Secrets of the sanctum. An inside view of an editor's life

Front matter

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Chapter I. Editors' Q Ualifica Tions

EDITORS of newspapers, together with poets, novelists, historians, and other literary men, are looked upon by a numerous class of persons, who seldom or never come in contact with them, as very superior beings. The merchant, the banker, the mechanic and clerk in the city — and even the plowboy in the country — unconsciously learn to associate in their minds a mysterious dignity with the unseen being whose brain conceives what appears "in print," to be read by thousands and hundreds of thousands. l They realize that, while their own sphere is very narrow, that of the. writer, whose thoughts are placed in type and repeated to thousands, is in a manner illimitable. So they naturally grow to regard the invisible writer with feelings akin to veneration. It is not entirely unreasonable. If there is anything that ought to raise one man above another, as a man, it would seem to be intellectual power, rather than wealth, a proud ancestry, physical strength, or a fine personal appearance.

Those not familiar with the literary man are perhaps a little too prone almost to apotheosize him — picturing him as tall, dignified, commanding, and exceptionally "fine-looking." In this they err. As a rule, editors and authors are not strikingly handsome, and, moving unknown in a miscellaneous crowd, few of them would be picked out as probable men of mark. One of the homeliest men I ever saw, although not disfigured, was an editor, and an unusually brilliant one, as well as a rare poet, wit and satirist. It was years ago that I last saw him, and he is now at rest ; but when I recall him I do not think of his unsymmetrical features, his commonplace form, his tangled and neglected hair, his fading eyesight, his careless dress : I remember only the brilliant mind and noble soul that grew deeper into nature than the ephemeral body. I refer to George D. Prentice, of the Louisville Journal, whose keen wit and stirring humor made millions laugh, whose trenchant satire made many a political opponent "writhe." He had some bitter enemies while living, but in his grave he is remembered by all as a warm-hearted, pure and upright man.

Among the first in the catalogue of men who will always be rated as famous American journalists, the name of Horace Greeley naturally finds a place. Indeed, he was foremost among the founders of enterprising journalism in America under the new order of things, in the epoch of steam-power presses, and other wonderful machinery of late years introduced in printing-offices. He was the son of a common New Hampshire farmer, and was a green, awkward country boy when he left his home to seek employment in a large city. If at that time he had told his simple neighbors that he proposed to become an editor, he would of course have been laughed at, and that very immoderately.

This brings me to one of the subjects first to be considered in this volume — the aspirations of young persons to be writers. It would scarcely be an exaggeration to say that twelve of every

EDITORS' QUALIFICATIONS. II

dozen young people who find themselves capable of writing a few acceptable verses, or a correctly-worded communication to a newspaper, begin to entertain notions of writing regularly for the press. The truth is, every one, no matter what his occupation may be, ought to be able to write a sensible and grammatic letter, either to a newspaper or to a friend.

It does not therefore follow that every one who can write well enough to "appear in print" creditably is qualified to be an editor, or to make writing for the press his regular calling. Journalism is a business, as much as watch-making, blacksmithing, banking, farming, or navigation. It is generally conceded among all classes that a youth should be trained to follow the business for which he exhibits the greatest taste, and in the mysteries of which he at least shows signs of some tact. Now, the actual duties of a journalist are little comprehended by the general public ; and when I treat of this subject at some length in another chapter, it will be understood that great misconceptions of them exist outside of the fraternity.

It is a remark often made, that "everybody thinks he could run a newspaper. ; ' It looks so easy — in fact, the newspaper seems to run itself, in a manner, if only let alone. Yet it happens that, of all vocations, professional or mechanical, journalism is one of the most difficult to master. The reasons for this are numerous. There are few rules — a very few general rules — by which to be guided ; work that would answer in one community would . not answer in another ; work that would be satisfactory in one establishment would not be satisfactory in another, even though it might be in the same city or community ; what would be all right at one time would be all wrong at another ; and, in fact, in no office, in no city or community, and at no time, could the editor please everybody, even though he possessed the attribute of omniscience.

Thus, only long years of experience, and patient, unwearying application, backed by a natural fund of common sense and sound judgment, and a taste for the business, can ever make a proficient editor. When a writer has been five years a journalist, he has just gained one most essential point, namely, a proper sense of how little he knows and how much is yet to be learned. When he has spent an additional five years in various offices — daily and weekly — he discovers that there is still something new to be learned almost every day. This view may appear discouraging ; but the man who intends to adopt journalism as his business, and is ambitious to deserve the title of editor, may as well make up his mind at the start that he has a stupendous task before him, and prepare to look upon his first three or four years of labor in that sphere as a rigorous apprenticeship, in which he must work hard and exercise an uncommon amount of patience.

Yes, almost any one can be an editor — after a fashion. A rich man may become an editor, or make one of his son or nephew, on the shortest notice. There is nothing to prevent his buying or renting a building adapted to his purpose, having the requisite materials put in, hiring the necessary labor, and "starting" a newspaper, with his name, or that of his protege, on it as the editor. This he may do without possessing the slightest knowledge of the business, and he may continue to " edit" and publish his paper just as long as he chooses to sink certain sums of money in the enterprise ; but he will surely never make it a success unless he intrust its management to experienced hands, the services of which his money may command. Then he is only the editor in name, but is no more an editor in fact, and has no more made himself one by this process, than a man who never handled a hatchet or saw in his life would make a carpenter of himself by buying a chest of tools and employing a real carpenter to use them.

EDITORS" QUALIFICATIONS. 13

In country districts, where journalism has not advanced nearly so far as it has in large cities, persons not infrequently become ''editors" by buying and taking the control of weekly papers, or by setting up and conducting small newspaper establishments with a few hundred dollars. Many of these who pass for "editors" year after year in their own communities were merely born to blush unseen, and waste their talents on the rural air. They will never make their mark in journalism, for the good and sufficient reason that "it is not in them." Many a good mechanic, farmer, school-teacher, yea, and printer, has been spoiled in the process of making a poor editor.

There are a number of qualifications that are indispensable to success as a newspaper editor. Among them are a thorough knowledge of grammar in its various branches, notably syntax and orthography; a clear and active brain; a good memory; familiarity with ancient and modern history, and with the leading events of the day; an aptness for writing at once rapidly and correctly; and an unusual command of language.

Who has not sent "voluntary contributions" to newspapers, only to have them rejected? I remember that at a "tender age" I sent a "poem" to a country newspaper, (to which I had repeatedly, though at respectable intervals, sent contributions that were either "respectfully declined" or "treated with silent contempt,") and it was accepted and published — printed, strangely enough, without even one typographic error. I also remember that I experienced an amount of delight at first seeing one of my "effusions" "in print," to describe which just now I have no adequate words at hand; also, that I vainly (yes, vainly) thought I saw in myself the germ of a great poet. Probably it was "great poetry." Had I then been familiar with some of the really meritorious verses written by such poets as Dryden, Bryant, and Drake, at the age of from eight to ten years, I must have been impressed with such an awful sense of their superiority over my own boyish "poetry" as would effectually have cured me of poetic aspirations. I think I may venture the opinion that there are not many actual poets in the world.

To have a manuscript rejected, as of too little merit even for publication, after one has spent hours, and perhaps days, in elaborating and amplifying it, and after he has flattered himself— as, of course, . he has — that it is an extraordinary production, has an extremely depressing effect upon the spirits of the ambitious writer, rivaling even that refined soul-torture one endures just after getting up from the gaming-table at which he has lost his last hundred dollars. Indeed, I know of no keener mental anguish — while it lasts ; but the sharp edge of the agony soon wears off, and the chances are that scarcely a week elapses before the literary aspirant tries it again, once more braving the awful contingence of the receipt of a "respectfully declined" manuscript. When a certain editor had grown to be able to look back and smile at these little disappointments, he, a few years ago, through the columns of a Boston paper, addressed his respects to an unaccepted literary production after the following fashion :

TO A REJECTED MANUSCRIPT.

Thou thing ! I pity thee. I hate thee, too;

For I have spent some labor on thee, now

Thou dost come back to me, without regard

To feelings — which are very sensitive.

Thou contribution — thou gratuitous

Piece for a paper; yea, thou article !

Thou lucubration, which I deemed should rend

The heavens and the earth — convulse mankind —

EDITORS' QUALIFICATIONS. 1 5

Make men of women, women of vile men — Make mighty presidents, and unmake kings — Uproot society and shake from its Foundation ev'ry boasted work of man — Thou — thou rejec — respectfully declined?

I do despise thee, fiend !

For thee I burned The midnight oil ; for thee I racked my brain To frame each sentence with a with'ring power — Searched Noah Webster through and through to get The proper word ; for thee consulted all The latest rules in rhetoric; for thee Sat all alone at midnight's ghastly hour, When ev'ry eye within the domicile Was sealed, except mine own !

Thou graceless thing !

I feel that I could clutch thee up and rend — Tear — burn — destroy thee — let the hissing flames Enwrap themselves about thy hateful form And feed on thee with grim voracity !

But I'll be calm, and nothing do in haste.

In fact, now that I think, I'll lock thee up For thy offence ; and when I bring thee forth Into the light again, thou wayward thing, Re — vise thee !

Chapter II. The Reporters

THERE are but few thorough editors who have not, at one time or other, been reporters ; and there are many excellent newspaper men who do both editing and reporting with equal facility — alternating ''inside" and "outside" work. In fact, it is next to indispensable that a finished editor, particularly one who is called upon to assume the editorial management or the city editorship of a daily newspaper, shall have acquired a clear knowledge of the duties of a reporter. He often has to give specific instructions to the reporter ; and how shall he do it, unless he has had experience in that line himself? There are many, however, who are distinctively reporters, and who so remain all their lives, without ever once taking a place in the sanctum, to do "inside" work. This by no means indicates a lack of journalistic ability, but is often due to a mere preference for "outside" work, or to the force of circumstances. Many a reporter prefers to be a reporter. The editor must sit in his chair all day, or nearly all night, as the case may be, while the reporter is " in and out," rarely being confined to the not-very-cheerful rooms of the newspaper for any considerable length of time.

A thorough reporter, competent to perform any task that may be assigned him, must be a phonographic or "short-hand" writer, for the most rapid penman, who is not a short-hand writer, cannot report in full a long speech, debate, trial in court, the proceedings of a meeting, or the deliberations of a legislative body. In all cases where every word is to be reported a phonographist is indispensable. Yet there are many reporters, regularly employed on large dailies, who are not short-hand writers, but who nevertheless perform their duties just as well as though they were. Such a reporter is frequently sent to meetings, courts, etc., when only a general outline or abstract report of speeches or trials is desired ; he collects the items at the police-stations, making certain daily or nightly rounds for that purpose ; or he goes out to the suburbs to gather the particulars of any interesting event, such as a public disaster, or a crime, to make brief notes thereof, and to hurry back to the office and " write it up " from them in time for the next edition of the paper.

The reporter is a news-gatherer, and, if he is a good one, he will aim to collect all the facts possibly obtainable relative to any event he is detailed to write up, and to relate them in good, plain and simple language. The amount of space accorded to any one specific event must be determined by its importance, together with a consideration of the whole amount of available space. Sometimes an unimportant item may be "crowded out," or "left over," to make room for a full report of a very important affair. The city editor, through whose hands every local paragraph should pass, regulates this matter. On occasions he finds it necessary to "cut down " or amplify a paragraph, but this he does not often find necessary when the reporter is a competent and sagacious one.

Common defects in the style and idiom of many reporters might here be appropriately pointed out, with advantage, I trust, to at least a few who may read this volume. The subject is one which I almost hesitate to take up, not only because of its extensive proportions, but also because I shrink from what might seem an attitude of pedantry. Both these considerations, however, are overcome by the conviction that I should fail to do my whole duty should I neglect to refer to this subl8 SECKETS OF THE SANCTUM..

ject; and when I do refer to it, I do so after the manner of the ghost in Hamlet, "more in sorrow than in anger."

But let me not 'be understood as imputing all the blunders that occur in the public press to ignorance on the part of the writers. Such blunders, as every newspaper-man knows, are often due to the hurry that is inseparable from the preparation of daily newspapers. I have seen some of the most ludicrous bulls and anachronisms perpetrated by the ablest editors in moments of hurry — a few examples of which will be found on another page. ~*

Nevertheless, there are men engaged in the business of reporting who have no natural or acquired fitness for its duties, and who are cursed with a poverty of language, and an imperfect knowledge of its proper use, that ought to have strongly suggested to them the choosing of some other vocation — one in which ' ' the less they would have had to say, the better, ' ' and especially one in which they would seldom have been called upon to put their thoughts in writing.

When a man or boy concludes to be a reporter, he ought to determine to be a good one ; and I would suggest the following as the first bit of instruction that should be strongly impressed upon him :

" Say what you have to say in plain and clear language ; avoid all redundance, all high-sounding, far-fetched and foreign phrases ; be as accurate, truthful and direct as though you were speaking from the witness-stand ; as careful as though you were shooting at a target for a wager : let your object be first to see your mark distinctly, then to hit it exactly."

One of the "drunkest" men ever seen in the street stated that he and his brother were engaged in the advancement of the temperance cause, adding : " He lectures on the evils of drunkenness, while I set a frightful example." Probably he did the more effective work of the two. In any event, I shall proceed with my instructions to reporters by citing (not setting, I hope) a few frightful examples. I find the following paragraph in a leading New York daily :

Fatal Accident. — An old widow woman, eighty years of age, named Mrs. Mary Clark, residing at No. — East Thirtieth Street, was found, at a late hour last night, lying at the foot of the hall stairs in an unconscious and dying condition, and soon afterward expired. She had probably fallen down the stairs while ascending to her room. The coroner was notified.

Here, the reporter sets out by stating that the subject of his paragraph was "old," and almost immediately afterward gives her age as eighty years. If he intended to mention the age of the deceased, I cannot imagine why he should also say she was "old" — except that he feared the reader might think Mrs. Mary Clark was a young woman or a little girl ' ' eighty years of age," although few people are considered very young at that age.

Next, he informs the reader that the widow was a " woman," thus discouraging the popular delusion that a widow may in some instances be a male instead of a female. It is to be wondered at that the fulsome writer of the paragraph neglected to inform the public that the widow's husband was dead. It seems to me that this reporter might well have saved himself the trouble of writing several superfluous words, and still have been as clearly understood by the reader of news, if he had begun the paragragh, after writing its head, thus :

Mrs. Mary Clark, a widow, aged eighty years, residing, etc.

I believe that the average reader would not have fallen into the error of thinking that Mary Clark was a man — and her name would have suggested that she was a female, without adding "woman" to "widow;" nor would she have been deemed a little boy or girl, or a very young woman, in the absence of the word "old," as "aged eighty years" cannot be construed into meaning extreme youth. If the reporter had written of a "colorless liquid without color," or an "imponderable substance without perceptible weight," he would have made himself scarcely more ridiculous. On a par with the defective paragraph above quoted, is one recently announcing the " death of a wealthy citizen of New York, worth a million dollars. ' ' The reader might have been allowed to judge whether the man "worth a million dollars" was wealthy or not. / think he was : Rothschild, Vanderbilt, Astor, or Stewart mightn't think so.

Again: I find, under the head of "Accidents," also in a first-class New York daily :

Charlie Jones, a little boy of five years, fell into a cistern at, etc.

This is another "frightful example" of plethoric reporting. The reader is first told of the existence of a person named Charlie Jones, and is then informed that Charlie is a "little boy," not a little girl; then, having been told that he is a "little" boy, he is told that the "little" boy is five years old; just as though anybody ever saw a big boy or a grown-up man of the age of five years ! " Charlie Jones, five years old," etc., would have been clear enough — would it not ?

There are daily hundreds of instances in which this ludicrous redundance of expression occurs in the work of careless — or shall I say, ignorant? — reporters. Astounding defects are found in the local columns of many first-class daily newspapers. For example, you take up your morning paper and read that a man — a victim of accident or violence — was " covered over ' ' with blood, and you may be pardoned for wondering why the word "over" was necessary, as "covered" expresses the whole meaning. You also read that something was done "in the meantime," whereas the word "meantime" alone would have expressed what was wished understood. You also read that John Smith was struck over the head. Now, if John received the blow over the head, he had a fortunate escape ; for if the weapon or missile went over his head it went above it, and so missed him altogether. Probably he was struck on the head. A man may receive a blow or a wound over the eye or knee — not over the head.

There is no doubt but that the man will be arrested, as skillful detectives are on his track.

In this sentence the public is informed that there is but a single doubt in the case, that doubt being that the offender will be arrested ; his being arrested is the only doubtful thing about it. What is meant is: ''There is no doubt that the man will be arrested." That makes it right; put in the word "but" where it is not wanted, and the meaning is exactly reversed. I mention this execrable solecism, because it is one almost ■constantly perpetrated by careless writers for the public press.

Jacob Jones died Sunday.

If you heard some one read this, and so did not see the orthography of the word "died," you might ask, "What color did he dye it?" The word "on" should precede the name of the day, in this case, just as much as the word "in " should be used in its place in this sentence : " He did the work in his office." If you omit the word " on " in the sentence announcing the death of Mr. Jones, you may as well omit the preposition "at" in the sentence: "The train will go at eight o'clock." How would it sound to say: "The train will go eight o'clock." I couldn't go it. This ma}' appear like a trifling matter, and I have only been induced to allude to it at all by the fact that I have frequently seen this defect in the news paragraphs of some of the most carefully-conducted papers in the country. Besides, it is but proper to point out even the smallest of every-day errors, that they may eventually be corrected, for whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing aright; and it is highly important that the language of newspapers — the educators of the masses — should be brought as nearly to perfection as possible, and as soon as possible. Let the reader ask himself whether this is not true, before he pronounces me hypercritical or pedantic.

As already hinted, errors of a novel and amusing character sometimes find their way into the manuscripts of the brightest journalists, owing, mainly, to the rush and hurry incident to their work. I cite the following sentence, from an article relating to a certain cemetery, which appeared (the article, not the cemetery itself,) in a Boston daily with which I was connected at the time, the bull being no less amusing because it was the work of The Editor himself:

Owing to a disputed title, doubts arose as to the permanence of the cemetery, and therefore but few were ever interred there, many of whom have since been exhumed and recommitted to the earth in other cemeteries.

When you come to subtract mcuiy from a few, all your mathematical skill must be called into requisition tc an approximate idea of how many are left.

A companion to this is the following paragraph, taken from an Associated Press dispatch from New Orleans, relating to the sinking of the steamer Empire :

Several passengei's left the boat upon her arrival, otherwise the loss of life would have been very large. As it is, eighteen passengers and many of the crew are believed to be drowned.

According to this, the fact that "several" (a few) passengers had left the boat, prevented a "large" loss of life. The second sentence, following the first, sounds very odd, too. "As it is" (any large loss of life having been averted by the escape of a few passengers), "eighteen passengers and many of the crew are believed to be drowned." If this was not a "large" loss of life, notwithstanding the escape of "several" passengers,- what would be considered a large loss of life ? In this bull, however, ridiculous as it looks, I see only evidence of the haste with which the man who sent the dispatch had to do his work. It was late at night, too, and I suppose that few news editors detected the singular defects of diction, or made any alterations in it.

The following paragraph is from a leading London paper :

In a dilapidated house in a narrow by-way, at the back of the Refuge in Newport-market, lived a man named John Bishop, who had been living for some time past with a woman named Ford in the second floor back. Bishop had lately been in the receipt of decent wages, and at times was addicted to drink. On Saturday night he returned home with about i/. 13J. 6d. It is said he left his money on the mantel-shelf, and returning a short time afterward, missed a sovereign. He complained of his loss to deceased, but she denied having seen it.

It will be perceived that down to where the word "deceased " occurs there is not the slightest allusion to a murder or a violent death of any kind, nor any hint as to which of the persons spoken of had so suddenly become "deceased." A person having read this much of the article might begin to wonder what the reporter was talking about. The account, however, goes on to state in detail that, after some quarreling, Bishop murdered the woman. The writer had the idea in his own head all straight enough, but allowed his thoughts to outrun his pen ; hence, he unconsciously obliged the readers of the paper to take something for granted merely because he knew it himself, and the result was somewhat novel. I can readily see how it might occur, and how it occasionally does occur, even with practiced writers. Such a lack of clearness, though, is the exception rather than the rule in the writings of the most proficient journalists.

Here is another curious paragraph, also from a London daily paper :

The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh left Balmoral Castle on Monday morning, and traveled by special train to Aberdeen, where they arrived at 12 o'clock. After a brief stay, the Duke and Duchess left by the 12.23 mail train for London.

Here we are told that the Duke and Duchess arrived at Aberdeen at 12 o'clock, and that, "after a brief stay," they left just twenty-three minutes later. How could their stay have been otherwise than brief, if they arrived at 12 and departed at 12. 23 ? It is difficult to conceive by what means their Royal Highnesses could have stayed a day or two, or even a few hours, in Aberdeen, within the space of twenty-three minutes — unless, indeed, they possessed the power which Milton ascribes to the Almighty to "crowd eternity into an hour, or stretch an horn- into eternity."

Accuracy is important in reporting, if reporting itself is of any importance, but it is not always strictly observed by a certain class of careless reporters or compilers of news paragraphs. For example, almost every day something like this may be read in our daily newspapers :

John Brown, a well-known citizen of Binghamton, was instantly killed, on Thursday/ by being thrown from his horse.

Very good, so far as it goes ; but where did the accident happen ? It might have been in Hong Kong, in Melbourne, or Constantinople, or in Palestine, so far as the information goes ; for although it is stated that Mr. Brown was a citizen of Binghamton, it does not follow that he was killed there. Probably, in such a case, the accident did happen in or near Binghamton, and it is left to be taken for granted ; but as the Browns do not remain at home all their lives, and in fact are even proverbial for their rambling disposition, the writer should have said, "in that city," or "near that city," as the case may have been.