob said, ‘and still less whether I possess it.’ - -“‘Ah, just let me put you through your paces,’ replied Simms. ‘Suppose -yourself up for an exam. in journalism, and that I am your examiner. -Question One: The house was soon on fire; much sympathy is expressed -with the sufferers. Can you translate that into newspaper English?’ - -“‘Let me see,’ answered Rob, entering into the spirit of the -examination. ‘How would this do: In a moment the edifice was enveloped -in shooting tongues of flame; the appalling catastrophe has plunged the -whole street into the gloom of night’? - -“‘Good. Question Two: A man hangs himself; what is the technical heading -for this?’ - -“‘Either “Shocking Occurrence” or “Rash Act.’” - -“‘Question Three: _Pabulum, Cela va sans dire, Par excellence, Ne plus -ultra._ What are these? Are there any more of them?’ - -“‘They are scholarships,’ replied Rob; ‘and there are two more, namely, -_Tour de force_ and _Terra firma_.’ - -“‘Question Four: A. (a soldier) dies at 6 P.M. with his back to the foe; -B. (a philanthropist) dies at 1 A.M.; which of these, speaking -technically, would you call a creditable death?’ - -“‘The soldier’s, because time was given to set it.’ - -“‘Quite right. Question Five: Have you ever known a newspaper which did -not have the largest circulation and was not the most influential -advertising medium?’ - -“‘Never.’ - -“‘Well, Mr. Angus,’ said Simms, tiring of the examination, ‘you have -passed with honors.’” - -Many cynical admissions by the initiate could be quoted. The question -was recently put to a young man who had a place on the staff of a -morning newspaper: “Are you not often brought to a standstill for lack -of knowledge?” “No,” he replied, “as a rule I go gayly ahead, and -without a pause. My only difficulty is when I happen to know something -of the subject.” But no one takes these sarcasms too seriously. They are -a part of the Bohemian tradition of journalism. But Bohemianism has gone -out of the newspaper world, as the profession has become more -specialized, more of a serious business. Even in his time, Jules Janin, -writing to Madame de Girardin apropos of her _École des Journalistes_, -happily exposed the “assumption that good leading articles ever were or -ever could be produced over punch and broiled bones, amidst intoxication -and revelry.” - -Editors may still be ignorant, but at any rate they are not unblushingly -devil-may-care about it. They do not take their work as a pure lark. -They try to get their facts right. And the appreciation of accurate -knowledge, if not always the market for it, is certainly higher now in -newspaper offices than it used to be. The multiplied apparatus of -information has done at least that for the profession. Much of its -knowledge may be “index-learning,” but at any rate it gets the eel by -the tail. And the editor has a fairish retort for the general writer in -the fact that the latter might more often be caught tripping if he had -to produce his wisdom on demand and get it irrevocably down in black and -white and in a thousand hands without time for consideration or -amendment. This truth was frankly put by Motley in a letter to Holmes in -1862: “I take great pleasure in reading your prophecies, and intend to -be just as free in hazarding my own.... If you make mistakes, you shall -never hear of them again, and I promise to forget them. Let me ask the -same indulgence from you in return. This is what makes letter-writing a -comfort, and journalism dangerous.” - -It is a distinction which an editor may well lay to his soul when -accused of being a mere Gigadibs— - - You, for example, clever to a fault, - The rough and ready man who write apace, - Read somewhat seldomer, think, perhaps, even less. - -Even in journalism, the Spanish proverb holds that knowing something -does not take up any room—_el saber no ocupa lugar_. Special information -is, as I often have occasion to say to applicants for work, the one -thing that gives a stranger a chance in a newspaper office. The most -out-of-the-way knowledge has a trick of falling pat to the day’s need. A -successful London journalist got his first foothold by knowing all about -Scottish Disruption, when that struggle between the Established and Free -churches burst upon the horizon. The editor simply had to have the -services of a man who could tell an interested English public all about -the question which was setting the heather afire. Similarly, not long -since, a young American turned up in New York with apparently the most -hopeless outfit for journalistic work. He had spent eight years in Italy -studying mediæval church history—and that was his basis for thinking he -could write for a daily paper of the palpitating present! But it -happened just then that the aged Leo XIII drew to his end, and here was -a man who knew all the _Papabili_—cardinals and archbishops; who -understood thoroughly the ceremony and procedure of electing a pope; who -was drenched in all the actualities of the situation, and who could, -therefore, write about it with an intelligence and sympathy which made -his work compel acceptance, and gave him entrance into journalism by the -unlikely Porta Romana. It is but an instance of the way in which a -profession growing more serious is bound to take knowledge more -seriously. - - - III - -It is, however, what Sir Wemyss Reid called the “Wegotism” of the press -that some fastidious souls find more offensive than its occasional -betrayals of crass ignorance. Lecky remarked upon it, in his chapters on -the rise of newspapers in England. “Few things to a reflecting mind are -more curious than the extraordinary weight which is attached to the -anonymous expression of political opinion. Partly by the illusion of the -imagination, partly by the weight of emphatic assertion, a plural -pronoun, conspicuous type, and continual repetition, unknown men are -able, without exciting any surprise or sense of incongruity, to assume -the language of the accredited representatives of the nation, and to -rebuke, patronize, or insult its leading men with a tone of authority -which would not be tolerated from the foremost statesmen of their time.” - -A remedy frequently suggested is signed editorials. Let the Great -Unknown come out from behind his veil of anonymity, and drop his “plural -of majesty.” Then we should know him for the insignificant and -negligible individual he is. It is true that some hesitating attempts of -that kind have been made in this country, mostly in the baser -journalism, but they have not succeeded. There is no reason to think -that this practice will ever take root among us. It arose in France -under conditions of rigorous press censorship, and really goes in spirit -with the wish of government or society to limit that perfect freedom of -discussion which anonymous journalism alone can enjoy. Legal -responsibility is, of course, fixed in the editor and proprietors. Nor -is the literary disguise, as a rule, of such great consequence, or so -difficult to penetrate. Most editors would feel like making the same -answer to an aggrieved person that Swift gave to one of his victims. In -one of his short poems he threw some of his choicest vitriol upon one -Bettesworth, a lawyer of considerable eminence, who in a rage went to -Swift and demanded whether he was the author of that poem. The Dean’s -reply was: “Mr. Bettesworth, I was in my youth acquainted with great -lawyers who, knowing my disposition to satire, advised me that, if any -scoundrel or blockhead whom I had lampooned should ask, ‘Are you the -author of this paper?’ I should tell him that I was not the author; and -therefore I tell you, Mr. Bettesworth, that I am not the author of these -lines.” - -But the real defense of impersonal journalism lies in the conception of -a newspaper, not as an individual organ, but as a public institution. -Walter Bagehot, in his _Physics and Politics_, uses the newspaper as a -good illustration of an organism subduing everything to type. Individual -style becomes blended in the common style. The excellent work of -assistant editors is ascribed to their chief, just as his blunders are -shouldered off upon them. It becomes impossible to dissect out the -separate personalities which contribute to the making up of the whole. -The paper represents, not one man’s thought, but a body of opinion. -Behind what is said each day stands a long tradition. Writers, -reviewers, correspondents, clientele, add their mite, but it is little -more than Burns’s snowflake falling into the river. The great stream -flows on. I would not minimize personality in journalism. It has counted -enormously; it still counts. But the institutional, representative idea -is now most telling. The play of individuality is much restricted; has -to do more with minor things than great policies. John Stuart Mill, in a -letter of 1863 to Motley, very well hit off what may be called the -chance rôle of the individual in modern journalism: “The line it [the -London _Times_] takes on any particular question is much more a matter -of accident than is supposed. It is sometimes better than the public, -and sometimes worse. It was better on the Competitive Examinations and -on the Revised Educational Code, in each case owing to the accidental -position of a particular man who happened to write on it—both which men -I could name to you.” - -Wendell Phillips told of once taking a letter to the editor of a Boston -paper, whom he knew, with a request that it be published. The editor -read it over, and said, “Mr. Phillips, that is a very good and -interesting letter, and I shall be glad to publish it; but I wish you -would consent to strike out the last paragraph.” - -“Why,” said Phillips, “that paragraph is the precise thing for which I -wrote the whole letter. Without that it would be pointless.” - -“Oh, I see that,” replied the editor; “and what you say in it is -perfectly true,—the very children in the streets know that it is true. I -fully agree with it all myself. Yet it is one of those things which it -will not do to say publicly. However, if you insist upon it, I will -publish the letter as it stands.” - -It was published the next morning, and along with it a short editorial -reference to it, saying that a letter from Mr. Phillips would be found -in another column, and that it was extraordinary that so keen a mind as -his should have fallen into the palpable absurdity contained in the last -paragraph. - -The story suggests the harmful side of the interaction between press and -public. It sometimes puts a great strain upon the intellectual honesty -of the editor. He is doubtful how much truth his public will bear. His -audience may seem to him, on occasions, minatory, as well as, on others, -encouraging. So hard is it for the journalist to be sure, with Dr. -Arnold, that the times will always bear what an honest man has to say. -At this point, undoubtedly, we come upon the moral perils of the -newspaper man. And when outsiders believe that he writes to order, or -without conviction, they naturally hold a low view of his occupation. - -Journalism, wrote Mrs. Mark Pattison in 1879, “harms those, even the -most gifted, who continue in it after early life. They cannot honestly -write the kind of thing required for their public if they are really -striving to reach the highest level of thought and work possible to -themselves.” If this were always and absolutely true, little could be -said for the Fourth Estate. We should all have to agree with James -Smith, of _Rejected Addresses_ fame:— - - Hard is his lot who edits, thankless job! - A Sunday journal for the factious mob. - With bitter paragraph and caustic jest, - He gives to turbulence the day of rest, - Condemn’d this week rash rancor to instil, - Or thrown aside, the next, for one who will. - Alike undone, or if he praise or rail - (For this affects his safety, that his sale), - He sinks, alas, in luckless limbo set— - If loud for libel, and if dumb for debt. - -The real libel, however, would be the assertion that the work of -American journalism is done to any large extent in that spirit of the -galley slave. With all its faults, it is imbued with the desire of being -of public service. That is often overlaid by other motives—money-making, -timeserving, place-hunting. But at the high demand of a great moral or -political crisis, it will assert itself, and editors will be found as -ready as their fellows to hazard their all for the common weal. To show -what sort of fire may burn at the heart of the true journalist, I append -a letter never before published:— - - “NEW YORK, _April 23, 1867_. - - “There is a man here named Barnard, on the bench of the Supreme - Court. Some years ago he kept a gambling saloon in San Francisco, - and was a notorious blackleg and _vaurien_. He came then to New - York, plunged into the basest depths of city politics, and emerged - Recorder. After two or three years he got by the same means to be a - judge of the Supreme Court. His reputation is now of the very worst. - He is unscrupulous, audacious, barefaced, and corrupt to the last - degree. He not only takes bribes, but he does not even wait for them - to be offered him. He sends for suitors, or rather for their - counsel, and asks for the money as the price of his judgments. A - more unprincipled scoundrel does not breathe. There is no way in - which he does not prostitute his office, and in saying this I am - giving you the unanimous opinion of the bar and the public. His - appearance on the bench I consider literally an awful occurrence. - Yet the press and bar are muzzled,—for that is what it comes to,—and - this injurious scoundrel has actually got possession of the highest - court in the State, and dares the Christian public to expose his - villainy. - - “If I were satisfied that, if the public knew all this, it would lie - down under it, I would hand the _Nation_ over to its creditors and - take myself and my children out of the community. I will not believe - that yet. I am about to say all I dare say—as yet—in the _Nation_ - to-morrow. Barnard is capable of ruining us, if he thought it worth - his while, and could of course imprison me for contempt, if he took - it into his head, and I should have no redress. You have no idea - what a labyrinth of wickedness and chicane surrounds him. Moreover, - I have no desire either for notoriety or martyrdom, and am in - various ways not well fitted to take a stand against rascality on - such a scale as this. But this I do think, that it is the duty of - every honest man to do something. Barnard has now got possession of - the courts, and if he can silence the press also, where is reform to - come from?... I think some movement ought to be set on foot having - for its object the hunting down of corrupt politicians, the exposure - of jobs, the sharpening of the public conscience on the whole - subject of political purity. If this cannot be done, the growing - wealth will kill—not the nation, but the form of government without - which, as you and I believe, the nation would be of little value to - humanity.” - -This was written to Professor Charles Eliot Norton by the late Edwin -Lawrence Godkin. The Barnard referred to was, of course, the infamous -judge from whom, a few years later, the judicial robes were stripped. -Mr. Godkin’s attack upon him was, so far as I know, the first that was -made in print. But the passion of indignation which glowed in that great -journalist, with his willingness to hazard his own fortunes in the -public behalf, only sets forth conspicuously what humbler members of the -press feel as their truest motive and their noblest reward. - - - - - PRESS TENDENCIES AND DANGERS - - BY OSWALD GARRISON VILLARD - -The passing of the _Boston Journal_, in the eighty-fourth year of its -age, by merger with the _Boston Herald_ has rightly been characterized -as a tragedy of journalism. Yet it is no more significant than the -similar merger of the _Cleveland Plain Dealer_ and the _Cleveland -Leader_, or the _New York Press_ and the _New York Sun_. All are in -obedience to the drift toward consolidation which has been as marked in -journalism as in other spheres of business activity—for this is purely a -business matter. True, in the cases of the Sun and the _Press_ Mr. -Munsey’s controlling motive was probably the desire to obtain the -Associated Press service for the _Sun_, which he could have secured in -no other way. But Mr. Munsey was not blind to the advantages of -combining the circulation of the _Press_ and the _Sun_, and has profited -by it. - -It is quite possible that there will be further consolidations in New -York and Boston before long; at least conditions are ripe for them. -Chicago has now only four morning newspapers, including the -_Staats-Zeitung_, but one of these has an uncertain future before it. -The _Herald_ of that city is the net result of amalgamations which -successively wiped out the _Record_, the _Times_, the _Chronicle_, and -the _Inter-Ocean_. It is only a few years ago that the _Boston Traveler_ -and the _Evening Herald_ were consolidated, and Philadelphia, Baltimore, -New Orleans, Portland (Oregon), and Philadelphia are other cities in -which there has been a reduction in the number of dailies. - -In the main it is correct to say that the decreasing number of -newspapers in our larger American cities is due to the enormously -increased costs of maintaining great dailies. This has been found to -limit the number which a given advertising territory will support. It is -a fact, too, that there are few other fields of enterprise in which so -many unprofitable enterprises are maintained. There is one penny daily -in New York which has not paid a cent to its owners in twenty years; -during that time its income has met its expenses only once. Another of -our New York dailies loses between $400,000 and $500,000 a year, if -well-founded report is correct, but the deficit is cheerfully met each -year. It may be safely stated that scarcely half of our New York morning -and evening newspapers return an adequate profit. - -The most striking fact about the recent consolidations is that this -leaves Cleveland with only one morning newspaper, the _Plain Dealer_. It -is the sixth city in size in the United States, yet it has not appeared -to be large enough to support both the _Plain Dealer_ and the _Leader_, -not even with the aid of what is called “foreign,” or national, -advertising, that is, advertising which originates outside of Cleveland. -There are now many other cities in which the seeker after morning news -is compelled to take it from one source only, whatever his political -affiliations may be: in Indianapolis, from the _Star_; in Detroit, from -the _Free Press_; in Toledo, from the _Times_; in Columbus, from the -_State Journal_; in Scranton, from the _Republican_; in St. Paul, from -the _Pioneer Press_; and in New Orleans, from the _Times-Picayune_. This -circumstance comes as a good deal of a shock to those who fancy that at -least the chief political parties should have their representative -dailies in each city—for that is the old American tradition. - -Turning to the State of Michigan, we find that the development has gone -even further, for here are some sizable cities with no morning newspaper -and but one in the evening field. In fourteen cities whose population -has more than doubled during the last twenty-five years the number of -daily newspapers printed in the English language has shrunk from 42 to -only 23. In nine of these fourteen cities there is not a single morning -newspaper; they have but one evening newspaper each to give them the -news of the world, unless they are content to receive their news by mail -from distant cities. On Sunday they are better off, for there are seven -Sunday newspapers in these towns. In the five cities having more than -one newspaper, there are six dailies that are thought to be unprofitable -to their owners, and it is believed that, within a short time, the -number of one-newspaper cities will grow to twelve, in which case -Detroit and Grand Rapids will be the only cities with morning dailies. -It is reported by competent witnesses that the one-newspaper towns are -not only well content with this state of affairs, but that they actively -resist any attempt to change the situation, the merchants in some cases -banding together voluntarily to maintain the monopoly by refusing -advertising to those wishing to start competition. - -It is of course true that in the larger cities of the East there are -other causes than the lack of advertising to account for the -disappearance of certain newspapers. Many of them have deserved to -perish because they were inefficiently managed or improperly edited. The -_Boston Transcript_ declares that the reason for the _Journal’s_ demise -was lack “of that singleness and clearness of direction and purpose -which alone establish confidence in and guarantee abiding support of a -newspaper.” If some of the Hearst newspapers may be cited as examples of -successful journals that have neither clearness nor honesty of purpose, -it is not to be questioned that a newspaper with clear-cut, vigorous -personalities behind it is far more likely to survive than one that does -not have them. But it does not help the situation to point out, as does -the _Columbia_ (S. C.) _State_, that “sentiment and passion” have been -responsible for the launching of many of the newspaper wrecks; for often -sentiment and the righteous passion of indignation have been responsible -for the foundation of notable newspapers such as the _New York Tribune_, -whose financial success was, for a time at least, quite notable. It is -the danger that newspaper conditions, because of the enormously -increased costs and this tendency to monopoly, may prevent people who -are actuated by passion and sentiment from founding newspapers, which is -causing many students of the situation much concern. What is to be the -hope for the advocates of new-born and unpopular reforms if they cannot -have a press of their own, as the Abolitionists and the founders of the -Republican party set up theirs in a remarkably short time, usually with -poverty-stricken bank accounts? - -If no good American can read of cities having only one newspaper without -concern,—since democracy depends largely upon the presenting of both -sides of every issue,—it does not add any comfort to know that it would -take millions to found a new paper, on a strictly business basis, in our -largest cities. Only extremely wealthy men could undertake such a -venture,—precisely as the rejuvenated _Chicago Herald_ has been financed -by a group of the city’s wealthiest magnates,—and even then the success -of the undertaking would be questionable if it were not possible to -secure the Associated Press service for the newcomer. - -The “journal of protest,” it may be truthfully said, is to-day being -confined, outside of the Socialistic press, to weeklies of varying -types, of which the _Survey_, the _Public_, and the _St. Louis Mirror_, -are examples; and scores of them fall by the wayside. The large sums -necessary to establish a journal of opinion are being demonstrated by -the _New Republic_. Gone is the day when a _Liberator_ can be founded -with a couple of hundred dollars as capital. The struggle of the _New -York Call_ to keep alive, and that of some of our Jewish newspapers, are -clear proof that conditions to-day make strongly against those who are -fired by passion and sentiment to give a new and radical message to the -world. - -True, there is still opportunity in small towns for editorial courage -and ability; William Allen White has demonstrated that. But in the small -towns the increased costs due to the war are being felt as keenly as in -the larger cities. _Ayer’s Newspaper Directory_ shows a steady shrinkage -during the last three years in the weeklies, semi-weeklies, -tri-weeklies, and semi-monthlies, there being 300 less in 1916 than in -1914. There lies before me a list of 76 dailies and weeklies over which -the funeral rites have been held since January 1, 1917; to some of them -the government has administered the _coup de grace_. There are three -Montreal journals among them, and a number of little German -publications, together with the notorious _Appeal to Reason_ and a -couple of farm journals: 21 states are represented in the list, which is -surely not complete. - -Many dailies have sought to save themselves by increasing their price to -two cents, as in Chicago, Pittsburg, Buffalo, and Philadelphia; and -everywhere there has been a raising of mail-subscription and advertising -rates, in an effort to offset the enormous and persistent rise in the -cost of paper and labor. It is indisputable, however, that, if we are in -for a long war, many of the weaker city dailies and the country dailies -must go to the wall, just as there have been similar failures in every -one of the warring nations of Europe. - -Surveying the newspaper field as a whole, there has not been of late -years a marked development of the tendency to group together a number of -newspapers under one ownership in the manner of Northcliffe. Mr. Hearst, -thanks be to fortune, has not added to his string lately; his group of -_Examiners_, _Journals_, and _Americans_ is popularly believed not to be -making any large sums of money for him, because the weaker members -offset the earnings of the prosperous ones, and there is reputed to be -great managerial waste.[2] When Mr. Munsey buys another daily, he -usually sells an unprosperous one or adds another grave to his private -and sizable newspaper cemetery. The Scripps-McRae Syndicate, comprising -some 22 dailies, has not added to its number since 1911. - -Footnote 2: - - Mr. Hearst acquired the _Boston Advertiser_ in November 1917, shortly - after this article was written.-ED. - -In Michigan the Booth Brothers control six clean, independent papers, -which, for the local reasons given above, exercise a remarkable -influence. The situation in that state shows clearly how comparatively -easy it would be for rich business men, with selfish or partisan -purpose, to dominate public opinion there and poison the public mind -against anything they disliked. It is a situation to cause much -uneasiness when one looks into the more distant future and considers the -distrust of the press because of a far-reaching belief that the large -city newspaper, being a several-million-dollar affair, must necessarily -have managers in close alliance with other men in great business -enterprises,—the chamber of commerce, the merchants’ association -group,—and therefore wholly detached from the aspirations of the plain -people. - -Those who feel thus will be disturbed by another remarkable -consolidation in the field of newspaper-making—the recent absorption of -a large portion of the business of the American Press Association by the -Western Newspaper Union. The latter now has an almost absolute monopoly -in supplying “plate” and “ready to print” matter to the small daily -newspapers and the country weeklies—“patent insides” is a more familiar -term. The Western Newspaper Union to-day furnishes plate matter to -nearly fourteen thousand newspapers—a stupendous number. In 1912 a -United States court in Chicago forbade this very consolidation as one in -restraint of trade; to-day it permits it because the great rise in the -cost of plate matter, from four to seventeen cents a pound, seems to -necessitate the extinction of the old competition and the establishment -of a monopoly. The court was convinced that this field of newspaper -enterprise will no longer support two rival concerns. An immense power -which could be used to influence public opinion is thus placed in the -hands of the officers of a money-making concern, for news matter is -furnished as well as news photogravures. - -Only the other day I heard of a boast that a laudatory article praising -a certain astute Democratic politician had appeared in no less than -7,000 publications of the Union’s clients. Who can estimate the value of -such an advertisement? Who can deny the power enormously to influence -rural public opinion for better or for worse? Who can deny that the very -innocent aspect of such a publication makes it a particularly easy, as -well as effective, way of conducting propaganda for better or for worse? -So far it has been to the advantage of both the associations to carry -the propaganda matter of the great political parties,—they deny any -intentional propaganda of their own,—but one cannot help wondering -whether this will always be the case, and whether there is not danger -that some day this tremendous power may be used in the interest of some -privileged undertaking or some self-seeking politicians. At least, it -would seem as if our law-makers, already so critical of the press, might -be tempted to declare the Union a public-service corporation and, -therefore, bound to transmit all legitimate news offered to it. - -In the strictly news-gathering field there is probably a decrease of -competition at hand. The Allied governments abroad and our courts at -home have struck a hard blow at the Hearst news-gathering concern, the -International News Association, which has been excluded from England and -her colonies, Italy, and France, and has recently been convicted of -news-stealing and falsification on the complaint of the Associated -Press. The case is now pending an appeal in the Supreme Court, when the -decision of the lower court may be reversed. If, as a result of these -proceedings, the association eventually goes out of business, it will be -to the public advantage, that is, if honest, uncolored news is a -desideratum. This will give to the Associated Press—the only press -association which is altogether coöperative and makes no profit by the -sale of its news—a monopoly in the morning field. If this lack of -organized competition—it is daily competing with the special -correspondents of all the great newspapers—has its drawbacks, it is -certainly reassuring that throughout this unprecedented war the -Associated Press has brought over an enormous volume of news with a -minimum of just complaints as to the fidelity of that news—save that it -is, of course, rigidly censored in every country, and particularly in -passing through England. It has met vast problems with astounding -success. - -But it is in considerable degree dependent upon foreign news agencies, -like Reuter’s, the Havas Agency in France, the Wolf Agency in Germany, -and others, including the official Russian agency. Where these are not -frankly official agencies, they are the creatures of their governments -and have been either deliberately used by them to mislead others, and -particularly foreign nations, or to conceal the truth from their own -subjects. As Dean Walter Williams, of the University of Missouri School -of Journalism, has lately pointed out, if there is one thing needed -after this war, it is the abolition of these official and semi-official -agencies with their frequent stirring up of racial and international -hatreds. A free press after the war is as badly needed as freedom of the -seas and freedom from conscienceless kaisers and autocrats. - -At home, when the war is over, there is certain to be as relatively -striking a slant toward social reorganization, reform, and economic -revolution as had taken place in Russia, and is taking place in England -as related by the _London Times_. When that day comes here, the deep -smouldering distrust of our press will make itself felt. Our Fourth -Estate is to have its day of overhauling and of being muckraked. The -perfectly obvious hostility toward newspapers of the present Congress, -as illustrated by its attempt to impose a direct and special tax upon -them; its rigorous censorship in spite of the profession’s protest of -last spring; and the heavy additional postage taxes levied upon some -classes of newspapers and the magazines, goes far to prove this. But -even more convincing is the dissatisfaction with the metropolitan press -in every reform camp and among the plain people. It has grown -tremendously because the masses are, rightly or wrongly, convinced that -the newspapers with heavy capital investments are a “capitalistic” press -and, therefore, opposed to their interests. - -This feeling has grown all the more because so many hundreds of -thousands who were opposed to our going to war and are opposed to it now -still feel that their views—as opposed to those of the prosperous and -intellectual classes—were not voiced in the press last winter. They know -that their position to-day is being misrepresented as disloyal or -pro-German by the bulk of the newspapers. In this situation many are -turning to the Socialistic press as their one refuge. They, and -multitudes who have gradually been losing faith in the reliability of -our journalism, for one reason or another, can still be won back if we -journalists will but slake their intense thirst for reliable, -trustworthy news, for opinions free from class bias and not always set -forth from the point of view of the well-to-do and the privileged. How -to respond to this need is the greatest problem before the American -press. Meanwhile, on the business side we drift toward consolidation on -a resistless economic current, which foams past numberless rocks, and -leads no man knows whither. - - - - - THE WANING POWER OF THE PRESS - - BY FRANCIS E. LEUPP - - - I - -After the last ballot had been cast and counted in the recent mayoralty -contest in New York, the successful candidate paid his respects to the -newspapers which had opposed him. This is equivalent to saying that he -paid them to the whole metropolitan press; for every great daily -newspaper except one had done its best to defeat him, and that one had -given him only a left-handed support.[3] The comments of the -mayor-elect, although not ill-tempered, led up to the conclusion that in -our common-sense generation nobody cares what the newspapers say. - -Footnote 3: - - The conditions here referred to in the election of Mayor Gaynor in - 1909 were almost duplicated in 1917, when Mayor Mitchel was defeated - for reëlection, although all the New York newspapers, except the two - Hearst papers and the Socialist daily, supported him.—ED. - -Unflattering as such a verdict may be, probably a majority of the -community, if polled as a jury, would concur in it. The airy dismissal -of some proposition as “mere newspaper talk” is heard at every social -gathering, till one who was brought up to regard the press as a mighty -factor in modern civilization is tempted to wonder whether it has -actually lost the power it used to wield among us. The answer seems to -me to depend on whether we are considering direct or indirect effects. A -newspaper exerts its most direct influence through its definite -interpretation of current events. Its indirect influence radiates from -the amount and character of the news it prints, the particular features -it accentuates, and its method of presenting these. Hence it is always -possible that its direct influence may be trifling, while its indirect -influence is large; its direct influence harmless, but its indirect -influence pernicious; or _vice versa_. - -A distinction ought to be made here like that which we make between -credulity and nerves. The fact that a dwelling in which a mysterious -murder has been committed may for years thereafter go begging in vain -for a tenant, does not mean that a whole cityful of fairly intelligent -people are victims of the ghost obsession; but it does mean that no -person enjoys being reminded of midnight assassination every time he -crosses his own threshold; for so persistent a companionship with a -discomforting thought is bound to depress the best nervous system ever -planted in a human being. So the constant iteration of any idea in a -daily newspaper will presently capture public attention, whether the -idea be good or bad, sensible or foolish. Though the influence of the -press, through its ability to keep certain subjects always before its -readers, has grown with its growth in resources and patronage, its hold -on popular confidence has unquestionably been loosened during the last -forty or fifty years. To Mayor Gaynor’s inference, as to most -generalizations of that sort, we need not attach serious importance. The -interplay of so many forces in a political campaign makes it -impracticable to separate the influence of the newspapers from the rest, -and either hold it solely accountable for the result, or pass it over as -negligible; for if we tried to formulate any sweeping rules, we should -find it hard to explain the variegated records of success and defeat -among newspaper favorites. But it may be worth while to inquire why an -institution so full of potentialities as a free press does not produce -more effect than it does, and why so many of its leading writers to-day -find reason to deplore the altered attitude of the people toward it. - -Not necessarily in their order of importance, but for convenience of -consideration, I should list the causes for this change about as -follows: the transfer of both properties and policies from personal to -impersonal control; the rise of the cheap magazine; the tendency to -specialization in all forms of public instruction; the fierceness of -competition in the newspaper business; the demand for larger capital, -unsettling the former equipoise between counting-room and editorial -room; the invasion of newspaper offices by the universal mania of hurry; -the development of the news-getting at the expense of the -news-interpreting function; the tendency to remould narratives of fact -so as to confirm office-made policies; the growing disregard of decency -in the choice of news to be specially exploited; and the scant time now -spared by men of the world for reading journals of general intelligence. - -In the old-style newspaper, in spite of the fact that the editorial -articles were usually anonymous, the editor’s name appeared among the -standing notices somewhere in every issue, or was so well known to the -public that we talked about “what Greeley thought” of this or that, or -wondered “whether Bryant was going to support” a certain ticket, or -shook our heads over the latest sensational screed in “Bennett’s paper.” -The identity of such men was clear in the minds of a multitude of -readers who might sometimes have been puzzled to recall the title of the -sheet edited by each. We knew their private histories and their -idiosyncrasies; they were to us no mere abstractions on the one hand, or -wire-worked puppets on the other, but living, moving, sentient human -beings; and our acquaintance with them enabled us, as we believed, to -locate fairly well their springs of thought and action. Indeed, their -very foibles sometimes furnished our best exegetical key to their -writings. - -When a politician whom Bryant had criticised threatened to pull his -nose, and Bryant responded by stalking ostentatiously three times around -the bully at their next meeting in public, the readers of the _Evening -Post_ did not lose faith in the editor because he was only human, but -guessed about how far to discount future utterances of the paper with -regard to his antagonist. When Bennett avowed his intention of -advertising the _Herald_ without the expenditure of a dollar, by -attacking his enemies so savagely as to goad them into a physical -assault, everybody understood the motives behind the warfare on both -sides, and attached to it only the significance that the facts -warranted. Knowing Dana’s affiliations, no one mistook the meaning of -the _Sun’s_ dismissal of General Hancock as “a good man, weighing two -hundred and fifty pounds, but ... not Samuel J. Tilden.” And Greeley’s -retort to Bryant, “You lie, villain! willfully, wickedly, basely lie!” -and his denunciation of Bennett as a “low-mouthed, blatant, witless, -brutal scoundrel,” though not preserved as models of amenity for the -emulation of budding editors, were felt to be balanced by the delicious -frankness of the _Tribune’s_ announcement of “the dissolution of the -political firm of Seward, Weed & Greeley by the withdrawal of the junior -partner.” - -With all its faults, that era of personal journalism had some rugged -virtues. In referring to it, I am reminded of a remark made to me, years -ago, by the oldest editor then living,—so old that he had employed Weed -as a journeyman, and refused to hire Greeley as a tramp printer,—that -“in the golden age of our craft, every editor wore his conscience on his -arm, and carried his dueling weapon in his hand, walked always in the -light where the whole world could see him, and was prepared to defend -his published opinions with his life if need be.” Without going to that -extreme, it is easy to sympathize with the veteran’s view that a man of -force, who writes nothing for which he is not ready to be personally -responsible, commands more respect from the mass of his fellows than one -who shields himself behind a rampart of anonymity, and voices only the -sentiments of a profit-seeking corporation. - -Of course, the transfer of our newspapers from personal to corporate -ownership and control was not a matter of preference, but a practical -necessity. The expense of modernizing the mechanical equipment alone -imposed a burden which few newspaper proprietors were able to carry -unaided. Add to that the cost of an ever-expanding news-service, and the -higher salaries demanded by satisfactory employees in all departments, -and it is hardly wonderful that one private owner after another gave up -his single-handed struggle against hopeless financial odds, and sought -aid from men of larger means. Partnership relations involve so many -risks, and are so hard to shift in an emergency, that resort was had to -the form of a corporation, which afforded the advantage of a limited -liability, and enabled a shareholder to dispose of his interest if he -tired of the game. Since the dependence of a newspaper on the favor of -an often whimsical public placed it among the least attractive forms of -investment, even under these well-guarded conditions, the capitalists -who were willing to take large blocks of stock were usually men with -political or speculative ends to gain, to which they could make a -newspaper minister by way of compensating them for the hazards they -faced. - -These newcomers were not idealists, like the founders and managers of -most of the important journals of an earlier period. They were men of -keen commercial instincts, evidenced by the fact that they had -accumulated wealth. They naturally looked at everything through the -medium of the balance-sheet. Here was a paper with a fine reputation, -but uncertain or disappearing profits; it must be strengthened, -enlarged, and made to pay. Principles? Yes, principles were good things, -but we must not ride even good things to death. The noblest cause in -creation cannot be promoted by a defunct newspaper, and to keep its -champion alive there must be a net cash income. The circulation must be -pushed, and the advertising patronage increased. More circulation can be -secured only by keeping the public stirred up. Employ private detectives -to pursue the runaway husband, and bring him back to his wife; organize -a marine expedition to find the missing ship; send a reporter into the -Soudan to interview the beleaguered general whose own government is -powerless to reach him with an army. Blow the trumpet, and make ringing -announcements every day. If nothing new is to be had, refurbish -something so old that people have forgotten it, and spread it over lots -of space. Who will know the difference? - -What one newspaper did, that others were forced to do or be distanced in -the competition. It all had its effect. A craving for excitement was -first aroused in the public, and then satisfied by the same hand that -had aroused it. Nobody wished to be behind the times, so circulations -were swelled gradually to tenfold their old dimensions. Rivalry was -worked up among the advertisers in their turn, till a half-page in a big -newspaper commanded a price undreamed of a few years before. Thus one -interest was made to foster another, each increase of income involving -also an increase of cost, and each additional outlay bringing fresh -returns. In such a race for business success, with such forces behind -the runners, can we marvel at the subsidence of ideals which in the days -of individual control and slower gait were uppermost? With the -capitalists’ plans to promote, and powerful advertisers to conciliate by -emphasizing this subject or discreetly ignoring that, is not the wonder -rather that the moral quality of our press has not fallen below its -present standard? - -Even in our day we occasionally find an editor who pays his individual -tribute to the old conception of personal responsibility by giving his -surname to his periodical or signing his leading articles himself. In -such newspaper ventures as Mr. Bryan and Mr. La Follette have launched -within a few years, albeit their motives are known to be political and -partisan, more attention is attracted by one of their deliverances than -by a score of impersonal preachments. Mr. Hearst, the high priest of -sensational journalism, though not exploiting his own authority in the -same way, has always taken pains to advertise the individual work of -such lieutenants as Bierce and Brisbane; and he, like Colonel Taylor of -Boston, early opened his editorial pages to contributions from -distinguished authors outside of his staff, with their signatures -attached. A few editors I have known who, in whatever they wrote with -their own hands, dropped the diffusive “we” and adopted the more direct -and intimate “I.” These things go to show that even journalists who have -received most of their training in the modern school appreciate that -trait in our common human nature which prompts us to pay more heed to a -living voice than to a talking-machine. - - - II - -The importance of a responsible personality finds further confirmation -in the evolution of the modern magazine. From being what its title -indicates, a place of storage for articles believed to have some -permanent value, the magazine began to take on a new character about -twenty years ago. While preserving its distinct identity and its -originality, it leaped boldly into the newspaper arena, and sought its -topics in the happenings of the day, regardless of their evanescence. It -raised a corps of men and women who might otherwise have toiled in -obscurity all their lives, and gave them a chance to become authorities -on questions of immediate interest, till they are now recognized as -constituting a limited but highly specialized profession. One group -occupied itself with trusts and trust magnates; another with politicians -whose rise had been so meteoric as to suggest a romance behind it; -another with the inside history of international episodes; another with -new religious movements and their leaders, and so on. - -What was the result? The public following which the newspaper editors -used to command when they did business in the open, but which was -falling away from their anonymous successors, attached itself promptly -to the magazinists. The citizen interested in insurance reform turned -eagerly to all that emanated from the group in charge of that topic; -whoever aspired to take part in the social uplift bought every number of -every periodical in which the contributions of another group appeared; -the hater of monopoly paid a third group the same compliment. What was -more, the readers pinned their faith to their favorite writers, and -quoted Mr. Steffens and Miss Tarbell and Mr. Baker on the specialty each -had taken, with much the same freedom with which they might have quoted -Darwin on plant-life, or Edison on electricity. If any anonymous editor -ventured to question the infallibility of one of these prophets of the -magazine world, the common multitude wasted no thought on the merits of -the issue, but sided at once with the teacher whom they knew at least by -name, against the critic whom they knew not at all. The uncomplimentary -assumption as to the latter always seemed to be that, as only a -subordinate part of a big organism, he was speaking, not from his heart, -but from his orders; and that he must have some sinister design in -trying to discredit an opponent who was not afraid to stand out and face -his fire. - -Apropos, let us not fail to note the constant trend, of recent years, -toward specialization in every department of life and thought. There was -a time when a pronouncement from certain men on nearly any theme would -be accepted by the public, not only with the outward respect commanded -by persons of their social standing, but with a large measure of -positive credence. One who enjoyed a general reputation for scholarship -might set forth his views this week on a question of archæology, next -week on the significance of the latest earthquake, and a week later on -the new canals on the planet Mars, with the certainty that each -outgiving would affect public opinion to a marked degree; whereas -nowadays we demand that the most distinguished members of our learned -faculty stick each to his own hobby; the antiquarian to the excavations, -the seismologist to the tremors of our planet, the astronomer to our -remoter colleagues of the solar system. It is the same with our writers -on political, social, and economic problems. Whereas the old-time editor -was expected to tell his constituency what to think on any subject -called up by the news overnight, it is now taken for granted that even -news must be classified and distributed between specialists for comment; -and the very sense that only one writer is trusted to handle any -particular class of topics inspires a desire in the public to know who -that writer is before paying much attention to his opinions. - -The intense competition between newspapers covering the same field -sometimes leads to consequences which do not strengthen the esteem of -the people at large for the press at large. Witness the controversy -which arose over the conflicting claims of Commander Peary and Dr. Cook -as the original discoverer of the North Pole. One newspaper syndicate -having, at large expense, procured a narrative directly from the pen of -Cook, and another accomplished a like feat with Peary, to which could -“we, the people,” look for an unbiased opinion on the matters in -dispute? An admission by either that its star contributor could trifle -with the truth was equivalent to throwing its own exploit into -bankruptcy. So each was bound to stand by the claimant with whom it had -first identified itself, and fight the battle out like an attorney under -retainer; and what started as a serious contest of priority in a -scientific discovery threatened to end as a wrangle over a newspaper -“beat.” - -Then, too, we must reckon with the progressive acceleration of the pace -of our twentieth-century life generally. Where we walked in the old -times, we run in these; where we ambled then, we gallop now. It is the -age of electric power, high explosives, articulated steel frames, in the -larger world; of the long-distance telephone, the taxicab, and the -card-index, in the narrower. The problem of existence is reduced to -terms of time-measurement, with the detached lever substituted for the -pendulum because it produces a faster tick. - -What is the effect of all this on the modernized newspaper? It must be -first on the ground at every activity, foreseen or unforeseeable, as a -matter of course. Its reporter must get off his “story” in advance of -all his rivals. Never mind strict accuracy of detail—effect is the main -thing; he is writing, not for expert accountants, or professional -statisticians, or analytic philosophers, but for the public; and what -the public wants is, not dry particulars, but color, vitality, heat. -Pictures being a quicker medium of communication with the reader’s mind -than printed text, nine-tenths of our daily press is illustrated, and -the illustrations of distant events are usually turned out by artists in -the home office from verbal descriptions. What signifies it if only -three cars went off the broken bridge, and the imaginative draftsman put -five into his picture because he could not wait for the dispatch of -correction which almost always follows the lurid “scoop”? Who is harmed -if the telegram about the suicide reads “shots” instead of “stabs,” and -the artist depicts the self-destroyer clutching a smoking pistol instead -of a dripping dirk? - -It is the province of the champion of the up-to-date cult to minimize -the importance of detail. The purpose of the picture, he argues, is to -stamp a broad impression instantaneously on the mind, and thus spare it -the more tedious process of reading. And if one detail too many is put -in, or one omitted which ought to have been there, whoever is -sufficiently interested to read the text will discover the fault, and -whoever is not will give it no further thought anyway. As to the -descriptive matter, suppose it does contain errors? The busy man of our -day does not read his newspaper with the same solemn intent with which -he reads history. What he asks of it is a lightning-like glimpse of the -world which will show him how far it has moved in the last twelve hours; -and he will not pause to complain of a few deviations from the straight -line of truth, especially if it would have taken more than the twelve -hours to rectify them. - -This would perhaps be good logic if the pure-food law were broadened in -scope so as to apply to mental pabulum, and every concocter of newspaper -stories and illustrations were compelled to label his adulterated -products. Then the consumer who does not object to a diet of mixed fact -and falsehood, accuracy and carelessness, so long as the compound is so -seasoned as to tickle his palate, could have his desire, while his -neighbor who wishes an honest article or nothing at all could have his -also. As it is, with no distinguishing marks, we are liable to buy one -thing and get another. - -The new order of “speed before everything” has brought about its changes -at both ends of a newspaper staff. The editorial writer who used to take -a little time to look into the ramifications of a topic before reducing -his opinions to writing, feels humiliated if an event occurs on which he -cannot turn off a few comments at sight; but he has still a refuge in -such modifying clauses as “in the light of the meagre details now before -us,” or “as it appears at this writing,” or “in spite of the absence of -full particulars, which may later change the whole aspect of affairs.” - -No such covert offers itself to the news-getter in the open field. What -he says must be definite, outright, unqualified, or the blue pencil -slashes remorselessly through his “it is suspected,” or “according to a -rumor which cannot be traced to its original source.” What business has -he to “suspect”? He is hired to know. For what, pray, is the newspaper -paying him, if not for tracing rumors to their original source; and -further still, if so instructed? He is there to be, not a thinker, but a -worker; a human machine like a steam potato-digger, which, supplied with -the necessary energizing force from behind, drives its prods under -nature’s mantle, and grubs out the succulent treasures she is trying to -conceal. - - - III - -Nowhere is the change more patent than in the department of special -correspondence. At an important point like Washington, for instance, the -old corps of writers were men of mature years, most of whom had passed -an apprenticeship in the editorial chair, and still held a -semi-editorial relation to the newspapers they represented. They had -studied political history and economics, social philosophy, and kindred -subjects, as a preparation for their life-work, and were full of a -wholesome sense of responsibility to the public as well as to their -employers. Poore, Nelson, Boynton, and others of their class, were known -by name, and regarded as authorities, in the communities to which they -daily ministered. They were thoughtful workers as well as enterprising. -They went for their news to the fountain-head, instead of dipping it out -of any chance pool by the wayside. When they sent in to their home -offices either fact or prophecy, they accompanied it with an -interpretation which both editors and public knew to be no mere feat in -lightning guesswork; and the fame which any of them prized more than a -long calendar of “beats” and “exclusives” was that which would -occasionally move a worsted competitor to confess, “I missed that news; -but if —— sent it out, it is true.” - -When, in the later eighties, the new order came, it came with a rush. -The first inkling of it was a notice received, in the middle of one busy -night, by a correspondent who had been faithfully serving a prominent -Western newspaper for a dozen years, to turn over his bureau to a young -man who up to that time had been doing local reporting on its home -staff. Transfers of other bureaus followed fast. A few were left, and -still remain, undisturbed in personnel or character of work. Here and -there, too, an old-fashioned correspondent was retained, but retired to -an emeritus post, with the privilege of writing a signed letter when the -spirit moved him; while a nimbler-footed successor assumed titular -command and sent the daily dispatches. The bald fact was that the -newspaper managers had bowed to the hustling humor of the age. They no -longer cared to serve journalistic viands, which required deliberate -mastication, to patrons who clamored for a quick lunch. So they passed -on to their representatives at a distance the same injunction they were -incessantly pressing upon their reporters at home: “Get the news, and -send it while it is hot. Don’t wait to tell us what it means or what it -points to; we can do our own ratiocinating.” - -Is the public a loser by this obscuration of the correspondent’s former -function? I believe so. His appeal is no longer put to the reader -directly: he becomes the mere tool of the newspaper, which in its turn -furnishes to the reader such parts of his and other communications as it -chooses, and in such forms as best suit its ulterior purposes. Doubtless -this conduces to a more perfect administrative coördination in the staff -at large, but it greatly weakens the correspondent’s sense of personal -responsibility. Poore had his constituency, Boynton had his, Nelson had -his. None of these men would, under any conceivable stress of -competition, have wittingly misled the group of readers he had attached -to himself; nor would one of them have tolerated any tampering in the -home office with essential matters in a contribution to which he had -signed his name. Indeed, so well was this understood that I never heard -of anybody’s trying to tamper with them. It occasionally happened that -the correspondent set forth a view somewhat at variance with that -expressed on the editorial page of the same paper; but each party to -this disagreement respected the other, and the public was assumed to be -capable of making its own choice between opposing opinions clearly -stated. A special virtue of the plan of independent correspondence lay -in the opportunity it often afforded the habitual reader of a single -newspaper to get at least a glance at more than one side of a public -question. - -Among the conspicuous fruits of the new régime is the direction -sometimes sent to a correspondent to “write down” this man or “write up” -that project. He knows that it is a case of obey orders or resign, and -it brings to the surface all the Hessian he may have in his blood. If he -is enough of a casuist, he will try to reconcile good conscience with -worldly wisdom by picturing himself as a soldier commanded to do -something of which he does not approve. Disobedience at the post of duty -is treachery; resignation in the face of an unwelcome billet is -desertion. So he does what he is bidden, though it may be at the cost of -his self-respect and the esteem of others whose kind opinion he values. -I have had a young correspondent come to me for information about -something under advisement at the White House, and apologize for not -going there himself by showing me a note from his editor telling him to -“give the President hell.” As he had always been treated with courtesy -at the White House, he had not the hardihood to go there while engaged -in his campaign of abuse. - -Another, who had been intimate with a member of the administration then -in power, was suddenly summoned one day to a conference with the -publisher of his paper. He went in high spirits, believing that the -invitation must mean at least a promotion in rank or an increase of -salary. He returned crestfallen. Several days afterward he revealed to -me in confidence that the paper had been unsuccessfully seeking some -advertising controlled by his friend, and that the publisher had offered -him one thousand dollars for a series of articles—anonymous, if he -preferred—exposing the private weaknesses of the eminent man, and giving -full names, dates, and other particulars as to a certain unsavory -association in which he was reported to find pleasure! Still another -brought me a dispatch he had prepared, requesting me to look it over and -see whether it contained anything strictly libelous. It proved to be a -forecast of the course of the Secretary of the Treasury in a financial -crisis then impending. “Technically speaking,” I said, after reading it, -“there is plenty of libelous material in this, for it represents the -Secretary as about to do something which, to my personal knowledge, he -has never contemplated, and which would stamp him as unfit for his -position if he should attempt it. But as a matter of fact he will ignore -your story, as he is putting into type to-day a circular which is to be -made public to-morrow, telling what his plan really is, and that will -authoritatively discredit you.” - -“Thank you,” he answered, rather stiffly. “I have my orders to pitch -into the Secretary whenever I get a chance. I shall send this to-day, -and to-morrow I can send another saying that my exclusive disclosures -forced him to change his programme at the last moment.” - -These are sporadic cases, I admit, yet they indicate a mischievous -tendency; just as each railway accident is itself sporadic, but too -frequent fatalities from a like cause on the same line point to -something wrong in the management of the road. It is not necessary to -call names on the one hand, or indulge in wholesale denunciation on the -other, in order to indicate the extremes to which the current pace in -journalism must inevitably lead if kept up. The broadest-minded and most -honorable men in our calling realize the disagreeable truth. A few of -the great newspapers, too, have the courage to cling still to the old -ideals, both in their editorial attitude and in their instructions to -their news-gatherers. Possibly their profits are smaller for their -squeamishness; but that the better quality of their patronage makes up -in a measure for its lesser quantity, is evident to any one familiar -with the advertising business. Moreover, in the character of its -employees and in the zeal and intelligence of their service, a newspaper -conducted on the higher plane possesses an asset which cannot be -appraised in dollars and cents. Of one such paper a famous man once said -to me, “I disagree with half its political views; I am regarded as a -personal enemy by its editor; but I read it religiously every day, and -it is the only daily that enters the front door of my home. It is a -paper written by gentlemen for gentlemen; and, though it exasperates me -often, it never offends my nostrils with the odors of the slums.” - -This last remark leads to another consideration touching the relaxed -hold of the press on public confidence: I refer to the topics treated in -the news columns, and the manner of their presentation. Its importance -is attested by the sub-titles or mottoes adopted by several prominent -newspapers, emphasizing their appeal to the family as a special -constituency. In spite of the intense individualism, the reciprocal -independence of the sexes, and the freedom from the trammels of feudal -tradition of which we Americans boast, the social unit in this country -is the family. Toward it a thousand lines of interest converge, from it -a thousand lines of influence flow. Public opinion is unconsciously -moulded by it, for the atmosphere of the home follows the father into -his office, the son into his college, the daughter into her intimate -companionships. The newspaper, therefore, which keeps the family in -touch with the outside world, though it may have to be managed with more -discretion than one whose circulation is chiefly in the streets, finds -its compensation in its increased radius of influence of the subtler -sort. For such a field, nothing is less fit than the noisome domestic -scandals and the gory horrors which fill so much of the space in -newspapers of the lowest rank, and which in these later years have made -occasional inroads into some of a higher grade. Unfortunately, these -occasional inroads do more to damage the general standing of the press -than the habitual revel in vulgarity. For a newspaper which frankly -avows itself unhampered by niceties of taste can be branded and set -aside as belonging in the impossible category; whereas, when one with a -clean exterior and a reputation for respectability proves unworthy, its -faithlessness arouses in the popular mind a distrust of all its class. - -And yet, whatever we may say of the modern press on its less commendable -side, we are bound to admit that newspapers, like governments, fairly -reflect the people they serve. Charles Dudley Warner once went so far as -to say that no matter how objectionable the character of a paper may be, -it is always a trifle better than the patrons on whom it relies for its -support. I suspect that Mr. Warner’s comparison rested on the greater -frankness of the bad paper, which, by very virtue of its mode of appeal, -is bound to make a brave parade of its worst qualities; whereas the -reader who is loudest in proclaiming in public his repugnance for -horrors, and his detestation of scandals, may in private be buying daily -the sheet which peddles both most shamelessly. - -This sort of conventional hypocrisy among the common run of people is -easier to forgive than the same thing among the cultivated few whom we -accept as mentors. I stumbled upon an illuminating incident about five -years ago which I cannot forbear recalling here. A young man just -graduated from college, where he had attracted some attention by the -cleverness of his pen, was invited to a position on the staff of the -_New York Journal_. Visiting a leading member of the college faculty to -say farewell, he mentioned this compliment with not a little pride. In -an instant the professor was up in arms, with an earnest protest against -his handicapping his whole career by having anything to do with so -monstrous an exponent of yellow journalism. The lad was deeply moved by -the good man’s outburst, and went home sorrowful. After a night’s sleep -on it, he resolved to profit by the admonition, and accordingly called -upon the editor, and asked permission to withdraw his tentative -acceptance. In the explanation which followed he inadvertently let slip -the name of his adviser. He saw a cynical smile cross the face of Mr. -Hearst, who summoned a stenographer, and in his presence dictated a -letter to the professor, requesting a five-hundred-word signed article -for the next Sunday’s issue and inclosing a check for two hundred and -fifty dollars. On Sunday the ingenuous youth beheld the article in a -conspicuous place on the _Journal’s_ editorial page, with the -professor’s full name appended in large capitals. - - -We have already noted some of the effects produced on the press by the -hurry-skurry of our modern life. Quite as significant are sundry -phenomena recorded by Dr. Walter Dill Scott as the result of an inquiry -into the reading habits of two thousand representative business and -professional men in a typical American city. Among other things, he -discovered that most of them spent not to exceed fifteen minutes a day -on their newspapers. As some spent less, and some divided the time -between two or three papers, the average period devoted to any one paper -could safely be placed at from five to ten minutes. The admitted -practice of most of the group was to look at the headlines, the table of -contents, and the weather reports, and then apparently at some specialty -in which they were individually interested. The editorial articles seem -to have offered them few attractions, but news items of one sort or -another engaged seventy-five per cent of their attention. - -In an age as skeptical as ours, there is nothing astonishing in the low -valuation given, by men of a class competent to do their own thinking, -to anonymous opinion; but it will strike many as strange that this class -takes no deeper interest in the news of the day. The trained -psychologist may find it worth while to study out here the relation of -cause and effect. Does the ordinary man of affairs show so scant regard -for his newspaper because he no longer believes half it tells him, or -only because his mind is so absorbed in matters closer at hand, and -directly affecting his livelihood? Have the newspapers perverted the -public taste with sensational surprises till it can no longer appreciate -normal information normally conveyed? - -Professor Münsterberg would doubtless have told us that the foregoing -statistics simply justify his charge against Americans as a people; that -we have gone leaping and gasping through life till we have lost the -faculty of mental concentration, and hence that few of us can read any -more. Whatever the explanation, the central fact has been duly -recognized by all the yellow journals, and by some also which have not -yet passed beyond the cream-colored stage. The “scare heads” and -exaggerated type which, as a lure for purchasers, filled all their needs -a few years ago, are no longer regarded as sufficient, but have given -way to startling bill-board effects, with huge headlines, in -block-letter and vermilion ink, spread across an entire front page. - -The worst phase of this whole business, however, is one which does not -appear on the surface, but which certainly offers food for serious -reflection. The point of view from which all my criticisms have been -made is that of the citizen of fair intelligence and education. It is he -who has been weaned from his faith in the organ of opinion which -satisfied his father, till he habitually sneers at “mere newspaper -talk”; it is he who has descended from reading to simply skimming the -news, and who consciously suffers from the errors which adulterate, and -the vulgarity which taints, that product. But there is another element -in the community which has not his well-sharpened instinct for -discrimination; which can afford to buy only the cheapest, and is drawn -toward the lowest, daily prints; which, during the noon hour and at -night, finds time to devour all the tenement tragedies, all the palace -scandals, and all the incendiary appeals designed to make the poor man -think that thrift is robbery. Over that element we find the vicious -newspaper still exercising an enormous sway; and, admitting that so -large a proportion of the outwardly reputable press has lost its hold -upon the better class of readers, what must we look for as the resultant -of two such unbalanced forces? - -Not a line of these few pages has been written in a carping, much less -in a pessimistic spirit. I love the profession in whose practice I -passed the largest and happiest part of my life; but the very pride I -feel in its worthy achievements makes me, perhaps, the more sensitive to -its shortcomings as these reveal themselves to an unprejudiced scrutiny. -The limits of this article as to both space and scope forbid my -following its subject into some inviting by-paths: as, for instance, the -distinction to be observed between initiative and support in comparing -the influence of the modern newspaper with that of its ancestor of a -half-century ago. I am sorry, also, to put forth so many strictures -without furnishing a constructive sequel. It would be interesting, for -example, to weigh such possibilities as an endowed newspaper which -should do for the press, as a protest against its offenses of -deliberation and its faults of haste and carelessness, what an endowed -theatre might do for the rescue of the stage from a condition of chronic -inanity. But it must remain for a more profound philosopher, whose -function is to specialize in opinion rather than to generalize in -comment, to show what remedies are practicable for the disorders which -beset the body of our modern journalism. - - - - - NEWSPAPER MORALS - - BY H. L. MENCKEN - - - I - -Aspiring, toward the end of my nonage, to the black robes of a dramatic -critic, I took counsel with an ancient whose service went back to the -days of _Our American Cousin_, asking him what qualities were chiefly -demanded by the craft. - -“The main idea,” he told me frankly, “is to be interesting, to write a -good story. All else is dross. Of course, I am not against accuracy, -fairness, information, learning. If you want to read Lessing and -Freytag, Hazlitt and Brunetière, go read them: they will do you no harm. -It is also useful to know something about Shakespeare. But unless you -can make people _read_ your criticisms, you may as well shut up your -shop. And the only way to make them read you is to give them something -exciting.” - -“You suggest, then,” I ventured, “a certain—ferocity?” - -“I do,” replied my venerable friend. “Read George Henry Lewes, and see -how _he_ did it—sometimes with a bladder on a string, usually with a -meat-axe. Knock somebody on the head every day—if not an actor, then the -author, and if not the author, then the manager. And if the play and the -performance are perfect, then excoriate someone who doesn’t think so—a -fellow critic, a rival manager, the unappreciative public. But make it -hearty; make it hot! The public would rather be the butt itself than -have no butt in the ring. That is Rule Number 1 of American -psychology—and of English, too, but more especially of American. You -must give a good show to get a crowd, and a good show means one with -slaughter in it.” - -Destiny soon robbed me of my critical shroud, and I fell into a long -succession of less æsthetic newspaper berths, from that of police -reporter to that of managing editor, but always the advice of my ancient -counselor kept turning over and over in my memory, and as chance offered -I began to act upon it, and whenever I acted upon it I found that it -worked. What is more, I found that other newspaper men acted upon it -too, some of them quite consciously and frankly, and others through a -veil of self-deception, more or less diaphanous. The primary aim of all -of them, no less when they played the secular Iokanaan than when they -played the mere newsmonger, was to please the crowd, to give a good -show; and the way they set about giving that good show was by first -selecting a deserving victim, and then putting him magnificently to the -torture. - -This was their method when they were performing for their own profit -only, when their one motive was to make the public read their paper; but -it was still their method when they were battling bravely and -unselfishly for the public good, and so discharging the highest duty of -their profession. They lightened the dull days of midsummer by pursuing -recreant aldermen with bloodhounds and artillery, by muckraking -unsanitary milk-dealers, or by denouncing Sunday liquor-selling in -suburban parks—and they fought constructive campaigns for good -government in exactly the same gothic, melodramatic way. Always their -first aim was to find a concrete target, to visualize their cause in -some definite and defiant opponent. And always their second aim was to -shell that opponent until he dropped his arms and took to ignominious -flight. It was not enough to maintain and to prove: it was necessary -also to pursue and overcome, to lay a specific somebody low, to give the -good show aforesaid. - -Does this confession of newspaper practice involve a libel upon the -American people? Perhaps it does—on the theory, let us say, that the -greater the truth, the greater the libel. But I doubt if any reflective -newspaper man, however lofty his professional ideals, will ever deny any -essential part of that truth. He knows very well that a definite limit -is set, not only upon the people’s capacity for grasping intellectual -concepts, but also upon their capacity for grasping moral concepts. He -knows that it is necessary, if he would catch and inflame them, to state -his ethical syllogism in the homely terms of their habitual ethical -thinking. And he knows that this is best done by dramatizing and -vulgarizing it, by filling it with dynamic and emotional significance, -by translating all argument for a principle into rage against a man. - -In brief, he knows that it is hard for the plain people to _think_ about -a thing, but easy for them to _feel_. Error, to hold their attention, -must be visualized as a villain, and the villain must proceed swiftly to -his inevitable retribution. They can understand that process; it is -simple, usual, satisfying; it squares with their primitive conception of -justice as a form of revenge. The hero fires them too, but less -certainly, less violently than the villain. His defect is that he offers -thrills at second-hand. It is the merit of the villain, pursued publicly -by a _posse comitatus_, that he makes the public breast the primary seat -of heroism, that he makes every citizen a personal participant in a -glorious act of justice. Wherefore it is ever the aim of the sagacious -journalist to foster that sense of personal participation. The wars that -he wages are always described as the people’s wars, and he himself -affects to be no more than their strategist and _claque_. When the -victory has once been gained, true enough, he may take all the credit -without a blush; but while the fight is going on he always pretends that -every honest yeoman is enlisted, and he is even eager to make it appear -that the yeomanry began it on their own motion, and out of the excess of -their natural virtue. - -I assume here, as an axiom too obvious to be argued, that the chief -appeal of a newspaper, in all such holy causes, is not at all to the -educated and reflective minority of citizens, but frankly to the -ignorant and unreflective majority. The truth is that it would usually -get a newspaper nowhere to address its exhortations to the former; for, -in the first place, they are too few in number to make their support of -much value in general engagements, and, in the second place, it is -almost always impossible to convert them into disciplined and useful -soldiers. They are too cantankerous for that, too ready with -embarrassing strategy of their own. One of the principal marks of an -educated man, indeed, is the fact that he does not take his opinions -from newspapers—not, at any rate, from the militant, crusading -newspapers. On the contrary, his attitude toward them is almost always -one of frank cynicism, with indifference as its mildest form and -contempt as its commonest. He knows that they are constantly falling -into false reasoning about the things within his personal -knowledge,—that is, within the narrow circle of his special -education,—and so he assumes that they make the same, or even worse, -errors about other things, whether intellectual or moral. This -assumption, it may be said at once, is quite justified by the facts. - -I know of no subject, in truth, save perhaps baseball, on which the -average American newspaper, even in the larger cities, discourses with -unfailing sense and understanding. Whenever the public journals presume -to illuminate such a matter as municipal taxation, for example, or the -extension of local transportation facilities, or the punishment of -public or private criminals, or the control of public-service -corporations, or the revision of city charters, the chief effect of -their effort is to introduce into it a host of extraneous issues, most -of them wholly emotional, and so they contrive to make it unintelligible -to all earnest seekers after the truth. - -But it does not follow thereby that they also make it unintelligible to -their special client, the man in the street. Far from it. What they -actually accomplish is the exact opposite. That is to say, it is -precisely by this process of transmutation and emotionalization that -they bring a given problem down to the level of that man’s -comprehension, and, what is more important, within the range of his -active sympathies. He is not interested in anything that does not stir -him, and he is not stirred by anything that fails to impinge upon his -small stock of customary appetites and attitudes. His daily acts are -ordered, not by any complex process of reasoning, but by a continuous -process of very elemental feeling. He is not at all responsive to purely -intellectual argument, even when its theme is his own ultimate benefit, -for such argument quickly gets beyond his immediate interest and -experience. But he is very responsive to emotional suggestion, -particularly when it is crudely and violently made; and it is to this -weakness that the newspapers must ever address their endeavors. In -brief, they must try to arouse his horror, or indignation, or pity, or -simply his lust for slaughter. Once they have done that, they have him -safely by the nose. He will follow blindly until his emotion wears out. -He will be ready to believe anything, however absurd, so long as he is -in his state of psychic tumescence. - -In the reform campaigns which periodically rock our large cities,—and -our small ones, too,—the newspapers habitually make use of this fact. -Such campaigns are not intellectual wars upon erroneous principles, but -emotional wars upon errant men: they always revolve around the pursuit -of some definite, concrete, fugitive malefactor, or group of -malefactors. That is to say, they belong to popular sport rather than to -the science of government; the impulse behind them is always far more -orgiastic than reflective. For good government in the abstract, the -people of the United States seem to have no liking, or, at all events, -no passion. It is impossible to get them stirred up over it, or even to -make them give serious thought to it. They seem to assume that it is a -mere phantasm of theorists, a political will-o’-the-wisp, a utopian -dream—wholly uninteresting, and probably full of dangers and tricks. The -very discussion of it bores them unspeakably, and those papers which -habitually discuss it logically and unemotionally—for example, the _New -York Evening Post_—are diligently avoided by the mob. What the mob -thirsts for is not good government in itself, but the merry chase of a -definite exponent of bad government. The newspaper that discovers such -an exponent—or, more accurately, the newspaper that discovers dramatic -and overwhelming evidence against him—has all the material necessary for -a reform wave of the highest emotional intensity. All that it need do is -to goad the victim into a fight. Once he has formally joined the issue, -the people will do the rest. They are always ready for a man-hunt, and -their favorite quarry is the man of politics. If no such prey is at -hand, they will turn to wealthy debauchees, to fallen Sunday-school -superintendents, to money barons, to white-slave traders, to un-sedulous -chiefs of police. But their first choice is the boss. - -In assaulting bosses, however, a newspaper must look carefully to its -ammunition, and to the order and interrelation of its salvos. There is -such a thing, at the start, as overshooting the mark, and the danger -thereof is very serious. The people must be aroused by degrees, gently -at first, and then with more and more ferocity. They are not capable of -reaching the maximum of indignation at one leap: even on the side of -pure emotion they have their rigid limitations. And this, of course, is -because even emotion must have a quasi-intellectual basis, because even -indignation must arise out of facts. One fact at a time! If a newspaper -printed the whole story of a political boss’s misdeeds in a single -article, that article would have scarcely any effect whatever, for it -would be far too long for the average reader to read and absorb. He -would never get to the end of it, and the part he actually traversed -would remain muddled and distasteful in his memory. Far from arousing an -emotion in him, it would arouse only ennui, which is the very antithesis -of emotion. He cannot read more than three columns of any one subject -without tiring: 6,000 words, I should say, is the extreme limit of his -appetite. And the nearer he is pushed to that limit, the greater the -strain upon his psychic digestion. He can absorb a single capital fact, -leaping from a headline, at one colossal gulp; but he could not down a -dissertation in twenty. And the first desideratum in a headline is that -it deal with a single and capital fact. It must be, “McGinnis Steals -$1,257,867.25,” not, “McGinnis Lacks Ethical Sense.” - -Moreover, a newspaper article which presumed to tell the whole of a -thrilling story in one gargantuan installment would lack the dynamic -element, the quality of mystery and suspense. Even if it should achieve -the miracle of arousing the reader to a high pitch of excitement, it -would let him drop again next day. If he is to be kept in his frenzy -long enough for it to be dangerous to the common foe, he must be led -into it gradually. The newspaper in charge of the business must harrow -him, tease him, promise him, hold him. It is thus that his indignation -is transformed from a state of being into a state of gradual and -cumulative becoming; it is thus that reform takes on the character of a -hotly contested game, with the issue agreeably in doubt. And it is -always as a game, of course, that the man in the street views moral -endeavor. Whether its proposed victim be a political boss, a police -captain, a gambler, a fugitive murderer, or a disgraced clergyman, his -interest in it is almost purely a sporting interest. And the intensity -of that interest, of course, depends upon the fierceness of the clash. -The game is fascinating in proportion as the morally pursued puts up a -stubborn defense, and in proportion as the newspaper directing the -pursuit is resourceful and merciless, and in proportion as the eminence -of the quarry is great and his resultant downfall spectacular. A war -against a ward boss seldom attracts much attention, even in the smaller -cities, for he is insignificant to begin with and an inept and cowardly -fellow to end with; but the famous war upon William M. Tweed shook the -whole nation, for he was a man of tremendous power, he was a brave and -enterprising antagonist, and his fall carried a multitude of other men -with him. Here, indeed, was sport royal, and the plain people took to it -with avidity. - -But once such a buccaneer is overhauled and manacled, the show is over, -and the people take no further interest in reform. In place of the -fallen boss, a so-called reformer has been set up. He goes into office -with public opinion apparently solidly behind him: there is every -promise that the improvement achieved will be lasting. But experience -shows that it seldom is. Reform does not last. The reformer quickly -loses his public. His usual fate, indeed, is to become the pet butt and -aversion of his public. The very mob that put him into office chases him -out of office. And after all, there is nothing very astonishing about -this change of front, which is really far less a change of front than it -seems. The mob has been fed, for weeks preceding the reformer’s -elevation, upon the blood of big and little bosses; it has acquired a -taste for their chase, and for the chase in general. Now, of a sudden, -it is deprived of that stimulating sport. The old bosses are in retreat; -there are yet no new bosses to belabor and pursue; the newspapers which -elected the reformer are busily apologizing for his amateurish errors—a -dull and dispiriting business. No wonder it now becomes possible for the -old bosses, acting through their inevitable friends on the respectable -side,—the “solid” business men, the takers of favors, the underwriters -of political enterprise, and the newspapers influenced by these pious -fellows,—to start the rabble against the reformer. The trick is quite as -easy as that but lately done. The rabble wants a good show, a game, a -victim: it doesn’t care who that victim may be. How easy to convince it -that the reformer is a scoundrel himself, that he is as bad as any of -the old bosses, that he ought to go to the block for high crimes and -misdemeanors! It never had any actual love for him, or even any faith in -him; his election was a mere incident of the chase of his predecessor. -No wonder that it falls upon him eagerly, butchering him to make a new -holiday! - -This is what has happened over and over again in every large American -city—Chicago, New York, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Pittsburg, New Orleans, -Baltimore, San Francisco, St. Paul, Kansas City. Every one of these -places has had its melodramatic reform campaigns and its inevitable -reactions. The people have leaped to the overthrow of bosses, and then -wearied of the ensuing tedium. A perfectly typical slipping back, to be -matched in a dozen other cities, is going on in Philadelphia to-day -[1914]. Mayor Rudolph Blankenberg, a veteran war-horse of reform, came -into office through the downfall of the old bosses, a catastrophe for -which he had labored and agitated for more than thirty years. But now -the old bosses are getting their revenge by telling the people that he -is a violent and villainous boss himself. Certain newspapers are helping -them; they have concealed but powerful support among financiers and -business men; volunteers have even come forward from other cities—for -example, the Mayor of Baltimore. Slowly but surely this insidious -campaign is making itself felt; the common people show signs of yearning -for another _auto-da-fé_. Mayor Blankenberg, unless I am the worst -prophet unhung, will meet with an overwhelming defeat in 1915.[4] And it -will be a very difficult thing to put even a half-decent man in his -place: the victory of the bosses will be so nearly complete that they -will be under no necessity of offering compromises. Employing a favorite -device of political humor, they may select a harmless blank cartridge, a -respectable numskull, what is commonly called a perfumer. But the -chances are that they will select a frank ringster, and that the people -will elect him with cheers. - -Footnote 4: - - This was written in 1914. The overthrow of Blankenberg took place as - forecast, and Philadelphia has since enjoyed boss rule again, with - plentiful scandals.—H. L. M. - - - II - -Such is the ebb and flow of emotion in the popular heart—or perhaps, if -we would be more accurate, the popular liver. It does not constitute an -intelligible system of morality, for morality, at bottom, is not at all -an instinctive matter, but a purely intellectual matter: its essence is -the control of impulse by an ideational process, the subordination of -the immediate desire to the distant aim. But such as it is, it is the -only system of morality that the emotional majority is capable of -comprehending and practicing; and so the newspapers, which deal with -majorities quite as frankly as politicians deal with them, have to admit -it into their own system. That is to say, they cannot accomplish -anything by talking down to the public from a moral plane higher than -its own: they must take careful account of its habitual ways of -thinking, its moral thirsts and prejudices, its well-defined -limitations. They must remember clearly, as judges and lawyers have to -remember it, that the morality subscribed to by that public is far from -the stern and arctic morality of professors of the science. On the -contrary, it is a mellower and more human thing; it has room for the -antithetical emotions of sympathy and scorn; it makes no effort to -separate the criminal from his crime. - -The higher moralities, running up to that of Puritans and archbishops, -allow no weight to custom, to general reputation, to temptation; they -hold it to be no defense of a ballot-box stuffer, for example, that he -had scores of accomplices and that he is kind to his little children. -But the popular morality regards such a defense as sound and apposite; -it is perfectly willing to convert a trial on a specific charge into a -trial on a general charge. And in giving judgment it is always ready to -let feeling triumph over every idea of abstract justice; and very often -that feeling has its origin and support, not in matters actually in -evidence, but in impressions wholly extraneous and irrelevant. - -Hence the need of a careful and wary approach in all newspaper crusades, -particularly on the political side. On the one hand, as I have said, the -astute journalist must remember the public’s incapacity for taking in -more than one thing at a time, and on the other hand, he must remember -its disposition to be swayed by mere feeling, and its habit of founding -that feeling upon general and indefinite impressions. Reduced to a rule -of everyday practice, this means that the campaign against a given -malefactor must begin a good while before the capital accusation—that -is, the accusation upon which a verdict of guilty is sought—is formally -brought forward. There must be a shelling of the fortress before the -assault; suspicion must precede indignation. If this preliminary work is -neglected or ineptly performed, the result is apt to be a collapse of -the campaign. The public is not ready to switch from confidence to doubt -on the instant; if its general attitude toward a man is sympathetic, -that sympathy is likely to survive even a very vigorous attack. The -accomplished mob-master lays his course accordingly. His first aim is to -arouse suspicion, to break down the presumption of innocence—supposing, -of course, that he finds it to exist. He knows that he must plant a -seed, and tend it long and lovingly, before he may pluck his -dragon-flower. He knows that all storms of emotion, however suddenly -they may seem to come up, have their origin over the rim of -consciousness, and that their gathering is really a slow, slow business. -I mix the figures shamelessly, as mob-masters mix their brews! - -It is this persistence of an attitude which gives a certain degree of -immunity to all newcomers in office, even in the face of sharp and -resourceful assault. For example, a new president. The majority in favor -of him on Inauguration Day is usually overwhelming, no matter how small -his plurality in the November preceding, for common self-respect demands -that the people magnify his virtues: to deny them would be a confession -of national failure, a destructive criticism of the Republic. And that -benignant disposition commonly survives until his first year in office -is more than half gone. The public prejudice is wholly on his side: his -critics find it difficult to arouse any indignation against him, even -when the offenses they lay to him are in violation of the fundamental -axioms of popular morality. This explains why it was that Mr. Wilson was -so little damaged by the charge of federal interference in the -Diggs-Caminetti case—a charge well supported by the evidence brought -forward, and involving a serious violation of popular notions of virtue. -And this explains, too, why he survived the oratorical pilgrimages of -his Secretary of State at a time of serious international -difficulty—pilgrimages apparently undertaken with his approval, and -hence at his political risk and cost. The people were still in favor of -him, and so he was not brought to irate and drum-head judgment. No roar -of indignation arose to the heavens. The opposition newspapers, with -sure instinct, felt the irresistible force of public opinion on his -side, and so they ceased their clamor very quickly. - -But it is just such a slow accumulation of pin-pricks, each apparently -harmless in itself, that finally draws blood; it is by just such a -leisurely and insidious process that the presumption of innocence is -destroyed, and a hospitality to suspicion created. The campaign against -Governor Sulzer in New York offers a classic example of this process in -operation, with very skillful gentlemen, journalistic and political, in -control of it. The charges on which Governor Sulzer was finally brought -to impeachment were not launched at him out of a clear sky, nor while -the primary presumption in his favor remained unshaken. Not at all. They -were launched at a carefully selected and critical moment—at the end, to -wit, of a long and well-managed series of minor attacks. The fortress of -his popularity was bombarded a long while before it was assaulted. He -was pursued with insinuations and innuendoes; various persons, more or -less dubious, were led to make various charges, more or less vague, -against him; the managers of the campaign sought to poison the plain -people with doubts, misunderstandings, suspicions. This effort, so -diligently made, was highly successful; and so the capital charges, when -they were brought forward at last, had the effect of confirmations, of -corroborations, of proofs. But if Tammany had made them during the first -few months of Governor Sulzer’s term, while all doubts were yet in his -favor, it would have got only scornful laughter for its pains. The -ground had to be prepared; the public mind had to be put into training. - - -The end of my space is near, and I find that I have written of popular -morality very copiously, and of newspaper morality very little. But, as -I have said before, the one is the other. The newspaper must adapt its -pleading to its clients’ moral limitations, just as the trial lawyer -must adapt _his_ pleading to the jury’s limitations. Neither may like -the job, but both must face it to gain a larger end. And that end, I -believe, is a worthy one in the newspaper’s case quite as often as in -the lawyer’s, and perhaps far oftener. The art of leading the vulgar, in -itself, does no discredit to its practitioner. Lincoln practiced it -unashamed, and so did Webster, Clay, and Henry. What is more, these men -practiced it with frank allowance for the naïveté of the people they -presumed to lead. It was Lincoln’s chief source of strength, indeed, -that he had a homely way with him, that he could reduce complex problems -to the simple terms of popular theory and emotion, that he did not ask -little fishes to think and act like whales. This is the manner in which -the newspapers do their work, and in the long run, I am convinced, they -accomplish about as much good as harm thereby. Dishonesty, of course, is -not unknown among them: we have newspapers in this land which apply a -truly devilish technical skill to the achievement of unsound and -unworthy ends. But not as many of them as perfectionists usually allege. -Taking one with another, they strive in the right direction. They -realize the massive fact that the plain people, for all their poverty of -wit, cannot be fooled forever. They have a healthy fear of that heathen -rage which so often serves their uses. - -Look back a generation or two. Consider the history of our democracy -since the Civil War. Our most serious problems, it must be plain, have -been solved orgiastically, and to the tune of deafening newspaper urging -and clamor. Men have been washed into office on waves of emotion, and -washed out again in the same manner. Measures and policies have been -determined by indignation far more often than by cold reason. But is the -net result evil? Is there even any permanent damage from those debauches -of sentiment in which the newspapers have acted insincerely, -unintelligently, with no thought save for the show itself? I doubt it. -The effect of their long and melodramatic chase of bosses is an -undoubted improvement in our whole governmental method. The boss of -to-day is not an envied first citizen, but a criminal constantly on -trial. He himself is debarred from all public offices of honor, and his -control over other public officers grows less and less. Elections are no -longer boldly stolen; the humblest citizen may go to the polls in safety -and cast his vote honestly; the machine grows less dangerous year by -year; perhaps it is already less dangerous than a _camorra_ of utopian -and dehumanized reformers would be. We begin to develop an official -morality which actually rises above our private morality. Bribe-takers -are sent to jail by the votes of jurymen who give presents in their -daily business, and are not above beating the street-car company. - -And so, too, in narrower fields. The white-slave agitation of a year or -so ago was ludicrously extravagant and emotional, but its net effect is -a better conscience, a new alertness. The newspapers discharged -broadsides of 12–inch guns to bring down a flock of buzzards—but they -brought down the buzzards. They have libeled and lynched the police—but -the police are the better for it. They have represented salicylic acid -as an elder brother to bichloride of mercury—but we are poisoned less -than we used to be. They have lifted the plain people to frenzies of -senseless terror over drinking-cups and neighbors with coughs—but the -death-rate from tuberculosis declines. They have railroaded men to -prison, denying them all their common rights—but fewer malefactors -escape to-day than yesterday. - -The way of ethical progress is not straight. It describes, to risk a -mathematical pun, a sort of drunken hyperbola. But if we thus move -onward and upward by leaps and bounces, it is certainly better than not -moving at all. Each time, perhaps, we slip back, but each time we stop -at a higher level. - - - - - NEWSPAPER MORALS: A REPLY - - BY RALPH PULITZER - -The striking article in the March _Atlantic_ by Mr. Henry L. Mencken, on -“Newspaper Morals,” is so full of palpable facts supporting plausible -fallacies that simple justice to press and “proletariat” seems to render -proper a few thoughts in answer to it. - -Mr. Mencken’s main facts, summarized, are as follows: that press and -public often approach public questions too superficially and -sentimentally; that the sense of proportion is too often lost in the -heat of campaigns; that the truth is too often obscured by the intrusion -of irrelevant personalities; and that after the intemperate extremes of -reform waves there always come reactions into indifference to the evils -but yesterday so furiously fought. - -Mr. Mencken’s fallacies are: the supercilious assumption that these -weaknesses are not matters of human temperament running up and down -through a certain proportion of every division of society, but that, on -the contrary, they are class affairs, never tainting the educated -classes, but limited to “the man in the street,” “the rabble,” “the -mob”; that apparently the emotionalizing of public questions by the -press is to be censured in principle and sneered at in practice; that it -means a deliberate truckling by the newspapers to the ignorant tastes of -the masses when the press fights a public evil by attacking, with -argument and indignation mingled, a man who personifies that evil, -instead of opposing the general principle of that evil with a wholly -passionless intellectualism. - -A general fallacy which affects Mr. Mencken’s whole article lies in -criticising as offenses against “newspaper morals” those imperfections -which, where they exist at all, could properly be criticised only under -such criteria as suggested by “Newspaper Intellectuals,” or “Newspapers -as the Exponents of Pure Reason.” - -Mr. Mencken first exposes and deprecates the “aim” of the newspapers to -“knock somebody on the head every day,” “to please the crowd, to give a -good show, by first selecting a deserving victim and then putting him -magnificently to the torture,” and even to fight “constructive campaigns -for good government in exactly the same gothic, melodramatic way.” - -Now “muck-raking” rather than incense-burning is not a deliberate aim so -much as a spontaneous instinct of the average newspaper. Nor is there -anything either mysterious or reprehensible about this. The public, of -all degrees, is more interested in hitting Wrong than in praising Right, -because fortunately we are still in an optimistic state of society, -where Right is taken for granted and Wrong contains the element of the -unusual and abnormal. If the day shall ever come when papers will be -able to “expose” Right and regard Wrong as a foregone conclusion, they -will doubtless quickly reverse their treatment of the two. In an Ali -Baba’s cave it might be natural for a paper to discover some man’s -honesty; in a _yoshiwara_ it might be reasonable for it to expatiate on -some woman’s virtue. But while honesty and virtue and rightness are -assumed to be the normal condition of men and women and things in -general, it does not seem either extraordinary or culpable that people -and press should be more interested in the polemical than in the -platitudinous; in blame than in painting the lily; in attack than in -sending laudatory coals to Newcastle. It scarcely needs remark, however, -that when the element of surprise is introduced by some deed of -exceptional heroism or abnegation or inspiration, the newspapers are not -slow in giving it publicity and praise. - -Mr. Mencken finds it deplorable that “a very definite limit is set, not -only upon the people’s capacity for grasping intellectual concepts, but -also upon their capacity for grasping moral concepts”; that, therefore, -it is necessary “to visualize their cause in some definite and defiant -opponent ... by translating all arguments for a principle into rage -against a man.” Far be it from me to deny that people and papers are too -prone to get diverted from the pursuit of some principle by acrimonious -personalities wholly ungermane to that principle. But the protest -against this should not lead to unfair extremes in the opposite -direction. If Mr. Mencken’s ideal is a nation of philosophers calmly -agreeing on the abstract desirability of honesty while serenely ignoring -the specific picking of their own pockets, we have no ground for -argument. But until we reach such a semi-imbecile Utopia, it would seem -to be no reflection on “the people’s” intellectual or moral concepts -that they should refuse to excite themselves over any theoretical wrong -until their attention is focused on some practical manifestation of it, -in the concrete acts of some specific individual. - -May I add, parenthetically, that some papers and many acutely -intellectual gentlemen find it far more convenient and comfortable to -generalize virtuously than to particularize virtuously? Nor does it -require merely moral or physical courage to reduce the safely general to -the disagreeably personal. It requires no despicable amount of -intellectual acumen as well. - -Mr. Mencken next proceeds to “assume here, as an axiom too obvious to be -argued, that the chief appeal of a newspaper in all such holy causes is -not at all to the educated and reflective minority of citizens, but to -the ignorant and unreflective majority.” On the contrary, it is very far -from being “too obvious to be argued.” A great many persons of -guaranteed education are sadly destitute of any reflectiveness -whatsoever, while an appalling number of “the ignorant” have the -effrontery to be able to reflect very efficiently. This is apart from -the fact that the general intelligence among many of the ignorant is -matched only by the abysmal stupidity of many of the educated. - -Thus it is that the decent paper makes its appeal on public questions to -the numerically large body of reflective “ignorance” and to the -numerically small body of reflective education, leaving it to the -demagogic papers, which are the exception at one end, to inflame the -unreflective ignorant, and to the sycophantic papers at the other end to -pander to the unreflective educated. - -As to Mr. Mencken’s charge that he knows of “no subject, save perhaps -baseball, on which the average American newspaper discourses with -unfailing sense and understanding,” I know of no subject at all, even -including baseball, on which the most exceptionally gifted man in the -world discourses with unfailing sense and understanding. But I do know -this: that, considering the immense range of subjects which the American -paper is called upon to discuss, and its meagre limits of time in which -to prepare for such discussion, the failings of that paper in sense and -understanding are probably rarer than would be those under the same -conditions of Mr. Mencken’s most fastidious selection. - -“But,” Mr. Mencken continues, “whenever the public journals presume to -illuminate such a matter as municipal taxation, for example, or the -extension of local transportation facilities, or the punishment of -public or private criminals, or the control of public-service -corporations, or the revision of city charters, the chief effect of -their effort is to introduce into it a host of extraneous issues, most -of them wholly emotional, and so they continue to make it unintelligible -to all earnest seekers after truth.” Here again it is all a matter of -point of view. If Mr. Mencken’s earnest seekers after truth wish to -evolve ideological schemes of municipal taxation, or supramundane -extensions of transportation facilities, or transcendental control of -public-service corporations, or academic revisions of city charters, -then, indeed, the newspaper discussions of these questions would be -bewildering to these visionary workers in the realms of pure reason. For -the newspapers “presume” to regard these questions, not as theoretical -problems, to be solved under theoretical conditions, on theoretical -populations, to theoretical perfection, but as workable projects for a -workaday world, in which the most beautiful abstract reasoning must -stand the test of flesh-and-blood conditions; they regard emotional -issues as so far, indeed, from being extraneous that the human nature of -the humblest men and women must be weighed in the balance against the -nicest syllogisms of the precisest logic. And this is nothing that Mr. -Mencken need condescend to apologize for so long as “newspaper morals” -are under discussion. For it must be obvious that the honest exposition -and analysis of public questions from a human as well as a scientific -point of view is a higher moral service to the community than an -exclusively scientific, wholly unsympathetic search after truth by those -who regard populations as mere subjects for the demonstration of -principles. - -It is precisely the honorable prerogative of newspapers not only to -clarify but to vivify, to galvanize dead hypotheses into living -questions, to make the educated and the ignorant alike feel that public -questions should interest and stir all good citizens and not merely -engross social philosophers and political theorists. - -But here let me avoid joining Mr. Mencken in the pitfall of -generalizations, by drawing a sharp distinction between the great run of -decent papers which do honestly emotionalize public questions and the -relatively few papers which unscrupulously _hystericalize_ these -questions. - -Mr. Mencken is entirely correct when he admits that this emotionalizing -brings these problems down to a “man’s comprehension, and, what is more -important, within the range of his active sympathies.” But he again -shows a very unfortunate class arrogance when he identifies this man as -“the man in the street.” If Mr. Mencken searched earnestly enough after -truth, he would find this man to be about as extensively the man at the -ticker, the man in the motor-car, the man at the operating table, the -man in the pulpit. In the same vein he continues that the only papers -which discuss good government unemotionally “are diligently avoided by -the _mob_.” If Mr. Mencken only included with his proletariat the mob of -stockbrokers and doctors and engineers and lawyers and college graduates -generally, who refuse to read these logical and unemotional discussions, -he would unfortunately be quite right. It would be a beautiful thing -indeed if we had with us to-day one hundred millions of “earnest seekers -after truth,” all busily engaged in discussing “good government in the -abstract,” “logically and unemotionally.” If they were only thus -dispassionately busied, it is quite true that things would not be as at -present, when “they are always ready for a man hunt and their favorite -quarry is a man of politics. If no such prey is at hand, they will turn -to wealthy debauchees, to fallen Sunday-school superintendents, to money -barons, to white-slave traders.” In those halcyon times the one hundred -million calm abstractionists would discuss the influence of Beaumont and -Fletcher on bosses, or, failing this, the ultimate effect of wealth on -eroticism, the obscure relations between proselyting and decadence, or -the effect of the white-slave traffic on the gold reserve. - -But in our present unregenerate epoch Mr. Mencken is quite right in -holding that it is generally the specific evils of government or society -which bring about reform waves, which in turn crystallize themselves -into general principles. It is a shockingly practical process, I admit; -but then, we are a shockingly practical people, who prefer sordid -results to inspired theories. And at that we are not in such bad -company. For in no country in the world is there such a thing as a -“revealed” civilization. On the contrary, civilization has always been -for the most part purely empirical, and progress will ever remain so. - -There is, therefore, cause not for shame but for pride when a newspaper -reveals some specific iniquity, and by not merely expounding its -isolated character to the public intelligence, but also by interpreting -its general menace to the public imagination and bringing home its -inherent evil to the public conscience, arouses that public to social -legislation, criminal prosecution, or political reform. - -Mr. Mencken next assaults once more his unfortunate “man in the street” -by declaring that “it is always as a game, of course, that the man in -the street views moral endeavor.... His interest in it is almost always -a sporting interest.” On the contrary, here at last we have a case where -a class distinction can fairly be drawn. “The man in the street” is a -naïve man who takes his melodrama seriously, who believes robustly in -blacks and whites without subtilizing them into intermediate shades, for -whom villains and heroes really exist. He is the last person on earth to -view the moral endeavor of a political or social campaign as a game. It -is the supercilious class, with its sophistication and attendant -cynicism, to whom such campaigns tend to take on the aspect of sporting -events and games of skill. - -But it is not necessary to go into the details of Mr. Mencken’s theory -as to the depraved nature of popular participation in political reform. -Its gist is contained in his truly shocking statement that the war on -the Tweed ring and its extirpation was to the “plain people” nothing but -“sport royal”! Any one who can take one of the most inspiring civic -victories in the history, not alone of a city, but of a nation, and -degrade the spirit that brought it about to the level of the cockpit or -the bull ring, supplies an argument that needs no reinforcing against -his prejudices on this whole subject. - -Mr. Mencken justly deplores the reactions which follow upon reform -successes, but unjustly concentrates the blame on the fickleness of “the -rabble.” This evil is not a matter of mob-psychology but of unstable -human nature, high and low. These revulsions and reactions are the -shame, impartially, of all classes of our communities. They permeate the -educated atmosphere of fastidious clubs as extensively as they do the -ignorant miasma of vulgar saloons. If they induce the “ignorant and -unreflective” plebeian to sit in his shirt-sleeves with his legs up, -resting his feet, on election day, instead of doing his duty at the -polls, do they not equally congest the golf links with “earnest seekers -after truth” busily engaged in sacrificing ballots to Bogeys? - -I wholly agree with Mr. Mencken’s strictures on the public morality -which holds it to be a relevant defense for a ballot-box stuffer “that -he is kind to his little children.” The sentimentalism which so -frequently perverts a proper public conception of public morality is -sickening. But here again the indictment should be against average human -nature, educated or ignorant, and not against the “man in the street” as -a class and alone. To this man the fact that the ballot-box stuffer is -kind to his little children may carry more weight than to the man of -education and culture. To the latter the fact that some -monopoly-breeding, law-defying, legislation-bribing, railroad-wrecking -gentleman is kind to his fellow citizens by donating to them picture -galleries and free libraries may carry more weight than to the former. -Is not the one just as much as the other “ready to let feeling triumph -over every idea of abstract justice”? - -Again, with Mr. Mencken’s prescription for making a successful newspaper -crusade there can be no quarrel, save that here once more he suggests, -by referring to the newspaper as a “mob-master,” that these methods are -exclusively applicable to the same long-suffering “man in the street.” -These methods on which Mr. Mencken elaborates are the rather obvious -ones used by every lawyer, clergyman, statesman, or publicist the world -over who has a forensic fight to make and win against some public -evil—accusation, iteration, cumulation, and climax. If these methods are -used by “mob-masters,” they are equally used by snob-servants, and -incidentally by the great mass of honest newspapers which are neither -the one thing nor the other. - -At the end of his article, having set up a man of straw which he found -it impossible to knock down, Mr. Mencken patronizingly pats it on the -back:— - -“The newspaper must adapt its pleading to its client’s moral -limitations, just as the trial lawyer must adapt his pleading to the -jury’s limitations. Neither may like the job, but both must face it to -gain a larger end. And that end is a worthy one in the newspaper’s case -quite as often as in the lawyer’s, and perhaps far oftener. The art of -leading the vulgar in itself does no discredit to its practitioner. -Lincoln practised it unashamed, and so did Webster, Clay, and Henry.” - -Alas for this well-intentioned effort at amends! It is impossible to -agree with Mr. Mencken even here when he praises press and public with -such faint damnation. - -A decent newspaper does not and must not adapt its pleadings to its -clients’ moral limitations. Intellectual limitations? Yes. It is -restricted by a line beyond which intelligence and education alike would -be at sea, and which only specialists and experts would understand. But -moral limitations? No. The paper in this regard is less like the lawyer -and more like the judge. A judge can properly adapt his charge in -simplicity of form to the intellectual limitations of the jury, but it -will scarcely be contended that he may adapt his charge in its substance -to the moral limitations of the jury. No more can any self-respecting -paper palter with what it believes to be the right and the truth because -of any moral limitations in its constituency. Demagogic papers may do -it. Class-catering papers may do it. But the decent press which lies -between does not thus stultify itself. - -And now to Mr. Mencken’s condescending conclusion:— - -“Our most serious problems, it must be plain, have been solved -orgiastically and to the tune of deafening newspaper urging and -clamor.... But is the net result evil?... I doubt it.... The way of -ethical progress is not straight.... But if we thus move onward and -upward by leaps and bounces, it is certainly better than not moving at -all. Each time, perhaps, we slip back, but each time we stop at a higher -level.” - -Why, then, sweepingly reflect on the morals of the press, if by -humanizing abstract principles, by emotionalizing academic doctrines, by -personifying general theories, it has accomplished this progress? -Granted that in the heat of battle it fails to handle the cold -conceptions of austere philosophers with proper scientific etiquette. -Granted that it makes blunders in technical statements which to the -preciosity of specialists seem inexcusable. Granted that it mixes its -science and its sentiment in a manner to shock the gentlemen of -disembodied intellects. Granted that the press has many more such -intellectual peccadilloes on its conscience. - -But if the press does these things honestly, it does them morally, and -does not need to excuse them by their results, even though these results -are in very truth infinitely more precious to humanity than could be -those obtained by the chill endeavors of what Mr. Mencken himself, with -the perfect accuracy of would-be irony, describes as “a Camorra of -Utopian and dehumanized reformers.” - - - - - THE SUPPRESSION OF IMPORTANT NEWS - - BY EDWARD ALSWORTH ROSS - - - I - -Most of the criticism launched at our daily newspapers hits the wrong -party. Granted that they sensationalize vice and crime, “play up” -trivialities, exploit the private affairs of prominent people, embroider -facts, and offend good taste with screech, blare, and color. All this -may be only the means of meeting the demand, of “giving the public what -it wants.” The newspaper cannot be expected to remain dignified and -serious now that it caters to the common millions, instead of, as -formerly, to the professional and business classes. To interest -errand-boy and factory-girl and raw immigrant, it had to become spicy, -amusing, emotional, and chromatic. For these, blame, then, the American -people. - -There is just one deadly, damning count against the daily newspaper as -it is coming to be, namely, _it does not give the news_. - -For all its pretensions, many a daily newspaper is not “giving the -public what it wants.” In spite of these widely trumpeted prodigies of -costly journalistic “enterprise,” these ferreting reporters and hurrying -correspondents, these leased cables and special trains, news, good -“live” news, “red-hot stuff,” is deliberately being suppressed or -distorted. This occurs oftener now than formerly, and bids fair to occur -yet oftener in the future. - -And this in spite of the fact that the aspiration of the press has been -upward. Venality has waned. Better and better men have been drawn into -journalism, and they have wrought under more self-restraint. The time -when it could be said, as it was said of the Reverend Dr. Dodd, that one -had “descended so low as to become editor of a newspaper,” seems as -remote as the Ice Age. The editor who uses his paper to air his -prejudices, satisfy his grudges, and serve his private ambitions, is -going out. Sobered by a growing realization of their social function, -newspaper men have come under a sense of responsibility. Not long ago it -seemed as if a professional spirit and a professional ethics were about -to inspire the newspaper world; and to this end courses and schools of -journalism were established, with high hopes. The arrest of this -promising movement explains why nine out of ten newspaper men of fifteen -years’ experience are cynics. - -As usual, no one is to blame. The apostasy of the daily press is caused -by three economic developments in the field of newspaper publishing. - - - II - -In the first place, the great city daily has become a blanket sheet with -elaborate presswork, printed in mammoth editions that must be turned out -in the least time. The necessary plant is so costly, and the Associated -Press franchise is so expensive, that the daily newspaper in the big -city has become a capitalistic enterprise. To-day a million dollars will -not begin to outfit a metropolitan newspaper. The editor is no longer -the owner, for he has not, and cannot command, the capital needed to -start it or buy it. The editor of the type of Greeley, Dana, Medill, -Story, Halstead, and Raymond, who owns his paper and makes it his astral -body, the projection of his character and ideals, is rare. Perhaps Mr. -Watterson and Mr. Nelson [the late William R. Nelson of the _Kansas City -Star_] are the best recent representatives of the type. - -More and more the owner of the big daily is a business man who finds it -hard to see why he should run his property on different lines from the -hotel proprietor, the vaudeville manager, or the owner of an amusement -park. The editors are hired men, and they may put into the paper no more -of their conscience and ideals than comports with getting the biggest -return from the investment. Of course, the old-time editor who owned his -paper tried to make money,—no sin that!—but just as to-day the author, -the lecturer, or the scholar tries to make money, namely, within the -limitations imposed by his principles and his professional standards. -But, now that the provider of the newspaper capital hires the editor -instead of the editor hiring the newspaper capital, the paper is -likelier to be run as a money-maker pure and simple—a factory where ink -and brains are so applied to white paper as to turn out the largest -possible marketable product. The capitalist-owner means no harm, but he -is not bothered by the standards that hamper the editor-owner. He -follows a few simple maxims that work out well enough in selling shoes -or cigars or sheet-music. “Give people what _they_ want, not what _you_ -want.” “Back nothing that will be unpopular.” “Run the concern for all -it is worth.” - -This drifting of ultimate control into the hands of men with business -motives is what is known as “the commercialization of the press.” - -The significance of it is apparent when you consider the second economic -development, namely, the growth of newspaper advertising. The -dissemination of news and the purveying of publicity are two essentially -distinct functions, which, for the sake of convenience, are carried on -by the same agency. The one appeals to subscribers, the other to -advertisers. The one calls for good faith, the other does not. The one -is the corner-stone of liberty and democracy, the other a convenience of -commerce. Now, the purveying of publicity is becoming the main concern -of the newspaper, and threatens to throw quite into the shade the -communication of news or opinions. Every year the sale of advertising -yields a larger proportion of the total receipts, and the subscribers -furnish a smaller proportion. Thirty years ago, advertising yielded less -than half of the earnings of the daily newspapers. To-day, it yields at -least two thirds. In the larger dailies the receipts from advertisers -are several times the receipts from the readers, in some cases -constituting ninety per cent of the total revenues. As the newspaper -expands to eight, twelve, and sixteen pages, while the price sinks to -three cents, two cents, one cent, the time comes when the advertisers -support the newspaper. The readers are there to _read_, not to provide -funds. “He who pays the piper calls the tune.” When news columns and -editorial page are a mere incident in the profitable sale of mercantile -publicity, it is strictly “businesslike” to let the big advertisers -censor both. - -Of course, you must not let the cat out of the bag, or you will lose -readers, and thereupon advertising. As the publicity expert, Deweese, -frankly puts it, “The reader must be flimflammed with the idea that the -publisher is really publishing the newspaper or magazine for him.” The -wise owner will “maintain the beautiful and impressive bluff of running -a journal to influence public opinion, to purify politics, to elevate -public morals, etc.” In the last analysis, then, the smothering of facts -in deference to the advertiser finds a limit in the intelligence and -alertness of the reading public. Handled as “a commercial proposition,” -the newspaper dares not suppress such news beyond a certain point, and -it can always proudly point to the unsuppressed news as proof of its -independence and public spirit. - -The immunity enjoyed by the big advertiser becomes more serious as more -kinds of business resort to advertising. Formerly, readers who -understood why accidents and labor troubles never occur in department -stores, why dramatic criticisms are so lenient, and the reviews of books -from the publishers who advertise are so good-natured, could still -expect from their journal an ungloved freedom in dealing with gas, -electric, railroad, and banking companies. But now the gas people -advertise, “Cook with gas,” the electric people urge you to put your -sewing-machine on their current, and the railroads spill oceans of ink -to attract settlers or tourists. The banks and trust companies are -buyers of space, investment advertising has sprung up like Jonah’s -gourd, and telephone and traction companies are being drawn into the -vortex of competitive publicity. Presently, in the news-columns of the -sheet that steers by the cash-register, every concern that has favors to -seek, duties to dodge, or regulations to evade, will be able to press -the soft pedal. - -A third development is the subordination of newspapers to other -enterprises. After a newspaper becomes a piece of paying property, -detachable from the editor’s personality, which may be bought and sold -like a hotel or mill, it may come into the hands of those who will hold -it in bondage to other and bigger investments. The magnate-owner may -find it to his advantage not to run it as a newspaper pure and simple, -but to make it—on the sly—an instrument for coloring certain kinds of -news, diffusing certain misinformation, or fostering certain impressions -or prejudices in its clientele. In a word, he may shape its policy by -non-journalistic considerations. By making his paper help his other -schemes, or further his political or social ambitions, he will hurt it -as a money-maker, no doubt, but he may contrive to fool enough of the -people enough of the time. Aside from such thraldom, newspapers are -subject to the tendency of diverse businesses to become tied together by -the cross-investments of their owners. But naturally, when the shares of -a newspaper lie in the safe-deposit box cheek by jowl with gas, -telephone, and pipeline stock, a tenderness for these collateral -interests is likely to affect the news columns. - - - III - -That in consequence of its commercialization, and its frequent -subjection to outside interests, the daily newspaper is constantly -suppressing important news, will appear from the instances that follow. -They are hardly a third of the material that has come to the writer’s -attention. - -A prominent Philadelphia clothier visiting New York was caught -perverting boys, and cut his throat. His firm being a heavy advertiser, -not a single paper in his home city mentioned the tragedy. One New York -paper took advantage of the situation by sending over an extra edition -containing the story. The firm in question has a large branch in a -Western city. There too the local press was silent, and the opening was -seized by a Chicago paper. - -In this same Western city the vice-president of this firm was indicted -for bribing an alderman to secure the passage of an ordinance -authorizing the firm to bridge an alley separating two of its buildings. -Representatives of the firm requested the newspapers in which it -advertised to ignore the trial. Accordingly the five English papers -published no account of the trial, which lasted a week and disclosed -highly sensational matter. Only the German papers sent reporters to the -trial and published the proceedings. - -In a great jobbing centre, one of the most prominent cases of the United -States District Attorney was the prosecution of certain firms for -misbranding goods. The facts brought out appeared in the press of the -smaller centres, but not a word was printed in the local papers. In -another centre, four firms were fined for selling potted cheese which -had been treated with preservatives. The local newspapers stated the -facts, but withheld the names of the firms—a consideration they are not -likely to show to the ordinary culprit. - -In a trial in a great city it was brought out by sworn testimony that, -during a recent labor struggle which involved teamsters on the one hand -and the department stores and the mail-order houses on the other, the -employers had plotted to provoke the strikers to violence by sending a -long line of strike-breaking wagons out of their way to pass a lot on -which the strikers were meeting. These wagons were the bait to a trap, -for a strong force of policemen was held in readiness in the vicinity, -and the governor of the state was at the telephone ready to call out the -militia if a riot broke out. Fortunately, the strikers restrained -themselves, and the trap was not sprung. It is easy to imagine the -headlines that would have been used if labor had been found in so -diabolical a plot. Yet the newspapers unanimously refused to print this -testimony. - -In the same city, during a strike of the elevator men in the large -stores, the business agent of the elevator-starters’ union was beaten to -death, in an alley behind a certain emporium, by a “strong-arm” man -hired by that firm. The story, supported by affidavits, was given by a -responsible lawyer to three newspaper men, each of whom accepted it as -true and promised to print it. The account never appeared. - -In another city the sales-girls in the big shops had to sign an -exceedingly mean and oppressive contract which, if generally known, -would have made the firms odious to the public. A prominent social -worker carried these contracts, and evidence as to the bad conditions -that had become established under them, to every newspaper in the city. -Not one would print a line on the subject. - -On the outbreak of a justifiable street-car strike the newspapers were -disposed to treat it in a sympathetic way. Suddenly they veered, and -became unanimously hostile to the strikers. Inquiry showed that the big -merchants had threatened to withdraw their advertisements unless the -newspapers changed their attitude. - -In the summer of 1908 disastrous fires raged in the northern Lake -country, and great areas of standing timber were destroyed. A prominent -organ of the lumber industry belittled the losses and printed reassuring -statements from lumbermen who were at the very moment calling upon the -state for a fire patrol. When taxed with the deceit, the organ pleaded -its obligation to support the market for the bonds which the lumber -companies of the Lake region had been advertising in its columns. - -On account of agitating for teachers’ pensions, a teacher was summarily -dismissed by a corrupt school board, in violation of their own published -rule regarding tenure. An influential newspaper published the facts of -school-board grafting brought out in the teacher’s suit for -reinstatement until, through his club affiliations, a big merchant was -induced to threaten the paper with the withdrawal of his advertising. No -further reports of the revelations appeared. - -During labor disputes the facts are usually distorted to the injury of -labor. In one case, strikers held a meeting on a vacant lot enclosed by -a newly-erected billboard. Forthwith appeared, in a yellow journal -professing warm friendship for labor, a front-page cut of the billboard -and a lurid story of how the strikers had built a “stockade,” behind -which they intended to bid defiance to the bluecoats. It is not -surprising that, when the van bringing these lying sheets appeared in -their quarter of the city, the libeled men overturned it. - -During the struggle of carriage-drivers for a six-day week, certain -great dailies lent themselves to a concerted effort of the liverymen to -win public sympathy by making it appear that the strikers were -interfering with funerals. One paper falsely stated that a strong force -of police was being held in reserve in case of “riots,” and that -policemen would ride beside the non-union drivers of hearses. Another, -under the misleading headline, “Two Funerals stopped by Striking -Cabmen,” described harmless colloquies between hearse-drivers and -pickets. This was followed up with a solemn editorial, “May a Man go to -his Long Rest in Peace?” although, as a matter of fact, the strikers had -no intention of interfering with funerals. - -The lying headline is a favorite device for misleading the reader. One -sheet prints on its front page a huge “scare” headline, “‘Hang Haywood -and a Million Men will march in Revenge,’ says Darrow.” The few readers -whose glance fell from the incendiary headline to the dispatch below it -found only the following: “Mr. Darrow, in closing the argument, said -that ‘if the jury hangs Bill Haywood, one million willing hands will -seize the banner of liberty by the open grave, and bear it on to -victory.’” In the same style, a dispatch telling of the death of an -English policeman, from injuries received during a riot precipitated by -suffragettes attempting to enter a hall during a political meeting, is -headed, “Suffragettes kill Policeman!” - -The alacrity with which many dailies serve as mouthpieces of the -financial powers came out very clearly during the recent industrial -depression. The owner of one leading newspaper called his reporters -together and said in effect, “Boys, the first of you who turns in a -story of a lay-off or a shut-down gets the sack.” Early in the -depression the newspapers teemed with glowing accounts of the resumption -of steel mills and the revival of business, all baseless. After harvest -time they began to cheep, “Prosperity,” “Bumper Crops,” “Farmers buying -Automobiles.” In cities where banks and employers offered clearing-house -certificates instead of cash, the press usually printed fairy tales of -the enthusiasm with which these makeshifts were taken by depositors and -workingmen. The numbers and sufferings of the unemployed were ruthlessly -concealed from the reading public. A mass meeting of men out of work was -represented as “anarchistic” or “instigated by the socialists for -political effect.” In one daily appeared a dispatch under the heading -“Five Thousand Jobs Offered; only Ten apply.” It stated that the -Commissioner of Public Works of Detroit, misled by reports of dire -distress, set afoot a public work which called for five thousand men. -Only ten men applied for work, and all these expected to be bosses. -Correspondence with the official established the fact that the number of -jobs offered was five hundred, and that three thousand men applied for -them! - - - IV - -On the desk of every editor and sub-editor of a newspaper run by a -capitalist promoter now [1910] under prison sentence lay a list of -sixteen corporations in which the owner was interested. This was to -remind them not to print anything damaging to these concerns. In the -office these corporations were jocularly referred to as “sacred cows.” - -Nearly every form of privilege is found in the herd of “sacred cows” -venerated by the daily press. - -The railroad company is a “sacred cow.” At a hearing before a state -railroad commission, the attorney of a shippers’ association got an -eminent magnate into the witness chair, with the intention of wringing -from him the truth regarding the political expenditures of his railroad. -At this point the commission, an abject creature of the railroads, -arbitrarily excluded the daring attorney from the case. The memorable -excoriation which that attorney gave the commission to its face was made -to appear in the papers as the _cause_ instead of the _consequence_ of -this exclusion. Subsequently, when the attorney filed charges with the -governor against the commission, one editor wrote an editorial stating -the facts and criticising the commissioners. The editorial was -suppressed after it was in type. - -The public-service company is a “sacred cow.” In a city of the -Southwest, last summer [1909], while houses were burning from lack of -water for the fire hose, a lumber company offered to supply the firemen -with water. The water company replied that they had “sufficient.” -Neither this nor other damaging information concerning the company’s -conduct got into the columns of the local press. A yellow journal -conspicuous in the fight for cheaper gas by its ferocious onslaughts on -the “gas trust,” suddenly ceased its attack. Soon it began to carry a -full-page “Cook with gas” advertisement. The cow had found the entrance -to the sacred fold. - -Traction is a “sacred cow.” The truth about Cleveland’s fight for the -three-cent fare has been widely suppressed. For instance, while Mayor -Johnson was superintending the removal of the tracks of a defunct street -railway, he was served with a court order enjoining him from tearing up -the rails. As the injunction was not indorsed, as by law it should be, -he thought it was an ordinary communication, and put it in his pocket to -examine later. The next day he was summoned to show reason why he should -not be found in contempt of court. When the facts came out, he was, of -course, discharged. An examination of the seven leading dailies of the -country shows that a dispatch was sent out from Cleveland stating that -Mayor Johnson, after acknowledging service, pocketed the injunction, and -ordered his men to proceed with their work. In the newspaper offices -this dispatch was then embroidered. One paper said the mayor told his -men to go ahead and ignore the injunction. Another had the mayor -intimating in advance that he would not obey an order if one were -issued. A third invented a conversation in which the mayor and his -superintendent made merry over the injunction. Not one of the seven -journals reported the mayor’s complete exoneration later. - -The tax system is a “sacred cow.” During a banquet of two hundred -single-taxers, at the conclusion of their state conference, a man fell -in a fit. Reporters saw the trifling incident, yet the morning papers, -under big headlines, “Many Poisoned at Single-Tax Banquet,” told in -detail how a large number of banqueters had been ptomaine-poisoned. The -conference had formulated a single-tax amendment to the state -constitution, which they intended to present to the people for signature -under the new Initiative law. One paper gave a line and a half to this -most significant action. No other paper noticed it. - -The party system is a “sacred cow.” When a county district court -declared that the Initiative and Referendum amendment to the Oregon -constitution was invalid, the item was spread broadcast. But when later -the Supreme Court of Oregon reversed that decision, the fact was too -trivial to be put on the wires. - -The “man higher up” is a “sacred cow.” In reporting Prosecutor Heney’s -argument in the Calhoun case, the leading San Francisco paper omitted -everything on the guilt of Calhoun and made conspicuous certain -statements of Mr. Heney with reference to himself, with intent to make -it appear that his argument was but a vindication of himself, and that -he made no points against the accused. The argument for the defense was -printed in full, the “points” being neatly displayed in large type at -proper intervals. At a crisis in this prosecution a Washington dispatch -quoted the chairman of the Appropriations Committee as stating in the -House that “Mr. Heney received during 1908 $23,000, for which he -performed no service whatever for the Government.” It was some hours -before the report was corrected by adding Mr. Tawney’s concluding words, -“during that year.” - -In view of their suppression and misrepresentation of vital truth, the -big daily papers, broadly speaking, must be counted as allies of those -whom—as Editor Dana reverently put it—“God has endowed with a genius for -saving, for getting rich, for bringing wealth together, for accumulating -and concentrating money.” In rallying to the side of the people they are -slower than the weeklies, the magazines, the pulpit, the platform, the -bar, the literati, the intellectuals, the social settlements, and the -universities. - -Now and then, to be sure, in some betrayed and misgoverned city, a man -of force takes some little sheet, prints all the news, ventilates the -local situation, arouses the community, builds up a huge circulation, -and proves that truth-telling still pays. But such exploits do not -counteract the economic developments which have brought on the glacial -epoch in journalism. Note what happens later to such a newspaper. It is -now a valuable property, and as such it will be treated. The editor need -not repeat the bold strokes that won public confidence; he has only to -avoid anything that would forfeit it. Unconsciously he becomes, perhaps, -less a newspaper man, more a business man. He may make investments which -muzzle his paper here, form social connections which silence it there. -He may tire of fighting and want to “cash in.” In any case, when his -newspaper falls into the hands of others, it will be run as a business, -and not as a crusade. - - - V - -What can be done about the suppression of news? At least, we can refrain -from arraigning and preaching. To urge the editor, under the thumb of -the advertiser or of the owner, to be more independent, is to invite him -to remove himself from his profession. As for the capitalist-owner, to -exhort him to run his newspaper in the interests of truth and progress -is about as reasonable as to exhort the mill-owner to work his property -for the public good instead of for his private benefit. - -What is needed is a broad new avenue to the public mind. Already -smothered facts are cutting little channels for themselves. The immense -vogue of the “muck-raking” magazines is due to their being vehicles for -suppressed news. Non-partisan leaders are meeting with cheering response -when they found weeklies in order to reach their natural following. The -Socialist Party supports two dailies, less to spread their ideas than to -print what the capitalistic dailies would stifle. Civic associations, -municipal voters’ leagues, and legislative voters’ leagues, are -circulating tons of leaflets and bulletins full of suppressed facts. -Within a year [1909–10] five cities have, with the tax-payers’ money, -started journals to acquaint the citizens with municipal happenings and -affairs. In many cities have sprung up private non-partisan weeklies to -report civic information. Moreover, the spoken word is once more a -power. The demand for lecturers and speakers is insatiable, and the -platform bids fair to recover its old prestige. The smotherers are -dismayed by the growth of the Chautauqua circuit. Congressional speeches -give vent to boycotted truth, and circulate widely under the franking -privilege. City clubs and Saturday lunch clubs are formed to listen to -facts and ideas tabooed by the daily press. More is made of public -hearings before committees of councilmen or legislators. - -When all is said, however, the defection of the daily press has been a -staggering blow to democracy. - -Many insist that the public is able to recognize and pay for the truth. -“Trust the public” and _in the end_ merit will be rewarded. Time and -again men have sunk money in starting an honest and outspoken sheet, -confident that soon the public would rally to its support. But such -hopes are doomed to disappointment. The editor who turns away bad -advertising or defies his big patrons cannot lay his copy on the -subscriber’s doorstep for as little money as the editor who purveys -publicity for all it is worth; and the masses will not pay three cents -when another paper that “looks just as good” can be had for a cent. In a -word, the art of simulating honesty and independence has outrun the -insight of the average reader. - -To conclude that the people are not able to recognize and pay for the -truth about current happenings simply puts the dissemination of news in -a class with other momentous social services. Because people fail to -recognize and pay for good books, endowed libraries stud the land. -Because they fail to recognize and pay for good instruction, education -is provided free or at part cost. Just as the moment came when it was -seen that private schools, loan libraries, commercial parks, baths, -gymnasia, athletic grounds, and playgrounds would not answer, so the -moment is here for recognizing that the commercial news-medium does not -adequately meet the needs of democratic citizenship. - -Endowment is necessary, and, since we are not yet wise enough to run a -public-owned daily newspaper, the funds must come from private sources. -In view of the fact that in fifteen years large donations aggregating -more than a thousand million of dollars have been made for public -purposes in this country, it is safe to predict that, if the usefulness -of a non-commercial newspaper be demonstrated, funds will be -forthcoming. In the cities, where the secret control of the channels of -publicity is easiest, there are likely to be founded financially -independent newspapers, the gift of public-spirited men of wealth. - -The ultimate control of such a foundation constitutes a problem. A -newspaper free to ignore the threats of big advertisers or powerful -interests, one not to be bought, bullied, or bludgeoned, one that might -at any moment blurt out the damning truth about police protection to -vice, corporate tax-dodging, the grabbing of water frontage by -railroads, or the non-enforcement of the factory laws, would be of such -strategic importance in the struggle for wealth that desperate efforts -would be made to chloroform it. If its governing board perpetuated -itself by coöptation, it would eventually be packed with “safe” men, who -would see to it that the newspaper was run in a “conservative” spirit; -for, in the long run, those who can watch for an advantage _all_ the -time will beat the people, who can watch only _some_ of the time. - -Chloroformed the endowed newspaper will be, unless it be committed to -the onward thought and conscience of the community. This could be done -by letting vacancies on the governing board be filled in turn by the -local bar association, the medical association, the ministers’ union, -the degree-granting faculties, the federated teachers, the central labor -union, the chamber of commerce, the associated charities, the public -libraries, the non-partisan citizens’ associations, the improvement -leagues, and the social settlements. In this way the endowment would -rest ultimately on the chief apexes of moral and intellectual worth in -the city. - -While giving, with headline, cut, and cartoon, the interesting -news,—forgeries and accidents, society and sports, as well as business -and politics,—the endowed newspaper would not dramatize crime, or gossip -of private affairs; above all, it would not “fake,” “doctor,” or -sensationalize the news. Too self-respecting to use keyhole tactics, and -too serious to chronicle the small beer of the wedding trousseau or the -divorce court, such a newspaper could not begin to match the commercial -press in circulation. But it would reach those who reach the public -through the weeklies and monthlies, and would inform the teachers, -preachers, lecturers, and public men, who speak to the people eye to -eye. - -What is more, it would be a _corrective newspaper_, giving a wholesome -leverage for lifting up the commercial press. The big papers would not -dare be caught smothering or “cooking” the news. The revelations of an -independent journal that everybody believed, would be a terror to them, -and, under the spur of a competitor not to be frightened, bought up, or -tired out, they would be compelled, in sheer self-preservation, to tell -the truth much oftener than they do. - -The Erie Canal handles less than a twentieth of the traffic across the -State of New York, yet, by its standing offer of cheap transportation, -it exerts a regulative pressure on railway rates which is realized only -when the canal opens in the spring. On the same principle, the endowed -newspaper in a given city might print only a twentieth of the daily -press output, and yet exercise over the other nineteen twentieths an -influence great and salutary. - - - - - THE PERSONAL EQUATION IN JOURNALISM - - BY HENRY WATTERSON - - - I - -The daily newspaper, under modern conditions, embraces two parts very -nearly separate and distinct in their requirements—the journalistic and -the commercial. - -The aptitude for producing a commodity is one thing, and the aptitude -for putting this commodity on the market is quite another thing. The -difference is not less marked in newspaper-making than in other -pursuits. The framing and execution of contracts for advertising, for -printing-paper and ink, linotyping and press-work; the handling of money -and credits; the organization of the telegraphic service and postal -service; the supervision of machinery—in short, the providing of the -vehicle and the power that turns its wheels—is the work of a single -mind, and usually it is engrossing work. It demands special talent and -ceaseless activity and attention all day long, and every day in the -year. Except it be sufficient, considerable success is out of the -question. Sometimes its sufficiency is able to float an indifferent -product. Without it the best product is likely to languish. - -The making of the newspaper, that is, the collating of the news and its -consistent and uniform distribution and arrangement, the representation -of the mood and tense of the time, a certain continuity, more or less, -of thought and purpose,—the popularization of the commodity,—call for -energies and capacities of another sort. The editor of the morning -newspaper turns night into day. When others sleep he must be awake and -astir. His is the only vocation where versatility is not a hindrance or -a diversion; where the conventional is not imposed upon his personality. -He should be many-sided, and he is often most engaging when he seems -least heedful of rule. Yet nowhere is ready and sound discretion in -greater or more constant need. The editor must never lose his head. -Sure, no less than prompt, judgment is required at every turning. It is -his business to think for everybody. Each subordinate must be so drilled -and fitted to his place as to become in a sense the replica of his -chief. And, even then, when at noon he goes carefully over the work of -the night before, he will be fortunate if he finds that all has gone as -he planned it, or could wish it. - -I am assuming that the make-up of the newspaper is an autocracy: the -product of one man, the offspring of a policy; the man indefatigable and -conscientious, the policy fixed, sober, and alert. In the famous -sea-fight the riffraff of sailors from all nations, whom Paul Jones had -picked up wherever he could find them, responded like the parts of a -machine to the will of their commander. They seemed inspired, the -British Captain Pearson testified before the Court of Inquiry. So in a -well-ordered newspaper office, when at midnight wires are flashing and -feet are hurrying, and to the onlooking stranger chaos seems to reign, -the directing mind and hand have their firm grip upon the tiller-ropes, -which extend from the editorial room to the composing-room, from the -composing-room to the press-room, and from the press-room to the -breakfast-table. - - - II - -Personal journalism had its origin in the crude requirements of the -primitive newspaper. An editor, a printer, and a printer’s devil, were -all-sufficient. For half a century after the birth of the daily -newspaper in America, one man did everything which fell under the head -of editorial work. The army of reporters, telegraphers, and writers, -duly officered and classified, which has come to occupy the larger -field, was undreamed of by the pioneers of Boston, New York, -Philadelphia, and Baltimore. - -Individual ownership was the rule. Little money was embarked. Commonly -it was “So-and-So’s paper.” Whilst the stories of private war, of -pistols and coffee, have been exaggerated, the early editors were much -beset; were held to strict accountability for what appeared in their -columns; sometimes had to take their lives in their hands. In certain -regions the duello flourished—one might say became the fashion. Up to -the War of Secession, the instance of an editor who had not had a -personal encounter, indeed, many encounters, was a rare one. Not a few -editors acquired celebrity as “crack shots,” gaining more reputation by -their guns than by their pens. - -The familiar “Stop my paper” was personally addressed, an ebullition of -individual resentment. - -“Mr. Swain,” said an irate subscriber to the founder of the -_Philadelphia Ledger_, whom he met one morning on his way to his place -of business, “I have stopped your paper, sir—I have stopped your paper.” - -Mr. Swain was a gentleman of dignity and composure. “Indeed,” said he, -with a kindly intonation; “come with me and let us see about it.” - -When the two had reached the spot where the office of the _Ledger_ -stood, nothing unusual appeared to have happened: the building was still -there, the force within apparently engaged in its customary activities. -Mr. Swain looked leisurely about him, and turning upon his now expectant -but thoroughly puzzled fellow townsman, he said,— - -“Everything seems to be as I left it last night. Stop my paper, sir! How -could you utter such a falsehood!” - -Mr. James Gordon Bennett, the elder, was frequently and brutally -assailed. So was Mr. Greeley. Mr. Prentice, though an expert in the use -of weapons, did not escape many attacks of murderous intent. Editors -fought among themselves, anon with fatal result, especially about -Richmond in Virginia, and Nashville in Tennessee, and New Orleans. So -self-respecting a gentleman, and withal so peaceful a citizen, as Mr. -William Cullen Bryant, fell upon a rival journalist with a horsewhip on -Broadway, in New York. The prosy libel suit has come to take the place -of the tragic street duel,—the courts of law to settle what was formerly -submitted to the code of honor,—the star part of “fighting editor” -having come to be a relic of bygone squalor and glory. The call to arms -in 1861 found few of the editorial bullies ready for the fray, and no -one of them made his mark as a soldier in battle. They were good only on -parade. Even the South had its fill of combat, valor grew too common to -be distinguished, and, out of a very excess of broil and blood, along -with multiplied opportunities for the display of courage, gun-play got -its quietus. The good old times, when it was thought that a man who had -failed at all else could still keep a hotel and edit a newspaper, have -passed away. They are gone forever. If a gentleman kills his man -nowadays, even in honest and fair fight, they call it murder. Editors -have actually to be educated to their work, and to work for their -living. The soul of Bombastes has departed, and journalism is no longer -irradiated and advertised by the flash of arms. - -We are wont to hear of the superior integrity of those days. There will -always be in direct accountability a certain sense of obligation lacking -to the anonymous and impersonal. Most men will think twice before they -commit their thoughts to print where their names are affixed. Ambition -and vanity, as well as discretion, play a restraining part here; they -play it, even though there be no provocation to danger. Yet, seeing that -somebody must be somewhere back of the pen, the result would appear -still to be referable to private character. - -Most of the personal journalists were in alliance with the contemporary -politicians; all of them were the slaves of party. Many of them were -without convictions, holding to the measures of the time the relation -held by the play-actors to the parts that come to them on the stage. -Before the advent of the elder Bennett, independent journalism was -unknown. In the “partnership” of Seward, Weed, and Greeley,—Mr. Greeley -himself described it, he being “the junior member,”—office, no less than -public printing, was the object of two members at least of the firm. -Lesser figures were squires instead of partners, their chiefs as knights -of old. Callender first served, then maligned, Jefferson. Croswell was -the man-at-arms of the Albany Regency, valet to Mr. Van Buren. Forney -played majordomo to Mr. Buchanan until Buchanan, becoming President, -left his poor follower to hustle for himself; a signal, but not -anomalous, piece of ingratitude. Prentice held himself to the orders of -Clay. Even Raymond, set up in business by the money of Seward’s friends, -could call his soul his own only toward the end of his life, and then by -a single but fatal misstep brought ruin upon the property his genius had -created. - -Not, indeed, until the latter third of the last century did independent -journalism acquire considerable vogue, with Samuel Bowles and Charles A. -Dana to lead it in the East, and Murat Halstead and Horace White, -followed by Joseph Medill, Victor F. Lawson, Melville E. Stone, and -William R. Nelson, in the West. - - - III - -The new school of journalism, sometimes called impersonal and taking its -lead from the counting-room, which generally prevails, promises to -become universal in spite of an individualist here and there uniting -salient characteristics to controlling ownership—a union which in the -first place created the personal journalism of other days. - -Here, however, the absence of personality is more apparent than real. -Control must be lodged somewhere. Whether it be upstairs, or downstairs, -it is bound to be—if successful—both single-minded and arbitrary, the -embodiment of the inspiration and the will of one man; the expression -made to fit the changed conditions which have impressed themselves upon -the writing and the speaking of our time. - -Eloquence and fancy, oratory and rhetoric, have for the most part given -place in our public life to the language of business. More and more do -budgets usurp the field of affairs. As fiction has exhausted the -situations possible to imaginative writing, so has popular declamation -exhausted the resources of figurative speech; and just as the novel -seeks other expedients for arousing and holding the interest of its -readers, do speakers and publicists, abandoning the florid and -artificial, aim at the simple and the lucid, the terse and incisive, the -argument the main point, attained, as a rule, in the statement. To this -end the counting-room, with its close kinship to the actualities of the -world about it, has a definite advantage over the editorial room, as a -school of instruction. Nor is there any reason why the head of the -counting-room should not be as highly qualified to direct the editorial -policies as the financial policies of the newspaper of which, as the -agent of a corporation or an estate, he has become the executive; the -newspaper thus conducted assuming something of the character of the -banking institution and the railway company, being indeed in a sense a -common carrier. At least a greater show of stability and respectability, -if not a greater sense of responsibility, would be likely to follow such -an arrangement, since it would establish a more immediate relation with -the community than that embraced by the system which seems to have -passed away, a system which was not nearly so accessible, and was, -moreover, hedged about by a certain mystery that attaches itself to -midnight, to the flare of the footlights and the smell of printers’ ink. - -I had written thus far and was about to pursue this line of thought with -some practical suggestion emanating from a wealth of observation and -reminiscence when, reading the _Atlantic Monthly_ for March, I -encountered the following passage from the very thoughtful paper of Mr. -Edward Alsworth Ross, entitled “The Suppression of Important News”:— - -“More and more the owner of the big daily is a business man who finds it -hard to see why he should run his property on different lines from the -hotel proprietor, the vaudeville manager, or the owner of an amusement -park. The editors are hired men, and they may put into the paper no more -of their conscience and ideals than comports with getting the biggest -return from the investment. Of course, the old-time editor who owned his -paper tried to make money—no sin, that!—but just as to-day the author, -the lecturer, or the scholar, tries to make money, namely, within the -limitations imposed by his principles and his professional standards. -But, now that the provider of the newspaper capital hires the editor -instead of the editor hiring the newspaper capital, the paper is -likelier to be run as a money-maker pure and simple—a factory where ink -and brains are so applied to white paper as to turn out the largest -possible marketable product. The capitalist-owner means no harm, but he -is not bothered by the standards that hamper the editor-owner. He -follows a few simple maxims that work out well enough in selling shoes -or cigars or sheet-music.” - -There follow many examples of the “suppression” of “news.” Some of these -might be called “important.” Others are less so. Here enters a question -as to what is “news” and what is not; a question which gives rise to -frequent and sometimes considerable differences of opinion. - -If the newspaper manager is to make no distinction between vaudeville -and journalism, between the selling of white paper disfigured by -printer’s ink and the selling of shoes, or sheet-music, comment would -seem superfluous. I venture to believe that such a manager would nowhere -be able long to hold his own against one of an ambition and intelligence -better suited to supplying the requirement of the public demand for a -vehicle of communication between itself and the world at large. Now and -then we see a very well-composed newspaper fail of success because of -its editorial character and tone. Now and then we see one succeed, -having no editorial character and tone. But the rule is otherwise. The -leading dailies everywhere stand for something. They are rarely without -aspiration. Because of the unequal capabilities of those who conduct -them, they have had their ups and downs: great journals, like the -_Chicago Times_, passing out of existence through the lack of an -adequate head; failing journals, like the _New York World_, saved from -shipwreck by the timely arrival of an adequate head. - -My own observation leads me to believe that more is to be charged -against the levity and indifference of the average newspaper—perhaps I -should say its ignorance and indolence—than against the suppression of -important news. As a matter of fact, suppression does not suppress. -Conflicting interests attend to that. Mr. Ross relates that on the desk -of every editor and sub-editor of a newspaper run by a certain -capitalist, who was also a promoter, lay a list of sixteen corporations -in which the owner was interested. This was to remind them not to print -anything damaging to those particular concerns. In the office the -exempted subjects were jocularly referred to as “sacred cows.” - -This case, familiar to all newspaper men, was an extreme one. The -newspaper proved a costly and ignominious failure. Its owner, who ran it -on the lines of an “amusement park,” landed first in a bankruptcy and -then in a criminal court, finally to round up in the penitentiary. -Before him, and in the same city, a fellow “journalist” had been given a -state-prison sentence. In another and adjacent city the editor and owner -of a famous and influential newspaper who had prostituted himself and -his calling escaped the stripes of a convict only through executive -clemency. - -The disposition to publish everything, without regard to private feeling -or good neighborhood, may be carried to an excess quite as hurtful to -the community as the suppressions of which Mr. Ross tells us in his -interesting résumé. The newspaper which constitutes itself judge and -jury, which condemns in advance of conviction, which, reversing the -English rule of law, assumes the accused guilty instead of innocent,—the -newspaper, in short, which sets itself up as a public prosecutor,—is -likely to become a common scold and to arouse its readers out of all -proportion to any good achieved by publicity. As in other affairs of -life, the sense of decency imposes certain reserves, and also the sense -of charity. - -The justest complaint which may be laid at the door of the modern -newspaper seems to me its invasion of the home, and the conversion of -its reporters into detectives. Pretending to be the defender of liberty, -it too often is the assailant of private right. Each daily issue should -indeed aim to be the history of yesterday, but it should be clean as -well as truthful; and as we seek in our usual walks and ways to avoid -that which is nasty and ghastly, so should we, in the narration of -scandal and crime, guard equally against exaggeration and pruriency, nor -be ashamed to suppress that which may be too vile to tell. - -In a recent article Mr. Victor Rosewater, the accomplished editor of the -_Omaha Bee_, takes issue with Mr. Ross upon the whole line of his -argument, which he subjects to the critical analysis of a practical -journalist. The muck-raking magazines, so extolled by Mr. Ross, are -shown by Mr. Rosewater to be the merest collection of already printed -newspaper material, the periodical writer having time to put them -together in more connected form. He also shows that the Chautauqua -circuits are but the emanations of newspaper advertising; and that, if -newspapers of one party make suppressions in the interest of their -party, the newspapers of the other are ready with the antidote. -Obviously, Mr. Ross is either a newspaper subaltern, or a college -professor. In either case he is, as Mr. Rosewater shows, a visionary. - -In nothing does this betray itself so clearly as in the suggestion of -“an endowed newspaper,” which is Mr. Ross’s remedy for the evils he -enumerates. - -“Because newspapers, as a rule, prefer construction to destruction,” -says Mr. Rosewater, “they are accused by Mr. Ross of malfeasance for -selfish purposes. True, a newspaper depends for its own prosperity upon -the prosperity of the community in which it is published. The newspaper -selfishly prefers business prosperity to business adversity. A panic is -largely psychological, and the newspapers can do much to aggravate or to -mitigate its severity. There is no question that to the willful efforts -of the newspapers as a body to allay public fear and to restore business -confidence is to be credited the short duration and comparative mildness -of the last financial cataclysm. Would an endowed newspaper have acted -differently? Most people would freely commend the newspapers for what -they did to start the wheels of industry again revolving, and this is -the first time I have seen them condemned for suppressing ‘important -news’ of business calamity and industrial distress in subservience to a -worship of advertising revenue.” - -The truth of this can hardly be denied. Most fair-minded observers will -agree with Mr. Rosewater that “a few black sheep in the newspaper fold -do not make the whole flock black, nor do the combined imperfections of -all newspapers condemn them to failure”; and I cannot resist quoting -entire the admirable conclusion with which a recognized newspaper -authority disposes of a thoroughly theoretic newspaper critic. - -“Personally,” says Mr. Rosewater, “I would like to see the experiment of -an endowed newspaper tried, because I am convinced comparison would only -redound to the advantage of the newspaper privately conducted as a -commercial undertaking. The newspaper most akin to the endowed newspaper -in this country is published in the interest of the Christian Science -Church. With it, ‘important news’ is news calculated to promote the -propaganda of the faith, and close inspection of its columns would -disclose news-suppression in every issue. On the other hand, a daily -newspaper, standing on its own bottom, must have readers to make its -advertising space valuable, and without a reasonable effort to cover all -the news and command public confidence, the standing and clientage of -the paper cannot be successfully maintained. The endowed paper pictured -to us as the ideal paper, run by a board of governors filled in turn by -representatives of the various uplift societies enumerated by Professor -Ross, would blow hot and would blow cold, would have no consistent -policy or principles, would be unable to alter the prevailing notion of -what constitutes important news, and would be from the outset busily -engaged in a work of news-suppression to suit the whims of the -particular hobby-riders who happened for the moment to be in dominating -control.” - -In journalism, as in statesmanship, the doctrinaire is more confident -than the man of affairs. So, in war, the lieutenant is bolder in the -thought than the captain in the action. Often the newspaper subaltern, -distrusting his chief, calls that “mercenary” which is in reality -“discrimination.” It is a pity that there is not more of this latter in -our editorial practice. - - - IV - -Disinterestedness, unselfish devotion to the public interest, is the -soul of true journalism as of true statesmanship; and this is as likely -to proceed from the counting-room as from the editorial room; only, the -business manager must be a journalist. - -The journalism of Paris is personal, the journalism of London is -impersonal—that is to say, the one illustrates the self-exploiting, -individualized star-system, the other the more sedate and orderly, yet -not less responsible, commercial system; and it must be allowed that, in -both dignity and usefulness, the English is to be preferred to the -French journalism. It is true that English publishers are sometimes -elevated to the peerage. But this is nowise worse than French and -American editors becoming candidates for office. In either case, the -public and the press are losers in the matter of the service rendered, -because journalism and office are so antipathetic that their union must -be destructive to both. - -The upright man of business, circumspect in his everyday behavior and -jealous of his commercial honor, needs only to be educated in the -newspaper business to bring to it the characteristic virtues which shine -and prosper in the more ambitious professional and business pursuits. -The successful man in the centres of activity is usually a worldly-wise -and prepossessing person. Other things being equal, success of the -higher order inclines to those qualities of head and heart, of breeding -and education and association, which go to the making of what we call a -gentleman. The element of charm, scarcely less than the elements of -energy, integrity, and penetration, is a prime ingredient. Add breadth -and foresight, and we have the greater result of fortune and fame. - -All these essentials to preëminent manhood must be fulfilled by the -newspaper which aspires to preëminence. And there is no reason why this -may not spring from the business end, why they may not exist and -flourish there, exhaling their perfume into every department; in short, -why they may not tempt ambition. The newspapers, as Hamlet observes of -the players, are the abstracts and brief chronicles of the time. It were -indeed better to have a bad epitaph when you die than their ill report -while you live, even from those of the baser sort; how much more from a -press having the confidence and respect—and yet more than these, the -affection—of the community? Hence it is that special college training is -beginning to be thought of, and occasionally tried; and, while this is -subject to very serious disadvantage on the experimental side, its -ethical value may in the long run find some way to give it practical -application and to make it permanent as an arm of the newspaper service. -Assuredly, character is an asset, and nowhere does it pay surer and -larger dividends than in the newspaper business. - - - V - -We are passing through a period of transition. The old system of -personal journalism having gone out, and the new system of counting-room -journalism having not quite reached a full realization of itself, the -editorial function seems to have fallen into a lean and slippered state, -the matters of tone and style honored rather in the breach than in the -observance. Too many ill-trained, uneducated lads have graduated out of -the city editor’s room by sheer force of audacity and enterprise into -the more important posts. Too often the counting-room takes no -supervision of the editorial room beyond the immediate selling value of -the paper the latter turns out. Things upstairs are left at loose ends. -There are examples of opportunities lost through absentee landlordism. - -These conditions, however, are ephemeral. They will yield before the -progressive requirements of a process of popular evolution which is -steadily lifting the masses out of the slough of degeneracy and -ignorance. The dime novel has not the vogue it once had. Neither has the -party organ. Readers will not rest forever content under the impositions -of fake or colored news; of misleading headlines; of false alarums and -slovenly writing. Already they begin to discriminate, and more and -clearly they will learn to discriminate, between the meretricious and -the true. - -The competition in sensationalism, to which we owe the yellow press, as -it is called, will become a competition in cleanliness and accuracy. The -counting-room, which is next to the people and carries the purse, will -see that decency pays, that good sense and good faith are good -investments, and it will look closer to the personal character and the -moral product of the editorial room, requiring better equipment and more -elevated standards. There will never again be a Greeley, or a Raymond, -or a Dana, playing the rôle of “star” and personally exploited by -everything appearing in journals which seemed to exist mainly to glorify -them. Each was in his way a man of superior attainments. Each thought -himself an unselfish servant of the public. Yet each had his -limitations—his ambitions and prejudices, his likes and dislikes, -intensified and amplified by the habit of personalism, often -unconscious. And, this personal element eliminated, why may not the -impersonal head of the coming newspaper—proud of his profession, and -satisfied with the results of its ministration—render a yet better -account to God and the people in unselfish devotion to the common -interest? - - - - - THE PROBLEM OF THE ASSOCIATED PRESS - - BY AN OBSERVER - - - I - -The question of suppressed or tainted news has in recent years been -repeatedly agitated, and reformers of all brands have urged that the -majority of the newspapers of the country are business-tied—that they -are ruled according to the sordid ambition of the counting-house rather -than by the untrammeled play of the editorial intellect. Capitalism is -alleged to be playing ducks and drakes with the Anglo-Saxon tradition of -a free press. - -The most important instance of criticism of this kind is afforded by -current attacks upon the Associated Press. The Associated Press, as -everybody knows, is the greatest news-gathering organization in the -world; it supplies with their daily general information more than half -the population of the United States. That it should be accused, in these -times of class controversy and misunderstanding, of being a “news -trust,” and of coloring its news in the interest of capital and -reaction, is therefore an excessively grave matter. Yet in the last six -months it has been accused of both those things. So persistent has been -the assertion of certain socialists that the Associated Press colors -industrial news in the interest of the employer, that its management has -sued them for libel. That it is a trust is the contention of one of its -rivals, the Sun News Bureau of New York, whose prayer for its -dissolution under the Sherman law, as a monopoly in restraint of trade, -is now before the Department of Justice in Washington.[5] - -Footnote 5: - - This charge made by the _New York Sun_, in February, 1914, was not - sustained in an opinion given by the Attorney General of the United - States on March 17, 1915.—ED. - -To the writer, the main questions at issue, so far as the public is -concerned, seem to be as follows:— - -1. Is the business of collecting and distributing news in bulk -essentially monopolistic? 2. If it is, and if it can not be -satisfactorily performed by an unlimited number of competitive agencies -(that is, individual newspapers), is the Associated Press in theory and -practice the best type of centralized organization for the purpose? - -The first question presents little difficulty to the practical -journalist. A successful agency for the gathering of news must be -monopolistic. No newspaper is rich enough, the attention of no editor is -ubiquitous enough, to be able to collect at first hand a tithe of the -multitudinous items which a public of catholic curiosity expects to find -neatly arranged on its breakfast table. Take the large journals of New -York and Boston, with their columns of news from all parts of the United -States and the world. Their bills for telegrams and cablegrams alone -would be prohibitive of dividends, to say nothing of their bills for the -collection of the news. A public educated by a number of newspapers with -their powers of observation and instruction whetted to superlative -excellence by keen competition would no doubt be ideal; but a -journalistic Utopia of that kind is no more feasible than other Utopias. -Unlimited and unassisted competition between, say, six newspapers in the -same city or district would be about as feasible economically as -unlimited competition between six railway lines running from Boston to -New York. The need for a common service of foreign and national news -must therefore be admitted. To supply such a service, even in these days -of especially cheap telegraph and cable rates for press matter, requires -a great deal of money, and a press agency has a great deal of money to -spend only if it has also a large number of customers. - -As the number of newspapers is limited, it is clear that the press -agency has strong claims to be recognized as a public service, and to be -classed with railways, telephones, telegraphs, waterworks, and many -other forms of corporate venture which even the wildest radical admits -cannot be subjected to the anarchy of unrestricted competition. Thus the -simple charge that the Associated Press is a monopoly cannot be held to -condemn it. But, to invert Mr. Roosevelt’s famous phrase, there are bad -trusts as well as good trusts. That the Associated Press is powerful -enough to be a bad trust if those who control it so desire must be -admitted offhand. It is a tremendously effective organization. Its -service is supplied to more than 850 of the leading newspapers, with a -total circulation of, probably, about 20,000,000 copies a day. - -The Associated Press is the child of the first effort at coöperative -news-gathering ever made. Back in the forties of the last century, -before the Atlantic cable was laid, newspapers began to spend ruinous -sums in getting the earliest news from Europe. Those were the days in -which the first ship-news dispatch-boats were launched to meet vessels -as they entered New York harbor, and to race back with the news to their -respective offices. The competition grew to the extent even of sending -fast boats all the way to Europe, and soon became extravagant enough to -cause its collapse. Then seven New York newspapers organized a joint -service. This service, which was meant primarily to cover European news, -grew slowly to cover the United States. Newspapers in other cities were -taken into it on a reciprocal basis. The news of the Association was -supplied at that time in return for a certain sum, the newspapers -undertaking on their part to act as the local correspondents of the -Association. A reciprocal arrangement with Reuter’s, the great European -agency, followed, whereby it supplied the Associated Press with its -foreign service, and the Associated Press gave to Reuter’s the use of -its American service. - -Even so, the Associated Press did not carry all before it. In the -seventies a number of Western newspapers formed the Western Associated -Press. A period of sharp competition followed, but in 1882 the two -associations signed a treaty of partnership for ten years. They were not -long in supreme control of the field, however. The Associated Press of -those days, like its successor to-day, was a close corporation in the -sense that its members could and did veto the inclusion of rivals. As -the West grew, new newspapers sprang up and were kept in the cold by -their established rivals. The result was the United Press, which soon -worked up an effective service. The Associated Press tried to cripple it -by a rule that no newspaper subscribing to its service should have -access to the news of the Associated Press; but in spite of the rule the -United Press waxed strong and might have become a really formidable -competitor had not the Associated Press been able to buy a controlling -share in it. A harmonious business agreement followed; but in accordance -with the business methods of those days the public was not apprized of -the agreement, and when, in 1892, its existence became known, there was -a row and a readjustment. The United Press absorbed the old Associated -Press of New York, and the Western Associated Press again became -independent. Reuter’s agency continued to supply both associations with -its European service. - -But the ensuing period of competition did not last. Three years later, -the Western Associated Press achieved a monopolistic agreement with -Reuter’s, carried the war into the United Press territory,—the South and -the country east of the Alleghanies,—got a number of New York newspapers -to join it, and effected a national organization. - - - II - -That national organization is, to all intents and purposes, the -Associated Press of to-day. The only really important change has been in -its transference as a company from the jurisdiction of Illinois to that -of New York. This change was accomplished in 1900, owing to an adverse -judgment of the Supreme Court of Illinois. To grasp the significance of -that judgment, and indeed the current agitation against the Associated -Press, it is necessary to sketch briefly its rules and methods. - -The Associated Press is not a commercial company in the sense that it is -a dividend-hunting concern. Under the terms of its present charter, the -corporation “is not to make a profit or to make or declare dividends and -is not to engage in the selling of intelligence or traffic in the same.” -It is simply meant to be the common agent of a number of subscribing -newspapers, for the interchange of news which each collects in its own -district, and for the collection of news such as subscribers cannot -collect singlehanded: that is, foreign news and news concerning certain -classes of domestic happenings. Its board of directors consists of -journalists and publishers connected with subscribing newspapers, who -serve without payment. Its executive work is done by a salaried general -manager and his assistants. It is financed on a basis of weekly -assessments levied, according to their size and custom, upon newspapers -which are members. The sum thus collected comes to about $3,000,000 a -year. It is spent partly for the hire of special wires from the -telegraph companies, and partly for the maintenance of special -news-collecting staffs. The mileage of leased wires is immense, -amounting to about 22,000 miles by day and 28,000 miles by night. Nor -does the organization, as some of its critics seem to imagine, get any -special privileges from the telegraph companies. Such privileges -belonged to its early history, when business standards were lower than -they are now. - -The Associated Press has at least one member in every city of any size -in the country. That in itself insures it a good news-service; but, as -indicated above, it has in all important centres a bureau of its own. -Important events, whether fixed, like national conventions, or -fortuitous, like strikes or floods or shipwrecks, it covers more -comprehensively than any single newspaper can do. Its foreign service is -ubiquitous. It no longer depends upon its arrangement with Reuter’s, and -other foreign news-agencies: early in the present century the -intelligence thus collected was found to lack the American point of -view, and an extensive foreign service was formed, with local -headquarters in London, Paris, and other European capitals, Peking, -Tokyo, Mexico, and Havana, and with scores of correspondents all over -the world. - -Enough has been said to show that its efficiency and the manner of its -organization combine to give the Associated Press a distinct savor of -monopoly. As the Sun News Bureau and other rivals have found, it cannot -be effectively competed against. Too many of the richest and most -powerful newspapers belong to it. - -Is it a harmful monopoly? Its critics, as explained above, are busy -proving that it is. They urge that, being a close corporation, it -stifles trade in the selling of news, and that it is not impartial. - -The first argument is based upon the following facts. Membership in the -Associated Press is naturally valuable. An Associated Press franchise to -a newspaper in New York or Chicago is worth from $50,000 to $200,000.[6] -To share such a privilege is not in human or commercial nature. One of -the first rules of the organization is, therefore, that no new newspaper -can be admitted without the consent of members within competitive -radius. Naturally, that assent is seldom given. This “power of protest” -has not been kept without a struggle. The law-suit of 1900 was due to -it. The _Chicago Inter-Ocean_ was refused admission,[7] and went to law. -The case went to the Supreme Court of Illinois, which ruled that a press -agency like the Associated Press was in the nature of a public service -and as such ought to be open to everybody. To have yielded to the -judgment would have smashed the Associated Press, so it reorganized -under the laws of New York, with the moral satisfaction of knowing that -the courts of Missouri had upheld what the Illinois court had condemned. -Its new constitution, which is that of to-day, keeps in effect the right -of protest, the only difference being that a disappointed applicant for -membership gets the not very useful consolation of being able to appeal -to the association in the slender hope that four-fifths of the members -will vote for his admission. - -Footnote 6: - - In the appraisal of the estate of Joseph Pulitzer in 1914, the two - Associated Press franchises held by the _New York World_, one for the - morning and one for the evening edition, were valued at $240,000 - each.—ED. - -Footnote 7: - - This is an error which is corrected in Mr. Stone’s reply, cf. p. 124. - -The practical working of the rule has undoubtedly been monopolistic; not -so much because it has rendered the Associated Press a monopoly, but -because it has rendered it the mother, potential and sometimes actual, -of countless small monopolies. On account of the size of the United -States and the diverse interests of the various sections, there is in -our country no daily press with a national circulation. Newspapers -depend primarily upon their local constituencies. In each journalistic -geographic unit, if the expression may be allowed, one or more -newspapers possess the Associated Press franchise. Such newspapers have -in the excellent and comparatively cheap Associated Press service an -instrument for monopoly hardly less valuable than a rebate-giving -railway may be to a commercial corporation. It is also alleged by some -of its enemies that the Associated Press still at times enjoins its -members against taking simultaneously the service of its rival. - -It is easy to argue that, because the Associated Press is a close -corporation, it cannot be a monopoly, and that those who are really -trying to make a “news trust” of it are they who insist that it ought to -be open to all comers; but in practice the argument is a good deal of a -quibble. The facts remain that, as shown above, an effective news-agency -has to be tremendously rich; that to be tremendously rich it has to have -prosperous constituents; and that the large majority of prosperous -newspapers of the country belong to the Associated Press. In the -writer’s opinion it would be virtually impossible, as things stand, for -any of the Associated Press’s rivals to become the Associated Press’s -equal, upon either a commercial or a coöperative basis. - - - III - -The tremendous importance of the question of the fairness of the -Associated Press service is now apparent. If it is deliberately tainted, -as the socialists and radicals aver, there is virtually no free press in -the country. The question is a very delicate one. Enemies of the -Associated Press assert in brief that its stories about industrial -troubles are colored in the interest of the employer; that its political -news shows a similar bias in favor of the plutocratic party, whatever -that may be; that, in fact, it is used as a class organ. In the -Presidential campaign of 1912, Mr. Roosevelt’s followers insisted that -the doings of their candidates were blanketed. In the recent labor -troubles [1914] in West Virginia, Michigan, and Colorado, the friends of -labor have made the same complaint of one-sidedness in the interest of -the employer. - -Not only do the directors of the Associated Press deny all insinuations -of unfairness, but they argue that partisanship, and especially -political partisanship, would be impossible in view of the multitudinous -shades of political opinion represented by their constituents. They can -also adduce with justice the fact that in nearly every campaign more -than one political manager has accused them of favoritism, only to -retract when the heat of the campaign was over. The charge of industrial -and social partisanship they meet with a point-blank denial. It is -impossible in the space of this paper to sift the evidence pro and con. -Pending action by the courts the only safe thing to do is to look at the -question in terms of tendencies rather than of facts. - -The Associated Press, it has been shown, tends to be a monopoly. Does it -tend to be a one-sided monopoly? The writer believes that it does. He -believes that it may fairly be said that the Associated Press as a -corporation is inclined to see things through conservative spectacles, -and that its correspondents, despite the very high average of their -fairness, tend to do the same thing. It could hardly be otherwise, -although it is possible that there is nothing deliberate in the -tendency. Nearly all the subscribers to the Associated Press are the -most respectable and successful newspaper publishers in their -neighborhoods. They belong to that part of the community which has a -stake in the settled order of things; their managers are business men -among business men; they have relations with the local magnates of -finance and commerce: naturally, whatever their political views may be -(and the majority of the powerful organs of the country are -conservative), their aggregate influence tends to be on the side of -conservatism. - -The tendency, too, is enhanced by the articles under which the -Associated Press is incorporated. There is special provision against -fault-finding on the part of members. The corporation is given the right -to expel a member “for any conduct on his part or the part of any one in -his employ or connected with his newspaper, which in its absolute -discretion it shall deem of such a character as to be prejudicial to the -interest and welfare of the corporation and its members, or to justify -such expulsion. The action of the members of the corporation in such -regard shall be final, and there shall be no right of appeal or review -of such action.” The Associated Press rightly prides itself upon the -standing of its correspondents. The majority of them are drawn from the -ranks of the matter-of-fact respectable. In the nature of their calling, -they are not likely to be economists or theoretical politicians. In the -case of a strike, for instance, their instinct might well be to go to -the employer or the employer’s lieutenant for news rather than to the -strike-leader. - -Whether the Associated Press is a monopoly within the meaning of the -anti-trust law, whether it actually colors news as the socialists aver, -must be left to the courts to decide. The point to be noticed here is -that it might color news if it wanted to, and that it does exercise -certain monopolistic functions. That in itself is a dangerous state of -affairs: but it seems to be one that might be rectified. The Illinois -Supreme Court has pointed the way. The news-agency is essentially -monopolistic. It has much in common with the ordinary public-utility -monopoly. It should therefore be treated like a public-utility -corporation. It should be subject to government regulation and -supervision, and its service should be open to all customers. Were this -done, the Associated Press would be altered but not destroyed. Its -useful features would surely remain and its drawbacks as surely be -lessened. The right of protest would be entirely swept away; membership -would be unlimited; the threat of expulsion for fault-finding would be -automatically removed from above the heads of members; all newspapers of -all shades would be free to apply the corrective of criticism; and if -its news were none the less unfair, some arrangement could presumably be -made for government restraint. - -The Press Association of England is an unlimited coöperative concern. -Any newspaper can subscribe to it, and new subscribers are welcome. -Especially in the provincial field, it is as powerful a factor in -British journalism as the Associated Press is in the journalism of the -United States, yet its very openness has saved it from the taint of -partiality. To organize the Associated Press on the same lines would, of -course, entail hardship to its present constituents. They would be -exposed to fierce local competition. The value of their franchises would -dwindle. Such rival agencies as exist might be ruined, for they could -hardly compete with the Associated Press in the open market. But it is -difficult to see how American journalism would suffer from a regulated -monopoly of that kind; and the public would certainly be benefited, for -it would continue to enjoy the excellent service of the Associated -Press, with its invaluable foreign telegrams and its comprehensive -domestic news; it would be safeguarded to no small extent from the -danger of local or national news-monopolies and from insidiously tainted -news. - -Such a reform, if reform there has to be, would, in a word, be -constructive. The alternatives to it, as the writer understands the -situation, would be destructive and empirical. The organization of the -Associated Press would either be cut to pieces or destroyed. There would -thus be a chaos of ineffective competition among either coöperative or -commercial press agencies. Equal competition among a number of -coöperative associations would, for reasons already explained, mean -comparatively ineffective and weak services. Competition among -commercial agencies would have even less to recommend it. The latter -must by their nature be more susceptible to special influences than the -coöperative agency. They are controlled by a few business men, not by -their customers. Competing commercial agencies would almost inevitably -come to represent competing influences in public life; while, if worse -came to worst, a commercialized “news trust” would clearly be more -dangerous than a coöperative news trust. The great reactionary -influences of business would have freer play upon its directors than -they can have upon the directors of an organization like the Associated -Press. If it be decided that even the Associated Press is not immune -from such influences, the public should, the writer believes, think -twice before demanding its destruction, instead of its alteration to -conform with the modern conception of the public-service corporation. - - - - - THE ASSOCIATED PRESS: A REPLY - - BY MELVILLE E. STONE - - [_A letter to the Editor of the Atlantic Monthly, dated August 1, - 1914._] - - -An article under the title, “The Problem of The Associated Press,” -appeared in the July issue of the Atlantic. It was anonymous and may be -without claim to regard. It is marred by several mistakes of fact. Some -of them are inexcusable: the truth might so easily have been learned. -Nevertheless it is desirable that everybody should know all about the -Associated Press, whether it is an unlawful and dangerous monopoly, or -whether it is in the business of circulating “tainted news.” Its -telegrams are published in full or in abbreviated form, in nearly 900 -daily newspapers having an aggregate circulation of many millions of -copies. Upon the accuracy of these news dispatches, one half of the -people of the United States depend for the conduct of their various -enterprises, as well as for the facts upon which to base their opinions -of the activities of the world. With a self-governing nation, it is all -important that such an agency as the Associated Press furnish as nearly -as may be the truth. To mislead is an act of treason. - -The writer’s history is at fault. For instance, the former Associated -Press never bought a controlling share of the old-time United Press, as -he alleges. Nor did the _Chicago Inter-Ocean_ go to law because it was -refused admission. It was a charter member; it admittedly violated a -by-law, discipline was administered and against this discipline the law -was invoked, and a decision adverse to the then existing Associated -Press resulted. The assertion that a “franchise to a newspaper in New -York or Chicago is worth from $50,000 to $200,000,” will amuse thousands -of people who know that five morning Associated Press newspapers of -Chicago, the _Chronicle_, the _Record_, the _Times_, the _Freie Presse_, -and the _Inter-Ocean_, have ceased publication in the somewhat recent -past, and their owners have not received a penny for their so-called -“franchises.” The _Boston Traveler_ and _Evening Journal_ were absorbed -and their memberships thrown away. The _Christian Science Monitor_ -voluntarily gave up its membership and took another service which it -preferred. The _Hartford Post_, _Bridgeport Post_, _New Haven Union_, -and _Schenectady Union_ did the same. Cases where Associated Press -papers have ceased publication have not been infrequent. Witness the -_Worcester Spy_, _St. Paul Globe_, _Minneapolis Times_, _Denver -Republican_, _San Francisco Call_, _New Orleans Picayune_, _Indianapolis -Sentinel_, and _Philadelphia Times_, as well as many others. - -The statement that the Press Association of England is an unlimited -coöperative organization betrays incomplete information. Instead, it is -a share company with an issued capital of £49,440 sterling. On this -capital, in 1913, it made £3,708. 9. 10, or nearly eight per cent. And -it had in its treasury at the end of that year a surplus of £23,281. 19. -6, or a sum nearly equal to fifty per cent. of its capitalization. It -sells news to newspapers, clubs, hotels, and newsrooms. It is not, as is -the Associated Press, a clearing-house for the exchange of news. It -gathers all its information by its own employees and sells it outright. -Finally, it does not serve all applicants, but declines, as it always -has, to furnish its news to the London papers. - -But there is a more important matter. It is said that the business of -collecting and distributing news is essentially monopolistic. But how -can this be? The field is an open one. A single reporter may enter it, -and so may an association of reporters. The business in any case may be -confined to the news of a city or it may be extended to include a state, -a nation, or the world. The material facilities for the transmission of -news, so far as they are of a public or quasi-public nature, the mail or -the telegraph, are open to the use of all on the same terms. The -subject-matter of news, events of general interest, are not property and -cannot be appropriated. The element of property exists only in the story -of the event which the reporter makes and the diligence which he uses to -bring it to the place of publication. This element of property is simply -the right of the reporter to the fruit of his own labor. - -The “Recessional” was a report of the Queen’s Jubilee. It was made by -Rudyard Kipling and was his property for that reason, to be disposed of -by him as he thought proper. He might have copyrighted it and reserved -to himself the exclusive right of publication during the period of the -copyright. He chose rather to use his common-law right of first -publication and he did this by selling it to the _London Times_. He was -not under obligation, moral or legal, to sell it at the same time to any -other publisher. - -Every other reporter stands upon the same footing and, as the author of -his story, is, by every principle of law and equity, entitled to a -monopoly of his manuscript until he voluntarily assigns it or surrenders -it to the public. He does not monopolize the news. He cannot do that, -for real news is as woman’s wit, of which Rosalind said, “Make the doors -upon [it] and it will out at the casement; shut that and ’twill out at -the keyhole; stop that, ’twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.” -The reporter as a mere laborer, engaged in personal service, is simply -free from compulsion to give or sell his labor to one seeking it. Such -is the state of the law to-day. - -And the English courts go further and uniformly hold that news telegrams -may not be pirated, even after publication. In a dozen British colonies -statutory protection of such despatches is given for varying periods. In -this country there have been a number of decisions looking to the same -end. The output of the Associated Press is not the news; it is a story -of the news, written by reporters employed to serve the membership. The -organization issues no newspaper; it prints nothing. As a reporter, it -brings its copy to the editor, who is free to print it, abbreviate it, -or throw it away. And to this reporter’s work, the reporter and the -members employing him have, by law and morals, undeniably an exclusive -right. - -The next question involves the integrity of the Associated Press -service. The cases of alleged bias he cites are unfortunate. Any claim -that the doings of the Progressives in 1912 were “blanketed” by the -Associated Press is certainly unwarranted. Our records show that the -organization reported more than three times as many words concerning the -activities of the Progressives as it did concerning those of all their -opponents combined. There were reasons for this. It was a new party in -the field, and naturally awakened unusual interest. But also, it should -be said that Colonel Roosevelt has expert knowledge of newspaper -methods. He understands the value of preparing his speeches in advance -and furnishing them in time to enable the Associated Press to send them -to its members by mail. They are put in type in the newspaper offices -leisurely and the proofs are carefully read. When one of his speeches is -delivered, a word or two by telegraph “releases” it, and a full and -accurate publication of his views results. While he was President he -often gave us his messages a month in advance; they were mailed to -Europe and to the Far East, and appeared in the papers abroad the -morning after their delivery to Congress. Before he went to Africa, the -speeches he delivered a year later at Oxford and in Paris were prepared, -put in type, proof-read, and laid away for use when required. This is -not an unusual or an unwise practice. It assures a speaker wide -publicity and saves him the annoyance of faulty reporting. Neither Mr. -Wilson nor Mr. Taft was able to do this, although frequently urged to do -so. They spoke extemporaneously, often late in the evening, and under -conditions which made it physically impossible to make a satisfactory -report, or to transmit it by wire broadcast over the country. - -As to the West Virginia coal strike: a magazine charged that the -Associated Press had suppressed the facts and that as a consequence no -one knew there had been trouble. The authors were indicted for libel. -One witness only has yet been heard. He was called by the defense, and -in the taking of his deposition it was disclosed that at the date of the -publication over 93,000 words had been delivered by the Associated Press -to the New York papers. Something like 60 columns respecting the matter -had been printed. - -However, “The point to be noticed,” says your writer, “is that it [the -Associated Press] might color news if it wanted to, and that it does -exercise certain monopolistic functions. That in itself is a dangerous -state of affairs; but it seems to be one that might be rectified.” And, -as a remedy, he proposes that “its service should be open to all -customers.” This is most interesting. If the news-service is -untrustworthy, it would naturally seem plain that the activities of the -agency should be restricted, not extended. Instead of enlarging its -field of operations, there should be, if possible, a law forbidding it -to take in any new members, or, indeed, summarily putting it out of -business. If the Associated Press is corrupt, it is too large now, and -no other newspaper should be subjected to its baleful influence. - -Your critic adds that then, “if its news were none the less unfair, some -arrangement could presumably be made for government restraint.” Since -the battle against government control of the press was fought nearly two -centuries ago, it seems scarcely worth while to waste much effort over -this suggestion. Censorship by the king’s agents was the finest flower -of mediæval tyranny. It is hard to believe that anyone, in this hour, -should suggest a return to it. - -Under the closely censored method of this coöperative organization, -notwithstanding the wide range of its operations, and although its -service has included millions of words every month, it is proper to say -that there has never been a trial for libel, nor have the expenses in -connection with libel suits exceeded a thousand dollars in the -aggregate. This should be accepted as some evidence of the standard of -accuracy maintained. - -As to the refusal of the Associated Press to admit to membership every -applicant, the suggestion is made that this puts such a limit on the -number of newspapers as to “stifle trade in the selling of news.” Thus, -says your critic, the Association is “the mother, potential and -sometimes actual, of countless small monopolies.” In reply, it may be -said that we are in no danger of a dearth of newspapers. There are more -news journals in the United States than in all the world beside. If the -whole foreign world were divided into nations of the size of this -country, each nation would have but 80 daily newspapers, while we have -over 2,400. And as to circulation, we issue a copy of a daily paper for -every three of our citizens who can read and are over ten years of age. -With our methods of rapid transportation, hundreds of daily papers might -be discontinued, and still leave every citizen able to have his morning -paper delivered at his breakfast table. Every morning paper between New -York and Chicago might be suppressed, and yet, by the fast mail trains, -papers from the two terminal cities could be delivered so promptly that -no one in the intervening area would be left without the current world’s -news. Every angle of every fad, or _ism_, outside the walls of Bedlam, -finds an advocate with the largest freedom of expression. Our need is -not for more papers, but for better papers—papers issuing truthful news -and with clearer sense of perspective as to news. - -Entirely independent of the Associated Press, or any influence it might -have upon the situation, there has been a noticeable shrinkage in the -number of important newspapers in the recent past. One reason has been -the lack of demand by the public for the old-time partisan journal. -Instead, the very proper requirement has been for papers furnishing the -news impartially, and communities therefore no longer divide, as -formerly, on political lines in their choice of newspapers. The -increased cost of white paper and of labor has also had an effect. - -Since there are some 500 or more daily newspapers getting on very well -without the advantage of the Associated Press “franchises,” it can -hardly be said that we have reached a stage where this service is -indispensable. This is strikingly true in the light of the fact that in -a number of cities the papers making the largest profits are those that -have not, nor have ever had, membership in the Associated Press. - -It will be agreed at once that private right must ever give way to -public good. If it can be shown that, as contended, the national welfare -requires that those who, without any advantage over their fellow -editors, have built up an efficient coöperative news-gathering agency, -must share the accumulated value of the good-will they have achieved, -with those who have been less energetic, we may have to give heed to the -claim. Such a contention, so persistently urged as it has been, is -certainly flattering to the membership and management of the Associated -Press. - -But, however agreeable it always is to divide up other people’s -property, before settling the matter there are some things to think of. -First, it must be the public good that forces this invasion of private -right, not the desire of someone who, with an itch to start a newspaper, -feels that he would prefer the Associated Press service. Second, the -practical effect of a rule such as was laid down by the Illinois Supreme -Court, requiring the organization to render service to all applicants, -must be carefully considered. News is not a commodity of the nature of -coal, or wood. It is incorporeal. It does not pass from seller to buyer -in the way ordinary commodities do. Although the buyer receives it, the -seller does not cease to possess it. In order to make a news-gathering -agency possible, it has been found necessary to limit, by stringent -rules, the use of the service by the member. Thus each member of the -Associated Press is prohibited from making any use of the dispatches -furnished him, other than to publish them in his newspaper. If such a -restriction were not imposed, any member, on receipt of his news -service, might at once set up an agency of his own and put an end to the -general organization. This rule, as well as all disciplinary measures, -would disappear under the plan proposed by the critic in the _Atlantic_. -A buyer might be expelled, but to-morrow he could demand readmission. -There would in practice no longer be members with a right of censorship -over the management; instead, there would be one seller and an unlimited -number of buyers. Then, indeed, there would be a monopoly of the worst -sort. And government censorship, with all of its attendant and long -since admitted evils, would follow. Under a Republican administration, -we should have a Republican censor; under a Democratic administration, a -Democratic censor. And a free press would no longer exist. - -Absolute journalistic inerrancy is not possible. But we are much nearer -it to-day than ever before. And it is toward approximate inerrancy in -its despatches that the Associated Press is striving. If in its method -of organization, or in its manner of administration, it is violating any -law, or is making for evil, then it should be punished, or suppressed. -If any better method for securing an honest, impartial news service can -be devised, by all means let us have it. But that the plan proposed -would better the situation, is clearly open to doubt. - - - - - CONFESSIONS OF A PROVINCIAL EDITOR - - BY PARACELSUS - - -There is something at once deliciously humorous and pathetic, to the -editor of a small daily in the provinces, about that old-fashioned -phrase, “the liberty of the press.” It is another one of those matters -lying so near the marge-land of what is mirthful and what is sad that a -tilt of the mood may slip it into either. To the general, doubtless, it -is a truth so obvious that it is never questioned, a bequest from our -forefathers that has paid no inheritance tax to time. In all the host of -things insidiously un-American which have crept into our life, thank -Heaven! say these unconscious Pharisees, the “press,” if somewhat -freakish, has remained free. So it is served up as a toast at banquets, -garnished with florid rhetoric; it is still heard from old-fashioned -pulpits; it cannot die, even though the conditions which made the phrase -possible have passed away. - -The pooh-poohing of the elders, the scoffing of the experienced, has -little effect upon a boy’s mind when it tries to do away with so -palpable a truth as that concerning the inability of a chopped-up snake -to die until sunset, or that matter-of-fact verity that devil’s darning -needles have little aim in life save to sew up the ears of youths and -maidens. So with that glib old fantasy, “America’s free and untrammeled -press”: it needs a vast deal of argument to convince an older public -that, as a matter to be accepted without a question, it has no right to -exist. The conditioning clause was tacked on some years ago, doubtless -when the old-time weekly began to expand into the modern small daily. -The weekly was a periodic pamphlet; the daily disdained its inheritance, -and subordinated the expression of opinion to the printing of those -matters from which opinion is made. The cost of equipment of a daily -newspaper, compared to the old-fashioned weekly, as a general thing -makes necessary for the launching of such a venture a well-organized -stock company, and in this lies much of the trouble. - -Confessions imply previous wrong-doing. Mine, while they are personal -enough, are really more interesting because of the vast number of others -they incriminate. If two editors from lesser cities do not laugh in each -other’s faces, after the example of Cicero’s augurs, it is because they -are more modern, and choose to laugh behind each other’s backs. So, in -turning state’s evidence, I feel less a coward than a reformer. - -What circumstance has led me to believe concerning the newspaper -situation in a hundred and one small cities of this country is so -startling in its unexplained brevity, that I scarce dare parade it as a -prelude to my confessions. So much of my experience is predicated upon -it that I do not dare save it for a peroration. Here it is, then, -somewhat more than half-truth, somewhat less than the truth itself: “A -newspaper in a small city is not a legitimate business enterprise.” That -seems bold and bare enough to stamp me as sensational, does it not? -Hear, then, the story of my _Herald_, knowing that it is the story of -other Heralds. The _Herald’s_ story is mine, and my story, I dare say, -is that of many others. To the facts, then. I speak with authority, -being one of the scribes. - - - I - -I chose newspaper work in my native city, Pittsburg, mainly because I -liked to write. I went into it after my high-school days, spent a six -months’ apprenticeship on a well-known paper, left it for another, and -in five years’ hard work had risen from the reportorial ranks to that of -a subordinate editorial writer—a dubious rise. Hard work had not -threshed out ambition: the few grains left sprouted. The death of an -uncle and an unexpected legacy fructified my desire. I became zealous to -preach crusades; to stamp my own individuality, my own ideals, upon the -“people”; in short, to own and run a newspaper. It was a buxom fancy, a -day-dream of many another like myself. A rapid rise had obtained for me -the summit of reasonable expectation in the matter of salary; but I then -thought, as indeed I do still, that the sum in one’s envelope o’ Mondays -is no criterion of success. Personal ambition to “mould opinion,” as the -quaint untruth has it, as well as the commercial side of owning a -newspaper, made me look about over a wide field, seeking a city which -really needed a new newspaper. The work was to be in a chosen field, and -to be one’s own taskmaster is worth more than salary. As I prospected, I -saw no possible end to the venture save that of every expectation -fulfilled. - -I found a goodly town (of course I cannot name it) that was neither all -future nor all past; a growing place, believed in by capitalists and -real-estate men. It was well railroaded, in the coal fields, near to -waterways and to glory. It was developing itself and being developed by -outside capital. It had a newspaper, a well-established affair, whose -old equipment I laughed at. It needed a new one. My opening was found. -The city would grow; I would grow up with it. The promise of six years -ago has been in part fulfilled. I have no reason to regret my choosing -the city I did. - -I went back to Pittsburg, consulted various of the great, obtained -letters to prominent men high in the political faith I intended to -follow, went back to my town armed with the letters, and talked it over. -They had been considering the matter of a daily paper there to represent -their faith and themselves, and after much dickering a company was -formed. I found I could buy the weekly _Herald_, a nice property whose -“good will” was worth having. Its owner was not over-anxious to sell, so -drove a good bargain. As a weekly the paper for forty-three years had -been gospel to many; I would make it daily gospel to more. In giving -$5,500 for it I knew I was paying well, but it had a great name and a -wide circulation. - -I saw no necessity of beginning on a small scale. People are not dazzled -in this way. I wanted a press that folk would come in and see run, and -as my rival had no linotypes, that was all the more reason why I should -have two. Expensive equipments are necessary for newspapers when they -intend to do great works and the public is eager to see what is going to -happen. All this took money, more money than I had thought it would. -But, talking the matter over with my new friends and future associates, -I convinced them that any economy was false economy at the start. But -when I started I found that I owned but forty per cent of the Herald -Publishing Company’s stock. I was too big with the future to care. The -sixty per cent was represented by various politicians. That was six -years ago. - -It does not do in America, much less in the _Atlantic_, to be morosely -pessimistic. At most one can be regretful. And yet why should I be -regretful? You have seen me settle in my thriving city; see me now. I -have my own home, a place of honor in the community, the company of the -great. You see me married, with enough to live on, enough to entertain -with, enough to afford a bit of travel now and then. I still “run” the -_Herald_: it pays me my own salary (my stockholders have never -interfered with the business management of the paper), and were I -insistent, I might have a consular position of importance, should the -particular set of politicians I uphold (my “gang,” as my rival the -_Bulletin_ says) revert to power. There is food in my larder, there are -flowers in my garden. I carry enough insurance to enable my small family -to do without me and laugh at starvation. I am but thirty-four years -old. In short, I have a competence in a goodly little city. Why should I -not rejoice with Stevenson that I have “some rags of honor left,” and go -about in middle age with my head high? Who of my schoolmates has done -better? - -Is it nothing, then, to see hope dwindle and die away? My regret is not -pecuniary: it is old-fashionedly moral. Where are those high ideals with -which I set about this business? I dare not look them in their waxen -faces. I have acquired immunity from starvation by selling underhandedly -what I had no right to sell. Some may think me the better American. But -P. T. Barnum’s dictum about the innate love Americans have for a hoax is -really a serious matter, when the truth is told. Mr. Barnum did not -leave a name and a fortune because he befooled the public. If now and -then he gave them Cardiff giants and white elephants, he also gave them -a brave display in three crowded rings. I have dealt almost exclusively -with the Cardiff giants. - -My regret is, then, a moral one. I bought something the nature of which -did not dawn upon me until late; I felt environment adapt me to it -little by little. The process was gradual, but I have not the excuse -that it was unconscious. There is the sting in the matter. I can -scarcely plead ignorance. - -Somewhere in a scrapbook, even now beginning to yellow, I have pasted, -that it may not escape me (as if it could!), my first editorial -announcing to the good world my intent with the _Herald_. Let me quote -from the mocking, double-leaded thing. I know the words. I know even now -the high hope which gave them birth. I know how enchanting the vista was -unfolding into the future. I can see how stern my boyish face was, how -warm my blood. With a blare of trumpets I announced my mission. With a -mustering day of the good old stock phrases used on such occasions I -marshaled my metaphors. In making my bow, gravely and earnestly, I said, -among other things:— - -“Without fear or favor, serving only the public, the _Herald_ will be at -all times an intelligent medium of news and opinions for an intelligent -community. Bowing the knee to no clique or faction, keeping in mind the -great imperishable standards of American manhood, the noble traditions -upon which the framework of our country is grounded, the _Herald_ will -champion, not the weak, not the strong, but the right. It will spare no -expense in gathering news, and it will give all the news all of the -time. It will so guide its course that only the higher interests of the -city are served, and will be absolutely fearless. Independent in -politics, it will freely criticise when occasion demands. By its -adherence to these principles may it stand or fall.” - -But why quote more? You have all read them, though I doubt if you have -read one more sincere. I felt myself a force, the _Herald_ the -expression of a force; an entity, the servant of other forces. My paper -was to be all that other papers were not. My imagination carried me to -sublime heights. This was six years ago. - - - II - -Events put a check on my runaway ambition in forty-eight hours. The head -of the biggest clothing house, and the largest advertiser in the city, -called on me. I received him magnificently in my new office, motioning -him to take a chair. I can see him yet—stout, prosperous, and to the -point. As he talked, he toyed with a great seal that hung from a huge -hawser-like watch-chain. - -“Say,” said he, refusing my chair, “just keep out a little item you may -get hold of to-day.” His manner was the same with me as with a salesman -in his “gents’” underclothing department. - -“Concerning?” I asked pleasantly. - -“Oh, there’s a friend of mine got arrested to-day. Some farmer had him -took in for fraud or something. He’ll make good, I guess; I know, in -fact. He ain’t a bad fellow, and it would hurt him if this got printed.” - -I asked him for particulars; saw a reporter who had the story; learned -that the man was a sharp-dealer with a bad reputation, who had been -detected in an attempt to cheat a poor farmer out of $260—a bare-faced -fraud indeed. I learned that the man had long been suspected by public -opinion of semi-legal attempts to rob the “widow and the orphan,” and -that at last there was a chance of “showing him up.” I went back with a -bold face. - -“I find, though the case has not been tried, that the man is undoubtedly -guilty.” - -“Guilty?” said my advertiser. “What of that? He’ll settle.” - -“That hardly lessens the guilt.” I smiled. - -The clothing man looked astounded. “But if you print that he’ll be -ruined,” he sputtered. - -“From all I can learn, so much the better,” I answered. - -Then my man swore. “See here,” he said, when he got back to written -language. “He’s just making his living; you ain’t got no right to stop a -man’s earning his living. It ain’t none of any newspaper’s business. -Just a private affair between him and the farmer, and he’ll settle.” - -“I don’t see how,” I put in somewhat warmly, “it isn’t the business of a -newspaper to tell its public of a dangerous man, arrested for fraud, -caught in his own net so badly that he is willing to settle, as you -claim. It is my obvious duty to my constituents to print such a case. -From the news point of view—” I was going on smoothly, but he stepped up -and shook his fist in my face. - -“Constituents? Ain’t I a constituent? Don’t I pay your newspaper for -more advertising than any one else? Ain’t I your biggest constituent? -Say, young man, you’re too big for this town. Don’t try to bully me!” he -suddenly screamed. “Don’t you dare bully me! Don’t you dare try it. I -see what you want. You’re trying to blackmail me, you are; you’re trying -to work me for more advertising; you want money out of me. That game -don’t go; not with me it don’t. I’ll have you arrested.” - -And he talked as though he believed it! - -Then he said he’d never pay me another cent, might all manner of things -happen to his soul if he did. He’d go to the _Bulletin_, and double his -space. The man was his friend, and he had asked but a reasonable -request, and I had tried to blackmail him. He worked that blackmail in -every other sentence. Then he strode out, slamming the door. - -The “little item” was not printed in the _Herald_ (nor in the -_Bulletin_, more used to such requests), and, as he had said, he was my -biggest advertiser. It was my first experience with the advertiser with -a request: for this reason I have given the incident fully. It recurred -every week. I grew to think little of it soon. “Think of how his -children will feel,” say the friends of some one temporarily lodged in -the police station. “Think of what the children of some one this man -will swindle next will say,” is what I might answer. But I don’t,—not if -an advertiser requests otherwise. As I have grown to phrase the matter, -a newspaper is a contrivance which meets its pay-roll by selling space -to advertisers: render it therefore agreeable to those who make its -existence possible. Less jesuitically it may be put—the ultimate editor -of a small newspaper is the advertiser, the biggest advertiser is the -politician. This is a maxim that experience has ground with its heel -into the fabric of my soul. - -We all remember Emerson’s brilliantly un-New-England advice, “Hitch your -wagon to a star.” This saying is of no value to newspapers, for they -find stars poor motive power. Theoretically, it must be granted that -newspapers, of all business ventures, should properly be hitched to a -star. Yet I have found that, if any hitching is to be done, it must be -to the successful politician. Amending Mr. Emerson, I have found it the -best rule to “yoke your newspaper to the politician in power.” - -This, then, is what a small newspaper does: sells its space to the -advertiser, its policy to the politician. It is smooth sailing save when -these two forces conflict, and then Scylla and Charybdis were joys to -the heart. Let us look into the advertiser part of the business a bit -more closely. - -The advertiser seeks the large circulation. The biggest advertiser seeks -the cheapest people. Thus is a small newspaper (the shoe will pinch the -feet of the great as well) forced, in order to survive, to pander to the -Most Low. The man of culture does not buy $4.99 overcoats, the woman of -culture 27–cent slippers. The newspaper must see that it reaches those -who do. This is one of the saddest matters in the whole business. The -_Herald_ started with a circulation slightly over 2,000. I found that my -town was near enough to two big cities for the papers published there to -enter my field. I could not hope to rival their telegraphic features, -and I soon saw that, if the _Herald_ was to succeed, it must pay strict -attention to local news. My rival stole its telegraphic news bodily; I -paid for a service. The people seemed to care little for attempted -assassinations of the Shah, but they were intensely interested in -pinochle parties in the seventh ward. I gave them pinochle parties. -Still my circulation diminished. My rival regained all that I had taken -from him at the start. I wondered why, and compared the papers. I “set” -more matter than he. The great difference was that my headlines were -smaller and my editorial page larger than his. Besides, his tone was -much lower: he printed rumor, made news to deny it—did a thousand and -one things that kept his paper “breezy.” - -I put in bigger headlines—outdid him, in fact. I almost abolished my -editorial page, making of it an attempt to amuse, not to instruct. I -printed every little personality, every rumor that my staff could get -hold of in their tours. The result came slowly, but surely. Success came -when I exaggerated every little petty scandal, every row in a church -choir, every hint of a disturbance. I compromised four libel suits, and -ran my circulation up to 3,200 in eleven months. - -Then I formed some more conclusions. I evolved a newspaper law out of -the matter and the experience of some brothers in the craft in small -cities near by. Briefly, I stated it in this wise: The worse a paper is, -the more influence it has. To gain influence, be wholly bad. - -This is no paradox, nor does it reflect particularly upon the public. -There is reason for it in plenty. Take the ably edited paper, which -glories in its editorial page, in the clean exposition of an honest -policy, in high ideas put in good English, and you will find a paper -which has a small clientele in a provincial town; or, if it has readers, -it will have small influence. Say that it strikes the reader at -breakfast, and the person who has leisure to breakfast is the person who -has time for editorials, and the expression of that paper’s opinion is -carefully read. Should these opinions square with the preconceived ideas -of the reader, the editorials are “great”; if not, they are “rotten.” In -other words, the man who reads carefully written editorials is the man -whose opinion is formed—the man of culture, and therefore of prejudice. -Doubtless he is as well acquainted with conditions as the writer; -perhaps better acquainted. When a man does have opinions in a small -city, he is quite likely to have strong ones. A flitting editorial is -not the thing to change them. On the other hand, the man who has little -time to read editorials, or perhaps little inclination, is just the man -who might be influenced by them if read. Hence well-written editorials -on a small daily are wasted thunder in great part, an uneconomic -expenditure of force. - -When local politics are at fever-heat, a different aspect of affairs is -often seen: editorials are generally read, not so much as expressions of -opinion, but as party attack and defense. During periods of political -quiet the aim of most editorial pages is to amuse or divert. The -advertiser has noted the decadence of the editorial page, and as a -general thing makes a violent protest if the crying of his wares is made -to emanate from this poor, despised portion of the paper. An -advertisement on a local page is worth much more, and he pays more for -the privilege. - -So I learned another lesson. I shifted, as my successful contemporaries -have done, my centre of editorial gravity from its former high position -to my first and local pages. I now editorialize by suggestion. News now -carries its own moral, the bias I wish it to show. This requires no less -skill than the writing of editorials, and, greatly as I deplore it, I -find the results pleasing. Does the _Herald_ wish to denounce a public -official? Into a dozen articles is the venom inserted. Slyly, subtly, -and ofttimes openly do news articles point the obvious moral. The “Acqua -Tofana” of journalism is ready to be used when occasion demands, and -this is very often. Innuendo is common, the stiletto is inserted quietly -and without warning, and tactics a man would shun may be used by a -newspaper with little or no adverse comment. I mastered the philosophy -of the indirect. I gained my ends by carefully coloring my news to the -ends and policies of the paper. Nor am I altogether to blame. My paper -was supposed to have influence. When I wrote careful and patient -editorials, it had none. I saw that the public mind must be enfiladed, -ambushed, and I adopted those primary American tactics of Indian -warfare: shot from behind tree trunks, spared not the slain, and from -the covert of a news item sent out screeching savages upon the -unsuspecting public. Editorial warfare as conducted fifty years ago is -obsolete; its methods are as antiquated to-day as is the artillery of -that age. - - - III - -I have called the _Herald_ my own at different times in this article. I -conceived it, established it, built it up. It stands to-day as the -result of my work. True, my money was not the only capital it required, -but mine was the hand that reared it. I found, to my great chagrin, that -few people in the city considered me other than a hired servant of the -political organization that aided in establishing the _Herald_. It was -an “organ,” a something which stood to the world as the official -utterance of this political set. “Organs,” in newspaper parlance, -properly have but one function. Mine was evidently to explain or attack, -as the case might be. To the politicians who helped start the _Herald_ -the paper was a political asset. It could on occasion be a club or a -lever, as the situation demanded. I had been led to expect no personal -intrusion. “Just keep straight with the party” was all that was asked. -But never was constancy so unfaltering as that expected of the _Herald_. -It must not print this because it was true; it must print that because -it was untrue. - -I had been six months in the city, when I overheard a conversation in a -street car. “Oh, I’ll fix the _Herald_ all right. I know Johnny X,” said -one man. That was nice of Johnny X’s friend, I thought. The _Bulletin_ -accused me of not daring to print certain matters. I was ashamed, -humiliated. Between the friends of Johnny X and the friends of others, I -saw myself in my true light. Johnny X, by the way, a noisy ward -politician, owned just one share in the _Herald_; but that gave his -friends the right to ask him to “fix” it, nevertheless. - -I consulted with a wise man, a real leader, a man of experience and a -warm heart. He heard me and laughed, patting me on the shoulder to humor -me. “You want that printing, don’t you?” he asked. - -I admitted that I did. I had counted on it. - -“Then,” said my adviser, “I wouldn’t offend Johnny X, if I were you. He -controls the supervisor in his ward.” - -I began to see a great light, and I have needed no other illumination -since. This matter of public printing had been promised me. I knew it -was necessary. I saw that, inasmuch as it was given out by the lowest -politicians in the town, I escaped easily if I paid as my price the -indulgence of the various Johnnies X who had “influence.” I was the paid -supernumerary of the party, yet had to bear its mistakes and follies, -its weak men and their weaker friends, upon my poor editorial back. I -realized it from that moment; I should have seen it before. But for all -that, my cheeks burned for days, and my teeth set whenever I faced the -thought. I don’t mind it in the least now. - -So at the end of a year and a half I saw a few more things. I saw that -by being a good boy and adaptable to “fixing” I could earn thirty-five -dollars a week with less work than I could earn forty-five dollars in a -big city. I saw that the _Herald_ as a business proposition was a -failure; that is, it was not, even under the most advantageous -conditions, the money-maker that I at first thought it to be. I saw that -if the city grew, and if there were no more rivals, if there were a -hundred advantageous conditions, it might make several thousand dollars -a year, besides paying me a bigger salary. I was very much disheartened. -Then there came a turn. - -I saw the business part of the proposition very clearly. I must play in -with my owners, the party; and in turn my owners would support me nearly -as well when they were out of power as they could when ruling. Revenue -came from the city, the county, the state, all at “legal” rates. I began -to see why these “legal” rates were high, some five times higher than -those of ordinary advertising for such a paper as the _Herald_. The -state, when paying its advertising bill, must pay the _Herald_ five -times the rate any clothing advertiser could get. The reason is not -difficult to see. All over the state and country there are papers just -like the _Herald_, controlled by little cliques of politicians, who, too -miserly to support the necessary losses, make the people pay for them. -Any attempt to lower the legal rate in any state legislature would call -up innumerable champions of the “press,” gentlemen all interested in -their newspapers at home. The people pay more than a cent for their -penny papers. It is the tax-payer who supports a thousand and one -unnecessary “organs.” The politicians are wise, after all. - -So I got my perspective. I was paid to play the political game of -others. I had to play it supported by indirect bribes. As a straight -business proposition,—that is, without any state or city advertising, -tax sales, printing of the proceedings, and the like,—the _Herald_ could -not live out a year. But by refusing to say many things, and by saying -many more, I could get such share of these matters as would support the -paper. In my second year, near its close, I saw that I was really a -property, a chattel, a something bought and sold. I was being trafficked -with to my loss. My friends bought me with public printing, and sold me -for their own ends. I saw that they had the best of the bargain. - -I could do better without the middlemen. I determined to make my own -bargain with the devil for my own soul. It was a brilliant thought, but -a bitter one. I determined to be a Sir John Hawkwood, and sell my -editorial mercenaries to the highest bidder. Only the weak are -gregarious, I thought with Nietzsche. If I could not put a name upon my -actions, at least I could put a price. I made a loan, grabbed up some -_Herald_ stock cheaply, and owned at last over fifty per cent of my own -paper. Now, I thought, I will at least make money. - -I knew at just that time, that my own party, joined with the enemy, was -much interested in a contract the city was about to make with a lighting -company, a longterm contract at an exorbitant price. No opposition was -expected. The city council had been “seen,” the reformers silenced. I -knew some of the particulars. I knew that both parties were gaining at -the public expense, to their own profit and the tremendous profit of the -gas company. I, fearless in my new control, sent out a small editorial -feeler, a little suggestion about municipal ownership. This time my -editorial did have influence. No mango tree of an Indian juggler -blossomed quicker. I was called upon one hour after the paper was out. -What in the name of all unnamable did I mean? I laughed. I pointed out -the new holdings of stock I had acquired. What did the gentlemen mean? -They didn’t know—not then. - -I had a very pleasant call from the gas company’s attorney the next day. -He was a most agreeable fellow, a man of parts, assuredly. I, a -conscious chattel, would now appraise myself. I waited, letting the -pleasantry flow by in a gentle stream. By the way, suggested my new -friend, why didn’t I try for the printing of the gas company? It was -quite a matter. My friend was surprised that the _Herald_ had so -complete a job-printing plant. The gas company had all of its work done -out of town, at a high rate, he thought. He would use his influence, -etc., etc. Actually, I felt very important! All this to come out of a -little editorial on municipal ownership! The _Herald_ didn’t care for -printing so very much, I said. But I would think it over. - -The next day I followed up my municipal ownership editorial. It was my -answer. I waited for theirs. I waited in vain. I had overreached myself. -This was humiliation indeed, and it aroused every bit of ire and revenge -in me. I boldly launched out on a campaign against the dragon. I would -see if the “press” could be held so cheaply. I printed statistics of the -price of lighting in other cities. I exposed the whole scheme. I stood -for the people at last! My early fire came back. We would see: the -people and the _Herald_ against a throttling corporation and a gang of -corrupt aldermen. - -Then the other side got into the war. I went to the bank to renew a -note. I had renewed it a dozen times before. But the bank had seen the -Gorgon and turned to stone. I digged deep and met the note. A big law -firm which had given me all its business began to seek out the -_Bulletin_. One or two advertisers dropped out. Some unseen hand began -to foment a strike. Were the banks, the bar, and, worst of all, the -labor unions, in the pay of a gas company? It was exhilarating to be -with “the people,” but exhilaration does not meet pay-rolls. I may state -that I am now doing the gas company’s printing at a very fair rate. - -I saw that the policy was a good one, nevertheless. I also saw that it -could not be carried to the extreme. So I have become merely -threatening. I have learned never to overstep my bounds. I take my lean -years and my fat years, still a hireling, but having somewhat to say -about my market value. What provincial paper does not have the same -story to tell? - -My public doesn’t care for good writing. It has no regard for reason. -During one political campaign I tried reason. That is, I didn’t denounce -the adversary. Admitting he had some very good points, I showed why the -other man had better ones. The general impression was that the _Herald_ -had “flopped,” just because I did not abuse my party’s opponent, but -tried to defeat him with logic! A paper is always admired for its -backbone, and backbone is its refusal to see two sides to a question. - -I have reached the “masses.” I tell people what they knew beforehand, -and thus flatter them. Aiming to instruct them, I should offend. God is -with the biggest circulations, and we must have them, even if we appeal -to class prejudice now and then. - -I can occasionally foster a good work, almost underhandedly, it would -seem. I take little pleasure in it. The various churches, hospitals, the -library, all expect to be coddled indiscriminately and without returning -any thanks whatever. I formerly had as much railroad transportation as I -wished. I still have the magazines free of charge and a seat in the -theatre. These are my “perquisites.” There is no particular future for -me. The worst of it is that I don’t seem to care. The gradual falling -away from the high estate of my first editorial is a matter for the -student of character, which I am not. In myself, as in my paper, I see -only results. - - -I think these confessions are ample enough and blunt enough. When I left -the high school, I would have wished to word them in Stevensonian -manner. That was some time ago. We who run small dailies have little -care for the niceties of style. There are few of our clientele who know -the nice from the not-nice. In our smaller cities we “suicide” and -“jeopardize.” We are visited by “agriculturalists,” and “none of us are” -exempt from little iniquities and uniquities of style and expression. We -go right on: “commence” where we should “begin,” use “balance” for -“remainder,” never think of putting the article before “Hon.” and -“Rev.,” and some of us abbreviate “assemblyman” into “ass,” meaning -nothing but condensation. Events still “transpire” in our small cities, -and inevitably we “try experiments.” We have learned to write -“trousers,” and “gents” appears only in our advertisements. In common -with the very biggest and best papers we always say “leniency.” That I -do these things, the last coercion of environment, is the saddest, to -me, of all. - - - - - THE COUNTRY EDITOR OF TO-DAY - - BY CHARLES MOREAU HARGER - - - I - -Eulogies and laudatory paragraphs, alternating with sneers, ridicule, -and deprecations, long have been the lot of the country editor. Pictured -in the comic papers as an egotistic clown, exalted by the politicians as -a mighty “moulder of public opinion,” occasionally chastised by angry -patrons, and sometimes remembered by delighted subscribers, he has put -his errors where they could be read of all men and has modestly sought a -fair credit for his merits. - -At times he has rebelled—not at treatment from his constituency but at -patronizing remarks of the city journalist who sits at a mahogany desk -and dictates able articles for the eighteen-page daily, instead of -writing local items at a pine table in the office of a four-page weekly. -Thus did one voice his protest: “When you consider that the country -weekly is owned by its editor and that the man who writes the funny -things about country papers in the city journals is owned by the -corporation for which he writes, it doesn’t seem so sad. When you see an -item in the city papers poking fun at the country editor for printing -news about John Jones’ new barn, you laugh and laugh—for you know that -on one of the pages of that same city daily is a two-column story in -regard to the trimmings on the gowns of the Duchess of Wheelbarrow. And -it is all the more amusing because you know the duchess does not even -know of the existence of the aforesaid city paper, while John Jones and -many of his neighbors take and pay for the paper which mentioned his new -barn. Don’t waste your pity on the country newspaper worker. He will get -along.” - -Little money is needed to start a country paper. There are those who -claim that it does not require any money,—that it can be done on nerve -alone,—and they produce evidence to support the statement. True, some of -the editors who have the least money and the poorest plants are most -successful in their efforts to live up to the conception developed by -the professional humorist; but it is not fair to judge the country -editor by these—any more than it would be fair to judge the workers on -the great city dailies by the publishers of back-street fake sheets that -exist merely to rob advertisers; or to judge the editors of reputable -magazines by the promoters of nauseous monthlies whose stock in trade is -a weird and sickening collection of mail-order bargains and quack -medicine advertisements. - -The country editor of to-day is far removed from his prototype of two or -three decades ago. It would be strange if an age that gives to the -farmer his improved self-binder, to the physician his X-ray machine, and -to the merchant his loose-leaf ledger, had done nothing for the town’s -best medium of publicity. The perfection of stereotype plate manufacture -by which a page of telegraph news may be delivered ready for printing at -a cost of approximately twenty cents a column, and the elaboration of -the “ready print,” or “patent inside,” by which half the paper is -printed before delivery, yet at practically no expense over the -unprinted sheets, have been the two great labor-savers for the country -editor. Thereby he is relieved, if he desire, of the tedious and -expensive task of setting much type in order to give the world’s general -news, and the miscellaneous matter that “fills up” the paper. His -energies then may be devoted to reporting the happenings of his locality -and to giving his opinions on public affairs. By his doing of these, and -by his relations toward the public interests, is he to be judged. - -After all, no one man in the community has so large an opportunity to -assist the town in advancement as the editor. It is not because he is -smarter than others, not because he is wealthy—but because he is the -spokesman to the outside world. - -He is eager to print all the news in his own paper. Does he do it? -Hardly. “This would be a very newsy paper,” explained a frank country -editor to his subscribers, “were it not for the fact that each of the -four men who work on it has many friends. By the time all the items that -might injure some of their friends are omitted, very little is left.” - -“I wish you would print a piece about our schoolteacher,” said a -farmer’s wife to me one afternoon. “Say that she is the best teacher in -the county.” - -“But I can’t do that—two hundred other teachers would be angry. You -write the piece, sign it, and I’ll print it.” - -“What are you running a newspaper for if you can’t please your -subscribers?” she demanded—and canceled her subscription. - -So the country editor leaves out certain good things and certain bad -things for the very simple reason that the persons most interested are -close at hand and can find the individual responsible for the -statements. He becomes wise in his generation and avoids chastisements -and libel suits. He finds that there is no lasting regard in a sneer, no -satisfaction in gratifying the impulse to say things that bring tears to -women’s eyes, nothing to gloat over in opening a wound in a man’s heart. -If he does not learn this as he grows older in the service, he is a poor -country editor. - -His relations to his subscribers are intimate. There is little mystery -possible about the making of the paper; it is as if he stood in the -market-place and told his story. Of course, the demands upon him are -many and some of them preposterous. Men with grafts seek to use the -paper, people with schemes ask free publicity. The country editor is -criticised for charging for certain items that no city paper prints -free. The churches and lodges want free notices of entertainments by -which they hope to make money; semi-public entertainments prepared under -the management of a traveling promoter ask free advertising “for the -good of the cause.” Usually they get it, and when the promoter passes -on, the editor is found to be the only one in town who received nothing -for his labor. - -It is characteristic of the country town to engage in community -quarrels. These absorb the attention of the citizens, and feeling -becomes bitter. The cause may be trifling: the location of a -schoolhouse, the building of a bridge, the selection of a justice of the -peace, or some similar matter, is enough. To the newspaper office hurry -the partisans, asking for _ex parte_ reports of the conditions. One -leader is, perhaps, a liberal advertiser; to offend him means loss of -business. Another is a personal friend; to anger him means the loss of -friendship. The editor of the only paper in the town must be a diplomat -if he is to guide safely through the channel. In former times he tried -to please both sides and succeeded in making enemies of every one -interested. Now the well-equipped editor takes the position that he is a -business man like the others, that he has rights as do they, and he -states the facts as he sees them, regardless of partisanship, letting -the public do the rest. If there be another paper in town, the problem -is easy, for the other faction also has an “organ.” - -Out of the public’s disagreement may come a newspaper quarrel—though -this is a much rarer thing than formerly. The old-time country newspaper -abuse of “our loathed but esteemed contemporary” is passing away, it -being understood that such a quarrel, with personalities entangled in -the recriminations, is both undignified and ungentlemanly. “But people -will read it,” says the man who by gossip encourages these attacks. So -will people listen to a coarse street controversy carried on in a loud -and angry tone,—but little is their respect for the principals engaged. -Country editors of the better class now treat other editors as -gentlemen, and the paper that stoops to personal attacks is seldom -found. Many a town has gone for years without other than kindly mention -in any paper of the editors of the other papers, and in such towns you -will generally find peace and courtesy among the citizens. - -Of course, there are politics and political arguments, but few are the -editors so lacking in the instincts of a gentleman as to bring into -these the opposing editor’s personal and family affairs. It has come to -be understood that such action is a reflection on the one who does it, -not on the object of his attack. This is another way of saying that more -real gentlemen are running country newspapers to-day than ever before. -This broadening of character has broadened influence. The country paper -is effecting greater things in legislation than the county conventions -are. - -“The power of the country press in Washington surprises me,” said a -Middle West congressman last winter. “During my two terms I have been -impressed with it constantly. I doubt if there is a single calm -utterance in any paper in the United States that does not carry some -weight in Washington among the members of Congress. You might think that -what some little country editor says does not amount to anything, but it -means a great deal more than most people realize. When the country -editor, who is looking after nothing but the county printing, gives -expression to some rational idea about a national question, the man off -here in Congress knows that it comes from the grass-roots. The lobby, -the big railroad lawyers, and that class of people, realize the power of -the press, but they hate it. I have heard them talk about it and shake -their heads and say, ‘Too much power there!’ The press is more powerful -than money.” - -This was not said in flattery, but because he had seen on congressmen’s -desks the heaps of country weeklies, and he knew how closely they were -read. The smallest editorial paragraph tells the politician of the -condition in that paper’s community, for he knows that it is put there -because the editor has gathered the idea from some one whom he trusts as -a leader—and the politician knows approximately who that leader is. So -the country editor often exerts a power of which he knows little. - - - II - -But politics is only a part of the country editor’s life. The social -affairs of the community are nearest to him. The proud father who brings -in a cigar with a notice of the seventh baby’s arrival (why cigars and -babies should be associated in men’s minds I never understood), the -fruit farmer who presents some fine Ben Davis apples in the expectation -that he will get a notice, are but types. The editor may have some -doubts concerning the need of a seventh child in the family of the proud -father, and he may not be particularly fond of Ben Davis apples; but he -gives generous notices because he knows that the gifts were prompted by -kind hearts and that the givers are his friends. - -When joy comes to the household, it is but the working of the heart’s -best impulses to desire that all should share it. The news that the -princess of the family has, after many years of waiting, wedded a -prosperous merchant of the neighboring county, brings the family into -prominence in the home paper. Seldom in these busy times does the editor -get a piece of wedding-cake, but nevertheless he fails not to say that -the bride is “one of our loveliest young ladies and the groom is worthy -of the prize he has won.” The city paper does not do that. Here and -there a country editor tries to put on city airs and give the bare facts -of “social functions,” without a personal touch to the lines. But -infrequently does he succeed in reaching the hearts of his readers, and -somehow he finds that his contemporary across the street, badly printed, -sprinkled with typographical errors and halting in its grammar, but -profuse in its laudations, is getting an unusual number of new -subscribers. Even you, though you may pretend to be unmindful, are not -displeased when on the day after your party you read that the guests -“went home feeling that a good time had been had.” - -The time has not yet come for the country paper to assume city airs; nor -is it likely to arrive for many years. The reason is a psychological -one. The city journal is the paper of the masses; the country weekly or -small daily is the paper of the neighborhood. One is general and -impersonal; the other, direct and intimate. One is the market-place; the -other, the home. The distinction is not soon to be wiped out. - -And when sorrow comes! Into the home of a city friend of mine death -entered, taking the wife and mother. The family had been prominent in -social circles, and columns were printed in the city papers, columns of -cold, biographical facts—born, married, died. But the news went back to -the small country town where in their early married life the husband and -wife had spent many happy years, and in the little country weekly was -quite another sort of story. It told how much her friends loved her, how -saddened they were by her passing away, how sweet and womanly had been -her character. The husband did not send the city papers to distant -acquaintances; he sent copy after copy of the little country weekly, the -only place where, despite his prominence in the world, appeared a -sympathetic relation of the loss that had come to him. - -Week after week the country paper does this. From issue after issue -clippings are stowed away in bureau drawers or pasted in family Bibles, -because they picture the loved one gone. It may not be a very high -mission; but no part of the country editor’s work has in it more of -satisfaction and recompense. - -After the funeral comes the real test of the editor’s good-nature. Long -resolutions adopted by lodges and church organizations are handed in for -publication, each bristling with the forms of ritual or creed, and each -signed with the names of the committee members upon whom devolved the -task of composition. A few country editors are brave enough to demand -payment at advertising rates for these publications; generally they are -printed without charge. - -Nor is there a halt at this step in the proceeding. One day a sad-faced -farmer, with a heavy band of crape around his battered soft hat, -accompanied by a woman whose heavy veil and black dress are sufficient -insignia of woe, comes to the office. - -“We would like to put in a ‘card of thanks,’” begins the man, “and we -wish you would write it for us. We ain’t very good at writing pieces, -and you know how.” - -Does the editor tell them how bad is the taste that indulges the -stereotyped card of thanks? Does he haughtily refuse to be a party to -such violation of form’s canons? Scarcely. He knows the formula by heart -and “the kind friends and neighbors who assisted us in our late -bereavement” comes to him as easily as the opening words of a mayor’s -proclamation. - -Occasionally there is literary talent in the family, and the “card” is -prepared without the editor’s assistance. Here is one verbatim as it -came to the desk:— - -“We extend our thanks to the good people who assisted us in the sickness -and death of our wife and daughter: The doctor who was so faithful in -attendance and effort to bring her back to health, the pastor who -visited and prayed with her and us, the students who watched with us and -waited on her, the neighbors who did all they could in helping care for -her, the dormitory students, the faculty, the literary societies and the -A.O.U.W. who furnished such beautiful flowers, we thank them all. Then -the undertaker who was so kind, the liveryman and other friends who -furnished carriages for us to go to the cemetery—yes, we thank you all.” - -Doubtless he feels that he should do something toward conserving the -best taste in social usage, and that the “card of thanks” should be -ruthlessly frowned down; but he sees also the other side. It is -unquestionably prompted by a spirit of sincere gratitude, and survives -as a concession to a supposed public opinion. Like other things that are -self-perpetuating, this continues—and the country editor out of the -goodness of his heart assists in its longevity. In no path is the -progress of the reformer so difficult as in that of social custom; and -this is as true on the village street as on the city boulevard. - - - III - -The past half-decade has brought to the country editor a new problem and -a new rival,—the rural delivery route. Until this innovation came, few -farmers took daily papers. The country weekly, or the weekly from the -city, furnished the news. - -Out in the Middle West the other morning, a dozen miles from town, a -farmer rode on a sulky plough turning over brown furrows for the new -crop. “I see by to-day’s Kansas City papers,” he began, as a visitor -came alongside, “that there is trouble in Russia again.” “What do you -know about what is in to-day’s Kansas City papers?” “Oh, we got them -from the carrier an hour ago.” - -It was not yet noon, but he was in touch with the world’s news up to one -o’clock that morning—and this twelve miles from a railroad and two -hundred miles west of the Missouri River! In that county every farmhouse -has rural delivery of mail; and one carrier makes his round in an -automobile, covering the thirty miles in four hours or less. - -The country editor has viewed with alarm this changing condition. He has -feared that he would be robbed of his subscribers through the familiar -excuse, “I’m takin’ more papers than I can read.” But nothing of the -kind has happened. Although the rural carriers take each morning great -packages of daily papers, brought to the village by the fast mail, the -people along the routes are as eager as ever for the weekly visit of the -home paper. If by accident one copy is missing from the carrier’s supply -on Thursday, great is the lamentation. It is doubtful if a single -country paper has been injured by the rural route; in most instances the -reading habit has been so stimulated as to increase the patronage. - -This it has done: it has impressed on the editor the necessity of giving -much attention to home news and less to the happenings afar. This is, -indeed, the province of the country paper, since it is of the home and -the family, not of the market-place. This feature will grow, and the -country paper will become more a chronicle of home news and less a -purveyor of outside happenings, for soon practically every farmer will -have his daily paper with the regularity of the sunrise. On the whole, -instead of being an injury this is helpful to the rural publisher; it -relieves him of responsibility for a broad field of information and -allows him to devote his energy to that news which gives the greatest -hold on readers,—the doings of the immediate community. With this will -come more generally the printing of the entire paper at home and the -decline of the “patent inside,” now so common, which has served its -purpose well. If it exist, it will be in a modified form, devoted -chiefly to readable articles of a literary rather than of a news value. - -The city daily may give the telegraph news of the world in quicker and -better service, the mail-order house may occasionally undersell the home -merchant, the glory of the city’s lights may dazzle; but, at the end of -the week, home and home institutions are best; so only one publication -gives the news we most wish to know,—the country paper. The city -business man throws away his financial journal and his yellow “extra,” -and tears open the pencil-addressed home paper that brings to him -memories of new-mown hay and fallow fields and boyhood. Regardless of -its style, its grammar, or its politics, it holds its reader with a grip -that the city editor may well envy. - -In these times the country editor is, like the publisher of the city, a -business man. Scores of offices of country weeklies within two hundred -miles of the Rockies (which is about as far inland as we can get -nowadays) have linotypes or type-setting machines, run the presses with -an electric motor, and give the editor an income of three thousand -dollars or more a year for labor that allows many a vacation day. The -country editor gets a good deal out of life. He lives well; he travels -much; he meets the best people of his state; and, if he be inclined, he -can accomplish much for his own improvement. Added to this is the joy of -rewarding the honorable, decent people of the town with good words and -helpful publicity, and the satisfaction of seeing that the rascals get -their dues,—and get them they do if the editor lives and the rascals -live, for in the country town the editor’s turn always comes. It may be -long delayed, but it arrives. If he use his power with honesty and -intelligence, he can do much good for the community. - -In the opinion of some this danger threatens: the increased rapidity of -transportation, the multitude of fast trains, and the facilities for -placing the big city papers within a zone of one hundred miles of the -office of publication, mean the large representation of particular -localities, or even the establishment of editions devoted to them. The -city paper tries to absorb the local patronage through the competent -correspondent who practically edits certain columns or pages of the -journal. In the thickly settled East this is more successful than in the -West, where distance helps the local paper. But the zone is widening -with every improvement in transportation of mails, and soon few sections -of the country will be outside the possibilities of some city paper’s -enterprise in this direction. - -When this happens, will the local weekly go out of existence and its -subscribers be attached to the big city paper whose facilities for -getting news and whose enterprise in reaching the uttermost parts of the -world far outstrip the slow-going weekly’s best efforts? It is not -likely. The county-seat weekly to-day, with its energetic correspondent -in the town of Centreville, adds to its list in that section because it -gives the news fully and crisply; but it does not drive out of business -the Centreville _Palladium_, whose editor has a personal acquaintance -with every subscriber and who caters to the home pride of the community. -It is probable that the _Palladium_ will be more enterprising and will -devote more attention to the doings of the dwellers in Centreville in -order to keep abreast with the competition; but it cannot be driven out, -nor its editor forced from his position by dearth of business. The life -of a forceful paper is long. One such paper was sold and its name -changed eighteen years ago; yet letters and subscriptions still are -addressed to the old publication. A hold like that on a community’s life -cannot be broken by competition. - - - IV - -The evolution of the country weekly into the country daily is becoming -easier as telephone and telegraph become cheaper, and transportation -enables publishers to secure at remote points a daily “plate” service -that includes telegraph news up to a few hours of the time of -publication. The publishing of an Associated Press daily, which twenty -years ago always attended a town’s boom and generally resulted in the -suspension of a bank or two and the financial ruin of several families, -has become simplified until it is within reach of modest means. - -Instead of the big city journals extending their sway to crush out the -country paper, it is more probable that the country papers will take on -some of the city’s airs, and that, with the added touch of personal -familiarity with the people and their affairs, the country editor will -become a greater power than in the past. For it is recognized to-day -that the publication of a paper is a business affair and not a matter of -faith or revenge. If the publication be not a financial success, it is -not much of a success of any kind. - -The old-time editor who prided himself on his powers of vituperation, -who thundered through double-leaded columns his views on matters of -world-importance and traded space for groceries and dry goods, has few -representatives to-day. The wide-awake, clean-cut, well-dressed young -men, paying cash for their purchases and demanding cash for advertising, -alert to the business and political movements that make for progress, -and taking active part in the interests of the town, precisely as though -they were merchants or mechanics, asking no favors because of their -occupation, are taking their places. This sort of country editor is -transforming the country paper and is making of it a business enterprise -in the best sense of the term,—something it seldom was under the old -régime. - -This eulogy is one often quoted by the country press: “Every year every -local paper gives from five hundred to five thousand lines for the -benefit of the community in which it is located. No other agency can or -will do this. The editor, in proportion to his means, does more for his -town than any other man. To-day editors do more work for less pay than -any men on earth.” - -Like other eulogies it has in it something of exaggeration. It assumes -the country editor to be a philanthropist above his neighbors. The new -type of country editor makes no such claim. To be sure, he prints many -good things for the community’s benefit,—but he does it because he is a -part of the community. What helps the town helps him. His neighbor, the -miller, would do as much; his other neighbor, the hardware man, is as -loyal and in his way works as hard for the town’s upbuilding. In other -words, the country editor of to-day assumes no particular virtue because -his capital is invested in printing-presses, paper, and a few thousand -pieces of metal called type. He does realize that because of his -avocation he is enabled to do much for good government, for progress, -and for the betterment of his community. Unselfishly and freely he does -this. He starts movements that bring scoundrels to terms, that place -flowers where weeds grew before, that banish sorrow and add to the -world’s store of joy; but he does not presume that because of this he -deserves more credit than his fellow business men. He is indeed fallen -from grace who makes a merit of doing what is decent and honest and -fair. - -It is often remarked that the ambition of the country editor is to -secure a position on a city paper. I have had many city newspapermen -confide to me that their fondest hope was to save enough money to buy a -country weekly in a thriving town. At first thought it would seem that -the city journalist would fail in the new field, having been educated in -a vastly different atmosphere and being unacquainted with the conditions -under which the country editor must make friends and secure business. -But two of the most successful newspapers of my acquaintance are edited -by men who served their apprenticeship on city dailies, and finally -realized their heart’s desire and bought country weeklies in prosperous -communities. They are not only making more money than ever before, but -both tell me that they have greater happiness than came in the old days -of rush, hurry, and excitement. - -So long as a country paper can be issued without the expenditure of more -than a few hundred dollars, so long as the man with ambition and money -can satisfy his desire to “edit,” the country paper will be fruitful of -jocose remarks by the city journalist. There will be columns of odd -reprint from the backwoods of Arkansas, and queer combinations of -grammar and egotism from the Egypt of Illinois. The exchange editor will -find in his rural mail much food for humorous comment, but he will not -find characterizing the country editor a lack of independence, or a lack -of ability to look out for himself. The country editor is doing very -well, and the trend of his business affairs is in the direction of -better financial returns and wider influence. He is a greater power now -than ever before in his history, and he will become more influential as -the years go by. He will not be controlled by a syndicate, or modeled -after a machine-made pattern, but will exert his individuality wherever -he may be. - -The country editor of to-day is coming into his own. He asks fewer -favors and brings more into the store of common good. He does not ask -eulogies nor does he resent fair criticisms; he is content to be judged -by what he is and what he has accomplished. As the leader of the hosts -must hold his place by the consent of his followers, so must the town’s -spokesman prove his worth. Closest to the people, nearest to their home -life, its hopes and its aspirations, the country editor is at the -foundation of journalism. Here and there is a weak and inefficient -example; but in the main he measures up to as high a standard as does -any class of business men in the nation,—and it is as a business man -that he prefers to be classed. - - - - - SENSATIONAL JOURNALISM AND THE LAW - - BY GEORGE W. ALGER - - - I - -So much has been said in recent years concerning the methods and -policies of sensational journalism that a further word upon a topic so -hackneyed would seem almost to require an explanation or an apology. -Current criticism, however, for the most part, has been confined to only -one of its many characteristics,—its bad taste and its vulgarizing -influence on its readers by daily offenses against the actual, though as -yet ideal, right of privacy, by its arrogant boastfulness, mawkish -sentimentality, and a persistent and systematic distortion of values in -events. - -This, the most noticeable feature of yellow journalism, is indicative -rather of its character than of its purpose. In considering, however, -the present subject,—sensational journalism in its relation to the -making, enforcing, and interpreting of law,—we enter a different field, -that of the conscious policies and objects with and for which these -papers are conducted. The main business of a newspaper as defined by -journalists of the old school is the collection and publication of news -of general interest coupled with editorial comment upon it. The old-time -editor was a ruminative and critical observer of public events. This -definition of the functions of a newspaper was long ago scornfully cast -aside as absurdly antiquated and insufficient to include the myriad -circulation-making enterprises of yellow journalism. These papers are -not simply purveyors of news and comment, but have what, for lack of a -better term, may be called constructive policies of their own. In the -making of law, for example, not content with mere criticism of -legislators and their measures, the new journalism conceives and -exploits measures of its own, drafted by its own counsel, and introduced -as legislative bills by statesmen to whom flattering press notices and -the publication of an occasional blurred photograph are a sufficient -reward. Not infrequently measures thus conceived and drafted are -supported by specially prepared “monster petitions,” containing -thousands of names, badly written and of doubtful authenticity, of -supposed partisans, and by special trains filled with orators and a -heterogeneous rabble described in the news columns as “committees of -citizens,” who at critical periods are collected together and turned -loose upon the assembled lawmakers as an impressive object lesson of the -public interest fervidly aroused on behalf of the newspaper’s bill. - -The ethics of persuasion is an interesting subject. It falls, however, -outside the scope of this article. It is impossible to lay down any hard -and fast rule by which to determine in all cases what form of newspaper -influence is legitimate and what illegitimate. The most obvious -characteristic of yellow journalism in its relation to lawmaking is that -it prefers ordinarily to obtain its ends by the use of intimidation -rather than by persuasion. The monster petition scheme just referred to -is merely one illustrative expression of this preference. When a -newspaper of this type is interested in having some official do some -particular thing in some particular way, it spends little of its space -or time in attempting to show the logical propriety or necessity for the -action it desires. It seeks first and foremost to make the official see -that _the eyes of the people are on him_, and that any action by him -contrary to that which the newspaper assures him the people want would -be fraught with serious personal consequences. The principal point with -these papers is always “the people demand” (in large capitals) this or -that, and the logic or reason of the demand is obscured or ignored. It -is the headless Demos transformed into printer’s ink. If by any chance -any official, so unfortunate as to have ideas of his own as to how his -office should be conducted, proves obdurate to the demands of the -printed voice of the people, he becomes the target for newspaper -attacks, calculated to destroy any reputation he may previously have had -for intelligence, sobriety of judgment, or public efficiency, his -tormentor, so far as libel is concerned, keeping, however, as Fabian -says, “on the windy side of the law.” - -An amusing illustration of this kind of warfare occurred in New York -some years ago, when for several weeks one of these newspapers published -daily attacks upon the President of the Board of Police Commissioners, -because he refused to follow the newspaper theories of the proper way of -enforcing, or rather not enforcing, the Excise Law. The newspaper took -the position that, while the powers of the Police Department were being -largely turned to ferreting out saloon-keepers who were keeping open -after hours or on Sundays, the detection of serious crimes was being -neglected, and that a “carnival of crime,” to use the picturesque -wording of its headlines, was being carried on in the city. Finally, in -one of its issues the paper published a list of thirty distinct criminal -offenses of the most serious character,—murder, felonious assault, -burglary, grand larceny, and the like,—all alleged to have been -committed within a week, in none of which, it asserted, had any criminal -been captured or any stolen property recovered. Events which followed -immediately upon this last publication showed that the newspaper had -erred grievously in its estimate of this particular official under -attack. A few days later the Police Commissioner, Mr. Roosevelt, -published in the columns of all the other newspapers in New York the -result of his own personal investigation of these thirty items of -criminal news, showing conclusively that twenty-eight of them were -canards pure and simple, and that in the remaining two police activity -had brought about results of a most satisfactory kind. Following this -statement of the facts was appended an adaptation of some fifteen or -twenty lines from Macaulay’s merciless essay on Barrère,—perhaps the -finest philippic against a notorious and inveterate liar which the -English language affords,—so worded that they should apply, not only to -the newspaper which published this spurious list of alleged crimes, but -to the editor and proprietor personally. The carnival of crime ended at -once. - -It is, of course, impossible to determine accurately the extent of -newspaper influence upon legislation and the conduct of public officials -by these systematic attempts at bullying. Making all due allowance, -however, there have been within recent years many significant -illustrations of the influence of yellow journalism upon the shaping of -public events. Mr. Creelman is quite right in saying, as he does in his -interesting book, _On the Great Highway_, that the story of the Spanish -war is incomplete which overlooks the part that yellow journalism had in -bringing it on. He tells us that, some time prior to the commencement of -hostilities, a well-known artist, who had been sent to Cuba as a -representative of one of these papers and had there grown tired of -inaction, telegraphed his chief that there was no prospect of war, and -that he wished to come home. The reply he received was characteristic of -the journalism he represented: “You furnish the pictures, we will -furnish the war.” It is characteristic because the new journalism aims -to direct rather than to influence, and seeks, to an extent never -attempted or conceived by the journalism it endeavors so strenuously to -supplant, to create public sentiment rather than to mould it, to make -measures and find men. - -The larger number of the readers of the great sensational newspapers -live at or near the place of publication, where the half-dozen daily -editions can be placed in their hands hot from the press. The news -furnished in them is, for the most part, of distinctively local -interest. In their columns the horizon is narrow and inexpressibly -dingy. Detailed narrations of sensational local happenings, preferably -crimes and scandals, are given conspicuous places, while more important -events occurring outside the city limits are treated with telegraphic -brevity. These papers constitute beyond question the greatest -provincializing influence in metropolitan life. - -The particular local functions of sensational journalism which bring it -in close relation to the courts result from its self-imposed -responsibilities as detective and punisher of crime and as director of -municipal officials. So far as the latter are concerned, yellow -journalism has apparently a good record. Many recent instances might, -for example, be cited where these newspapers, acting under the names of -“dummy” plaintiffs, have sought and obtained preliminary or temporary -injunctions against threatened official malfeasance, or where they have -instituted legal proceedings to expose corrupt jobbery. As to the actual -results thus accomplished, other than the publicity obtained, the -general public is not in a position to judge. Temporary injunctions -granted merely until the merits of the case can be heard and determined -are of no particular value if, when the trial day comes, the newspaper -plaintiff fails to appear, the case is dismissed, and the temporary -injunction vacated. On such occasions, and they are more frequent than -the general public is aware, the newspaper takes little pains to inform -its readers of the final results of the matter over which it made such -hue and cry months before. - -But, however fair-minded persons may differ as to the results actually -obtained by these newspaper law enterprises in the civil courts, there -is less room for difference of opinion as to the methods with which they -are conducted. They are almost invariably so managed as to convey to the -minds of their readers the idea that the decision obtained, if a -favorable one, has not come as the result of a just rule of law laid -down by a wise and fair-minded judge, but has been obtained rather in -spite of both law and judge, and wholly because a newspaper of enormous -circulation, championing the cause of the people, has wrested the law to -its clamorous authority. The attitude of mind thus created is well -exemplified in a remark made to me by a business man of more than -ordinary intelligence, in discussing an injunction granted in one of -these newspaper suits arising out of a water scandal: “Why, of course -Judge ——— granted the injunction. Everybody knew he would. There is not -a judge on the bench who would have the nerve to decide the other way -with all the row the newspapers have made about it. He knows where his -bread is buttered.” - - - II - -One of the great features of counting-house journalism is its real or -supposed ability in the detection and punishment of crime. Whether this -field is a legitimate one for a newspaper to enter need not be discussed -here. It goes without saying that an interesting murder mystery sells -many papers, and if as a result of skillful detective work the guilty -party is finally brought to the gallows or the electric chair, it is a -triumph for the paper whose reporters are the sleuths. While such -efforts, when crowned with success, are the source probably of much -credit and revenue, there are various disagreeable possibilities -connected with failure which the astute managers of these papers can -never afford to overlook. While verdicts in libel suits are in this -country generally small (compared with those in England), and the libel -law itself is filled with curious and antiquated technicalities by which -verdicts may be avoided or reversed, nevertheless there is always the -possibility that an innocent victim of newspaper prosecution will turn -the tables and draw smart money from the enterprising journal’s coffers. -The acquittal of the person who has been thrust into jeopardy by -newspaper detectives is obviously a serious matter for the paper. On the -other hand, there are no important consequences from conviction except, -of course, to the person condemned. Is it to be expected that the -newspaper, under such circumstances, will preserve a disinterested and -impartial tone in its news columns while the man in the dock is fighting -for his life before the judge and jury? Is it remarkable that during the -course of such a trial the newspaper should fill its pages with ghastly -cartoons of the defendant, with murder drawn in every line of his face, -or that it should by its reports of the trial itself seek to impress its -readers with his guilt before it be proved according to law? that it -should send its reporters exploring for new witnesses for the -prosecution, and should publish in advance of their appearance on the -witness stand the substance of the damaging testimony it is claimed they -will give? that it should go even further, and (as was recently shown in -the course of a great poisoning case in New York City, the history of -which forms a striking commentary on all these abuses) actually pay -large sums of money to induce persons to make affidavits incriminating -the defendant on trial? - -Unfortunately, too often these efforts receive aid from prosecuting -officers whose sense of public duty is impaired or destroyed by the itch -for reputation and a cheap and tawdry type of forensic triumph. -Despicable enough is the district attorney who grants interviews to -newspaper reporters during the progress of a criminal trial, and who -makes daily statements to them of what he intends to prove on the morrow -unless prevented by the law as expounded by the trial judge. A careful -study of the progress of more than one great criminal trial in New York -City would show how illegal and improper matter prejudicial to the -person accused of crime has been ruled out by the trial court, only to -have the precise information spread about in thousands upon thousands of -copies of sensational newspapers, with a reasonable certainty of their -scare headlines, at least, being read by some of the jury. - -The pernicious influence of these journals upon the courts of justice in -criminal trials (and not merely in the comparatively small number in -which they are themselves the instigators of the criminal proceedings) -is that they often make fair play an impossibility. The days and weeks -that are now not infrequently given to selecting jurors in important -criminal cases are spent in large measure by counsel in examining -talesmen in an endeavor to find, if possible, twelve men in whose minds -the accused has not been already “tried by newspaper” and condemned or -acquitted. When the public feeling in a community is such that it will -be impossible for a party to an action to obtain an unprejudiced jury, a -change of venue is allowed to some other county where the state of the -public mind is more judicial. It is a significant fact that nearly all -applications for such change in the place of trial from New York City -have been for many years based mainly upon complaints of the -inflammatory zeal of the sensational press. - -The courts in Massachusetts (where judges are not elected by the people, -but are appointed by the governor) have been very prompt in dealing in a -very wholesome and summary way with editors of papers publishing matter -calculated to affect improperly the fairness of jury trials. Whether it -be from better principles or an inspiring fear of jail, the courts of -public justice in that state receive little interference from -unwarranted newspaper stories. Some of the cases in which summary -punishment has been meted out from the bench to Massachusetts editors -will impress New York readers rather curiously. For example, just before -the trial of a case involving the amount of compensation the owner of -land should receive for his land taken for a public purpose, a newspaper -in Worcester informed its readers that “the town offered Loring [the -plaintiff] $80 at the time of the taking, but he demanded $250, and not -getting it, went to law.” Another paper published substantially the same -statement, and both were summarily punished by fine, the court holding -that these articles were calculated to obstruct the course of justice, -and that they constituted contempt of court. During the trial of a -criminal prosecution in Boston a few years ago against a railway -engineer for manslaughter in wrecking his train, the editor of the -_Boston Traveler_ intimated editorially that the railway company was -trying to put the blame on the engineer as a scapegoat, and that the -result of the trial would probably be in his favor. The editor was -sentenced to jail for this publication. The foregoing are undoubtedly -extreme cases, and are chosen simply to show the extent to which some -American courts will go in punishing newspaper contempts. All of these -decisions were taken on appeal to the highest court of the state and -were there affirmed. The California courts have been equally vigorous in -several cases of recent years, notably in connection with publications -made during the celebrated Durant murder trial in San Francisco. - -The English courts are, if anything, even more severe in this class of -cases, a recent decision of the Court of King’s Bench being a noteworthy -illustration. During the trial of two persons for felony, the “special -crime investigator” of the _Bristol Weekly Dispatch_ sent to his paper -reports, couched in a fervid and sensational form, containing a number -of statements relating to matters as to which evidence would not have -been admissible in any event against the defendants on their trial, and -reflecting severely on their characters. Both of the defendants referred -to were convicted of the crime for which they were indicted, and -sentenced to long terms of imprisonment. Shortly after their conviction -and sentence the editor of the _Dispatch_ and this special crime -investigator were prosecuted criminally for perverting the course of -justice, and each of them was sentenced to six weeks in prison. Lord -Alverstone, who rendered the opinion on the appeal taken by the editor -and reporter, in affirming the judgment of conviction, expresses himself -in language well worth repeating. He says:[8]— - -Footnote 8: - - 1 K. B. (1902), 77.—G. W. A. - -“A person accused of crime in this country can properly be convicted in -a court of justice only upon evidence which is legally admissible, and -which is adduced at his trial in legal form and shape. Though the -accused be really guilty of the offense charged against him, the due -course of law and justice is nevertheless perverted and obstructed if -those who have to try him are induced to approach the question of his -guilt or innocence with minds into which prejudice has been instilled by -published assertions of his guilt, or imputations against his life and -character to which the laws of the land refuse admission as evidence.” - -In the state of New York the courts have permitted themselves to be -deprived of the greater portion of the power which the courts of -Massachusetts, in common with those of most of the states, exercise of -punishing for contempt the authors of newspaper publications prejudicial -to fair trials. Some twenty-five years ago the state legislature passed -an act defining and limiting the cases in which summary punishment for -contempt should be inflicted by the courts. Similar legislation has been -attempted in other states, only to be declared unconstitutional by the -courts themselves, which hold that the power to punish is inherent in -the judiciary independently of legislative authority, and that, as the -Supreme Court of Ohio says, “The power the legislature does not give, it -cannot take away.” But while the courts of Ohio, Virginia, Georgia, -Indiana, Kentucky, Arkansas, Colorado, and California have thus resisted -legislative encroachment upon their constitutional powers, the highest -court of New York has submitted to having its power to protect its own -usefulness and dignity shorn and curtailed by the legislature. The -result is that while by legislative permission they may punish the -editor or proprietor of a paper for contempt, it can be _only_ when the -offense consists in publishing “a false or grossly inaccurate report of -a judicial proceeding.” The insufficiency of such a power is apparent -when one considers that the greater number of the cartoons and comments -contained in publications fairly complained of as prejudicing individual -legal rights are not, and do not pretend to be, reports of judicial -proceedings at all, but are entirely accounts of matters “outside the -record.” If the acts done, for example, in any of the cases cited as -illustrations above, had been done under similar circumstances in New -York, the New York courts would have been powerless to take any -proceeding whatever in the nature of contempt against the respective -offenders. The result is that in the state which suffers most from the -gross and unbridled license of a sensational and lawless press the -courts possess the least power to repress and restrain its excesses. A -change of law which shall give New York courts power to deal summarily -with trial by newspaper is imperatively needed. - -To the two examples which have just been given of the direct influence -which counting-house journalism seeks to exert upon judges and jurors, -might be added others of equal importance, would space permit. But all -improper influences upon legislators or other public officials, or upon -judges or jurors, which these papers may exercise or attempt to -exercise, are as naught in comparison with their systematic and constant -efforts to instill into the minds of the ignorant and poor, who -constitute the greater part of their readers, the impression that -justice is not blind but bought; that the great corporations own the -judges, particularly those of the Federal courts, body and soul; that -American institutions are rotten to the core, and that legislative halls -and courts of justice exist as instruments of oppression, to preserve -the rights of property by denying or destroying the rights of man. No -greater injury can be done to the working people than to create in their -minds this false and groundless suspicion concerning the integrity of -the judiciary. In a country whose political existence, in the ultimate -analysis, depends so largely upon the intelligence and honesty of its -judges, the general welfare requires, not merely that judges should be -men of integrity, but that the people should believe them to be so. It -is this confidence which counting-house journalism has set itself -deliberately at undermining. It is not so important that the people -should believe in the wisdom of their judges. The liberty of criticism -is not confined to the bar and what Judge Grover used to call “the -lawyer’s inalienable privilege of damning the adverse judge—out of -court.” There is no divinity which hedges a judge. His opinions and his -personality are proper subjects for criticism, but the charge of -corruption should not be made recklessly and without good cause. - -It is noticeable that this charge of corruption which yellow journalism -makes against the courts is almost invariably a wholesale charge, never -accompanied by any specific accusation against any definite official. -These general charges are more frequently expressed by cartoon than by -comment. The big-chested Carthaginian labeled “The Trusts,” holding a -squirming Federal judge in his fist, is a cartoon which in one form or -another appears in some of these papers whenever an injunction is -granted in a labor dispute at the instance of some great corporation. -Justice holding her scales with a workingman unevenly balanced by an -immense bag of gold; a human basilisk with dollar marks on his clothes, -a judge sticking out of his pocket, and a workingman under his foot; -Justice holding her scales in one hand while the other is conveniently -open to receive the bribe that is being placed in it—these and many -other cartoons of similar character and meaning are familiar to all -readers of sensational newspapers. If their readers believe the -cartoons, what faith can they have left in American institutions? What -alternative is offered but anarchy if wealth has poisoned the fountains -of justice; if reason is powerless and money omnipotent? If the judges -are corrupt, the political heavens are empty. - -There is no occasion to defend the American judiciary from charges of -wholesale corruption. They might be passed over in silence if they were -addressed merely to the educated and intelligent, or to those familiar -by personal contact with the actual operations of the courts. That there -are many judicial decisions rendered which are unsound in their -reasoning may be readily granted. That some of the Federal judges are -men of very narrow gauge, and that, during the recent coal strike for -example, in granting sweeping, wholesale injunctions against strikers -they have accompanied their decrees at times with opinions so -unjudicial, so filled with mediæval prejudice and rancor against -legitimate organizations of working people as to rouse the indignation -of right-minded men, may be admitted. But prejudice and corruption are -totally dissimilar. There is always hope that an honest though -prejudiced man may in time see reason. This hope inspires patience and -forbearance. Justice can wait with confidence while the prejudiced or -ultra-conservative judge grows wise, and the principles of law are -strongest and surest when they have been established by surmounting the -prejudice and doubts of many timid and over-conservative men. But -justice and human progress should not and will not wait until the -corrupt judge becomes honest. To thoughtful men the severest charge yet -to be made against this new journalism is not merely the influence it -attempts to exert, and perhaps does exert, in particular cases, but -that, wantonly and without just cause, it endeavors to destroy in the -hearts and minds of thousands of newspaper readers a deserved confidence -in the integrity of the courts and a patient faith in the ultimate -triumph of justice by law. - - - - - THE CRITIC AND THE LAW - - BY RICHARD WASHBURN CHILD - - - I - -A recent prosecution by the People of New York, represented by Mr. -Jerome, of a suit for criminal libel, attracted the attention of the -entire nation. The alleged libel set forth in the complaint had appeared -in _Collier’s Weekly_, stating the connection of a certain judge with a -certain unwholesome publication. The defense to this action was that the -statement was true; and, somewhat to the joy of all concerned, excepting -the judge, the unwholesome publication, and those who were exposed in -the course of trial as being its creatures, the jury were obliged to -find that this defense was sound.[9] From a lawyer’s point of view it -was surprising to find that even professional critics and editorial -writers looked upon this case as involving that part of the Common Law -which prescribes the limits of criticism. It only needs to be pointed -out that the statement relied upon as defamation was a statement of -fact, to show that the case against the Collier editors involved no -question of a critic’s right to criticise or an editor’s right to -express his opinion. If the suit had been founded on the criticism of -the contents of the unwholesome publication which had been offered to -the public for those to read who would, then the law of fair comment -would have controlled. No doubt, however, even the trained guides to the -public taste seldom realize the presence of a law governing their -freedom of comment. Such law is in force none the less, and, though the -instinct to express only fair and honest opinion will generally suffice -to prevent a breach of legal limits, it is evident that the -consideration of the law upon the subject is important, not only to the -professional critic, but to any man who has enough opinion on matters of -public interest to be worth an expression. - -Footnote 9: - - The verdict for _Collier’s Weekly_, the defendant, was rendered on - January 26, 1906. Cf. _Collier’s Weekly_, February 10, 1906, vol. 36, - p. 23.—ED. - -It is public policy that the free expression of opinion on matters of -public interest should be as little hampered as possible. Fair comment, -says the law, is the preventive of affectation and folly, the educator -of the public taste and ethics, and the incentive to progress in the -arts. Often fair comment is spoken of as privileged. But privilege in -its legal sense means that some statement is allowed to some particular -person on some particular occasion—a statement that would be libel or -slander unless it came within the realm of privilege. On the other hand, -fair comment is not the right of any particular person or class, or the -privilege of any particular occasion; it is not exclusively the right of -the press or of one who is a critic in the sense that he is an expert. -Doubtless the newspaper or professional critic is given a greater -latitude by juries, who share the prevalent and not ill-advised view -that opinion expressed by the public press is usually more sound than -private comment. The law, however, recognizes no such distinction. Any -one may be a critic. - -In civil actions of defamation, truth in a general way is always a -defense; whether the person against whom the suit is brought has made a -statement of fact or opinion, if he can prove his words to be true, he -is safe from liability. Such was the defense of the Collier editors in -the criminal case mentioned above. Fair comment, however, does not need -to be true to be defended, for it is, if we may use the phrase, its own -defense. Then what is fair comment? - -The right to comment is confined to matters which are of interest to the -public. To endeavor to give a list of matters answering this requirement -would be an endless task; even the courts of England and this country -have passed upon only a few. Instances when the attention, judgment, and -taste of the public are called upon are, however, most frequent in the -fields of politics and of the arts. Such are the acts of those entrusted -with functions of government, the direction of public institutions and -possibly church matters, published books, pictures which have been -exhibited, architecture, theatres, concerts, and public entertainments. -Two reasons prohibit comment upon that which has not become the affair -of the public nor has been offered to the attention of the public:—the -public is not benefited by the criticism of that which it does not know, -and about which it has no concern, and the act of the doer or the work -of the artist against which the comment is directed cannot be said to -have been submitted to open criticism. - -The requirement, which seems right in principle, and which has been laid -down many times in the remarks of English judges, was perhaps overlooked -in Battersby vs. Collier, a New York case. Colonel Battersby, it -appeared, was a veteran of the Civil War, and for six years had been -engaged in painting a picture representing the dramatic meeting of -General Lee and General Grant, at which Colonel Battersby was present. -This painting was intended for exhibition at the Columbian Exposition. -Unfortunately, a few days before Christmas, a young woman of a literary -turn of mind had an opportunity to view this immense canvas, and was -less favorably impressed with the painting than with the pathos -surrounding its inception and development. Accordingly she wrote a story -headed by that handiest of handy titles, _The Colonel’s Christmas_, but -she did not sufficiently conceal the identity of her principal -character. Colonel Battersby sued the publishers, and for damages relied -upon the aspersions cast upon his picture, which in the story was called -a “daub.” More than that, there occurred in the narrative these words: -“What matters it if the Colonel’s ideas of color, light, and shade were -a trifle hazy, if his perspective was a something extraordinary, his -‘breadth’ and ‘treatment’ and ‘tone’ truly marvelous, the Surrender was -a great, vast picture, and it was the Colonel’s life.” The court held -that this was a fair criticism; but it does not plainly appear that -Colonel Battersby had yet submitted his six-year painting to the -attention of the public, or that it had at the time become an object of -general public interest; and if it had not, the decision would seem -doubtful in principle. - -On the other hand, in Gott vs. Pulsifer there was involved the “Cardiff -Giant,” which all remember as the merriest of practical jokes in rock, -which made Harvard scientists rub their eyes and called forth from one -Yale professor a magazine article to prove that the man of stone was the -god Baal brought to New York State by the Phœnicians. The court said -that all manner of abuse might be heaped on the Giant’s adamant head. -“Anything made subject of public exhibition,” said they, “is open to -fair and reasonable comment, no matter how severe.” So you might with -impunity call the Cardiff Giant, or Barnum’s famous long-haired horse, a -hoax; they were objects of general public interest, and any one might -have passed judgment upon them. - -Letters written to a newspaper may be criticised most severely, as often -happens when Constant Reader enters into a warfare of communication with -Old Subscriber; and so long as the contention is free from actionable -personalities, and remains within the bounds of fair comment, neither -will find himself in trouble. Nor is the commercial advertisement immune -from caustic comment, if the comment is sincere. The rhymes in the -street cars, the posters on the fences, the handbill that is thrust over -the domestic threshold, and the signboard, that has now become a factor -in every rural sunset or urban sunrise, must bear the comment upon their -taste, their efficiency, and their ingenuity, which by their very nature -they invite. In England a writer was sued by the maker of a commodity -for travelers advertised as the “Bag of Bags.” The writer thought the -commercial catch-name was silly, vulgar, and ill-conceived, and he said -so. The manufacturer in court urged that the comment injured his trade; -but the judges were inclined to think that an advertisement appealing to -the public was subject to the public opinion and its fair expression. -What is of interest to the general public, so that comment thereon will -be a right of the public, may, however, in certain cases trouble the -jury. A volume of love sonnets printed and circulated privately, and the -architecture of a person’s private dwelling, might furnish very delicate -cases. - -In a time when those who desire to be conspicuous succeed so well in -becoming so, it is rather amusing to wonder just what may be the -difference between the right to comment on the dancer on the stage, and -on the lady who, if she has her way, will sit in a box. Both court -public notice—the dancer by her penciled eyebrows, her tinted cheeks, -her jewelry, her gown, and her grace; the lady in the box, perhaps, by -all these things except the last; both wish favorable comment, and -perhaps ought to bear ridicule, if their cheeks are too tinted, their -eyebrows too penciled, their jewelry too generous, and their gowns too -ornate. A more sober view, however, will show that the matter is one of -proof. The dancer who exhibits herself and her dance for a consideration -necessarily invites expressions of opinion, but it would be difficult to -show in a court of law that the gala lady in the box meant to seek -either commendation—or disapproval. - -A vastly more important and interesting query, and one which must arise -from the present state and tendency of industrial conditions, is whether -the acts of men in commercial activity may ever become so prominent, and -so far-reaching in their effect, that it can well be said that they -compel a universal public interest, and that public comment is impliedly -invited by reason of their conspicuous and semi-public nature. It may be -said that at no time have private industries become of such startling -interest to the community at large as at present in the United States. -At least a few have had an effect more vital to citizens, perhaps, than -the activities of some classes of public officials which are open to -fair comment, and certainly more vital than the management of some -semi-public institutions, which also are open to honest criticism. - -As to corporations, it would seem that, as the public, through the -chartering power of legislation, gives them a right to exist and act, an -argument that the public retains the right to comment upon their -management must have some force; in the case of other forms of -commercial activity, whose powers are inherent and not delegated, the -question must rest on the determination of the best public policy—a -determination which in all classes of cases decides, and ought to -decide, the right of fair comment. - - - II - -When once the comment is decided to be upon a matter of public interest, -there arises the question whether or not the comment is fair. The -requirement of the law in regard to fairness is not based, as might be -supposed, upon the consideration whether comment is mild or severe, -serious or ridiculing, temperate or exaggerated; the critic is not -hampered in the free play of his honest opinions; he is not prohibited -from using the most stinging satire, the most extravagant burlesque, or -the most lacerating invective. - -In 1808, Lord Ellenborough, in Carr vs. Hood, stated the length of leash -given to the critic, and the law has not since been changed. Sir John -Carr, Knight, was the author of several volumes, entitled _A Stranger in -France_, _A Northern Summer_, _A Stranger in Ireland_, and other titles -of equal connotation. Thomas Hood was rather more deserving of a lasting -place in literature than his victim, because of his sense of humor, and -his well-known rapid-fire satire. According to the declaration of Sir -John Carr, the plaintiff, Hood had published a book of burlesque in -which there was a frontispiece entitled “The Knight leaving Ireland with -Regret,” and “containing and representing in the said print, a certain -false, scandalous, malicious and defamatory and ridiculous -representation of said Sir John in the form of a man of ludicrous and -ridiculous appearance holding a pocket handkerchief to his face, and -appearing to be weeping,” and also representing “a malicious and -ridiculous man of ludicrous and ridiculous appearance following the said -Sir John,” and bending under the weight of several books, and carrying a -tied-up pocket handkerchief with “Wardrobe” printed thereon, “thereby -falsely scandalously and maliciously meaning and intending to represent, -for the purpose of rendering the said Sir John ridiculous and exposing -him to laughter, ridicule and contempt,” that the books of the said Sir -John “were so heavy as to cause a man to bend under the weight thereof, -and that his the said Sir John’s wardrobe was very small and capable of -being contained in a pocket handkerchief.” And at the end of this -declaration Sir John alleged that he was damaged because of the -consequent decline in his literary reputation, and, it may be supposed, -because thereafter his books did not appear in the list of the “six -bestsellers” in the Kingdom. - -But no recovery was allowed him, for it was laid down that if a comment, -in whatever form, only ridiculed the plaintiff as an author, there was -no ground for action. Said the eminent justice, “One writer, in exposing -the follies and errors of another, may make use of ridicule, however -poignant. Ridicule is often the fittest weapon for such a purpose.... -Perhaps the plaintiff’s works are now unsalable, but is he to be -indemnified by receiving a compensation from the person who has opened -the eyes of the public to the bad taste and inanity of his -compositions?... We must not cramp observations on authors and their -works.... The critic does a great service to the public who writes down -any vapid or useless publication, such as ought never to have appeared. -He checks the dissemination of bad taste, and prevents people from -wasting both their time and money upon trash. Fair and candid criticism -every one has a right to publish, although the author may suffer a loss -from it. Such a loss the law does not consider an injury, because it is -a loss which the party ought to sustain. It is, in short, the loss of -fame and profits to which he was never entitled.” - -Criticism need not be fair and just, in the sense that it conforms to -the judgment of the majority of the public, or the ideas of a judge, or -the estimate of a jury; but it must remain within certain bounds -circumscribed by the law. - -In the first place, comment must be made honestly; in recent cases much -more stress has been laid upon this point than formerly. It is urged -that, if criticism is not sincere, it is not valuable to the public, and -the ground of public policy, upon which the doctrine of fair criticism -is built, fails to give support to comment which is born of improper -motives or begotten from personal hatred or malice. Yet he who seeks for -cases of criticism which have been decided against the critic solely on -the ground that the critic was malicious must look far. The requirement -in practice seems difficult of application, since, if the critic does -not depart from the work that he is criticising, to strike at the author -thereof as a private individual, and does not mix with his comment false -statements or imputations of bad motives, there is nothing to show legal -malice, and it is almost impossible to prove actual malice. If you -should conclude that your neighbor’s painting which has been on -exhibition is a beautiful marine, but if, because you do not like your -neighbor, you pronounce it to be a dreadful mire of blue paint, it would -be very hard for any other person to prove that at the moment you spoke -you were not speaking honestly. Again, if the comment is within the -other restrictions put by the law upon criticism, it would seem that to -open the question whether or not the comment was malicious, is in effect -very nearly submitting to the jury the question whether or not they -disagree with the critic, since the jury have no other method of -reaching a conclusion that the critic was or was not impelled by malice. - -Malice, in fact, is a bugaboo in the law—and the law, especially the -civil law, avoids dealing with him whenever it can. Yet it is quite -certain that malice must be a consideration in determining what is fair -comment; an opinion which is not honest is of no help to the public in -its striving to attain high morals and unerring discernment. All the -reasons of public policy that give criticism its rights fly out of the -window when malice walks in at the door. - -Some decisions of the courts seem to set the standard of fair comment -even higher. They not only demand that the critic speak with an honest -belief in his opinion, but insist also that a person taking upon himself -to criticise must exercise a reasonable degree of judgment. As one -English judge expressed it in charging the jury: “You must determine -whether any fair man, however exaggerated or obstinate his views, would -have said what this criticism has said.” It would seem, however, that in -many cases this would result in putting the judgment of the jury against -that of the critic. To ask the jury whether this comment is such as -would be made by a fair man is not distinguishable from asking them -whether the comment is fair, and it sometimes happens that, in spite of -the opinion of the jury,—in fact, the opinion of all the world,—the -single critic is right, and the rest of the community all wrong. Does -any one doubt that the comment of Columbus upon the views of those who -opposed him would have been considered unfair by a jury of his time, -until this doughty navigator proved his judgment correct? What would -have happened in a court of law to the man who first said that those who -wrote that the earth was flat were stupidly ignorant? Often the opinion -or criticism which is the most valuable to the community as a -contribution to truth is the very opinion which the community as a body -would call a wild inference by an unfair man; to hold the critic up to -the standard of a “fair man” is to deprive the public of the benefit of -the most powerful influences against the perpetuity of error. - -No better illustration could be found than the case of Merrivale and -Wife _vs._ Carson, in which a dramatic critic said of a play: “_The Whip -Hand_ ... gives us nothing but a hash-up of ingredients which have been -used _ad nauseam_, until one rises in protestation against the loving, -confiding, fatuous husband with the naughty wife, and her double -existence, the good male genius, the limp aristocrat, and the villainous -foreigner. And why dramatic authors will insist that in modern society -comedies the villain must be a foreigner, and the foreigner must be a -villain, is only explicable on the ground that there is more or less -romance about such gentry. It is more in consonance with accepted -notions that your continental croupier would make a much better -fictitious prince, marquis, or count, than would, say, an English -billiard-maker or stable lout. And so the Marquis Colonna in _The Whip -Hand_ is offered up by the authors upon the altar of tradition, and -sacrificed in the usual manner when he gets too troublesome to permit of -the reconciliation of husband and wife and lover and maiden, and is -proved, also much as usual, to be nothing more than a kicked-out -croupier.” - -The jury found that this amounted to falsely setting out the drama as -adulterous and immoral, and was not the criticism of a fair man. -Granting that there was the general imputation of immorality, it seems, -justly considered, a matter of the critic’s opinion. Is not the critic -in effect saying, “To my mind the play is adulterous; no matter what any -one else may think, the play suggests immorality to me”? And if this is -the honest opinion of the critic, no matter how much juries may differ -from him, it would seem that to stifle this individual expression was -against public policy, the very ground on which fair criticism becomes a -universal right. It does not very clearly appear that the case of -Merrivale and Wife _vs._ Carson was decided exclusively on the question -whether the criticism was that of a fair man, but this was the leading -point of the case. The decision and the doctrine it sets forth seem open -to much doubt. - - - III - -Criticism must never depart from a consideration of the work of the -artist or artisan, or the public acts of a person, to attack the -individual himself, apart from his connection with the particular work -or act which is being criticised. The critic is forbidden to touch upon -the domestic or private life of the individual, or upon such matters -concerning the individual as are not of general public interest, at the -peril of exceeding his right. Whereas, in Fry vs. Bennett, an article in -a newspaper purported to criticise the management of a theatrical -troupe, it was held to contain a libel, since it went beyond matters -which concerned the public, and branded the conduct of the manager -toward his singers as unjust and oppressive. - -J. Fenimore Cooper was plaintiff in another suit which illustrates the -same rule of law. This author had many a gallant engagement with his -critics, and, though it has been said that a man who is his own lawyer -has a fool for a client, Mr. Cooper, conducting his own actions, won -from many publishers, including Mr. Horace Greeley and Mr. Webb. In -Cooper vs. Stone the facts reveal that the author, having completed a -voluminous _Naval History of the United States_, in which he had given -the lion’s share of credit for the Battle of Lake Erie, not to the -commanding officer, Oliver H. Perry, but to Jesse D. Elliot, who was a -subordinate, was attacked by the _New York Commercial Advertiser_, which -imputed to the author “a disregard of justice and propriety as a man,” -represented him as infatuated with vanity, mad with passion, and -publishing as true, statements and evidence which had been falsified and -encomiums which had been retracted. This was held to exceed the limits -of fair criticism, since it attacked the character of the author as well -as the book itself. - -The line, however, is not very finely drawn, as may be seen by a -comparison of the above case with Browning vs. Van Rensselaer, in which -the plaintiff was the author of a genealogical treatise entitled -_Americans of Royal Descent_. A young woman, who was interested in -founding a society to be called the “Order of the Crown,” wrote to the -defendant, inviting her to join and recommending to her the book. The -latter answered this letter with a polite refusal, saying that she -thought such a society was un-American and pretentious, and that the -book gave no authority for its statements. The court said that this, -even though it implied that the author was at fault, was not a personal -attack on his private character. - -An intimate relationship almost always exists between the doer of an act -which interests the public and the act itself; the architect is closely -associated with his building, the painter with his picture, the author -with his works, the inventor with his patent, the tradesman with his -advertisement, and the singer with his song; and the critic will find it -impossible not to encroach to some extent upon the personality of the -individual. It seems, however, that the privilege of comment extends to -the individual only so far as is necessary to intelligent criticism of -his particular work under discussion. To write that Mr. Palet’s latest -picture shows that some artists are only fit to paint signs is a comment -on the picture, but to write, apart from comment upon the particular -work, that Mr. Palet is only fit to paint signs is an attack upon the -artist, and if it is untrue, it is libel for which the law allows -recovery. - -No case presents a more complete confusion of the individual and his -work than that of an actor. His physical characteristics, as well as his -personality, may always be said to be presented to general public -interest along with the words and movements which constitute his acting. -The critic can hardly speak of the performance without speaking of the -actor himself, who, it may be argued, presents to a certain extent his -own bodily and mental characteristics to the judgment of the public, -almost as much as do the ossified man and the fat lady of the side show. - -The case of Cherry _vs._ the _Des Moines Leader_ will serve to -illustrate how far the critic who is not actuated by malice may comment -upon the actors as well as the performance, and still be held to have -remained within the limits of fair criticism. The three Cherry sisters -were performers in a variety act, which consisted in part of a burlesque -on _Trilby_, and a more serious presentation entitled, _The Gypsy’s -Warning_. The judge stated that in his opinion the evidence showed that -the performance was ridiculous. The testimony of Miss Cherry included a -statement that one of the songs was a “sort of eulogy on ourselves,” and -that the refrain consisted of these words:— - - “Cherries ripe and cherries red; - The Cherry Sisters are still ahead.” - -She also stated that in _The Gypsy’s Warning_ she had taken the part of -a Spaniard or a cavalier, and that she always supposed a Spaniard and a -cavalier were one and the same thing. The defendant published the -following comment on the performance: “Effie is an old jade of fifty -summers, Jessie a frisky filly of forty, and Addie, the flower of the -family, a capering monstrosity of thirty-five. Their long, skinny arms, -equipped with talons at the extremities, swung mechanically, and anon -waved frantically at the suffering audience. The mouths of their rancid -features opened like caverns, and sounds like the wailings of damned -souls issued therefrom. They pranced around the stage with a motion that -suggested a cross between the _danse du ventre_ and fox-trot—strange -creatures with painted faces and hideous mien.” This was held to be fair -criticism and not libelous; for the Misses Cherry to a certain extent -presented their personal appearance as a part of their performance. - -The critic must not mix with his comment statement of facts which are -not true, since the statement of facts is not criticism at all. In -Tabbart _vs._ Tipper, the earliest case on the subject, the defendant, -in order to ridicule a book published for children, printed a verse -which purported to be an extract from the book, and it was held that -this amounted to a false accusation that the author had published -something which in fact he had never published; it was not comment, but -an untrue statement of fact. So when, as in Davis _vs._ Shepstone, the -critic, in commenting upon the acts of a government official in -Zululand, falsely stated that the officer had been guilty of an assault -upon a native chief, the critic went far beyond comment, and was liable -for defamation. Not unlike Tabbart _vs._ Tipper is a recent case, -Belknap _vs._ Ball. The defendant, during a political campaign, printed -in his newspaper a coarsely executed imitation of the handwriting of a -political candidate of the opposing party, and an imitation of his -signature appeared beneath. The writing contained this misspelled, -unrhetorical sentence: “I don’t propose to go into debate on the tariff -differences on wool, quinine, and such, because I ain’t built that way.” -Readers were led to believe that this was a signed statement by the -candidate, and the newspaper was barred from setting up the plea that -the writing was only fair criticism made through the means of a -burlesque; it was held that imputing to the plaintiff something he had -never written amounted to a false statement of fact, and was not within -fair comment. - -The dividing line between opinion and statement of fact is, however, -most troublesome. Mr. Odgers, in his excellent work on _Libel and -Slander_, remarks that the rule for the distinction between the two -should be that “if facts are known to hearers or readers or made known -by the writer, and their opinion or criticism refers to these true -facts, even if it is a statement in form, it is no less an opinion. But -if the statement simply stands alone, it is not defended.” Applying this -rule, what if a critic makes this simple statement: “The latest book of -Mr. Anonymous is of interest to no intelligent man”? According to the -opinion of Mr. Odgers, it would seem that such a sentence standing alone -was a statement of fact, whereas it is manifest that no one can think -that the critic meant to say more than that in his opinion the book was -not interesting. In Merrivale and Wife _vs._ Carson, the jury found that -the words used by the critic described the play as adulterous, and the -court said that this was a misdescription of the play—a false statement -of fact; but an adulterous play may be one which is only suggestive of -adultery; and even if the critic had baldly said that the play was -adulterous, many of us would think that he was only expressing his -opinion. - -Since the test of whether the statement is of opinion or of fact lies, -not in what the critic secretly intended, but rather in what the hearer -or reader understood, the question is for the jury, and, it seems, -should be presented to them by the court in the form: “Would a -reasonable man under the circumstances have understood this to be a -statement of opinion or of fact?” - -One other care remains for the critic: he must not falsely impute a bad -motive to the individual when commenting upon his work. No less a critic -than Ruskin was held to have made this mistake in the instance of his -criticism of one of Mr. Whistler’s pictures. This well-known libel case -may be found reported in the _Times_ for November 26 and 27, 1878. “The -mannerisms and errors of these pictures,” wrote Mr. Ruskin, alluding to -the pictures of Mr. Burne-Jones, “whatever may be their extent, are -never affected or indolent. The work is natural to the painter, however -strange to us, and is wrought with utmost care, however far, to his own -or our desire, the result may yet be incomplete. Scarcely as much can be -said for any other picture in the modern school; their eccentricities -are almost always in some degree forced, and their imperfections -gratuitously if not impertinently indulged. For Mr. Whistler’s own sake, -no less than for the protection of the purchaser, Sir Coutts Lindsay -ought not to have admitted works into the gallery in which the -ill-educated conceit of the artist so nearly approached the aspect of -wilful imposture. I have seen and heard much of cockney impudence before -now, but never expected to hear a coxcomb ask 200 guineas for flinging a -pot of paint in the public’s face.” - -Out of all this, stinging as it must have been to Mr. Whistler, unless, -since he loved enemies and hated friends, he therefore found pleasure in -the metaphorical thrashings he received, the jury could find only one -phrase, “wilful imposture,” which, because it imputed bad motives, -overstepped the bounds of fair criticism. - -Mr. Odgers’s treatise states the rule to be that “When no ground is -assigned for an inference of bad motives, or when the writer states the -imputation of bad motives as a fact within his knowledge, then he is -only protected if the imputation is true. But when the facts are set -forth, together with the inference, and the reader may judge of the -right or wrong of the opinion or inference, then if the facts are true, -the writer is protected.” It is, however, difficult to see why the -imputation of bad motives in the doer of an act or the creator of a work -of art should in any case come under the right of fair comment, for, no -matter how bad the motives of the individual may be, they are of no -consequence to the public. If a book is immoral, it is immaterial to a -fair criticism whether or not the author meant it to have an immoral -effect; the public is not helped to a proper judgment of the book by any -one’s opinion of the motives of the author, and if the book is bad in -its effect, it makes it no better that the author was impelled by the -best of intentions, or it makes it no worse that the author was acting -with the most evil designs. And if, as in most of the cases that have -arisen, the imputation is one of insincerity, fraud, or deception -practiced upon the public,—where, for example, the critic, in commenting -upon a medical treatise, about which he had made known all the facts, -said that he thought the author wrote the book, not in the interest of -scientific truth, but rather to draw trade by exploiting theories which -he did not believe himself,—it would seem that this charge of fraud or -deception should not be protected as a piece of fair comment, but that -it should be put upon an equality with all other imputations against an -individual, which if untrue and damaging would be held to be libel or -slander. Under Mr. Odgers’s rule, in making a comment upon the acts of a -public officer, one could say, “In pardoning six criminals last week the -governor of the province, we think, has shown that he wishes to -encourage criminality.” No court would, we think, hold this to be within -the right of fair comment upon public matters. If the critic had said, -however, “We think that the governor of the province, in pardoning six -criminals, encouraged criminality,” all the true value of criticism -remains, and the imputation that the public officer acted from an evil -motive is stripped away. The best view seems to be that the right of -fair comment will not shield the false imputations of bad motive. - -Whether or not the critic may impute to the individual certain opinions -does not seem to be settled, but logically this would be quite as much a -statement of fact, or a criticism directed at the individual, as an -imputation of bad motives. A few courts in this country have expressed a -leaning to the opposite view, but the ground upon which they place their -opinion does not appear. - -From the legal point of view, then, we as critics are all held to a high -standard of fairness. We must not comment upon any but matters of public -interest. We must be honest and sincere, but we may express any view, no -matter how prejudiced or exaggerated it may be, so long as it does not -exceed the limits to which a reasonably fair man would go; we must not -attack the individual any more than is consistent with a criticism of -that which he makes or does, and we must not expect that we are within -our right of comment when we make statements of fact or impute to the -individual evil motives. - -All the world asks the critic to be honest, careful, above spite and -personalities, and polite enough not to thrust upon us a consideration -in which we have no interest. The law demands no more. - - - - - HONEST LITERARY CRITICISM - - BY CHARLES MINER THOMPSON - - - I - -There are five groups interested in literary criticism: publishers of -books, authors, publishers of reviews, critics, and, finally, the -reading public. - -An obvious interest of all the groups but the last is financial. For the -publisher of books, although he may have his pride, criticism is -primarily an advertisement: he hopes that his books will be so praised -as to commend them to buyers. For the publisher of book-reviews, -although he also may have his pride, criticism is primarily an -attraction for advertisements: he hopes that his reviews will lead -publishers of books to advertise in his columns. For the critic, -whatever his ideals, criticism is, in whole or in part, his livelihood. -For the author, no matter how disinterested, criticism is -reputation—perhaps a reputation that can be coined. In respect of this -financial interest, all four are opposed to the public, which wants -nothing but competent service—a guide to agreeable reading, an adviser -in selecting gifts, a herald of new knowledge, a giver of intellectual -delight. - -All five groups are discontented with the present condition of American -criticism. - -Publishers of books complain that reviews do not help sales. Publishers -of magazines lament that readers do not care for articles on literary -subjects. Publishers of newspapers frankly doubt the interest of -book-notices. The critic confesses that his occupation is ill-considered -and ill-paid. The author wrathfully exclaims—but what he exclaims cannot -be summarized, so various is it. Thus, the whole commercial interest is -unsatisfied. The public, on the other hand, finds book-reviews of little -service and reads them, if at all, with indifference, with distrust, or -with exasperation. That part of the public which appreciates criticism -as an art maintains an eloquent silence and reads French. - -Obviously, what frets the commercial interest is the public indifference -to book-reviews. What is the cause of that? - -In critical writing, what is the base of interest, the indispensable -foundation in comparison with which all else is superstructure? I -mentioned the public which, appreciating criticism as an art, turns from -America to France for what it craves. Our sympathies respond to the call -of our own national life, and may not be satisfied by Frenchmen; if we -turn to them, we do so for some attraction which compensates for the -absence of intimate relation to our needs. What is it? Of course, French -mastery of form accounts in part for our intellectual absenteeism; but -it does not account for it wholly, not, I think, even in the main. - -Consider the two schools of French criticism typified by Brunetière and -by Anatole France. Men like Brunetière seem to believe that what they -say is important, not merely to fellow dilettanti or to fellow scholars, -but to the public and to the mass of the public; they seem to write, not -to display their attainments, but to use their attainments to accomplish -their end; they put their whole strength, intellectual and moral, into -their argument; they seek to make converts, to crush enemies. They are -in earnest; they feel responsible; they take their office with high -seriousness. They seem to think that the soul and the character of the -people are as important as its economic comfort. The problem of a -contemporary, popular author—even if contemporary, even if popular—is to -them an important question; the intellectual, moral, and æsthetic ideals -which he is spreading through the country are to be tested rigorously, -then applauded or fought. They seek to be clear because they wish to -interest; they wish to interest because they wish to convince; they wish -to convince because they have convictions which they believe should -prevail. - -The men like Anatole France—if there are any others like Anatole -France—have a different philosophy of life. They are doubtful of -endeavor, doubtful of progress, doubtful of new schools of art, doubtful -of new solutions whether in philosophy or economics; but they have a -quick sensitiveness to beauty and a profound sympathy with suffering -man. Not only do they face their doubts, but they make their readers -face them. They do not pretend; they do not conceal; they flatter no -conventions and no prejudices; they are sincere. Giving themselves -without reserve, they do not speak what they think will please you, but -rather try with all their art to please you with what they think. - -In the French critics of both types—the men like Brunetière, the men -like Anatole France—there is this common, this invaluable -characteristic,—I mean intellectual candor. That is their great -attraction; that is the foundation of interest. - -Intellectual candor does not mark American criticism. The fault is -primarily the publisher’s. It lies in the fundamental mistake that he -makes in the matter of publicity. Each publisher, that is, treats each -new book as if it were the only one that he had ever published, were -publishing, or ever should publish. He gives all his efforts to seeing -that it is praised. He repeats these exertions with some success for -each book that he prints. Meanwhile, every other publisher is doing as -much for every new book of his own. The natural result follows—a -monotony of praise which permits no books to stand out, and which, -however plausible in the particular instance, is, in the mass, -incredible. - -But how is it that the publisher’s fiat produces praise? The answer is -implicit in the fact that criticism is supported, not by the public, but -by the publisher. Upon the money which the publisher of books is ready -to spend for advertising depends the publisher of book-reviews; upon him -in turn depends the critic. - -Between the publisher of books anxious for favorable reviews and willing -to spend money, and the publisher of a newspaper anxious for -advertisements and supporting a dependent critic, the chance to trade is -perfect. Nothing sordid need be said or, indeed, perceived; all may be -left to the workings of human nature. Favorable reviews are printed, -advertisements are received; and no one, not even the principals, need -be certain that the reviews are not favorable because the books are -good, or that the advertisements are not given because the comment is -competent and just. Nevertheless, the Silent Bargain has been decorously -struck. Once reached, it tends of itself to become ever more close, -intimate, and inclusive. The publisher of books is continuously tempted -to push his advantage with the complaisant publisher of a newspaper; the -publisher of a newspaper is continuously tempted to pitch ever higher -and still higher the note of praise. - -But the Silent Bargain is not made with newspapers only. Obviously, -critics can say nothing without the consent of some publisher; -obviously, their alternatives are silence or submission. They who write -for the magazines are wooed to constant surrender; they must, or they -think that they must, be tender of all authors who have commercial -relations with the house that publishes the periodical to which they are -contributing. Even they who write books are not exempt; they must, or -they feel that they must, deal gently with reputations commercially dear -to their publisher. If the critic is timid, or amiable, or intriguing, -or struck with poverty, he is certain, whatever his rank, to dodge, to -soften, to omit whatever he fears may displease the publisher on whom he -depends. Selfish considerations thus tend ever to emasculate criticism; -criticism thus tends ever to assume more and more nearly the most -dishonest and exasperating form of advertisement, that of the “reading -notice” which presents itself as sincere, spontaneous testimony. -Disingenuous criticism tends in its turn to puzzle and disgust the -public—and to hurt the publisher. The puff is a boomerang. - -Its return blow is serious; it would be fatal, could readers turn away -wholly from criticism. What saves the publisher is that they cannot. -They have continuous, practical need of books, and must know about them. -The multitudinous paths of reading stretch away at every angle, and the -traveling crowd must gather and guess and wonder about the guide-post -criticism, even if each finger, contradicting every other, points to its -own road as that “To Excellence.” - -Wayfarers in like predicament would question one another. It is so with -readers. Curiously enough, publishers declare that their best -advertising flows from this private talk. They all agree that, whereas -reviews sell nothing, the gossip of readers sells much. Curiously, I -say; for this gossip is not under their control; it is as often adverse -as favorable; it kills as much as it sells. Moreover, when it kills, it -kills in secret; it leaves the bewildered publisher without a clue to -the culprit or his motive. How, then, can it be superior to the -controlled, considerate flattery of the public press? It is odd that -publishers never seriously ask themselves this question, for the answer, -if I have it, is instructive. The dictum of the schoolgirl that a novel -is “perfectly lovely” or “perfectly horrid,” comes from the heart. The -comment of society women at afternoon tea, the talk of business men at -the club, if seldom of much critical value, is sincere. In circles in -which literature is loved, the witty things which clever men and clever -women say about books are inspired by the fear neither of God nor of -man. In circles falsely literary, parrot talk and affectation hold sway, -but the talkers have an absurd faith in one another. In short, all -private talk about books bears the stamp of sincerity. That is what -makes the power of the spoken word. It is still more potent when it -takes the form, not of casual mention, but of real discussion. When -opinions differ, talk becomes animated, warm, continuous. Listeners are -turned into partisans. A lively, unfettered dispute over a book by witty -men, no matter how prejudiced, or by clever women, no matter how -unlearned, does not leave the listener indifferent. He is tempted to -read that book. - -Now, what the publisher needs in order to print with financial profit -the best work and much work, is the creation of a wide general interest -in literature. This vastly transcends in importance the fate of any one -book or group of books. Instead, then, of trying to start in the public -press a chorus of stupid praise, why should he not endeavor to obtain a -reproduction of what he acknowledges that his experience has taught him -is his main prop and support—the frank word, the unfettered dispute of -private talk? Let him remember what has happened when the vivacity of -public opinion has forced this reproduction. It is history that those -works have been best advertised over which critics have fought—Hugo’s -dramas, Wagner’s music, Whitman’s poems, Zola’s novels, Mrs. Stowe’s -_Uncle Tom_. - -Does it not all suggest the folly of the Silent Bargain? - -I have spoken always of tendencies. Public criticism never has been and -never will be wholly dishonest, even when in the toils of the Silent -Bargain; it never has been and never will be wholly honest, even with -that cuttlefish removed. But if beyond cavil it tended towards -sincerity, the improvement would be large. In the measure of that -tendency it would gain the public confidence without which it can -benefit no one—not even the publisher. For his own sake he should do -what he can to make the public regard the critic, not as a mere -megaphone for his advertisements, but as an honest man who speaks his -honest mind. To this end, he should deny his foolish taste for praise, -and, even to the hurt of individual ventures, use his influence to -foster independence in the critic. - -In the way of negative help, he should cease to tempt lazy and -indifferent reviewers with ready-made notices, the perfunctory and -insincere work of some minor employee; he should stop sending out, as -“literary” notes, thinly disguised advertisements and irrelevant -personalities; he should no longer supply photographs of his authors in -affected poses that display their vanity much and their talent not at -all. That vulgarity he should leave to those who have soubrettes to -exploit; he should not treat his authors as if they were variety -artists—unless, indeed, they are just that, and he himself on the level -of the manager of a low vaudeville house. These cheap devices lower his -dignity as a publisher, they are a positive hurt to the reputation of -his authors, they make less valuable to him the periodical that prints -them, and they are an irritation and an insult to the critic, for, one -and all, they are attempts to insinuate advertising into his honest -columns. Frankly, they are modes of corruption, and degrade the whole -business of writing. - -In the way of positive help, he should relieve of every commercial -preoccupation, not only the editors and contributors of any magazines -that he may control, but also those authors of criticism and critical -biography whose volumes he may print. Having cleaned his own house, he -should steadily demand of the publications in which he advertises, a -higher grade of critical writing, and should select the periodicals to -which to send his books for notice, not according to the partiality, but -according to the ability of their reviews. Thus he would do much to make -others follow his own good example. - - - II - -What of the author? In respect of criticism, the publisher, of course, -has no absolute rights, not even that of having his books noticed at -all. His interests only have been in question, and, in the long run and -in the mass, these will not be harmed, but benefited, by criticism -honestly adverse. He has in his writers a hundred talents, and if his -selection is shrewd most of them bring profit. Frank criticism will but -help the task of judicious culling. But all that has been said assumes -the cheerful sacrifice of the particular author who must stake his all -upon his single talent. Does his comparative helplessness give him any -right to tender treatment? - -It does not; in respect of rights his, precisely, is the predicament of -the publisher. If an author puts forth a book for sale, he obviously can -be accorded no privilege incompatible with the right of the public to -know its value. He cannot ask to have the public fooled for his benefit; -he cannot ask to have his feelings saved, if to save them the critic -must neglect to inform his readers. That is rudimentary. Nor may the -author argue more subtly that, until criticism is a science and truth -unmistakable, he should be given the benefit of the doubt. This was the -proposition behind the plea, strongly urged not so long ago, that all -criticism should be “sympathetic”; that is, that the particular critic -is qualified to judge those writers only whom, on the whole, he likes. -Love, it was declared, is the only key to understanding. The obvious -value of the theory to the Silent Bargain accounts for its popularity -with the commercial interests. Now, no one can quarrel with the -criticism of appreciation—it is full of charm and service; but to -pretend that it should be the only criticism is impertinent and vain. To -detect the frivolity of such a pretension, one has only to apply it to -public affairs; imagine a political campaign in which the candidates -were criticised only by their friends! No; the critic should attack -whatever he thinks is bad, and he is quite as likely to be right when he -does so as when he applauds what he thinks is good. In a task wherein -the interest of the public is the one that every time and all the time -should be served, mercy to the author is practically always a betrayal. -To the public, neither the vanity nor the purse of the author is of the -slightest consequence. Indeed, a criticism powerful enough to curb the -conceit of some authors, and to make writing wholly unprofitable to -others, would be an advantage to the public, to really meritorious -authors, and to the publisher. - -And the publisher—to consider his interests again for a moment—would -gain not merely by the suppression of useless, but by the discipline of -spoiled, writers. For the Silent Bargain so works as to give to many an -author an exaggerated idea of his importance. It leads the publisher -himself—what with his complaisant reviewers, his literary notes, his -personal paragraphs, his widely distributed photographs—to do all that -he can to turn the author’s head. Sometimes he succeeds. When the -spoiled writer, taking all this _au grand sérieux_, asks why sales are -not larger, then how hard is the publisher pressed for an answer! If the -author chooses to believe, not the private but the public statement of -his merit, and bases upon it either a criticism of his publisher’s -energy or a demand for further publishing favors,—increase of -advertising, higher royalties, what not,—the publisher is in a -ridiculous and rather troublesome quandary. None but the initiated know -what he has occasionally to endure from the arrogance of certain -writers. Here fearless criticism should help him much. - -But if the conceit of some authors offends, the sensitiveness of others -awakens sympathy. The author does his work in solitude; his material is -his own soul; his anxiety about a commercial venture is complicated with -the apprehension of the recluse who comes forth into the market-place -with his heart upon his sleeve. Instinctively he knows that, as his book -is himself, or at least a fragment of himself, criticism of it is truly -criticism of him, not of his intellectual ability merely, but of his -essential character, his real value as a man. Let no one laugh until he -has heard and survived the most intimate, the least friendly comment -upon his own gifts and traits, made in public for the delectation of his -friends and acquaintances and of the world at large. Forgivably enough, -the author is of all persons the one most likely to be unjust to critics -and to criticism. In all ages he has made bitter counter-charges, and -flayed the critics as they have flayed him. His principal complaints are -three: first, that all critics are disappointed authors; second, that -many are young and incompetent, or simply incompetent; third, that they -do not agree. Let us consider them in turn. - -Although various critics write with success other things than criticism, -the first complaint is based, I believe, upon what is generally a fact. -It carries two implications: the first, that one cannot competently -judge a task which he is unable to perform himself; the second, that the -disappointed author is blinded by jealousy. As to the first, no writer -ever refrained out of deference to it from criticising, or even -discharging, his cook. As to the second, jealousy does not always blind: -sometimes it gives keenness of vision. The disappointed author turned -critic may indeed be incompetent; but, if he is so, it is for reasons -that his disappointment does not supply. If he is able, his -disappointment will, on the contrary, help his criticism. He will have a -wholesome contempt for facile success; he will measure by exacting -standards. Moreover, the thoughts of a talented man about an art for the -attainment of which he has striven to the point of despair are certain -to be valuable; his study of the masters has been intense; his study of -his contemporaries has had the keenness of an ambitious search for the -key to success. His criticism, even if saturated with envy, will have -value. In spite of all that partisans of sympathetic criticism may say, -hatred and malice may give as much insight into character as love. -Sainte-Beuve was a disappointed author, jealous of the success of -others. - -But ability is necessary. Envy and malice, not reinforced by talent, can -win themselves small satisfaction, and do no more than transient harm; -for then they work at random and make wild and senseless charges. To be -dangerous to the author, to be valuable to the public, to give pleasure -to their possessor, they must be backed by acuteness to perceive and -judgment to proclaim real flaws only. The disappointed critic of ability -knows that the truth is what stings, and if he seeks disagreeable truth, -at least he seeks truth. He knows also that continual vituperation is as -dull as continual praise; if only to give relief to his censure, he will -note what is good. He will mix honey with the gall. So long as he speaks -truth, he does a useful work, and his motives are of no consequence to -any one but himself. Even if he speaks it with unnecessary roughness, -the author cannot legitimately complain. Did he suppose that he was -sending his book into a world of gentlemen only? Truth is truth, and a -boor may have it. That the standard of courtesy is sometimes hard to -square with that of perfect sincerity is the dilemma of the critic; but -the author can quarrel with the fact no more than with the circumstance -that in a noisy world he can write best where there is quiet. If he -suffers, let him sift criticism through his family; consoling himself, -meanwhile, with the reflection that there is criticism of criticism, and -that any important critic will ultimately know his pains. Leslie Stephen -was so sensitive that he rarely read reviews of his critical writings. -After all, the critic is also an author. - -The second complaint of writers, that criticism is largely young and -incompetent,—or merely incompetent,—is well founded. The reason lies in -the general preference of publishers for criticism that is laudatory -even if absurd. Again we meet the Silent Bargain. The commercial -publisher of book-reviews, realizing that any fool can praise a book, is -apt to increase his profits by lowering the wage of his critic. At its -extreme point, his thrift requires a reviewer of small brains and less -moral courage; such a man costs less and is unlikely ever to speak with -offensive frankness. Thus it happens that, commonly in the newspapers -and frequently in periodicals of some literary pretension, the writers -of reviews are shiftless literary hacks, shallow, sentimental women, or -crude young persons full of indiscriminate enthusiasm for all printed -matter. - -I spoke of the magazines. When their editors say that literary papers -are not popular, do they consider what writers they admit to the work, -with what payment they tempt the really competent, what limitations they -impose upon sincerity? Do they not really mean that the amiable in -manner or the remote in subject, which alone they consider expedient, is -not popular? Do they really believe that a brilliant writer, neither a -dilettante nor a Germanized scholar, uttering with fire and conviction -his full belief, would not interest the public? Do they doubt that such -a writer could be found, if sought? The reviews which they do print are -not popular; but that proves nothing in respect of better reviews. -Whatever the apparent limitations of criticism, it actually takes the -universe for its province. In subject it is as protean as life itself; -in manner it may be what you will. To say, then, that neither American -writers nor American readers can be found for it is to accuse the nation -of a poverty of intellect so great as to be incredible. No; commercial -timidity, aiming always to produce a magazine so inoffensive as to -insinuate itself into universal tolerance, is the fundamental cause of -the unpopularity of the average critical article; how can the public -fail to be indifferent to what lacks life, appositeness to daily needs, -conviction, intellectual and moral candor? At least one reason why we -have no Brunetière is that there is almost no periodical in which such a -man may write. - -In the actual, not the possible, writers of our criticism there is, in -the lower ranks, a lack of skill, of seriousness, of reasonable -competence, and a cynical acceptance of the dishonest rôle they are -expected to play; in the higher ranks, there is a lack of any vital -message, a desire rather to win, without offending the publisher, the -approval of the ultra-literary and the scholarly, than really to reach -and teach the public. It is this degradation, this lack of earnestness, -and not lack of inherent interest in the general topic, which makes our -critical work unpopular, and deprives the whole literary industry of -that quickening and increase of public interest from which alone can -spring a vigorous and healthy growth. This feebleness will begin to -vanish the moment that the publishers of books, who support criticism, -say peremptorily that reviews that interest, not reviews that puff, are -what they want. When they say this, that is the kind of reviews they -will get. If that criticism indeed prove interesting, it will then be -printed up to the value of the buying power of the public, and it will -be supported where it should be—not by the publisher but by the people. -It is said in excuse that, as a city has the government, so the public -has the criticism, which it deserves. That is debatable; but, even so, -to whose interest is it that the taste of the public should be improved? -Honest criticism addressed to the public, by writers who study how to -interest it rather than how to flatter the producers of books, would -educate. The education of readers, always the soundest investment of the -publisher, can never be given by servile reviewers feebly echoing his -own interested advertisements. They are of no value—to the public, the -publisher, or the author. - -The publisher of a newspaper of which reviews are an incident need not, -however, wait for the signal. If, acting on the assumption that his duty -is, not to the publisher but to the public, he will summon competent and -earnest reviewers to speak the truth as they see it, he will infallibly -increase the vivacity and interest of his articles and the pleasure and -confidence of his readers. He will not have any permanent loss of -advertising. Whenever he establishes his periodical as one read by -lovers of literature, he has the publishers at his mercy. But suppose -that his advertising decreases? Let him not make the common mistake of -measuring the value of a department by the amount of related advertising -that it attracts. The general excellence of his paper as an advertising -medium—supposing he has no aim beyond profit—is what he should seek. The -public which reads and enjoys books is worth attracting, even if the -publisher does not follow, for it buys other things than books. - -If, however, his newspaper is not one that can please people of literary -tastes, he will get book-advertising only in negligible quantities no -matter how much he may praise the volumes sent him. Of what use are -puffs which fall not under the right eyes? - -If, again, his periodical seems an exception to this reasoning, and his -puffery appears to bring him profit, let him consider the parts of it -unrelated to literature; he will find there matter which pleases readers -of intelligence, and he may be sure that this, quite as much as his -praise, is what brings the publishers’ advertisements; he may be sure -that, should he substitute sincere criticism, the advertisements would -increase. - - - III - -The third complaint of the author—from whom I have wandered—is that -critics do not agree. To argue that whenever two critics hold different -opinions, the criticism of one of them must be valueless, is absurd. The -immediate question is, valueless to whom—to the public or to the author? - -If the author is meant, the argument assumes that criticism is written -for the instruction of the author, which is not true. Grammar and facts -a critic can indeed correct; but he never expects to change an author’s -style or make his talent other than it is. Though he may lash the man, -he does not hope to reform him. However slightly acquainted with -psychology, the critic knows that a mature writer does not change and -cannot change; his character is made, his gifts, such as they are, are -what they are. On the contrary, the critic writes to influence the -public—to inform the old, to train the young. He knows that his chief -chance is with plastic youth; he hopes to form the future writer; still -more he hopes to form the future reader. He knows that the effect of -good reviewing stops not with the books reviewed, but influences the -reader’s choice among thousands of volumes as yet undreamed of by any -publisher. - -If, on the other hand, the public is meant, the argument assumes that -one man’s meat is not another man’s poison. The bird prefers seed, and -the dog a bone, and there is no standard animal food. Nor, likewise, is -there any standard intellectual food: both critics, however they -disagree, may be right. - -No author, no publisher, should think that variety invalidates -criticism. If there is any certainty about critics, it is that they will -not think alike. The sum of _x_ (a certain book) plus _y_ (a certain -critic) can never be the same as _x_ (the same book) plus _z_ (a -different critic). A given book cannot affect a man of a particular -ability, temperament, training, as it affects one of a different -ability, temperament, and training. A book is never complete without a -reader, and the value of the combination is all that can be found out. -For the value of a book is varying: it varies with the period, with the -nationality, with the character of the reader. Shakespeare had one value -for the Elizabethans; he has a different value for us, and still another -for the Frenchman; he has a special value for the playgoer, and a -special value for the student in his closet. In respect of literary art, -pragmatism is right: there is no truth, there are truths. About all -vital writing there is a new truth born with each new reader. Therein -lies the unending fascination of books, the temptation to infinite -discussion. To awaken an immortal curiosity is the glory of genius. - -From all this it follows that critics are representative; each one -stands for a group of people whose spokesman he has become, because he -has, on the whole, their training, birth from their class, the -prejudices of their community and of their special group in that -community, and therefore expresses their ideals. Once let publisher and -author grasp this idea, and criticism, however divergent, will come to -have a vital meaning for them. The publisher can learn from the judgment -of the critic what the judgment of his group in the community is likely -to be, and from a succession of such judgments through a term of years, -he can gain valuable information as to the needs, the tastes, the ideals -of the public, or of the group of publics, which he may wish to serve. -Accurate information straight from writers serving the public—that, I -cannot too often repeat, is worth more to him than any amount of -obsequious praise. That precisely is what he cannot get until all -critics are what they should be—lawyers whose only clients are their own -convictions. - -The author also gains. Although he is always liable to the -disappointment of finding that his book has failed to accomplish his -aim, he nevertheless can draw the sting from much adverse criticism if -he will regard, not its face value, but its representative value. He is -writing for a certain audience; the criticism of that audience only, -then, need count. If he has his own public with him, he is as safe as a -man on an island viewing a storm at sea, no matter how critics -representing other publics may rage. Not all the adverse comment in this -country on E. P. Roe, in England on Ouida, in France on Georges Ohnet -ever cost them a single reader. Their audience heard it not; it did not -count. There is, of course, a difference of value in publics, and if -these writers had a tragedy, it lay in their not winning the audience of -their choice. But this does not disturb the statement as to the vanity -of adverse criticism for an author who hears objurgations from people -whom he did not seek to please. Sometimes, indeed, such objurgations -flatter. If, for example, the author has written a novel which is in -effect an attempt to batter down ancient prejudice, nothing should -please him more than to hear the angry protests of the conservative—they -may be the shrieks of the dying, as was the case, for instance, when Dr. -Holmes wrote the _Autocrat_; they show, at any rate, that the book has -hit. - -Now, each in its degree, every work of art is controversial and cannot -help being so until men are turned out, like lead soldiers, from a -common mould. Every novel, for example, even when not written “with a -purpose,” has many theories behind it—a theory as to its proper -construction, a theory as to its proper content, a theory of life. Every -one is a legitimate object of attack, and in public or private is -certain to be attacked. Does the author prefer to be fought in the open -or stabbed in the dark?—that is really his only choice. The author of a -novel, a poem, an essay, or a play should think of it as a new idea, or -a new embodiment of an idea, which is bound to hurtle against others -dear to their possessors. He should remember that a book that arouses no -discussion is a poor, dead thing. Let him cultivate the power of -analysis, and seek from his critics, not praise, but knowledge of what, -precisely, he has done. If he has sought to please, he can learn what -social groups he has charmed, what groups he has failed to interest, and -why, and may make a new effort with a better chance of success. If he -has sought to prevail, he can learn whether his blows have told, and, -what is more important, upon whom. In either case, to know the nature of -his general task, he must learn three things: whom his book has -affected, how much it has affected them, and in what way it has affected -them. Only through honest, widespread, really representative criticism, -can the author know these things. - -Whatever their individual hurts, the publisher of books, the publisher -of book-reviews, and the author should recognize that the entire -sincerity of criticism, which is the condition of its value to the -public, is also the condition of its value to them. It is a friend whose -wounds are faithful. The lesson that they must learn is this: an honest -man giving an honest opinion is a respectable person, and if he has any -literary gift at all, a forcible writer. What he says is read, and, what -is more, it is trusted. If he has cultivation enough to maintain himself -as a critic,—as many of those now writing have not, once servility -ceases to be a merit,—he acquires a following upon whom his influence is -deep and real, and upon whom, in the measure of his capacity, he exerts -an educational force. If to honesty he adds real scholarship, sound -taste, and vivacity as a writer, he becomes a leading critic, and his -influence for good is proportionally enlarged. If there were honest -critics with ability enough to satisfy the particular readers they -served in every periodical now printing literary criticism, public -interest in reviews, and consequently in books, would greatly increase. -And public interest and confidence once won, the standing, and with it -the profit, of the four groups commercially interested in literature -would infallibly rise. This is the condition which all four should work -to create. - -Would it arrive if the publisher of books should repudiate the Silent -Bargain? If he should send with the book for review, not the usual -ready-made puff, but a card requesting only the favor of a sincere -opinion; if, furthermore, he showed his good faith by placing his -advertisements where the quality of the reviewing was best, would the -critical millennium come? It would not. I have made the convenient -assumption that the critic needs only permission to be sincere. -Inevitable victim of the Silent Bargain he may be, but he is human and -will not be good simply because he has the chance. But he would be -better than he is—if for no other reason than because many of his -temptations would be removed. The new conditions would at once and -automatically change the direction of his personal interests. He and his -publisher would need to interest the public. Public service would be the -condition of his continuing critic at all. He would become the agent, -not of the publisher to the public, but of the public to the publisher. -And although then, as now in criticism of political affairs, insincere -men would sacrifice their standards to their popularity, they would -still reflect public opinion. To know what really is popular opinion is -the first step toward making it better. Accurately to know it is of the -first commercial importance for publisher and author, of the first -public importance for the effective leaders of public opinion. - -This new goal of criticism—the desire to attract the public—would have -other advantages. It would diminish the amount of criticism. One of the -worst effects of the Silent Bargain is the obligation of the reviewer to -notice every book that is sent him—not because it interests him, not -because it will interest his public, but to satisfy the publisher. Thus -it happens that many a newspaper spreads before its readers scores upon -scores of perfunctory reviews in which are hopelessly concealed those -few written with pleasure, those few which would be welcome to its -public. Tired by the mere sight, readers turn hopelessly away. Now, many -books lack interest for any one; of those that remain, many lack -interest for readers of a particular publication. Suppose a reviewer, -preoccupied, not with the publisher, but with his own public, confronted -by the annual mass of books: ask yourself what he would naturally do. He -would notice, would he not, those books only in which he thought that he -could interest his readers? He would warn his public against books which -would disappoint them; he would take pleasure in praising books which -would please them. The glow of personal interest would be in what he -wrote, and, partly for this reason, partly because the reviews would be -few, his public would read them. Herein, again, the publisher would -gain; conspicuous notices of the right books would go to the right -people. An automatic sifting and sorting of his publications, like that -done by the machines which grade fruit, sending each size into its -appropriate pocket, would take place. - -But the greatest gain to criticism remains to be pointed out. The -critics who have chosen silence, rather than submission to the Silent -Bargain, would have a chance to write. They are the best critics, and -when they resume the pen, the whole industry of writing will gain. - - - IV - -But the critic, though liberated, has many hard questions to decide, -many subtle temptations to resist. There is the question of his motives, -which I said are of no consequence to the author or to the public so -long as what he speaks is truth; but which, I must now add, are of great -consequence to him. If he feels envy and malice, he must not cherish -them as passions to be gratified, but use them, if at all, as dangerous -tools. He must be sure that his ruling passion is love of good work—a -love strong enough to make him proclaim it, though done by his worst -enemy. There is the question again of his own limitations; he must be on -his guard lest they lead him into injustice, and yet never so timid that -he fails to say what he thinks, for fear it may be wrong. - -I speak of these things from the point of view of the critic’s duty to -himself; but they are a part also of his duty towards his neighbor, the -author. What that duty may precisely be, is his most difficult problem. -A few things only are plain. He ought to say as much against a friend as -against an enemy, as much against a publisher whom he knows as against a -publisher of England or France. He must dare to give pain. He must make -his own the ideals of Sarcey. “I love the theatre,” he wrote to Zola, -“with so absolute a devotion that I sacrifice everything, even my -particular friends, even, what is much more difficult, my particular -enemies, to the pleasure of pushing the public towards the play which I -consider good, and of keeping it away from the play which I consider -bad.” - -That perhaps was comparatively easy for Sarcey with his clear ideal of -the well-made piece; it is perhaps easy in the simple, straightforward -appraisal of the ordinary book; but the critic may be excused if he -feels compunctions and timidities when the task grows more complex, -when, arming himself more and more with the weapons of psychology, he -seeks his explanations of a given work where undoubtedly they lie, in -the circumstances, the passions, the brains, the very disorders of the -author. How far in this path may he go? Unquestionably, he may go far, -very far with the not too recent dead; but with the living how far may -he go, how daring may he make his guess? For guess it will be, since his -knowledge, if not his competence, will be incomplete until memoirs, -letters, diaries, reminiscences bring him their enlightenment. One -thinks first what the author may suffer when violent hands are laid upon -his soul, and one recoils; but what of the public? Must the public, -then, not know its contemporaries just as far as it can—these -contemporaries whose strong influence for good or evil it is bound to -undergo? These have full license to play upon the public; shall not the -public, in its turn, be free to scrutinize to any, the most intimate -extent, the human stuff from which emanates the strong influence which -it feels? If the public good justifies dissection, does it not also -justify vivisection? Is literature an amusement only, or is it a living -force which on public grounds the critic has every right in all ways to -measure? Doubtless his right in the particular case may be tested by the -importance of the answer to the people, yet the grave delicacy of this -test—which the critic must apply himself—is equaled only by the -ticklishness of the task. Yet there lies the path of truth, serviceable, -ever honorable truth. - -The critic is, in fact, confronted by two standards. Now and again he -must make the choice between admirable conduct and admirable criticism. -They are not the same. It is obvious that what is outrageous conduct may -be admirable criticism, that what is admirable conduct may be inferior, -shuffling criticism. Which should he choose? If we make duty to the -public the test, logic seems to require that he should abate no jot of -his critical message. It certainly seems hard that he should be held to -a double (and contradictory) standard when others set in face of a like -dilemma are held excused. The priest is upheld in not revealing the -secrets of the confessional, the lawyer in not betraying the secret -guilt of his client, although as a citizen each should prefer the public -to the individual; whereas the critic who, reversing the case, -sacrifices the individual to the public, is condemned. The public should -recognize, I think, his right to a special code like that accorded the -priest, the lawyer, the soldier, the physician. He should be relieved of -certain social penalties, fear of which may cramp his freedom and so -lessen his value. Who cannot easily see that a critic may write from the -highest sense of duty words which would make him the “no gentleman” that -Cousin said Sainte-Beuve was? - -But the whole question is thorny; that writer will do an excellent -service to letters who shall speak an authoritative word upon the ethics -of criticism. At present, there is nothing—except the law of libel. The -question is raised here merely to the end of asking these further -questions: Would not the greatest freedom help rather than hurt the -cause of literature? Is not the double standard too dangerous a weapon -to be allowed to remain in the hands of the upholders of the Silent -Bargain? - - -Meanwhile —until the problem is solved —the critic must be an explorer -of untraveled ethical paths. Let him be bold whether he is a critic of -the deeds of the man of action, or of those subtler but no less real -deeds, the words of an author! For, the necessary qualifications made, -all that has been said of literary criticism applies to all -criticism—everywhere there is a Silent Bargain to be fought, everywhere -honest opinion has powerful foes. - -The thing to do for each author of words or of deeds, each critic of one -or the other, is to bring his own pebble of conviction however rough and -sharp-cornered and throw it into that stream of discussion which will -roll and grind it against others, and finally make of it and of them -that powder of soil in which, let us hope, future men will raise the -crop called truth. - - - - - DRAMATIC CRITICISM IN THE AMERICAN PRESS - - BY JAMES S. METCALFE - - -A little insight into the practical conditions which surround newspaper -criticism to-day is needed before we can estimate its value or -importance as an institution. Venial and grossly incompetent critics -there have always been, but these have eventually been limited in their -influence through the inevitable discovery of their defects. They were -and are individual cases, which may be disregarded in a general view. -The question to be considered is, whether our newspapers have any -dramatic criticism worthy of the name, and, if there is none, what are -the causes of its nonexistence. - -When the late William Winter lost his position as dramatic critic of the -_New York Tribune_, the event marked not alone the virtual disappearance -from the American press of dramatic criticism as our fathers knew and -appreciated it: the circumstances of the severance of his half-century’s -connection with that publication also illustrate vividly a principal -reason for the extinction of criticism as it used to be. - -At the time mentioned the _Tribune_ had not fallen entirely from its -early estate. It was still a journal for readers who thought. Its strong -political partisanship limited its circulation, which had been for some -time declining. It had been hurt by the fierce competition of its -sensational and more enterprising contemporaries. The _Tribune_ could -not afford to lose any of the advertising revenue which was essential to -its very existence. - -Mr. Winter would not write to orders. He had certain prejudices, but -they were honest ones, and those who knew his work were able to discount -them in sifting his opinions. For instance, he had a sturdy hatred for -the Ibsen kind of dissectional drama, and it was practically impossible -for him to do justice even to good acting in plays of this school. - -In a broader way he was the enemy of uncleanness on the stage. For this -reason he had frequently denounced a powerful firm of managers whom he -held to be principally responsible for the, at first insidious and then -rapid, growth of indecency in our theatre. These managers controlled a -large amount of the theatrical advertising. The _Tribune_ frequently -printed on one page large advertisements of the enterprises these men -represented, and on another page they would find themselves described, -in Mr. Winter’s most vigorous English, as panders who were polluting the -theatre and its patrons. They knew the _Tribune’s_ weak financial -condition and demanded that Mr. Winter’s pen be curbed, the alternative -being a withdrawal of their advertising patronage. What happened then -was a scandal, and is history in the newspaper and theatrical world. - -Mr. Winter refused to be muzzled. In spite of a half-century’s faithful -service, he was practically dismissed from the staff of the _Tribune_. -If it had not been for a notable benefit performance given for him by -artists who honored him, and generously patronized by his friends and -the public who knew his work, his last days would have been devoid of -comfort. - -Mr. Winter’s experience, although he is not the only critic who has lost -his means of livelihood through the influence of the advertising -theatrical manager, is in some form present to the mind of every -newspaper writer in the province of the theatre. No matter how strong -the assurance of his editor that he may go as far as he pleases in -telling the truth, he knows that even the editor himself is in fear of -the dread summons from the business office. If the critic has had any -experience in the newspaper business,—no longer a profession,—he writes -what he pleases, but with his subconscious mind tempering justice with -mercy for the enterprises of the theatrical advertiser. This, of course, -does not preclude his giving a critical tone to what he writes by -finding minor defects and even flaying unimportant artists. But woe be -unto him if he launches into any general denunciation of theatrical -methods, or attacks the enterprise of the advertising manager in a way -that imperils profits. - -There are exceptions to these general statements, especially outside of -New York. There are a few newspapers left where the editorial conscience -outweighs the influence of the counting-room. Even in these cases the -reviewer, if he is wise, steers clear of telling too much truth about -enterprises whose belligerent managers are only too glad to worry his -employers with complaints of persecution or injustice. In other places -the theatrical advertising is not of great value, particularly where the -moving-picture has almost supplanted the legitimate theatre. Here we -occasionally find criticism of the old sort, particularly if, in the -local reviewer’s mind, the entertainment offered is not up to what he -considers the Broadway standard of production. Here the publisher’s -regard for local pride will sometimes excuse the reviewer’s affront to -the infrequently visiting manager and the wares he offers. - -Another exception is the purely technical critic who has no broader -concern with the theatre than recording the impressions which come to -him through his eyes, ears, and memory. He is safe, because he rarely -offends. He is scarce, because he is little read and newspapers cannot -give him the space he requires for analysis and recollection. The -high-pressure life of the newspaper reader calls for a newspaper made -under high pressure and for to-day. In this process there is little -opportunity for the display of the scholarship, leisurely thinking, and -carefully evolved judgments which gave their fame to critics of an -earlier period. In the few remaining survivals of the strictly technical -critic their failure to interest many readers, or exercise much -influence, may argue less a lack of ability on their part than a change -from a thinking to a non-thinking public. Even in the big Sunday -editions of the city dailies, where the pages are generously padded with -text to carry the displayed theatrical advertising, the attempts to rise -to a higher critical plane than is possible in the hurried weekday -review are in themselves frequent evidence that technical criticism is a -thing of the past so far as the newspapers are concerned. - -The close connection of the business of the newspaper with the business -of the theatre accounts for the practical disappearance of the element -of fearlessness in critical dealing with the art of the stage, -particularly as the business control of the theatre is largely -responsible for whatever decline we may discern in the art of the -theatre. Of course, if criticism were content to concern itself only -with results, and not to look for causes, the matter of business -interests would figure little in the discussion. But when the critic -dares to go below the surface and discern commercialism as the main -cause of the decline that he condemns in the art of the stage, he finds -himself on dangerous ground. - -The theatre has always had to have its business side. Actors must live -and the accessories of their art must be provided. To this extent the -stage has always catered to the public. But from the days of the -strolling player to those of the acting-manager the voice from back of -the curtain has, until of recent years, had at least as much of command -as that of the ticket-seller. Both in the theatre and in the press -modern conditions have in great measure thrown the control to the -material side; and just as the artist and dramatist have become -subservient to the manager, the editor and critic have come under the -domination of the publisher. - -The need of a greater revenue to house plays and public has placed the -theatre in the hands of those who could manage to secure that revenue. -The same necessity on the material and mechanical side has put the power -of the press in the hands of those who could best supply its financial -needs. With both theatre and press on a commercial basis, it follows -naturally that the art of acting and the art of criticism should both -decline. - -Here we have the main causes that work from the inside for the -deterioration of an art and for the destruction of the standards by -which that art is measured. The outside causes are, of course, the basic -ones, but before we get to them we must understand the connecting links -which join the cause to the effect. To-day we certainly have no Hazlitts -or Sarceys writing for the American press. It might be enlightening with -respect to present conditions to consider the probabilities and -circumstances of their employment if they were here and in the flesh. -Can any one conceive of an American newspaper giving space to Hazlitt’s -work, even if he treated of the things of to-day? Even if he wrote his -opinions gratis and in the form of letters to the editor, it would -presumably be indeed a dull journalistic day when room could be found -for them. - -Sarcey, writing in the lighter French vein and being almost as much a -chroniqueur as a critic, might possibly have found opportunity to be -read in an American newspaper, if he could have curbed his independence -of thought. Starting from obscurity, it is a question whether he would -ever have been able to gain opportunity to be read simply as a critic, -for the processes by which newspaper critics are created or evolved seem -to have nothing to do with the possession of education, training, or -ability. In the majority of newspaper offices the function of dramatic -critic devolves by chance or convenience, and frequently goes by -favoritism to some member of the staff with a fondness for the theatre -and an appreciation of free seats. One of New York’s best known dailies -frankly treats theatrical reviewing as nothing more than reportorial -work, to be covered as would be any other news assignment. This -publication and a good many others are far more particular about the -technical equipment of the writers who describe baseball games, -horse-races, and prize-fights, than about the fitness of those who are -to weigh the merits of plays and acting. The ability to write without -offending the advertising theatrical manager seems in the last case to -be the only absolutely essential qualification. - -With these things in mind it will be seen that there is little to tempt -any one with ambition to contemplate dramatic criticism as a possible -profession. The uncertainty of employment, the slenderness of return, -and the limitations on freedom of expression would keep even the most -ardent lover of the theatre from thinking of criticism as a life -occupation. Given the education, the experience, the needed judicial -temperament, and the writing ability, all these are no assurance that -opportunity can be found to utilize them. - -Of themselves, the conditions that surround the calling of the critic -are enough to account for the absence from the American newspapers of -authoritative criticism. These conditions might be overcome if the -spirit of the times demanded. But there can be no such demand so long as -the press finds it more profitable to reflect the moods, thoughts, and -opinions of the public than to lead and direct them. When the changed -conditions of producing newspapers transferred the control of their -policy from the editorial rooms to the counting-rooms, the expression of -opinion on any subject became of little value compared with catering to -the popular love of sensation and the popular interest in the trivial. - -The change does not mean that there is any ignoring of the theatre in -the newspapers. The institution lends itself admirably to modern -newspaper exploitation. Destroying the fascinating mystery which once -shrouded life back of the curtain, for a long time made good copy for -the press. There is no longer any mystery, because the great space that -the newspapers devote to gossip of the theatre and its people has -flooded with publicity every corner of the institution and every event -of their lives. The process has been aided by managers through a perhaps -mistaken idea of the value of the advertising, and by artists for that -reason and for its appeal to their vanity. - -Criticism has no place in publicity of this sort, because criticism -concerns itself only with the art and the broad interests of the -theatre. The news reporter is often better qualified to describe the -milk-baths of a stage notoriety than is the ablest critic. With our -newspapers as they are, and with our public as it is, the reportorial -account of the milk-bath is of more value to the newspaper and its -readers than the most brilliant criticism that could be written of an -important event in the art of the theatre. - -With “give the people what they want” the prevailing law of press and -theatre, it is idle just now to look for dramatic criticism of value in -our newspapers. We may flatter ourselves that as a people we have a real -interest in theatrical and other arts. We can prove it by the vast sums -we spend on theatres, music, and pictures. With all our proof, we at -heart know that this is not true. Even in the more sensual art of music -we import our standards, in pictures we are governed more by cost than -quality, and in the theatre—note where most of our expenditure goes. In -that institution, with the creation of whose standards we are concerning -ourselves just now, consider the character of what are called “popular -successes,” and observe the short shrift given to most of the efforts -which call for enjoyment of the finer art of the stage through -recognition of that art when it is displayed. - -It is no disgrace that we are not an artistic people. Our -accomplishments and our interests are in other fields, where we more -than match the achievements of older civilizations. With us the theatre -is not an institution to which we turn for its literature and its -interpretations of character. We avoid it when it makes any demand on -our thinking powers. We turn to it as a relaxation from the use of those -powers in more material directions. We do not wish to study our stage, -its methods and its products. We ask it only to divert us. This is the -general attitude of the American to the theatre, and the exceptions are -few. - -In these conditions it is not strange that we have no scholarly critics -to help in establishing standards for our theatre, or that there is -little demand for real criticism, least of all in the daily press. As we -grow to be an older and more leisurely country, when our masses cease to -find in the crudities of the moving-picture their ideal of the drama, -and when our own judgments become more refined, we shall need the real -critic, and even the daily press will find room for his criticisms and -reward for his experience, ability, and judgment. - -The province and profit of our newspapers lie in interesting their -readers. Analysis of artistic endeavor is not interesting to a people -who have scant time and little inclination for any but practical and -diverting things. Until the people demand it and the conditions that -surround the critic improve, what passes for criticism in our daily -press is not likely to increase in quantity or improve in quality. - - - - - THE HUMOR OF THE COLORED SUPPLEMENT - - BY RALPH BERGENGREN - - - I - -Ten or a dozen years ago,—the exact date is here immaterial,—an -enterprising newspaper publisher conceived the idea of appealing to what -is known as the American “sense of humor” by printing a so-called comic -supplement in colors. He chose Sunday as of all days the most lacking in -popular amusements, carefully restricted himself to pictures without -humor and color without beauty, and presently inaugurated a new era in -American journalism. The colored supplement became an institution. No -Sunday is complete without it—not because its pages invariably delight, -but because, like flies in summer, there is no screen that will -altogether exclude them. A newspaper without a color press hardly -considers itself a newspaper, and the smaller journals are utterly -unmindful of the kindness of Providence in putting the guardian angel, -Poverty, outside their portals. Sometimes, indeed, they think to outwit -this kindly interference by printing a syndicated comic page without -color; and mercy is thus served in a half portion, for, uncolored, the -pictures are inevitably about twice as attractive. Some print them -without color, but on pink paper. Others rejoice, as best they may, in a -press that will reproduce at least a fraction of the original discord. -One and all they unite vigorously, as if driven by a perverse and -cynical intention, to prove the American sense of humor a thing of -national shame and degradation. Fortunately the public has so little to -say about its reading matter that one may fairly suspend judgment. - -For, after all, what is the sense of humor upon which every man prides -himself, as belonging only to a gifted minority? Nothing more nor less -than a certain mental quickness, alert to catch the point of an anecdote -or to appreciate the surprise of a new and unexpected point of view -toward an old and familiar phenomenon. Add together these gifted -minorities, and each nation reaches what is fallaciously termed the -national sense of humor—an English word, incidentally, for which -D’Israeli was unable to find an equivalent in any other language, and -which is in itself simply a natural development of the critical faculty, -born of a present need of describing what earlier ages had taken for -granted. The jovial porter and his charming chance acquaintances, the -three ladies of Bagdad, enlivened conversation with a kind of humor, -carefully removed from the translation of commerce and the public -libraries, for which they needed no descriptive noun, but which may -nevertheless be fairly taken as typical of that city in the day of the -Caliph Haroun. - -The Middle Ages rejoiced in a similar form of persiflage, and the -present day in France, Germany, England, or America, for example, -inherits it,—minus its too juvenile indecency,—in the kind of pleasure -afforded by these comic supplements. Their kinship with the lower -publications of European countries is curiously evident to whoever has -examined them. Vulgarity, in fact, speaks the same tongue in all -countries, talks, even in art-ruled France, with the same crude -draughtsmanship, and usurps universally a province that Emerson declared -“far better than wit for a poet or writer.” In its expression and -enjoyment no country can fairly claim the dubious superiority. All are -on the dead level of that surprising moment when the savage had ceased -to be dignified and man had not yet become rational. Men, indeed, speak -freely and vain-gloriously of their national sense of humor; but they -are usually unconscious idealists. For the comic cut that amuses the -most stupid Englishman may be shifted entire into an American comic -supplement; the “catastrophe joke” of the American comic weekly of the -next higher grade is stolen in quantity to delight the readers of -similar but more economical publications in Germany; the lower humor of -France, barring the expurgations demanded by Anglo-Saxon prudery, is -equally transferable; and the average American often examines on Sunday -morning, without knowing it, an international loan-exhibit. - -Humor, in other words, is cosmopolitan, reduced, since usage insists on -reducing it, at this lowest imaginable level, to such obvious and -universal elements that any intellect can grasp their combinations. And -at its highest it is again cosmopolitan, like art; like art, a -cultivated characteristic, no more spontaneously natural than a “love of -nature.” It is an insult to the whole line of English and American -humorists—Sterne, Thackeray, Dickens, Meredith, Twain, Holmes, Irving, -and others of a distinguished company—to include as humor what is merely -the crude brutality of human nature, mocking at grief and laughing -boisterously at physical deformity. And in these Sunday comics Humor, -stolen by vandals from her honest, if sometimes rough-and-ready, -companionship, thrusts a woe-be-gone visage from the painted canvas of -the national side-show, and none too poor to “shy a brick” at her. - -At no period in the world’s history has there been a steadier output of -so-called humor—especially in this country. The simple idea of printing -a page of comic pictures has produced families. The very element of -variety has been obliterated by the creation of types: a confusing -medley of impossible countrymen, mules, goats, German-Americans and -their irreverent progeny, specialized children with a genius for -annoying their elders, white-whiskered elders with a genius for playing -practical jokes on their grandchildren, policemen, Chinamen, Irishmen, -negroes, inhuman conceptions of the genus tramp, boy inventors whose -inventions invariably end in causing somebody to be mirthfully spattered -with paint or joyously torn to pieces by machinery, bright boys with a -talent for deceit, laziness, or cruelty, and even the beasts of the -jungle dehumanized to the point of practical joking. _Mirabile -dictu!_—some of these things have even been dramatized. - -With each type the reader is expected to become personally -acquainted,—to watch for its coming on Sunday mornings, happily -wondering with what form of inhumanity the author will have been able to -endow his brainless manikins. And the authors are often men of -intelligence, capable here and there of a bit of adequate drawing and an -idea that is honestly and self-respectingly provocative of laughter. -Doubtless they are often ashamed of their product; but the demand of the -hour is imperative. The presses are waiting. They, too, are both quick -and heavy. And the cry of the publisher is for “fun” that no intellect -in all his heterogeneous public shall be too dull to appreciate. We see, -indeed, the outward manifestation of a curious paradox: humor prepared -and printed for the extremely dull, and—what is still more -remarkable—excused by grown men, capable of editing newspapers, on the -ground that it gives pleasure to children. - -Reduced to first principles, therefore, it is not humor, but simply a -supply created in answer to a demand, hastily produced by machine -methods and hastily accepted by editors too busy with other editorial -duties to examine it intelligently. Under these conditions “humor” is -naturally conceived as something preëminently quick; and so quickness -predominates. Somebody is always hitting somebody else with a club; -somebody is always falling downstairs, or out of a balloon, or over a -cliff, or into a river, a barrel of paint, a basket of eggs, a -convenient cistern, or a tub of hot water. The comic cartoonists have -already exhausted every available substance into which one can fall, and -are compelled to fall themselves into a veritable ocean of vain -repetition. They have exhausted everything by which one can be blown up. -They have exhausted everything by which one can be knocked down or run -over. And if the victim is never actually killed in these mirthful -experiments, it is obviously because he would then cease to be -funny—which is very much the point of view of the Spanish Inquisition, -the cat with a mouse, or the American Indian with a captive. But respect -for property, respect for parents, for law, for decency, for truth, for -beauty, for kindliness, for dignity, or for honor, are killed, without -mercy. Morality alone, in its restricted sense of sexual relations, is -treated with courtesy, although we find throughout the accepted theory -that marriage is a union of uncongenial spirits, and the chart of petty -marital deceit is carefully laid out and marked for whoever is likely to -respond to endless unconscious suggestions. Sadly must the American -child sometimes be puzzled while comparing his own grandmother with the -visiting mother-in-law of the colored comic. - - - II - -Lest this seem a harsh, even an unkind inquiry into the innocent -amusements of other people, a few instances may be mentioned, drawn from -the Easter Sunday output of papers otherwise both respectable and -unrespectable; papers, moreover, depending largely on syndicated humor -that may fairly be said to have reached a total circulation of several -million readers. We have, to begin with, two rival versions of a -creation that made the originator famous, and that chronicle the -adventures of a small boy whose name and features are everywhere -familiar. Often these adventures, in the original youngster, have been -amusing, and amusingly seasoned with the salt of legitimately absurd -phraseology. But the pace is too fast, even for the originator. The -imitator fails invariably to catch the spirit of them, and in this -instance is driven to an ancient subterfuge. - -To come briefly to an unpleasant point: an entire page is devoted to -showing the reader how the boy was made ill by smoking his father’s -cigars. Incidentally he falls downstairs. Meanwhile, his twin is -rejoicing the readers of another comic supplement by spoiling a wedding -party; it is the minister who first comes to grief, and is stood on his -head, the boy who, later, is quite properly thrashed by an angry -mother—and it is all presumably very delightful and a fine example for -the imitative genius of other children. Further, we meet a mule who -kicks a policeman and whose owner is led away to the lockup; a manicured -vacuum who slips on a banana peel, crushes the box containing his -fiancée’s Easter bonnet, and is assaulted by her father (he, after the -manner of comic fathers, having just paid one hundred dollars for the -bonnet out of a plethoric pocketbook); a nondescript creature, -presumably human, who slips on another banana peel and knocks over a -citizen, who in turn knocks over a policeman, and is also marched off to -undeserved punishment. We see the German-American child covering his -father with water from a street gutter; another child deluging his -parent with water from a hose; another teasing his younger brother and -sister. To keep the humor of the banana peel in countenance, we find the -picture of a fat man accidentally sitting down on a tack; he exclaims, -“Ouch!” throws a basket of eggs into the air, and they come down on the -head of the boy who arranged the tacks. We see two white boys beating a -little negro over the head with a plank (the hardness of the negro’s -skull here affording the humorous _motif_), and we see an idiot blowing -up a mule with dynamite. Lunacy, in short, could go no further than this -pandemonium of undisguised coarseness and brutality—the humor offered on -Easter Sunday morning by leading American newspapers for the edification -of American readers. - -And every one of the countless creatures, even to the poor, maligned -dumb animals, is saying something. To the woeful extravagance of foolish -acts must be added an equal extravagance of foolish words: “Out with -you, intoxicated rowdy!” “Shut up!” “Skidoo!” “They’ve set the dog on -me.” “Hee-haw.” “My uncle had it tooken in Hamburg.” “Dat old gentleman -will slip on dem banana skins,” “Little Buster got all that was coming -to him.” “Aw, shut up!” “Y-e-e-e G-o-d-s!” “Ouch!” “Golly, dynamite am -powerful stuff.” “I am listening to vat der vild vaves is sedding.” “I -don’t think Pa and I will ever get along together until he gets rid of -his conceit.” “Phew!” - -The brightness of this repartee could be continued indefinitely; -profanity, of course, is indicated by dashes and exclamation points; a -person who has fallen overboard says, “Blub!” concussion is visibly -represented by stars; “biff” and “bang” are used, according to taste, to -accompany a blow on the nose or an explosion of dynamite. - -From this brief summary it may be seen how few are the fundamental -conceptions that supply the bulk of almost the entire output, and in -these days of syndicated ideas a comparatively small body of men produce -the greater part of it. Physical pain is the most glaringly omnipresent -of these motifs; it is counted upon invariably to amuse the average -humanity of our so-called Christian civilization. The entire group of -Easter Sunday pictures constitutes a saturnalia of prearranged accidents -in which the artist is never hampered by the exigencies of logic; -machinery in which even the presupposed poorest intellect might be -expected to detect the obvious flaw accomplishes its evil purpose with -inevitable accuracy; jails and lunatic asylums are crowded with new -inmates; the policeman always uses his club or revolver; the parents -usually thrash their offspring at the end of the performance; household -furniture is demolished, clothes ruined, and unsalable eggs broken by -the dozen. Deceit is another universal concept of humor, which combines -easily with the physical pain _motif_; and mistaken identity, in which -the juvenile idiot disguises himself and deceives his parents in various -ways, is another favorite resort of the humorists. The paucity of -invention is hardly less remarkable than the willingness of the -inventors to sign their products, or the willingness of editors to -publish them. But the age is notoriously one in which editors underrate -and insult the public intelligence. - -Doubtless there are some to applaud the spectacle,—the imitative -spirits, for example, who recently compelled a woman to seek the -protection of a police department because of the persecution of a gang -of boys and young men shouting “hee-haw” whenever she appeared on the -street; the rowdies whose exploits figure so frequently in metropolitan -newspapers; or that class of adults who tell indecent stories at the -dinner-table and laugh joyously at their wives’ efforts to turn the -conversation. But the Sunday comic goes into other homes than these, and -is handed to their children by parents whose souls would shudder at the -thought of a dime novel. Alas, poor parents! That very dime novel as a -rule holds up ideals of bravery and chivalry, rewards good and punishes -evil, offers at the worst a temptation to golden adventuring, for which -not one child in a million will ever attempt to surmount the obvious -obstacles. It is no easy matter to become an Indian fighter, pirate, or -detective; the dream is, after all, a day-dream, tinctured with the -beautiful color of old romance, and built on eternal qualities that the -world has rightfully esteemed worthy of emulation. And in place of it -the comic supplement, like that other brutal horror, the juvenile comic -story, which goes on its immoral way unnoticed, raises no high ambition, -but devotes itself to “mischief made easy.” Hard as it is to become an -Indian fighter, any boy has plenty of opportunity to throw stones at his -neighbor’s windows. And on any special occasion, such, for example, as -Christmas or Washington’s Birthday, almost the entire ponderous machine -is set in motion to make reverence and ideals ridiculous. Evil example -is strong in proportion as it is easy to imitate. The state of mind that -accepts the humor of the comic weekly is the same as that which shudders -at Ibsen, and smiles complacently at the musical comedy, with its open -acceptance of the wild-oats theory, and its humorous exposition of a -kind of wild oats that youth may harvest without going out of its own -neighborhood. - -In all this noisy, explosive, garrulous pandemonium one finds here and -there a moment of rest and refreshment—the work of the few pioneers of -decency and decorum brave enough to bring their wares to the noisome -market and lucky enough to infuse their spirit of refinement, art, and -genuine humor into its otherwise hopeless atmosphere. Preëminent among -them stands the inventor of “Little Nemo in Slumberland,” a man of -genuine pantomimic humor, charming draughtsmanship, and an excellent -decorative sense of color, who has apparently studied his medium and -makes the best of it. And with him come Peter Newell, Grace G. -Weiderseim, and Condé,—now illustrating _Uncle Remus_ for a Sunday -audience,—whose pictures in some of the Sunday papers are a delightful -and self-respecting proof of the possibilities of this type of -journalism. Out of the noisy streets, the cheap restaurants with their -unsteady-footed waiters and avalanches of soup and crockery, out of the -slums, the quarreling families, the prisons and the lunatic asylums, we -step for a moment into the world of childish fantasy, closing the iron -door behind us and trying to shut out the clamor of hooting mobs, the -laughter of imbeciles, and the crash of explosives. After all, there is -no reason why children should not have their innocent amusement on -Sunday morning; but there seems to be every reason why the average -editor of the weekly comic supplement should be given a course in art, -literature, common sense, and Christianity. - - - - - THE AMERICAN GRUB STREET - - BY JAMES H. COLLINS - - - I - -New York’s theatres, cafés, and hotels, with many of her industries, are -supported by a floating population. The provinces know this, and it -pleases them mightily. But how many of the actual inhabitants of New -York know of the large floating population that is associated with her -magazines, newspapers, and publishing interests?—a floating population -of the arts, mercenaries of pen and typewriter, brush and camera, living -for the most part in the town and its suburbs, yet leading an unattached -existence, that, to the provincial accustomed to dealing with life on a -salary, seems not only curious but extremely precarious—as it often is. - -The free-lance writer and artist abound in the metropolis, and with them -is associated a motley free-lance crew that has no counterpart elsewhere -on this continent. New York’s “Grub Street” is one of the truest -indications of her metropolitan character. In other American cities the -newspaper is written, illustrated, and edited by men and women on -salaries, as are the comparatively few magazines and the technical press -covering our country’s material activities. But in New York, while -hundreds of editors, writers, and artists also rely upon a stated, -definite stipend, several times as many more live without salaried -connections, sometimes by necessity, but as often by choice. These are -the dwellers in Grub Street. - -This thoroughfare has no geographical definition. Many of the natives of -Manhattan Island know as little of it as do the truck loads of visitors -“seeing New York,” who cross and recross it unwittingly. Grub Street -begins nowhere and ends nowhere; yet between these vague terminals it -runs to all points of the compass, turns sharp corners, penetrates -narrow passageways, takes its pedestrians up dark old stairways one -moment and through sumptuous halls of steel and marble the next, -touching along the way more diverse interests than any of the actual -streets of Manhattan, and embracing ideals, tendencies, influences, and -life-currents that permeate the nation’s whole material and spiritual -existence. Greater Grub Street is so unobtrusive that a person with no -affair to transact therein might dwell a quarter-century in New York and -never discover it; yet it is likewise so palpable and vast to its -denizens that by no ordinary circumstances would any of them be likely -to explore all its infinite arteries, veins, and ganglia. - -Not long ago there arrived on Park Row for the first time in his life a -newspaper reporter of conspicuous ability along a certain line. In the -West he had made a name for his knack at getting hold of corporate -reports and court decisions several days in advance of rival papers. -Once, in Chicago, by climbing over the ceiling of a jury-room, he was -able to publish the verdict in a sensational murder trial a half-hour -before it had been brought in to the judge. A man invaluable in -following the devious windings of the day’s history as it must be -written in newspapers, he had come to Park Row as the ultimate field of -development for his especial talent. To demonstrate what he had done, he -brought along a thick sheaf of introductory letters from Western -editors. There was one for every prominent editor and publisher in the -New York newspaper field, yet after all had been delivered it seemed to -avail nothing. Nobody had offered him a situation. - -“The way to get along in New York is to go out and get the stuff,” -explained a free lance whom he fell in with in a William Street -restaurant. “Get copy they can’t turn down—deliver the goods.” - -In that dull summer season all the papers were filled with gossip about -a subscription book that had been sold at astonishing prices to that -unfailing resource of newspapers, the “smart set.” Charges of blackmail -flew through the city. Official investigation had failed to reveal -anything definite about the work, which was said to be in process of -printing. In twenty-four hours the newcomer from the West appeared in -the office of a managing editor with specimen pages of the book itself. -Where he had got them nobody knew. No one cared. They were manifestly -genuine, and within two hours a certain sensational newspaper scored a -“beat.” At last accounts he was specializing in the same line, obtaining -the unobtainable and selling it where it would bring the best price. - -This is one type of free lance. - -At the other end of the scale may be cited the all-around scientific -worker who came to the metropolis several years ago, after long -experience in the departments at Washington. Lack of influence there had -thrown him on the world at forty. Accustomed to living on the rather -slender salary that goes with a scientific position, and knowing no -other way of getting a livelihood, he set out to find in New York a -place similar to that he had held in the capital. He is a man who has -followed the whole trend of modern scientific progress as a practical -investigator—a deviser of experiments and experimental apparatus, a -skilled technical draughtsman, a writer on scientific subjects, and a -man of field experience in surveying and research that has taken him all -over the world. New York offered him nothing resembling the work he had -done in Washington; but in traveling about the town among scientific and -technical publishers he got commissions to write an article or two for -an encyclopedia. These led him into encyclopedic illustration as well, -and then he took charge of a whole section of the work, gathering his -materials outside, writing and drawing at home, and visiting the -publisher’s office only to deliver the finished copy. Encyclopedia -writing and illustration has since become his specialty. His wide -experience and knowledge fit him to cope with diverse subjects, and he -earns an income which, if not nearly so large as that of the free-lance -reporter, is quite as satisfactory as his Washington salary. As soon as -one encyclopedia is finished in New York, another is begun, and from -publisher to publisher go a group of encyclopedic free-lances, who will -furnish an article on integral calculus or the Vedic pantheon, with -diagrams and illustrations—and very good articles at that. - - - II - -Who but a Balzac will take a census of Greater Grub Street, enumerating -its aristocrats, its well-to-do obscure bourgeois, its Bohemians, its -rakes and evil-doers, its artisans and struggling lower classes? Among -its citizens are the materials of a newer _Comédie Humaine_. The two -personalities outlined above merely set a vague intellectual boundary to -this world. In its many kinds and stations of workers Grub Street is as -irreducible as nebulæ. Its aristocracy is to be found any time in that -“Peerage” of Grub Street, the contents pages of the better magazines, -where are arrayed the names of successful novelists, essayists, and -short-story writers, of men and women who deal with specialties such as -travel, historical studies, war correspondence, nature interpretation, -sociology, politics, and every other side of life and thought; and here, -too, are enlisted their morganatic relatives, the poets and versifiers, -and their showy, prosperous kindred, the illustrators, who may be -summoned from Grub Street to paint a portrait at Newport. This peerage -is real, for no matter upon what stratum of Grub Street each newcomer -may ultimately find his level of ability, this is the goal that was -aimed at in the beginning. This is the Dream. - -Staid, careful burghers of the arts, producing their good, dull, staple -necessities in screed and picture, live about the lesser magazines, the -women’s periodicals, the trade and technical press, the syndicates that -supply “Sunday stuff” to newspapers all over the land, the nameless, -mediocre publications that are consumed by our rural population in -million editions. The Bohemian element is found writing “on space” for -newspapers this month, furnishing the press articles of a theatre or an -actress the next, running the gamut of the lesser magazines feverishly, -flitting hither and thither, exhausting its energies with wasteful -rapidity, and never learning the business tact and regularity that keep -the burgher in comfort and give his name a standing at the savings bank. -The criminal class of Grub Street includes the peddler of false news, -the adapter of other men’s ideas, and the swindler who copies published -articles and pictures outright, trusting to luck to elude the editorial -police. The individual in this stratum has a short career and not a -merry one; but the class persists with the persistence of the parasite. -Grub Street’s artisans are massed about the advertising agencies, -producing the plausible arguments put forth for the world of -merchandise, and the many varieties of illustration that go with them; -while the nameless driftwood which floats about the whole thoroughfare -includes no one knows how many hundreds of aspirants whose talents do -not suffice for any of these classes, together with the peddler of other -men’s wares on commission, who perhaps ekes out a life by entering as a -super at the theatres, the artists’ models, both men and women, who pose -in summer and are away with a theatrical company in winter, the dullard, -the drone, the ne’er-do-well, the palpable failure. At one end, Art’s -chosen sons and daughters; at the other, her content, misguided dupes. - -The free lance is bred naturally in New York, and thrives in its -atmosphere, because the market for his wares is stable and infinitely -varied. The demand he satisfies could be appeased by no other system. -The very life of metropolitan publishing lies in the search for new men -and variety. Publishers spend great sums upon the winnowing machinery -that threshes over what comes to their editors’ desks, and no editor in -the metropolis grudges the time necessary to talk with those who call in -person and have ideas good enough to carry them past his assistants. -Publicly, the editorial tribe may lament the many hours spent yearly in -this winnowing process. Yet every experienced editor in New York has his -own story of the stranger, uncouth, unpromising, unready of speech, who -stole in late one afternoon and seemed to have almost nothing in him, -yet who afterwards became the prolific Scribbler or the great D’Auber. -Not an editor of consequence but who, if he knew that to-morrow this -ceaseless throng of free lances, good, bad, and impossible, had declared -a Chinese boycott upon him and would visit his office no more, would -regard it as the gravest of crises. - -New York provides a market so wide for the wares of the free lance that -almost anything in the way of writing or picture can eventually be sold, -if it is up to a certain standard of mediocrity. A trained salesman -familiar with values in the world of merchandise would consider this -market one of the least exacting, most constant, and remunerative. And -it is a market to be regarded, on the whole, in terms of merchandise. -Not genius or talent sets the standards, but ordinary good workmanship. -Magazines are simply the apex of the demand—that corner of the mart -where payment is perhaps highest and the byproduct of reputation -greatest. For each of the fortunate workers whose names figure in the -magazine peerage, there are virtually hundreds who produce for -purchasers and publications quite unknown to the general public, and -often their incomes are equal to those of the established fiction writer -or popular illustrator. - -New York has eight Sunday newspapers that buy matter for their own -editions and supply it in duplicate to other Sunday newspapers -throughout the country under a syndicate arrangement. Perhaps an average -of five hundred columns of articles, stories, interviews, children’s -stuff, household and feminine gossip, humor, verse, and miscellany, with -illustrations, are produced every week for this demand alone; and at -least fifty per cent of the yearly $150,000 that represents its lowest -value to the producers is paid to free-lance workers. The rest goes to -men on salary who write Sunday matter at space rates. This item is -wholly distinct from the equally great mass of Sunday stuff written for -the same papers by salaried men. Several independent syndicates also -supply a similar class of matter to papers throughout the United States, -for both Sunday and daily use. This syndicate practice has, within the -past ten years, made New York a veritable journalistic provider for the -rest of the nation. The metropolis supplies the Sunday reading of the -American people, largely because it has the resources of Grub Street to -draw upon. Syndicate matter is cheaper than the provincial product, it -is true; but not price alone is accountable for this supremacy of the -syndicate. By the side of the workmanlike stories, articles, skits, and -pictures supplied by Greater Grub Street, the productions of a -provincial newspaper staff on salary grow monotonous in their sameness, -and reveal themselves by their less skillful handling. - -The Sunday-reading industry provides a market, not only for writers and -artists, but also for photographers, caricaturists, cartoonists, makers -of squibs and jokes, experts in fashions, devisers of puzzles, men and -women who sell ideas for novel Sunday supplements, such as those printed -in sympathetic inks, and the like. It is a peculiarity of our country -worth noting, that all our published humor finds its outlet through the -newspapers. Though England, Germany, France, and other countries have a -humorous press distinctly apart, the United States has only one humorous -journal that may be called national in tone. An overwhelming tide of -caricature and humor sweeps through our daily papers, but the larger -proportion is found in the illustrated comic sheets of the leading New -York dailies; and these are syndicated in a way that gives them a -tremendous national circulation. The Sunday comic sheet, whatever one -wishes to say of its quality, was built in Greater Grub Street, and -there, to-day, its foundations rest. - -In Grub Street, too, dwells the army of workers who furnish what -might be called the cellulose of our monthly and weekly -publications—interviews, literary gossip, articles of current news -interest, matter interesting to women, to children, to every class -and occupation. As there are magazines for the servant girl and -clerk, so there are magazines for the millionaire with a country -estate, the business man studying system and methods, the woman with -social or literary aspirations, the family planning travel or a -vacation. To-day it is a sort of axiom in the publishing world that -a new magazine, to succeed, must have a new specialty. Usually this -will be a material one, for our current literature deals with things -rather than thought; it is healthy but never top-heavy. Each new -magazine interest discovered is turned over to Greater Grub Street -for development, and here it is furnished with matter to fit the new -point of view, drawings and photographs to make it plain, editors to -guide, and sometimes a publisher to send it to market. - -Then come, rank on rank, the trade and technical periodicals, of which -hundreds are issued weekly and monthly in New York. These touch the -whole range of industry and commerce. They deal with banking, law, -medicine, insurance, manufacturing, and the progress of merchandise of -every kind through the wholesale, jobbing, and retailing trades, with -invention and mechanical science, with crude staples and finished -commodities, with the great main channels of production and distribution -and the little by-corners of the mart. Some of them are valuable -publishing properties; more are insignificant; yet each has to go to -press regularly, and all must be filled with their own particular kinds -of news, comment, technical articles, and pictures. Theirs is a -difficult point of view for the free lance, and on this account much of -their contents is written by salaried editors and assistants. -Contributions come, too, from engineers, scientists, bankers, attorneys, -physicians, and specialists in every part of the country. Foremen and -superintendents and mechanics in some trades send in roughly outlined -diagrams and descriptions that enable the quick-witted editors to see -“how the blamed thing works” and write the finished article. The -American trade press is still in an early stage of development on its -literary side. It has grown up largely within the past two decades, and -still lacks literary workmanship. To hundreds of free-lance workers this -field is now either unknown or underestimated. Yet year after year men -disappear from Park Row and the round of Magazinedom, to be found, if -any one would take the trouble to look them up, among the trade -journals. Some of the great properties in this class belong to -journalists who saw an opportunity a decade ago, and grasped it. - - - III - -The trade journals lead directly into the field of advertising, which -has grown into a phenomenal outlet for free lance energies in the past -ten years, and is still growing at a rate that promises to make it the -dominant market of Grub Street. A glance through the advertising -sections of the seventy-five or more monthly and weekly magazines -published in New York reveals only a fraction of this demand, for a mass -of writing and illustration many times greater is produced for -catalogues, booklets, folders, circulars, advertising in the religious, -agricultural, and trade press, and other purposes. Much of it is the -work of men on salary, yet advertising takes so many ingenious forms and -is so constantly striving for the novel and excellent, that almost every -writer and illustrator of prominence receives in the course of the year -commissions for special advertising work, and fat commissions, too. -Often the fine drawing one sees as the centre of attraction in a -magazine advertisement is the work of a man or woman of reputation among -the readers of magazines, delivered with the understanding that it is to -be published unsigned. - -The advertising demand is divided into two classes—that represented by -business firms which prepare their own publicity, and that for the -advertising agencies which prepare and forward to periodicals the -advertising of many business houses, receiving for their service a -commission from the publishers. It is among the latter especially that -the free lance finds his market, for the agencies handle a varied mass -of work and are continually calling in men who can furnish fresh ideas. -One of the leading advertising agencies keeps in a great file the names -and addresses of several hundred free-lance workers—writers, sculptors, -illustrators, portrait painters, translators, news and illustrating -photographers, fashion designers, authorities in silver and virtu, -book-reviewers, journalists with such specialties as sports, social -news, and the markets. Each is likely to be called on for something in -his particular line as occasions arise. - -This concern, for example, may receive a commission to furnish a -handsomely bound miniature book on servants’ liveries for a clothing -manufacturer, or a history of silver plate to be privately printed and -distributed among the patrons of a great jewelry house. For a simple -folder to advertise a brand of whiskey, perhaps, the sporting editor of -a leading daily newspaper is asked to compile information about -international yacht-racing. From Union Square may be seen a large wall, -upon which is painted a quaint landscape of gigantic proportions. It is -a bit of thoroughly artistic design, fitting into the general color -scheme of the square, and its attractiveness gives it minor advertising -value for the firm that has taken an original way of masking a blank -wall. This decoration was painted from a small design, made for the -above advertising agency by a painter of prominence. The same agency, in -compiling a catalogue of cash registers some time ago, referred to their -utilitarian ugliness of design. The cash register manufacturers -protested that these were the best designs they had been able to make, -whereupon the advertising agency commissioned four sculptors, who -elaborated dainty cash-register cases in the _art nouveau_ manner, for -installation in cafés, milliners’ shops, and other fine establishments. - -Advertising requires versatility of a high order. A newspaper writer, so -long as he makes his articles interesting to the widest public, is not -required to give too strict attention to technicalities—he writes upon -this subject to-day and upon one at the opposite pole to-morrow. A -writer for a trade journal, on the other hand, need not give pains to -human interest if his technical grasp of the iron market, the -haberdashery trade, or the essentials of machine-shop practice is sure. -Moreover, each year’s experience in writing for a trade journal adds to -his knowledge of its subject and makes his work so much the surer and -simpler. But the writer of advertising must combine human interest with -strict accuracy; his subject is constantly changing, unless he is a -specialist in a certain line, taking advertising commissions at -intervals. To-day he studies the methods of making cigars and the many -different kinds of tobacco that enter therein; to-morrow he writes a -monograph on enameled tin cans, investigating the processes of making -them in the factory; and the day after that his topic may be breakfast -foods, taking him into investigations of starch, gluten, digestive -functions, diet and health, and setting him upon a weary hunt for -synonyms to describe the “rich nutty flavor” that all breakfast foods -are said to have. All the illustrative work of an advertising artist -must be so true to detail that it will pass the eyes of men who spend -their lives making the things he pictures. The Camusots and Matifats no -longer provide costly orgies for Grub Street, sitting by meekly to enjoy -the flow of wit and banter. They now employ criticism in moulding their -literature of business. It was one of them who, difficult to please in -circulars, looked over the manuscript submitted by an advertising free -lance with more approval than was his custom. “This is not bad,” he -commented; “not bad at all—and yet—I have seen all these words used -before.” - -An interesting new development of advertising is the business -periodical, a journal published by a large manufacturer, usually, and -sent out monthly to retail agents or his consuming public. In its pages -are printed articles about the manufacturer’s product, descriptions of -its industrial processes, news of the trade, and miscellany. Many of -these periodicals are extremely interesting for themselves. There must -be dozens of them in New York—none of the newspaper directories list -them. Writers who are not especially familiar with the product with -which they deal often furnish a style of matter for them that is valued -for its fresh point of view and freedom from trade and technical -phraseology. These publications range from journals of a dozen pages, -issued on the “every little while” plan for the retail trade of a rubber -hose manufacturer, to the monthly magazine which a stocking jobber mails -to thousands of youngsters all over the land to keep them loyal to his -goods. - -This, then, is the market in its main outlines. But a mass of detail has -been eliminated. In groups large and small there are the poster artists -who work for theatrical managers and lithographers; the strange, obscure -folk who write the subterranean dime-novel stories of boyhood; the -throngs of models who go from studio to studio, posing at the uniform -rate of fifty cents an hour whether they work constantly or seldom; the -engravers who have made an art of retouching half-tone plates; the great -body of crafts-and-arts workers which has sprung up in the past five -years and which leads the free-lance life in studios, selling pottery, -decorated china, wood, and metal work to rich patrons; the serious -painters whose work is found in exhibitions, and the despised “buckeye” -painter who paints for the department stores and cheap picture shops; -the etchers, the portrait painters, and the “spotknockers” who lay in -the tones of the crude “crayon portrait” for popular consumption—these -and a multitude of others inhabit Greater Grub Street, knowing no -regularity of employment, of hours, or of income. - - - IV - -While its opportunities are without conceivable limitation, Grub Street -is not a thoroughfare littered with currency, but is paved with -cobblestones as hard as any along the other main avenues of New York’s -life and energy. The Great Man of the Provinces, landing at Cortlandt or -Twenty-third Street after an apprenticeship at newspaper work in a minor -city, steps into a world strangely different from the one he has known. -For, just to be a police reporter elsewhere is to be a journalist, and -journalism is the same as literature, and literature is honorable, and a -little mysterious, and altogether different from the management of a -stove foundry, or the proprietorship of a grocery house, or any other of -the overwhelmingly material things that make up American life. Times -have not greatly changed since Lucien de Rubempré was the lion of Madame -de Bargeton’s salon at Angoulême, and this is a matter they seem to have -ordered no better in provincial France. To be a writer or artist of any -calibre elsewhere breeds a form of homage and curiosity and a certain -sure social standing. But New York strikes a chill over the Great Man of -the Provinces, because it is nothing at all curious or extraordinary for -one to write or draw in a community where thousands live by these -pursuits. They carry no homage or social standing on their face, and the -editorial world is even studied in its uncongeniality toward the -newcomer, because he is so fearfully likely to prove one of the -ninety-nine in every hundred aspirants who cannot draw or write well -enough. The ratio that holds in the mass of impossible manuscript and -sketches that pours into every editorial office is also the ratio of the -living denizens of Grub Street. The Great Man of the Provinces is -received on the assumption that he is unavailable, with thanks, and the -hope that he will not consider this a reflection upon his literary or -artistic merit. - -So he finds himself altogether at sea for a while. No Latin Quarter -welcomes him, for this community has no centre. His estimates of -magazine values, formed at a distance, are quickly altered. Many lines -of work he had never dreamed of, and channels for selling it, come to -light day by day. To pass the building where even _Munsey’s_ is -published gives him a thrill the first time; yet after a few months in -New York he finds that the great magazines, instead of being nearer, are -really farther away than they were in the provinces. Of the other -workers he meets, few aspire to them, while of this few only a fraction -get into their pages. He calls on editors, perhaps, and finds them a -strange, non-committal caste, talking very much like their own rejection -slips. No editor will definitely give him a commission, even if he -submits an idea that seems good, but can at most be brought to admit -under pressure that, if the Great Man were to find himself in that -neighborhood with the idea all worked up, the editor _might_ be -interested in seeing it, perhaps even reading it—yet he must not -understand this as in any way binding ... the magazine is very full just -at present ... hadn’t he better try the newspapers, now? For there are -more blanks than prizes walking the Grub Street paving, and persons of -unsound minds have been known to take to literature as a last resort, -and the most dangerous person to the editor is not a rejected -contributor at all, but one who has been accepted once and sees a gleam -of a chance that he may be again. - -If the Great Man really has “stuff” in him, he stops calling on editors -and submits his offerings by mail. Even if he attains print in a worthy -magazine, he may work a year without seeing its notable contributors, or -its minor ones, or its handmaidens, or even its office-boy. Two men -jostled one another on Park Row one morning as they were about to enter -the same newspaper building, apologized, and got into the elevator -together. There a third introduced them, when it turned out that one had -been illustrating the work of the other for two years, and each had -wished to know the other, but never got around to it. An individual -circle of friends is easily formed in Grub Street, but the community as -a whole lives far and wide and has no coherence. - -What ability or skill the Great Man brought from his province may be -only the foundation for real work. There will surely be extensive -revising of ideals and methods. A story is told of a poet who came to -the metropolis with a completed epic. This found no acceptance, so after -cursing the stupidity of the public and the publishers, he took to -writing “Sunday stuff.” Soon the matter-of-fact attitude of the workers -around him, with the practical view of the market he acquired, led him -to doubt the literary value of the work he had done in the sentimental -atmosphere of his native place. Presently a commission to write a column -of humor a week came to him, and he cut his epic into short lengths, -tacked a squib on each fragment, and eventually succeeded in printing it -all as humor, at a price many times larger than the historic one brought -by _Paradise Lost_. Another newcomer brought unsalable plays and high -notions of the austerity of the artistic vocation. Three months after -his arrival he was delighted to get a commission to write the handbook a -utilitarian publisher proposed to sell to visitors seeing the -metropolis. This commission not only brought a fair payment for the -manuscript on delivery, but involved a vital secondary consideration. -The title of the work was “Where to Eat in New York,” and its -preparation made it necessary for the author to dine each evening for a -month in a different café at the proprietor’s expense. - -This practical atmosphere of Grub Street eventually makes for -development in the writer or artist who has talent. It is an atmosphere -suited to work, for the worker is left alone in the solitude of the -multitude. False ideals and sentimentality fade from his life, and his -style takes on directness and vigor. Greater Grub Street is not given to -reviling the public for lack of ideals or appreciation. The free lance’s -contact with the real literary market, day after day, teaches him that, -as soon as he can produce the manuscript of the great American novel, -there are editors who may be trusted to perceive its merit, and -publishers ready to buy. - - - V - -This free-lance community of the metropolis is housed all over Manhattan -Island, as well as in the suburbs and adjacent country for a hundred -miles or more around. An amusing census of joke-writers and humorists -was made not long ago by a little journal which a New Jersey railroad -publishes in the interest of its suburban passenger traffic. It was -shown, by actual names and places of residence, that more than three -fourths of the writers who keep the suburban joke alive live in Suburbia -themselves. - -New York has no Latin Quarter. As her publications are scattered over -the city from Park Row to Forty-second Street, so the dwellings of -free-lance workers are found everywhere above Washington Square. There -are numerous centres, however. Washington Square is one for newspaper -men and women, and in its boarding-houses and apartment hotels are also -found many artists who labor in studios near by. Tenth Street, between -Broadway and Sixth Avenue, has a few studios remaining, surrounded by -the rising tide of the wholesale clothing trade, chief among them being -the Fleischmann Building, next Grace Church, and the old studio building -near Sixth Avenue. More old studios are found in Fourteenth Street; and -around Union Square the new skyscrapers house a prosperous class of -illustrators who do not follow the practice of living with their work. -On the south side of Twenty-third Street, from Broadway to Fourth -Avenue, is a row of old-time studios, and pretty much the whole gridiron -of cross streets between Union and Madison squares has others, old and -new. Thence, Grub Street proceeds steadily uptown until, in the -neighborhood of Central Park, it may be said to have arrived. - -Look over the roofs in any of these districts and the toplight hoods may -be seen, always facing north, as though great works were expected from -that point of the compass. Grub Street is the top layer of New York, and -dislikes to be far from the roof. A studio that has been inhabited by a -succession of artists and writers for twenty, thirty, forty years, may -be tenanted to-day by a picturesque young man in slouch hat, loose -neckerchief, and paint-flecked clothes, who eats about at cheap cafés, -and sleeps on a cot that in daytime serves as a lounge under its dusty -Oriental canopy. The latter ornament is the unfailing mark of that kind -of studio, and with it go, in some combination, a Japanese umbrella and -a fish-net. This young man makes advertising pictures, perhaps, or puts -the frames around the half-tone illustrations for a Sunday newspaper. By -that he lives, and for his present fame draws occasional “comics” for -_Life_. But with an eye to Immortality, he paints, so that there are -always sketching trips to be made, and colors to putter with, and art, -sacred art, to talk of in the terms of the technician. Or such an old -studio may shelter some forlorn spinster who ekes out a timid existence -by painting dinner cards or the innumerable whatnots produced and sold -by her class in Grub Street. - -In the newer studios are found two methods of working. Prosperous -illustrators, writers, and teachers may prefer a studio in an office -building, where no one is permitted to pass the night, conducting their -affairs with the aid of a stenographer and an office boy. Others live -and work in the newer studios that have been built above Twenty-third -Street in the past decade. Few of the traditions of Bohemia are -preserved by successful men and women. The young man of the Sunday -supplement, and the amateur dauber, once he succeeds as a magazine -illustrator, drops his slouch hat, becomes conventional in dress, and -ceases to imitate outwardly an artistic era that is past. Success brings -him in contact with persons of truer tastes, and he changes to match his -new environment. This is so fundamental in Grub Street that the ability -of any of its denizens may be gauged by the editor’s experienced eye; -the less a given individual dresses like the traditional artist or -writer of the Parisian Latin Quarter, the nearer he is, probably, to -being one. - -Women make up a large proportion of the dwellers in Grub Street, and its -open market, holding to no distinctions of sex in payment for acceptable -work, is in their favor. Any of the individual markets offers a fair -field for their work, and in most of them the feminine product is sought -as a foil to the staple masculine. - -What is the average Grub Street income? That would be difficult to know, -for the free lance, as a rule, keeps no cash-book. Many workers exist on -earnings no larger than those of a country clergyman, viewed -comparatively from the standpoint of expenses, and among them are men -and women of real ability. Given the magic of business tact, they might -soon double their earnings. Business ability is the secret of monetary -success in Greater Grub Street. One must know where to sell, and also -what to produce. It pays to aim high and get into the currents of the -best demand, where prices are better, terms fairer, and competition an -absolute nullity. Even the cheapest magazines and newspapers pay well -when the free lance knows how to produce for them. Hundreds of workers -are ill paid because they have not the instinct of the compiler. -Scissors are mightier than the pen in this material market; with them -the skillful ones write original articles and books—various information -brought together in a new focus. - -While untold thousands of impossible articles drift about the editorial -offices, these editors are looking for what they cannot often describe. -A successful worker in Grub Street divines this need and submits the -thing itself. Often the need is most tangible. For two weeks after the -Martinique disaster the newspapers and syndicates were hunting articles -about volcanoes—not profound treatises, but ordinary workmanlike -accounts such as could be tried out of any encyclopedia. Yet hundreds of -workers, any one of whom might have compiled the needed articles, -continued to send in compositions dealing with abstract subjects, things -far from life and events, and were turned down in the regular routine. -Only a small proportion of free lances ever become successful, but those -who do, achieve success by attention to demand, with the consequence -that most of their work is sold before it is written. - -This community is perhaps the most diversified to be found in a national -centre of thought and energy. Paris, London, Munich, Vienna, Rome—each -has the artistic tradition and atmosphere, coming down through the -centuries. But this Grub Street of the new world is wholly material,—a -“boom town” of the arts,—embodying in its brain and heart only -prospects, hopes. Its artistic rating is written plainly in our current -literature. There is real artistic struggle and aspiration in it all, -undoubtedly, but not enough to sweeten the mass. - -Greater Grub Street is utilitarian. That which propels it is not Art, -but Advertising—not Clio or Calliope, but Circulation. - - - - - JOURNALISM AS A CAREER - - BY CHARLES MOREAU HARGER - - - I - -In a recent discussion with a successful business man concerning an -occupation for the business man’s son, a college graduate, some one -suggested: “Set him up with a newspaper. He likes the work and is -capable of success.” - -“Nothing in it,” was the prompt reply. “He can make more money with a -clothing store, have less worry and annoyance, and possess the respect -of more persons.” - -This response typifies the opinion of many fathers regarding a newspaper -career. It is especially common to the business man in the rural and -semi-rural sections. The dry-goods merchant who has a stock worth twenty -thousand dollars, and makes a profit of from three thousand dollars to -five thousand dollars a year, realizes that the editor’s possessions are -meagre, and believes his income limited. He likewise hears complaints -and criticisms of the paper. Comparing his own placid money-making -course with, what he assumes to be the stormy and unprofitable struggle -of the publisher, he considers the printing business an inferior -occupation. - -For this view the old-time editor is largely responsible. For decades it -was his pride to make constant reference to his poverty-stricken -condition, to beg subscribers to bring cord-wood and potatoes on -subscription, to glorify as a philanthropist the farmer who “called -to-day and dropped a dollar in the till.” The poor-editor joke is as -well established as the mother-in-law joke or the lover-and-angry-father -joke, and about as unwarranted; yet it has built up a sentiment, false -in fact and suggestion, often accepted as truth. - -To the younger generation, journalism presents another aspect. The -fascination of doing things, of being in the forefront of the world’s -activities, appeals to young men and young women of spirit. Few are they -who do not consider themselves qualified to succeed should they choose -this profession. To the layman it seems so easy and so pleasant to write -the news and comment of the day, to occupy a seat on the stage at public -meetings, to pass the fire-lines unquestioned. - -Not until the first piece of copy is handed in does the beginner -comprehend the magnitude of his task or the demand made upon him for -technical skill. When he sees the editor slash, blue-pencil, and -rearrange his story, he appreciates how much he has yet to learn. Of -this he was ignorant in his high school and his college days, and he was -confident of his ability. An expression of choice of a life-work by the -freshman class of a college or university will give a large showing for -journalism; in the senior year it will fall to a minor figure, not more -than from three to seven per cent of the whole. By that period the -students have learned some things concerning life, and have decided, -either because of temperament, or as did the business man for his son, -for some other profession. - -To those who choose it deliberately as a life-work, obtaining a position -presents as many difficulties as it does in any other profession. The -old-time plan by which the beginner began as “devil,” sweeping out the -office, cleaning the presses, and finally rising to be compositor and -writer, is in these days of specialization out of date. The newspaper -business has as distinct departments as a department store. While a full -knowledge of every part of the workings of the office is unquestionably -valuable, the eager aspirant finds time too limited to serve a long -apprenticeship at the mechanical end in order to prepare himself for the -writing-room. - -Hence we find the newspaper worker seeking a new preparation. He strives -for a broad knowledge, rather than mechanical training, and it is from -such preparation that he enters the newspaper office with the best -chances of success. Once the college man in the newspaper office was a -joke. His sophomoric style was the object of sneers and jeers from the -men who had been trained in the school of actual practice at the desk. -To-day few editors hold to the idea that there can be no special -preparation worth while outside the office, just as you find few farmers -sneering at the work of agricultural colleges. It is not uncommon to -find the staff of a great newspaper composed largely of college men, and -when a new man is sought for the writing force it is usually one with a -college degree who obtains the place. It is recognized that the ability -to think clearly, to write understandable English, and to know the big -facts of the world and its doings, are essential, and that college -training fits the young man of brains for this. Such faults as may have -been acquired can easily be corrected. - -Along with the tendency toward specialization in other directions, -colleges and universities have established schools or departments of -journalism in which they seek to assist those students who desire to -follow that career. It is not a just criticism of such efforts to say, -as some editors have said, that it is impossible to give practical -experience outside a newspaper office. Such an opinion implies that news -and comment can be written only within sound of a printing-press; yet a -vast deal of actual everyday work on the papers themselves is done by -persons outside the office. - -About twenty colleges and universities, chiefly in the Middle West and -Northwest, have established such schools. They range in their curriculum -from courses of lectures by newspaper men continued through a part of -the four-years’ course, to complete schools with a systematic course of -study comprehending general culture, history, and science, with actual -work on a daily paper published by the students themselves, on which, -under the guidance of an experienced newspaper man, they fill creditably -every department and assist in the final make-up of the publication. -They even gain a fair comprehension of the workings of linotypes, -presses, and the details of composition, without attempting to attain -such hand-skill as to make them eligible to positions in the mechanical -department. - -These students, in addition to possessing the broad culture that comes -with a college degree, know how to write a “story,” how to frame a -headline, how to construct editorial comment, and they certainly enter -the newspaper office lacking the crudeness manifested by those who have -all the details of newspaper style to learn. This sort of schooling does -not make newspaper men of the unfit, but to the fit it gives a -preparation that saves them much time in attaining positions of value. -That a course of this kind will become an integral part of many more -colleges is probable. - -In these schools some of the most capable students enroll. They are the -young men and young women of literary tastes and keen ambitions. They -are as able as the students who elect law, or science, or engineering. -From months of daily work in a class-room fitted up like the city room -of a great newspaper, with definite news-assignments and tasks that -cover the whole field of writing for the press, they can scarcely fail -to absorb some of the newspaper spirit, and graduate with a fairly -definite idea of what is to be required of them. - - - II - -Then there comes the question, where shall the start be made? Is it best -to begin on the small paper and work toward metropolitan journalism? or -to seek a reporter’s place on the city daily and work for advancement? - -Something is to be said for the latter course. The editor of one of the -leading New York dailies remarked the other day: “The man who begins in -New York, and stays with it, rises if he be capable. Changes in the -staffs are frequent, and in a half-dozen years he finds himself well up -the ladder. It takes him about that long to gain a good place in a -country town, and then if he goes to the city he must begin at the -bottom with much time wasted.” This is, however, not the essential -argument. - -Who is the provincial newspaper man? Where is found the broadest -development, the largest conception of journalism? To the beginner the -vision is not clear. If he asks the busy reporter, the nervous special -writer on a metropolitan journal, he gets this reply: “If I could only -own a good country paper and be my own master!” Then, turning to the -country editor, he is told: “It is dull in the country town—if I could -get a place on a city journal where things are happening!” Each can give -reasons for his ambition, and each has from his experience and -observation formed an _ex parte_ opinion. Curiously, in view of the -glamour that surrounds the city worker, and the presumption that he has -attained the fullest possible equipment for the newspaper field, he is -less likely to succeed with satisfaction to himself on a country paper -than is the country editor who finds a place in the city. - -The really provincial journalist, the worker whose scope and ideals are -most limited, is often he who has spent years as a part of a great -newspaper-making machine. Frequently, when transplanted to what he -considers a narrower field, which is actually one of wider demands, he -fails in complete efficiency. The province of the city paper is one of -news-selection. Out of the vast skein of the day’s happenings what shall -it select? More “copy” is thrown away than is used. The _New York Sun_ -is written as definitely for a given constituency as is a technical -journal. Out of the day’s news it gives prominence to that which fits -into its scheme of treatment, and there is so much news that it can fill -its columns with interesting material, yet leave untouched a myriad of -events. The _New York Evening Post_ appeals to another constituency, and -is made accordingly. The _World_ and _Journal_ have a far different -plan, and “play up” stories that are mentioned briefly, or ignored, by -some of their contemporaries. So the writer on the metropolitan paper is -trained to sift news, to choose from his wealth of material that which -the paper’s traditions demand shall receive attention; and so abundant -is the supply that he can easily set a feast without exhausting the -market’s offering. Unconsciously he becomes an epicure, and knows no day -will dawn without bringing him his opportunity. - -What happens when a city newspaper man goes to the country? Though he -may have all the graces of literary skill and know well the art of -featuring his material, he comes to a new journalistic world. Thus did -the manager of a flourishing evening daily in a city of fifty thousand -put it: “I went to a leading metropolitan daily to secure a city editor, -and took a man recommended as its most capable reporter, one with years -of experience in the city field. Brought to the new atmosphere, he was -speedily aware of the changed conditions. In the run of the day’s news -rarely was there a murder, with horrible details as sidelights; no -heiress eloped with a chauffeur; no fire destroyed tenements and lives; -no family was broken up by scandal. He was at a loss to find material -with which to make local pages attractive. He was compelled to give -attention to a wide range of minor occurrences, most of which he had -been taught to ignore. In the end he resigned. I found it more -satisfactory to put in his place a young man who had worked on a -small-town daily and was in sympathy with the things that come close to -the whole community, who realized that all classes of readers must be -interested in the paper, all kinds of happenings reported, and the paper -be made each evening a picture of the total sum of the day’s events, -rather than of a few selected happenings. The news-supply is limited, -and all must be used and arranged to interest readers—and we reach all -classes of readers, not a selected constituency.” - -The small-town paper must do this, and because its writers are forced so -to look upon their field they obtain a broader comprehension of the -community life than do those who are restricted to special ideas and -special conceptions of the paper’s plans. The beginner who finds his -first occupation on a country paper, by which is meant a paper in one of -the smaller cities, is likely to obtain a better all-round knowledge of -everything that must be done in a newspaper office than the man who goes -directly to a position on a thoroughly organized metropolitan journal. -He does not secure, however, such helpful training in style or such -expert drill in newspaper methods. He is left to work out his own -salvation, sometimes becoming an adept, but frequently dragging along in -mediocrity. When he goes from the small paper to the larger one, he has -a chance to acquire efficiency rapidly. The editor of one of the -country’s greatest papers says that he prefers to take young men of such -training, and finds that they have a broader vision than when educated -in newspaper-making from the bottom in his own office. - -It is easy to say, as did the merchant concerning his son, that there -are few chances for financial success in journalism. Yet it is probable -that for the man of distinction in journalism the rewards are not less -than they are in other professions. The salaries on the metropolitan -papers are liberal, and are becoming greater each year as the business -of news-purveying becomes better systematized and more profitable. The -newspaper man earns vastly more than the minister. The editor in the -city gets as much out of life as do the attorneys. The country editor, -with his plant worth five thousand dollars or ten thousand dollars, -frequently earns for his labors as satisfactory an income as the banker; -while the number of editors of country weeklies who have a profit of -three thousand dollars or more from their papers is astonishing. - -It is, of course, not always so, any more than it is true that the -lawyer, preacher, or physician always possesses a liberal income. When -the city editor makes sport of the ill-printed country paper, he forgets -under what conditions the country editor at times works. A prosperous -publisher with sympathy in his heart put it this way:— - -“The other day we picked up a dinky weekly paper that comes to our desk -every week. As usual we found something in it that made us somewhat -tired, and we threw it down in disgust. For some reason we picked it up -again and looked at it more closely. Our feelings, somehow or other, -began to change. We noted the advertisements. They were few in number, -and we knew that the wolf was standing outside the door of that little -print-shop and howling. The ads were poorly gotten up, but we knew why. -The poor fellow didn’t have enough material in his shop to get up a good -ad. It was poorly printed—almost unreadable in spots. We knew again what -was the matter. He needed new rollers and some decent ink, but probably -he didn’t have the money to buy them. One of the few locals spoke about -‘the editor and family.’ So he had other mouths to feed. He was burning -midnight oil in order to save hiring a printer. He couldn’t afford it. -True, he isn’t getting out a very good paper, but at that, he is giving -a whole lot more than he is receiving. It is easy to poke fun at the -dinky papers when the waves of prosperity are breaking in over your own -doorstep. Likely, if we were in that fellow’s place we couldn’t do as -well as he does.” - -The profession of the publicist naturally leads to politics, and the -editor is directly in the path to political preferment. The growth of -the primary system adds greatly to the chance in this direction. One of -the essentials of success at a primary is that the candidate have a wide -acquaintance with the public, that his name shall have been before the -voters sufficiently often for them to become familiar with it. The -editor who has made his paper known acquires this acquaintance. He goes -into the campaign with a positive asset. One western state, for -instance, has newspaper men for one third of its state officers and -forty per cent of its delegation in Congress. This is not exceptional. -It is merely the result of the special conditions, both of fitness and -prominence, in the editor’s relation to the public. - -This very facility for entering politics is perhaps an objection rather -than a benefit. The editor who is a seeker after office finds himself -hampered by his ambitions and he is robbed of much of the independence -that goes to make his columns of worth. The ideal position is when the -editor owns, clear of debt, a profit-making plant and is not a candidate -for any office. Just so far as he departs from this condition does he -find himself restricted in the free play of his activities. If debt -hovers, there is temptation to seek business at the expense of editorial -utterance; if he desires votes, he must temporize often in order to win -friendships or to avoid enmities. Freedom from entangling alliances, -absolutely an open way, should be the ambition of the successful -newspaper worker. Fortunate is the subordinate who has an employer so -situated, for in such an office can be done the best thinking and the -clearest writing. Though he may succeed in other paths, financially, -socially, and politically, he will lack in his career some of the finer -enjoyments that can come only with unobstructed vision. - - - III - -It is not agreed that everyday newspaper work gives especial fitness for -progress in literature. The habit of rapid writing, of getting a story -to press to catch the first edition, has the effect for many of creating -a style unfitted for more serious effort. Yet when temperament and taste -are present, there is no position in which the aspirant for a place in -the literary field has greater opportunity. To be in touch with the -thought and the happenings of the world gives opportunity for -interpretation of life to the broader public of the magazine and the -published volume. Newspaper work does not make writers of books, but -experience therein obtained does open the way; and the successes, both -in fiction and economics, that have come in the past decade from the -pens of newspaper workers is ample evidence of the truth of this -statement. - -It is one of the criticisms of the press that it corrupts beginners and -not only gives them a false view of life, but compels them to do things -abhorrent to those possessed of the finer feelings of good taste and -courtesy. The fact is that journalism is, to a larger degree than almost -all other businesses or professions, individualistic. It is to each -worker what he makes it. The minister has his way well defined; he must -keep in it or leave the profession. The teacher is restrained within -limits; the lawyer and physician, if they would retain standing, must -follow certain codes. The newspaper worker is a free lance compared with -any of these. - -The instances in which a reporter is asked to do things in opposition to -the best standards of ethics and courtesy are rare—and becoming rarer. -The paper of to-day, though a business enterprise as well as a medium of -publicity and comment, has a higher ideal than that of two decades ago. -The rivalry is greater, the light of competition is stronger, the -relation to the public is closer. Little mystery surrounds the press. -Seldom does the visitor stand open-eyed in wonder before the “sanctum.” -The average man and woman know how “copy” is prepared, how type is set, -how the presses operate. The newspaper office is an “open shop” compared -with the early printing-offices, of which the readers of papers stood -somewhat in awe. Because of this, there is less temptation and less -opportunity for obscure methods. The profession offers to the young man -and young woman an opportunity for intelligent and untainted occupation. -Should there be a demand that seems unreasonable or in bad taste, plenty -of places are open on papers that have a higher standard of morals and -are conducted with a decent respect for the opinions and rights of the -public. - -Nor is it necessary that the worker indulge in any pyrotechnics in -maintaining his self-respect. The editor of one of the leading papers of -western New York quietly resigned his position because he could not with -a clear conscience support the nominee favored by the owner of the -paper. He did nothing more than many men have done in other positions. -His action was not proof that his employer was dishonest, but that there -were two points of view and he could not accept the one favored by the -publisher. Such a course is always open, and so wide is the publishing -world that there is no need for any one to suffer. Nor can a paper or an -editor fence in the earth. With enough capital to buy a press and paper, -and to hire a staff, any one can have his say—and frequently the most -unpromising field proves a bonanza for the man with courage and -initiative. - -In a long and varied experience as editor, I have rarely found an -advertiser who was concerned regarding the editorial policy of the -paper. The advertiser wants publicity; he is interested in -circulation—when he obtains that, he is satisfied. Instances there are -where the advertiser has a personal interest in some local enterprise -and naturally resents criticism of its management, but such situations -can be dealt with directly and without loss of self-respect to the -publisher. Not from the advertiser comes the most interference with the -press. If there were as little from men with political schemes, men with -pet projects to promote, men (and women) desiring to use the newspaper’s -columns to boost themselves into higher positions or to acquire some -coveted honor, an independent and self-respecting editorial policy could -be maintained without material hindrance. With the right sort of good -sense and adherence to conviction on the part of the publisher it can be -maintained under present conditions—and the problem becomes simpler -every year. More papers that cannot be cajoled, bought, or bulldozed are -published to-day than ever before in the world’s history. The “organ” is -becoming extinct as the promotion of newspaper publicity becomes more a -business and less a means of gratifying ambition. - -Publishers have learned that fairness is the best policy, that it does -not pay to betray the trust of the public, and journalism becomes a more -attractive profession exactly in proportion as it offers a field where -self-respect is at a premium and bosses are unconsidered. The new -journalism demands men of high character and good habits. The old story -of the special writer who, when asked what he needed to turn out a good -story for the next day’s paper, replied, “a desk, some paper, and a -quart of whiskey,” does not apply. One of the specifications of every -request for writers is that the applicant shall not drink. Cleanliness -of life, a well-groomed appearance, a pleasing personality, are -essentials for the journalist of to-day. The pace is swift, and he must -keep his physical and mental health in perfect condition. - -That there is a new journalism, with principles and methods in harmony -with new political and social conditions and new developments in -news-transmission and the printing art, is evident. The modern newspaper -is far more a business enterprise than was the one of three decades ago. -To some observers this means the subordination of the writer to the -power of the publisher. If this be so in some instances, the correction -lies with the public. The abuse of control should bring its own -punishment in loss of patronage, or of influence, or of both. The -newspaper, be it published in a country village or in the largest city, -seeks first the confidence of its readers. Without this it cannot secure -either business for its advertising pages or influence for its -ambitions. Publicity alone may once have sufficed, but rivalry is too -keen to-day. Competition brings a realizing sense of fairness. Hence it -is that there is a demand for well-equipped young men and clever young -women who can instill into the pages of the press frankness, virility, -and a touch of what newspaper men call “human interest.” - -The field is broad; it has place for writers of varied accomplishments; -it promises a profession filled with interesting experiences and close -contact with the world’s pulse. It is not for the sloth or for the -sloven, not for the conscienceless or for the unprepared. Without real -qualifications for it, the ambitious young person would better seek some -other life-work. - - - - - BIBLIOGRAPHY - - - 1. Books on Principles of Journalism - - Adams, Samuel Hopkins. The Clarion. A novel. 1914. - - Bleyer, W. G. Newspaper Writing and Editing. The Function of the - Newspaper, pp. 331–389. 1913. - - Hapgood, Norman. Everyday Ethics. Ethics of Journalism, pp. 1–15. - 1910. - - Holt, Hamilton. Commercialism and Journalism. 1909. - - Proceedings of the First National Newspaper Conference. University of - Wisconsin. 1913. - - Reid, Whitelaw. American and English Studies. Journalistic Duties and - Opportunities, v. 2, pp. 313–344. 1913. - - Rogers, Jason. Newspaper Building. 1918. - - Rogers, J. E. The American Newspaper. 1909. - - Scott-James, R. A. The Influence of the Press. 1913. - - Thorpe, Merle, _editor_. The Coming Newspaper. 1915. - - - 2. What Typical Newspapers Contain - - Wilcox, Delos F. The American Newspaper: A Study in Social Psychology. - Annals of the American Academy, v. 16, p. 56. (July, 1900.) - - Garth, T. R. Statistical Study of the Contents of Newspapers. School - and Society, v. 3, p. 140. (Jan. 22, 1916.) - - Tenney, A. A. Scientific Analysis of the Press. Independent, v. 73, p. - 895. (Oct. 17, 1912.) - - Mathews, B. C. Study of a New York Daily. Independent, v. 68, p. 82. - (Jan. 13, 1910.) - - - 3. What the Public Wants - - Thorpe, Merle, _editor_. The Coming Newspaper, pp. 223–247; Symposium: - Giving the Public What It Wants, by newspaper and magazine - editors. 1915. - - Independent Chicago Journalist, An. Is an Honest and Sane Newspaper - Possible? American Journal of Sociology, v. 15, p. 321. (Nov. - 1909.) - - What the Public Wants. Dial, v. 47, p. 499. (Dec. 16, 1909.) - - Haskell, H. J. The Public, the Newspaper’s Problem. Outlook, v. 91, p. - 791. (April 3, 1909.) - - Stansell, C. V. People’s Wants. Nation, v. 98, p. 236. (March 6, - 1914.) - - Newspapers as Commodities. Nation, v. 94, p. 236. (May 9, 1912.) - - Scott, Walter Dill. The Psychology of Advertising, pp. 226–248. 1908. - - Bennett, Arnold. What the Public Wants. A play. 1910. - - - 4. What Is News? - - What Is News? A Symposium from the Managing Editors of the Great - American Newspapers. Collier’s Weekly, v. 46, p. 22 (March 18, - 1911); v. 47, p. 44 (April 15, 1911); v. 47, p. 35 (May 6, 1911); - v. 47, p. 42 (May 13, 1911); v. 47, p. 26 (May 20, 1911). - - Irwin, Will. What Is News? Collier’s Weekly, v. 46, p. 16. (March 11, - 1911.) - - What Is News? Outlook, v. 89, p. 137. (May 23, 1908.) - - What Is News? Scribner, v. 44, p. 507. (Oct. 1908.) - - Brougham, H. B. News—What Is It? Harper’s Weekly, v. 56, p. 21. (Feb. - 17, 1912.) - - - 5. The Reporter and the News - - Irwin, Will. “All the News That’s Fit to Print.” Collier’s Weekly, v. - 47, p. 17. (May 6, 1911.) - - Irwin, Will. The Reporter and the News. Collier’s Weekly, v. 47, p. - 21. (April 22, 1911.) - - Münsterberg, Hugo. The Case of the Reporter. McClure’s Magazine, v. - 36, p. 435. (Feb. 1911.) - - Strunsky, Simeon. Two Kinds of Reporters. Century, v. 85, p. 955. - (April 1913.) - - Gentlemanly Reporter, The. Century, v. 79, p. 149. (Nov. 1909.) - - Dealing in Scandal. Outlook, v. 97, p. 811. (April 15, 1911.) - - Seldes, G. H. and G. V. The Press and the Reporter. Forum, v. 52, p. - 722. (Nov. 1914.) - - - 6. Effects of News of Crime and Scandal - - Fenton, Francis. Influence of Newspaper Presentation upon the Growth - of Crime and Other Anti-social Activity. 1911. Also in American - Journal of Sociology, v. 16, pp. 342 and 538. (Nov. 1910, and Jan. - 1911.) - - Phelps, E. B. Neurotic Books and Newspapers as Factors in the - Mortality of Suicides and Crime. Bulletin of the American Academy - of Medicine, v. 12, No. 5. (Oct. 1911.) - - Newspapers’ Sensations and Suggestion. Independent, v. 62, p. 449. - (Feb. 21, 1907.) - - Tragic Sense. Nation, v. 87, p. 90. (July 30, 1908.) - - Danger of the Sensational Press. Craftsman, v. 19, p. 211. (Nov. - 1910.) - - Howells, W. D. Shocking News. Harper’s Magazine, v. 127, p. 796. (Oct. - 1913.) - - Irwin, Will. “All the News That’s Fit to Print.” Collier’s Weekly, v. - 47, p. 17. (May 6, 1911.) - - Responsibility of the Press. Independent, v. 53, p. 2248. (Sept. 19, - 1901.) - - Our Chamber of Horrors. Outlook, v. 99, p. 261. (Sept. 30, 1911.) - - The Newspaper as Childhood’s Enemy. Survey, v. 27, p. 1794. (Feb. 24, - 1912.) - - Lessons in Crime at Fifty Cents per Month. Outlook, v. 85, p. 276. - (Feb. 2, 1907.) - - The Man Who Ate Babies. Harper’s Weekly, v. 51, p. 296. (March 2, - 1907.) - - Lawlessness and the Press. Century, v. 82, p. 146. (May 1911.) - - Newspaper Responsibility for Lawlessness. Nation, v. 77, p. 151. (Aug. - 20, 1903.) - - Newspaper Invasion of Privacy. Century, v. 86, p. 310. (June 1913.) - - Newspaper Cruelty. Century, v. 84, p. 150. (May 1912.) - - Newspapers and Crime. Journal of Criminal Law, v. 2, p. 340. (Sept. - 1912.) - - - 7. Yellow and Sensational Journalism - - Irwin, Will. The Fourth Current. Collier’s Weekly, v. 46, p. 14. (Feb. - 18, 1911.) - - Irwin, Will. The Spread and Decline of Yellow Journalism. Collier’s - Weekly, v. 46, p. 18. (March 4, 1911.) - - Thomas, W. I. The Psychology of the Yellow Journal. American Magazine, - v. 65, p. 491. (March 1908.) - - Brooks, Sydney. The Yellow Press: An English View. Harper’s Weekly, v. - 55, p. 11. (Dec. 23, 1911.) - - Whibley, Charles. The American Yellow Press. Blackwood’s, v. 181, p. - 531 (April 1907); also in Bookman, v. 25, p. 239. (May 1907.) - - Brisbane, Arthur. Yellow Journalism. Bookman, v. 19, p. 400. (June - 1904.) - - Brisbane, Arthur. William Randolph Hearst. North American Review, v. - 183, p. 511 (Sept. 21, 1906); editorial comment on this article, - by George Harvey, on p. 569. - - Commander, Lydia K. The Significance of Yellow Journalism. Arena, v. - 34, p. 150. (Aug. 1905.) - - Brunner, F. J. Home Newspapers and Others. Harper’s Weekly, v. 58, p. - 24. (Jan. 10, 1914.) - - Pennypacker, S. W. Sensational Journalism and the Remedy. North - American Review, v. 190, p. 587. (Nov. 1909.) - - Curb for the Sensational Press. Century, v. 83, p. 631. (Feb. 1912.) - - - 8. Inaccuracy - - Smith, Munroe. The Dogma of Journalistic Inerrancy. North American - Review, v. 187, p. 240. (Feb. 1908.) - - Collins, James H. The Newspaper—An Independent Business. Saturday - Evening Post, v. 185, p. 25. (April 12, 1913.) - - Kelley, Fred C. Accuracy Pays in Any Business: New York World’s Bureau - of Accuracy and Fair Play. American Magazine, v. 82, p. 50. (Nov. - 1916.) - - New Credulity. Nation, v. 80, p. 241. (March 30, 1905.) - - Fakes and the Press. Science, v. 25, p. 391. (March 8, 1907.) - - Newspaper Science. Science, v. 25, p. 630. (April 19, 1907.) - - Gladden, Washington. Experiences with Newspapers. Outlook, v. 99, p. - 387. (Oct. 14, 1911.) - - Irwin, Will. The New Era. Collier’s Weekly, v. 47, p. 15. (July 8, - 1911.) - - Print the News. Outlook, v. 96, p. 563. (Nov. 12, 1910.) - - Falsification of the News. Independent, v. 84, p. 420. (Dec. 13, - 1915.) - - - 9. Faking - - Faking as a Fine Art. American Magazine, v. 75, p. 24. (Nov. 1912.) - - Bok, Edward. Why People Disbelieve the Newspapers. World’s Work, v. 7, - p. 4567. (March 1904.) - - Offenses Against Good Journalism. Outlook, v. 88, p. 479. (Feb. 29, - 1908.) - - Lying for the Sake of War. Nation, v. 98, p. 561. (May 14, 1914.) - - Wheeler, H. D. At the Front with Willie Hearst. Harper’s Weekly, v. - 61, p. 340. (Oct. 9, 1915.) - - Russell, Isaac. Hearst-made War News. Harper’s Weekly, v. 59, p. 76. - (July 25, 1914.) - - Hearst-made War News. Harper’s Weekly, v. 59, p. 186. (Aug. 22, 1914.) - - Dream Book. Outlook, v. 111, p. 535. (Nov. 3, 1915.) - - Hall, Howard. Hearst: War-maker. Harper’s Weekly, v. 61, p. 436. (Nov. - 6, 1915.) - - Pulitzer, Ralph. Profession of Journalism: Accuracy in the News. - Pamphlet published by the New York World. 1912. - - - 10. Coloring the News - - Irwin, Will. The Editor and the News. Collier’s Weekly, v. 47, p. 18. - (April 1, 1911.) - - Irwin, Will. Our Kind of People. Collier’s Weekly, v. 47, p. 17. (June - 17, 1911.) - - Irwin, Will. The New Era. Collier’s Weekly, v. 47, p. 15. (July 8, - 1911.) - - Irwin, Will. The Press Agent. Collier’s Weekly, v. 48, p. 24. (Dec. 2, - 1911.) - - Confessions of a Managing Editor. Collier’s Weekly, v. 48, p. 18. - (Oct. 28, 1911.) - - Tainted News as Seen in the Making. Bookman, v. 24, p. 396. (Dec. - 1906.) - - Baker, Ray Stannard. How Railroads Make Public Opinion. McClure’s - Magazine, v. 26, p. 535. (March 1906.) - - How the Reactionary Press Poisons the Public Mind. Arena, v. 38, p. - 318. (Sept. 1907.) - - - 11. Suppression of News - - Irwin, Will. The Power of the Press. Collier’s Weekly, v. 46, p. 15. - (Jan. 21, 1911.) - - Irwin, Will. Advertising Influence. Collier’s Weekly, v. 47, p. 15. - (May 27, 1911.) - - Irwin, Will. Our Kind of People. Collier’s Weekly, v. 47, p. 17. (June - 17, 1911.) - - Irwin, Will. The Foe Within. Collier’s Weekly, v. 47, p. 17. (July 1, - 1911.) - - The Patent Medicine Conspiracy against the Freedom of the Press. - Collier’s Weekly, v. 36, p. 13. (Nov. 4, 1905.) - - Silencing the Press. Nation, v. 76, p. 4. (Jan. 1, 1903.) - - Stansell, C. V. Ethics of News Suppression. Nation, v. 96, p. 54. - (Jan. 16, 1913.) - - A Real Case of Tainted News. Collier’s Weekly, v. 53, p. 16. (June 6, - 1914.) - - Seitz, Don C. The Honor of the Press. Harper’s Weekly, v. 55, p. 11. - (May 6, 1911.) - - Can the Wool Trust Gag the Press? Collier’s Weekly, v. 46, p. 11. - (March 18, 1911.) - - Holt, Hamilton. Commercialism and Journalism. 1909. - - - 12. Editorial Policy and Influence - - Kemp, R. W. The Policy of the Paper. Bookman, v. 20, p. 310. (Dec. - 1904.) - - Blake, Tiffany. The Editorial: Past, Present, and Future. Collier’s - Weekly, v. 48, p. 18. (Sept. 23, 1911.) - - The Editorial Yesterday and To-day. World’s Work, v. 21, p. 14071. - (March 1911.) - - Editorialene. Nation, v. 74, p. 459. (June 12, 1902.) - - Irwin, Will. The Unhealthy Alliance. Collier’s Weekly, v. 47, p. 17. - (June 3, 1911.) - - Shackled Editor. Collier’s Weekly, v. 51, p. 22. (April 12, 1913.) - - Fisher, Brooke. The Newspaper Industry. Atlantic Monthly, v. 89, p. - 745. (June 1902.) - - Porritt, Edward. The Value of Political Editorials. Atlantic, v. 105, - p. 62. (Jan. 1910.) - - Haste, R. A. Evolution of the Fourth Estate. Arena, v. 41, p. 348. - (March 1909.) - - We. Independent, v. 70, p. 1280. (Jan. 8, 1911.) - - Bonaparte, Charles J. Government of Public Opinion. Forum, v. 40, p. - 384. (Oct. 1908.) - - Ogden, Rollo. Journalism and Public Opinion. American Political - Science Review, Supplement, v. 7, p. 194. (Feb. 1913.) - - Williams, Talcott. The Press and Public Opinion. American Political - Science Review, Supplement, v. 7, p. 201. (Feb. 1913.) - - - 13. The Associated Press and the United Press - - Beach, H. L. Getting Out the News. Saturday Evening Post, v. 182, p. - 18. (March 12, 1910.) - - Noyes, F. B. The Associated Press. North American Review, v. 197, p. - 701. (May 1913.) - - Stone, Melville E. The Associated Press. Century, vv. 69 and 70. - (April to Aug. 1905.) - - Irwin, Will. What’s Wrong with the Associated Press? Harper’s Weekly, - v. 58, p. 10. (March 28, 1914.) - - Is There a News Monopoly? Collier’s Weekly, v. 53, p. 16. (June 6, - 1914.) - - Stone, Melville E. The Associated Press: A Defense. Collier’s Weekly, - v. 53, p. 28. (July 11, 1914.) - - Mason, Gregory. The Associated Press: A Criticism. Outlook, v. 107, p. - 237. (May 30, 1914.) - - Kennan, George. The Associated Press: A Defense. Outlook, v. 107, p. - 240. (May 30, 1914.) - - The Associated Press as a Trust. Literary Digest, v. 48, p. 364. (Feb. - 21, 1914.) - - The Associated Press Under Fire. Outlook, v. 106, p. 426. (Feb. 28, - 1914.) - - Criticisms of the Associated Press. Outlook, v. 107, p. 631. (July 18, - 1914.) - - Irwin, Will. The United Press. Harper’s Weekly, v. 58, p. 6. (April - 25, 1914.) - - Roy W. Howard, General Manager of the United Press. American Magazine, - V. 75, p. 41. (Nov. 1912.) - - Howard, Roy W. Government Regulation for Press Association in Thorpe’s - The Coming Newspaper, pp. 188–204. 1915. - - - 14. Ethics of Newspaper Advertising - - The Patent Medicine Conspiracy against the Freedom of the Press. - Collier’s Weekly, v. 36, p. 13. (Nov. 4, 1905.) - - Adams, Samuel Hopkins. The Great American Fraud. A series of articles - in Collier’s Weekly, vv. 36 and 37. (Oct. 7, 1905, to Sept. 22, - 1906.) Published as a book, with the same title, in 1906. - - Creel, George. The Press and Patent Medicines. Harper’s Weekly, v. 60, - p. 155. (Feb. 13, 1915.) - - Roberts, W. D. Pursued by Cardui. Harper’s Weekly, v. 60, p. 175. - (Feb. 20, 1915.) - - Waldo, Richard H. The Second Candle of Journalism, in Thorpe’s The - Coming Newspaper, pp. 248–261. 1915. - - Roosevelt, Theodore. Applied Ethics in Journalism. Outlook, v. 97, p. - 807. (April 15, 1911.) - - The Lure of Fake Sales. Current Opinion, v. 56, p. 223. (March 1914.) - - Adams, Samuel Hopkins. Tricks of the Trade. Collier’s Weekly, v. 48, - p. 17. (Feb. 17, 1912.) - - Millions Lost in Fake Enterprises. Outlook, v. 100, p. 797. (April 13, - 1912.) - - Brummer, F. J. The Home Newspaper and Others. Harper’s Weekly, v. 58, - p. 24. (Jan. 10, 1914.) - - Houston, H. S. New Morals in Advertising. World’s Work, v. 28, p. 384. - (Aug. 1914.) - - Stelze, Charles. Publicity Men in a Campaign for Clean Advertising. - Outlook, v. 107, p. 589. (July 11, 1914.) - - - 15. Dramatic Criticism - - Confessions of a Dramatic Critic. Independent, v. 60, p. 492. (March - 1, 1906.) - - Armstrong, Paul, and Davis, Hartley. Manager _vs._ Critic. Everybody’s - Magazine, v. 21, p. 119. (July 1909.) - - Cudgeling the Dramatic Critics. Literary Digest, v. 48, p. 321. (Feb. - 14, 1914.) - - Serious Declaration of War Against the Dramatic Critic. Current - Opinion, v. 57, p. 328. (Nov. 1914.) - - Trials and Duties of a Dramatic Critic. Current Literature, v. 39, p. - 428. (Oct. 1905.) - - William Winter’s Retirement. Independent, v. 67, p. 487. (Aug. 26, - 1909.) - - The Newspaper and the Theatre. Outlook, v. 93, p. 12. (Sept. 4, 1909.) - - - 16. Book-Reviewing in Newspapers - - Perry, Bliss. Literary Criticism in American Periodicals. Yale Review, - v. 3, p. 635. (July 1914). - - Grocery-shop Criticism. Dial, v. 57, p. 5. (July 1, 1914.) - - Reviewing the Reviewer. Nation, v. 98, p. 288. (March 19, 1914.) - - Varieties of Book-Reviewing. Nation, v. 99, p. 8. (July 2, 1914.) - - Haines, Helen E. Present-Day Book-Reviewing. Independent, v. 69, p. - 1104. (Nov. 17, 1910.) - - Benson, A. C. Ethics of Book-Reviewing. Putnam’s, v. 1, p. 116. (Oct. - 1906.) - - Matthews, Brander. Literary Criticism and Book-Reviewing, in Gateways - to Literature, pp. 115–136. 1912. - - Woodward, W. E. Syndicate Service and Tainted Book-Reviews. Dial, v. - 56, p. 173. (March 1, 1914.) - - Book-Reviewing _à la Mode_. Nation, v. 93, p. 139. (Aug. 17, 1911.) - - - 17. Newspaper Style - - Journalistic Style. Independent, v. 64, p. 541. (March 5, 1908.) - - Newspaper English. Literary Digest, v. 47, p. 1229. (Dec. 20, 1913.) - - Scott, Fred Newton. The Undefended Gate. English Journal, v. 3, p. 1. - (Jan. 1914.) - - Bradford, Gamaliel. Journalism and Permanence. North American Review, - v. 202, pp. 239–241. (Aug. 1915.) - - Henry James on Newspaper English. Current Literature, v. 39, p. 155. - (Aug. 1905.) - - Boynton, H. W. The Literary Aspect of Journalism. Atlantic Monthly, v. - 93, p. 845. (June, 1904.) - - Perils of Punch. Nation, v. 100, p. 240. (March 4, 1915.) - - Mr. Hardy and Our Headlines. World’s Work, v. 24, p. 385. (Aug. 1912.) - - Lowes, J. L. Headline English. Nation, v. 96, p. 179. (Feb. 20, 1913.) - - - 18. Newspapers and the Law - - Schofield, Henry. Freedom of the Press in the United States. Papers - and Proceedings of the American Sociological Society, v. 9, p. 67. - 1914. - - Grasty, C. H. Reasonable Restrictions upon the Freedom of the Press - and Discussion. Papers and Proceedings of the American - Sociological Society, v. 9, p. 117. 1914. - - White, Isaac D. The Clubber in Journalism, in Thorpe’s The Coming - Newspaper, pp. 81–90. 1915. - - Bourne, Jonathan. The Newspaper Publicity Law. Review of Reviews, v. - 47, p. 175. (Feb. 1913.) - - Newspapers Opposing Publicity. Literary Digest, v. 45, p. 607. (Oct. - 12, 1912.) - - Smith, C. E. The Press: Its Liberty and License. Independent, v. 55, - p. 1371. (June 11, 1903.) - - Gamer, J. W. Trial by Newspapers. Journal of Criminal Law, v. 1, p. - 849. (Mar. 1911.) - - Keedy, E. R. Third Degree and Trial by Newspapers. Journal of Criminal - Law, v. 3, p. 502. (Nov. 1912.) - - Gilbert, S. Newspapers as Judiciary. American Journal of Sociology, v. - 12, p. 289. (Nov. 1906.) - - O’Hara, Barratt. State License for Newspaper Men, in Thorpe’s The - Coming Newspaper, pp. 148–161. 1915. - - Lawrence, David. International Freedom of the Press Essential to a - Durable Peace. Annals of the American Academy, v. 72, p. 139. - (July 1917.) - - - 19. The Country Newspaper - - White, William Allen. The Country Newspaper. Harper’s Magazine, v. - 132, p. 887. (May 1916.) - - Tennal, Ralph. A Modern Type of Country Journalism, in Thorpe’s The - Coming Newspaper, pp. 112–147. 1915. - - Bing, P. C. The Country Weekly. 1917. - - - 20. Newspapers of the Future - - Irwin, Will. The Voice of a Generation. Collier’s Weekly, v. 47, p. - 15. (July 29, 1911.) - - Low, A. Maurice. The Modern Newspaper as It Might Be. Yale Review, v. - 2, p. 282. (Jan. 1913.) - - Thorpe, Merle, _editor_. The Coming Newspaper, pp. 1–26. 1915. - - Munsey, Frank A. Journalism of the Future. Munsey Magazine, v. 28, p. - 662. (Feb. 1903.) - - Ideal Newspaper. Current Literature, v. 48, p. 335. (March 1910.) - - Murray, W. H. An Endowed Press. Arena, v. 2, p. 553. (Oct. 1890.) - - Payne, W. M. An Endowed Newspaper, in Little Leaders, p. 178–185. - 1902. - - Endowed Journalism. Literary Digest, v. 45, p. 303. (Aug. 24, 1912.) - - Holt, Hamilton. Plan for an Endowed Journal. Independent, v. 73, p. - 299. (Aug. 12, 1912.) - - Taking the Endowed Newspaper Seriously. Current Literature, v. 53, p. - 311. (Sept. 1912.) - - Municipal Newspaper, The. Independent, v. 71, p. 1342. (Dec. 14, - 1911.) - - Municipal Newspapers. Survey, v. 26, p. 720. (Aug. 19, 1911.) - - Slosson, E. E. The Possibility of a University Newspaper. Independent, - v. 72, p. 351. (Feb. 15, 1912.) - - - - - NOTES ON THE WRITERS - - -ROLLO OGDEN became a member of the editorial staff of the _New York -Evening Post_ in 1891, and has been editor of that paper since 1903. He -edited the _Life and Letters of Edwin Lawrence Godkin_, published in -1907. His article on “Some Aspects of Journalism” was published in the -_Atlantic Monthly_ for July, 1906. - -OSWALD GARRISON VILLARD, whose article, entitled “Press Tendencies and -Dangers,” appeared in the _Atlantic_ for January, 1918, is a son of the -late Henry Villard, who owned the _New York Evening Post_ and the -_Nation_, and a grandson of William Lloyd Garrison, the great -emancipator and editor of the _Liberator_. He succeeded his father as -president of the _New York Evening Post_ and of the _Nation_, to both of -which he frequently contributes editorials and special articles. - -FRANCIS E. LEUPP was actively engaged in newspaper work for thirty -years, from the time that he joined the staff of the _New York Evening -Post_ in 1874 until 1904. During half of that time, from 1889 to 1904, -he was in charge of the Washington bureau of the _Post_. Since retiring -from that position, he has been doing literary work. His article on “The -Waning Power of the Press” was published in the _Atlantic_ for February, -1910. - -H. L. MENCKEN was connected with Baltimore newspapers for nearly twenty -years, part of the time as city editor and later as editor of the -_Baltimore Herald_, and for the last twelve years as a member of the -staff of the _Baltimore Sun_, from which he has recently severed his -connection. He is now one of the editors of _Smart Set_. “Newspaper -Morals” was printed in the _Atlantic_ for March, 1914. - -RALPH PULITZER, who wrote his reply to Mr. Mencken’s article for the -_Atlantic_ for June, 1914, is a son of the late Joseph Pulitzer of the -_New York World_ and the _St. Louis Post-Dispatch_. He began newspaper -work in 1900, and since 1911 has been president of the company that -publishes the _World_. He takes an active part in the direction of the -editorial and news policies of that paper. - -PROFESSOR EDWARD A. ROSS has been an aggressive pioneer in the field of -sociology in this country and has written many books on social problems. -His study of the suppression of news, the results of which were -published in the _Atlantic_ for March, 1910, grew out of his interest in -the newspaper as a social force. - -HENRY WATTERSON, who takes issue with Professor Ross in his article on -“The Personal Equation in Journalism,” in the _Atlantic_ for July, 1910, -is the last of the great editorial leaders of Civil War days. For half a -century his trenchant editorial comments in the _Louisville -Courier-Journal_, of which he has been the editor since 1868, have been -reprinted in newspapers all over the country. - -AN OBSERVER has seen much service as the Washington correspondent of an -important newspaper. “The Problem of the Associated Press” was printed -in the _Atlantic_ for July, 1914. - -MELVILLE E. STONE, who defends the Associated Press, has been its -general manager for twenty-five years. Previous to his connection with -that organization he was associated with Victor F. Lawson in the -establishment and development of the _Chicago Daily News_. He has -written a number of articles on the work of the Associated Press. - -“PARACELSUS” sketches briefly his own career in journalism in his -“Confessions of a Provincial Editor,” published in the _Atlantic_ for -March, 1902. - -CHARLES MOREAU HARGER, as head of the department of journalism at the -University of Kansas from 1905 to 1907, was one of the first college -instructors of journalism in this country. At the same time he was -editor of the _Abilene_ (Kan.) _Daily Reflector_, which he has published -for thirty years. “The Country Editor of To-day” is taken from the -_Atlantic_ for January, 1907, and “Journalism as a Career,” from that -for February, 1911. - -GEORGE W. ALGER, author of the article on “Sensational Journalism and -the Law,” in the _Atlantic_ for February, 1903, has been engaged in the -practice of law in New York City for many years. He has taken an active -part in the framing of New York state laws protecting workers. Two books -of his, _Moral Overstrain_, 1906, and _The Old Law and the New Order_, -1913, deal with the relation of the law to social, commercial, and -industrial problems. - -RICHARD WASHBURN CHILD, although a lawyer, is best known to the reading -public as the author of novels and short stories, many of which have -been published in magazines. His article on “The Critic and the Law” -appeared in the _Atlantic_ for May, 1906. - -CHARLES MINER THOMPSON, editor-in-chief of _Youth’s Companion_, has been -a member of the staff of that periodical since 1890. Previous to that -time he was literary editor of the _Boston Advertiser_. “Honest Literary -Criticism” was published in the _Atlantic_ for August, 1908. - -JAMES S. METCALFE has been dramatic editor of _Life_ for nearly thirty -years. In 1915 he established the Metcalfe dramatic prize at Yale -University, his alma mater. His article on “Dramatic Criticism in the -American Press” appeared in the _Atlantic_ for April, 1918. - -RALPH BERGENGREN has been cartoonist, art critic, dramatic critic, and -editorial writer on various Boston newspapers, and is a frequent -contributor to magazines. “The Humor of the Colored Supplement” is taken -from the _Atlantic_ for August, 1906. - -JAMES H. COLLINS, whose article on “The American Grub Street” appeared -in the _Atlantic_ for November, 1906, is a New York publisher, best -known as the writer of articles on business methods published in the -_Saturday Evening Post_. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - OTHER ATLANTIC TEXTS - FOR THE PROGRESSIVE TEACHER - - -[Illustration] - - - - - ESSAYS AND ESSAY WRITING - - - Edited, with Notes and Introduction, by WILLIAM M. TANNER - - _University of Texas._ - -This book is a collection of about seventy-five short familiar essays -selected from the Contributors’ Club of _The Atlantic Monthly_ and -specially edited for use in advanced high school work, as well as in -college English. The selections, of about one thousand words each, are -classified under five types of the familiar essay, each type-group -preceded by a concise statement of its distinguishing characteristics. -An introduction, with suggestions for study, specific questions, and a -list of 250 suggestive titles for original essays, renders the volume -unusually valuable as a textbook for classes in composition. - -It is the aim of _Essays and Essay Writing_ to encourage the student in -discovering his own ideas and in expressing his thought in as clear, -personal, fresh, vigorous, and correct style as he can develop. An -attempt is made to assist both student and teacher to get away from the -rather trite, impersonal composition, or ‘weekly theme’. 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