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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

VIII. ORGANIZATION OF THE STORY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BOY BURNS TOES IN BED

Fearing the wrath of his father, Kenneth Cavert, 5-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. George Cavert, Rankin and Franklin streets, suffered in silence while fire in his bed Friday evening painfully burned two of his toes and caused severe burns on his body. The lad went to bed shortly after dark Friday evening. About a half-hour later he went downstairs for a drink. A few minutes later he went down again for a drink. Shortly afterward Mr. and Mrs. Cavert smelled cloth burning in the house, and going upstairs to investigate, found the boy in bed, wide awake, the blankets in flames, which surrounded the lad and had already seared his toes. One of the bed rails was burned almost in two and the bed clothing ruined. The lad afterward said he went downstairs to get a mouthful of water to spit on the flames. "I spit as hard as I could," said he, "but I couldn't put out the fire." Although he will not tell how the fire started, it is supposed he was playing with matches.[6]

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

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

VICTIMS' PROPERTY LISTED

A line of showcases extends down the center of the public hearing room on the first floor of the city hall. Arranged for display are a hundred or more cameras of all sizes, thermos bottles, purses, hand bags, and even a snare drum. Around the room are racks on which are hanging cloaks and coats, here a red sweater, there a white corduroy cloak. Under them are heaps of hats, mostly men's straw, obviously of this year's make. There are several hundred women's headgear, decorated with feathers and ribbons. Along one side are piled suit cases and satchels, open for inspection. They are packed for departure with toothbrushes and toothpaste, packages of gum, tobacco and books. A dozen baseball bats are leaning against one of the pillars near the end of the showcase. There are several uniforms to be worn by bandmen. In the extreme corner, surrounded by hundreds of shoes, of all kinds, is a collapsible go-cart. De Witt C. Cregier, city collector, stood behind one of the showcases yesterday afternoon, with a jeweler's glass, examining bits of ornament. Piled before him in long rows were envelops. One by one, he or his assistants dumped the contents on the glass case and read off descriptions of each article to a stenographer: "One pocket mirror, picture of girl on back; one amethyst filigree pendant; one round gold embossed bracelet; gold bow eye-glasses; Hawthorne club badge attached to fob; two $1 bills." As the articles were listed they were put back into the envelops. Had it not been for one circumstance, it might have been a pawnshop inventory. There was the jewelry worth more than $10,000, articles for personal use, and musical instruments. But under the long rows of coats, hats, and shoes, there was a pool of water. It dripped from the red sweater onto a straw hat beneath. It fell into shoes and the place smelled of wet leather. When the bodies of those who perished in the Eastland disaster were removed from the water, their clothing and jewelry were taken by the police and tabulated. There was no space in the custodian's office; so he hastily fitted up the public hearing-room, brought in showcases and had carpenters build racks for the clothing....[7]

[7] Chicago Tribune, July 26, 1915.

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

VALUED A DRESS ABOVE LIFE

First, there was the young man. One night, while they were on the way to a movie, Ambrosia noticed the young man was looking rather critically at her dress. When one is 17 and lives in a big city where there are any number of girls just as good looking, besides a lot who are better looking, it is a serious matter when a young man begins to look critically at one's dress. Particularly is it serious when the acquisition of a new dress is a matter of much painstaking planning; of dispensing with this or that at luncheon; of walking to work every day instead of only when the weather is fine; and of other painful sacrifices. Ambrosia didn't say anything. She pretended she hadn't noticed the young man's look. But that night, in her room on East Thirteenth Street, Ambrosia indulged in some higher mathematics. It might as well be vouchsafed here that the address on East Thirteenth Street is 1315, and that Ambrosia's name is Dallard, and that she is an operator for the Bell Telephone Company. The net result of her calculations was that, no matter how hard she saved, she wouldn't be able to buy a new dress until December or January. Meanwhile, but Ambrosia knew there couldn't be any meanwhile. She had to have that dress. Ambrosia found a card, and on it was the name of a firm which ardently assured her it wanted to afford her credit. Then there was a little something about a dollar down and a dollar a week until paid for. So Ambrosia got her dress. It had cost her $1, and it would be entirely hers when she had paid $14 more. Ambrosia wore it to a movie and the young man admiringly informed her she "was all dolled up." And everyone was happy. One never can tell about dresses, though; particularly $15 ones. One night, when Ambrosia was wearing the new possession for the third time, it developed a long rip. The cloth was defective. Ambrosia took the dress back. The installment firm was sorry, but could do nothing, and of course the firm expected her to keep paying for it. Ambrosia left the dress, and went back to her old one. The young man noticed it the next time they went out together. Shortly afterward, when he should have called, he didn't. A collector for the installment house did, though. Meanwhile, Ambrosia was saving to buy another dress. She was quite emphatic about the bill from the installment house she wouldn't pay it. Once in awhile she saw the young man, but she didn't care for more calls until the new dress was forthcoming. Tuesday it looked as if everything would come out all right. She had $9 saved. Wednesday she would draw her salary $6. She knew where she could buy just what she wanted for $12.50. It was much better looking than the old dress and better material. She even made an anticipatory engagement with the young man. Wednesday came Ambrosia went to draw her salary. The installment house had garnisheed it. To-day Ambrosia's job is being kept open by the telephone company, and it is thought some arrangement may be made by which the installment house will not garnishee her salary next week. At the General Hospital she is reported as resting well. She was taken there in an ambulance yesterday afternoon after trying to kill herself by inhaling chloroform.[8]

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

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

AERIAL TORPEDO BOAT INVENTED [By Associated Press.]

Washington, July 22. An aerial torpedo boat for attack on ships in protected harbors is projected, it was learned to-day, in patents just issued to Rear Admiral Bradley A. Fiske, now attached to the navy war college, but formerly aid for operations to Secretary Daniels. The plan contemplates equipping a monster aeroplane, similar to a number now under construction in this country for the British government, with a Whitehead torpedo of regulation navy type. Swooping down at a distance of five sea miles from the object of attack, the air craft would drop its deadly passenger into the water just as it would have been launched from a destroyer. The impact sets the torpedo's machinery in motion and it is off at a speed of more than forty knots an hour toward the enemy ship. Admiral Fiske believes the flying torpedo boat would make it possible to attack a fleet even within a landlocked harbor. The range of the newest navy torpedoes is ten thousand yards and even the older types will be effective at seven thousand yards. Carried on a huge aeroplane, the 2,000 pound weapon would be taken over harbor defenses at an altitude safe from gunfire. Once over the bay, the machine would glide down to within ten or twenty feet of water, the torpedo rudders would be set and it would be dropped to do its work while the aeroplane arose and sped away.[9]

[9] Minneapolis Tribune, July 22, 1915.

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

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

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

SCHOOLBOY SUES BRIDE, AGED 40

Villisca, Ia., Dec. 27. Claude Bates, 17 years old and formerly of Villisca, has brought suit in Polk county for the annulment of his marriage to the widow Patrick, 40 years old and the mother of four children, two of whom are older than their stepfather. Bates is still in school, and became acquainted with the widow when he went to her home to call on one of her daughters. According to the petition, young Bates made such a hit with the mother of his best girl that she herself fell in love with him, and was soon a rival of her own daughter. The older woman knew many tricks with which the daughter was unacquainted, and in the end she managed to "bag" the game. The marriage, which took place in Chicago, was kept a secret even after the couple returned home, and it was not until young Bates told the whole story to his mamma a few days ago that his family had an inkling of the true state of affairs. Now the suit has been filed by the boy's mother, because the young husband himself is too young to go into court without a guardian. As one of the causes of the suit, the petition cites that Bates was inveigled into the marriage through "the wiles, artifices, and protestations of love" on the part of the widow. Furthermore, the petition charges that the two were married under assumed names, that their ages were falsely given, and that their residences, as given the marriage clerk, were false. According to the petition, young Bates was attending school, where he met Mrs. Patrick's daughter and fell in love with her. He called at the house and met the mother, who was divorced from her first husband some ten years ago. There were four of the Patrick children, their ages being 13, 15, 17, and 20 years. Bates himself was just 15 at that time. The petition sets up that almost immediately after becoming acquainted with Mrs. Patrick the latter began her attempts to induce young Bates to marry her.[10]

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

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

IX. THE LEAD[11]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Result

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

Cause

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

Cause and Result

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

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

Probable Results

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

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

Means

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

Method

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

Often it is necessary to feature the name:

Name

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

Name

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

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

Place

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

Place

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

Time

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

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

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

OAK PARK HAS A "TYPHOID MARY"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

POLICE OFFICER PAYS PENALTY WITH HIS LIFE "MY DYING STATEMENT." "Gentlemen: I stand before you in my full senses, knowing that no power on earth can save me from the grave that is to receive me. In the face of that, in the face of those who condemn me, and in the presence of my God and your God, I proclaim my absolute innocence of the foul crime for which I must die. "You are now about to witness my destruction by the state which is organized to protect the lives of the innocent. May almighty God pardon everyone who has contributed in any degree to my untimely death. And now on the brink of my grave, I declare to the world that I am proud to have been the husband of the purest, noblest woman that ever lived, Helen Becker. "This acknowledgment is the only legacy I can leave her. I bid you all good-bye. Father, I am ready to go. Amen." "CHARLES BECKER." Ossining, N. Y., July 30. At peace with his Maker, a prayer on his lips, but with never a faltering of his iron will, Charles Becker expiated the murder of Herman Rosenthal at 5:55 this morning. Pinned on his shirt above his heart, he carried with him the picture of his devoted wife. In his hand he clutched the crucifix. The death current cut off in his throat the whisper, "Jesus have mercy." It was not the plea of a man shaken and fearful of death, but rather the prayer of one with the conviction that he was innocent. Just before he entered the death chamber he declared to Father Curry, "I am not guilty by deeds, conspiracy or any other way of the death of Rosenthal. I am sacrificed for my friends." Previously at 4 A.M. he issued "My Dying Statement." It was a passionate reiteration of innocence, and is left as his only legacy to his wife: "I declare to the world that I am proud to have been the husband of the purest, noblest woman that ever lived, Helen Becker." Absolute quiet reigned in the death house at 5.50 A.M. Suddenly the little green door swung open. Becker appeared. He had no air of bravado. Behind him in the procession came Fathers Cashin and Curry. Becker walked unassisted to the death chamber. As he entered he glanced about, seemingly surprised. His face had the expression of a person coming from darkness into sudden light, but there was no hint of hesitancy to meet death in the stride with which he approached the chair which had already claimed the lives of four others in payment for the Rosenthal murder. The doomed man held a black crucifix in his left hand. It was about ten inches long, and as he calmly took his place in the chair, he raised it to his lips. Following the chant of the priests, he entoned, "Oh, Lord, assist me in my last agony. I give you my heart and my soul." When all was ready, the executioner stepped back and in full view of the witnesses calmly shut the switch. As the great current of electricity shot into the frame of the former master of gunmen, the big body straightened out, tugging at the creaking straps. For a few moments it stretched out. A slight sizzling was heard and a slight curl of smoke went up from the right side of Becker's head, rising from under the cap. When the shock was at its height, his grip tightened to the crucifix, but as the electrocutioner snapped the switch off the cross slipped from the relaxed fingers. A guard caught it. The whole body dropped to a position of utter collapse. Becker's shirt was then opened. As the black cloth was turned back to make way for the stethoscope, the picture of Mrs. Becker was revealed. It was pinned inside. The doctors pushed it aside impatiently, evidently not knowing what it was. They held stethoscopes to the heart. Another shock was demanded of the cool young executioner. He stepped back and swung the switch open and shut again. The crumpled body clutched the straps again. Once more the doctors felt his heart. They seemed to argue whether there was still evidence of life. Once again the executioner was appealed to and once again he snapped on and off the switch. The lips then parted in a smile. The stethoscope was applied and it was declared that Becker was dead....[12]

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

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

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

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

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

If you planned to wed in September and married in July just to suit your own convenience, would you be provoked if your dear neighbors immediately seated themselves and wove a beautiful romance out of it? Grace Elliott Bomarie, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Elliott Bomarie, of 930 Lawrence Avenue, and sister of Bessie Bomarie, former famous champion golf player, was not angry to-day. Instead she laughed the merriest kind of a laugh over the telephone and said: "Call me up in half an hour and I will tell you all about it." But she didn't. On the recall (that's the proper word in this day of equal suffrage), she was not at home. Mrs. Bomarie was, and said: "Please just say that Mr. and Mrs. Charles Elliott Bomarie announce the marriage of their daughter, Grace Elliott, to Mr. Albert Wingate."

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

U. S. JACKIES WANT MAIL

Perhaps you've seen a jolly tar A-pushing at the capstan bar Or swabbing off the deck, And figured that a life of ease Attends the jackie on the seas Who draws a U. S. check. His lot, it seems, is not quite so; Just hear this plaintive plea of woe That comes from off the BUFFALO. The sailors rise to raise a wail Because they say they get no mail. Will some Milwaukee misses in their spare moments do Uncle Sam a favor by writing letters to cheer up some of his downhearted nephews in the navy? The boys are just pining away from lonesomeness, owing to the fact that no one writes to them. At least this is the sorrowful plea of G. H. Jones, a sailor aboard the U. S. S. BUFFALO, who writes THE SENTINEL from San Francisco as follows: Girls Why not use some of your idle moments in writing to us? I have been in the navy five years and have never received any mail. G. H. Jones, U. S. S. Buffalo, San Francisco, Cal.[14]

[14] Milwaukee Sentinel, August 7, 1914.

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

FRIEND WIFE WENT TOO FAR

Mr. David Elliott, Chicago. Sir: You can go to the d l, and the quicker the better. Sincerely, Your Wife. This is the letter in which David Elliot thinks his wife "went too far." He produced it before Judge David Matchett Saturday in a suit for divorce.

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

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

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

There are two ways of patching a pair of trousers, neatly and bluey; and probably no tailor in Manhattan is as certain of it to-day as Sigmund Steinbern. So he stated to the police yesterday when a customer sat him down on his lighted gas stove, and so he insisted last night when friends called to see him at the Washington Heights Hospital. Furthermore, to say nothing of moreover, he is a tailor of standing, or will be for the next couple of weeks, and he knows his place. It is not, he feels, upon a gas stove. To friends who called at the hospital to ask Mr. Steinbern exactly what had happened to him, he said, by way of changing the subject, that he has a sign in his store upon which the following appears: EVERYTHING DONE IN A HURRY There, he contends, lies the seed of the trouble. Regarding the seat of the trouble, more anon....[16]

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

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

_DIED_ Claus, Santa, in the American Hospital, Christmas morning, aged 11._ Santa Claus, who wasn't such an old fellow after all, overslept on the great morning. He had gone to bed plain Vern Olson not in a toy shop at the North Pole, but in a little room behind his widowed mother's delicatessen shop at 111 South Robey Street.

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

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

X. THE BODY OF THE STORY

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

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

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

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

CHARGE TWO WITH SHOPLIFTING Edna K. Whitter and Minnie Jensen, saleswomen in a New Haven store, are under arrest charged with shoplifting. The former is said to have confessed after goods valued at more than $1,000 were found in her room. She is said to have implicated Miss Jensen, who denies the charge. Desire to dress elaborately is alleged to have caused the young women to steal. Miss Jensen is the daughter of a farmer. Investigations by detectives, it is said, may result in more arrests....

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

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

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

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

Needless to say, this story was not printed.

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

JILTED, ENDS LIFE WITH A GUN Israel Weilman was in love. Three months ago the girl told him she would not marry him. Last night Weilman left his quarters at 875 Banker Street and went to the home of Rebecca Schussman, 904 South Pueblo Avenue, where his room-mate and cousin, David Isaacs, was calling. "Here are the keys to the room," he told his cousin, "I will not be home to-night." Then Weilman departed. A few minutes later a shot was heard in the alley back of the Schussman home. They found Weilman dead with a bullet wound through his heart. Beside him was a new "American bulldog" revolver, retailing for $1.50. In his pocket was a ticket of sale from the Angsgewitz pawnshop. The profit on this style of weapon is about 25 cents.

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

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

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

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

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

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

$750,000 WORTH OF WHISKEY BURNS Firemen had to fight a canal full of blazing whiskey here to-day when a fire broke out in the building of the Distillery Company, Ltd. Twelve thousand casks of liquor were stored in the building. The conflagration spread rapidly and the explosion of the casks released the whiskey, which made a burning stream of the canal. Firemen pumped water from the bottom of the canal and played it on the blazing surface. The loss is estimated at $750,000.

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

After killing Mrs. Benton, Wallace, and the Weston boy, Carlton set fire to the Lewis "love bungalow." The wounded were unable to care for themselves. They narrowly escaped death in the burning building. Arrival of rescuing parties attracted by the fire alone saved their lives. A hatchet was the weapon used by Carlton. The slayer escaped after the wholesale murder. He is thought to be headed for Chicago. A posse under command of Sheriff Bauer of Spring Green is hunting the man. The story of the terrible tragedy enacted in the Lewis "love bungalow," where for some years the celebrated sculptor and the former Mrs. Cross had been living in open defiance of the conventionalities, was a gruesome one as it came to light to-day. Carlton is twenty-eight years old. He is married. His wife lived with him at the Lewis home. He had been employed by Lewis for six months. He was formerly employed by John Z. Hobart, proprietor of Hobart's restaurant. He is five feet eight inches tall, of medium build and light in color. What caused the trouble or the fury of Carlton is not known. Who first fell is not known. What is known of the tragedy is this: Shortly after noon to-day villagers in the little village of Spring Valley, where the Lewis bungalow is and always has been something of a mystery as well as a wonder to the residents, saw smoke coming from the "love bungalow" on the hills. Villagers ran to the place. The fire department responded to the alarm. The bungalow was rapidly being consumed. Some one entered the house. It was a shambles. Mrs. Benton was found dead. Wallace was dead. Both had been literally chopped to pieces by the infuriated negro. The bungalow was barricaded before entrance was forced. After the dead had been discovered the wounded were found. They were dragged out. The conscious told disjointed stories of the tragedy and of the awful fury that seemed to possess Carlton, the cook. The latter was not to be found. He was at first thought to have taken to the hills. Later it was thought he might be hiding in the underground root cellar but no search lights were available. Men with guns surrounded the house. The negro will be lynched if he is found, it was thought this afternoon.[17]

[17] Chicago American.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

XI. THE PARAGRAPH

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

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

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

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

XII. THE SENTENCE[18]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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