Sixty Years of Journalism: Anecdotes and Reminiscences

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Contents

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Preface 9

II Sixty Years of Journalism

with the business transacted at police courts and quarter sessions, the summarising of local meetings and lectures, the collection of paragraphs, the grim details of coroner's inquests, and, when not engaged outside, the reading of proofs, the marks for which I remember learning from a page of Knighfs Penny Magazine.

Here I may draw attention to the vast difference existing between the newspapers of that day and the journals of the twentieth century.

In 1844 there was not a penny paper in the kingdom, to say nothing of the halfpenny Press which has latterly sprung up in most of our larger towns, the reason being that then, and for many years subsequently, a tax of one penny, in the form of a red Government stamp, had to be impressed on every copy issued from a newspaper office. Not only did the stamp tax render the publication of a penny newspaper impossible, but other and heavier charges were inflicted by the then Government on the Press of this country, which, like spirits and tobacco, seemed to be made the special object oiF attack by successive Chancellors of the Exchequer. At that time paper of all kinds, whether for clerical purposes, books

A Comparison.

and magazines, or commercial and trade wraps, was made from rags, the finer sorts being manufactured from white linen, while the coarser descriptions owed their origin to cloths of inferior quality* Good writing-paper was then very dear^ while the material in use for the production of ordinary newspapers cost about eight times as much as is paid for it at the present day. This enormous disparity in the prices of then and now was due, in the first place, to the cost of the raw material, the business of rag-dealing being highly remunerative and the source of numerous fortunes ; and, in the second place, to the heavy duty imposed by the Government on paper production, an oppressive tax, giving colour to the charge constantly levelled at the State authorities, that their object was to prevent the spread of education among the people of Great Britain. In fact, so serious was the charge for this commodity, even down to the first decade of the last half-century, that while editing and managing the Sunderland Times and Shields Advocate, in the year 1856, having occasion to make a change in the existing arrangement for the supply of paper, I entered into a contract with a paper manufacturer, for the quantity we

Sixty Years of Journalism.

then consumed in our two issues, at sevenpence-halfpenny per pound.

About that time the proprietors of The Times were offering a prize of ;^5oo for the discovery of a cheap fibrous material for the manufacture of a serviceable description of paper, capable of being used for newspaper purposes, and not very long afterwards a substitute was found in Esparto grass and straw, until at length it was discovered that wood pulp was capable of supplanting both these materials, and of yielding quantities, so enormous that, notwithstanding the thousands of tons thus daily procured from European and American forests, there need be little fear either of dearth in the supply or even a decimation of the primeval woods, for countless centuries. Indeed, but for the means which modern science has placed at the disposal of the paper manufacturer, it would be impossible at the present day to meet anything like the demand from all civilised countries for newspapers, books and magazines, as the mere supply of rags could not have kept pace with the wants of the reading public, while any limitation in the output of our paper manufacturers must necessarily have meant a proportionate rise in price..

A Comparison.

In addition to the stamp duty and the heavy paper duty formerly inflicted on the newspaper proprietary and the public, there was another Government charge — an advertisement tax — of an exceptionally severe and oppressive character, not only as keeping down the legitimate profits of news caterers in those days, but also as a means of preventing different sections of the community from making known what they had to dispose of, or the wants they desired to supply, while, in the case of those out of employment, or in need of assistants to fill vacant places, the tax was especially heavy, because it was a serious addition to the price the advertiser had to pay the newspaper proprietor. In this case the tax was a duty of one shilling and sixpence on every advertisement appearing in a newspaper, and, combined with the other duties inflicted on the Press of that period, it helped to make a burden such as was borne by no other interest in the kingdom. As a notable instance of the way in which this multiple system of taxation pressed upon those who provided news for the people, it may be stated that on one occasion, when the then proprietor of The Times, Mr. Walter, was giving evidence before a parliamentary

Sixty Years of Journalism.

committee, appointed for the purpose of inquiring into the whole question of the taxes imposed upon knowledge, he stated that in the case of his newspaper — then having the largest circulation in the kingdom — the three duties paid by that single property to the Exchequer amounted to something like ;^i8o,ooo per annum, an astounding charge upon one particular unit in a somewhat extensive industry.

In the days of which I am now writing the whole of the provincial newspapers, not one-twentieth of the number, nor onefiftieth of the circulation of the journals now available to the public, were weekly publications, there being no daily papers outside the metropolis. The price of these issues was, generally speaking, fourpence-halfpenny, though many were sold at sixpence; but when the penny stamp was abolished, and when, afterwards, the other duties were remitted, daily newspapers sprang into existence, like mushrooms, all over the country, while most of the London papers increased their circulation, especially when they subsequently reduced their prices, by '* leaps and bounds/' The removal of the heavy tax on advertisements was an

j6

A Comparison.

fcx undoubted boon to the public at large, especially to the serving class, for as things are now even the poorest individual can afford to advertise for a place when out of employment, the columns of ** Want places" and ** Situations vacant" now seen in our daily and weekly papers . having no existence while the advertisement duty prevailed.

In the forties the means of producing \ newspapers were, as compared with those

of the present day, of a very primitive type. None of the elaborate and costly machines, such as are now in use on every daily paper, were then even invented, although some of the greater journals, notably The Times j had made considerable advance in their machinery, and could turn out their issues at what was regarded as an adequate rate, there being at that time no early paper trains to catch, whereby, as is now the case, the whole country is flooded by breakfasttime with news from every part of the world — east, west, north and south — received as late as half-past two o*clock in the morning, and whirled away to all points of the compass at five o'clock by trains specially provided for the purpose, and travelling along their several lines

Sixty Years of Journalism.

at express speed. Although the London papers, and many of the principal provincial journals, were printed by steam, the bulk of the country newspapers in the smaller towns, having as a rule but slender circulations, were worked by hand, on machines mostly of the old Napier type, while in some cases even the ancient Columbian plattens, surmounted, as I well remember, by a cast-iron eagle, had in certain places to do the laborious duty of turning out the entire issue.

In the Napier and the Columbian processes the papers had to be submitted to a double operation, as only one side was printed at a time. The work on the platen was performed by an up-and-down lever motion, which brought a flat iron slab on the paper which took the inked impression from the type below. The Napier machine, which was a marked improvement on that of the platen press, produced the necessary result by a continuous rolling action, effected by a cylinder moving over the surface of the type. Now, on the huge machines which not only print the paper on both sides, but have an apparatus folding them ready for delivery to the paper agents, after having, by another process, pasted

A Comparison.

in such extra pages as the pressure of news and advertisements may necessitate, many thousands of copies are turned out every hour, and as fast as the country editions are completed they are driven off by special carts to the numerous railway stations, whence they are despatched to their several destinations.

Even in the composing department the setting of type by machinery has to a considerable extent replaced the slower, but so far surer, method of composition by hand. In the case of the Linotype machine, each line is set and cast in a solid piece, the disadvantage of this process being that if a correction be needed in either of the lines, the turned letter, misplaced pointy or wrongly-spelt word can only be put right by a recast of the faulty line, and in cases where what the printers term ** over-running'" occurs, when a word or two have been omitted or additional words are necessary, the recasting process may be extended some distance down the column, thereby causing a good deal of delay.

As to the facilities for obtaining news from distant places, both at home and abroad — especially the latter — there can be no comparison between the means

Sixty Years of Journalism.

now available and those of sixty years ago. In the early forties the electric telegraph was rarely used by the newspapers, although it was then in existence on some of the railways, where it was practically confined to the service of the companies who had set up the wires. One of the first bits of sensational news conveyed to London by telegraph was the arrest of John Tawell, a Quaker, who had poisoned his mistress while dining with her at an inn in Aylesbury, and had taken train to Liverpool, with the view of evadmg justice by fleeing thence to America. A description of the man was telegraphed to the great shipping port, and on his arrival at Liverpool Mr. Tawell found the' police awaiting him. Although this was before I became a journalist, it has, I think, a sufficient connection with the subject of early Press telegraphy to justify its introduction here. I may add that Tawell was tried, convicted, and hanged — the first member of the Society of Friends ever executed in England. I remember reading, in one of the magazines, an article on the uses to be anticipated from the electric system of conveying instantaneous messages, and it began with the

A Comparison.

remark attributed to a traveller on the London and North Western Railway, who was scanning the telegraph wires as the train speeded northwards, ** Them's the cords that hung John Tawell."

In the forties telegraphy was far too costly for constant use by the Press, and, moreover, it was only in what I may term its ** teething " stage, a lengthy message being then very slow as compared with what is achieved nowadays, and it being impossible to receive the same evening a verbatim report, such as now comes nightly, of a speech by some prominent public man, or an account of some important event, such as regularly meets the eye when the messenger has delivered the morning paper. Beyond this, an electric cable that would flash the news of the Western world from New York to London in a few seconds, or a series of connected wires stretching across the Eastern continent and the faraway Indian and Pacific Oceans, had never entered the brain of the scientific electrician ; consequently the people of the two hemispheres had to rest content with the news brought by the few and slow-going Atlantic steamers, or the still slower sailing vessels trading to and from

Sixty Years of Journalism.

the distant East, all of which, as there was then no Suez Canal, had to make the circuitous passage of the Cape, Now, however, some of the great metropolitan journals have the special use of the Channel cables, whereby their offices in London, Paris, Berlin, Vienna, and other European capitals are in constant communication with each other, and are able on the instant, through their special correspondents, to collect and telegraph every item of news to which the least importance is attached. Thus the latest developments in the Russo - Japanese War, the newest indications regarding the forthcoming presidential election in the United States, the visits, journeys, and speeches of emperors and kings, the casualties that constantly happen on sea and land, and the score of other things in which the slightest public interest is felt are duly recorded in the morning and evening editions of our newspapers, whose readers, like the prince in the Arabian Nights^ have only to wish for a sight of what is going on in any part of the world to find their desire abundantly gratified. The newspaper reader of the present day has much to be thankful for, as compared with the state of things in

Some. Early Experiences.

which his forefathers' existence was cast ; and now that wireless telegraphy is making itself a factor in the spread of information throughout the world, it is not unlikely that the day will soon arrive when some of the most enterprising and wealthy of our newspaper proprietors will have their own wireless telegraphic stations constructed, so as to obtain independent and exclusive information from the most distant points to which the wireless system may be found capable of extension.

SOME EARLY EXPERIENCES.

Such, in the brief sketch I have given, having been the condition of matters relating to the newspaper world about the time I began my journalistic career, I now proceed to put together such of my Press reminiscences as I think may prove of interest to the reader. The earliest event I can remember in connection with politics is an election that took place in Preston, where a fierce contest was going on between the supporters of two rival candidates — Tory and Liberal — for the parliamentary representation of the borough* That was notoriously a period of bribery^ treating and general political corruption, party feeling on both sides running so high that frequent encounters took place when two opposing factions met. On one occasion a fight of the most vigorous and determined character took place in the widest part of the central thoroughfare, where men attached to each party, armed with bludgeons and heavy missiles which they tore from the street pavement, attacked each other with the greatest fury. A band which had been parading the town had its instruments seized and broken ; the whole of the windows in the front portion of a large hotel were smashed, and considerable damage done to the furniture. Men and even women were to be seen rushing about with bleeding faces and torn clothing, till at length the rioting took so dangerous a form that the mayor found it necessary to read the Riot Act and call on the military, for whom he had just sent, to quell the disturbance. This they luckily succeeded in doing by advancing on the crowds with fixed bayonets, although it took some time to clear the streets. These were the " good old days," when scenes of this character were by no

. Some Early Experiences.

means infrequent in most of the parliamentary boroughs of the country, stimulated to a large extent by the pretty general custom of throwing open, in cases of keen contests, public-houses and beer-shops, where the voters on both sides could obtain free liquor — an abuse that was usually winked at, because each party was generally tarred with the same brush.

Before I had been long accustomed to the use of notebook and pencil, I was ^ent to many of the less important meetings in .and about the town and neighbourhood. Occasionally I •was entrusted with the work of reporting an agricultural dinner in an outlying district, and I well remember what I regard as an amusing incident. At one of these dinners a mischievous gentleman, wha edited the opposition paper, thought he would make merry at my expense, and,, unknown to me, gave the chairman my name as the person to be called upon to respond to the toast of **The Press,'' then usually given at these gatherings. Imagine the astonishment of a boy, still a long way from the finish of his teens, when asked in a large company to reply to one of the evening's toasts. But

I had had the good fortune, on more than one occasion, to hear the same toast responded to by the humorous gentleman who served me this trick, and as he had a stereotyped set of phrases in laudation of his profession, some of which I could remember, I thought I would try to turn the wished-for laugh against himself. As I was not unnecessarily bashful — turn-down collar and ^hort jacket notwithstanding — I began by regretting that my more experienced friend had not been charged with the duty of acknowledging the compliment paid to us, but I believed they were all aware, as he would have told them had he been called upon, that **the freedom of the Press is as the air we breathe ; if we have it not, we die''; also that the newspaper was a ** potent instrument in the education of the people " ; further, that ** while it strenuously upheld what was right and just, it exposed and reprobated the ways of the tyrant and oppressor,'' Avith a few more commonplace sentiments of the same kind. As most of those present had heard these astounding verities before, their repetition completely turned the tables in my favour, and when I sat down my

A Storm at Whitehaven.

friend, who was seated near me, simply whispered, **You young rascal!''

A STORM AT WHITEHAVEN.

My next engagement was in conjunction with my father on a Whitehaven paper^ the Cumberland Pacquet. Here I made my first descent into a coal mine, called the Wellington Pit, and said at that time to be one of the deepest in the kingdom. This mine extended a considerable distance under the mouth of the Solway, and yielded a first-class quality of coal, which could then be carted to the householder's door at 5s. per ton. Although this is hardly a Press reminiscence, it suggests a sufficiently startling comparison between the prices realised in those days and the figures now appearing in newspaper advertisements. While here I remember witnessing, and 'afterwards describing, a somewhat thrilling spectacle. A fierce south-westerly gale had been blowing all day, and as night was advancing a foreign timber ship was seen to be running before the wind and endeavouring to make for the harbour; but owing to the peculiar position of the two piers

^7

Sixty Years of Journalism.

and the narrow entrance, the vessel was unable to take the necessary turn, and in a few minutes had drifted on the rocks beyond, where she was speedily crushed to pieces. She had, however, shaved the second pier so closely that, by a merciful act of Providence, the crew were all enabled to leap upon terra firma, and so were saved from what must otherwise have been inevitable death.

During my experience here I was present at the opening of the Whitehaven and Ravenglass Railway, a line which skirts the Cumberland coast, along one of the most picturesque portions of the kingdom. On one hand is the sea, with views in clear weather of the Isle of Man and the Kirkcudbright hills, which form the extreme promontory of the Solway embouchure ; while on the other are the Cumberland mountains with their intervening valleys, the middle distance presenting a varied display of wood and plain.

THE LATE BARON MARTIN.

I did not remain in Whitehaven very long, but during my stay I accepted a short engagement at the Cumberland

Liverpool and Bangor.

Assizes on the Carlisle Journal^ being the guest of Mr. Steele, the proprietor. I only mention this circumstance in order to note a characteristic incident in the career of the late Baron Martin, who was then leader of the Northern Circuit. I was deputed to report the proceedings in the Nisi Prius Court, where an exceedingly important mining claim was expected to be tried. Baron, or as he then was Mr. Martin, Q.C., was for the defendant, and when, after a lengthy opening address, plaintiff's counsel, referring to the fact that there was a partnership among his clients, said: ** I suppose, my lord, my learned friend admits the partnership ? *'' Mr. Martin dryly replied : ** My lord, I admit nothing." **Then, my lord," said plaintiff's counsel, ** as I am unable to prove the partnership I must submit to a non-suit." Thus ended a case involving many thousands of pounds, and which was expected to have occupied the court for at least a week.

LIVERPOOL AND BANGOR.

From Whitehaven I went to Liverpool, where my father had been engaged as editor of the Albion, and here I was

Sixty Years of Journalism.

employed in a more absorbing kind of work than I had hitherto been accustomed to. I was occasionally sent to meet the American steamers on their arrival in the Mersey with a view to securing, at the earliest moment, copies of the New York and other American papers, for use in our next edition. This was not at all times a pleasant task, especially on a dark and stormy night; but it had to be performed, and I never knew a case in which either I or any of my confreres engaged on the same errand came to grief. Liverpool in those days was not to be compared with what it is now, either in population or extent, while Birkenhead was a comparatively insignificant place, and the line of docks then existent, though important and extensive, was infinitely less majestic and imposing than it has since become. The magnificent building known as St. George's Hall, which occupies the most commanding position in the city, was not then erected, and Sefton Park, one of the largest and finest in the North of England, had no existence as a recreation ground for the people. While located in this busy port I applied for and obtained, as I imagined, an engagement on a Bangor newspaper, and thither I repaired- on a

Liverpool and Bangor^ steamboat which sailed between that place and the Mersey on alternate days. Considering the engagement secure, and not being too plentifully supplied with funds, I had only taken sufficient for my fare and enough, as I supposed, to tide me over a day or two until I got settled in my new berth. But soon after landing in the picturesque old city I had an interview with the proprietor of the paper I had hoped to adorn, when, to my intense digust, he not only refused to ratify the engagement because I had no knowledge of the Welsh language, about which he had given no previous hint, but also declined to reimburse the expenses of that fateful trip. As I had put up at the principal hotel, and must remain until I could catch the next day's boat, I spent part of the evening in the smoking-room, in which were a number of gentlemen, all of whom were conversing in the Welsh tongue. When, however, they heard me give an order in English and realised that they had a lonely stranger in their midst, they at once changed their conversation into English, which all were able to speak,. an act of courtesy quite as acceptable as it was unexpected and unusual. Next morning when I asked for my bill I found

Sixty Years of Journalism.

that its settlement, with the necessary tips, exhausted the whole of my available <:ash, and necessitated my going without breakfast. Making some excuse, I walked over the Menai Suspension Bridge and about the Isle of Anglesea till noon, when my boat was to start. There was a strong wind then blowing down the straits, and the steamer did not take its Beaumaris passengers on board till, in the attempt to fasten the vessel to the wooden pier it had torn half the timbers away, with the result that we had to be rowed into mid-stream in order to embark. Fortunately, with some regard to possibilities, I had obtained a return ticket, so that my passage to Liverpool was secure ; but I shall never forget the hungry cravings induced by the long fast I was undergoing in the keen sea air, the boat not reaching Liverpool till seven o'clock in the evening.

HERTFORD — A BARONET POLICE CONSTABLE.

From Liverpool I journeyed to Hertford, where, once more in company with my father, I did some uneventful work for the Herts County Press. The only incident

3'^

Brighton from 1848 to 1852.

I need associate with this period is that, while reporting cases before the county magistrates, I made the acquaintance of a police sergeant who bore the title of a baronet ; but, his patrimony having been squandered by his predecessors, he was reduced to the necessity of joining the police force, in which he had then risen to the position just named. I have not been able to trace his subsequent career, and as he was always offended by any allusion to his title, and as there may be a successor equally indisposed to have his baronetcy recognised, I purposely withhold his name.

BRIGHTON FROM 1848 TO 1852.

From Hertford I went to Brighton, where I had obtained a situation as reporter on the Guardian. The ** Queen of Watering Places," as Brighton was then generally termed, was a totally different place at that date from what it is now. There was only one pier — the old chain pier — which was destroyed a few winters ago by a furious gale, and the chief hotel was the ** Bedford." The buildings on the west front ceased at Brunswick Square; there was no

Sixty Years of Journalism.

elaborate promenade arrangement such as now exists ; on the London road the country was visible soon after the level was passed, and Hove was a village which had to be reached by paths across the fields. The Pavilion had not been purchased by the local authority, which was then a Cohimission, the incorporation of the town not having then been dreamt of. The principal magnates were the High Constable and the Master of Ceremonies, the latter being consulted on occasions connected with the holding of balls, soirees and the like. The High Constable used to preside annually at a Court Leet, which exercised a certain jurisdiction in the Hundred of Brighthelmstone and Half Hundred of Dean. The court business was always followed by a banquet, at which, strange to say, the ** loving cup " that went round, as part of the old custom, was filled with stout, instead of the spiced wines customary at dinners given by the Lord Mayor of London and other municipal dignitaries. The newspapers — Gazette, Herald and Guardian — were all weekly publications, and used to report local meetings and occurrences with an amount of detail that would not be tolerated in these go-ahead days.

The celebrated, I may say the notorious Brighton minority church rate case, was then in abeyance, awaiting the decision of the House of Lords in the equally notorious Braintree case.

I well remember attending, one Easter Monday, a vestry meeting at which the making of the rate was discussed. It was held in the body of the parish church, and lasted for several hours. A more disgraceful scene I have never witnessed in the interior of a sacred edifice. Except that there was no display of actual violence, it was an exhibition of the lowest ruffianism. Any attempt at argument on either side was met with derisive shouts and objurgatory remarks, pots of beer were brought in and consumed, short pipes were filled and smoked, and the whole procedure was more suggestive of a terrestrial pandemonium than an orderly assemblage engaged in the consideration of an important church question.

At Brighton I made the acquaintance of the late Revc F. W. Robertson, who was then regarded by conipetent critics

Sixty Years of Journalism.

as one of the most — if not the most — eloquent preachers in the kingdom. I used at times to report his sermons for a French lady of title, one of his numerous friends and admirers, and as I kept duplicates of some of his most striking orations, I was glad to be enabled to present them to the committee who opened a fund for the benefit of his widow immediately after his premature death. Lady Byron, the widow of the poet, was residing in Brighton at this time, and I have frequently seen her seated in a pew not far from the pulpit, listening with rapt attention to the preacher's lofty and glowing periods. After the death of Mr. Robertson, Lady Byron had a bust of the reverend gentleman chiselled by a local sculptor, who, at her ladyship's request, was enabled to procure a plaster cast of the dead man's features.