Part 4 (1/2)

=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 partic.i.p.ants 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 ill.u.s.trations, 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 impa.s.sioned and seemingly spontaneous bursts of oratory that one hears on church, lecture, and political platforms are but verbal reproductions of typewritten ma.n.u.script 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 ma.n.u.script, 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 pa.s.sages of particularly pithy or dynamic pa.s.sages. 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 att.i.tude 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 bas.e.m.e.nt 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 pa.s.sed. 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 a.s.set. 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 ma.s.s 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, s.p.a.ce 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 s.p.a.ce 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 ill.u.s.trated 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. s.p.a.ce Order.=--The s.p.a.ce order explains itself, being nothing else than descriptive writing. The following story of the _Eastland_ disaster in 1915 ill.u.s.trates the s.p.a.ce 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 gla.s.s, examining bits of ornament.

Piled before him in long rows were envelops. One by

one, he or his a.s.sistants dumped the contents on the

gla.s.s 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-gla.s.ses; 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 circ.u.mstance,

it might have been a p.a.w.nshop 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 s.p.a.ce 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, ill.u.s.trates 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 a.s.sured 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;