NEWSPAPER REPORTING AND CORRESPONDENCE

 A MANUAL FOR REPORTERS, CORRESPONDENTS, AND STUDENTS OF NEWSPAPER WRITING

 BY

 GRANT MILNOR HYDE, M. A. 

 INSTRUCTOR IN JOURNALISM IN THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN. 

 NEW YORK AND LONDON D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 1912

 COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

 Printed in the United States of America

 TO MY MOTHER

INTRODUCTION

The purpose of this book is to instruct the prospective newspaperreporter in the way to write those stories which his future paper willcall upon him to write, and to help the young cub reporter and thestruggling correspondent past the perils of the copyreader's pencil bytelling them how to write clean copy that requires a minimum of editing. It is not concerned with the _why_ of the newspaper business--the editormay attend to that--but with the _how_ of the reporter's work. And anability to write is believed to be the reporter's chief asset. There isno space in this book to dilate upon newspaper organization, the work ofthe business office, the writing of advertisements, the principles ofeditorial writing, or the how and why of newspaper policy and practice, as it is. These things do not concern the reporter during the first fewmonths of his work, and he will learn them from experience when he needsthem. Until then, his usefulness depends solely upon his ability to getnews and to write it. 

There are two phases of the work which every reporter must learn: how toget the news and how to write it. The first he can pick up easily byactual newspaper experience--if nature has endowed him with "a nose fornews. " The writing of the news he can learn only by hard practice--ayear's hard practice on some papers--and it is generally conceded thatpractice in writing news stories can be secured at home or in theclassroom as effectively as practice in writing short stories, plays, business letters, or any other special form of composition. Newspaperexperience may aid the reporter in learning how to write his stories, but a newspaper apprenticeship is not absolutely necessary. However, whether he is studying the trade of newspaper writing in his home, in aclassroom, or in the city room of a daily paper, he needs positiveinstruction in the English composition of the newspaper office--ratherthan haphazard criticism and a deluge of "don'ts. " Hence this book isconcerned primarily with the writing of the news. 

Successful newspaper reporting requires both an ability to write goodEnglish and an ability to write good English in the conventionalnewspaper form. And there is a conventional form for every kind ofnewspaper story. Many editors of the present day are trying to breakaway from the conventional form and to evolve a looser and more naturalmethod of writing news stories. The results are often bizarre andsometimes very effective. Certainly originality in expression adds muchto the interest of newspaper stories, and many a good piece of news isruined by a bald, dry recital of facts. Just as the good reporter isalways one who can give his yarns a distinctive flavor, great newspaperstories are seldom written under the restriction of rules. But no youngreporter can hope to attain success through originality and defiance ofrules until he has first mastered the fundamental principles ofnewspaper writing. He can never expect to write "the story of the year"until he has learned to handle everyday news without burying the gist ofhis stories--any more than an artist can hope to paint a living portraituntil he has learned, with the aid of rules, to draw the face of aplaster block-head. Hence the emphasis upon form and system in thisbook. And, whatever the form may be, the embodiment must be clear, concise, grammatical English; that is the excuse for the many axioms ofsimple English grammar that are introduced side by side with the studyof the newspaper form. 

The author offers this book as the result of personal newspaperexperience and of his work as instructor in classes in newspaper writingat the University of Wisconsin. Every item that is offered is the resultof an attempt to correct the mistakes that have appeared most often inthe papers of students who are trying to do newspaper writing in theclassroom. The seemingly disproportionate emphasis upon certain branchesof the subject and the constant repetition of certain simple principlesare to be excused by the purpose of the book--to be a text-book in thecourse of study worked out in this school of journalism. The use of thefire story as typical of all newspaper stories and as a model for allnewspaper writing is characteristic of this method of instruction. Fourchapters are devoted to the explanation of a single principle which anyreader could grasp in a moment, because experience has shown that anequivalent of four chapters of study and practice is required to teachthe student the application of this principle and to fix it in his mindso thoroughly that he will not forget it in his later work of writingmore complicated stories. It is felt that the beginner needs and musthave the detailed explanation, the constant reiteration and somedefinite rules to guide him in his practice. Hence the emphasis upon theconventional form. Since, in the application of the newspaper principleof beginning with the gist of the story, the structure of the lead is ofgreater importance than the rest of the story, this book devotes thegreater part of its discussion to the lead. 

The suggestions for practice are attached in an attempt to give theyoung newspaper man some _positive_ instruction. Most reporters areinstructed by a system of "don'ts, " growled out by busy editors; mostcorrespondents receive no instruction at all--a positive suggestion nowand then cannot but help them both. Practice is necessary in the studyof any form of writing; these suggestions for practice embody the methodof practice used in this school of journalism. The examples are takenfrom representative papers of the entire country to show the student howthe stories are actually written in newspaper offices. 

 Madison, Wisconsin, June 3, 1912. 

CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. GATHERING THE NEWS 1

 II. NEWS VALUES 14

 III. NEWSPAPER TERMS 28

 IV. THE NEWS STORY FORM 34

 V. THE SIMPLE FIRE STORY 41

 VI. THE FEATURE FIRE STORY 50

 VII. FAULTS IN NEWS STORIES 75

 VIII. OTHER NEWS STORIES 105

 IX. FOLLOW-UP AND REWRITE STORIES 125

 X. REPORTS OF SPEECHES 143

 XI. INTERVIEWS 169

 XII. COURT REPORTING 192

 XIII. SOCIAL NEWS AND OBITUARIES 204

 XIV. SPORTING NEWS 219

 XV. HUMAN INTEREST STORIES 233

 XVI. DRAMATIC REPORTING 259

 XVII. STYLE BOOK 276

 APPENDIX I--SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 294

 APPENDIX II--NEWS STORIES TO BE CORRECTED 311

 INDEX 339

NEWSPAPER REPORTING AND CORRESPONDENCE

I

GATHERING THE NEWS

Unlike almost any other profession, that of a newspaper reportercombines two very different activities--the gathering of news and thewriting of news. Part of the work must be done in the office and part ofit outside on the street. At his desk in the office a reporter isengaged in the literary, or pseudo-literary, occupation of writing newsstories; outside on the street he is a detective gathering news andhunting for elusive facts to be combined later into stories. Althoughthe two activities are closely related, each requires a different sortof ability and a different training. In a newspaper office the twoactivities are rarely separated, but a beginner must learn each dutyindependent of the other. This book will not attempt to deal with both;it will confine itself mainly to one phase, the pseudo-literaryactivity of writing news stories. 

However, introductory to the discussion of the writing of newspaperstories, we may glance at the other side of the newspaper writer'swork--the gathering of the news. Where the newspaper gets its news andhow it gets its news can be learned only by experience, for it differsin different cities and with different papers. But an outline of thebackground of news-gathering may assist us in writing the news after itis gathered and ready for us to write. 

=1. Reporter vs. Correspondent. =--There are two capacities in which onemay write news stories for a paper. He may work on the staff as aregular reporter or he may supply news from a distance as acorrespondent. In the one case he works under the personal supervisionof a city editor and spends his entire time at the regular occupation ofgathering and writing news. As a correspondent he works in a distantcity, under the indirect supervision of the city, telegraph, or stateeditor, and sends in only the occasional stories that seem to be ofinterest to his paper. In either case the same rules apply to his newsgathering and to his news writing. And in either case the length of hisemployment depends upon his ability to turn in clean copy in the formin which his paper wishes to print the news. Both the reporter and thecorrespondent must write their stories in the same form and must look atnews and the sources of news from almost the same point of view. Whatever is said of the reporter applies equally to the correspondent. 

=2. Expected and Unexpected News. =--The daily news may be divided intotwo classes from the newspaper's point of view: expected and unexpectednews. Expected news includes all stories of which the paper has aprevious knowledge. Into this class fall all meetings, speeches, sermons, elections, athletic contests, social events, and dailyhappenings that do not come unexpectedly. They are the events that areannounced beforehand and tipped off to the paper in time for the editorto send out a reporter to cover them personally. These events are ofcourse recorded in the office, and each day the editor has a certainnumber of them, a certain amount of news that he is sure of. Each day helooks over his book to note the events that are to take place duringthat day and sends out his reporters to cover them. 

The other class includes the stories that break unexpectedly. Accidents, deaths, fires, storms, and other unexpected happenings come withoutwarning and the reporting of them cannot be arranged for in advance. These are the stories that the paper is most anxious to get and thethings for which the whole staff always has its eyes and ears open. Seldom are they heard of in time for the paper to have them coveredpersonally, and the reporting of such stories becomes a separate sort ofwork--the gathering and sorting of the facts that can be obtained onlyfrom chance witnesses. 

=3. News Sources. =--There are certain sources from which the paper getsmost of its tips of expected events and its knowledge of unexpectedevents. These every editor knows about. The courts, the public records, the public offices, the churches, and the schools furnish a great manyof the tips of expected news. The police stations, the fire stations, the hospitals, and the morgues furnish most of the tips of unexpectednews. Whenever an event is going to happen, or whenever an unexpectedoccurrence does happen, a notice of it is to be found in some one ofthese sources. Such a notice or a casual word from any one is called a"tip" and indicates the possibility of securing a story. The securing ofthe story is another matter. A would-be reporter may get good practicefrom studying the stories in the daily papers and trying to discover orimagine from what source the original news tip came. He will soon findthat certain classes of stories always come from certain sources andthat there is a perceptible amount of routine evident in the accountsof the most unexpected occurrences. 

=4. Runs and Assignments. =--Between the news tip and the finished copyfor the compositor there is a vast amount of news gathering, which fallsto the lot of the reporter. This is handled by a system of runs andspecial assignments. A reporter usually has his own run, or beat, onwhich he gathers news. His run may cover a certain number of policestations or the city hall or any group of regular news sources. Each dayhe must visit the various sources of news on his beat and gather thetips and whatever facts about the stories behind the tips that he can. The tips that he secures furnish him with clues to the stories, and itis his business to get the facts behind all of the tips on his beat andto write them up, unless a tip opens up a story that is too big for himto handle alone without neglecting his beat. 

Assignments are used to cover the stories that do not come in throughthe regular sources, and to handle the big stories that are unearthed onthe regular beats. The editor turns over to the reporter the tip that hehas received and instructs him to go out and get the facts. A paper'sbest reporters are used almost entirely on assignments, and when they goout after a story they practically become detectives. They follow everyclue that the tip suggests and every clue that is opened up as theyprogress; they hunt down the facts until they are reasonably sure thatthey have secured the whole story. The result may not be worth writing, or it may be worth a place on the front page, but the reporter must getto the bottom of it. Whether on a beat or on an assignment everyreporter must have his ears open for a tip of some unexpected story andmust secure the facts or inform the editor at once. It is in this waythat a paper gets a scoop, or beat, on its rivals by printing a storybefore the other papers have heard of it. 

=5. Interviews for Facts. =--To cover an assignment and secure the factsof a story is not at all easy. If the reporter could be a personalwitness of the happening which he is to report, the task would besimpler. But, outside the case of expected events, he rarely hears ofthe occurrence until after it is past and the excitement has subsided. Then he must find the persons who witnessed the occurrence or who knowthe facts, and get the story from them. Perhaps he has to see a dozenpeople to get the information he wants. Getting facts from people inthis way is called interviewing--interviewing for facts, asdistinguished from formal interviewing for the purpose of securing astatement or an opinion that is to be printed with the name of the manwho utters it. Although a dozen interviews may be necessary for asingle story, not one of them is mentioned in the story, for they are ofno importance except in the facts that they supply. 

For example, suppose a reporter is sent out to get the story of a firethat has started an hour or two before he goes on duty. All that hiseditor gives him is the tip from the fire department, or from some othersource, of a fire at such-and-such an address. When he arrives at thescene there is nothing left but smoldering ruins with perhaps an enginethrowing a stream on the smoking débris and a few by-standers stillloitering about. He can see with his own eyes what kind of building hasburned, and how completely it has been destroyed. A by-stander may beable to tell him who occupied the building or what it was used for, buthe must hunt for some one else who can give him the exact facts that hispaper wants. Perhaps he can find the tenant and learn from him what hisloss has been. The tenant can give him the name of the owner and may beable to tell him something about the origin of the fire. He must findthe owner to get the value of the building and the amount of insurancecarried. Perhaps he cannot find any of these people and must ask thefire chief or some one else to give him what facts and estimates he can. If the fire is at all serious he must find out who was killed orinjured and get their names and addresses and the nature of their injuryor the manner of their death. Perhaps he can talk to some of the peoplewho had narrow escapes, or interview the friends or relatives of thedead. Everywhere he turns new clues open up, and he must follow each oneof them in turn until he is sure that he has all the facts. 

=6. Point of View. =--The task would be easy if every one could tell thereporter just the facts that his paper wants. But in the confusion everyone is excited and fairly bubbling over with rumors and guesses whichmay later turn out to be false. Each person who is interested in theincident sees and tells it only from his own point of view. Obviouslythe reporter's paper does not want the facts from many different pointsof view, nor even from the point of view of the fire department, of theowner, or of the woman who was rescued from the third floor. The paperwants the story from a single point of view--the point of view of anuninterested spectator. Consequently the reporter must get the factsthrough interviews with a dozen different people, discount possibleexaggeration and falsity due to excitement, make allowances for thedifferent points of view, harmonize conflicting statements, and siftfrom the mass what seems to him to be the truth. Then he must write thestory from the uninterested point of view of the public, which wants tohear the exact facts of the fire told in an unprejudiced way. Never doesthe story mention any of the interviews behind it except when thereporter is afraid of some statement and wants to put the responsibilityupon the person who gave it to him. And so the finished story that weread in the next morning's paper is the composite story of the firechief, the owner, the tenant, the man who discovered the fire, the widowwho was driven from her little flat, the little girl who was carrieddown a ladder through the smoke, the man who lost everything he had inthe world, and the cynic who watched the flames from behind thefireline--all massed together and sifted and retold in an impersonal wayfrom the point of view of a by-stander who has been everywhere throughthe flames and has kept his brain free from the terror and excitement ofit all. 

The same is true of every story that is printed in a newspaper. Everystory must be secured in the same way--whether it is the account of abusiness transaction, a bank robbery, a political scandal, a murder, areception, or a railroad wreck. Seldom is it possible to find any oneperson who knows all the facts just as the newspaper wants them, andmany a story that is worth but a stickful in the first edition is theresult of two hours' running about town, half a dozen telephone calls, and a dozen interviews. That is the way the news is gathered, and thatis the part of the reporter's work that he must learn by experience. Butafter all the gathering is finished and he has the facts, the writing ofthe story remains. If the reporter knows how to write the facts when hehas them, his troubles are cut in half, for nowadays a reporter whowrites well is considered a more valuable asset than one who cannotwrite and simply has a nose for news. 

=7. News-Gathering Agencies. =--This account of news gathering is ofcourse told from the point of view of the reporter. Naturally it assumesa different aspect in the editor's eyes. Much of the day's news does nothave to be gathered at all. A steady stream of news flows in ready foruse from the great news-gathering agencies, the Associated Press, theUnited Press, the City Press, etc. , and from correspondents. Manystories are merely summaries of speeches, bulletins, announcements, pamphlets and other printed matter that comes to the editorial office, and many stories come already written. Almost everybody is looking forpublicity in these days and the editor does not always have to hunt thenews with an army of ferrets. Coöperation in news gathering hassimplified the whole matter. But it all has to be written and edited. That is why great reporters are no longer praised for their clevernessin worming their way to elusive facts, but for their ability to write agood story. That is why we no longer hear so much about beats and scoopsbut more about clean copy and "literary masterpieces. "

=8. How the Correspondent Works. =--The correspondent gathers news verymuch as the reporter does, but he does it without the help of a cityeditor. He must be his own director and keep his own book of tips, forhe has no one to make out his assignments beforehand. He has to watchfor what news he can get by himself and send it to his paper of his ownaccord, except occasionally when his paper instructs him to cover aparticularly large story. But he gets his tips and runs down his factsjust as a reporter does. Just as much alertness and just as much abilityto write are required of him. 

The correspondent's work is made more difficult by what is called newsvalues. Distance affects the importance of the facts that he secures andthe length of the stories he writes. He must weigh every event for itsinterest to readers a hundred or a thousand miles away. What may be ofimmense importance in his community may have no interest at all forreaders outside that community. He must see everything with the eyes ofa stranger, and this must influence his whole work of news gatheringand news writing. This matter will be taken up at greater length in thenext chapter. 

=9. Correspondent's Relation to His Paper. =--The relations of acorrespondent to the paper or news association to which he is sendingnews can best be learned by experience. Every paper has different rulesfor its correspondents and different directions in regard to the sort ofnews it wants. The rules regarding the mailing of copy and the sendingof stories or queries by telegraph are usually sent out in printed formby each individual paper to its correspondents. But while gathering newsand writing stories for a distant paper, a correspondent must alwaysregard himself as a reporter and write his stories in the form in whichthey are to appear in print if he wishes to remain correspondent for anylength of time. The following rules are taken from the "INSTRUCTIONS TOCORRESPONDENTS" sent out on a printed card to the correspondents of theSt. Louis _Star_:

 QUERY BY WIRE ON ALL STORIES you consider are worth telegraphing, unless you are absolutely certain _The Star_ wants you to send the story without query, or in case of a big story breaking suddenly near edition time. If you have not time to query, get a reply and send such matter as might be ordered before the next edition time; send the story in the shortest possible number of words necessary to tell it, asking if additional matter is desired. 

 Write your queries so they can be understood. Never send a "blind" query. If John Smith, a confirmed bachelor, whose age is 80 years, elopes with and marries the daughter of the woman who jilted him when he was a youth, say so in as few words as possible, but be sure to convey the dramatic news worth of the story in your query. Do not say, "Bachelor elopes with girl, daughter of woman he knew a long time ago. " In itself the story which this query tells might be worth printing, but it would not be half so good a story as the elopement of John Smith, 80, bachelor, woman hater, with the daughter of his old sweetheart. 

 When a good story breaks close to edition time and the circumstances justify it, use the long-distance telephone, but first be reasonably certain _The Star_ will not get the story from another source. 

 Write your stories briefly. _The Star_ desires to remunerate its correspondents according to the worth of a story and not for so many words. One good story of 200 words with the right "punch" in the introduction is worth a dozen strung over as many dozen pages of copy paper with the real story in the last paragraph of each. Tell your story in simple, every-day conversational words: quit when you have finished. Relegate the details. Unless it is a case of identification in a murder mystery, or some similar big story, no one cares about the color of the man's hair. Get the principal facts in the first paragraph--stop soon after. 

 Send as much of your stuff as possible by mail, especially if you have the story in the late afternoon and are near enough to St. Louis to reach _The Star_ by 9 o'clock the next morning. If necessary, send the letter special delivery. 

 Don't stop working on a good story when you have all the facts; if there are photographs to be obtained, get the photographs, especially if the principals in the story are persons of standing, and more especially if they are women. 

 Correspondents will appreciably increase their worth to _The Star_ and enhance their earning capacity by observing these rules. 

II

NEWS VALUES

Before any one can hope to write for a newspaper he must know somethingabout news values--something about the essence of interest that makesone story worth a column and cuts down another, of equal importance fromother points of view, to a stickful. He must recognize the relativevalue of facts so that he can distinguish the significant part of hisstory and feature it accordingly. The question is a delicate one and yeta very reasonable and logical one. The ideal of a newspaper, accordingto present-day ethics, is to print news. The daily press is no longer agolden treasury of contemporary literature, not even, perhaps, anexponent of political principles. Its primary purpose is to reportcontemporary history--to keep us informed concerning the events that aretaking place each day in the world about us. 

To this idea is added another. A newspaper must be interesting. In thesedays of many newspapers few readers are satisfied with merely beinginformed; they want to be informed in a way that interests them. Tothis demand every one connected with a newspaper office tries to cater. It is the defense of the sensational yellow journals and it is thereason for everything in the daily press. There is so much to read thatpeople will not read things that do not interest them, and the paperthat succeeds is the paper that interests the greatest number ofreaders. Circulation cannot be built up by printing uninteresting stuffthat the majority of readers are not interested in, and circulation isnecessary to success. 

This desire to interest readers is behind the whole question of newsvalues. News is primarily the account of the latest events, but, morethan that, it is the account of the latest events that interest readerswho are not connected with these events. Further than that, it is theaccount of the latest events that interest the greatest number ofreaders. Susie Brown may have sprained her ankle. The fact isabsorbingly interesting to Susie; it is even rather interesting to herfamily and friends, even to her enemies. If she is well known in thelittle town in which she lives her accident may be interesting enough tothe townspeople for the local weekly to print a complete account of it. However, the event is interesting only to people who know Susie, andafter all they do not comprise a very large number. Hence her accidenthas no news value outside the local weekly. On the other hand, had Susiesprained her ankle in some very peculiar manner, the accident might beof interest to people who do not know Susie. Suppose that she hadtripped on her gown as she was ascending the steps of the altar to bemarried. Such an accident would be very unusual, almost unheard of. People in general are interested in unusual things, and many, manyreaders would be interested in reading about Susie's unusual accidentalthough they did not know Susie or even the town in which she lives. Such a story would be the report of a late event that would interestmany people; hence it would have a certain amount of news value. Ofcourse, the reader loses sight of Susie in reading of her accident--itmight as well have been Mary Jones--but that is because Susie has nonews value in herself. That is another matter. 

=1. Classes of Readers. =--Realizing that his story must be of interestto the greatest number of people, the reporter must remember the sort ofpeople for whom he is writing. That complicates the whole matter. If hewere writing for a single class of readers he could easily give them thenews that would interest them. But he is not; he is writing for manyclasses of people, for all classes of people. And he must interest themall. He is writing for the business man in his office, for the wife inthe home, for the ignorant, for the highly educated, for the rich andthe poor, for the old and the young, for doctors, lawyers, bankers, laborers, ministers, and women. All of them buy his paper to hear thelatest news told in a way that interests them, and he has to cater toeach and to all of them. If he were simply writing for business men hewould give them many columns of financial news, but that would notinterest tired laborers. An extended account of the doings of aPresbyterian convention would not attract the great class of men withsporting inclinations, and a story of a very pretty exhibition ofscientific boxing would not appeal to the wife at home. They all buy thepaper, and they all want to be interested, and the paper must, therefore, print stories that interest at least the majority of them. That is the question of news values. The news must be the account of thelatest events that interest the greatest number of readers of allclasses. 

This search for the universally-interesting news is the reason behindthe sensational papers. Although the interests of any individual differin almost every aspect from the interests of his neighbor, there is onesort of news that interests them both, that interests every human being. That is the news that appeals to the emotions, to the heart. It is thenews that deals with human life--human nature--human interest news thepapers call it. In it every human being is interested. However trivialmay be the event, if it can be described in a way that will make thereader feel the point of view of the human beings who suffered orstruggled or died or who were made happy in the event, every other humanbeing will read it with interest. Human sympathy makes one want to feeljoy and pain from the standpoint of others. Naturally that sort of newsis always read; naturally the paper that devotes itself to such news isalways read and is always successful as far as circulation and profitsgo. The papers that have that ideal of news behind them and forsakeevery other ideal for it are called sensational papers. Whether they aregood or not is another question. 

With this idea of what news values means and the idea that news is worthwhile only when it interests the largest number of people of allclasses, we may try to look for the things that make news interesting tothe greatest number of people of all classes. The reporter must know notonly what news is, but what makes it news. He must be able to see thethings in a story that will interest the greatest number of people ofall classes. These are many and intricate. 

=2. Timeliness. =--In the first place, news must be new. A story musthave timeliness. Our readers want to know what happened to-day, foryesterday and last week are past and gone. They want to be up to theminute in their information on current events. Therefore a story that isworth printing to-day will not be worth printing to-morrow or, at most, on the day after to-morrow. Events must be chronicled just as soon asthey happen. Furthermore, the story itself must show that it is new. Itmust tell the reader at once that the event which it is chroniclinghappened to-day or last night--at least since the last edition of thepaper. That is why the reporter must never fail to put the time in theintroduction of his story. Editors grow gray-headed trying to keep upwith the swift passing of events, and they are always very careful totell their readers that the events which they are chronicling are thelatest events. That is the reason why every editor hates the word"yesterday" and tries to get "to-day" or "this morning" into the lead ofevery story. Hence, to the newspaper, everything that happened sincemidnight last night is labeled "this morning, " and everything thathappened since six o'clock yesterday afternoon is labeled "last night. "Anything before that hour must be labeled "yesterday, " but it goes in as"late yesterday afternoon, " if it possibly can. Hence the firstprinciple of news values is timeliness--news is news only because itjust happened and can be spoken of as one of the events of "to-day" orof "late yesterday. "

=3. Distance. =--Distance is another factor in news values. In spite offast trains and electric telegraphs human beings are clannish and localin their interests. They are interested mainly in things and personsthat they know, and news from outside their ken must be of unusualsignificance to attract them. They like to read about things that theyhave seen and persons that they know, because they are slow to exerttheir imaginations enough to appreciate things that they do not knowpersonally. Hence every newspaper is primarily local, even though it isa metropolitan daily, and news from a distance plays a very subordinatepart. It has been said that New York papers cannot see beyond theAlleghanies; it is equally true that most papers cannot see more than ahundred miles from the printing office, except in the case of nationalnews. Any newspaper's range of news sources goes out from the editorialroom in concentric circles. Purely personal news must come from withinthe range of the paper's general circulation, because people do not careto read purely personal news about persons whom they do not know. Othernews is limited ordinarily to the region with which the paper's readersare personally acquainted--the state, perhaps--because subscribersunconsciously wish to hear about places with which they are personallyacquainted. Any news that comes from outside this larger circle must benation-wide or very unusual in its interest. A story that may be worth acolumn in El Paso, Texas, would not be worth printing in New Yorkbecause El Paso is hardly more than a name to most New York newspaperreaders. In the same way, the biggest stories in New York are not worthanything in Texas, because Texas readers are not personally interestedin New York--they cannot say, "Yes, I know that building; I walked downthat street the other day; oh, you can't tell me anything about thesubway. " News is primarily local, and the first thing a correspondentmust learn is how to distinguish the stories that are purely local intheir interest from those that would be worth printing a hundred milesaway in a paper read by people who do not know the places or personsinvolved in the story. Colonel Smith may be a very big frog in thelittle puddle of Smith's Corners, and his doings may be big news to theweeklies all over his county, but he has to do something very unusualbefore his name is worth a line in a paper two counties away. He isnothing but a name to people who do not know him or know of him, andtherefore they are not interested in him. Every correspondent must watchfor the stories that have something more than a local interest, someelement of news in them that will carry them over the obstacle ofdistance and make them interesting to any reader. 

It would be impossible to analyze news values to the extent of tellingevery conceivable element of interest that will overcome the obstacle ofdistance. Yet there are certain elements that always make a newspaperstory interesting to any one. 

=4. Loss of life. =--One of these is the loss of human life. For somestrange reason every human being is interested in the thought of death. Just as soon as a story mentions death it is worth printing, and if ithas a number of deaths to tell about it is worth printing anywhere. Anyfire, any railroad wreck, or any other disaster in which a number ofpersons are killed or injured makes a story that is worth sendinganywhere. There seems to be a joy for the reader in the mere number offatalities. A story that can begin with "Ten people were killed, " or"Seven men met their death, " attracts a reader's interest at once. As avery natural result, and justly, too, newspapers have been broadlyaccused of exaggeration for the sake of a large number. But at presentmany papers are inclined to underestimate rather than overestimate, perhaps to avoid this accusation. In a number of instances in the pastyear, among them the Shirtwaist Factory fire in New York, the firstfigures were smaller than the official count printed later. That doesnot mean, however, that newspapers do not want stories involving loss oflife. Any story which involves a large number of fatalities will carry along distance, if for no other reason. 

=5. Big Names. =--Another element of news values is the interest inprominent people. The mere mention of a man or a woman who is knownwidely attracts attention. Although Colonel Smith of Smith's Corners hasto do something very unusual to get his name in any paper outside hiscounty, the slightest thing that President Taft does is printed in everypaper in the country. It is simply because of our interest in the manhimself. Some names give a story news value because the names are widelyknown politically or financially, some names because they are simplynotorious. But any name that is recognized at once, for any reason, gives a story news value. 

=6. Property Loss. =--Akin to man's love for any account that involveslarge loss of human life, is his love of any story that tells about ahuge loss of property. The mere figures seem to have a charm; any storythat can begin with awesome figures, like "Two million dollars, " "Onehundred automobiles, " "Ten city blocks, " has news value. Hence any storythat involves a large loss that can be expressed in figures has thepower to carry a great distance. 

=7. Unusualness. =--It is safe to say that newspaper readers areinterested in anything unusual. It does not matter whether it is athing, a person, an action, a misfortune; so long as it is strange andout of the range of ordinary lives, it is interesting. Many, if notmost, newspaper stories have nothing but the element of strangeness inthem to give them news value, but if they are sufficiently strange andunusual they may be copied all over the country. An unusual origin or anunusual rescue will give an unimportant fire great news value. And sowith every other kind of story. 

=8. Human Interest. =--Along with the element of the strange and unusual, goes the human interest element. Any story that will make us laugh ormake us cry has news value. Hundreds of magazines are issued monthlywith nothing in them but fictitious stories that are intended to arouseour emotions, and newspapers are beginning to realize that they caninterest their readers in the same way. No life is so prosaic that it isnot full of incidents that make one laugh or cry, and when thesestories can be told in a way that will make any reader feel the sameemotions, they have news value that will carry them a long distance. Obviously their success depends very largely upon the way they are told. 

=9. Personal Appeal. =--Another element that may give a story news valueis that of personal appeal or application to the reader's own dailylife. Men are primarily egoistic and selfish and nothing interests themmore than things that affect them personally. They can read complacentlyand without interest of the misfortunes and joys of others, but just assoon as anything affects their own daily lives, even a little, they wantto hear about it. Perhaps the price of butter has gone up a few cents orthe gas company has reduced its rates from eighty cents toseventy-seven. Every reader is interested at once, for the news affectshis own daily life. Sometimes this personal appeal is due merely to thereader's familiarity with the persons or places mentioned in the story;sometimes it is due to the story's application to his business life, hissocial or religious activities, or to any phase of his daily existence. That is the reason why political news interests every one, for we allfeel that the management of the government has an influence on our ownlives. The story of any political maneuver--especially if it is onethat may be looked upon as bad or good--carries farther than any otherstory. Show that your story tells of something that has even theslightest effect on the lives of a large number of people and it needsno other element to give it news value. 

=10. Local Reasons. =--These factors and many others give news stories anews value that will carry them a long distance and make theminteresting in communities far from their source. Many local reasons mayenhance the value of a story for local papers. A paper's policy or somecampaign that it is waging may give an otherwise unimportant event atremendous significance. If an unimportant person is slightly injuredwhile leaving a trolley car the story is hardly worth a line of type. But if such an item should come to a newspaper while it is carrying on acampaign against the local street railway company, the story wouldprobably be written and printed in great detail. Any slight occurrencethat may be in line with a paper's political beliefs would receive anamount of space far out of proportion with its ordinary news worth. Newsvalue is a very changeable and indefinite thing, and there are countlessreasons why any given story should be of interest to a large number ofreaders. And the possibility of interesting a large number of readers isthe basis of news value. 

=11. The Feature. =--In connection with the study of news values thequestion of feature is important. In editorial offices one is constantlyhearing the word "feature, " and reporters are constantly admonished to"play up the feature" of their stories. Feature is the word that editorsuse to signify the essence of news value. Every story that is printed isprinted because of some fact in it that makes it interesting--gives itnews value. The element in the story that makes it interesting and worthprinting is the feature. The feature may be some prominent name, a largelist of fatalities, a significant amount of property destroyed, ormerely the unusualness of the incident. This feature is the element thatmakes the story news; therefore it is used to attract attention to thestory. Every newspaper story displays like a placard in its headlinesthe reason why it was printed--the element in it that makes itinteresting. "Playing up the feature" is simply the act of bringing thisfeature to the front so that it will attract attention to the story. Just how this is done we shall see later. But when, as a reporter, youare looking for a feature to play up in your lead, remember that thefeature to be played up is the thing in the story that gives the storynews value. And few stories have more than one claim to news value, morethan one feature. 

III

NEWSPAPER TERMS

The newspaper vernacular that is used in the editorial and press roomsof any daily paper is a curious mixture of literary abbreviations andtechnical printing terms. It is the result of the strange mingling ofthe literary trade of writing with the mechanical trade of setting type. For that reason a green reporter has difficulty in understanding theinstructions that he receives until he has been in the office longenough to learn the office slang. It would be impossible to list all ofthe expressions that might be heard in one day, but a knowledge of thecommonest words will enable a reporter to get the drift of his editor'sinstructions. 

When a young man secures a position as reporter for a newspaper hebegins as a _cub reporter_ and is usually said to be on the _staff_ ofhis paper. His sphere of activity is confined to the _editorial_ room, where the news is written; his relations with the _business office_, where advertising, circulation, and other business matters are handled, consists of the weekly duty of drawing his pay. His chief enemies are inthe _printing office_ where his literary efforts are _set up_ in typeand printed. His superiors are called _editors_ and exist in varyingnumbers, depending upon the size of his paper. The man who directs thereporters is usually called the _city editor_, or perhaps the _day_ or_night city editor_; above him there are managing editors and otherpersons in authority with whom the cub is not concerned; and the favoredmortals who enjoy a room by themselves and write nothing but editorialsare called editors or _editorial writers_. There may also be a_telegraph_ editor, a _sporting_ editor, a _Sunday_ editor, and manyother editors; or if the paper is small and poor all of these editorsmay be condensed into one very busy man. On a city daily of average sizethere are _desk men_, or _copyreaders_, who work under editorialdirection but feel superior to the reporter because they correct hisliterary efforts. 

The reporter's work consists of gathering and writing news. In theoffice this is called _covering_ and writing _stories_. He is ordinarilyput on a _beat_, or _run_; this is simply a daily route or round of newssources which he follows as regularly as a policeman walks his beat. Thereporter's work on a special story outside his beat is called an_assignment_. Any hint that he may receive concerning a bit of news iscalled a _tip_. Any bit of news that he secures to the exclusion of hispaper's rivals is called a _beat_, or a _scoop_. 

Everything that is written for the paper, whether it be a two-linepersonal item or a two-column report, is called a _story_, or a _yarn_, and from the time the story is written until it appears in the printedpaper it is called _copy_. If the story is well written and needs fewcorrections it is called _clean copy_. After the story is written it isturned over to the copyreader to be _edited_. The copyreader corrects itand writes the headlines or _heads_; then he sends it to the composingroom to be set in type by the _compositor_. The story itself is usuallyset up on a linotype machine and the heads are set up by hand. For thesake of keeping the two parts of the copy together the reporter or thecopyreader ordinarily gives the story a name, such as "Fire No. 2"; thebit of lead on which the name is printed is called a _slug_ and thestory is said to be _slugged_. If at any time in its journey from thereporter's pencil to the printed page, the editor decides not to printthe story, he _kills_ it; otherwise he _runs_ it, or allows it to gointo the paper. When the story is in type, an impression, or _proof_, istaken of it, and this proof, still called copy, comes back to thecopyreader or the proofreader for the correction of typographicalerrors. The gathering together of all of the day's stories into the formof the final printed page is called _making up_ the paper; this isusually done by some one of the editors. In like manner, the finishedaspect of the paper is called the _make-up_. 

Some stories are said to be _big stories_ because of unusual news value. When any news comes unexpectedly it is said to _break_; and when anystory comes in beforehand and must be held over, it is said to be_released_ on the day on which it may be printed. The first paragraph ofany story is called the _lead_ (pronounced "leed"); the word _lead_ isalso used to designate several introductory paragraphs that are tackedon at the beginning of a long story, which may be of the nature of a_running story_ (as the running story of a football game), or may bemade up of several parts, written by one or more reporters. In general, that part of a story which presents the gist or summary of the entirestory at the beginning is called the _lead_. The most interesting thingin the story, the part that gives it news value, is called the_feature_, and _playing up the feature_ consists in telling the mostinteresting thing in the first line of the lead or in the headline. Anentire story is said to be _played up_ if it is given a prominent placein the paper. A _feature story_ is either a story that is thus playedup or a story that is written for some other reason than news value, such as human interest. When a story is rewritten to give a new interestto old facts it is called a _rewrite story_; when it is rewritten toinclude new facts or developments, it is called a _follow-up_, _second-day_, or _follow story_. 

Because of the close relation between the editorial room and theprinting office many printing terms are commonly heard about theeditorial room. All copy is measured by the _column_ and by the_stickful_. A column is usually a little less than 1, 500 words and astickful is the amount of type that can be set in a compositor's_stick_, the metal frame used in setting type by hand--about two inchesor 100 words. A bit of copy that is set up with a border or a row ofstars about it is said to be _boxed_. Whenever copy is set with extraspace between the lines it is said to be _leaded_ (pronounced"leded")--the name is taken from the piece of lead that is placedbetween the lines of type. The reporter must gradually learn the namesof the various kinds of type and the various proofreader's signs thatare used to indicate the way in which the type is to be set, for thewhole work of writing the news is governed and limited by the mechanicalpossibilities of the printing office. The commonest signs used by theproofreader or the copyreader, together with instructions for preparingcopy, are given in the Style Book at the end of this volume. (A completelist of proofreader's signs can be found in the back of any largedictionary. ) _Style_ is a word which editors use to cover a multitude ofrules, arbitrary or otherwise, concerning capitalization, punctuation, abbreviation, etc. A paper that uses many capital letters is said tofollow an _up_ style, and a paper that uses small letters instead ofcapitals whenever there is a choice is said to follow a _down_ style. Every newspaper has its own style and usually prints its rules in aStyle Book; the Style Book given in this volume has been compiled frommany representative newspaper style books. It sets forth an averagestyle and the beginner is advised to follow it closely in his practicewriting--for, as editors say, "uniformity is better than a strictfollowing of style. "

IV

THE NEWS STORY FORM

When we come to the writing of the news we find that there are manysorts of stories that must be written. In the newspaper office they arecalled simply stories without distinction. For the purpose of study theymay be classified to some extent, but this classification must not betaken as hard and fast. The commonest kind of story is the simple newsstory. Practically all newspaper reports are news stories, but asdistinguished from other kinds of reports the simple news story is thereport of some late event or occurrence. It is usually concerned withunexpected news, and is the commonest kind of story in any newspaper. Itis to be distinguished from reports of speeches, interview stories, court reports, social news, dramatic news, sporting news, human-intereststories, and all the rest. The distinction is largely one of form anddoes not exist to any great extent in a newspaper office where allstories are simply "stories. "

The simple news story is probably the most variable part of a newspaper. Given the same facts, each individual reporter will write the story inhis individual way and each editor will change it to suit his individualtaste. No two newspapers have exactly the same ideal form of news storyand no newspaper is able to live up to its individual ideal in eachstory. 

But there are general tendencies. Certain things are true of all newsstories; whether the story be the baldest recital of facts or the mostsensational featuring of an imaginary thrill in a commonplace happening, certain characteristics are always present. And these characteristicscan always be traced to one cause--the effort to catch and hold thereader's interest. When a busy American glances over his newspaper whilehe sips his breakfast coffee or while he clings to a strap on the way tohis office, he reads only the stories that catch his interest--and hereads down the column in any one story only so long as his interest ismaintained. Hence the ideal news story is one which will catch thereader's attention by its beginning and hold his interest to the veryend. This is the principle of all newspaper writing. 

The interest depends, in a large measure, on the way the facts arepresented. True, certain facts are in themselves more interesting to acasual reader than others, but just as truly other less interestingfacts may be made as interesting through the reporter's skill. The mostinteresting of stories may lose its interest if poorly presented, andfacts of the most commonplace nature may be made attractive enough tohold the reader to the last word. The aim of every reporter and of everyeditor is to make every story so attractive and interesting that themost casual reader cannot resist reading it. 

In the old days news stories were written in the logical order of eventsjust like any other narrative, but constant change has brought about anew form, as different and individual as any other form of expression. Unlike any other imaginable piece of writing, the news story disclosesits most interesting facts first. It does not lead the reader up to astartling bit of news by a tantalizing suspense in an effort to build upa surprise for him; it tells its most thrilling content first and truststo his interest to lead him on through the details that should logicallyprecede the real news. Therefore every editor admonishes his reporters"to give the gist of the news first and the details later. "

There are other reasons for this peculiar reversal of the logical orderof narrative. Few readers have time to read the whole of every story, and yet they want to get the news--in the shortest possible time. Therefore the newspaper very kindly tells the important part of eachstory at the beginning. Then if the reader cares to hear the details hecan read the rest of the story; but he gets the news, anyway. Again, ifthe exigencies of making up the stories into a paper of mechanicallylimited space require that a story be cut down, the editor may slash offa paragraph or two at the end without depriving the story of itsinterest. Imagine the difficulty of cutting down a story that is told inits logical order! If the real news of the story were in the lastparagraph it would go in the slashing, and what would be left? Whereas, if the gist of the story comes first the editor may run any number ofparagraphs or even the first paragraph alone and still have a completestory. 

The arrangement of news stories in American newspapers is thus a verynatural one, resulting from the exigencies of the business. Just how tofit every story to this arrangement is a difficult task. However, thereare certain rules that the reporter may apply to each story, and theseare very simple. 

In the first place, almost every story has a feature--there is some onething in it that is out of the ordinary, something that gives itinterest and news value beyond the interest in the incident behind it. No two stories have the same interesting features; if they had, onlyone of them would be worth printing and that would be the first. Thisextraordinary feature the reporter must see at once. If a building burnshe must see quickly what incident in the occurrence will be of interestto readers who are reading of many fires every day. If John Smith fallsoff a street car the reporter must discover some interesting fact inconnection with Mr. Smith's misfortune that will be new and attractiveto readers who do not know John and are bored with accounts of otherSmiths' accidents. The accident itself may be interesting, but the partof the accident that is out of the ordinary--the thing that gives theaccident news value--is the feature of the story, and the reporter musttell it first. 

Thoroughly determined to tell the most interesting part, the gist, ofhis story in the first paragraph, the reporter must remember that thereare certain other things about the incident that the reader wants toknow just as quickly. There are certain questions which arise in thereader's mind when the occurrence is suggested, and these questions mustbe answered as quickly as they are asked. The questions usually take theform of _when?_ _where?_ _what?_ _who?_ _how?_ _why?_ If a man falls offthe street car we are eager to know at once who he was, although weprobably do not know him, anyway; where it happened; when it happened;how he fell; and why he fell. If there is a fire we immediately ask whatburned; where it was; when it burned; how it burned; and what caused itto burn. And the reporter must answer these questions with the samebreath that tells us that a man fell off the car or that there was anyfire at all. 

The effort to answer these questions at once has led to the peculiarform of introduction characteristic of every newspaper story. Newspaperpeople call it the lead. It is really nothing but the statement of thebriefest possible answers to all these questions in one sentence or oneshort paragraph. It tells the whole story in its baldest aspects andaims to satisfy the reader who wants only the gist of the story and doesnot care for the details. When all his questions have been answered inone breath he is ready to read the details one at a time, but he won'tbe satisfied if he must read all about how the fire was discoveredbefore he is told what building burned, when it burned, etc. Forexample:

 | Fire of unknown origin caused the | |practical destruction of the famous old | |"Crow's Nest, " at Tenth and Cedar | |streets, perhaps the best known and | |oldest landmark in the Second ward, | |yesterday afternoon. --_Milwaukee Free | |Press. _ |

This is the lead of an ordinary news story--a newspaper report of afire. The lead begins with "Fire" because the story has no unusualfeature--no element in it that is more interesting than the fact thatthere was a fire. The reporter considers "Fire" the most important partof his story and begins with it. As soon as we read the word "Fire" weask, "When?"--"Where?"--"What?"--"Why?"--"How?" The reporter answers usin the same sentence with his announcement, "yesterday afternoon"--"atTenth and Cedar Streets"--"the famous old 'Crow's Nest, ' perhaps thebest known and oldest landmark in the Second ward"--"unknown origin. "_How_ is not worth answering, in this case, beyond the statement thatthe destruction was practically complete. Thus the reporter has told ushis bit of news and answered our most obvious questions about it at thevery beginning of his story--in one sentence. According to newspaperrules this is a good lead. The order of the answers will be consideredlater. For the present we are concerned only with the facts that thelead must contain. 

V

THE SIMPLE FIRE STORY

The simplest news story is the story which has no feature--which has nofact in it more important than the incident which it reports--e. G. , thefire at the end of the last chapter. If we recall the various elementsof news value we note that any incident may be given greater news valueby the presence of some unusual or interesting feature--a great loss oflife, an unusual time, a strikingly large loss of property, or simply awell-known name. Such a story is called a story with a feature, becauseits interest depends not so much on the incident itself as upon theunusual feature within the incident. On the other hand, many newsstories do not have features. Many stories are worth printing simplybecause of the incident which they report, without any unusual featurewithin them. For example, a building may burn with no loss of life, nogreat loss of property, and no striking occurrence in connection withthe burning. Such a fire is worth reporting, but there is no fact inthe story more interesting than the fact that there was a fire; thestory has no feature. 

The leads of these two kinds of stories are different. When a story hasa feature it is customary to play up that feature in the first line ofthe lead. If the story has no feature, is simply the record of acommonplace event, the lead merely announces the incident and answersthe reader's questions about it. 

The commonest of featureless stories is the simple fire story in whichnothing out of the ordinary happens, no one is killed, no strikingrescues take place, and no tremendous amount of property is destroyed. This may be taken as typical of all featureless stories. The reporter, in writing a report of such a fire, merely answers in the lead thequestions _when_, _where_, _what_, _why_, and perhaps _how_, that thereader asks concerning the fire. The most striking part of the story isthat there was a fire; hence the story begins with "Fire. " For example:

 | Fire today wrecked the top of the | |six-story warehouse at 393 to 395 | |Washington street, used by the United | |States army as a medical supply | |store-room for the Department of the | |East. Capt. Edwin Wolf, who is in charge | |of the warehouse, says the loss on tents, | |blankets, cots, and other bedding stored | |on the floors of the building was | |large. --_New York Mail. _ |

As one reads down through the rest of the story he finds nothing morestriking than the fact that there was a fire. Therefore there is noparticular feature. No one was killed; no one was injured; the loss wasnot extraordinary for a New York fire--nothing in the story is ofgreater interest than the mere fact that there was a fire. Hence thestory begins with the word "Fire. " Notice that it does not begin "Afire" or "The fire"--for the simple reason that the word _fire_ does notneed an article before it. The editor will also tell you that it is notconsidered good to begin a story with an article, for the beginning isthe most important part of a story and it is foolish to waste thatadvantageous place on unimportant words. 

The first word tells the reader that there has been a fire. Heimmediately asks where?--what burned?--when?--how much was lost? And thereporter proceeds to answer his questions in their order of importance. The reporter who wrote this story apparently thought that the time wasof greatest importance and slipped it in at once--"today. " He might justas well have left the time until the end of the sentence because it isnot of very great interest. He considers the question "_Where_" of nextimportance, and answers with "the top of the six-story warehouse at 393to 395 Washington Street. " The question "what?" he answers with aclause, "used by the United States army as a medical supply store-roomfor the Department of the East. " He does not try to answer the question"_why_?" because, as the rest of the story tells us, no one knew exactlywhat caused the fire. And as for the "_How_?" there is nothingextraordinary in the way that it burned beyond the fact that it burned. Thus, in one sentence, he has answered all four questions about thefire, except a little query concerning the amount of the loss. That heconsiders worth a separate sentence of details. 

This is not a perfect lead. Many editors would consider it faulty, butit illustrates one way of writing the lead of a featureless fire story. Obviously there are faults; for instance, the time is given an undueamount of emphasis and the cause is omitted. 

Suppose that we construct another lead from the same story--a lead whichwould be more in accordance with the logic of newspaper writing. Weshall begin with the word "fire, " but after it we shall slip in a littlemention of the cause since to the reader not directly acquainted withthe property that point is always of the greatest importance. Then weshall tell where the fire was and after that what was burned. And lastof all we shall give the time since that is of least importance to theaverage reader. This would be the result:

 | Fire of unknown origin wrecked the top | |of the six-story warehouse at 393-395 | |Washington street, used by the United | |States army as a medical supply | |store-room for the Department of the | |East, destroying a large number of tents, | |blankets, cots, and other bedding, today. |

We might as well have put the _what_ before the _where_ or altered thelead in any other way. But we would always begin with the word "fire"and answer all the questions that the reader might ask--in one shortsimple sentence. This constitutes our lead. We have told the casualreader what he wants to know about the fire. We give him more detailsabout the fire if he wants to read them, but after we have stated thecase clearly in the lead we no longer reckon his time so carefully andallow ourselves some latitude in the telling. After the lead we beginthe story from the beginning and tell it in its logical order from startto finish, always bearing in mind that the editor may chop off aparagraph or two at the end. 

Hence the second paragraph of the story as it appeared in _The Mail_begins:

 | John Smith, a man employed in the | |stock-room on the sixth floor, saw smoke | |rolling out of one corner and notified | |other employees in the building, while | |Patrolman Hogan turned in an alarm. |

We are back at the beginning now and telling things as they came. Thenext paragraph of the story tells us how they fought the fire, and thethird tells us how they finally brought it under control. The lastparagraph of the story reads:

 | There are three such warehouses in the | |country, one at St. Louis, another at San | |Francisco, but the one in this city is by | |far the largest. In it are kept supplies | |for the Departments of the East, Gulf, | |Cuba, Porto Rico, and the Philippines. |

The editor of _The Mail_ had plenty of space that day and saw fit to runthis last paragraph, but we should not have lost much had he chopped itoff. Perhaps the reporter's copy contained still another paragraphtelling about Captain Wolf, but that did not pass the editorial pencil. Even more of the story might have been slashed without depriving us ofmuch of the interesting news. 

Judging from the above story a newspaper account is divided into twoseparate and independent parts: the lead and the detailed account. Thelead is written for the casual reader and contains all the necessaryfacts about the fire; it may stand alone and constitute a story initself. The detailed account is written for the reader who wants to hearmore about the incident, and is written in the logical order ofevents--with an eye to the danger of the editor's pencil threatening thelast paragraphs. In other words, the reporter tells his story briefly inone paragraph and then goes back and tells it all over again in a moredetailed way. If the story is of sufficient importance the secondtelling may not be sufficient and he may go back a third time to thebeginning and tell it again with still greater detail--but that isanother matter. For the present we shall consider only the lead and thefirst detailed account. 

There are certain other points to be noticed in the report of afeatureless fire. Under no condition should it begin with the time. Why?Because, unless the time is of extreme interest, no one caresparticularly when the fire occurred. And if the time is of greatinterest--as, for instance, if a church should burn while thecongregation is in it--then the time becomes a feature to be played upand the story is no longer a featureless story. We are now consideringstories in which nothing is of greater interest than the mere fact thatthere was a fire. 

The same is true of the location. Who cares what street the fire was onuntil he knows more about the fire? If the location were of suchsignificant importance as to be played up, the story would no longer bea featureless story. 

The paragraphing is also important. Since the lead is in itself aseparate part of the story it should always be paragraphed separately. Do not let the beginning of the detailed account lap over into the lead, and do not introduce into the first paragraph any facts which are notabsolutely a part of the lead--that is, facts that are absolutelyessential to a general knowledge of the fire. When once you begin totell the story in detail tell it logically and paragraph it logically. Do not tell us that John Smith discovered the fire and that the loss is$500 in the same paragraph. Take up each point separately and treat itfully before you leave it--then begin a new paragraph for the next item. 

 * * * * *

To take a hypothetical case, suppose that misfortune visits the home ofJohn H. Jones, who lives at 79 Liberty Street. A defective flue sets hishouse on fire and it burns to the ground. By inquiry we find that thehouse is worth about $4, 000 and is fully insured. 

There is nothing particularly striking about the story. We are sorry forMr. Jones, but many houses worth $4, 000 are set on fire by poorchimneys and many more houses burn down. No one was hurt, no one waskilled; the most striking part of it all is that there was a fire. Wewould begin with the word "Fire. " Perhaps our readers would be mostinterested in the cause of the fire and we shall tell them that first. Then we shall tell them what burned, when it burned, and where it stood. There is nothing else that a casual reader would want to know and thelead would read:

 | Fire starting in a defective chimney | |destroyed the residence of John H. Jones, | |79 Liberty street, at midnight last | |night, causing a loss of $4, 000, covered | |by insurance. |

Our casual reader is satisfied. For the reader who wishes to know moreabout the fire we add a paragraph or two of detail. First, we may tellhim who discovered the fire; then how the Jones family managed toescape; and after that how the fire was extinguished, and we might slipin a paragraph explaining just what trouble in the chimney made a firepossible. The editor may chop off any number of paragraphs or cut thestory down to the lead, and yet our readers will get the facts and knowjust exactly what was the reason for the fire bell and the red sky atmidnight last night. 

VI

THE FEATURE FIRE STORY

A fire story without a feature begins with "Fire" because there isnothing in the story more interesting than the fact that there has beena fire. Such was the case in the burning of John Jones's house in thelast chapter. But just as soon as any part of the story becomes moreinteresting than the fact that there was a fire, the story is no longerfeatureless--it is a fire story with a feature, or, for the purposes ofour study, _a feature fire story_. This feature may be related to thestory in one of two ways. In the first place, the answer to some one ofthe reader's questions may be the feature--e. G. , the answer to _when_, _where_, _what_, _how_, _why_, _who_. On the other hand, the feature maybe in some unexpected attendant circumstance that the reader would notthink of; for instance, loss of life, an interesting rescue, orsomething of that sort. Such a distinction is entirely arbitrary andwould not be considered in a newspaper office, but it will make thematter simpler for the purposes of study. 

A. FEATURES IN ANSWERS TO READER'S CUSTOMARY QUESTIONS

(_When_, _Where_, _What_, _How_, _Why_, _Who_). 

Suppose that John Jones's house did not burn in the usual way--supposethat there is some striking incident in the story that makes itdifferent from other fire stories. The story has a feature. Perhaps theanswer to some one of the reader's customary questions is moreinteresting than the answers to the others--so much more interestingthat it supersedes even the fact that there was a fire. Then it would befoolish to begin with the mere word "fire" when we have something moreinteresting to tell. The fire takes a second place and we begin with theinteresting fact that supersedes it. For the present we shall considerthat this interesting fact is the answer to one of the questions thatthe reader always asks; for instance, why the house burned or when itburned. 

=1. Why. =--Perhaps Mr. Jones's house was set on fire in a very unusualway. There was a little party in session at the Jones's and some onedecided to take a flash-light picture. The flash-light set fire to alace curtain and before any one could stop it the house was afire. Fewfires begin in that way, and our readers would be very interested inhearing about it. The story has a feature in the answer to the reader's_Why?_ And so we would begin our lead in this way:

 | A flashlight setting fire to a lace | |curtain started a fire which destroyed | |the residence of John H. Jones, 79 | |Liberty street, at 11 o'clock last night | |and caused a loss of $4, 000. |

In this way the feature is played up at the beginning of the sentence, and yet the rest of the reader's questions are answered in the samesentence and he knows a great deal about the fire. Or, leaving Mr. Jonesto his fate, we may give another example of an unusual cause taken froma newspaper. This was a big fire, and yet the unusual cause was ofgreater interest than the fire itself or the amount of propertydestroyed:

 | A tiny "joss stick, " the lighted end of| |which was no larger than a pinhead, is | |thought to have been responsible for a | |fire that destroyed the White City | |Amusement Park at Broad Ripple last | |night. The loss to the amusement company | |is $161, 000. --_Indianapolis News. _ |

=2. Where. =--To return to Mr. Jones, there may have been some otherincident in the burning of his house aside from the cause that was ofexceptional interest. Let us say that his house stood in a part of thetown where a fire was to be feared. Perhaps it stood within twenty feetof the new First Congregational Church. The burning of Jones's housewould then be insignificant in comparison to the danger to the costlyedifice beside it, and our readers would be more interested in an itemconcerning their church. The answer to _Where?_ is more interesting thanthe fire itself. Hence we would bury, so to speak, Mr. Jones'smisfortune behind the greater danger, and the story would read:

 | Fire endangered the new First | |Congregational Church on Liberty street, | |erected at a cost of $100, 000, when the | |home of J. H. Jones, in the rear of the | |church, was destroyed at midnight last | |night. |

Or:

 | The First Congregational Church, | |recently built at a cost of $100, 000, was| |seriously threatened by a fire which | |destroyed the residence of John H. Jones, | |78 Liberty street, within twenty feet of | |the church, at midnight last night. |

Turning again to the daily papers, we can find many fire stories inwhich the location of the burned structure is important enough to takethe first line of the lead. Here is one:

 | The Plaza Hotel had a few uncomfortable| |moments last night when flames from a | |building adjoining at 22 West Fifty-ninth| |street were shooting up as high as the | |tenth story of the hotel and the fire | |apparatus which responded to the delayed | |alarm was looking for the blaze several | |blocks away. --_New York Sun. _ |

=3. When. =--Sometimes the time of the fire is very interesting. John H. Jones's house may have caught fire from a very insignificant thing andits location may have been unimportant, but the fire may have come at anunusual time. Perhaps Mr. Jones's daughter was being married at a quiethome wedding in her father's house and in the midst of the ceremony theroof of the house burst into flames. The unusual time would beinteresting; the answer to _When?_ would be the feature. We might writethe lead thus:

 | During the wedding of Miss Mary Jones | |at the home of her father, John H. Jones, | |78 Liberty street, last night, the house | |suddenly burst into flames and the bridal| |party was compelled to flee into the | |street. |

Or:

 | Fire interrupted the wedding of Miss | |Mary Jones at her father's home, 78 | |Liberty street, last night, when the | |house caught fire from a defective | |chimney during the ceremony. |

The daily papers furnish many illustrations of fires at unusualtimes--here is one:

 |When the snowstorm was at its height | |early this morning, a three-story brick | |building at Nos. 4410-18 Third Avenue, | |Brooklyn, caught fire, and the flames | |spread rapidly to an adjoining tenement, | |sending a small crowd of shivering | |tenants into the icy street. --_New York | |Post. _ |

=4. What. =--(_a_) _The Burned Building. _--Many fire stories have theirfeature in the answer to the reader's _What?_ Not infrequently thebuilding itself is of great importance. Naturally "The residence of JohnH. Jones" would not make a good beginning, if John Jones is not wellknown, because people would be more interested in reading about a merefire than in reading about the residence of John H. Jones, whom they donot know. For it must be remembered that it is the first line thatcatches the reader's eye and the interest or lack of interest in thefirst line determines whether or not the story is to be read. Now, suppose that a building that is very well known burns--the City Hall, the Albany State House, the Herald Square Theater--the mere mention ofthe building will attract the reader's attention. Therefore the reporterbegins with the answer to _What?_ the name of the building, as in thefollowing cases:

 | GLENS FALLS, N. Y. , Aug. 17. --The | |Kaatskill House, for many years a popular| |Lake George resort, was completely | |destroyed by fire this forenoon. --_New | |York Times. _ |

 | The First M. E. Church of Chelsea, | |familiarly known as the Cary avenue | |church, was damaged last night to the | |amount of $7, 000 by fire. --_Boston | |Herald. _ |

(_b_) _The Amount of Property Destroyed. _--The answer to _What burned?_is not necessarily a building, for the building itself may not be worthfeaturing. The contents of the building may be more interesting, especially if the amount of property destroyed can be put in strikingterms, such as $2, 000, 000 worth of property, or two thousand chickens, or fifty-three automobiles, or 7, 000 gallons of whisky. These figuresprinted at the beginning of the first paragraph catch the reader's eye, thus:

 | Five automobiles, valued at $5, 800, and| |property amounting to $6, 200 were | |destroyed last evening when fire broke in| |the repair shop of the G. W. Browne Motor| |company, 228-232 Wisconsin street, near | |the North-Western station. --_Milwaukee | |Sentinel. _ |

=5. How. =--Very rarely the manner in which a fire burns is quite uniqueand deserves featuring. It is inconceivable that John Jones's housecould burn in any very unusual way--"with many explosions, " "with aglare of flames that aroused the whole city, " "with vast clouds of oilysmoke"--but some fires do burn in some such a way and are interestingonly for the way they burned. The following story begins with the answerto _How?_ although the manner might be described more explicitly:

 | Stubborn fires have been fought in the | |past, but one of the hardest blazes to | |conquer that the local department ever | |contended with gutted the plant of N. | |Drucker & Co. , manufacturers of trunks | |and valises, at the northwest corner of | |Ninth and Broadway, last | |night. --_Cincinnati Commercial Tribune. _ |

=6. Who. =--Just as it would be foolish to begin with "the residence ofJohn Jones, " since the building is not well known, it would not beadvisable to begin with John Jones's name, no matter what part heplayed. John Jones is not well known and so to the newspaper he is justa man and is treated impersonally regardless of what he does or whathappens to him. Our interest in him is entirely impersonal, and all wewant to know about him is what he has done or what has happened to him. Therefore few reporters would begin a story with John Jones's name. However, let some man who is well known do or suffer the slightest thingand his name immediately lends interest to the story--and thereforecommands first place in the introduction. If John D. Rockefeller shouldeven witness a fire, or if President Taft should be in the slightest wayconnected with a fire, the mere fire story would shrink intosignificance behind the name. And so, very often it is advisable tobegin a fire story with a name, if the name is of sufficient prominence. It is not necessary that the well-known man's property be destroyed oreven endangered for his name to have the first place in the firstsentence of the lead; if the well-known man has anything whatever to dowith the fire his name should be featured because to the average readerthe interest in his name overshadows any interest in the fire. In thisexample, the name overshadows a striking loss of property and the storybegins with the answer to _Who?_

 | NEW YORK, Nov. 6. --While Clendenin J. | |Ryan, son of Thomas F. Ryan, the traction| |magnate, and a band of volunteer fire | |fighters--many of them | |millionaires--fought a blaze which | |started in the garage of young Ryan's | |country estate near Suffern, N. Y. , early| |in the morning, three valuable | |automobiles, seven thoroughbred horses | |and several outbuildings were totally | |destroyed. --_Milwaukee Sentinel. _ |

It will be seen that in each of the above feature fire stories someincident in the fire, or connected with the fire, overshadows the merefact that there was a fire and makes it advisable to begin the story ofthe fire with the fact or incident of unusual interest. Furthermore, ineach of these stories the unusual feature in the story is a directanswer to one of the reader's questions--_when?_ _where?_ _how?_ _what?__why?_ _who?_ In other words, the reporter in answering these questions, as he must in the lead of every story, finds the answer to one questionso much more interesting than the answer to any of the other questionsthat he puts it first. In every fire story, however, the feature is notso easily discovered. 

B. FEATURES IN UNEXPECTED ATTENDANT CIRCUMSTANCES

There are other things in the day's fire stories, besides the answers tothe reader's questions, that may overshadow the rest of the story anddeserve to be featured. Very often there are unexpected attendantcircumstances occurring simultaneously with the fire or resulting fromthe fire to command our interest. Perhaps a number of people are killedor injured; then we want to know about them first, and the reporterneglects to answer our questions for the moment while he tells us thestartling attendant circumstances that we had not expected. Even so, while giving first place to the feature, he does not forget ourquestions but answers them in the same sentence. Hence the introductionof a fire story with significant attendant circumstances begins with thestartling fact resulting from the fire and then goes on to answer thereader's questions--in the same sentence. 

This is not so difficult as it may sound. Suppose that when John Jones'shouse burns there is a stiff breeze blowing and the chances are that allthe other houses in the block will go with it. All of his neighborsbecome frightened and work with feverish haste to move their householdgoods out into the street. In the end the fire department succeeds inconfining the fire to Mr. Jones's house and his neighbors promptly carrytheir chattels back indoors thanking the god of good luck. Now the merefact that John Jones's house burned down is rather insignificant besidethe fact that a dozen families were driven from their homes by the fire. Therefore the reporter would begin thus:

 | Twelve families were driven from their | |homes by a fire which destroyed the | |residence of John H. Jones, 78 Liberty | |street, at 11 o'clock last night. The | |fire was at length kept from spreading | |and the neighboring residences were | |reoccupied. |

Or to take an incident from the daily press in which the neighbors werenot so fortunate; although they might have entirely lost their homes:

 | Twenty-two families in the six-story | |tenement at 147 Orchard street were | |routed out of the house twice early today| |by fires which caused a great deal of | |smoke, but little real damage. --_New York| |Mail. _ |

=1. Death. =--(a) _Number of Dead. _--The most usual attendantcircumstances that will come to our notice is death in the fire. Let ussay that Mr. Jones's three children were alone in the house and burnedto death. Their death would be of more interest to us than the burningof their father's house--and our story would necessarily begin in thisway:

 | Three children were burned to death in | |a fire which destroyed the home of their | |father, John H. Jones, 78 Liberty street, | |last night. |

So common is death in connection with fire that almost every day's papercontains one or more stories beginning "Ten persons were cremated----"or "Four firemen were killed----" And in every case the loss of humanlife is considered of greater importance than any other incident in thestory, and the number of dead always takes precedence over many anotherstartling feature. Here are a few examples:

 | JOHNSTOWN, Pa. , Jan. 18. --Seven men | |were cremated in a fire that burned to | |the ground three double houses near | |Berlin, Somerset County, early this | |morning. --_New York Sun. _ |

 | Three children of Mr. And Mrs. Bernard | |Lindberg, 3328 Nineteenth avenue south, | |were cremated in a fire which destroyed | |their home shortly after 12 o'clock | |yesterday. The children had been left | |alone in the house, shut up in their | |bedroom, etc. --_St. Paul Pioneer Press. _ |

 | One fireman was killed, another fireman| |and a woman were injured and eight people| |escaped death by a narrow margin Saturday| |night in a fire which destroyed the, | |etc. --_Milwaukee Sentinel. _ |

 | NEW YORK, March 27. --One hundred and | |forty-one persons are dead as a result | |of the fire which on Saturday afternoon | |swept the three upper floors of the | |factory loft building at the northwest | |corner of Washington place and Greene | |street. More than three-quarters of this | |number are women and girls, who were | |employed in the Triangle Shirt Waist | |factory, where the fire | |originated. --_Boston Transcript. _ |

(b) _List of Dead. _--When the number of dead or injured reaches any verysignificant figure it is customary to make a table of dead and injured. This table is usually set into the story close after the lead, but veryoften the list is put in a "box" and slipped in above the story. Inwriting the story, however, the reporter disregards the table and beginshis lead as if there were no table: e. G. , "Twelve firemen were killedand fourteen injured in a fire----" The list usually gives the name, address (or some other identification), and the nature of the injury, thus:

 | =Injured Firemen:= | | | |Capt. Frank Makal, Engine Co. No. 4, | |cut by glass. | | | |Acting Captain W. E. Brown, fire boat | |No. 23, cut by glass. | | | |Peter Ryan, No. 15, flying | |glass. --_Milwaukee Free Press. _ |

Or:

 | =The Dead:= | | | |Mrs. Charles Smith, 14 W. Gorham | |street. | | | |John Johnson, 1193 Chatham street. | | | | =The Injured:= | | | |Thomas Green, 1111 Grand street; face | |cut by flying glass. | | | |James Brown, 176 Orchard avenue; | |internal injuries; may die. |

(c) _Manner of Death. _--A number of fatalities at the beginning alwaysattracts attention. Not infrequently the manner or the cause, especiallyin the case of a single death, is worth the first place in the lead--notas "One man killed----" but as "Crushed beneath a falling wall, a manwas killed. " If a man burns to death in a very unusual way, or for anunusual reason, we are more interested in the way he was burned, or thereason that he burned, than in the mere fact that he was burned todeath. The first line then tells us how or why he was burned. Thus:

 | To save his money, which he hoped would| |some day raise him from the rank of a | |laborer to that of a prosperous merchant, | |Hing Lee, a Chinese laundryman, ran back | |into his burning laundry at 3031 Nicollet| |avenue today, after he was once safe from| |the flames, and was so badly burned that | |physicians say he cannot | |live. --_Minneapolis Journal. _ |

=2. Injuries. =--Very often no one is killed in a fire but some one isinjured. For example, five firemen are overcome by ammonia fumes or twomen are seriously injured by a falling wall. This then becomes thefeature. Injuries to human beings, if serious or in any considerablenumber, take precedence over other features, just as loss of human lifedoes. Here is an example from the press in which all the injuries aregathered together at the beginning:

 | Six firemen and two laborers were | |overcome by smoke, while three other | |firemen received minor injuries by flying| |glass in a fire which broke out yesterday| |morning at 10:30 o'clock in the | |Wellauer-Hoffman building, at, | |etc. --_Milwaukee Free Press. _ |

=3. Rescues. =--(a) _Number of People Rescued. _--When people are rescuedfrom great danger in a fire their escape makes a very good feature. Ifmany of them are rescued or escape very narrowly, the mere number ofpeople saved deserves the first place, as:

 | More than 150 men and women were saved | |from death today in a fire at 213-217 | |Grand street by toboganning from the roof| |of the burning structure on a board chute| |to the roof of an adjoining five-story | |building. --_New York Mail. _ |

(b) _Manner of Rescue. _--But more often the manner of their escapeinterests us most. If a man slides down a rope for four stories toescape death by fire we are more interested in how he saved himself thanin the fact that he didn't burn, and so we tell how he escaped, in thefirst line. In the same way, if unusual means are used to save one ormore persons, the means of rescue is usually worth featuring. Forexample:

 | Overcoats used as life nets saved the | |lives of a dozen women and children in a | |fire of incendiary origin in the | |three-story frame tenement house at 137 | |Havemeyer avenue, Brooklyn, to-day, | |etc. --_New York Mail. _ |

=4. Property Threatened. =--Death and injury are the commonest unexpectedcircumstances in fire stories, but they are not the only ones that maybe worth featuring. There is an inconceivable number of things that mayhappen at a fire and overshadow all interest in the fire itself. A goodfeature may be found in the property that is threatened. Often the firein itself is insignificant, but because of a high wind or othercircumstances it threatens to spread to neighboring buildings or todevastate a large area. In such a case the amount of property threatenedor endangered deserves a place in the very first line, especially if itexceeds the amount of property actually destroyed and if it can be putin a striking way; _i. E. _, the entire waterfront district, ortwenty-five dwelling houses, or $5, 000, 000 worth of property. Whencontrasted with the small amount of damage actually done, the amountthat is threatened becomes more important. Thus:

 | Fire that for a time threatened | |$2, 000, 000 worth of property destroyed | |$15, 000 worth of lumber owned by the | |Milwaukee Lumber Company, 725 Clinton | |street, yesterday.... | | | |The territory between Mitchell street | |and the Kinnickinnic river and Reed | |street, to the lake, containing | |manufactories, dwellings and stores, was | |menaced. --_Milwaukee News. _ |

=5. Fire Fighting. =--Not unusually a serious fire results from the factthat it was not checked for some reason or other during its earlierstages. Perhaps the whole thing might have been avoided, or, on thecontrary, a big fire may be extinguished with unexpected ease or unusualskill. In rare cases this matter of very efficient or very inefficientfire fighting is of sufficient importance to take the first place in thelead. For example:

 | Almost total lack of water pressure is | |blamed for the big loss in a fire started| |by a firebug to-day in the five-story | |factory building of Lamchick Brothers, | |manufacturing company, 400-402 South | |Second street, Williamsburg. --_New York | |Mail. _ | | | | Rotten hose, which burst as fast as it | |was put in use, imperiled the lives of | |more than a score of firemen to-day at a | |blaze which swept the three-story frame | |flat house at Third avenue and | |Sixty-seventh street, Brooklyn, from | |cellar to roof, etc. --_New York Mail. _ |

=6. Crowd. =--Not uncommonly in the city a tremendous crowd gathers towatch a fire and blocks traffic for hours. In the absence of othersignificant incidents--death, great loss, etc. --the reporter may beginhis story with an account of the crowd present or the blockade oftraffic. Such a beginning should always be used only as a last resortwhen a fire has no other interesting phase, for crowds always gather atfires and only a very serious blocking of traffic is worth reporting. Thus:

 | Fully 15, 000 persons were attracted to | |the scene of the fire in the portion of | |the plant of the Greenwald Packing | |Company, Claremont Stock Yards, which was| |discovered at 4:56 yesterday | |afternoon. --_Baltimore American. _ | | | | Twenty-five thousand people jammed | |Broadway between Bleecker and Bond | |streets yesterday noon and had the | |excitement of watching 250 girls escape | |from a twelve-story loft building which | |was afire. --_New York Sun. _ |

=7. Miscellaneous. =--There is an infinite number of things that mayhappen at a fire and overshadow the mere fire interest. These are thethings that make one fire different from another, and whenever they areof sufficient importance they become the feature to be played up in thefirst line of the introduction. It would be impossible to enumerate allthe unexpected things that might happen during a fire. It is thiselement of unexpected possibilities that makes the reporting of firesinteresting, and an alert reporter is ever on the lookout for a new andunusual development in the fire to be used as the feature of his story. Here are the leads of a few fire stories clipped from the dailynewspapers:

 | With her home on fire and the smoke | |swirling around her head, Mrs. B. B. | |Blank, a well-known leader of the | |social set of Roland Park, bravely | |stood by her telephone and called upon | |the Roland Park Fire Company for aid | |shortly after 8 o'clock this | |morning. --_Baltimore Star. _ | | | | Four charming young women attired in | |masculine apparel were the unexpected | |and embarrassed hosts of four companies | |of fire department "laddies" last night, | |when fire broke out, etc. --_Milwaukee | |Free Press. _ | | | | For the first time since its | |installation the high-pressure water | |power system was relied upon solely last | |night to fight a Broadway fire, and | |Chief Croker said that he was well | |satisfied with its work. The fire began | |on the third floor of the six-story, | |etc. --_New York Times. _ |

C. FIRE STORIES WITH MORE THAN ONE FEATURE

It would appear from the foregoing examples that almost every fire storyhas a feature. And so it usually has. The great majority of fires thatare worth reporting at all have some unusual incident connected withthem that overshadows the mere fire itself. Sometimes the features arenot of great significance, but it is only as a last resort that areporter begins his story with "Fire"--only when the most ordinary offires is to be covered. 

Unusual features are so common in connection with fires that very oftena single fire has more than one unusual feature. Perhaps the cause ofthe fire is exceptionally striking and at the same time the amount ofproperty destroyed is of great news value in itself. Or the time andsome unexpected attendant circumstance are both worth the first place. In that case the reporter has to choose between the two features andbegin with the one that seems to him to be the more striking. The otherfeature or features may often be arranged in the order of importanceimmediately after the most striking fact at the beginning, provided thatthis does not make the lead unduly complicated. 

For instance, a cold storage warehouse burns and four firemen areovercome by the fumes from the ammonia pipes. Next door is a hospitaland the flames frighten the patients almost into a panic. Either one ofthese incidents is worth the first line of the story. But which one isof the greater importance? Naturally the element of danger to human lifemust be considered first and the actual disabling of four firemen is ofgreater significance than a possible panic in the hospital. Followingthat line of logic our story would begin:

 | Four firemen were overcome by ammonia | |fumes and a panic in the St. Charles | |Hospital was narrowly averted, as a | |result of a fire which destroyed the cold| |storage warehouse of, etc. |

Such a lead would not be too complicated for practical purposes. Butsuppose that around the corner from the cold storage warehouse is alivery in which fifty horses are stabled. The flames frighten the horsesand they break loose and stampede in the streets. The story now hasthree features of striking interest. It would be possible to combinethem all in the lead and to begin in this way:

 | Four firemen were overcome by ammonia | |fumes, a panic was narrowly averted in | |the St. Charles Hospital, and fifty | |frightened horses stampeded in the | |streets as a result of a fire, etc. |

But see how far from the beginning the fire, the actual cause of it all, is placed. The fire is buried behind a mass of details and the reader isconfused. The lead is not a happy one. The only thing to do is to breakup the mass of details and put part of them immediately after the lead. The arrangement is a matter that must be left to the judgment of thereporter. 

This, however, is an extreme case because the various features are sodisconnected and separate. The reporter would have little trouble if theseveral features were more alike. For instance, if one of the walls ofthe building had fallen and killed three firemen the case would havebeen simpler. The death of these men so far overshadows the otherunusual incidents that it drives them out of the lead altogether. For wedo not care about horses and frightened patients when men are crushedbeneath falling walls. All that we are concerned with in our lead now isthe dead and injured--with a feature like this we can trust our readersto go into the story far enough to pick up the other interestingfeatures; we would begin in this way:

 | Three firemen were killed by falling | |walls and four others were overcome by | |ammonia fumes in a fire which destroyed | |the cold storage, etc. |

The combination of dead and injured makes a good beginning, and it isalways advisable to begin with such an enumeration whenever it ispossible. Where the features are not so significant as death andinjuries the matter of arranging more than one striking detail at thebeginning of the lead becomes a greater problem. It must be left toone's own judgment and common sense. The lead must not be too long orcomplicated, and one must hesitate before burying the really importantfacts of the story behind several lines of more or less unusual details. Just as soon as the lead becomes at all confusing take out the detailsand put them into the story later. 

VII

FAULTS IN NEWS STORIES

Before we go on to the consideration of other kinds of news stories itwill be well to consider in greater detail the facts we have learnedfrom writing up fires. Our fire stories should have taught us a numberof things about the form of the news story. Let us sum them up. 

=Paragraph Length. =--We have seen that newspaper writing has acharacteristic style of its own. In the first place notice the length ofa newspaper paragraph. Count the number of words in an average paragraphand compare it with the number of words in a literary paragraph. We findthat the newspaper paragraph is much shorter. There is a reason forthis. Imagine a 150-word literary paragraph set up in a newspaper. Thereare about seven words to the line in a newspaper column and one hundredand fifty words would make something over twenty lines. Try to picture anewspaper made up of twenty-line paragraphs; it would be extremelydifficult to read. We glance over a newspaper hastily and our hasterequires many breaks to help us in gathering the facts. Hence theparagraphs must be short; the very narrowness of the newspaper columncauses them to be shortened. The average lead, you will find, containsless than fifty words and the paragraphs following it are not muchlonger. 

=Sentence Length. =--Notice sentence lengths as compared with literarysentences. You will find that newspaper sentences usually fall into twoclasses: the sentences in the lead and the sentences in the body of thestory. The first sentence is usually rather long--thirty to sixty words. But the sentences in the body of the story are much shorter than mostliterary sentences. Why is this? It results from exactly the same thingthat makes the newspaper paragraphs short--the need of many breaks. Thus, after we finish a lead, we must fall into short sentences. Theyneed not be choppy sentences, but they must be simple and easy to read. 

THE LEAD AND THE BODY OF THE STORY

Our study of the fire story has shown that newspaper stories always havetwo separate and distinct parts: the lead and the body of the story. Inwriting the story a reporter must consider each part separately, although the reader does not distinguish between the two parts. Beforewriting a word the reporter must decide exactly what facts and detailshe is to put in the lead and exactly what fact he is going to play up inthe first line, taking care to begin with the most interesting part ofthe story. After the lead is finished he writes the main body of thestory in accordance with the rules of ordinary English composition. Eachpart must be separate and independent of the other. 

=The Lead. =--The lead itself is always paragraphed separately. Usuallyit consists of a single sentence, although it is much better to break itinto two than to make the sentence too long and complicated. As we havesaid before, the lead must not only tell the most interesting fact orincident in the story, but it must answer the natural questions that thereader immediately asks about this matter; i. E. , when, where, what, why, who, and how. These questions must be answered briefly and concisely intheir order of importance, and the most unusual answer or the moststriking part of the story must precede all the rest. Beyond the answersto these questions there is no space for details in the lead. Every wordmust have a purpose and a necessary purpose or it must be cut out andrelegated to the body of the story. No space should be given toexplanations of minor importance. State the content of the news storyas completely, accurately, and concisely as possible so that the readermay know just what happened, when it happened, where, to whom, andperhaps how and why it happened. Then begin a new paragraph and startthe body of the story. 

Many editors require that the lead consist of one long sentence and yetit must be grammatical. Many reporters forget all about English grammarin their attempt to crowd everything they know into one sentence. Butmere quantity does not make the lead good; it must be grammatical andeasy to read. The verb must have a grammatical subject and, if it is an_active_ verb, it must have a grammatical predicate. Clauses andmodifiers must be attached in a way that cannot be overlooked. Danglingparticiples and absolute constructions should be shunned. All of themodifying clauses must be gathered together either before or after theprincipal clause. Everything must be compact and logical. Many papersdisregard this matter, as will be seen in some of the extracts quoted inthis book, but the best papers do not. 

Every lead should be so constructed that it may stand alone and beself-sufficient. Never should a reporter trust to headlines to enlightenhis readers upon the meaning of the lead--the exact reverse of thismust be true. The story is written first and the headlines are writtenfrom the facts contained in the lead--and usually by another man. Inwriting the lead disregard the existence of headlines, for many readersdo not read them at all. This is but an amplification of the old rule ofcomposition that any piece of writing should be independent of itstitle. The title may be lost, but the essay must be clear without it. 

There are many ways of beginning a lead in order to embody the featurein the first line. At first glance the operation of putting the emphasisof a sentence at the beginning, rather than at the end, may seemdifficult, but with a clear idea of the rules of dependence in Englishgrammar a reporter may transpose any clause to the beginning and thusplay up the content of the clause. For instance, in this lead, | Fire, starting in a moving picture | |theatre, 4418 Third avenue, drove the | |tenants of the building out into the icy | |street while the snowstorm was at its | |height shortly before 12 o'clock last | |night. |

the striking feature of the story is buried--we do not get the unusualpicture of a little group of people shivering in the street during ablinding snowstorm while they watch their homes burn. A simpletransposition of the _while_-clause puts the feature in the first line. Thus:

 | While the snowstorm was at its height | |shortly before 12 o'clock last night, | |fire, starting in a moving picture | |theatre, 4418 Third avenue, drove the | |tenants of the building out into the icy | |street. |

The lead is not perfect now; it might be greatly improved, but it isbetter than before. 

A few of the possible beginnings for a lead are:

1. _Noun. _--The simplest beginning of a lead is of course the use of anoun as subject of the principal verb. For example, "Fire destroyed theresidence of----" or "A flashlight setting fire to a lace curtainstarted a fire----" or "The Plaza Hotel had a few uncomfortable momentslast night----" etc. The subject of the verb may of course have itsmodifiers--adjectives and phrases--but it should not be separated toowidely from its verb. One point is to be noted in the use of a simplenoun at the beginning; an article should not precede the noun if it canbe avoided, for the very simple reason that an article is not worth theimportant space that it takes at the beginning of the lead. In the caseof fire no article is necessary. In other cases it is usually possibleto put in an adjective or some other word that will take the article'splace. However, never begin a story like this: "Supreme Court of theUnited States decided----" or "Young man in evening dress was arrestedlast night----" or "House of John Smith was destroyed yesterday----". Obviously something is lacking and, if no other word will supply thelack, use the article, _the_ or _a_. When the _noun_-beginning is usedthe reporter must never forget that two or more nouns, howeverdifferent, if subject of the same verb, require a plural verb. The verbmay be active or passive, whichever is more convenient, but rarely isthe object of an active verb put first--simply because English cannotbear this transposition of subject and predicate. 

2. _Infinitive. _--Other parts of speech aside from nouns may be subjectsof verbs and so other parts of speech as subjects of the principal verbof the lead may be placed at the beginning of the lead. An infinitivewith its object and modifier may occupy the first line as subject of themain verb; e. G. :

 | To rescue his own son during the | |burning of his own house was a part of | |yesterday's work for Fireman Michael | |Casey, who, etc. |

Here the infinitive "to rescue" and its object are the subject of theverb "was, " and the construction is perfectly grammatical. Unfortunately the English language has another infinitive which verymuch resembles a present participle--the infinitive ending in _-ing_;e. G. , _rescuing_. Without an article this part of speech must, ofcourse, be used only as an adjective, but with an article it becomes aninfinitive, to be treated as a noun; e. G. , _the rescuing of_. It wouldbe perfectly grammatical to begin the above lead in this way: "Therescuing of his own son ... Was the work, etc. " But it would beungrammatical to begin it thus: "Rescuing his own son was the work, etc. " For in the second case the word "rescuing, " if used with anobject, is not an infinitive but a participle, and must be used only asan adjective, thus: "Rescuing his own son, Fireman Casey performed hisduty, etc. , " or "In rescuing his own son, Fireman Casey performed hisduty. " The two uses should never be confused. 

3. _Clause. _--Another expression that may be used as subject of thelead's principal verb is a clause--usually a _that_-clause. Forinstance, "That the entire wholesale district was not destroyed by firelast night is due to, etc. " Here the _that_-clause is subject of theverb is and the expression is entirely grammatical as well as veryuseful as a beginning. 

4. _Prepositional Phrase. _--When the feature of a story is an actionrather than a thing, a noun can hardly be used to express it. Veryoften this lead may be handled by means of a prepositional phrase at thebeginning. For example, one of the stories in the last chapter begins:"With her home on fire and with smoke swirling around her head, Mrs. John, etc. " In this case the prepositional phrase modifies the subjectand should not be far from it. Another variation of this is theprepositional phrase of time, modifying the verb; e. G. , "During thewedding of Miss Mary Jones, last night, the house suddenly caught fire, etc. " This beginning is effective if it is not overworked, but thereader should never be held back from the real facts of the story by astring of complicated phrases, intended to build up suspense. 

5. _Participial Phrase. _--Very much like the prepositional phrasebeginning is the participial beginning. "Sliding down an eighty-footextension ladder with a woman in his arms, Fireman John Casey rescued, etc. " It must be borne in mind that the participial phrase must modify anoun and there should be no doubt in the reader's mind as to the nounthat it modifies. It would of course be absurd to say "Sliding down aneighty-foot extension ladder, fire seriously burned John Casey----, " butsuch things are often said. Never should this participial phrase be usedas the subject of a verb, as "Returning home and finding her house inashes was the unusual experience of Mrs. James, etc. " The phrase mustalways modify a noun just like an adjective. 

6. _Temporal Clause. _--A feature may often be brought to the beginningof the lead by a simple transposition of clauses. Should the time beimportant a subordinate _when_ or _while_ clause may precede theprincipal clause of the sentence; i. E. , "When the snowstorm was at itsheight early this morning, a three-story brick building burned, etc. , "or "While 15, 000 people watched from the street below, 250 girls escapedfrom the burning building at, etc. "

7. _Causal Clause. _--Should the cause of an action or an occurrence beattractive enough for the first line, a _for_ or a _because_ clause maybegin the lead. "Because a tinsmith upset a pot of molten solder on theroof of pier No. 19, two steamers were burned, etc. "

 * * * * *

This does not exhaust the list of possible beginnings. There are a dozenpossible constructions for the beginning of any story; these are merelythe commonest ones. Anything unusual or of doubtful grammar should beavoided because of the many possible alternatives that presentthemselves. And in every lead correct grammar should be consideredabove all else. If a lead is ungrammatical no clever arrangement ofdetails can make it effective or other than ludicrous. For instance, this lead, taken from a newspaper, illustrates an unfortunate attempt tocrowd too many details into a short lead:

 | Bitten by a rattlesnake, Myrtle Olson's| |leg was slashed with a table knife, | |washed the wound with kerosene, then | |covered the incision with salt by her | |mother. Myrtle still lives. |

Another paper tried to arrange it more happily, thus:

 | Bitten by a rattlesnake, Myrtle Olson's| |mother slashed her daughter's leg with a | |table knife, washed the wound with | |kerosene, then covered the incision with | |salt. Myrtle still lives. |

There is evidently something wrong in this. It would be a good exerciseto try to express the idea grammatically. 

 * * * * *

Before we go on to the consideration of the body of this story a few_Don'ts_ in regard to writing leads may be in order. 

Don't begin a lead with a person's name unless the person is well known. We are always interested in anything unusual that a man may do oranything unusual that he may suffer, but unless we know the man we arenot at all interested in his name. Suppose that a man performs somethrilling act or suffers some unusual misfortune in a city of 100, 000people. Probably not more than one hundred people know him, and of thatnumber only one or two will read the story. Then why begin with his namewhen his action is of greater interest to all but a few of our readers?And yet every reader wants to know whether the victim is one of hisfriends. Therefore the man's name must be mentioned in the lead, although it should not come at the beginning. On the other hand, if theman is prominent in the nation or the community and well known to allour readers, his name adds interest to the story and we begin with thename. There is a growing tendency among American newspapers to begin allof their stories with a name. The tendency appears to be the result ofan attempt to break away from the conventional lead and to begin in amore natural way--also an easier way. But the name beginning is afterall illogical, and any reporter is safe in following the logical coursein the matter. If the name is not important begin with something that isimportant. 

Don't waste the main verb of the sentence on a minor action whileexpressing the principal action in a subordinate clause. This is aviolation of emphasis. For example, "Fatally burned by an explosion inhis laundry, Hing Lee was taken to the hospital. " Naturally he would betaken to the hospital, but why put the emphasis of the whole sentence onthat point?

Don't resort to the expression "was the unusual experience of----" "wasthe fate of----" or any like them. Every word in the lead must count, and here are five words that say nothing at all. Use their place to tellwhat the unusual experience was. For instance, don't say "To stand in adriving snowstorm and watch their homes burn to the ground was theunusual experience of two families, living at, etc. "; say instead, "Standing in a driving snowstorm two families watched their homes burnto the ground. " The latter says the same thing more effectively in lessspace. The use of this expression--"was the unusual experience of"--isalways the mark of a green reporter. 

Don't overwork the expression "Fire broke out. " All fires "break out, "but usually we are more interested in the result of the fire than in its"breaking out. " Try to use some expression that will give more definiteinformation. 

Don't be wordy. Editors are always calling for shorter and more conciseleads. If you can say a thing in two words don't use half a dozen. Forexample, "Four members of the local fire department were renderedunconscious by the deadly fumes from bursting ammonia pipes. " This takesthree times as much space as "Four firemen were overcome by ammoniafumes, " and it does not express the idea any more effectively. 

Don't introduce minor details into the lead. If the reader wants thedetails he may read the rest of the story. Take the following lead as anexample:

 | Rushing back into his burning laundry, | |a one-story brick building, to rescue | |from the flames his savings, amounting to| |$437, with which he hoped to raise | |himself from the rank of laborer to that | |of a prosperous merchant, and which was | |hidden under the mattress of his bed in | |the back room of the laundry, Hing Lee, a| |Chinaman, who lives at 79 Nicollett | |avenue and has been in this country but | |three months, was overcome by smoke and | |so seriously burned that he had to be | |removed to the St. Mary Hospital and may | |not live, when his establishment was | |destroyed by a fire which, starting from | |the explosion of the tank of the gasolene| |stove on which he was cooking his dinner, | |gutted his laundry, entailing a loss of | |$1, 000, shortly before noon to-day. |

It is entirely grammatical, but if the reader succeeds in wading throughit there is nothing left to tell about the fire. Why not begin thestory in this way and leave something for the rest of the story?

 | Because he rushed back into his burning| |laundry to rescue his savings, Hing Lee, | |a Chinese laundryman, 79 Nicollett | |avenue, was seriously burned to-day. |

Don't waste the first line of the lead on meaningless generalities. Getdown to the facts at once. For instance, "The presence of mind andbravery of Fireman David Mullen saved Mrs. Daniel Looker from beingburned to death in her flat, etc. " We are willing to grant his braveryand presence of mind, but we want to know at once what he did: "Bysliding down an eighty-foot extension ladder through flames and smokewith an unconscious woman in his arms, Fireman David Mullen rescued Mrs. Daniel, etc. " Equally useless is the beginning, "A daring rescue of anunconscious woman from the fourth story of a blazing flat building wasmade by Fireman David Mullen to-day, etc. " Tell what the daring rescuewas and let the reader manufacture a fitting eulogy. 

Don't exaggerate the facts to make a feature. When a few persons arefrightened don't turn it into a dreadful panic. Every little fire is nota holocaust and the burning of a small barn does not endanger theentire city, unless your imagination is strong enough to guess whatmight have happened had there been a high wind and no fire engines. Anarrow escape from death does not always excuse the beginning, "Scoreskilled and injured would have been the result, _if_----" All beginningsof this kind give a false impression and do not tell the truth. If astory has no striking feature be satisfied to tell the truth about itwithout trying to make a world-wide disaster out of it for the sake of aplace on the front page. Exaggeration for a feature is one of the badelements of sensational journalism. For example, seven lives were lostin this fire, but this is the way the story was written, for the sake ofa three-column scare-head:

 | That 500 sleeping babes and 100 more | |who were kneeling in prayer in St. | |Malachi's Home, a Roman Catholic | |institution for the care of orphans at | |Rockaway Park, are alive to-day is due to| |the coolness of the nuns in charge and | |the children's remembrance of their | |teacher's fire drills. |

The suspense is built up in such a way that at the end of the lead we donot know what happened and read on with breathless interest to find thatthere was a small fire at the Home and seven children were burned. 

=The Body of the Story. =--"A good beginning is half done, " according tothe proverb. In writing a news story a good beginning is more than halfdone--two-thirds at least. The lead is the beginning, and when that hasbeen written we are ready to go on to the body of the story with a clearconscience. 

Our lead has told the reader the main facts of the case and the mostunusual feature. If he reads further he is looking for details. Ingiving him these we return to the ordinary rules of narration. We startat the very beginning of the story and tell it logically and in detailto the end. We tell it as if no lead preceded it and repeat in greaterdetail the incidents briefly outlined in the lead. Never should the bodyof the story depend upon the lead for clearness. If the feature of thestory is a rescue and you have briefly described the rescue in the lead, ignore the lead and describe the rescue all over again in the body ofthe story in its proper place. The number of details that are to beintroduced into the story is limited only by the space that the storyseems to be worth. But no point should be mentioned in the story unlessspace permits of its being made clear. 

The ordinary rules of English composition apply to the writing of thebody of the story. The copy must be paragraphed, cut up into paragraphsthat are rather shorter than ordinary literary paragraphs, since thenarrowness of the newspaper column makes the paragraph seem longer. Heterogeneous details must not be piled together in the same paragraph, but the facts must be grouped and handled logically. No paragraph shouldbe noticeably longer than the others, and it is decidedly bad toparagraph one sentence alone simply because it does not seem to go inwith any other sentence. If the fact is important expand it into aparagraph by the introduction of further details; if it is unimportanteither cut it out of the story altogether or attach it to the paragraphto which it seems most logically to belong. 

One fact, already stated, must be borne in mind as the body of the storyprogresses. The report should be built up in such a way that the editorcan slash off a paragraph or two at the end without injuring thestory--without sacrificing any important facts. To do this the reportershould bring the important parts of the story as near the beginning asthe logical order will permit. The interest of a perfect news story islike an inverted cone. The interest is abundant at the beginning andgradually dwindles out until there is nothing more to say when the endis reached. Just how far the dwindling should be carried depends uponthe amount of space that the story seems to be worth in the paper. 

This may seem difficult. It may be hard to see how a story can be toldin its logical order while at the same time the most interesting factsare placed at the beginning, even if they logically belong near the end. For example, we may take the story of an unusual robbery. A well-dressedman goes into a grocery store to get some butter and tries to rob thegrocer. In the ensuing scuffle the would-be robber escapes. A youngwoman who happens to be passing sees the end of the fight and pursuesthe robber down the street until he runs into a saloon. She calls apoliceman who is standing on the corner and the officer rushes into thesaloon, up three flights of stairs and finds the robber on the roofbehind a chimney. The officer shouts to another policeman, and togetherthey arrest the robber. 

Now, what is the most interesting thing in the story? Probably thepursuit--a young woman chasing a robber down the street. Our lead mightbe written in this way:

 | After being chased down Sixth street by| |a young woman, a robber, who had | |attempted to rob the grocery store of | |Charles Young, 1345 Sixth street, was | |arrested on the roof of a saloon at 835 | |Sixth street, at 7 o'clock last night. |

The lead might be arranged in a different way, but these are the factsthat it would contain. Before we consider the arrangement of the body ofthe story it may be well to go back to the interviews by which wesecured the story. In getting the facts we would probably talk to Young, the groceryman, and to the saloonkeeper into whose establishment therobber fled. We could probably interview the policeman who made thearrest, but let us suppose that the young woman could not be found. Thegroceryman would tell us about the attempted robbery and the escape, with the girl in pursuit. The saloonkeeper would tell us how the manfled into his saloon and ran up the stairs to the roof; then how twopolicemen came and made the arrest. The policeman could tell us how ayoung woman ran up to him and told him that a robber had fled into thesaloon; then he would describe the arrest. None of these stories is toldjust as we want the newspaper story--each one tells us only a part ofthe story. If the finished story were written by a green reporter itwould probably tell the story in the order in which it was obtained. That is if the reporter saw the policeman first, then the saloonkeeper, and lastly the groceryman; his story would tell in the first paragraphwhat the policeman said, in the second paragraph what the saloonkeepersaid, and in the last paragraph what the grocer said. At least that isthe way in which green reporters in the classroom attempted to writethe story. 

But, obviously, that is not the logical way to tell the story. Thefinished account should be written in the order in which it happened:i. E. , first the robbery, then the pursuit, and lastly the arrest. Thiswould be the ideal way to tell the story--according to the rules ofEnglish composition--if we could be sure that the entire story would beprinted. But if it were written in this way and the editor decided toslash off the last paragraph, what would go? Obviously the arrest wouldnot be printed; and the arrest was quite interesting. We must find someway to bring the arrest nearer to the beginning. This may be done byselecting the most interesting parts of the story--by picking out thehigh spots, as it were. In this story the high spots are the attemptedrobbery, the pursuit, and the arrest. The details that fill in betweenare interesting, but not so interesting as these high spots. Hence thesehigh spots of interest must be pushed forward toward the beginning. After the lead the story would begin at the beginning and tell theaffair briefly by high spots in their proper order. It might besomething like this:

 | As Charles Young was closing his | |grocery last evening a young man came in | |and asked for a pound of butter. Young | |turned to get it and his customer struck | |him over the head with a chair. The | |grocer grappled with his assailant and | |they fell through the front door. In the | |scramble, the robber broke away and ran | |down Sixth street. A young woman who was | |passing screamed and ran after him until | |he disappeared into a saloon. | | | |The young woman called Policeman Smith, | |who was standing nearby on Grand avenue, | |and the latter found the would-be robber | |on the roof of the saloon. After a | |struggle, Smith arrested the man, with | |the aid of another policeman. |

The above account tells us briefly the most interesting parts of thestory. A copyreader might not find it perfect, for the assault isallotted too much space and the pursuit too little, but it tells thestory in its baldest aspect. This, with the lead, could be run alone. However, perhaps the story is worth more space; at any rate, manyinteresting details have been omitted. If so, go back to the mostinteresting part of the story--the assault, perhaps, or the pursuit--andtell it with more details. Then retell some other part with moredetails. If your readers are interested enough to read beyond the firstthree paragraphs they want details and will not be so particular aboutthe order--for they already know how the story is going to end. 

This is one way of meeting the requirements of logical order anddwindling interest. This is a particularly hard story to arrange in theconventional way since we must have the whole story to be interested inany single part--it has too many striking incidents in it. On the otherhand, a story which contains only one striking incident is much easierto handle. Suppose that we are reporting a fire which is interestingonly for its cause or for a daring rescue in it. Our lead would suggestthis interesting element and the first part of our story would bedevoted entirely to the cause or to the rescue, as the case might be. But it is better to sketch briefly, immediately after or very close tothe lead, the entire story, for our readers want to know how it endsbefore they can be interested in any particular part. If we sketch thewhole story and show them that there is only one important thing in thestory, they will be satisfied to read about the one striking incidentwithout wondering if there is not something more interesting further on. If we leave the conclusion of the story to the end of our copy theeditor may cut it off and leave our story dangling in midair. Everystory must be treated in its own way, according to its own incidents anddifficulties; no two stories are alike in substance or treatment. Inevery one our aim must be to keep to the logical order and at the sametime to put the most interesting parts of the story near the beginning. 

The construction of the body of a story may be illustrated more clearlyby a fatal fire story--since fire stories are more uniform, and henceeasier to write than other news stories. Let us suppose that the storyis as follows: At four o'clock in the afternoon a fire started from someunknown cause in the basement of a four-story brick building at 383-385Sixth Street, occupied by the Incandescent Light Company. Before thefire company arrived the flames had spread up through the building andinto an adjoining three-story brick building at 381 Sixth Street, occupied by Isaac Schmidt's second-hand store and home on the first andsecond floors and by Mrs. Sarah Jones's boarding house on the third. TheSchmidts were away and Mrs. Jones's lodgers escaped via the fireescapes. Her cook, Hilda Schultz, was overcome by smoke and had to becarried out by Jack Sweeney, a lodger. Mrs. Jones fell from the fireescape and was badly bruised. Meanwhile the firemen were at work on theroof of the burning four-story building. Blinded by the smoke, one ofthem, John MacBane, stepped through a skylight and fell to the fourthfloor. His comrades tried to rescue him by lowering Fireman Henry Bondinto the smoke by the heels; they were unsuccessful and Bond broke hisarm in the attempt. The fire was confined to the lower floors of the twobuildings and extinguished. In searching for MacBane, the firemen foundhim suffocated on the fourth floor where he had fallen. 

The feature of the story is evidently the one death and the threeinjuries. Our lead might be written as follows:

 | One fireman was suffocated and three | |other persons were injured in a fire in | |the Incandescent Light Company's plant, | |383-385 Sixth street, and an adjoining | |three-story building, late yesterday | |afternoon. |

This lead would suggest to the reader many interesting details to comein the body of the story, and evidently the details are not all of equalimportance. The story could be told in its logical order, but, since thedeath is more interesting than the origin of the fire and the injuriesare more significant than how the fire spread, it is obvious that itwould not be best to tell the story in the order in which it is toldabove. 

Disregarding the lead, we must cover the following details in the bodyof our story:

 Description of buildings and occupants. Origin of fire. Discovery of fire. Spread of flames. Injury of Mrs. Jones. Rescue of Hilda Schultz. Death of MacBane. Injury of Bond. Fire extinguished. 

This is the order in which things occurred at the fire. However, in ourlead, we have drawn attention to our story by announcing that itconcerns a fire in which a man was killed; the death therefore shouldhave first place in the body of the story. Hence, in the secondparagraph immediately after the lead, we must tell how MacBane fellthrough the skylight and was suffocated. Along with his death we may aswell tell how Bond broke his arm trying to rescue MacBane. Our lead hasalso announced two other injuries and, hence, they must be includednext--that is, our third paragraph must be devoted to the injury of Mrs. Jones and the rescue of the unconscious Hilda. But as yet our detailsare hanging in the air because we have not said anything about thebuildings or the fire itself. In the next paragraph it would be well todescribe the buildings and their occupants and to give a very briefaccount of the course of the fire--perhaps in this way:

 | Flames were first discovered in the | |basement of the Incandescent building and| |before the fire department arrived had | |spread through the lower floors and into | |the adjoining three-story building. The | |absence of elevator shafts and air-shafts| |enabled the firemen to extinguish the | |blaze before it reached the upper floors. |

This tells the main course of the fire, but there are some interestingdetails to add: first, the origin of the fire; next, the discovery; thenmore about how the fire spread; and lastly, how the fire wasextinguished. Our story by paragraphs would read as follows:

 1st Paragraph--The lead. 

 2d Paragraph--Death of MacBane and injury of Bond. 

 3d Paragraph--Mrs. Jones's injury and Hilda's rescue. 

 4th Paragraph--Buildings, occupants, brief course of fire. 

 5th Paragraph--Detailed account of origin of the fire. 

 6th Paragraph--How the fire was discovered. 

 7th Paragraph--More about the spread and course of the fire. 

 8th Paragraph--How the fire was extinguished. 

 9th Paragraph--Loss, insurance, extent of damage. 

Thus, while telling the story almost in its logical order, we havepicked out the high spots of interest and crowded them to the beginning. Our readers will get the facts just about as fast as they wish to readthem and in the order in which they wish them. Our story may be run innine paragraphs or even more; or the editor may slash off anything afterthe fourth paragraph without taking away any of the essential facts ofthe fire. This method of telling would fulfill all the requirements ofan ideal news story. A similar outline of the facts that any story mustpresent will often help a reporter to tell his story as it should betold. After listing the details he may number them in their order ofimportance and check them off as he has told them. 

 * * * * *

This idea of throwing the emphasis and interest to the beginning appliesto the individual paragraphs and sentences of the story, as well. Eachparagraph must begin strongly and display its most interesting contentin the first line. The emphatic part of each sentence should be thebeginning. A glance at any newspaper column shows why this is necessary. 

The body of a news story is the place for the reporter's skill andstyle. He is given all the liberties of ordinary narration and shouldmake the most of every word. His individual style comes into play here. If the interest can be increased by a bit of dialogue the reporter mayput it in. If the facts can be presented more effectively by means ofdirect quotation, the words of any one whom the reporter has interviewedmay be of interest. However, these things must not be overworked becauseevery trick of writing loses its effectiveness when it is overworked. 

Dialogue used only to give facts which might be told more clearly insimple direct form should seldom be used. Dialogue in a news story isused only to color the story and not to reproduce the interviews bywhich the facts were obtained. In gathering the facts of a story it issometimes necessary to interview a number of people, but theseinterviews should not be quoted in the resulting story. Many a greenreporter tries to give his story character by telling what the policemanon the corner, the janitor, and a small boy in the street told him aboutthe incident. He succeeds only in dragging out the length of his storyand confusing the reader. After all, the purpose of a newspaper is togive facts--and the clearer and the more direct the method the betterwill be the result. 

In striving for clearness and interest a reporter must remember that oneof his greatest assets is concreteness of expression. Of all forms ofcomposition newspaper writing possesses probably the greatestopportunity for definiteness. Facts and events are its one concern;theories and abstractions are beyond its range. Hence the more definiteand concrete its presentation of facts, the better will be its effect. The reporter should never generalize or present his statements hazilyand uncertainly--a fact is a fact and must be presented as such. He musttry to avoid such expressions as "several, " "many, " "a few"--it isusually possible to give the exact number. He must continually askhimself "how many?" "what kind?" "exactly when?" "exactly what?"Expressions like "about a dozen, " "about thirty years old, " "about aweek ago, " "about a block away, " are never so effective as the exactfacts and figures. Definite concrete details make a news story real andvivid. The real reporter of news is the one who can see a thing clearlyand with every detail and present it as clearly and distinctly. 

VIII

OTHER NEWS STORIES

The fire story is obviously not the only news story that is printed in adaily newspaper, but a study of its form gives us a working knowledge ofthe writing of other news stories. The fire story is probably thecommonest news story, and it is by far the easiest story to handle, forits form has become somewhat standardized. We know just exactly what ourreaders want to know about each fire, and within certain limits allfires, as well as the reports of them, are very much alike. There isseldom more than one fact or incident that makes one fire different fromanother and that fact we always seize as the feature of our report. However, the fire story has been taken only as typical of other newsstories. Now we are ready to study the others, using the fire story asour model in writing the others. 

There is a vast number of other stories that we must be able to write, and they lack the convenient uniformity that fires have. Not only doesevery story have a different feature, but it is concerned with adifferent kind of happening. One assignment may call for the report ofan explosion, another the report of a business transaction, and anothera murder. In each one we have to get the facts and choose the moststriking fact as our feature. Never can we resort to the simplebeginning "Fire destroyed, " but we must find a different beginning foreach assignment. 

Just as in the fire story, the lead of any news story is the mostimportant part. It must begin with the most striking part of the eventand answer the reader's _Where?_ _When?_ _How?_ _Why?_ and _Who?_concerning it. All the rules that apply to the fire lead apply to thelead of any story. 

It would be impossible to classify all the news stories that a newspapermust print. The very zest of reporting comes from the changing varietyof the work; no two assignments are ever exactly alike--if they wereonly one would be worth printing. Newspapers themselves make no attemptto classify the ordinary run of news or to work out a systematicdivision of labor; a reporter may be called upon to cover a fire, apolitical meeting, a murder, a business story, all in the same day. Eachone is simply a story and must be covered in the same way that all therest are covered--by many interviews for facts. For our study it may bewell to divide news stories into a few large groups. The groups overlapand are not entirely distinct, but the stories in each group have someone thing in common that may aid us in learning how to write them. Atmost, the list is only a very incomplete summary of the more importantkinds of news stories and is intended to be merely a suggestive way ofsupplying the student with necessary practice. 

=1. Accidents. =--Accident stories may be anything from a sprained ankleto a disastrous railroad wreck, but they all depend upon one element fortheir interest. They are all printed because people in general areinterested in the injuries and deaths of other people--physical calamityis the common ground in all these stories. 

The number of possible accidents is infinite, but there are some commontypes that recur most often. Among these are: railroad, trolley, railroad crossing accidents; runaways; electrocutions; explosions;collapse of buildings; marine disasters; cave-in accidents; elevator, automobile, aviation accidents. 

The feature of any accident story is always, of course, the thing thatmade the story worth printing, and that is usually the human lifeelement. The feature of an accident story is almost always the number ofdead and injured. Most reports of railroad wrecks begin with "Tenpersons were killed and seventeen were injured in a wreck, etc. " Thesame is true of any accident story; if more than one person is killed itis usually safe to begin with the number of fatalities. In thisconnection it may be noted that the death of railroad employees seldommakes a story worth printing; they may be included in the total number, but if no passengers are killed, fatalities among trainmen seldom give astory any news value. 

Accident stories of course have many other possible features; newspapersreport many accidents in which no one is killed. In that case some otherelement gives the story news value and that element must be played up asthe feature. Perhaps it is the manner in which the accident happened orthe manner in which a person was killed or injured, as in an automobileaccident. The cause of the accident may be the most interesting part ofthe story: train-wreckers or a broken rail in a railroad wreck, or thecause of an explosion. Very often an accident is reported simply becausesome well-known person was connected with it in some way; the name thenbecomes the feature and comes into the first line. A story may be worthprinting simply because of the unusual manner of rescue; such a featureis often played up in stories of marine accidents, cave-ins, etc. Notinfrequently some of the unusual attendant circumstances give a storynews value: e. G. , a policeman dragged from his horse and run over by anautomobile while he is trying to stop a runaway. 

Here are some accident stories from the newspapers:

Fatalities:

 | Six men were killed and a dozen | |seriously injured early to-day by an | |outbound Panhandle passenger train | |crashing into the rear end of a Chicago, | |Milwaukee and St. Paul stock train at | |Twelfth and Rockwell streets. --_Chicago | |Record-Herald. _ |

Manner:

 | Run down by her own automobile, which | |she was cranking, at First and G streets, | |northwest, Dr. Alma C. Arnold, a | |chiropractic physician, 825 Fifteenth | |street, northwest, was forced against the| |wheel of a passing wagon and seriously | |injured this morning. --_Washington | |Times. _ |

Cause:

 | Over-balanced by a granite stone | |weighing four tons, the entire cornice | |over the west portico of the new west | |wing of the capitol fell to the ground | |this afternoon, carrying with it Daniel | |Logan, foreman for the Woodbury Granite | |Company. --_Madison Democrat. _ |

Attendant Circumstances:

 | With a blast that shook the entire city| |and was believed by many to be an | |earthquake, three boilers in the new | |engine house of the Pabst brewery on | |Tenth street, between Chestnut street and| |Cold Spring avenue, exploded at about 4 | |o'clock this morning. --_Milwaukee Free | |Press. _ |

=2. Robberies. =--Another large class of news stories is concerned withrobberies of various kinds. Unfortunately for the reporter, very fewrobberies are alike; beyond the common ground of the interest in theamount stolen and the cleverness of the robber's work, there is seldomany one thing that may be looked for as the feature of a robbery story. The reporter must decide what in the story makes it worth printing. 

Robbery stories may include anything from petty thievery to bankdefaulting. Some of the possibilities are horse and automobile stealing, burglary, hold-ups, train and street-car robbery, embezzlement, fraud, kidnapping, safe-cracking, shop and bank robbery. It is well for thereporter who has to cover a story of this class to acquaint himself withthe distinctions that characterize the various kinds of robbery and thevarious names applied to the people who commit this sort of crime: e. G. , robber, thief, bandit, burglar, hold-up man, thug, embezzler, defaulter, safe-cracker, pick-pocket. 

In general the chief interest in robbery stories is in the result ofthe work--the amount taken--usually accompanied by a term to designatethe sort of robbery. Just how the crime was committed is often thefeature, as in a train robbery or a clever case of fraud. If the victimor victims are at all well known their names may become the mostinteresting thing in the story--or even the name of a well-knowncriminal or band of robbers. In some stories, especially if anotherpaper has already covered the story, the pursuit or capture of thecriminals is often interesting; the stories of bank robberies oftenbegin in this way. Other attendant circumstances, such as the number ofpersons who witnessed the crime, may be the feature. In hold-ups, burglaries, and crimes of that sort, the death or wounding of the victimis often played up. Sometimes the reason for the crime, as in akidnapping case, is of great significance. In the case of a robbery of abank or any other institution which depends upon credit for itsbusiness, the story usually begins with, or at least mentions near thebeginning, the present condition of the robbed institution. It is safeto say that in no case is the name of the criminal, the manner of hisarrest (if it is not unusual), the police station to which he was taken, or the charge preferred against him worth a place in the lead. 

Some robbery stories from the daily press:

Amount taken:

 | Furs worth $40, 000 were stolen in the | |early hours of yesterday morning within a| |stone's throw of Madison Square. | |Apparently a gang in which there was a | |woman expert in choosing only the best | |furs carried off the costly skins, | |etc. --_New York World. _ |

Manner of hold-up:

 | Seized by thugs in broad daylight as he| |was crossing the railroad tracks at the | |foot of First avenue east, Fred Butzer, a| |stonemason of Butler, Minn. , was thrown | |to the ground, a gag placed in his mouth, | |his pockets were rifled of $36. --_Duluth | |News-Tribune. _ |

Unusual sort of pickpocket:

 | A young man in evening dress, who was | |going down into the subway station at | |Times Square with the theater crowd that | |filled the entrance just outside of the | |Hotel Knickerbocker early last night, | |paused, knocked a woman under the chin | |and took away her silver chatelaine purse| |containing $20 as deftly as he might have| |flicked the ash off his cigarette. Then | |he disappeared. --_New York Times. _ |

Unusual thieves:

 | Two girl thieves not more than twelve | |years old and small in stature for their | |age have been operating with great | |success in the different stores in the | |neighborhood of Amsterdam avenue and | |Seventy-ninth street. Five or six thefts, | |etc. --_New York Telegram. _ |

Pursuit and capture:

 | After a chase along Forty-second street| |and up the steps of the Hotel Manhattan, | |a woman, who said she was Sadie Brown, | |thirty-three years old, of No. 215 West | |Forty-sixth street, was arrested early | |today on suspicion of having picked the | |pocket of a man at, etc. --_New York | |Telegram. _ |

Present conditions of robbed bank (second paragraph of an embezzlementstory):

 | Banking Commissioner Watkins this | |afternoon declared that he found the bank| |perfectly sound, that all commercial | |paper was found intact, that none of the | |accounts have been juggled and that no | |erasures of any kind were | |discovered. --_Philadelphia Inquirer. _ |

Unusual sort of burglar:

 | Wearing a Salvation Army uniform, a | |burglar was caught early yesterday in the| |home of Walter Katte, a vice-president of| |the New York Central railroad, at | |Irvington-on-the-Hudson. --_New York | |World. _ |

=3. Murder. =--The reports of crimes of this sort can hardly beclassified, for there are so many things that may be worth featuring inany murder case. The story itself is usually of such importance that themere fact that a murder has been committed gives it news value even ifthere is nothing unusual in the crime--just as in the case of afeatureless fire story that begins with "Fire. " The handling of a crimedepends upon the character and circumstances; the reporter must weighthe facts in each case for himself. However, we usually find a featurein the number of persons murdered, the manner in which the crime wascommitted, the name of the victim, if he or she is well known, thereason for the deed, or in some of the many attendant circumstances, such as arrest, pursuit, etc. One rule must always be followed in thereporting of a murder story: the reporter must confine himself to thenecessary facts and omit as many of the gruesome details as possible. Hemust tell it in a cold, hard-hearted way without elaboration, for thestory in itself is gruesome enough. Just as soon as a murder storybegins to expand upon shocking details it becomes the worst sort of ayellow story. 

Examples of murder stories from the newspapers:

Manner:

 | After crushing in the head of his | |superior officer with an axe, James | |Layton, boatswain of the Liverpool | |sailing ship Colony, refused to submit to| |arrest, and, still waving the bloody | |weapon, committed suicide by jumping into| |the sea. --_New York Mail. _ |

Motive:

 | In revenge for a beating he received | |the day before, Gaetona Ambrifi yesterday| |shot and instantly killed Frank | |Ricciliano, a sub-section foreman on the | |Pennsylvania Railroad, while they were | |working on the roadbed near Peddle | |street, Newark. --_New York Sun. _ |

Prominent name:

 | Mayor William J. Gaynor of New York | |City was shot and seriously, perhaps | |fatally, wounded on board the steamer | |Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse at 9:30 as he | |was sailing for Europe. |

Resulting pursuit:

 | The police of Brooklyn have another | |murder mystery to unravel through the | |finding early today of the body of Peter | |Barilla on Lincoln road, near Nostrand | |avenue, Flatbush. There were two bullet | |wounds in the body and four stab wounds | |in the back. --_Brooklyn Eagle. _ |

Attendant circumstances:

 | A hundred or more persons who were | |about to take trains witnessed the | |shooting to death of a Jersey City | |business man in the Pennsylvania Railroad| |station there this afternoon. --_New York | |Mail. _ |

=4. Suicide. =--What is true of murder stories is also true of suicide. Each individual case has an unusual feature of its own. We ordinarilyfind a good beginning in the manner of the suicide, the name of theperson who has killed himself if he is well known, the reason for theact, or some one of the attendant circumstances--often the manner ofresuscitation if the crime is unsuccessful. For some unexplained reasonmany papers do not print accounts of ordinary suicides, except when theindividual is prominent. At any rate the story must be told withoutgruesome details and as briefly as possible. 

Examples from the press:

Name:

 | William L. Murray of Rockview avenue, | |North Plainfield, paying teller of the | |Empire Trust Company of New York, | |committed suicide at Scotch Plains early | |this afternoon by shooting himself in the| |head. No reason is assigned for the | |act. --_New York Sun. _ |

Motive:

 | Driven insane by continued brooding | |over ill health, Miss Ada Emerson, a | |former teacher in the Beloit city | |schools, killed herself in a crowded | |interurban car Saturday afternoon by | |slashing her throat with a | |razor. --_Beloit Free Press. _ |

Here the manner is the feature, but it is not played up in the firstline because it is too horrible. 

=5. Big Stories. =--The big stories of catastrophes are usually handledon a large scale--played up, as the newspaper men say. The story initself is of sufficient importance to make it unnecessary to play up anysingle feature of the story. However, the reporter, in looking for agood beginning, often finds it in the most startling fact in the story. If he is reporting a riot he usually begins with the number of killedor injured, the amount of property destroyed, the character of the riot, or the cause, as in this example:

 | In an effort to bring about the | |reinstatement of one of their number who | |had been discharged for non-unionism, a | |hundred or more journeymen bakers wrecked| |the bakeshop of Pincus Jacobs, at No. | |1571 Lexington avenue, early this | |morning. --_New York Evening Post. _ |

In the case of a storm the human life element is of greatest importance, then the damage to property, and last, the peculiar circumstances. Forexample:

 | CLEVELAND, Dec. 11. --Fifty-nine lives | |were the cost of a storm which passed | |over Lake Erie Wednesday night and | |Thursday, and more than $1, 000, 000 worth | |of vessel property was destroyed. --_New | |York Evening Post. _ |

If the story is concerned with a flood the human-life element is first, then the damage, the cause, the freaks of the flood, or the presentsituation. For example:

 | PARKERSBURG, W. Va. , March 10. --Three | |persons are known to have perished in a | |flood which swept down upon the city on | |Friday when two water reservoirs on | |Prospect Hill burst without warning. | |Forty houses were destroyed and many | |persons are missing. The property damage | |will be nearly $500, 000. |

=6. Police Court News. =--The ordinary run of police court news is in aclass by itself. Usually the only news value in the story depends uponsome unusual incident or circumstance that attracts the attention of thereporter. This is of course the source of many of the stories of crime, mentioned before, but many stories turn up at the police courts whichare not concerned with crime, although in some cases they are concernedwith criminals. In this field of reporting there are many opportunitiesfor the human-interest story which will be taken up in a later chapter. When the incident is reported in an ordinary news story the feature isusually in some attendant circumstance and the story might well beclassed with one of the above groups. Here are two examples from thedaily press:

 | Because he did not have sufficient | |money to buy flowers for his sweetheart, | |Henry Trupke, aged 21 years, forged a | |check for $22. 50 on a grocer, J. | |Sieberlich, 781 Third street, and after a| |week's chase was caught last night as he | |got off a Wisconsin Central | |train. --_Milwaukee Sentinel. _ |

 | But a few hours before receiving a | |sentence of two years in the house of | |correction for stealing furs from the | |store of Lohse Bros. , 117 Wisconsin | |street, John Garner, self-confessed | |thief, was married to Rose Strean, one | |of the witnesses in the case, which was | |tried yesterday in the municipal | |court. --_Milwaukee Free Press. _ |

=7. Reports of Meetings, Conferences, Decisions, etc. =--This groupincludes all reports of meetings, or conferences, of bodies of any sort, political or otherwise, reports of judicial or legislative hearings ordecisions, or announcements of resolutions passed. Such as:

 | WASHINGTON, Jan. 15. --Acquisition of | |the telegraph lines by the government and| |their operation as a part of the postal | |system is the latest idea of Postmaster | |General Hitchcock. Announcement was made | |today that a resolution to this effect | |will be offered to Congress at the | |present session. --_Wisconsin State | |Journal. _ |

There is always one thing in these stories that gives them newsvalue--the purpose or result of the conference, hearing, orannouncement. This purpose or result, of course, must be played up. Theone point that the reporter should remember is that a well-written leadbegins with the result or purpose of the meeting or announcement ratherthan with the name of the meeting or the name of the body that makes theannouncement. Never begin a story thus: "At a meeting of the Press Clubheld in the Auditorium last night it was resolved that----" Transposethe sentence and begin with a statement of what was resolved. In thefollowing story the order is wrong:

 | The Supreme Court of the United States, | |through the opinion delivered by Justice | |Vandevanter, today declared | |constitutional the employers' liability | |law of 1908. |

The import of the decision is buried; it should be written thus:

 | The employers' liability law of 1908 | |was today declared constitutional by the | |Supreme Court of the United States. | |Justice Vandevanter delivered the opinion| |of the court, made in four cases. |

In these stories, as in all other news stories, the lead must begin withthe fact or statement that gives the story news value. Burying this factor statement behind two or three lines of explanation spoils theeffectiveness of the lead. A student of journalism may gain very goodpractice in the writing of news stories by looking over the leads thatappear in the daily papers and transposing those leads which bury theirnews behind explanations. The first line of type in a lead is like ashop's show window and it must not be used for the display of packingcases. 

=8. Stories on Other Printed Matter. =--A large part of a newspaper'sspace, especially in smaller cities, is devoted to stories based onprinted bulletins, announcements, city directories, legislative bills, and published reports of various kinds. Sometimes a news story iswritten upon a pamphlet that was issued for advertisingpurposes--because there is some news in it. In all of these stories thereporter must look through the pamphlet to find something of news valueor something that has a significant relation to other news. Smallerpapers often print stories on the new city directory; the increase ordecrease in population is treated as news and a very interesting storymay be written on a comparison of the names in the directory. Inuniversity towns the appearance of a new university catalog or bulletinof any sort is the occasion for a story which points out the newfeatures or compares the new bulletin with a previous one. Reporters andcorrespondents in political centers, like state capitals, get outstories on committee and legislative reports and on new bills that areproposed or passed by the legislature. The writing of these stories isvery much like the reporting of a speech, which will be discussed later. The newest or most interesting feature in the report or bill is playedup in the lead as the feature of the story, followed by the source ofthe story, the printed bulletin upon which the story is based; thus:

 | A new plan for placing the control of | |all water power in the state in the hands| |of the legislature was proposed in the | |minority report of Senators J. B. Smith | |and L. C. Blake, of the special | |legislative committee on drainage, issued| |today. |

These eight classes of news stories do not include all the news storiesthat a newspaper prints, but they are in a way typical of all the othersthat are not mentioned. It will be noted from these that all newsstories, just like the fire story, are usually written in about the sameway. Each one has a lead which begins with the feature of thestory--i. E. , the fact or incident in the story which gives it news valueand makes it of interest--and concludes by answering the reader'squestions, when, where, who, how, why, concerning the feature. Eachstory begins again after the lead, and in one or more paragraphsexplains, describes, or narrates the incident in detail and in logicalorder. This body of the story which follows the lead, while following ingeneral the logical order, is so written that its most interesting factsare near the beginning and its interest dwindles away toward the end. This is to enable the editor in making up his paper, to take away fromthe end of any story, as we have seen before, a paragraph or morewithout spoiling the story's continuity or depriving it of any of itsessential facts. The form of the conventional fire story may be used asa model in the writing of any news story. 

In writing the body of a story to explain, describe, or narrate theincident mentioned in the lead, every effort should be directed towardclearness. This is particularly true of stories which are in the mainnarrations of action. The number of facts that may be included mustdepend upon the length of the story; if all of the facts cannot beincluded without overburdening the story, cut out some of the details oflesser importance, but treat those that are included in a clear readableway. Short sentences are always much better in newspaper writing thanlong involved sentences. Pronouns should always be used in such a waythat there can be no doubt in regard to their antecedents. If arelative clause or participial expression sounds awkward make a separatesentence of it. In other words, be simple, concise, and clear--that isbetter in a newspaper than much fine writing. 

IX

FOLLOW-UP AND REWRITE STORIES

The terms "rewrite story" and "follow-up, or follow, story, " are nameswhich newspaper men apply to the rehashed or revised versions of othernews stories. A large newspaper office employs one or more rewrite menwho spend their entire time rewriting stories. To be sure, a part oftheir work consists of rewriting, or simply recasting, poorly writtencopy prepared by the reporters. But the major part of their work, thepart that interests us, involves something more than that. It involvesthe rejuvenation of stories that have been printed in a previous editionor in another paper, with the purpose of bringing the news up to thepresent moment. 

News ages very rapidly. What may be news for one edition is no longernews when another edition goes to press an hour later. A feature thatmay be worth playing up in a morning paper would not have the same newsvalue in an evening paper of the same day. The news grows stale soquickly because new things are continually happening and newdevelopments are continually changing the aspect of previous stories. If a story has been run through two or three editions and newdevelopments have changed it, the story is turned over to a rewrite manfor consequent alteration. A story in a morning paper is no longer newsfor an evening paper of the same date, but a clever rewrite man, with orwithout new developments added to the story, can recast it so that itwill appear to contain more recent news than the original story. Thestory of an arrest in a morning paper begins with the particulars of thearrest; but when the evening paper's rewrite man has rearranged it forhis paper it has become the story of the trial or the police courthearing which followed the arrest. Perhaps the evening paper sends a manto get the later developments in the case, but every rewrite man knowsthe steps that always follow an arrest and he can rewrite the originalstory without additional information. His account of the laterdevelopments is called either a rewrite or a follow-up story, dependingupon the method employed. The same fundamental idea of rejuvenating theformer story governs the preparation of both the rewrite and thefollow-up story, but while the rewrite story contains no additionalnews, the follow-up presents later facts in addition to the old news. 

=1. The Rewrite Story. =--The rewrite story is primarily a rehashing of aprevious news story without additional facts. It attempts to give a newtwist to old facts in order to bring them nearer to the present time. Without the aid of later facts the rewrite man can only select a newfeature and revise the old facts. For example, suppose that a $100, 000grain elevator burns during the night. The fire would make a big storyin a city of moderate size and the papers next morning would treat it atlength. If no one were killed or injured the story would probably beginwith a simple announcement of the fire in a lead of this kind:

 | Fire destroyed the grain elevator of | |the H. P. Jones Produce Company, First | |and Water streets, and $50, 000 worth of | |wheat at 2 o'clock this morning. The | |total loss is estimated at $150, 000. |

Then the reporter would describe the fire at length, including allobtainable facts. By afternoon almost every one in the city has read thestory--and yet the afternoon papers must print something about the bigfire. If no new facts can be obtained the previous story must berehashed and presented with a new feature that will make it appear to bea later story. It is useless to begin the evening story with a mereannouncement of the fire, for that is no longer news, and the rewriteman must find a new beginning to attract the attention of his readers. Perhaps in looking over the morning story, he finds that the fire wasthe result of spontaneous combustion in the grain stored in theelevator. In the morning story this fact was rather insignificant in theface of the huge loss, and most readers passed over it hastily. Therewrite man, however, who has no later facts at his command, may seizeit as a new feature. Instead of beginning his story with the fact of thefire, which is already known, he begins with the cause, which appears tobe later news. His lead may be as follows:

 | Spontaneous combustion in the wheat | |bins of the H. P. Jones Produce Company's| |elevator, First and Water streets, | |started the fire which destroyed the | |entire structure with a loss of $150, 000 | |this morning. |

Or if the rewrite man is not so fortunate as to discover a new featureas good as this, he may have to resort to beginning with a picture ofthe present results of the fire--thus:

 | Smouldering ruins and a tangled mass of| |steel beams are all that remain of the H. | |P. Jones Produce Company's $100, 000 | |grain elevator, First and Water streets, | |which was destroyed by fire this morning. |

It will be noticed that, while these new rewrite leads begin with a newfeature, each new lead contains all the facts presented in the previouslead and is told with an eye to the man who has not read the earlieraccount. After the lead the rewrite man retells the whole story for thebenefit of readers who did not see the morning papers and rearranges thefacts so that they appear new to those who read the previous stories. Facts which the other papers buried he unearths and displays; detailswhich appear to be later developments he crowds to the beginning. Thewhole story is sorted and rewritten in a new order and with a newemphasis. The result is a rewrite story which appears to be later, although it contains no new facts at all. It is seldom, of course, thatsuch a rewrite story is used for local news, for very rarely is itimpossible for a later paper to discover new facts. But in the case ofnews from the outside world, from other cities, the simple method ofrehashing old facts must often be resorted to. If the story is basedupon a single dispatch announcing an earthquake in Hawaii or a shipwreckin mid-ocean, many rewrite stories must be printed on the same factsbefore another message brings later news and additional details. Anexample of this is the treatment of the first few stories of the wreckof the White Star liner _Titanic_. The story was a big one, but thefirst dispatches were very meager and many rehashings of these few factshad to be printed before later and more definite news could be obtained. 

The simple rewriting of an old story ordinarily involves a condensationof the facts. If a morning paper printed two thousand words on the grainelevator fire above, an afternoon paper of the same day would hardlytreat the story at such length. For the story is no longer big news. Ifa story has run through the first editions of a morning paper it wouldbe cut down, as well as rehashed, in the later editions of the samepaper. The story of the fire loses its initial burst of interest afterthe first printing, and only the essential facts and the facts that canbe rejuvenated can be reprinted. The 2, 000-word version in the morningpaper may be worth only five hundred words or less four hours later. 

=2. The Follow-up Story. =--If new facts are added to a story betweeneditions the new version is no longer a simple rewrite story. It becomesa follow-up story, for it follows up the subsequent developments in theprevious story and corresponds to the second or succeeding installmentsof a serial novel in which each installment begins with a synopsis ofprevious chapters. For example, if, in the grain elevator fire story, the body of a watchman were found in the ruins after the morning papershave gone to press, the story would immediately have a different newsvalue for the evening papers. The story of the big fire is old, but thediscovery of the body is new. Hence the rewrite man would begin with thelater development--perhaps thus:

 | The body of a watchman was found this | |afternoon in the ruins of the H. P. Jones| |Produce elevator, which burned to the | |ground this morning with a loss of | |$150, 000. |

The new story, while retelling the principal facts in the previousaccount, would give prominence to the latest news, the discovery of thebody. As an example from a newspaper, let us take the follow-up of amurder mystery. The first stories on this murder simply said that agrocer had been found dead in the cellar of his store and murder hadbeen suggested. The follow-up on the next day (printed here) deals witha new development--has a new feature--and carries the story one stepfurther in the attempt to unravel the mystery:

 | Developments yesterday in the story of | |the killing of James White, the Park | |street grocer, tended to support the | |contention of Coroner Donalds and the | |police that White was not murdered, but | |died by his own hand. |

=3. Analysis. =--So far we have treated the rewrite story and thefollow-up story separately, but for the purposes of analysis and studythey may be treated together, because the same fundamental idea governsboth. Dissection of the follow-up story will also show us what therewrite story is made of. 

From the above clippings it will be seen that the lead of the follow-upstory is very much like that of any news story. The lead has its featurein the first line and answers the reader's questions concerning thatfeature. It is simply a new story written on an old subject which hasbeen given a new feature to make it appear new. Furthermore, it will benoticed that the lead of the follow-up story is complete in itself, without the original story that preceded it. Although the whole idea ofthe follow story is based on the supposition that all readers have readevery edition of the paper and are therefore acquainted with theoriginal story, yet for the benefit of those readers who have not readthe previous story, the follow-up must be complete and clear in itself. New facts are introduced into the follow story, but its lead tells themain facts of the original story so that no reader will be at loss tounderstand what it is all about--in other words, it gives a synopsis ofprevious chapters. In many follow-up stories the new developments aresupplemented by an entire retelling of the original story. This isespecially true when one paper is rewriting a story which broke too latefor its preceding edition and was covered by a rival paper. At any rate, every follow-up story, like every other news story, must be soconstructed as to stand by itself without previous explanation. 

 | Of the 142 bodies of victims of the | |Triangle Waist Company's fire on | |Saturday, that had been taken to the | |morgue up to noon yesterday when it was | |decided that all the dead had been | |recovered, all but 45 had been identified| |today. |

This is a follow-up of a story two days before. Every reader of thepaper probably knew everything that had been printed previously aboutthe fire, and yet this lead very carefully recalls the fire to thereader's mind. Later in the story the principal facts of the originalstory are retold as if they were new and unknown. 

It is interesting to see what in any given newspaper story can befollowed up for a later story. The would-be reporter may get goodpractice in writing follow-up stories from the mere attempt to study outthe next step in any given new story. With this next step as his featurehe may try to write a follow-up story without additional information, and then compare it with other follow-up stories. For every news storycontains within it clues to what may be expected to follow. 

When any serious fire occurs certain additional facts may always beexpected to follow. The finding of more dead, the unravelling of amysterious origin, the re-statement of the loss, and the presentcondition of the injured are some of the possibilities that a rewriteman considers when he tries to prepare a follow-up story on a fire. TheWashington Place fire in New York on March 25, 1911, furnished admirablematerial for the study of the rewriting of fire stories. The fireoccurred on Saturday afternoon too late for anything but the Sundayeditions. The original story as it appeared in the Sunday papers and theMonday issues, of papers which had no Sunday editions, began like this:

 | One hundred and forty-one persons are | |dead as a result of a fire which on | |Saturday afternoon swept the three upper | |floors of the factory loft building at | |the northwest corner of Washington place | |and Greene street. More than | |three-quarters of this number are women | |and girls, who were employed in the | |Triangle Shirt Waist factory, where the | |fire originated. --_Boston Transcript, | |Monday. _ |

The Monday stories on the fire followed up various phases as shown inthe following. Each one while indicating that the story was a follow-upretold the principal incidents in the fire. 

 | The death list in the Washington place | |and Greene street fire was swelled today | |to 145, a majority of the victims being | |young girls. --_Monday morning--second | |story. _ |

 | At dawn today it was estimated that | |25, 000 persons had visited the temporary | |morgue on the covered pier at the foot of| |East Twenty-sixth street, set aside to | |receive the bodies of those who perished | |in the Washington place fire on Saturday | |afternoon. --_Monday morning--second | |story. _ |

 | The horror of the fire in the ten-story| |loft building at Washington place and | |Greene street late Saturday afternoon, | |with its heavy toll of human lives, grows| |blacker each succeeding hour. --_Monday | |afternoon. _ |

 | Of the 142 bodies in the morgue as a | |result of the Triangle Shirt Waist | |factory fire, all but fifty had been | |identified this morning. --_Monday | |afternoon. _ |

On Tuesday other lines opened up for the rewrite man:

 | Sifting down the great mass of | |testimony at their disposal, city and | |county officials hoped today to draw | |closer to the source of responsibility | |for Saturday's factory fire horror in | |which 142 persons lost their lives. | |Investigations started | |yesterday. --_Tuesday afternoon. _ |

 | With all but twenty-eight of the | |victims of the Triangle Shirt Waist | |factory horror identified, District | |Attorney Whitman continues steadily | |compiling evidence. Funerals for scores | |of victims are being held today, while | |the relief fund, etc. --_Tuesday | |afternoon. _ |

 | Borough President McAneny of Manhattan, | |the district attorney's staff, the fire | |marshal, the coroner and the state labor | |department are bending every energy | |toward fixing the blame for the loss of | |the 142 lives in the, etc. --_Tuesday | |afternoon. _ |

 | Union labor, horrified by the full | |realization that the waste of human life | |in the Triangle Waist factory fire might | |have been saved had existing laws been | |enforced, today arranged for a monster | |demonstration of protest, etc. --_Tuesday | |afternoon. _ |

And so the stories ran for many days until newspaper readers had lostall interest in the fire. Most of the stories were simply retellings ofthe original story with a new bit of information in the lead. Peoplewere ravenous for more details about the fire and the follow storiessupplied them until they were satisfied. Rarely is a fire worth so manyretellings. 

A serious accident is often followed up in one or more editions. If manypeople are killed or injured, the revised list of dead or the presentcondition of the injured always furnishes material for a follow-up. Sometimes the fixing of the blame, as in a railroad accident, or otherresulting features are used as the basis of the rewriting. 

In the case of a robbery the commonest material for a follow-up story isthe resulting pursuit or capture. Very often a final report of the loss, the present condition of a robbed bank or public institution, or perhapsthe regaining of the booty, makes a feature for a new story. But usuallythe follow-up is concerned with the pursuit, capture, or trial. This isespecially true if the original story has been told by an earlier paperand another later paper wishes to print a more up-to-date story on therobbery, such as:

 | MINOCQUA, Wis. , Oct. 22. --It now begins| |to look as if the bandits who robbed the | |State Bank of Minocqua early Tuesday | |morning would make their escape with the | |booty. (This is followed by a re-telling | |of the entire story of the robbery and an| |account of the pursuit. ) |

The most usual follow-up of a murder story is interested in the pursuit, capture, or trial of the perpetrator of the deed. For example:

 | Following the discovery of the body of | |Pietro Barilla, an Italian, of Woodhaven, | |Long Island, who was stabbed to death by | |four men, presumably Black Hand members, | |in Lincoln Road, near Flatbush, early | |yesterday morning, the police arrested | |three men yesterday. |

Very often the present condition of the victim of an attempted murdercalls for a new story. The stories following the attempted murder ofMayor Gaynor of New York are good examples of the latter. If a mysterysurrounds the crime a possible solution is grounds for a new story. Thestories which might follow the unraveling of the mystery surrounding thefictitious death of the grocer, mentioned at the beginning of thischapter, would be second-day murder stories. The original story, let ussay, was something like this:

 | James White, a groceryman, was found | |dying yesterday with a bullet wound in | |his abdomen, in the cellar of his grocery| |store at 1236 Park street. |

The next story on the murder would be concerned with the unraveling ofthe mystery, thus:

 | The preliminary inquiry yesterday by | |Coroner John F. Donalds, into the | |mysterious death of James White, the Park| |street grocer, resulted in the conclusion| |that White was murdered. |

And so the stories might run on day after day following the solution ofthe case like the succeeding chapters of a continued novel, and each onegives the synopsis of the preceding chapters in its lead, as every goodfollow-up story should do. 

Suicide stories seldom offer material for follow-up stories unless thereis some mystery surrounding the case. Sometimes the present condition ofa resuscitated victim of attempted suicide or the disposition of theestate of a suicide offers material for rewriting. 

Serious storms and floods are usually followed up for several days. Readers are always interested in the present condition of the devastatedregion. Very often the list of dead and injured is revised from day today, and any attempt to lend aid to the unfortunate victims is always areason for a later story. 

Any meetings, conferences, trials, conventions, or the like must befollowed up day by day with succeeding stories. Each story is completein itself, but each one adds one more chapter to the report of themeeting. This method of following a continued proceeding calls for aseries of follow-up stories; examples of the stories that follow acontinued legal trial will be given later under Court Reporting. 

 * * * * *

Many other illustrations might be given of follow-up stories that appeardaily in the newspapers. In the last analysis, the follow-up or therewrite story is nothing more than an ordinary news story, and as suchmust be written in the same way. It begins with a lead which plays up afeature and answers the reader's questions about the subject; the bodyof the story runs along like the body of any news story. But it isdifferent in being a later chapter of a previous account; while completein itself, it must not only indicate the previous story, but must tellits most important facts for readers who may have missed the previousstory. It is simply a news story which is tied to a previous story by astring of cause and effect. 

=4. Following Up Related Subjects. =--In this connection it may be wellto mention another kind of follow-up story that is usually written inconnection with big news events. It is written to develop and follow upside lines of interest growing out of the main story. In its most usualform it is a statistical summary of events similar to the great event ofthe day--such as similar fires, similar railroad wrecks, etc. , in thepast. Any big story attracts so much attention among newspaper readersthat the facts at hand are usually not sufficient to supply the public'sdemand for information on the subject. To satisfy these demands editorsdevelop lines of interest growing out of the main event. They interviewpeople concerning the event and concerning similar events; they describesimilar events that have taken place in the past; they summarize andcompare similar events in the past--in short, they follow up every lineof interest opened up by the big story and write stories on the result. These stories are of the nature of follow-up stories in that they growout of, and develop, the main story in its greatest extent. 

For example, the wreck of the ocean liner _Titanic_ called forinnumerable side stories because the public's interest demanded morefacts than the newspapers had at hand to supply. Hence, the papers wroteup similar shipwrecks in the past, gathered together summaries of theworld's greatest shipwrecks, interviewed people who had been in any wayconnected with shipwrecks or with any phase of this shipwreck, describedglaciers and icebergs, estimated the depth of the ocean where the_Titanic_ sank, described the White Star liner and other liners, pictured real or imaginary shipwrecks, and developed every other relatedsubject. The real news in all this mass of material was very meager, butthe related stories satisfied the greedy public and helped newspaperreaders to understand and to picture the real significance of the meagernews. 

In the same way a disastrous fire, like the burning of the IroquoisTheater, calls for innumerable outgrowing stories. Even when the eventreported in the main news story is not sufficiently important to callfor related stories, it is often accompanied by a list (usually put in abox at the head of the story) of other similar events and their results. These follow-up stories of related subjects are, in form, very much likefeature stories, although they usually conform to the follow-up idea ofmentioning in their leads the main news event to which they arerelated. 

X

REPORTS OF SPEECHES

Every profession has its disagreeable tasks; journalism has perhaps moredisagreeable tasks than any other profession. All of a reporter's workis not concerned with running down thrilling stories and writing them upin a whirl of breathless interest. Our readers demand other kinds ofnews, and it is the reporter's task to satisfy them faithfully. There isprobably no phase of the work that is quite so irksome as the reportingof speeches, lectures, sermons, etc. , and there is probably no phase ofthe work about which most reporters have fewer definite rules or ideas. Read the reports of the same speech in two different papers and note thedifference. They seldom contain the same things and more seldom do theytell what the speaker said, in the way and the spirit in which he saidit. It is irksome work and difficult work to condense an hour's talkinto three stickfuls, and few reporters know exactly how to go aboutit. 

The report of a speech or a sermon or a lecture may come to a newspaperoffice in one of two ways. A copy of it may be sent to the paper or thereporter may have to go to hear the address and take notes on it. Veryoften the speaker kindly sends a printed or typewritten copy of hisspeech to the editor a few days in advance with the permission torelease it--or print it--on a certain date, after the speech has beendelivered in public. If the speech is to be printed in full, the task isa mere matter of editing and does not trouble the reporter. Very fewspeeches receive so much space. The others must be condensed and put inshape for printing. 

After all, the usual way to get a speech is to go to the public deliveryof the speech and bring back a report of it. At first sight this is adifficult task and green reporters come back with a very poor resumé. However, a word or two of advice from the editor or some bitterexperience eases the way. Some advice may be given here to prepare thewould-be reporter beforehand. 

Some reporters who know shorthand prefer to make a stenographic reportof the entire speech and rearrange and condense it in the office. Thismethod is advisable only in the case of speeches of the greatestimportance; it is too laborious for ordinary purposes, since the accountincludes at most only a part of the speech. The best way, doubtless, toget a speech is to take notes on it. And yet this must be done properlyor there is a danger of misinterpretation of statements or of undueemphasis upon any single part of the speech. The report of a speechshould be as well balanced and logical as the speech itself, differingfrom the original only in length and the omission of details. The speechreport must be accurate and truthful or the speaker may appear at theoffice in a day or two with blood in his eye. A few rules may besuggested as an aid to accuracy and truthfulness. 

In the first place, do not try to get all the speech; do not try to getmore than a small part of it--the important part. There are two ways ofdoing this. If the speech is well arranged and orderly it is easy totell when the speaker has finished one sub-division and is beginninganother. Each division and subdivision will naturally contain a topicsentence. Watch for the topic sentences and get them down with thebriefest necessary explanation to make them clear. Political speeches orimpromptu talks are, on the other hand, not always so logicallyarranged. Sometimes it is possible to get the topic sentences, but moreoften it is not. Then watch for the interesting or striking statements. You will be aided in this by the audience about you. Whenever thespeaker says anything unusually striking or of more than ordinaryinterest the audience will show it by signs of assent or dissent. Watchfor these signs, even for applause--and take down the statement that wasthe cause. If the statement interested the original audience it willinterest your readers. Naturally, mere oratorical trivialities must notbe mistaken for striking statements. 

When you get back to the office to write up the report of the speech youwill feel the need of direct quotations--in fact, the length of yourreport will be determined by the number of direct quotations that youhave to use in it--as well as by editorial dictum. It would be entirelywrong to quote any expressions of your own because they are somewhatlike the speaker's statements, and it is impossible to quote anythingless than a complete sentence in the report of a speech. Hence you willneed complete sentences taken down verbatim in the exact words of thespeaker. Make it a point to get complete sentences as you listen to thespeech. Whenever a striking statement or an interesting part of thespeech seems worth putting in your story get it down completely. Youwill find yourself writing most of the time because, while you arewriting down one important sentence, the speaker will be utteringseveral more in explanation and may say something else of interestbefore you have finished writing down his first statement. Strictattention, a quick pencil, and a good memory are needed for this kind ofwork, but the reporting of speeches will lose its terrors after you havehad a very small amount of practice. 

Just as any news story begins with a lead and plays up its most strikingfact in the first line, the report of a speech usually begins with thespeaker's most striking or most important statement. As you arelistening to his words watch for something striking for thelead--something that will catch the reader's eye and interest him. Butyou must exercise great care in selecting the statement for the lead. Theoretically and practically it must be something in strict accordancewith the entire content of the speech and, if possible, it should be theone statement that sums up the whole speech in the most concise way. Somewhere in the discourse, at the beginning, at the end, or in someemphatic place, the speaker will usually sum up his complete ideas onthe subject in a striking, concise way. Watch for this summary and getit down for the lead. However, there may be times when this summary, though concise, will be of little interest to the average reader and youwill be forced to use some other striking statement. Then it isperfectly permissible to take any striking statement in the speech anduse it for the lead, provided that the statement is directly connectedwith the rest of the discourse. But be fair to the speaker. Do not playup some chance remark as illustrative of the entire utterance; don'tbring in an aside as the most interesting thing in his speech. If apreacher forgets himself to the extent of expressing a chance politicalopinion, it would obviously be unfair to him for you to play up thatremark as the summary of his sermon. Your readers would get a falseimpression and the preacher would be angry. If he considers the chanceremark of real importance in his sermon he will back it up with otherstatements that will give you an excuse for using it. In brief, watchfor the most interesting and most striking statement in the entirespeech, and in selecting this statement be fair and just and try toavoid giving a false impression of the speaker or of the speech. If youfollow this rule you will never be in any danger of getting your paperinto difficulties. 

Another rule in reporting lectures, speeches, etc. , applies to thewriting of all newspaper stories. Write your report at once while thespeech is still fresh in your mind. Your report must preserve the logicand continuity of the speech--it must be a fair resumé. Your notes willbe at best mere jottings of chance sentences here and there. Do notallow them to get cold and lose their continuity. Write the report atonce. 

 * * * * *

The writing of the report of a speech, lecture, or sermon is the samewhether it is taken from a printed or stenographic copy of the discourseor from notes. It is perhaps easier to write from your notes because youhave the important parts of the speech picked out, ready for use, by theaid of the rest of the audience. Before you can resumé a printed copy ofthe speech you must go through it and pick out the important sentenceswhich you wish to quote and decide upon the most striking statement forthe lead. There is no definite rule that can be followed in this exceptto take the topic sentences whenever they are stated with sufficientclearness. When you have decided on the statements that you wish toquote you have really reduced the speech to a form practically identicalwith the notes taken from verbal utterance, and the writing in eithercase is the same. 

The lead of the report is very much like the lead of any other newsstory--for the report of a speech is really a news story. As soon as thespeech is mentioned, the reader unconsciously asks a number of questionsabout it and the reporter must answer them in the first sentence. As inany other news story the questions are: _What?_ _Who?_ _Where?_ _When?_and perhaps _How?_ and _Why?_ Reduced to the case of the speech report, they amount to what did he say, who said it, where did he say it, when, and perhaps how and why did he say it. You may answer the _what_ bygiving the subject of the discourse or by giving a striking statement init. In every report the answer to some one of the questions is ofgreater interest and must be placed in the first line. If the speaker isof more than ordinary prominence his name makes a good beginning. If anordinary person makes a speech at some meeting of prominence the _when_or _where_ takes precedence over his name. But in most cases thereporter will find that none of these things is of sufficient importancefor the beginning. Most public utterances that he will be called upon toreport will be made by ordinary men in ordinary places and at ordinarytimes, and the most interesting part of the story will be what was said. Sometimes it suffices to give the title of the speech, but more often astriking statement from the speech makes the best beginning. However, although the speaker, the time, the place, etc. , are overshadowed inimportance by the subject or content of what the speaker says, they mustbe included in the same sentence with the title or striking statement. That is, in short, we catch the reader's interest with a strikingstatement from the speech and then delay the rest of the report while wetell who said it, when, where, etc. The necessity of this is obvious. 

In accordance with the foregoing there are several possible ways inwhich to begin the lead of the report of any speech. It would be wrongto say that any one is more common or better than the others; the choiceof the beginning must rest with the reporter. And yet there are variousthings to be noted in connection with each of these beginnings. 

=1. Direct Quotation Beginning. --Sentence. =--The quotation that is tohave the first line must of course be the most striking or the mostinteresting statement in the speech. If it consists of a singlesentence--and it cannot be less than a sentence--the report may beginthus:

 | "Participation in government is not | |only the privilege, but the right, of | |every American citizen and should be | |considered a duty, " said the Rev. | |Frederick W. Hamilton, president of Tufts| |College, who spoke on "The Political | |Duties of the American Citizen" at the | |monthly men's neighborhood meeting in the| |Roxbury Neighborhood House last | |night. --_Boston Herald. _ |

Here the reporter has given us a sentence that is practically a summaryof the speech, has told us who said it, when and where, and hascompleted the paragraph with the title of the speech. Sometimes thetitle of the speech is not of great importance and its place in the leadmay be given to a little summary as in the following:

 | "The modern man isn't afraid of hell, " | |was the concise explanation which W. | |Lathrop Meaker gave in Franklin Union | |Hall yesterday afternoon and evening of | |the fact that the churches are losing | |their grip on the average man. --_New York| |Sun. _ |

A question which embodies the content of a speech may often be quoted atthe beginning; thus:

 | "Will the Baptist church continue to | |maintain an attitude of timidity when | |John D. Rockefeller of Standard Oil is | |mentioned?" asked the Rev. R. A. Bateman, | |from East Jaffrey, N. H. , of the | |ministers assembled in Ford Hall last | |evening at the New England Baptist | |conference. --_Boston Herald. _ |

The opening quotation may sometimes be made an excuse for a briefdescription of the speaker or his gestures as in the following. This isgood at times but it may easily be overworked or become "yellow" intone. 

 | "There is no fire escape, " remarked | |Gypsy Smith, the famous English | |evangelist, yesterday before the | |fashionable audience of the Fifth Avenue | |Baptist Church. He held aloft a Bible as | |he made this declaration during an | |eloquent sermon on the possibility of | |losing faith and wandering from the | |narrow way. --_New York World. _ |

=2. Direct Quotation Beginning. --Paragraph. =--You notice that in each ofthe foregoing the quoted sentence is incorporated grammatically into thefirst sentence of the lead. It is followed by a comma and the words"said Mr. ----, " "was the statement of ----, " "declared Mr. ----, " etc. This construction is possible only when the quoted sentence is short andsimple. When it is long or complex, it is well to paragraph itseparately and to put the explanations in a separate paragraph, thus:

 | "If the United States had possessed in | |1898 a single dirigible balloon, even of | |the size of the one now at Fort Myer, | |Virginia, which cost less than $10, 000, | |the American army and navy would not have| |long remained in doubt of the presence of| |Cervera's fleet in Santiago harbor. " | | | |This statement was made today by Major | |G. O. Squier, assistant chief signal | |officer of the army, in an address on | |aëronautics delivered before the American| |Society of Mechanical Engineers at 29 | |West Thirty-ninth street. --_New York | | Mail. _ |

This same construction must _always_ be used when the statement quotedin the lead consists of more than one sentence, as in the following:

 | "The climate of Wisconsin is as good | |for recovery from tuberculosis as that of| |any state in the union. It is not the | |climate, but the out-of-doors air that | |works the cure. " | | | |So said Harvey Dee Brown in his | |tuberculosis crusade lecture in Kilbourn | |park last night. --_Milwaukee Free Press. _|

It is to be noted that the statement quoted in the lead is never splitinto two parts, separated by explanation. The quotation is alwaysgathered together at the beginning and followed by the explanation. 

=3. Indirect Quotation Beginning. =--This method is best adapted to theplaying up of a brief resumé of the content of the speech. It issometimes called the "_that_-clause beginning" because it always beginswith a _that_-clause which is the subject of the principal verb of thesentence--"was the statement of, " "was the declaration of, " etc. The_that_-clause may contain a resumé of the entire speech or only the moststriking statement in it. Here is one of the latter:

 | That the cruise of the battleship fleet| |around the world has taught the citizens | |of the United States that a powerful | |fleet is needed in the Pacific was the | |statement of Rear Admiral R. C. Hollyday, | |chief of the bureau of yards and docks of| |the navy, at a luncheon given to him by | |the board of trustees of the Chamber of | |Commerce at the Fairmont Hotel | |yesterday. --_San Francisco Examiner. _ |

It is not always necessary to use the phrase "was the statement of. " Avariation from it is often very good:

 | That it is the urgent mission of the | |white people of America, through their | |churches and Sunday-schools, to educate | |the American negro morally and | |religiously, was the sentiment of the | |twelfth session of the International | |Sunday-school Convention last night, | |voiced with special power and eloquence | |by Dr. Booker T. Washington, the chief | |speaker of the evening. --_Louisville | |Courier-Journal. _ |

 | That the Irish race has a great destiny| |to fulfill, one greater than it has | |achieved in its glorious past, was the | |prophecy of Prof. Charles Johnston of | |Dublin university in his lecture at the | |city library Sunday | |afternoon. --_Wisconsin State Journal. _ |

It is perfectly good usage to begin such a lead with two _that_-clausesor even with three. The two clauses in this case are of course treatedas a singular subject and take a singular verb. It is usually best notto have more than three clauses at the beginning and even three must behandled with great care. Three clauses at the beginning, if at all long, bury the speaker's name too deeply and may become too complicated. Unless the clauses are very closely related in idea, it is usuallybetter not to use more than two. Naturally when more than one_that_-clause is used in the lead, all of the clauses must be gatheredtogether at the beginning; never should one precede and one follow theprincipal verb. Here is an example of good usage:

 | NEW YORK, Feb. 25. --That America is | |entering upon a new era of civic and | |business rectitude and that this is due | |to the awakening of the moral conscience | |of the whole people was the prophecy made| |here tonight by Governor Joseph W. Folk | |of Missouri. --_Chicago Record-Herald. _ |

=4. Summary Beginning. =--This is a less formal way of treating theindirect quotation beginning. It is simply a different grammaticalconstruction. Whereas in the _that_-clause beginning the principal verbof the sentence is outside the summary (e. G. , "That ... Was thestatement of"), in the summary beginning the principal verb of thesentence is the verb of the summary and the speaker is brought in bymeans of a modifying phrase; thus:

 | MINNEAPOLIS, Oct. 1. --Both the free | |trader and the stand-patter are back | |numbers, according to Senator Albert J. | |Beveridge of Indiana, who delivered a | |tariff speech here tonight. --_Milwaukee | |Free Press. _ |

 | Federal control of the capitalization | |of railroads is the solution of the | |railroad problem suggested by E. L. | |Phillipp, the well-known Milwaukee | |railroad expert, in the course of a | |speech at the third annual banquet of, | |etc. --_Milwaukee Free Press. _ |

The summary beginning may be handled in many different ways and allowsperhaps more grammatical liberty than any other beginning. The summarymay even be given a sentence by itself as in the following. This kind oftreatment may easily be overdone and should be handled with greatcaution:

 | If you have acute mania, it is the | |proper thing to take the music cure. Miss| |Jessie A. Fowler says so, and she knows. | |Miss Fowler discussed "Music | |Hygienically" before the "Rainy Daisies" | |at the Hotel Astor yesterday and | |prescribed musical treatment for various | |brands of mania. --_New York World. _ |

=5. Keynote Beginning. =--Very closely related to the summary beginningis the keynote beginning, in which the subject of the main verb is anindirect presentation of the content of the speech. Whereas the summarybeginning displays its resumé in a complete sentence, the keynotebeginning puts the content of the speech in a single noun and itsmodifiers. Thus:

 | The ideal state university was the | |theme of a speech delivered by, etc. |

 | The mission of the newspaper to tell | |the truth, to stand for high ideals, and | |to strive to have those ideals adopted by| |the public was the keynote of an address | |delivered by, etc. |

=6. Participial Beginning. =--This is less common than the other kinds ofindirect quotation beginnings but it is often very effective. Thesummary of the speech or the most striking statement is put into aparticipial phrase at the beginning and is made to modify the subject ofthe sentence (the speaker). It must of course be remembered that such aparticipial phrase can be used only to modify a noun, as an adjectivemodifies a noun, and can never be made the subject of a verb. Here is anexample of good use of this beginning:

 | Upholding the right of public criticism| |of the courts on the theory that there | |can be no impropriety in investigating | |any act of a public official, Judge | |Kennesaw M. Landis last night addressed | |the students of Marquette College of Law | |and many members of the Milwaukee | |bar. --_Milwaukee Free Press. _ |

Just as it is perfectly possible to begin an indirect quotation leadwith two _that_-clauses instead of one, it is also possible to use twoparticipial phrases in the participial beginning; as:

 | Pleading for justice and human | |affection in dealing with the delinquent | |child, and urging the vital need of | |legislation which shall enforce parental | |responsibility, Mrs. Nellie Duncan made | |an address yesterday which stirred the | |sympathies of an attentive audience in | |the First Presbyterian Church. --_San | |Francisco Examiner. _ |

Although the participial phrase usually gives the summary of the speech, not infrequently the participial construction is used to play up thename of the speech or some other fact and the summary comes after theprincipal verb of the lead; thus:

 | Paying tribute to the memory of | |President William McKinley last night at | |the Metropolitan Temple, where exercises | |were held to dedicate the McKinley | |memorial organ, Judge Taft told in detail| |of his commission to the Philippine | |service and his subsequent intimate | |connection with the President. --_New York| |Tribune. _ |

=7. Title Beginning. =--There are two reasons for beginning the report ofa public utterance with the speaker's subject or title. The title itselfmay be so broad that it makes a good summary of the speech, or it may beso striking in itself that it attracts interest at once. In thefollowing examples the title is really a summary of the speech:

 | NEW YORK, Dec. 15. --"The Compensation | |of Employes for Injuries Received While | |at Work" was taken by J. D. Beck, | |commissioner of labor of Wisconsin, as | |the theme of his address before the | |National Civic Federation here | |today. --_Milwaukee Free Press. _ |

 | "The Emmanuel Movement" was the subject| |of an address by Rabbi Stephen S. Wise of| |the Free Synagogue yesterday | |morning. --_New York Evening Post. _ |

In the following stories the reporter began with the title evidentlybecause it was so strikingly unusual and also because it was the titleof a strikingly unusual speech by an unusual man. This kind of titlebeginning is always very effective:

 | "Booze, or Get on the Water Wagon, " was| |the subject on which Rev. Billy Sunday, | |the baseball evangelist, addressed an | |audience of over 4, 000 persons at the | |Midland Chautauqua yesterday afternoon. | |For two hours Sunday fired volley after | |volley at the liquor traffic. --_Des | |Moines Capital. _ |

 | "If Christ Came to Milwaukee" was the | |subject of the Rev. Paul B. Jenkin's | |Sunday night in Immanuel Presbyterian | |Church. --_Milwaukee Sentinel. _ |

=8. Speaker Beginning. =--It is obvious that this is the easiestbeginning that may be used in the report of a speech. But just asobviously it is the beginning that should be least used. Just as inwriting news stories a green reporter always attempts to begin everylead with the name of some person involved, in reporting a publicdiscourse he has a strong desire to put the name of the speaker beforewhat the speaker said. But the same tests may be applied to both cases. Are our readers more interested in what a man does than in the manhimself; do our readers go to hear a given speaker because they wish tohear what he has to say or because they wish to hear _him_? Whenever thepublic is so interested in a man that it does not care what he says, then you may feel safe in beginning the report of what he says with hisname. This test may be altered, especially in smaller cities, byprevious interest in the speech; if the speech has been expected andlooked forward to with interest, then, no matter if the speaker is thePresident himself, his name is not as good news as what he has to say. Even if the lead does begin with the speaker's name, the reporterusually tries to bring a summary of the speech or the most strikingstatement into the first sentence after the name. For example:

 | Speaker Joseph G. Cannon placed himself| |on record last night in favor of a | |revision of the tariff in accordance with| |the promise of the Republican party | |platform and declared that so far as his | |vote was concerned he would see to it | |that the announced policy of revision | |would be written in the national laws as | |soon as possible. The words of the | |speaker came at a luncheon given to six | |rear admirals of the United States navy | |by Alexander H. Revell of Chicago in the | |Union League Club, at which the need of | |more battleships and increased efficiency| |of the fighting forces of the republic | |were the principal themes of discussion. |

This example was chosen because, while it is written in accordance withthe rules of the speaker beginning, it is obviously too long andcomplicated--over 110 words. It would be better to gather it togetherand condense it as in the following:

 | Chief Forester Gifford Pinchot opened | |the second day's session of the national | |conservation congress yesterday by an | |address in which he expressed his entire | |satisfaction and his confidence in the | |attitude of President Taft toward | |conservating the national | |resources. --_Milwaukee Sentinel. _ |

 | ST. PAUL, Minn. , Feb. 10. --Booker T. | |Washington of Tuskegee, Ala. , in an | |address at the People's Church tonight | |predicted that within two years the | |liquor traffic would be driven out of all| |the southern states but two. --_Milwaukee | |Sentinel. _ |

There are obviously other beginnings that cannot be classed under any ofthe above heads. Some of them, much like the "freak" leads that may beseen in many newspapers of the present day, may be called freebeginnings for want of a better name. These free beginnings are quiteeffective when properly handled but the novice must use them with fearand trembling. They may be witty or they may be sarcastic, but they areusually dangerous. The difference in the eight beginnings discussedabove is mainly one of grammatical construction; the same fundamentalideas govern them all. Their purpose is always to play up a strikingstatement or a summary of the speech report and to give at the veryoutset the necessary explanation concerning the speech. 

THE BODY OF THE REPORT

The body of the report of a speech is not so distinct from the lead asthe body of an ordinary news story. In the news story it is safe toassume that many readers will not go beyond the lead, but in the reportof a speech this is not so true. It is less possible to give the mainfacts in the lead of a speech report and the rest of the story is morenecessary. Hence it must be written with as great care as the lead. 

The body of the report should consist of direct quotation in so far aspossible. The reader is interested in what the speaker said and it isimpossible to make a summary in indirect discourse as convincing as theactual quotation of his words. Be sure that the quotations are thespeaker's exact words or very nearly his exact words, so that he cannotaccuse you of misquoting him. The spirit of his words must be in thequotation, anyway. 

In these quotations nothing less than a complete sentence should bequoted. Do not patch together sentences of indirect and directquotation, like the following--He said that some of us are prone to letthings be as they are, "because the philanthropic rich help in our timesof trouble and in sickness. " Such quotation is worse than no directquotation at all. Of course, this does not mean that one cannot add"said the speaker" to a direct quotation, but it means that "said thespeaker" can be added only to quotations that are complete sentences. Furthermore whenever it is necessary to bring in "said the speaker, " orsimilar expressions, they should be added at the end of the quotedsentence--the least emphatic part of a newspaper sentence. 

Obviously a condensed report of a speech can only quote sentences hereand there throughout the speech--the high spots of interest, as wecalled them before. These must not be quoted promiscuously anddisconnectedly. The original speech had a logical order and set forth alogical train of thought. These should be followed as far as possible inthe report. Bring in the quotations in their true order and fill thegaps between them with indirect discourse to knit them together and togive the report the coherence of the original speech. But do not carrythis indirect explanation to the extent of making your copy a report ofthe speech in indirect discourse with occasional bits of directquotation to illustrate. Remember that, after all, the direct quotationis the truly effective part of the speech. 

Whenever a paragraph contains both direct and indirect quotation, thedirect quotation should always precede the indirect. But it is muchbetter to paragraph the two kinds of quotation separately, making eachparagraph entirely of direct, or entirely of indirect, quotation. If aparagraph must contain both, begin it with the direct so that as thereader glances down the column he will see a quotation mark at thebeginnings of most, if not all, of the paragraphs. By the same sign, when your notes are lacking in direct quotations, bring in as many ofthe quotations as possible at the beginning of the report and let theindirect summary occupy the end where it may be cut off by the editor ifhe does not wish to run it. 

Here is a good illustration of a part of the body of a good speechreport--it is the second paragraph of one of the stories quoted underthe "Speaker" beginning above:

 | "I can not account for the moral | |revolution that is sweeping over the | |South, " he continued. "The sentiment | |against whisky is deeper than the mere | |desire to get it away from the black man. | |That same sentiment is found in counties | |that contain no negro population. People | |who say that the law will not be enforced| |have not been in the South. --B. T. | |Washington's speech, _Milwaukee | |Sentinel. _ |

You will notice that although the above paragraph is composed entirelyof direct quotation it has no quotation mark at the end. This is, ofcourse, in accordance with the old rule of rhetoric which says that in acontinuous quotation each paragraph shall begin with a quotation markbut only the last shall be closed by a quotation mark. 

To illustrate the errors that may be made in reporting speeches we mightwrite the above paragraph as follows:

 | Mr. Washington continued by saying that| |he could not account for the revolution | |that is sweeping over the South. "The | |sentiment against whisky is deeper than | |the mere desire to get it away from the | |black man. " He says that "the same | |sentiment is found in counties that | |contain no negro population. " People who | |say that the law will not be enforced | |"have not been in the South, " according | |to Booker T. Washington. |

The clumsiness of this mingling of direct and indirect quotation is veryclear, as is the weakness of beginning with an explanation that isreally subordinate. 

Much more could be said about the reporting of speeches. Very few thingswill make a man so angry as the misquoting of his words. Therefore, whatever other faults your report of a speech may have, let it beaccurate and truthful. 

XI

INTERVIEWS

If you compare any interview story with any speech report in anyrepresentative newspaper, you will readily see how a discussion ofinterviews easily becomes an explanation of the differences betweeninterview stories and speech-reports; that is, how the report of aninterview differs from the report of a public utterance of a more formalkind. There are few differences in the written reports. Each usuallybegins with a summary or a striking statement and consists largely ofdirect quotation. Were it not for the line or two of explanation at theend of the introduction, it would be practically impossible to tell theone from the other, to tell which of the reports sets forth statementsmade in a public discourse and which gives statements made in a moreprivate way to a reporter. 

The difference lies behind the report, in the way the reporter obtainedthe statements and quotations. And the whole difference depends upon theattitude of the man who made the statements--whether his words were aconscious or an unconscious public utterance. When a man speaks from aplatform he utters every sentence and every word with an idea ofpossible quotation--he is not only willing to be quoted but he wants tobe quoted. But when he speaks privately to a reporter he usually dreadsquotation. Of course, he expects that you will print a few of hisremarks but he is constantly hoping that you will not remember and printthem all. He speaks more guardedly, too, since he is not sure of theinterpretation that may be given to his words. Hence it is a verydifferent matter to report what a man says in public and to getstatements for the press from him in private. Any one can report aspeech but great skill is required to get a good interview--especiallyif the victim is unwilling to talk. 

The first matter that a reporter has to consider is the means ofretaining the statements until he is able to write his story. It is asimple matter to get quotations from a speech because it is possible tosit anywhere in the audience and write down the speaker's words in anotebook as they are uttered. But the notebook must be left behind whenyou try to interview. When a man is not used to being interviewednothing will make him reticent so quickly as the appearance of anotebook and pencil; he realizes that his words are to appear in printjust as he utters them and he immediately becomes frightened. Ordinarilyso long as he feels that what he says is going into the confidential earof the reporter--and out of the other ear just as quickly--he is willingto talk more freely and openly and to say exactly what he thinks. This, of course, does not apply to prominent men who are used to beinginterviewed and prefer to have their remarks taken down verbatim. Suchan interview, however, is little more than a call to secure a statementfor publication. 

It might be well to settle the notebook question here and now when itassumes the greatest importance. The stage has hardened us to seeing areporter slinking around the outskirts of every bit of excitementwriting excitedly and hurriedly in a large leather notebook. So hardenedare we to the sight that some new reporters buy a notebook just as soonas they get a place on a newspaper staff. But real reporters on realnewspapers do not use notebooks. A few sheets of folded copy paperhidden carefully in an inside pocket ready for names and addresses andperhaps figures are all that most of them carry. Many people dreadpublicity and the appearance of a notebook frightens them into silencemore quickly than the actual appearance of a representative of thepress. This is true in the reporting of any bit of news, in the coveringof any story--and it is ordinarily true in interviewing for statementsthat are to be quoted. Of course, an exception to this must be made inthe case of some prominent men who prefer to issue signed writtenstatements when they are interviewed. 

The impossibility of using a notebook or writing down a man's words inan interview seriously complicates the task of interviewing. Somereporters train themselves until they are able to remember theirvictim's words long enough to get outside and write them down. Othersare satisfied with getting the ideas and the spirit of what is saidtogether with the man's manner of talking. A few characteristicmannerisms thrown in with a true report of his ideas will make anyspeaker believe that you have quoted him exactly. Whichever method ispursued, the reporter must always be fair and try to tell the readers ofthe paper the man's true ideas. The exigencies of the case give thereporter greater liberty than in quoting from a speech but he must notabuse his liberty. 

The success of an interview depends very largely upon the way in which areporter approaches the man whom he wishes to interview. It is neverwell to trust to the inspiration of the moment to start theconversation. The reporter must know exactly what he wishes to have theman say before he approaches him and must already have framed hisquestions so as to draw out the answers that he wishes. People are neverinterviewed except for a purpose and that purpose should suggest thereporter's first question. No matter how willing the man is to tell whathe thinks he will seldom begin talking until the reporter asks him adefinite question to help him in putting his thoughts into words. All ofthis should be considered beforehand. The reporter should have outlineda definite campaign and have a series of questions which he wishes toask. If he has written the questions out beforehand, the task becomes aneasier one--he merely fills in the answers on his list later and has theinterview in better form than if he had tried to trust entirely to hismemory. To be sure, the questions may open up unexpected lines ofthought and he may get more than he went for, but he must have hisquestions ready for use as soon as each new line is exhausted. A skilledreporter frames the interview himself and keeps the result entirely inhis own hands through the campaign that he has outlined beforehand. Unless he knows exactly what he wants to get, a wary victim may lead himoff upon unimportant facts and in the end tell him nothing that hispaper has sent him to get. A reporter must keep the reins of aninterview in his own possession. 

A good reporter takes great care in his manner of addressing a man whomhe is to interview. A well-known newspaper follows the rule of askingits reporters never to do what a gentleman would not do. A reporter whois trying to interview must always be a gentleman and must not askquestions that a gentleman would not ask. If the victim is a prominentman of great personality it is not hard to follow this rule--in fact, itis impossible to get the interview by any other method of approach. Butwhen one is trying to interview a person of humbler station, the case isdifferent. It is very easy then to fall into a habit of demandinginformation and turning the interview into an inquisition. But thereporter who keeps his attitude as a gentleman gets more real facts evenwhen his victim is of the most humble social status. Therefore, neverapproach your victim as if he were a witness and you a cross-questioninglawyer. Do not say: "See here, you know more about it than that, " andthus try to force unwilling information from him. Go at him in a moreround-about way and lead him to give you the facts unwittingly perhaps. 

A young reporter often feels an impulse to become too personal with theman whom he is interviewing. He must always remember that he is notthere for a friendly chat but as a representative of a newspaper, sentto get concise facts or opinions. This attitude must be maintained evenwith the humblest persons. Any desire to sympathize, criticize, oradvise must be checked at the very start. The point of view must alwaysbe kept. 

 * * * * *

Although the main difference between writing interview stories andreporting speeches lies in the very act of getting the quotations andwords of the speaker, there are certain aspects in which the writing ofan interview story is different. The actual form of the two stories isalmost identical and yet there is a tone in the interview story that islacking in the report of a speech. This may be called the personal tone. 

The very name of the speaker obviously plays a much larger part in theinterview story than in the speech report. We may be more interested inwhat a man says in a public discourse than we are in the man, but whenwe interview a man we want his opinions not for themselves so much asbecause they are his opinions. An interview with the President on thetariff is not necessarily interesting in the new ideas that it bringsout, for we have many other ways of knowing the President's opinions onthe tariff question; but the interview is worth printing because everyone is interested in reading anything that the President says, althoughhe may have read the same thing many times before. A man is seldominterviewed unless he is of some prominence--that is why he isinterviewed, and so in the resulting story his name plays a veryimportant part. In fact, his name is usually the feature of the story;most interview stories begin directly with the name of the man whosestatements are quoted. 

Although a man may be interviewed simply because of his prominence andpopularity, there is usually another reason for the interview. We areinterested not only in hearing him say something but we wish to hear himsay something on a certain topic. The interview thus has a timeliness, areason for existence. Since this timeliness is the reason for printing acertain man's statements, the reporter's account must indicate thattimeliness near the beginning. That is, the first sentence of aninterview story must not only tell who was interviewed and the gist ofwhat he said, but it must tell why he said it. The interview must beconnected with the rest of the day's news. This comes out verydefinitely in the custom which many newspapers have of printing theopinions of many prominent men in connection with any important event. Perhaps it is because we wish to know their opinions on the subject orperhaps it is simply because we are glad to have a chance to hear themtalk--at any rate many editors make any great event an excuse for aseries of interviews. This is illustrated by the opinions of the variouslabor leaders that were printed with the story of the recent confessionof the McNamara brothers. In such a case, the reporter must make thereason for the interview his starting point in the report and mustindicate very plainly why the man was interviewed. 

This idea of timeliness is very often carried to the extent of makingthe interview merely a denial or an assertion from the mouth of awell-known man. There may be an upheaval in Wall Street. Immediately thepapers print an interview in which some prominent financier denies orasserts that he is at the bottom of the upheaval. Naturally the reportof the interview begins with the very words of the denial or theassertion. Very often a man when interviewed refuses to say anything onthe subject. The fact that he has nothing to say does not mean that theinterview is not worth reporting. In fact, that refusal to speak may bethe most effective thing that he could say. The reporter begins bytelling that his man had nothing to say on the subject and ends bytelling what he should have said or what his refusal to speak probablymeans, --if the paper is not too scrupulous in such matters. At any rate, the denial or assertion or refusal to speak becomes the starting pointof the report and furnishes the excuse for the interview story. Theexpanded remarks that follow the lead are of course important but theyare not so important as the primary expression of opinion that thereporter went for. 

The personal element in interviewing may be carried to an extremeextent. The man who is interviewed may so far overshadow the importanceof what he says that the report of the interview becomes almost a sketchof the man himself. That is, the report is filled with human interest. The quotations are interspersed with action and description. We are toldhow the man acted when he said each individual thing. His appearance, attitude, expression, and surroundings become as important as his wordsand are brought into the report as vividly as possible. Such aninterview may become almost large enough to be used as a special featurestory for the Sunday edition, but when the human interest is limited toa comparatively subordinate position the report still keeps itscharacter as an interview news story. Such a thing may be illustratedfrom the daily press:

 | "I would rather have four battleships | |and need only two than to have two and | |need four. " | | | | Seated in the cool library of Colonel | |A. K. McClure's summer home at | |Wallingford, Rear Admiral Winfield Scott | |Schley, retired, thus expressed himself | |yesterday on the need of a larger and | |greater navy. |

After all has been said about interviewing, the one thing that areporter must remember is that an interview story is at best rather dryand everything that he can do to increase the interest will improve theinterview. But all of this must be done with absolute fairness to thespeaker and great truthfulness in the quotation of his ideas andopinions. 

 * * * * *

To come to the technical form of the interview story, we find that thereare very nearly as many possible beginnings as in the case of the reportof a speech. The interview story must begin with a lead that tells whowas interviewed, when, and where, what he said (in a quotation or anindirect summary), and why he was interviewed. This is like the lead ofa speech report in every particular except in the timeliness--theoccasion for a speech is seldom mentioned in the lead, but a reporterusually tells at once why he interviewed the man whose words he quotes. 

=1. Speaker Beginning. =--The very purpose behind interviewing makes theso-called speaker beginning most common. It is almost an invariable rulethat the report of an interview must begin with the man's name unlesswhat he says is of greater importance than his name--which is seldom. 

The simplest form of the speaker beginning is the one in which thespeaker's name is followed directly by a summary of what he said, as:

 | Dr. David Starr Jordan, president of | |Leland Stanford Junior University, said | |yesterday at the Holland House that in | |the development of American universities | |educators must separate the lower two | |classes from the upper two, the present | |freshman and sophomore classes to be | |absorbed by small colleges or | |supplemental high schools, making the | |junior year the first in the university | |training. He said the universities should | |receive only men, not boys. --_New York | |Tribune. _ |

Another kind of speaker beginning may devote most of the lead to theexplanation of the reason for the interview, giving the briefestpossible summary of what was said: Thus:

 | Director Lang of the department of | |public safety is going to place a ban on | |the playing of tennis on Sunday. He | |doesn't know just yet how he is going to | |accomplish this, but yesterday he | |declared that he would find some law | |applicable to the case. --_Pittsburgh | |Gazette-Times. _ |

One step further brings us to the entire exclusion of the result of theinterview from the lead. In this case the reason for the interviewoccupies the entire lead and we must read part of the second paragraphto find what the man said; thus:

 | Charles F. Washburn, Richmond Hill's | |wizard of finance, promises to appear at | |his broker's office in Newark, N. J. , | |this morning with a fresh bank roll, | |accumulated since the close of the market| |on Saturday. | | | | (The second paragraph tells what it is | |all about and the third quotes his | |words. )--_New York World. _ |

It is to be noted that in each of the above leads the speaker's name isalways accompanied by a word or two telling who he is and why he wasinterviewed. Furthermore the reporter himself has no more place in thelead than if he were reporting a speech--his existence and the part heplayed in getting the interview are strictly ignored. 

=2. Summary Beginning. =--There are two common ways of beginning aninterview story with a summary. First, the lead may begin with a_that_-clause which embodies the gist of the interview; this is like the_that_-clause beginning of the report of a speech; thus:

 | That the apparent apathy among the | |voters of the country is merely | |contentment with the present | |administration of affairs by the | |Republican party is the contention of | |ex-Senator John M. Thurston of Nebraska. | |Mr. Thurston was at Republican national | |headquarters today, etc. --_New York | |Evening Post. _ |

Secondly the summary beginning is used in the case of an interview thatis a denial or an assertion by the man interviewed. The lead begins witha clause or a participial phrase embodying the substance of theinterview, and the name of the speaker is made the subject of a verb ofdenying or asserting; thus:

 | Declaring that his office is run as | |economically as possible, Sheriff H. E. | |Franke denied on Sunday that he had | |expended more than $688 for auto hire to | |collect $1, 409. 28 of alleged taxes. | | | | (The second paragraph begins with a | |direct quotation. )--_Milwaukee Sentinel. _| | Although he had sharply criticised | |Roosevelt's special message condemning | |some of the uses to which the possessors | |of large fortunes are putting their | |wealth, President Jacob Gould Schurman, | |Cornell University, declined to discuss | |Roosevelt or his policies in Milwaukee | |yesterday. He said that he was not | |talking politics. | | | | (The rest of the report is a quotation | |of his views on college | |athletics. )--_Milwaukee Free Press. _ |

=3. Quotation Beginning. =--Many reports of interviews begin with adirect quotation. The logic of this is that the expression of opinionis, in some cases, of more interest than the name of the man whoexpressed the opinion. Sometimes the name of the speaker is notconsidered worth mentioning and in that case a direct quotation is theonly advisable beginning; thus:

 | "With the prices of food for hogs and | |cattle going up, it is natural that the | |food--beef and pork--for us humans should| |keep pace. " | | | | This was the logic of an east-side | |butcher who discussed the probable rise | |in the prices of meat. --_Milwaukee Free | |Press. _ |

Sometimes a short quotation is used at the beginning of the lead verymuch as a title is used in a speech report; thus:

 | NEW YORK, June 1. --"A business | |proposition which should have been put in| |effect nearly twenty years ago, " was John| |Wanamaker's comment today on the adoption| |of 2-cent letter postage between the | |United States and Great Britain and | |Ireland. --_Milwaukee Free Press. _ |

If the quotation at the beginning consists of only one sentence the nameof the speaker may be run into the same paragraph; thus:

 | "Judge McPherson's recent decision | |declaring Missouri's 2-cent fare | |confiscatory is an indication that vested| |interests are entitled to some protection| |and that legislatures must not go too far| |in regulating them, " said Sir Thomas | |Shaughnessy, president of the Canadian | |Pacific road, on Sunday. --_Milwaukee | |Sentinel. _ |

However if the quotation at the beginning contains more than onesentence it is best to paragraph the quotation separately and leave thename of the speaker until the second paragraph; thus:

 | "The American Federation of Labor will | |enter the national campaign by seeking to| |place labor candidates on the tickets of | |the old parties. An independent labor | |party is eventually contemplated. But | |there is not time to get results in that | |way in the next national campaign. " | | | | So said H. C. Raasch, national | |president of the tile-layers, upon his | |return yesterday, etc. --_Milwaukee Free | |Press. _ |

=4. Human Interest Beginning. =--This is a designation devised to cover amultitude of beginnings. A human interest interview may begin with aquotation, a summary, a name, or an action. The aim is necessarilytoward unconventionality and the form of the lead is left to theoriginality of the reporter. A few examples may illustrate what is meantby the human interest beginning:

 | "There goes another string. Drat those | |strings!" Only Joseph Caluder didn't say | |"Drat. " | | | | "Say, do you know that I have spent | |pretty nearly $1, 000 for strings for that| |violin? Well, it's a fact. Listen. " | |Etc. --_Milwaukee Sentinel. _ |

 | Fire Marshal James Horan never bought a| |firecracker, but for many years he has | |celebrated Independence day in the thick | |of fires. He never owned a gun or | |revolver. His last prayer before trying | |to snatch a little needed sleep Friday | |night will be of the twofold form, | |etc. --_Chicago Post. _ |

After what has been said about the body of a speech report, there islittle more to be said about the body of an interview story. The samerules apply in both cases. The body of the report should contain as muchdirect quotation as possible. However nothing less than a sentenceshould be quoted--that is, every quotation should be a completesentence, with indirect explanation. Whenever "Said the speaker" or "Mr. Brown continued" or any similar expression is worked into the directquotation it should always be placed at the end of the sentence; neverbegin a quotation in this way:--Mr. Jones continued, "Furthermore Iwould say, etc. " In the same way, when a paragraph contains both directand indirect quotation, the direct quotation should be placed at thebeginning. Whenever it is possible, construct solid paragraphs ofquotation, and solid paragraphs of summary. The report as a whole musthave coherence and a logical sequence; for this a limited amount ofindirect quotation may be used to fill in the gaps in the logic of thedirect quotation. 

According to the usage of the best newspapers of to-day the reportermust never be brought into the report of an interview. His existencemust never be mentioned although every reader knows that some reportersecured the interview. In the old days reporters delighted in bringingthemselves into their stories as "representatives of the press" or "areporter for the Dispatch, " but that practice has gone the way of thereporter's leather-bound notebook. The interview may be toldsatisfactorily without a mention of the reporter; hence newspaper usagehas put a ban on his appearance in his story. 

GROUP INTERVIEWS

We have said that a man is seldom interviewed without a reason; there isalways a timeliness in interviewing. Any unusual event of broadimportance becomes an excuse for the editor to print the opinion of someprominent man on some phase of the event. Sometimes the event is of suchimportance that the editor wishes to print the opinions of several menon the subject; or more than one prominent man may be involved in theaffair and the public may wish to hear the opinions of every oneinvolved. In such a case when several men are interviewed in regard tothe same event it is considered rather useless and ineffective to printtheir interviews separately and the several interview stories aregathered together into one story and arranged in such a way that theymay be compared. There are several ways of doing this. 

If the case or event is very well known, a lead or summary of theseveral interviews is considered unnecessary and the words of thevarious men are grouped together under a single headline. This may beillustrated by the interviews that were printed after the confessions ofthe McNamara brothers of Los Angeles in the recent dynamiting case. The_Wisconsin State Journal_ may be taken as representative. This paperprinted the statements of twelve prominent men interested in the case ina three-column box under a long head; thus:

 | =Leaders Discuss the Case= | | | | Samuel Gompers, president American | |Federation of Labor--I am astounded; I am | |astounded; my credulity has been imposed | |upon. It is a bolt out of a clear sky. | | | | * * * * * | | | | John T. Smith, president Missouri | |Federation of Labor--I can not believe it. | |But if the McNamaras blew up the Times | |building they should be fully punished. | | | | * * * * * | | | | Gen. Harrison Grey Otis, publisher of | |the Times--The result may be and ought to | |be, etc. |

If the case had not been of such broad interest a lead embodying asummary of the interviews might have preceded the individual statements. It might have been done in this way:

 | Great surprise has been expressed by | |the prominent labor leaders of the | |country at the confession of the | |McNamara brothers in Los Angeles | |yesterday. That organized labor had no | |connection with the work of these men and | |that they should be fully punished is the | |consensus of opinion. | | | | Samuel Gompers, president American | |Federation of Labor--I am astounded; I am | |astounded; my credulity has been imposed | |upon. It is a bolt out of a clear sky. | | | | John T. Smith, president Missouri | |Federation of Labor--I can not believe it. | |Etc. |

In such a story as the above, the statements are usually printed withoutquotation marks; each paragraph begins with a man's name, followed by adash and what he said. The grouping together of several interviews isoften done less formally. The whole thing may be written as a runningstory, and sometimes the names of the persons interviewed are omitted;thus:

 | Proprietors of the big flower shops, | |the places from which blossoms are | |delivered in highly polished and ornate | |wagons, drawn by horses that might win | |blue ribbons, and where, in the proper | |season, a single rose costs three | |dollars, do not approve of the comments | |made by a dealer who recently failed. | |Among these sayings was one to the effect | |that young millionaires spend a thousand | |dollars a week on flowers for chorus | |girls who earn twelve dollars a week, and | |who sometimes take the flowers back to | |the shop to exchange them for money to | |buy food and clothes. | | | | "That's all nonsense, " said one dealer. | |(This paragraph is devoted to his opinion | |on the matter. ) | | | | "We have enough trouble in this | |business, " said another dealer, "without | |having this silly talk given to the | |public. " (This paragraph gives this | |dealer's opinion)--_New York Evening | |Post. _ |

(Each paragraph is devoted to a single interview. )

The same paragraph may be done with more local color as in thefollowing:

 | Chinatown feels deeply its bereavement | |in the deaths of the Empress Dowager and | |the Emperor of China. Chinatown mourns, | |but it does so in such an unobtrusive | |Oriental way that the casual visitor on | |sympathy bent may feel that his words of | |condolence would be misplaced. | | | | A reporter from this paper was assigned | |yesterday to go up to Chinatown and in as | |delicate a way as possible to gather some | |of the sentiments of appreciation of the | |merits of Kuang-hsu and his lamented aunt, | |Tzu-hsi. He was told that he might write a | |little about the picturesque though | |nevertheless sincere expressions of | |mourning that he might observe in Pell | |and Mott streets. | | | | Mr. Jaw Gum, senior partner in the firm | |of Jaw Gum & Co. , importers of cigars, | |cigarettes, dead duck's eggs and Chinese | |delicatessen, of 7 Pell street, was at | |home. Mr. Gum was approached. | | | | "We would like to learn a little about | |the arrangements that are being made by | |the Chinese to indicate their sorrow at | |the deaths of their beloved rulers. " | | | | "What number?" queried Mr. Gum. The | |question was repeated. | | | | "P'licyman, he know, " remarked Mr. Gum | |sagely. | | | | (So on for a column with interviews and | |statements from several of Mr. Gum's | |neighbors. )--_New York Sun. _ |

But this is very much like a human interest story--the reporter takespart in it--and we shall discuss that later. 

XII

COURT REPORTING

Probably few classes of news stories present such a lack of uniformityand such a variety of treatments as the reports of court news. Legalstories belong to one of the few sorts of stories that do not tend tobecome systematized. But there is a reason for almost everything in anewspaper and there is also a reason for the freedom that reporters areallowed in reporting testimony. The reason in this case is probably inthe fact that very rarely do two court stories possess the same sort ofinterest or the same news value. 

We have seen that reports of speeches are printed in the daily pressbecause our readers are interested in the content of the speech or inthe man who uttered it. In the same way, our readers are interested ininterviews because of the man who was interviewed, because of theircontent, or because of their bearing on some current event. On the otherhand there is an infinite number of reasons why a court story is worthprinting or why it may not be worth a line. Sometimes the interest isin the persons involved; sometimes in the significance of the decision. People may also be interested in a case because of its political orlegal significance or merely because of the sensational testimony thatis given. And again a very trivial case may be worth a large amount ofspace in the daily paper just because of its human interest--because ofthe pathos or humor that the reporter can bring into it. Thus theresulting reports are hard to classify. Each one depends on a differentfactor for its interest and each must be written in a different way sothat its individual interest may be most effective. However there aregeneral tendencies in the reporting of court news. 

The news itself is comparatively easy to get. In a large city everycourt is watched every day by a representative of the press, either areporter for an individual paper or for a city news gatheringassociation. In some cities where there is no independent news gatheringagency papers sometimes club together to keep one reporter at eachcourt. The man who is on duty must watch all day long for cases that areof interest for one reason or another. Even with all this safeguardingsometimes an important case slips by the papers; often the reporter onduty considers of little interest a case that is worth columns whensome paper digs into it. Every reporter however who is trying to docourt reporting should learn the ordinary routine of legal proceedings;for example, the place and purpose of the pleas, the direct and crossexamination of witnesses, and other legal business. 

As we shall see when we begin to write court reports, it is necessary toexercise every possible trick to put interest into the story. In theactual court room all that relieves the dreary monotony of legalproceedings is an occasional bit of interesting testimony. And when thereporter tries to report a case he sometimes finds that interestingtestimony is all that will lighten up the dull monotony of his story. Therefore while he is listening to a case he tries to get down verbatima large number of the interesting questions and answers. Or if he isunable to be present he tries to get hold of the court stenographer'srecord to copy out bits of testimony for his account. Beyond thisrecording of testimony there is really little difficulty in courtreporting except the difficulty of separating the interesting from thegreat mass of uninteresting matter. 

As to the actual writing of the report of a legal trial, the one thingthat the reporter must remember is that a case is seldom reported forthe public's interest in the case itself. There is usually some otherreason why the editor wants a half a column of it. That reason is thething that the reporter must watch for and when he finds it he must makeit the feature of his report to be embodied in the first line of thelead. 

When we try to play up the most interesting feature of a court report wefind that we must fall back upon the same beginnings that we used inreporting speeches and interviews. There are several possible ways ofbeginning such a story, depending upon the phase of the case or itstestimony that is of greatest importance. 

=1. Name Beginning. =--The proper name beginning is very common. It isalways used when any one of prominence is involved in the story or whenthe name, although unknown, can be made interesting in itself--as in ahuman interest story. The name is usually made the subject of the verbtestified, as in this lead:

 | A. F. Law, secretary of the Temple Iron | |Company, a subsidiary company of the | |Reading Coal and Iron Company, called | |before the government investigation of | |the alleged combination of coal carrying | |roads, testified today in the Federal | |building that four roads had contributed | |$488, 000 to make up the deficit of the | |Temple company during three years of coal | |strikes. --_New York Sun. _ |

The name of a well-known company often makes a good beginning:

 | The Standard Oil Company sent a | |sweeping broadside into the Government's | |case yesterday at the hearing in the suit | |seeking to dissolve the Standard Oil | |Company of New Jersey under the Sherman | |anti-trust law, when witnesses began to | |tell of the character of a number of men | |the Government had placed upon the | |witness stand. --_New York Times. _ |

The name of the judge himself may be used in the first line:

 | Judge Mulqueen of General Sessions | |explained today why he had sentenced two | |prisoners to "go home and serve time with | |the families. " This punishment was | |imposed yesterday when both men pleaded | |drunkenness as their excuse for trivial | |offenses. --_New York Evening Post. _ |

=2. Continued Case Beginning. =--Many court reports begin with the nameof the case when the case has been running for some time and is wellknown. Each individual story on such a case is just a continuation of asort of serial story that has been running for some time and in the leadeach day the reporter tries to summarize the progress that has beenmade in the case during the day's hearing. However each story, like afollow-up story, is written in such a way that a knowledge of previousstories is not necessary to a clear understanding:

 | The hearing yesterday in the | |Government's suit to dissolve the | |Standard Oil Company ended with a | |dramatic incident. Mr. Kellogg sought to | |show that the Standard compelled a widow, | |Mrs. Jones, of Mobile, Ala. , to sell out | |her little oil business at a ruinous | |sacrifice. --_New York World. _ |

In some cases this sort of a lead begins with the mere mention of thecontinuing of the trial:

 | At the opening of the defence today in | |the sugar trials before Judge Martin of | |the United States Circuit Court, James F. | |Bendernagal took the witness chair in his | |own behalf, etc. --_New York Evening | |Post. _ |

=3. Summary Beginning. =--The lead of a court report often begins with abrief summary of the result of the trial or of the day's hearing:

 | What the Government has characterized | |as "unfair competition and | |discrimination" on the part of the | |Standard Oil Company continued to be the | |subject of the investigation of that | |corporation today before Franklin Ferris | |of St. Louis, referee, in the Custom | |House. --_New York Evening Post. _ |

The summary may be presented in as formal a way as the _that_-clausebeginning which we used in reports of speeches:

 | That the Adams' Express Company's | |business in New England in 1909 yielded a | |profit representing 45 per cent. On the | |investment, including real estate and, | |excepting real estate, a net income of | |more than 83 per cent. , came out in the | |course of the hearing before the | |Interstate Commerce Commission, | |etc. --_New York Evening Post. _ |

=4. Direct Quotation Beginning. =--A direct quotation of some strikingstatement made by the judge, by a lawyer, by a witness, or by any oneconnected with the trial may be used at the beginning of the lead. Hereis a lead beginning with a quotation from the title of a case:

 | "Captain Dick and Captain Lewis, | |Indians, for and on behalf of the Yokayo | |tribe of Indians, vs. F. C. Albertson, T. | |J. Weldon, as administrator of the estate | |of Charley, Indian, deceased, Minnehaha, | |Ollagoola, Hiawatha, Wanahana, | |Pocahontas, etc. " | | | | So runs the title of as unusual a case | |as jurists, etc. --_San Francisco | |Examiner. _ |

=5. Human Interest Beginning. =--The human interest beginning is a moreor less free beginning which may be used in the reporting of ratherinsignificant cases which are of value only for the human interest inthem. The beginning is capable of almost any treatment so long as itbrings out the humor, beauty, or pathos of the situation. Sometimes thestory begins with a rather striking summary of the unusual things thatcame out in the testimony, as in this case:

 | How suddenly and how radically a woman | |can exercise her inalienable prerogative | |and change her mind is shown in the | |testamentary disposition made of her | |estate by Mrs. Jennie L. Ramsay. She made | |a will on July 4 last, at 3 o'clock in | |the afternoon, leaving her property to | |her husband, and at 7 o'clock in the | |evening of the same day she made another | |will in which she took the property away | |from her husband. --_New York Times. _ |

Here is an interesting illustration of the use of a trivial incident asthe basis for a humorous lead:

 | Bang, an English setter dog, accused of | |biting 11-year-old Sophie Kahn, made an | |excellent witness in the City Court today | |when his owner, Hirman L. Phelps, a real | |estate dealer of the Bronx, appeared as | |defendant in a damage suit brought by the | |girl for $2, 000. --_New York Evening | |Post. _ |

The lead of a report of legal proceedings is very much like the lead ofa report of a speech or an interview. It always begins with the mostinteresting fact in the case and briefly summarizes the result of thetrial or the day's hearing. It is to be noted that the lead of such astory always includes a designation of the court in which the hearingwas held and usually the name of the judge and of the case. 

After the lead is finished a court report usually turns into a runningstory of the evidence as it was presented. This may be condensed into aparagraph, giving the reader merely the point of the day's hearing, orit may be expanded into several columns following the testimony more orless closely. In form, it is very much like the summary paragraphs inthe body of a speech report. The result is usually more or less dry andreporters often resort to a means, similar to dialogue in fiction, tolighten it up. Some of the more important testimony is given verbatiminterspersed with indirect summaries of the longer or less importantspeeches. Its presentation usually follows the ordinary rules ofdialogue. Here is an extract from such a story:

 | After describing himself as a breeder | |of horses, Gideon said that he was a | |member of the Metropolitan Turf | |Association, the bookmakers' | |organization, but had never been engaged | |in bookmaking. He did not know where | |"Eddie" Burke, "Tim" Sullivan (not the | |politician), or any of the other missing | |"bookies" could be found. | | | | "You are a member of the executive | |committee of the Metropolitan Turf | |Association?" asked Isidor J. Kresel, | |assistant counsel of the committee. | | | | "Yes. " | | | | "Now, what did your committee do in | |1908, when the anti-race track legislation| |was pending?" | | | | "I don't know. " | | | | * * * * * | | | | "How much did you pay in 1908?" | | | | "Two hundred and fifty dollars. " | | | | "To whom?" | | | | "Mr. Sullivan. " | | | | "What for?" | | | | "Death assessments. " | | | | Gideon said that the little he knew of | |the doings of the "Mets" was from | |conversation with the bookies. Etc. , | |etc. --_New York Evening Post. _ |

Sometimes this direct testimony is given, not in the dialogue form, butas questions and answers. Thus:

 | In reply to other questions, | |Bendernagel said he ordered the office | |supplies, looked after the insurance on | |the sugar, and was responsible for the | |fuel, some 700 tons of coal a day. | | | | Question. --How much money was paid | |through your office in the course of a | |year? Answer. --Four million dollars. | | | | Q. --So yours was a busy office? | | A. --Exceedingly so. | | | | Q. --How long were the raw sugar clerks | |in your office? A. --About twenty years. | |Etc. , etc. --_New York Evening Post. _ |

Some papers would arrange these questions and answers differently, paragraphing each speech separately as in dialogue:

 | Question. --Did you regulate their | |duties in any way? | | | | Answer. --No. | | | | Q. --Were you connected with the docks? | | | | A. --No; that was a separate department. | |It had its own forces, and they worked | |under Mr. Spitzer. He had entire charge. | |Etc. , etc. |

The court records take cognizance only of the actual words uttered inthe testimony, but a newspaper reporter never fails to record any actionor movement that indicates something beyond the words. Very often actionis brought in merely for its human interest; thus:

 | "How long has it been since you have | |had a maid?" asked Mr. Shearn sadly. | | | | "Not for some time, " she said. "Away | |back in 1907, I think. " | | | | "What did it cost you for two rooms and | |bath at the Hotel Belmont, where you lived| |last year?" | | | | "About $300 a week altogether. The rooms| |cost $20 a day. " | | | | There were tears in her eyes when she | |explained that she could no longer afford | |to keep up her own automobile. Etc. , etc. | |--_Milwaukee Free Press. _ |

This sort of dialogue is dangerous and may easily be overworked, but itis very often extremely effective. One word like "sadly, " above, mayconvey more meaning than many lines of explanation. 

 * * * * *

These quotations are usually interspersed with paragraphs whichsummarize the unimportant intervening testimony. The running storyattempts to follow the progress of the hearing in greater or lessdetail, depending upon the space given to the story, just as a speechreport attempts to follow a public discourse. Dry and unimportant factsare briefly summarized, interesting parts of the testimony are quoted infull. The running story is usually written while the hearing is insession or taken from a stenographic report of the hearing. After therunning story has been completed, the reporter prepares a lead for thebeginning to summarize the results or to play up the most significantpart of the story. If the running story is short a lead of one paragraphis sufficient, but if it is long, the lead may be expanded into severalparagraphs. 

XIII

SOCIAL NEWS AND OBITUARIES

The study of newspaper treatment of social news is a broad one. Everynewspaper has its own system of handling social news and the generaltendencies that are to be noted deal rather with the facts that areprinted than with the manner of treatment. Every newspaper givespractically the same facts about a wedding but each individual newspaperhas a method of its own of writing up those facts. One thing that isalways true of social news reporting is that the amount of space givento social items varies inversely with the importance of the newspaperand the size of the city in which it is printed. A little country weeklyor semi-weekly in a small town does not hesitate to run two columns ormore on Sadie Smith's wedding. The report runs into minute details andanecdotes that all of the "Weekly's" readers know before the paperarrives. But the editor prints everything he can find or invent simplybecause all of his readers are more or less personally connected withthe affair and are anxious to see their names in print and to read aboutthemselves. The liberty that such an editor gives himself is of courseimpossible in a larger paper. 

On the other hand, a daily in a city of average size would reduce such astory to a stickful and a metropolitan daily would run only a one-lineannouncement in the "List of marriages, " unless the story was especiallyinteresting. The same thing applies to all social stories. Somemetropolitan newspapers do not run social news at all. 

All of this is true because social news is governed by the sameprinciples that regulate all news values. Unless a society event hassome feature that is interesting impersonally--that is, of interest toreaders who do not know the principals of the event--it is of value onlyas a larger or smaller number of the paper's readers are personallyconnected with the event. Hence in a small town where every one knowsevery one else, society news is of great value. In a large city a verysmall proportion of the readers are connected with the social items thatthe paper has to print and are therefore not interested inthem--accordingly the newspaper either cuts them down to a minimum ofspace or does not run them at all. 

Therefore in our study society news falls into two classes: social itemsthat are of interest only in themselves to persons connected with theevents; and big society stories or unusual social events that are ofinterest to readers who are not acquainted with the principals. 

=1. Weddings. =--The wedding story reduced to its lowest terms in ametropolitan paper consists of a one-line announcement in the list of"Marriages" or "Marriage Licenses"; thus:

 | SMITH-JONES--Feb. 14, Katherine Jones | |to Charles C. Smith. --_New York Times. _ |

If the paper runs a few columns of social news and the persons concernedin the wedding are of any importance socially, the wedding may be givena stickful. Such an account would confine itself entirely to names andfacts and would be characterized by very decided simplicity and brevity. Usually nothing more would be given than the names and address of thebride's parents, the bride's first name, the groom's name, the place, and the name of the minister who officiated. Occasionally the name ofthe best man and a few other details are added, but never does the storybecome personal. It is interesting only to those who know or know of thepersons concerned. 

For example:

 | SMITH-JONES | | | |The marriage of Miss Katherine M. Jones, | |elder daughter of Mr. And Mrs. Randolph | |Jones, 253 Ninth street, and Charles C. | |Smith was celebrated at 4 o'clock | |yesterday afternoon at the First Methodist| |Church, 736 Grand avenue. Rev. William | |Brown, rector of the church, performed the| |ceremony. |

It will be noted that in the above story the name of the bride iswritten out in full, "Miss Katherine M. Jones. " Many newspapers, however, would simply give her first name, thus: "Katherine, elderdaughter of Mr. And Mrs. Randolph Jones. "

If the above wedding were of greater importance more details might begiven. These would include the attendants, descriptions of the gowns ofthe bride and her attendants, the guests from out of town, music, decorations, the reception, and perhaps some of the presents. Sometimesthe wedding trip and an announcement of when and where the couple willbe at home are added. The above story might run on into detail somethinglike this:

 | Miss Jones, who was given in marriage | |by her father, wore a white satin gown | |trimmed with Venetian point lace, and her | |point lace veil, a family heirloom, was | |caught with orange blossoms. She carried | |a bouquet of white sweet peas and lilies | |of the valley. Miss Dorothy Jones, a | |sister of the bride, who was maid of | |honor, wore a gown of green chiffon over | |satin, with lingerie hat, and carried | |sweet peas. Douglas Jackson was the best | |man and the ushers were Dr. John B. | |Smith, Samuel Smith, Gordon Hunt, Rodney | |Dexter, Norris Kenny, and Arthur | |Johnston. A reception followed the | |ceremony at the home of the bride's | |parents. |

This is probably as long a story as any average paper would run on anywedding, unless the wedding had some striking feature that would makethe story of interest to readers who did not know the principals. Notein the foregoing story the simplicity and impersonal tone. There is awealth of facts but there is no coloring. This tone should characterizeevery society story. A list of out-of-town guests might have been added, but as often that would be omitted. In some cases the last sentencemight be followed by an announcement like this:

 | The bride and bridegroom have gone on a | |wedding tour of the West; after April 1 | |they will be at home at 76 Kimbark | |avenue. |

In this connection the young reporter should note the distinctions inmeaning of the various words used in a wedding story. For instance, heshould consult the dictionary for the exact use of the verbs "to marry"and "to wed"--he should know who "is married, " who "is married to, " andwho "is given in marriage, " etc. He should also know the differencebetween a "marriage" and a "wedding. "

=2. Wedding Announcements. =--Wedding announcements are run in the socialcolumns of many papers. These items contain practically the same factsthat we find in the story written after the wedding, except, of course, that the reporter cannot dilate on decorations, and must stick to facts. These facts usually consist of the names of the couple, the names of thebride's parents, and the time and the place of the wedding. Additionallythe reporter may give the minister's name, the names of the maid ofhonor and of the best man, the reception or breakfast to follow, andwhere the couple will be at home. 

 | The wedding of Miss Gladys Jones and | |Richard Smith will take place on | |Wednesday evening in All Angels' Church. | |The bride is a daughter of Mrs. Charles | |Jones, who will give a bridal supper and | |reception afterward at her home. |

There are of course many other ways to begin the announcement. "MissMary E. MacGuire, daughter of, etc. "; "Invitations have been issued forthe wedding of Miss, etc. "; "One of the weddings on for Tuesday is thatof Miss, etc. "; "Cards are out for the wedding on Saturday of Miss, etc. "; and many others. In each case the bride's name has the place ofimportance. 

=3. Announcements of Engagements. =--Announcements of engagements areusually even briefer than wedding announcements. The item consistsmerely of one sentence in which the young lady's mother or parents makethe announcement with the name of the prospective groom. 

 | Mrs. Russell D. Jones of 45 Ninth | |street announces the engagement of her | |daughter, Natalie, to John MacBaine | |Smith. |

The item may also begin "Mr. And Mrs. X. X. So-and-So announce, etc. , "or simply "Announcement is made of the engagement of Miss Stella Blank, daughter of, etc. "

=4. Receptions and Other Entertainments. =--If a paper is to keep up insociety news, it must report many social entertainments. However, suchevents are treated by large dailies as simply, briefly, and impersonallyas possible. Such a story, like the report of a wedding, consists merelyof certain usual facts. The name of the host or hostess, the place, thetime, and the special entertainments are of course always included. Sometimes the occasion for the event, the guests of honor, and adescription of the decorations are added, --also the names of those whoassisted the hostess. 

 | Mrs. James Harris Jones gave a | |reception yesterday at her home, 136 | |Fifth street, for her daughter, Miss | |Dorothy Jones. In the receiving line were | |Miss Marjorie Smith, Miss, etc. * * The | |reception was followed by an informal | |dance. |

If the event is held especially for débutantes, the fact is noted at thevery start. "A number of débutantes assisted in receiving at a tea givenby, etc. "; "The débutantes of the winter were out in force, etc. "

Such a story is usually followed by a list of guests, a list ofout-of-town guests, a list of subscribers, or something of the sort. Ordinarily the list is not tabulated but is run in solid, thus:

 | The guests were: Miss Kathleen Smith, | |Miss Georgia Brown, etc. |

Very often the names are grouped together, thus:

 | The guests were: The Misses Kathleen | |Smith, Georgia Brown; Mesdames Robert R. | |Green, John R. Jones; and the Messrs. | |George Hamilton, Francis Bragg, etc. |

The number of variations in such stories is limited only by theingenuity of the people who are giving such entertainments. But in eachcase the reporter learns to give the same facts in much the same order. And he gives them in an uncolored, impersonal way that makes the itemsinteresting only to those who are directly connected with them. Thestory may vary from a single sentence to half a column, but it alwaysbegins in the same way and elaborates only the same details. Beforetrying to write up social entertainments, a reporter should always besure of the use of the various words he employs--"chaperon, ""patroness, " etc. For instance, can we say that "Mr. And Mrs. Smithacted as chaperons"?

=5. Social Announcements. =--Social announcements of any kind areusually, like the wedding and engagement announcements, confined to asingle sentence. They tell only the name of the host and hostess, thename of the guest of honor or the occasion for the event, the time, andthe place. Thus:

 | Mrs. Charles P. Jones will give a dance| |this evening at her home, 181 Nineteenth | |street, to introduce her sister, Miss | |Elsie Holt. |

A study of the foregoing sections on society stories shows howdefinitely a reporter is restricted in the facts that he may include inhis social items--how conventional social stories have become. This veryrestraint in the matter of facts makes it the more necessary for areporter to exercise his originality in the diction of social items. Hemust guard against the use of certain set expressions, like"officiating, " "performed the ceremony, " and "solemnized. " Whilerestricted in the facts that he may give, he must try to present thesame old facts in new and interesting ways--he may even resort to amoderate use of "fine writing, " if he does not become florid orfrivolous. 

=6. Unusual Social Stories. =--Just as soon as any of these storiescontains a feature that is of interest to the general public in animpersonal way it leaves the general class of social news and becomes anews story to be written with the usual lead. Even the presence of avery prominent name will make a news story out of a social item. Forinstance, the wedding of Miss Ethel Barrymore was written by many papersas a news story. On the other hand, an unusual marriage, an unusualelopement, or anything unusual and interesting in a wedding givesoccasion for a news story. Here is one:

 | Because their 15-year-old daughter, | |Sarah, married a man other than the one | |they had chosen, who is wealthy, Mr. And | |Mrs. Markovits of 3128 Cedar street have | |gone into deep mourning, draped their | |home in crepe and announced to their | |friends that Sarah is | |dead. --_Philadelphia Ledger. _ |

Or the story may be handled in a more humorous way, thus:

 | There is really no objection to him, | |and she is quite a nice young woman, but | |to be married so young, and to go on a | |wedding journey with $18 in their | |purses--but Wallace Jones, student of the| |Western University, and Ruth Smith, | |student in the McKinley High School, | |decided it was too long a time to wait, | |and a nice old pastor gentleman in St. | |Joe has made them one. --_Milwaukee Free | |Press. _ |

=7. Obituaries. =--Like many other classes of newspaper stories, theobituary has developed a conventional form which is followed more orless rigidly by all the papers of the land. Every obituary follows thesame order and tells the same sort of facts about its subject. It beginswith a brief account of the deceased man's death, runs on through a verycondensed account of the professional side of his life and ends with theannouncement of his funeral or a list of his surviving relatives. 

The lead is concerned only with his death, answering the usualquestions about _where_, _how_, and _why_, and is written to stand aloneif necessary. It ordinarily begins with the man's full name, because ofcourse the name is the most important thing in the story, and then tellswho he was and where he lived. This is followed, perhaps in the samesentence, by the time of his death, the cause, and perhaps thecircumstances. Thus:

 | CAMBRIDGE, Mass. , Nov. 25. --Dr. John H. | |Blank, professor of Greek at Harvard | |since 1887 and dean of the Graduate | |School since 1895, died at his home in | |Quincy street today from heart trouble. | |Professor Blank was an authority on | |classical subjects. --_New York Tribune. _ |

This, as you see, might stand alone and be complete in itself. Manyobituaries, however, add another paragraph after the lead in which thecircumstances of the death are discussed in greater detail. Here is thesecond paragraph of another obituary:

 | At 8:30 tonight Mr. Blank was walking | |with his wife on the veranda of the | |Delmonte Hotel, when he suddenly gasped | |as if in great pain and fell to the | |floor. He was carried inside, but was | |dead before the physicians reached his | |bedside. Apoplexy is said to have been | |the cause. |

Next comes the account of the deceased man's life. It is told verybriefly and impersonally and concerns itself chiefly with the events ofhis business or professional activities. It is but a catalogue of hisachievements and the dates of those achievements. These facts areusually obtained from the file of biographies--called the morgue--whichmost newspapers keep. The account first tells when and where he was bornand perhaps who his parents were. Next his education is brieflydiscussed. Then the chief events of his professional or business life. The date of his marriage and the maiden name of his wife are includedsomewhere in or at the end of this account. Usually a list of theorganizations of which the man was a member and a list of the bookswhich he had written are attached to this account. One of the foregoingobituaries continues as follows:

 | He was born in Urumiah, Persia, on | |February 4, 1852, being the son of the | |Rev. Austin H. Blank, a missionary. He | |was graduated from Dartmouth in 1873, and| |that college awarded him the degrees of | |A. M. In 1876 and LL. D. In 1901. From | |1876 to 1878 he studied at Leipzig | |University. He was assistant professor of| |ancient languages at the Ohio | |Agricultural and Mechanical College from | |1873 to 1876, associate professor of | |Greek at Dartmouth from 1878 to 1880, | |and dean of the collegiate board and | |professor of classical philology at Johns| |Hopkins in 1886 and 1887. In 1906 and | |1907 he served as professor in the | |American School of Classical Studies in | |Athens. | | | | (Then follows a list of the | |organizations of which he was a member | |and the periodicals with which he was | |connected. ) | | | | He married Miss Mary Blank, daughter of| |the president of Blank College, in 1879, | |and she survives him. | |--_New York Tribune. _ |

The obituary usually ends with a list of surviving relatives--especiallychildren and very often the funeral arrangements are included. This isthe last paragraph of another obituary:

 | His first wife, Mary V. Blank, died in | |1872. Three years later he married Mrs. | |Sarah A. Blank, of Hightstown, N. J. , who| |with four daughters, survives him. The | |funeral will be held tomorrow at 11:30 | |o'clock. The burial will be in the family| |plot in Greenwood Cemetery. |

This is the standard form of the obituary which is followed by mostdaily newspapers in fair-sized cities. The form is characterized by anextreme conciseness and brevity and an absolutely impersonal tone. Veryrightly, an obituary is handled with a sense of the sanctifiedcharacter of its subject It offers no opportunity for fine writing orhuman interest; it simply gives the facts as briefly and impersonally aspossible. 

XIV

SPORTING NEWS

Division of labor on the larger American newspapers has made thereporting of athletic and sporting events into a separate departmentunder a separate editor. The pink or green sporting sheets of the bigpapers have become separate little newspapers in themselves handled by asporting editor and his staff and entirely devoted to athletic news, except when padded out with left-over stories from other pages. Althoughon smaller papers any reporter may be called upon to cover an athleticevent, in the cities such news is handled entirely by experts who arethoroughly acquainted with all phases of the athletic sports about whichthey write. The stories on the pink sheet enjoy the greatestunconventionality of form to be seen anywhere in the paper except on theeditorial page. And yet, because athletic reporters are usually mentaken from regular reporting and because the same ideas and necessitiesof news values govern the sporting pages, athletic stories follow, ingeneral, the usual news story form. 

One may expect to find under the head of sports almost any news that isany way connected with college, amateur, or professional athletics. Thestories include accounts of baseball and football games, rowing, horseracing, track meets, boxing, and many other forms of sport, as well asany discussions or movements growing out of these sports. Many of thestories are only a few lines in length while others may cover a columnor more. But in general each one has a lead which answers the questions_when?_ _where?_ _how?_ _who?_ and _why?_ and runs along much like anordinary news story. For, after all, even athletic stories are writtento attract and to hold the reader's interest whether or not he isdirectly interested in the sport under discussion. Any reporter who iscalled upon to cover an athletic event is safe in writing his story inthe usual news story form. 

As it would be impossible to discuss all the various stories that comeunder the head of athletic news, the reporting of college football gameswill be taken as typical of the others. The rules that are suggested forthe reporting of football games may be applied to baseball games, trackmeets, and other sporting events. The same principles govern all ofthem and the stories usually summarize results in about the same way. Football stories may be divided into three general classes: the briefsummary story of a stickful or a trifle more; the usual football storyof a half column or less; and the long story that may be run through acolumn or more, depending upon the importance of the game. 

All three of these stories are alike in the general facts which theycontain; they differ only in the number of minor details which theyinclude in the elaboration of these general facts. Each one tells in thefirst sentence what teams were competing, the final score, when andwhere the game was played, and perhaps some striking feature of thegame--the weather, the conditions of the field, the star players, or asensational score. After that, with more or less expansion, each of thestories gives the essential things that the reader wants to know aboutthe game. These consist usually of the way in which the scoring wasdone, a comparison of the playing of the teams, a list of the starplayers, the weather conditions, and the crowd. If the writing of thestory includes a discussion of each of these points in more or lessdetail, the game will be covered in all of its essential phases. Thethree kinds of stories differ, from one another, not in the facts thatthey include, but in the length at which they expand upon these facts. One rule should be noted in the writing of all these stories or of anyathletic story--avoid superlatives. To a green reporter almost everygame seems to be "the most spectacular, " "the most thrilling, " "thehardest fought, " "the most closely matched, " but a broad experience isnecessary to defend the use of any superlative about the game. 

=1. The Brief Summary Story. =--This is the little story of a stickful orless, which merely announces the result of some distant or unimportantgame. Taken in its shortest form it gives only the names of the teams, the score, the time and place of the game, and perhaps a word or two ofgeneral characterization. As it is allowed to expand in length it takesup as briefly as possible the following facts in the order in which theyare given: the scoring, the comparison of play, the star players orplays. It is a mere announcement of the result of the game and no more, for that is all the reader wants. The line-ups and other tables areusually omitted, and nothing is included that goes beyond this narrowpurpose. Here are a few examples:

 | IOWA CITY, Ia. , Nov. 25. --Sensational | |end runs by McGinnis and Curry near the | |end of the final quarter of play gave | |Iowa a 6-to-0 victory over Northwestern | |here this afternoon. | | | | Fort Atkinson High School defeated | |Madison High today in the final moments | |of play when a punt by Davy, fullback | |for Madison, was blocked and the ball | |recovered behind the line, giving Fort | |Atkinson the game, 2 to 0. |

 | INDIANAPOLIS, June 3. --Indianapolis | |started its at-home series today by | |defeating Kansas City, 3 to 2. Robertson | |was in fine form, striking out five men, | |permitting no one to walk and allowing | |only six hits. Score: (Tables. ) |

 | LAFAYETTE, Ind. , June 1. --With the | |score 41 1-3 points, athletes | |representing the University of California| |won the twelfth annual meet of the | |Western Intercollegiate Athletic | |Conference Association today. | | | |Missouri was second with 29 1-3 points, | |Illinois third with 26, Chicago fourth | |with 15 and Wisconsin fifth with 12 1-2. |

=2. The Usual Football Story. =--The usual report of a game is a story ofa half column or less which is longer than the brief summary story andnot so detailed as the long football story. This is the story that acorrespondent would usually send to his paper. It is like them both inthe facts that it includes and differs only in length and in manner oftreatment. This story is usually divided into two parts: theintroduction and the running account. The introduction, or lead, isvery much like the brief summary story; in fact, the entire briefsummary story might be used as the introduction of a story of this type. The second part, the running account, corresponds to the running accountof the game as it will be taken up with the long football story. 

The introduction of the usual athletic story always contains certainfacts. The first sentence, corresponding to the lead of a news story, always gives the names of the teams, the score, the time, the place, andthe most striking feature of the game. After this the plays thatresulted in scores are described and the star plays or players areenumerated. Usually a comparison of the two teams, as to weight, speed, and playing, follows, and the opinion of the captain or of some coachmay be included. The rest of the introduction may be devoted to thepicturesque side of the game: the crowd, the cheering, the celebration, etc. All of this must be told briefly in 200 words or less. Theintroduction is simply the brief summary story slightly expanded. Hereis a fair example (the paragraph containing the scoring has beenomitted):

 | Purdue triumphed over Indiana today, 12| |to 5, recording the first victory for the| |Boilermakers over the Crimson in five | |years. | | | | (Omitted paragraph on scoring belongs | |here. ) | | | | Purdue played a great game at all | |times Oliphant, right half-back on the | |Boilermaker eleven, played remarkably | |well and was the hardest man for the | |locals to handle. Baugh, Miller, Winston | |and Capt. Tavey also starred for Coach | |Hoit's men. | | | | | The Lafayette rooters, 1, 500 strong, | |rushed on the field at the close of the | |struggle and carried their players off | |the field. |

This is ordinarily followed by a brief running account of the game. Itdoes not attempt to follow every play or to trace the course of the ballthroughout the entire game, as a complete running account would do. Itis usually made from the detailed running account by a process ofelimination so that nothing but the "high spots" of the game is left. Such an account may run from 200 to 300 words in length. At the endtables are usually printed to give the line-up and the tabulated resultsof the game, but these may sometimes be omitted. The following is anextract from a condensed running account:

 | Again the cadets fought their way to | |the 10-yard line, runs by Rose and | |Patterson helping materially, but again | |Wayland held. The half ended after | |Wayland had kicked out of danger. | | | | In the second half St. John's outplayed| |Wayland throughout. The cadets by a | |succession of line plunges took the ball | |within striking distance several times, | |only to be held for downs or lose it on a| |fumble. | | | | Patterson electrified the crowd just | |before the third quarter ended by twice | |dodging through for 20-yard runs, placing| |the ball on the 15-yard line, where the | |cadets were held for downs. |

=3. Long Football Story. =--The third class of football story is the longdetailed account. This is all that is left of the elaborate write-ups ofthe season's big games that were printed a few years ago and may be seenoccasionally now. Ten or twenty years ago it was not unusual for aneditor to run several pages, profusely illustrated, on a big easternfootball game. The story was written up from every possibleaspect--athletic, social, picturesque, etc. Every play was described indetail and sometimes a graphic diagram of the play was inserted. Eachphase was handled by a different reporter and the whole thing was givena prominence in the paper out of all proportion with its realimportance. Such a treatment of athletic news has now been very largelydiscarded. 

The outgrowth of this elaborate treatment is the common one- ortwo-column account in the pink or green sporting pages. All of thevarious aspects of the big game are still to be seen, condensed to thesmallest amount of space; and this brief account of the differentaspects of the game is arranged as an introduction of a half column orless to head the running account of the game. This is the sort of storythat is used to report the Yale-Harvard games and the more importantmiddle western games. Its form has become very definitely settled and acorrespondent can almost write his story of the big game by rule. 

The first part of the story, called the introduction, consists of fiveor six general paragraphs. The material in this introduction isarranged, paragraph by paragraph, in the order of its importance. Following this is a running account of the game which may occupy acolumn or more, depending upon the importance of the contest. At the endis a table showing the line-up and a summary of the results. 

The introduction of the big football or baseball story usually follows avery definite order. There are certain things which it must alwayscontain: the result of the game; how the scoring was done; acharacterization of the playing; the stars; the condition of the weatherand the field; the crowd; etc. The reader always wishes to know thesethings about the game even if he does not care to read the runningaccount. It is equally evident that the scoring is of greater interestthan the crowd, and that a comparison of the teams is more importantthan the cheering. And so a reporter may almost follow a stereotypedoutline in writing his account. A possible outline would be somethinglike this:

 First Paragraph. --The names of the teams, the score, when and where the game was played, and perhaps some striking feature of the game. The weather may have been a significant factor, or the condition of the field; the crowd may have been exceptionally large or small, enthusiastic or uninterested; or the game may have decided a championship; some star may have been unusually prominent, or the scoring may have been done in an extraordinary way. Any of these factors, if of sufficient significance, would be played up in the first line just as the feature of an ordinary news story is played up. This paragraph corresponds to the lead of a news story and is so written. For example:

 | Playing ankle-deep in mud before a | |wildly enthusiastic gathering of football| |rooters, the gridiron warriors of Siwash | |College defeated the Tigers this | |afternoon on Siwash athletic field by the| |score of 5 to 0. |

 Second Paragraph. --Here the reporter usually tells how the scoring was done, what players made the scores, and how. 

 Third Paragraph. --The next thing of importance is a comparison of the two teams. The reader wants to know how they compared in weight, speed, and skill, and how each one rose to the fight. A general characterization of the playing or a criticism may not be out of place here. 

 Fourth Paragraph. --Now we are ready to tell about the individual players. Our readers want to know who the stars were and how they starred. 

 Fifth Paragraph. --This brings us down near the tag end of the introduction. Very often this paragraph is devoted to the opinions of the captains and coaches on the game. Their statements, if significant, may be boxed and run anywhere in the report. 

 Sixth Paragraph. --The picturesque and social side of the game comes in here. The size of the crowd, the enthusiasm, the celebration between halves or before or after the game, are usually told. This material may be of enough importance to occupy several paragraphs, but the reporter must always remember that he is writing a sporting account and not a picturesque description of a social event. 

 Seventh Paragraph. --This paragraph usually begins the running account of the game. 

 * * *

 N-th Paragraph. --This space at the end of the entire report is given to the line-ups and tabulated results of the game. 

This arrangement may of course be varied, and any of the foregoingfactors of the game may be of sufficient importance to be placed earlierin the story. Never, however, should the various factors be mixedtogether heterogeneously and written in a confused mass. Each elementmust be taken up separately and occupy a paragraph by itself. 

The running account of the game, which follows the introduction, requires little rhetorical skill. Each play is described in its properplace and order and should be so clear that a reader could make adiagram of the game from it. It must also be accurate in names anddistances as well as in plays. 

Probably every individual sporting correspondent has a different way ofdistinguishing the players and the plays and of writing his runningaccount. It is not an easy matter to watch a game from the press standfar up in the bleachers and be able to tell who has the ball in eachplay and how many yards were gained or lost. Familiarity with the teamsand the individual players makes the task easier but few reporters areso favored by circumstances. They must get the names from the cheeringor from other reporters about them unless they have some method of theirown. 

There is one method that may be followed with some success. Before thegame the reporter equips himself with a table of the players showingthem in their respective places as the two teams line up. It is usuallyimpossible to tell who has the ball during any single play because theeye cannot follow the rapid passing, but it is always possible to tellwho has the ball when it is downed. At the end of each play as theplayers line up, the reporter keeps his eye on the man who had the ballwhen it was downed and watches to see the position he takes in the newline-up. Then a glance at the table will tell him the man's name. 

The running account is written as simply and briefly as possible. Itfollows each play, telling what play was made, who had the ball, andwhat the result was. It keeps a record of all the time taken out, thechanges in players, the injuries, etc. A typical running account readssomething like this:

 | Siwash advanced the ball two yards by a| |line plunge. Kelley carried the ball | |around left end for five yards to the | |Tigers' 50-yard line. The Tigers gained | |the ball on a fumble after a fake punt | |and lined up on their own 45-yard line. | |Time called. Score at end of first half, | |0 to 0. |

At the end of the running account are tables, usually set in smallertype, giving the line-up of the two teams and the tabulated results ofthe game. Some papers arrange the tables as follows:

 |Siwash: Tigers: | | | |Smith........... Left end....... Jones | | | |Brown......... Left tackle...... Green-Wood| | | |McCarthy....... Left guard...... Connor | | | |Hall (Capt. )..... Centre........ Jacobs | | | |Etc. |

Other papers use this system which brings the opposing players together:

 |Siwash: Tigers: | | | |l. E........ Smith : Williams....... R. E. | | | |l. T........ Brown : Jackson........ R. T. | | | |l. G..... McCarthy : Cook (Capt. )... R. G. | | | |c.... (Capt. ) Hall : Jacobs............ C. | | | |Etc. |

The tabulated results at the end may be something like this:

 |Score by periods: | | | |Tigers.................... 0 2 1 3--6 | | | |Siwash.................... 0 0 0 0--0 | | | |Touchdown--Brown. Goal from touchdown-- | |O'Brien. Umpire--Enslley, Purdue. | |Referee--Holt, Lehigh. Field | |judge--Hackensaa, Chicago. Head | |linesman--Seymour, Delaware. Time of | |periods--fifteen minutes. |

Dispatches and stories on baseball games and track meets are usuallyaccompanied by tables of results, similar to the above but arranged in aslightly different way. The form may be learned from any reputablesporting sheet. 

XV

HUMAN INTEREST STORIES

In our study of newspaper writing up to this point we have been entirelyconcerned with forms, rules, and formulas; every kind of story which wehave studied has had a definite form which we have been charged tofollow. We have been commanded always to put the gist of the story inthe first sentence and to answer the reader's customary questions in thesame breath. Now we have come to a class of newspaper stories in whichwe are given absolute freedom from conventional formulas. In fact, thehuman interest story is different from other newspaper stories largelybecause of its lack of forms and rules. It does not begin with the gistof its news--perhaps because it rarely has any real news--and it answersno customary questions in the first paragraph; its method is the naturalorder of narrative. The human interest story stands alone as the onlyliterary attempt in the entire newspaper and, as such, a discussion ofit can hardly tell more than what it is, without any great attempt totell how to write it. For our purposes, the distinguishing marks of thehuman interest story are its lack of real news value and of conventionalform, and its appeal to human emotions. 

The human interest story has grown out of a number of causes. Up to avery recent time newspapers have been content with printing news in itsbarest possible form--facts and nothing but facts. Their appeal has beenonly to the brain. But gradually editors have come to realize that, ifmany monthly magazines can exist on a diet of fiction that appeals onlyto the emotions, a newspaper may well make use of some of the materialfor true stories of emotion that comes to its office. They have realizedthat newsiness is not the only essential, that a story does not alwayshave to possess true news value to be worth printing--it may beinteresting because it appeals to the reader's sympathy or simplybecause it entertains him. Hence they began to print stories that hadlittle value as news but, however trivial their subject, were so wellwritten that they presented the humor and pathos of everyday life in avery entertaining way. The sensational newspapers took advantage of theopportunity but they shocked their readers in that they tried to appealto the emotions through the kind of facts that they printed, ratherthan through the presentation of the facts. They did not see that theeffectiveness of the emotional appeal depends upon the way in which ahuman interest story is written, rather than upon the story itself. Therefore they shocked their readers with extremely pathetic factspresented in the usual newspaper way, while the journals which stood forhigh literary excellence were able to handle trivial human interestmaterial very effectively. Now all the newspapers of the land havelearned the form and are printing effective human interest storiesevery day. 

Another reason behind the growth of the human interest story is thecurse of cynicism which newspaper work imprints upon so many of itsfollowers. Every editor knows that no ordinary reporter can work apolice court or hospital run day after day for any length of timewithout losing his sensibilities and becoming hardened to the sternerfacts in human life. Misfortune and bitterness become so common to himthat he no longer looks upon them as misfortune and misery, but just asnews. Gradually his stories lose all sympathy and kindliness and hewrites of suffering men as of so many wooden ten-pins. When he hasreached this attitude of cynicism, his usefulness to his paper is almostgone, for a reporter must always see and write the news from thereader's sympathetic point of view. To keep their reporters'sensibilities awake editors have tried various expedients which havebeen more or less successful. One of these is the "up-lift run" for cubreporters--a round of philanthropic news sources to teach them thebusiness of reporting before they become cynical. Another is the humaninterest story. If a reporter knows that his paper is always ready andglad to print human interest stories full of kindliness and humansympathy, he is ever on the watch for human interest subjects andconsequently forces himself to see things in a sympathetic way. Thus heunconsciously wards off cynicism. The search for human interest materialis a modification of the "sob squad" work of the sensational papers, onmore delicate lines. 

A human interest story is primarily an attempt to portray humanfeeling--to talk about men as men and not as names or things. It is anattempt to look upon life with sympathetic human eyes and to put livingpeople into the reports of the day's news. If a man falls and breaks hisneck, a bald recital of the facts deals with him only as an animal or aninanimate name. The fact is interesting as one item in the list of humanmisfortunes, but no more. And yet there are many people to whom thisman's accident is more than an interesting incident--it is a veryserious matter, perhaps a calamity. To his family he was everything inthe world; more than a mere means of support, he was a living humanbeing whom they loved. The bald report of his death does not considerthem; it does not consider the man's own previous existence. But if wecould get into the hearts of his wife and his mother and his children, we could feel something of the real significance of the accident. Thisis what the human interest story tries to do. It does not necessarilystrive for any effect, pathetic or otherwise, but tries simply to treatthe victim of the misfortune as a human being. The reporter endeavors tosee what in the story made people cry and then tries to reproduce it. Inthe same way in another minor occurrence, he attempts to reproduce theside of an incident that made people laugh. Either incident may or maynot have had news value in its baldest aspect, but the sympathetictreatment makes the resulting human interest story worth printing. 

There are various kinds of human interest stories. The common ground inthem all is usually their lack of any intrinsic news value. Many asuccessful human interest story has been printed although it containedno one of the elements of news values that were outlined earlier in thisbook. In fact, one of the uses of the human interest story is toutilize newspaper by-products that have no news value in themselves. Hence the human interest story has no news feature to be played up and, since it does not contain any real news, it does not have to answer anycustomary questions. In form it is much like a short story of fiction, since it depends on style and the ordinary rules of narration. Theabsence of a lead, more than any other characteristic, distinguishes thehuman interest story from the news story, in form. We have worked hardto learn to play up the gist of the news in our news stories; now wecome to a story which makes no attempt to play up its news--in fact, itmay leave its most interesting content until the end and spring it as asurprise in the last line. To be sure, most human interest stories haveand indicate a timeliness. The story may have no news value but it isalways concerned with a recent event and usually tells at the outsetwhen the event occurred. Almost without exception, the examples quotedin this chapter show their timeliness by telling in the first sentencewhen the event occurred. So much for the outward form of the humaninterest story. 

=1. Pathetic Story. =--One of the many kinds of human interest stories isthe pathetic story. Although it does not openly strive for pathos, it ispathetic in that it tells the story of a human misfortune, simply andclearly, with all the details that made the incident sad. It is thestory that attempts to put the reader into the very reality of the painand sorrow of every human life. Sometimes it makes him cry, sometimes itmakes him shudder, and sometimes it disgusts him, but it always showshim misfortune as it really is. It looks down behind the outward actionsand words into the hearts of its actors and shows us motives andfeelings rather than facts. But just as soon as any attempt at pathosbecomes evident, the story loses its effectiveness. Its only means areclear perception and absolute truthfulness. Here is an example of apathetic human interest story taken from a daily paper:

 | Rissa Sachs' child mind yesterday | |evolved a tragic answer to the question, | |"What shall be done with the children of | |divorced parents?" | | | | She took her life. | | | | Rissa was 14 years old. The divorce | |decree that robbed her of a home was less | |than a week old. It was granted to her | |mother, Mrs. Mellisa Sachs, by Judge | |Brentano last Saturday. | | | | When the divorce case was called for | |trial Rissa found that she would be | |compelled to testify. Reluctantly she | |corroborated her mother's story that her | |father, Benjamin Sachs, had struck Mrs. | |Sachs. It was largely due to this | |testimony that the decree was granted and | |the custody of the child awarded to Mrs. | |Sachs. | | | | Then the troubles of the girl began in | |real earnest. She loved her mother dearly. | |But her father, who had been a companion | |to her as well as a parent, was equally | |dear to her. | | | | Both parents pleaded with her. Mrs. | |Sachs told Rissa she could not live | |without her. The father told the girl, in | |a conversation in a downtown hotel several | |days ago, that he would disown her unless | |she went to live with him. | | | | Every hour increased the perplexities of | |the situation for the child. She could not | |decide to give up either of her parents | |for fear of offending the other. So she | |sacrificed her own life and gave up both. | | | | Thursday evening, on returning from | |school to the Sachs home at 4529 Racine | |avenue, Rissa talked long and earnestly | |with her mother. Then she retired to her | |room, turned on the gas and, clothed, lay | |down upon her bed to await death and | |relief from troubles that have driven | |older heads to despair. | | | | At the inquest yesterday afternoon the | |grief-stricken mother told the story of | |her daughter's difficulties. She said that | |Rissa had declared she could not live if | |compelled to give up either of her | |parents, but added that she never had | |believed it. --_Chicago Record-Herald. _ |

This is a pathetic human interest story in that it attempts to give thehuman significance of an incident which in itself would have little newsvalue. Perhaps, in the matter of words, there is a slight straining forpathos. The form, it will be noted, is decidedly different from that ofa news story on the same incident and, although the timeliness is givenin the first line, there is no attempt to present the gist of the storyin a formal lead. The source of the news is indicated in the lastparagraph. 

=2. Humorous Story. =--Another kind of human interest story is thehumorous story. Its humor, like the pathos of a pathetic story, does notcome from an attempt to be funny, but from the truthful presentation ofa humorous incident, from the incongruity and ludicrousness of theincident itself. The writer tries to see what elements in a givenincident made him laugh and then portrays them so clearly and truthfullythat his readers cannot help laughing with him. The subject may be themost trivial thing in the world, not worth a line as a news story, andyet it may be told in such a way that it is worth a half-column write-upthat will stand out as the gem of the whole edition. But after all theeffectiveness depends upon the humor in the original subject and thetruthfulness of the telling. The following humorous human intereststory, which occupied a place on the front page, was built up out of anincident almost devoid of news value:

 | One of Johnnie Wilt's original ideas | |for entertaining his twin sister | |Charlotte is to build a big bonfire on | |the floor of their playroom. | | | | Johnnie, who is 4 years old, carried his | |plan into execution at the Wilt home, 2474 | |Lake View avenue, for the first time | |yesterday afternoon, with results that | |made a lasting impression upon his mind | |and the finishings of the interior of the | |house. | | | | The thing was suggested to him by a | |bonfire he saw a man build in the street. | |Charlotte hadn't seen the other fire. For | |some reason Charlotte's feminine mind | |refused to understand just what the fire | |was like. | | | | Consequently nothing remained for | |Johnnie to do but build a fire of his own. | |He piled all of the newspapers and | |playthings that could be found in the | |middle of the room and then applied a | |match. | | | | When the flames leaped to the ceiling, | |however, and a cloud of smoke filled the | |room, Johnnie began to doubt the wisdom of | |the move. While Charlotte ran to tell a | |maid he retreated to that haven of | |youthful fugitives--the space beneath a | |couch. | | | | The frightened maid summoned the fire | |engines and the fire was soon | |extinguished. But Mrs. Wilt discovered | |that Johnnie had disappeared. She | |telephoned to Charles T. Wilt, president | |of the trunk company that bears his name, | |and half hysterically told of the fire and | |the disappearance of Johnnie. | | | | Just then there was a scrambling sound | |from beneath the couch. Johnnie, looking | |as serious as a 4-year-old face can look, | |walked out. | | | | Mrs. Wilt seized him and, to an | |accompaniment of "I-won't-do-it-agains, " | |crushed him to her bosom. Last reports | |from the Wilt home were that Johnnie had | |not yet been punished for his | |deed. --_Chicago Record-Herald. _ |

The student will notice how all the facts of the story and the answersto the reader's questions are worked in here and there, how the contentof a news story lead is scattered throughout the entire account. 

=3. Writing the Human Interest Story. =--It is one thing to be able todistinguish material for a human interest story and another to be ableto write the story. The whole effectiveness of the story, as we haveseen, depends upon the way it is written. Many a poorly written, ungrammatical news story is printed simply because it contains factsthat are of interest, regardless of the way in which they are presented. But never is a poorly written human interest story printed; simplybecause the facts in it have little interest themselves and the story'susefulness depends entirely upon the presentation of the facts. Hence, the human interest story, more than any other newspaper story, must bewell written. And yet there are no rules to assist in the writing ofsuch a story. In fact, its very nature depends upon originality andnewness in form and treatment. 

In the first place, we cannot fall back upon the conventional lead for abeginning, because a lead would be out of place. As we have said before, the human interest story does not begin with a lead for the reason thatit has no striking news content to present in the lead. In many casesthe whole story depends upon cleverly arranged suspense; if the contentis given in a lead at the beginning suspense is of course impossible. The human interest story has no more need of a lead than does a shortstory--in some ways a human interest story is very much like a shortstory--and a short story that gives its climax in the first paragraphwould hardly be written or read. But, just like the short story, a humaninterest story must begin in an attractive way. In the study of shortstory writing almost half of the study is devoted to learning how tobegin the story, on the theory that the reader is some sort of afugitive animal that must be lassoed by an attractive and interestingbeginning. The theory is of course a true one and it holds good in thecase of human interest stories. 

But no rules can be laid down to govern the beginning of human interestor short stories. Each story must begin in its own way--and each mustbegin in a different way. Some writers of short stories begin withdialogue, others with a clean-cut witticism, others with attractiveexplanation or description, others with a clever apology. The list isendless. This endless list is ready for the reporter who is trying towrite human interest stories. But the choosing must be his own. He mustselect the beginning that seems best adapted to his story. As aninspiration to reporters who are trying to write human interest stories, a few beginnings clipped from daily papers are given here. Some are goodand some are bad; the goodness or badness in each case depends uponindividual taste. They can hardly be classified in more than a generalway for originality is opposed to all classifications. They are merelysuggestions. 

A striking quotation or a bit of apt dialogue is commonly used toattract attention to a story. Here are some examples:

 | "Burglars, " whispered Mrs. Vermilye to | |herself and she took another furtive peek | |out of the windows of her rooms on the | |sixth floor of the, etc. |

 | "Speaking of peanuts, " observed the man | |with the red whiskers, "they ain't the | |only thing in the world what is small. " | |Etc. |

 | "Ales, Wines, Liquors and Cigars!" You | |see this sign in the windows of every | |corner life-saving station. But what | |would you say if you saw it blazing over | |the entrance to the Colony Club, that | |rendezvous for the little and big sisters | |of the rich at Madison avenue and | |Thirtieth street? Etc. |

 +------------------------------------------+ |WANTED--Bright educated lady as secretary | |to business man touring northwest states | |and Alaska: give reference, ability; age, | |description. Address E-640, care Bee. | | | | (7)-680 19x. | +------------------------------------------+ | The above innocent appearing want ad in | |_The Bee_, although alluring in its | |prospects to a young woman desiring a | |summer vacation, is the principal factor | |in the arrest of one M. W. Williams, etc. |

A well-written first sentence in a human interest story often purportsto tell the whole story, like a news story lead, and really tells onlyenough to make you want to read further. Here are a few examples:

 | His son's suspicions and a can opener | |convinced Andrew Sherrer last Saturday | |that he had been fleeced out of $500 by | |two clever manipulators of an ancient | |"get-something-for-nothing" swindle. So | |strong was the victim's confidence, etc. |

 | There's a stubborn, unlaid ghost, a | |gnome, a goblin, a swart fairy at the | |least, who has settled down for the | |winter in a perfectly respectable cellar | |over in Brooklyn and whiles away the | |dismal hours of the night by chopping | |spectral cordwood with a phantom axe. | |Instead of going to board with Mrs. | |Pepper or another medium and being of | |some use in the world and having a | |pleasant, dim-lighted cabinet all its | |own, this unhappy ghost--or ghostess--is | |pestering Marciana Rose of 1496 Bergen | |street, who owns the cellar and the house | |over it--over both the ghost and the | |cellar. Etc. |

 | The gowk who calls up 3732 Rector today | |will get a splinter in his finger if he | |scratches his head. Nothing doing with | |3732 Rector. From early morn till dewy | |eve Mr. Fish, Mr. C. Horse, Mr. Bass, Mr. | |Skate and other inmates of the aquarium | |will be inaccessible by 'phone. Etc. |

 | Under all the saffron banners and the | |sprawling dragons clawing at red suns | |over the roofs of Chinatown yesterday | |there was a tension of unrest and of | |speculation. It all had to do with the | |luncheon to be given to his Imperial | |Highness Prince Tsai Tao and the members | |of his staff at the Tuxedo Restaurant, 2 | |Doyers street, at noon to-morrow. Etc. |

 | Man and wife, sitting side by side as | |pupils, was the interesting spectacle | |which provided the feature of the | |elementary night school opening last | |night. Etc. |

 | Two young Germans of Berlin, neither | |quite 18 years of age, had a perfectly | |uncorking time aboard the White Star | |liner Majestic, in yesterday. They were | |favorites with the smoke-room stewards. | |They learned later that man is born unto | |trouble as the corks fly upward. Etc. |

 | It was a long black overcoat with a | |velvet collar, big cuffed sleeves, and | |broad of shoulder, and looked decidedly | |warm and comfy. It stood in one of the | |large display windows of ----, and | |covered the deficiencies of a waxy dummy, | |who stared in a surprised sort of manner | |out into the street and appeared to be | |looking at nothing. Etc. |

 | The bellboys put him up to it and then | |Marcus caused a lot of trouble. Marcus is | |a parrot who has been spending the winter | |in one of the large Broadway hotels. Etc. |

 | Lame, old, but uncomplaining, | |remembering only his joy when a visitor | |came to him, and forgetting to be bitter | |because of the wrongs done him, meeting | |his rescuer with a wag of the tail meant | |to be joyful, a St. Bernard dog set an | |example, etc. |

Some human interest stories begin, and effectively, too, with a directpersonal appeal to the reader; thus:

 | If you've never seen anybody laugh with | |his hands, you should have eased yourself | |up against a railing at the Barnum and | |Bailey circus in Madison Square Garden | |yesterday afternoon and watched a band of | |250 deaf mute youngsters, all bedecked in | |their bestest, signalling all over the | |Garden. Etc. |

 | If you've ever sat in the enemy's camp | |when the Blue eleven lunged its last yard | |for a touchdown and had your hair ruffled | |by the roar that swept across the | |gridiron, you can guess how 1, 500 Yale | |men yelled at the Waldorf last night for | |Bill Taft of '78. Etc. |

A question is often used at the beginning of a human interest story:

 | A near-suicide or an accident. Which? | |Keeper Bean is somewhat puzzled to say | |which, but it is quite certain it will | |not be tried again. At least, Keeper Bean | |does not think it will. | | | | But, it was a sad, sad Sunday for the | |little white-faced monkey. For hours he | |lay as dead, etc. |

Many of these stories, animal or otherwise, begin with a name:

 | Long Tom, a Brahma rooster that had | |been the "bad inmate" of Jacob Meister's | |farm at West Meyersville, N. J. , for | |three years, paid the penalty of his | |crimes Christmas morning when he was | |beheaded after his owner had condemned | |him to death. Bad in life, he was good in | |a potpie that day, etc. |

The beginning of a human interest story is always the most importantpart; just like a news story, it must attract attention with its firstline. In the same way, a good beginning is something more than halfdone. But here the similarity between the two ends. The news story, after the lead is written, may slump in technique so that the end isalmost devoid of interest; the human interest story, on the other hand, must keep up its standard of excellence to the very last sentence andthe last line must have as much snap as the first. It is never in dangerof losing its last paragraph and so it may be more rounded and complete;it must follow a definite plan to the very end and then stop. In this itis like the short story, although it seldom has a plot. There are norules to help us in writing any part of the human interest story. Eachattempt has a different purpose and must be done in a different way. Yetthe reporter must know before he begins just exactly how he is going towork out the whole story. He must plan it as carefully as a shortstory. A few minutes of careful thought before he begins to write arebetter than much reworking and alteration after the thing is done. Thisapplies to all newspaper writing. 

Much of the effectiveness of the human interest story depends upon thereporter's style. When we try to write human interest stories we are nolonger interested in facts, as much as in words. Our readers are notfollowing us to be informed, but to be entertained. And we can pleasethem only by our style and the fineness of our perception. Although wehave been told to write news stories in the common every-day words ofconversation, we are not so limited in the human interest story. Theelegance of our style depends very largely upon the size of ourvocabulary, and elegance is not out of place in this kind of story. Although we have been told to use dialogue sparingly in news stories, our human interest story may be composed entirely of dialogue. In fact, we are hampered by no restrictions except the restrictions of Englishgrammar and literary composition. Although we have sought simplicity ofexpression before, we may now strive for subtlety and for effect; we maywrite suggestively and even obscurely. We are dealing with the only partof the newspaper that makes any effort toward literary excellence andonly our originality and cleverness can guide us. 

It is hardly necessary to repeat that one cannot write human intereststories in a cynical tone. They are a reaction against cynicism. Theyrequire one to feel keenly, as a human being, and to writesympathetically, as a human being. The reporter must see behind thefacts and get the personal side of the matter--and feel it. Then he musttell the story just as he sees and feels it. Absolute truthfulness inthe telling is as necessary as keen perception in the seeing. Humor mustbe sought through the simple, truthful presentation of an incongruous orhumorous idea or situation; pathos must be sought by the truthfulpresentation of a pathetic picture. Just as soon as the reporter triesto be funny or to be pathetic he fails, for the reader is not looking tothe reporter for fun or pathos--but to the story that the reporter istelling. That is, the story must be written objectively; the writer mustforget himself in his attempt to impress the story upon his reader'smind. If the story itself is fundamentally humorous or sad and the storyis clearly and truthfully told with all the details that make ithumorous or sad, it cannot help being effective. 

The best way to learn how to write human interest stories is to studyhuman interest stories. Most papers print them nowadays--they can easilybe distinguished by their lack of news value, and of a lead--and thefinest example is just as likely to crop out in a little weekly as in ametropolitan daily. 

=4. The Animal Story. =--The examples printed earlier in this chapter arespecimens of the truest type of human interest story because they dealwith human beings. They derive their joy or sorrow from things thathappen to men and women. But all the sketches that are classed as humaninterest stories are not so carefully confined to the limits of thetitle. From the original human interest story the type has grown untilit includes many other things--almost any piece of copy that has nointrinsic news value. Every possible subject that may suit itself to apathetic or humorous treatment and thus be interesting, although it hasno news value, is roughly classed as a human interest story. 

One of these outgrowths of the true human interest sketch is the animalstory. In the large cities, the "zoo" and the parks have become afruitful source of "news. " Anything interesting that may happen to themonkeys, or the elephant, the sparrows or the squirrels in the parks, horses or dogs in the street, is used as the excuse for a human intereststory. Sometimes the purpose is pathos and sometimes it is humor, but, whatever it may be, if it is clever and interesting it gets its place inthe paper, a place entirely out of proportion to its true news value. The results sometimes verge very close upon nature faking, but after allthey are only the result of the "up-lift" idea of looking at all life ina more sympathetic way. Several of the beginnings quoted earlier in thischapter belong to animal stories and the following is a complete one:

 | Smithy Kain was only a mongrel, | |horsemen will say, but in his equine | |heart there coursed the blood of | |thoroughbreds. | | | | Smithy Kain was killed yesterday | |afternoon, shot through the head, while | |thousands of Wisconsin fair patrons looked | |on in shuddering sympathy. | | | | It was a tragedy of the track. | | | | Owners, trainers and drivers always are | |quick to declare that no greater courage | |is known than that possessed and | |demonstrated by race horses in hard-fought | |battles on the turf, and the truth of this | |was never more strikingly brought home | |than in the death of Smithy Kain | |yesterday. | | | | With a left hind foot snapped at the | |fetlock, Smithy Kain raced around the | |track, his valiant spirit and unfaltering | |gameness keeping him up until he had | |completed the course in unwavering pursuit | |of the flying horses in front. Every jump | |meant intense agony, but he would not | |quit. Not until near the finish did his | |strength give out, and not until then was | |the pitiable truth discovered. Men used to | |exhibitions of gameness in tests that try | |the soul looked on in mute admiration as | |Smithy Kain shivered and stumbled from the | |pain that rapidly sapped his life. Women | |cried openly. | | | | Two shots from the pistol of a park | |policeman ended the life and sufferings of | |the horse that was only a mongrel, but | |who, in his equine way, was a thoroughbred | |of thoroughbreds. | | | | Smithy Kain gave to his master the best | |that his animal mind and soul possessed. | |No better memorial can be written even of | |man himself. |

=5. The Special Feature Story. =--One step beyond the animal story is thespecial feature story. This kind of story is classed with the humaninterest story because it has no news value and because its only purposeis to entertain or to inform in a general way; and yet it rarelycontains any human interest. There is no space in this book for acomplete discussion of the special feature story--an entire volume mightbe devoted to the subject--but this form of story is often seen in thenews columns of the daily papers and deserves a mention here. Ordinarilythe special feature story is not written by reporters, although there isno reason why reporters should not use in this way many of the factsthat come to them. The story usually comes from outside the newspaperoffice, from a contributor, from a syndicate, or from some other daily, weekly, or monthly publication; however a word or two here may suggestto the reporter the possibility of adding to his usefulness by writingsuch stories for his paper. 

The special feature story may be almost anything. The name is used todesignate timely magazine articles, timely write-ups for the Sundayedition, and timely squibs for the columns of the daily papers. The lastuse is the one that interests us and it interests us because it is veryclosely related to the human interest story. The editors usually call ita feature story because it is worth printing in spite of the fact thatit has no news value. In this and in its timeliness it is like the humaninterest story. But it is not written for humor or pathos; its purposeis to entertain the reader. Its method is largely expository and itsstyle may be anything; it may explain or it may simply comment in awitty way. The utilizing of otherwise useless by-products of the news isits purpose--in this it is very much like the animal story. 

Subjects for feature stories may come from anywhere and may be almostanything. A very common kind of feature story is the weather story thatmany newspapers print every day. The weather is taken as the excuse fortwo or three stickfuls of print which explain and comment upon weatherconditions, past, present and future. Growing out of this, there is theseason story which deals with any subject that the season may suggest:the closing of Coney Island, the spring styles in men's hats, the firstfur overcoat, Commencement presents, Easter eggs--anything in season. Further removed from the human interest story is the timely write-upwhich has no other purpose than to explain, in a more or less serious orsensible way, any interesting subject that comes to hand. The storypurports not only to entertain but to inform as well. It has no newsvalue and yet it is usually timely. Here are a few subjects selected atrandom from the daily papers: "He'll pay no tax on cake, " explaining ina humorous way the customs methods that held up the importation of anItalian Christmas cake; "Clearing House for Brains, " a description ofthe new employment bureau of the Princeton Club of New York; "Ideal manpicked by the Barnard girl, " a humorous resumé of some Barnard Collegeclass statistics; "Winning a Varsity Letter, " telling what a varsityletter stands for, how it is won, and what the customs of the variouscolleges in regard to letters are; "Jerry Moore raises a record corncrop, " telling how a fifteen-year-old boy won prizes with a little patchof corn. 

These are just a few suggestions to open up to the reporter the vastfield for special feature articles. To be sure, many of them aresubmitted by outsiders, but there is no reason why a reporter should notwrite these stories as well as human interest stories for his paper, since he is in the best position to get the material. Whenever a specialfeature story becomes too large for the daily edition there is always apossibility of selling it to the Sunday section or to a monthlymagazine. The writing of special feature stories is directly in linewith the reporter's work, because the ordinary method of gathering factsfor a feature article and arranging them in an interesting, newsy wayfollows closely the method by which a reporter covers and writes a newsstory. Hence almost without exception the most successful magazinefeature writers are, or have been, newspaper reporters. 

XVI

DRAMATIC REPORTING

Dramatic reporting is one of the most misused of the newspaperreporter's activities. To many reporters, as well as to their editors, it is just an easy way of getting free admission to the theater inreturn for a half column of copy. Hence it is treated in an unjustlytrivial way; the reports of theatrical productions are printed mostoften as space fillers or as a small advertisement in return for freetickets. But after all the work is an important one and should be doneonly by skillful and expert hands. Dramatic reporting is included inthis book, not because it is thought possible to give the subject anadequate treatment, but because theatrical reporting is a branch of thenewspaper trade that may fall to the hands of the youngest reporter. Inmere justice to the stage the reporter who writes up a play should knowsomething about the real significance of what he is doing. It is mucheasier to tell the beginner what not to do than to tell him exactlywhat to do. The faults in dramatic reporting are far more evident thanthe virtues; and yet there are some positive things that may be said onthe subject. 

The first important question in the whole matter is "Who does dramaticreporting?" One would like to answer, "Skilled critics of broadknowledge and experience. " But unfortunately almost anybody does it--anyone about the office who is willing to give up his evening to go to thetheater. To be sure, many metropolitan papers employ skilled critics towrite their dramatic copy and run the theatrical news over the critic'sname. Some editors of smaller papers have the decency to do the workthemselves. But in most cases the work is given to an ordinaryreporter--and not infrequently to the greenest reporter on the staff. Worse than that, the work is seldom given to the same reportercontinuously, but is passed around among all the members of the staff. Even a green cub may learn by experience how to report plays, but if thework falls to him only once a month his training is very meager. Itwould seem in these days of much discussion of the theater that editorswould realize the power which they have over the stage through theirfavorable or unfavorable criticism. But they do not, perhaps becausethey know little about the stage, and the appeal must be made to theirreporters. Every reporter, except upon the largest papers, has theopportunity sooner or later to give his opinion on a play. Inanticipation of that opportunity these few words of advice are offered. 

The first requisite in dramatic criticism is a background of knowledgeof the drama and the stage. To children, and to some grown people, too, the stage is a little dream world of absolute realities. Theirimaginations turn the picture that is placed before them into real, throbbing life. They do not see the unreality of the art, the suggestiveeffects, the flimsy delusions; to them the play is real life, the stageis a real drawing room or a real wood, and they cannot conceive of theactors existing outside their parts. But the critic must look deeper; hemust understand the machinery that produces the effects and he mustweigh the success of the effects. He must get behind the play and seethe actors outside the cast and the stage without its scenery; thedramatic art must be to him a highly technical profession. For thisreason, he must know something about dramatic technique; he must havesome background of knowledge. He must study the theater from every pointof view, from an orchestra seat, from behind the scenes, from a peekholein the playwright's study, and from the pages of stage history. All thetricks and effects must be evident to him. The only thing that willteach him this is constant, intelligent theater-going. He must befamiliar with all of the plays of the season and with all of theprominent plays of all seasons. A child cannot criticize the first playthat he sees because he has nothing with which to compare it. In thesame way a reporter cannot justly judge any kind of play until he hasseen another of the same kind with which to compare it. Hence he mustknow many plays and must know something about the history of thetheater. Dramatic criticism is relative and the critic must have a basisfor his comparison. 

This background of knowledge may seem a difficult thing to acquire. Itis; and it can best be acquired by watching many plays with an eye forthe technique of the art. The critic may judge a play from its effectupon him, but his judgment will be superficial. He must try to see whatthe playwright is trying to do, how well he succeeds, what tricks heemploys. He must judge the work of the stage carpenter and of thecostumer. He must try to realize what problem the leading lady has toface and how well she solves it. The same carefulness of judgment mustbe given to each member of the cast. Only when the critic is able to seepast the footlights and to understand the technique of the art, can hejudge intelligently. And as his judgment can be at best only relative, he must have a background of many plays and much stage knowledge uponwhich to base his estimate of any one production. 

The ideal criticism, based upon this background of knowledge, would beabsolutely fair and unprejudiced. But unfortunately this ideal cannotalways be followed. Much dramatic criticism is colored by the policy ofthe paper that prints it. Very few critics are so fortunate as to beable to say exactly what they think about a play; they must say what theeditor wants them to say. Some theatrical copy, especially write-ups ofvaudeville shows, is paid for and must contain nothing but praise. Sometimes it is necessary to praise the poorest production simplybecause the paper is receiving so much a column for the praise. In manyother cases, when the copy is not paid for, the editor often considersit only fair to give the production a little puff in return for the freepress tickets. And so a large share of any reporter's dramatic criticismis reduced to selecting things that he can praise. Yet, one cannotpraise in a way that is too evident; he cannot simply say "The play wasgood; the staging was good; the acting was good; in fact, everything wasgood. " He must praise more cleverly and give his copy the appearance ofhonest criticism. Perhaps the principle is wrong, but nevertheless itexists and happy is the dramatic critic whose paper allows him to sayexactly what he thinks. However, whether one may say what he thinks ormust say what his editor wants him to say, he must have as hisbackground a thorough knowledge of the stage upon which he may base acomparison or a contrast and with which he may make intelligentstatements. The following illustrates what may be done with a paidreport of a mediocre vaudeville show in which every act must bepraised--the report was written on Monday of a week's run and isintended to induce people to see the show:

 | This week's bill at ---- Vaudeville | |Theatre is dashed onto the boards by a | |very exciting act, "The Flying Martins, " | |whose thrilling tricks put the audience | |in a proper state of mind for the | |sparkling and laughable program that | |follows--a state of mind that keeps its | |high pitch without a break or let-down to | |the very end of Dr. Herman's | |side-splitting electrical pranks. This | |man, who has truly "tamed electricity, " | |does many remarkable things with his big | |coils and high voltage currents and plays | |many extremely funny tricks upon his row | |of "unsuspecting-handsome" young | |volunteers. | | | | The musical little playlet, "The Barn | |Dance, " is very jokingly carried off by | |its Jack-of-all-Trades, "Zeke, " the | |constable, and its pretty little ensemble | |song, "I'll Build a Nest for You. " Many a | |young husband can get pointers on "home | |rule" from "Baseballitis;" it is a mighty | |good presentation of the "My Hero" theme | |in actual life. Hilda Hawthorne gives us | |some high-class ventriloquism with a good | |puppet song that is truly wonderful. | |There's a lot of good music, very good | |music in the sketch executed by "The | |Three Vagrants, " as well as a lot of fun; | |one can hardly realize what an amount of | |melody an old accordion contains. Audrey | |Pringle and George Whiting have a hit | |that is sparkling with quick changes from | |Irish love songs to bull frog croaking | |with Italian variations. |

For the purpose of a more complete study of the subject, however, weshall consider only dramatic criticism that is not restricted byeditorial dictum or by the requirements of paid-space. That is, we shallimagine that we can praise or condemn or say anything we pleaseconcerning the dramatic production which we are to report. When we lookat the subject in this way there are some positive things that may besaid about theatrical reporting, but there are many more negative rules, that may be reduced to mere "Don'ts. " The same principles hold good indramatic criticism that is hampered by policy, but to a less degree. 

In the first place, the one thing that a dramatic reporter must havewhen he begins to write his copy after the performance is some positiveidea about the play, some definite criticism, upon which to base hiswhole report. It is impossible to write a coherent report from chancejottings and to confine the report to saying "This was good; that wasbad, the other was mediocre. " The critic must have a positive centralidea upon which to hang his criticism. This central idea plays the samepart in his report as the feature in a news story--it is the feature ofhis report which he brings into the first sentence, to which he attachesevery item, and with which he ends his report. To secure this idea, thereporter must watch the play closely with the purpose of crystallizinghis judgment in a single conception, thought, or impression. Sometimesthis impression comes as an inspiration, sometimes it is the result ofhard thought during or after the play. It may be concerned with thetheme of the play, the playwright's work, the lines, the staging, theeffects, the tricks, the acting as a whole, the acting of singlepersons, the music, the dancing, the costumes--anything connected withthe production--but the idea must be big enough to carry the entirereport and to be the gist of what the critic has to say about the play. It must be his complete, concise opinion of the performance. 

When, as the critic watches the play, some idea comes to him for hisreport he should jot it down. As the play progresses he should developthis idea and watch for details that carry it out. There is no reason tobe ashamed of taking notes in the theater and the notes will prove veryuseful at the office afterward. Perhaps after the play is over thecritic finds that his jottings contain another idea that is of greaterimportance than the first; then he may incorporate the second into thefirst or discard the first altogether. Even after one has crystallizedhis judgment into a concise opinion he must elaborate and illustrate itand the program of the play is always of value in enabling one to referdefinitely to the individual actors, characters, and other persons, byname. But, however complete the final judgment and the notes may be, itis always well to write the report immediately. When one leaves thetheater his mind is teeming with things to say about the play, thousandsof them, but after a night's sleep it is doubtful if a single full-grownidea will remain and the jottings will be absolutely lifeless andunsuggestive. 

This is the positive instruction that may be given to young dramaticcritics. It is so important and is unknown to so many young theatricalreporters, that it may be well to sum it up again. A dramatic criticismmust be coherent; it must be unified. It must be the embodiment of asingle idea about the play and every detail in the report must beattached to that idea. It is not sufficient to state the idea in aclever way; it must be expanded and elaborated with examples and reasonsand must show careful thought. It is well to outline the report beforeit is written and to arrange a logical sequence of thought so that theresult may be well-rounded and coherent. 

The following is an example of a dramatic criticism in which this courseis followed. It neither praises nor condemns but it points out gentlywherein the play is strong or weak--and every sentence is attached toone central idea:

 | A POLITE LITTLE PLAY. | | | | Never raise your voice, my dear Gerald. | |That is the only thing left to | |distinguish us from the lower classes. | |_Lord Wynlea in "The Best People". _ |

 | The new comedy at the Lyric Theatre is | |written in accordance with Lord Wynlea's | |dictum quoted above. It is mannerly, well | |poised, ingratiating and deft. As a minor | |effort in the high comedy style it is | |welcome, because it affords a respite | |from the "plays with a punch" and the | |prevalent boisterous specimens of the | |work of yeomen who go at the art of | |dramatic writing with main strength. | | | | "The Best People" is by Frederick | |Lonsdale and Frank Curzen, who manifestly | |know some of them. It was done at | |Wyndham's Theatre in London, and we think | |that in a comfortable English playhouse, | |with tea between acts and leisurely | |persons with whom to visit in the foyer, | |it would make an agreeable matinee. | |Certainly it is admirably acted here, and, | |as has been intimated, its quiet drollery | |and its polite maneuvering make it a | |relief. | | | | Whether American audiences, used to | |stronger fare than tea at the theatre, | |will find it sustaining is a question that| |would seem to be answered by the | |announcement, just received from the | |Lyric, that the engagement closes next | |Saturday evening. | | | | The fable relates how the Honorable Mrs. | |Bayle discovered that her husband and Lady| |Ensworth had been flirting with peril | |during her absence in Egypt, how she | |blithely threw them much together, with | |the result that they grew intensely weary | |of each other, and how at last everybody | |concerned was happily and sensibly | |reconciled. | | | | The spirit of the piece is sane and | |"nice, " the decoration of it whimsical and| |graceful. | | | | Miss Lucille Watson, embodying the | |spirit of witty mischief, gives a very | |fine performance of the part of Mrs. | |Bayle, a "smart, " good woman, and Miss | |Ruth Shepley is excellent in byplay and | |flutter as a silly, good woman. | | | | Cyril Scott is graceful and vigorous as | |a philandering husband, Dallas Anderson | |comical as a London clubman with a keener | |relish in life than he is willing to | |betray, and William McVey wise, paternal | |and weighty in that kind of a part. | | | | "The Best People" is a pleasant spring | |fillip. |

The first admonition in theatrical reporting is "Don't resumé the plotor tell the story of the play. " This is almost all that many dramaticreporters try to do, because it is the easiest thing to do and requiresthe least thought. But, after all, it is usually valueless. The story ofthe play does not interest readers who have already seen the play and itspoils the enjoyment of the play for those who intend to see it. Theusual purpose of any theatrical report is to criticize, but a reportthat simply resumés the story of the play is not a criticism; hencespace devoted to the story is usually wasted. To be sure, thisadmonition must be qualified. If the development of the critic'sjudgment of the play requires a resumé of the story, there is then areason for outlining the action. However, even then, the outline shouldbe very brief. 

The following is a typical example of the usual dramatic reportingwhich is satisfied when it has told the story of the play. In this, thefirst two sentences are a very bald attempt to repay the manager for histickets. The resumé of the story, given very obviously to fill space, isnot of any critical value. The only real criticism is at the end and isinadequate because the praise is given without reason. 

 | Grace George and her small but | |excellent company of artists added one | |more to their long list of successful | |performances last night in the production | |of Geraldine Bonner's clever comedy of | |modern life, "Sauce for the Goose, " at | |the ---- Theatre. That the moody and | |sparkling Miss George has a good claim to | |the title of America's leading | |comedienne, no one who saw the | |performance last evening could deny. In | |this piece she is cast for the part of | |Kitty Constable, who is in the third year | |of her married life and living with her | |husband in New York City. Mr. Constable | |has been engaged in writing a book on the | |emancipation of woman and as a result has | |come to neglect his pretty little wife | |and seek the companionship of a certain | |woman of great intellect, Mrs. Alloway, | |who leads him on by an affected sympathy | |with his work. He chides his wife for her | |seeming negligence of the culture of her | |mind, telling her that she lacks grey | |matter. The climax comes when Mr. | |Constable tries to get away from his wife | |on the evening of their wedding | |anniversary to dine with Mrs. Alloway. | |Kitty tries the emancipated woman idea | |and goes to the opera with another man | |and has dinner with him in his | |apartments. She lets her husband know of | |her plans and he comes to the room in a | |rage. By thus playing first on his | |jealousy and then by ridiculing his | |ideas, she wins him back to herself. The | |company was made up of artists and there | |was not a crude spot in the whole | |performance. The part of Harry Travers, | |the friend of Mrs. Constable's, was | |excellently done by Frederick Perry, as | |was that of Mr. Constable by Herbert | |Percy. Probably the most difficult | |character in the play to portray was that | |of the "woman's rights" woman, Mrs. | |Alloway, which was most admirably done by | |Edith Wakeman. |

The word criticism must not lead the reporter to think that, as acritic, his only function is to find fault. To criticize may mean topraise as well as to condemn. If the critic is not restricted by thepolicy of his paper, he should be as willing to praise as to condemn, and vice versa. But whichever course he takes he must be ready to defendhis criticism and to tell why he praises or why he condemns. There isalways a tendency to praise a play in return for the free tickets; thisshould be put aside absolutely. The critic owes something to the publicas well as to the manager. If the play seems to him to be bad, he mustsay so without hesitation and he must tell why it is bad. Too manyreally bad plays are immensely advertised by a critic's undefendedstatement that they are not fit to be seen. Had the critic givendefinite reasons for his condemnation, his criticism might haveaccomplished its purpose. In the same way it is useless to say simplythat a play is good. Its good points must be enumerated and the readermust be told why it is good. 

However, criticism must be written with delicacy. If your heart tellsyou to praise, praise; if your heart tells you to condemn, condemn withcare. Remember that your condemnation may put the play off the boards orat least hurt its success, and there must be sufficient reason for suchradical action. The critic's debt to the public is large, but he owessome consideration to the manager. He must hesitate before he saysanything that may ruin the manager's business. Critics very oftencondemn a play for trivial reasons; they feel indisposed, perhapsbecause their dinner has not agreed with them, the play does not fitinto their mood and they turn in a half column of ruinous condemnation. Perhaps they like a certain kind of production--farces, forinstance--and systematically vent their ire on every tragedy and everymusical comedy. They do not use perspective; they do not judge the stageas a whole. No matter how poor a play is or how much a critic dislikesit, he must consider what the stage people are trying to do and judgeaccordingly. In many cases it is not the individual play that deservesadverse criticism, but the kind of play. All of these things must beconsidered; every dramatic critic must have perspective. He must be fairto the stage people and to the public; his influence is greater than hemay imagine. 

No matter how strong the occasion for condemnation may be, the dramaticcritic is never justified in speaking bitterly. The poor production isnot a personal offense against him nor against the public. It is simplya bad or an unworthy attempt and his duty is confined to pointing how orwhy it is not worthy. That does not mean that he is justified in usingbitter, abusive, or even sarcastic language. It is great sport to makefun of things and to exercise one's wits at some one's else expense--itis also easy--but that is not dramatic criticism. The public asks thecritic to tell them calmly and fairly, even coldly, the reasons for oragainst a production--the reasons why they should, or should not, spendtheir money to see it--bitter sarcasm overreaches the mark. Just as soonas a critic tries to be personal in his remarks on a play he isexceeding his prerogative and is open to serious criticism himself. 

The necessary attributes of a dramatic reporter, as we have seen, are:fairness, logical thinking, and a background of stage knowledge. And ofthese three, the background is of the greatest importance; it is thestimulus and the check for the other two. The more a critic can knowabout every phase of the theatrical profession, contemporary orhistorical, the better will be his criticisms. The more knowledge of thestage that his copy shows, the more greedily will his readers look forhis "Theatrical News" each day. However clear his idea of a play may behe cannot express it clearly and readably without a background of otherplays to refer to. And, by the same sign, a wealth of allusions and aquantity of theatrical lore will often carry a critic past many a playconcerning which he is unable to form a clear opinion. To develop yourability as a dramatic reporter, watch the theatrical criticisms inreputable dailies and weeklies and learn from them. 

XVII

STYLE BOOK

 _Being a copy of the Style Book compiled for the Course in Journalism of the University of Wisconsin from the style books of many newspapers. _

=1. Capitalize:=

 All proper nouns: Smith, Madison, Wisconsin. 

 Months and days of the week, but not the seasons of the year: April, Monday; but autumn. 

 The first word of every quotation, enumerated list, etc. , following a colon. 

 The principal words in the titles of books, plays, lectures, pictures, toasts, etc. , including the initial "a" or "the": "The Merchant of Venice, " "Fratres in Urbe. " If a preposition is attached to or compounded with the verb capitalize the preposition also: "Voting _For_ the Right Man. "

 The names of national political bodies: House, Senate, Congress, the Fifty-first Congress. 

 The names of national officers, national departments, etc. : President, Vice President, Navy Department, Department of Justice (but not bureau of labor), White House, Supreme Court (and all courts), the Union, Stars and Stripes, Old Glory, Union Jack, United States army, Declaration of Independence, the (U. S. ) Constitution, United Kingdom, Dominion of Canada. 

 All titles preceding a proper noun: President Taft, Governor-elect Wilson, ex-President Roosevelt, Policeman O'Connor. 

 The entire names of associations, societies, leagues, clubs, companies, roads, lines, and incorporated bodies generally: Mason, Odd Fellow, Knights Templar, Grand Lodge of Knights of Pythias, Woman's Christian Temperance Union, Wisconsin University, First National Bank, Schlitz Brewing Company (but the Schlitz brewery), Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, Chicago and Northwestern Railway Company, the Association of Passenger and Ticket Agents of the Northwest, Clover Leaf Line, Rock Island Road, Chicago Board of Trade, New York Stock Exchange (but the board of trade and the stock exchange). 

 The names of all religious denominations, etc. : Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, Spiritualist, Christian Science, First Methodist Church (but a Methodist church), the Bible, the Koran, Christian, Vatican, Quirinal, Satan, the pronouns of the Deity. 

 The names of all political parties (both domestic and foreign): Republican, Socialism, Socialist, Democracy, Populist, Free Silverite, Labor party, (but anarchist). 

 Sections of the country: the North, the East, South America; southern Europe. 

 Nicknames of states and cities: The Buckeye State, the Hub, the Windy City. 

 The names of sections of a city and branches of a river, etc. : the East Side, the North Branch. 

 The names of stocks in the money market: Superior Copper, Fourth Avenue Elevated. 

 The names of French streets and places: Rue de la Paix, Place de la Concorde. 

 Names of automobiles: Peerless, the White Steamer, Pierce Arrow. 

 Names of holidays: Fourth of July, Christmas, New Year's day, Thanksgiving day. 

 Names of military organizations: First Wisconsin Volunteers, Twenty-third Wisconsin Regiment, Second Army Corps, second division Sixth Army Corps, National Guard, Ohio State Militia, First Regiment armory, the militia, Grand Army of the Republic. 

 The names of all races and nationalities (except negro): American, French, Spanish, Chinaman. 

 The nicknames of baseball clubs: the White Sox, the Cubs. 

 Miscellaneous: la France, Irish potatoes, Enfield rifle, American Beauty roses. 

=2. Capitalize when following a proper noun:= Bay, block, building, canal, cape, cemetery, church, city, college, county, court (judicial), creek, dam, empire, falls, gulf, hall, high school, hospital, hotel, house, island, isthmus, kindergarten, lake, mountain, ocean, orchestra, park, pass, peak, peninsula, point, range, republic, river, square, school, state, strait, shoal, sea, slip, theatre, university, valley, etc. : South Hall, Park Hotel, Hayes Block, Singer Building, DeweySchool, South Division High School, Superior Court, New York Theatre, Beloit College, Wisconsin University, Capitol Square. 

=3. Do not capitalize when following a proper name:= Addition, avenue, boulevard, court (a short street), depot, elevator, mine, place, station, stockyards, street, subdivision, ward, etc. : Northwesterndepot, Pinckney street station, Third ward, Harmony court, Amsterdamavenue, Broad street, Wingra addition, Washington boulevard, Winchesterplace. 

=4. Capitalize when preceding a proper noun:=--All titles denoting rank, occupation, relation, etc. (do not capitalize them when they follow thenoun): alderman, ambassador, archbishop, bishop, brother, captain, cardinal, conductor, congressman, consul, commissioner, councilman, count, countess, czar, doctor, duke, duchess, earl, emperor, empress, engineer, father, fireman, governor, her majesty, his honor, his royalhighness, judge, mayor, motorman, minister, officer, patrolman, policeman, pope, prince, princess, professor, queen, representative, right reverend, senator, sheriff, state's attorney, sultan: AldermanJohn Smith (but John Smith, alderman), Senator La Follette (but Mr. LaFollette, senator from Wisconsin). 

The same rule applies when the following words precede a proper noun aspart of a name: bay, cape, city, college, county, empire, falls, gulf, island, point, sea, state, university, etc. : City of New York, Gulf ofMexico, University of Wisconsin, College of the City of New York, College of Physicians and Surgeons. 

=5. Do not capitalize:=

 The names of state bodies, etc. : the senate, house, congress, speaker, capitol, executive mansion, revised statutes. (These are capitalized only when they refer to the national government: e. G. , the capitol at Madison, the Capitol at Washington. )

 The names of city boards, departments, buildings, etc. : boards, bureaus, commissions, committees, titles of ordinance, acts, bills, postoffice, courthouse (unless preceded by proper noun), city hall, almshouse, poorhouse, house of correction, county hospital, the council, city council, district, precinct: e. G. , the fire department, the tax committee. 

 Certain other governmental terms: federal, national, and state government, armory, navy, army, signal service, custom-house. 

 Points of the compass: east, west, north, south, northeast, etc. 

 The names of foreign bodies: mansion-house, parliament, reichstag, landtag, duma. 

 Common religious terms: the word of God, holy writ, scriptures, the gospel, heaven, sacred writings, heathen, christendom, christianize, papacy, papal see, atheist, high church, church and state, etc. 

 The court, witness, speaker of the chair, in dialogues. 

 Scientific names of plants, animals, and birds: formica rufa. 

 a. M. , p. M. , and m. (meaning a thousand); "ex-" preceding a title. 

 The names of college classes: freshman, sophomore. 

 College degrees when spelled out: bachelor of arts; but B. A. 

 Seasons of the year: spring, autumn, etc. 

 Officers in local organizations (election of officers); president, secretary, etc. 

 Certain common nouns formed from proper nouns: street arab, prussic acid, prussian blue, paris green, china cup, india rubber, cashmere shawl, half russia, morocco leather, epsom salts, japanned ware, plaster of paris, brussels and wilton carpets, valenciennes and chantilly lace, vandyke collar, valentine, philippic, socratic, herculean, guillotine, derby hat, gatling gun. 

=6. Punctuation:=

 Omit periods after nicknames: Tom, Sam, etc. 

 Always use a period between dollars and cents and after per cent. , but never after c, s, and d, when they represent cents, shillings, and pence: $1. 23, 10 per cent. , 2s 6d. 

 Punctuate the votes in balloting thus: Yeas, 2; nays, 3. 

 Punctuate lists of names with the cities or states to which the individuals belong thus: Messrs. Smith of Illinois, Samson of West Virginia, etc. If the list contains more than three names, omit the "of" and punctuate thus: Smith, Illinois; Samson, West Virginia; etc. Where a number of names occurs with the office which they hold, use commas and semicolons, thus: J. S. Hall, governor; Henry Overstoltz, mayor; etc. 

 Never use a colon after viz. , to wit, namely, e. G. , etc. , except when they end a paragraph. Use a colon, dash, or semicolon before them and commas after them, thus: This is the man; to wit, the victim. 

 "Such as" should follow a comma and have no point after it: "He saw many things, such as men, horses, etc. "

 Set lists of names thus without points:

 Mesdames-- George V. King Charles C. Knapp Henry A. Lloyd John H. Cole Jr. 

 Do not use a comma between a man's name and the title "Jr. " or "Sr. " as John Jones Jr. 

 Use the apostrophe to mark elision: I've, 'tis, don't, can't, won't, canst, couldst, dreamt, don'ts, won'ts, '80s. 

 Use the apostrophe in possessives and use it in the proper place: the boy's clothes, boys' clothes, Burns' poems, Fox's Martyrs, Agassiz's works, ours, yours, theirs, hers, its (but "it's" for it is). George and John's father was a good man; Jack's and Samuel's fathers were not. 

 Do not use the apostrophe when making a plural of figures, etc. : all the 3s, the Three Rs. 

 Do not use the apostrophe in Frisco, phone, varsity, bus. 

 Use an em dash after a man's name when placed at the beginning in reports of interviews, speeches, dialogues, etc. : John Jones--I have nothing to say. (No quotation marks. )

 In a sentence containing words inclosed in parentheses, punctuate as if the part in parentheses were omitted: if there is any point put it after the last parenthesis. 

 Use brackets to set off any expression or remark thrown into a speech or quotation and not originally in it: "The Republican party is again in power--[cheers]--and is come to stay. "

 Use the conjunction "and" and a comma before the last name in a list of names, etc. : John, George, James, and Henry. 

 Use no commas in such expressions as 6 feet 3 inches tall, 3 years 6 months old, 2 yards 4 inches long. 

 Punctuate scores as follows: Wisconsin 8, Chicago 0. 

 Punctuate times in races, etc. : 100-yard dash--Smith, first; Jones, second. Time, 0:10 1-5. 

 Peters carried the ball thirty yards to the 10-yard line. 

=7. Date lines:=

 Punctuate date lines as follows:

 MADISON, Wis. , Jan. 25. --

 Do not use the name of the state after the names of the larger cities of the country, such as New York, Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, San Francisco, Seattle. Abbreviate the names of months which have more than five letters. 

=8. Quoting:=

 Quote all extracts and quotations set in the same type and style as the context, but do not quote extracts set in smaller type than the context or set solid in separate paragraphs in leaded matter. 

 Quote all dialogues and interviews, unless preceded by the name of the speaker or by "Question" and "Answer":

 "I have nothing to say, " answered Mr. Smith. William Smith--I have nothing to say. Question--Were you there? Answer--I was. 

 Quote the names of novels, dramas, paintings, statuary, operas, and songs: "The Brass Bowl, " "Il Trovatore. "

 Quote the subjects of addresses, lectures, sermons, toasts, mottoes, articles in newspapers: "The Great Northwest, " "Our Interests. "

 Be sure to include "The" in the quotation of names of books, pictures, plays, etc. : "The Fire King"; not the "Fire King"; unless the article is not a part of the name. 

 Do not quote the names of theatrical companies, as Her Atonement Company. 

 Do not quote the names of characters in plays, as Shylock in "The Merchant of Venice. "

 Do not quote the names of newspapers. In editorials put "The Star" in italics, but in "The Kansas City Star" put "Star" in italics and use no quotation marks. 

 Do not quote the names of vessels, fire engines, balloons, horses, cattle, dogs, sleeping cars. 

=9. Compounds and Divisions:=

 Omit the hyphen when using an adverb compounded with -ly before a participle: a newly built house. 

 Use a hyphen after prefixes ending in a vowel (except bi and tri) when using them before a vowel: co-exist. When using such a prefix before a consonant do not use the hyphen except to distinguish the word from a word of the same letters but of different meaning: correspondent, but co-respondent (one called to answer a summons); recreation, but re-create (to create anew) reform, but re-form (to form again); re-enforced; biennial, etc. 

 Do not use the hyphen in the names of rooms when the prefix is of only one syllable: bedroom, courtroom, bathroom, etc. (except blue room, green room, etc. ). 

 When the prefix is of more than one syllable use the hyphen. Follow the same rule in making compounds of house, shop, yard, maker, holder, keeper, builder, worker: shipbuilder, doorkeeper. 

 In dividing at the end of a line:

 Do not run over a syllable of two letters. Do not divide N. Y. , M. P. , LL. D. , M. D. , a. M. , p. M. , etc. Do not divide figures thus: 1, -000, 000; but thus 1, 000, -000. Do not divide a word of five letters or less. 

=10. Figures:=

 Use figures for numbers of a hundred or over, except when merely a large or indefinite number is intended: twenty-three, 123, about a thousand, a dollar, a million, millions, a thousand to one, from four to five hundred. 

 Use figures for numbers of less than 100 when they are used in connection with larger numbers: There were 33 boys and 156 girls; there were 106 last week and 16 this week. 

 Use figures for hours of the day: at 7 p. M. ; at 8:30 this morning. 

 Use figures for days of the month: April 30, the 22nd of May. 

 Use figures for ages: he was 12 years old; little 2-year-old John. If the words "2-year-old John" begin a sentence or headline, spell out the age. 

 Use figures for dimensions, prices, degrees of temperature, per cents. , dates, votes, times in races, scores in baseball, etc. : 3 feet long, $3 a yard, 76 degrees, Jan. 14, 1906. Time of race--2:27. 

 Use figures for all sums of money: $24, $5. 06, 75 cents. 

 Use figures for street numbers: 1324 Grand avenue. 

 Use figures for numbered streets and avenues above 99th; spell out below 100th: 123 Twenty-third avenue, 10 East 126th street. 

 Use figures in statistical or tabular matter; never use ditto marks. 

 Use figures, period, and en quad for first, second, etc. : 1. --, 2. --. 

 Do not begin a sentence or paragraph with figures; supply a word if necessary or spell out: At 10 o'clock; Over 300 men. 

 Do not use the apostrophe to form plurals of figures: the 4s, rather than the 4's. 

 In all texts from the Bible set the chapters in Roman numerals and the verses in figures: Matt. Xxii. 37-40; I. John v. 1-15. In Sunday school lessons say Verse 5. 

 Say three-quarters of 1 per cent. ; not 3/4 of 1 per cent. 

 Set tenths, hundreds, etc. , in decimals: 1. 1; 2. 03. 

=11. Abbreviations:=

 Abbreviate the following titles and no others, when they precede a name: Rev. , Dr. , Mme. , Mlle. , Mr. , Mrs. , Mgr. (Monsignore), M. (Monsieur). 

 Do not put Mr. Before a name when the Christian name is given except in society news and editorials: Mr. Johnson; but Samuel L. Johnson. 

 Supply Mr. In all cases when Rev. Is used without the Christian name: Rev. Henry W. Beecher; but Rev. Mr. Beecher. 

 Never use "Honorable" or the abbreviation thereof except with foreign names, in editorials, or in documents. 

 Abbreviate thus: Wash. , Mont. , S. D. , N. D. , Wyo. , Cal. , Wis. , Colo. , Ind. , Id. , Kan. , Ariz. , Okla. , Me. Do not abbreviate Oregon, Iowa, Ohio, Utah, Alaska, or Texas. 

 Abbreviate thus: Madison, Dane County, Wis. : but Dane County, Wisconsin. 

 Use the abbreviations U. S. N. And U. S. A. After a proper name. 

 Y. M. C. A. , W. C. T. U. , M. E. Are good abbreviations. 

 Abbreviate names of months when preceding date only when the month contains more than five letters: Jan. 20; but April 20. When the date precedes the month in reading matter spell it out: the 13th of January; the 26th inst. 

 Abbreviate "Number" before figures: No. 10. 

 Abbreviate contract, article, section, question, answer, after the first in bills, by-laws, testimony, etc. : Section 1. , Sec. 2. ; Question--, Answer--, Q. --, A. --. 

 Do not abbreviate railway, company, the names of streets, wards, avenues, districts, etc. : Madison Street Railway Company; State street, Monona avenue. 

 Street and avenue are sometimes abbreviated in want-ads: State-st, Monona-av. 

 Spell out numbered streets and avenues up to 100th: Thirty-fourth street, 134th street. 

 Use & in names of firms, but use the long "and" in names of railroads. Use Etc. And not &c. ; use Brothers and not Bros. (except in ads); use & only when necessary to abbreviate in stocks. 

 Do not abbreviate the names of political parties except in election returns, then: Dem. , Rep. , Soc. , Lab. , Ind. , Pro. , Un. Cit. 

 Put in necessary commas in abbreviating railroad names: C. , M. & St. P. Ry. (Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul Railway); C. , C. , C. & St. L. R. R. (Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis Railroad). 

 Abbreviate without periods in market review and quotations: 25c, bu, brls, tcs, pkgs, f o b, p t, etc. Spell out centimes except when given thus: 10f 20c. 

 Do not abbreviate Fort and Mount: Fort Wayne, Mount Vernon. 

=12. Preparation of Copy:=

 Use a typewriter or write legibly; some one must read your copy. 

 If you write with a typewriter, double or triple space your copy; never use single space. 

 Don't write on more than one side of the paper. 

 Leave sufficient margin for corrections and leave a space at the top of the first page for headlines; leave an inch at the top of each page. 

 Don't put more than one story on a single sheet of paper. 

 Don't trust the copy-reader to fill in blanks or to correct misspelled names. If you write by hand print out proper names as legibly as possible; underscore _u_ and overscore _n_. 

 Don't assume that the copy-reader, the proofreader, or the editor will punctuate for you, or eliminate all superfluous punctuation. 

 Remember that uniformity is more to be desired than a strict following of style. 

 Don't turn in copy without re-reading carefully and verifying all names and addresses. 

 Use short paragraphs; always paragraph the lead separately; indent paragraphs distinctly. 

 Don't write over figures or words; scratch out and rewrite. 

 Number your pages; when pages are inserted use letters: pages 2, 3a, 3b, 4, 5. 

 A circle around an abbreviation or a figure indicates that the word or number is to be spelled out. A circle around a spelled-out word or number indicates that it is to be abbreviated or run in figures. 

 Mark the end of your story, thus: # # #

=13. Don'ts:=

 Don't use "Honorable" or abbreviations thereof, except in extracts from speeches or documents, in editorials, or before foreign names. 

 Don't add final s to afterward, toward, upward, downward, backward, earthward, etc. 

 Don't use "signed" before the signature of a letter or document; run signature in caps. 

 Don't begin a sentence or paragraph with figures; insert a word before the figures or spell out. 

 Don't use commas in dates or in figures which denote the number of a thing, as A. D. 1908, 2324 State street, Policy 33815; in other cases use the comma, as $5, 289; 1, 236, 400 people. 

 Don't forget that the following are singular and require singular verbs: sums of money, as $23 was invested; United States; anybody, everybody, somebody, neither, either, none; whereabouts, as "His whereabouts is known. "

 Don't forget that things OCCUR by chance or accident, and that things TAKE PLACE by arrangement. 

 Don't "sustain" broken legs and other injuries. 

 Don't "administer" punishment. 

 Don't confound "audiences, " "spectators, " and casual "witnesses. "

 Don't say "party" for "person. "

 Don't use "suicide, " "loan, " "scare, " as verbs. 

 Don't use "gotten"; it is questionable; use "got. "

 Don't use "burglarize. "

 Don't use "transpire" for "occur. "

 Don't use "locate" for "find"; to locate a thing is to place it. 

 Don't use "stopped" for "stayed": He stayed at the Central Hotel. 

 Don't "tender" receptions nor "render" songs; use simply "give" and "sing. "

 Don't "put in an appearance"; just appear. 

 Don't use "don't" for "doesn't. "

 Don't use "stated" for "said. "

 Don't say "per day" or "per year, " but "a day, " "a year"; per is a Latin word and can be used only before a Latin noun, as "per diem" or "per annum. "

 Don't say "the meeting convened"; members might convene but a single body cannot. 

 Don't "claim that" anything is so; you can "claim" a thing, however. 

 Don't say "Mrs. Dr. Smith, " just "Mrs. Smith. "

 Don't say "between" when more than two are mentioned. 

 Don't use "proven" for "proved. "

 Don't confound "staid" with "stayed. "

 Don't say "different than, " but "different from. "

 Don't split infinitives or other verbs. 

 Don't use "onto. "

 Don't use "babe" or "tot" for "baby" or "child. "

 Don't use superlatives when you can help it. 

 Don't use trite expressions or foreign words and phrases. 

 Don't use "corner of" in designating street location. 

 Don't say "died from operation, " but "died after operation"--to avoid danger of libel. 

 Don't get the _very_ habit. 

 Don't use "couple of" instead of "two. "

 Don't use Mr. Before a man's full name. 

 Don't use slang unless it is fitting--which is seldom. 

 Don't mention the reporters, singly or collectively, unless it is necessary. It rarely is. 

 Don't qualify the word "unique"; a thing may be "unique, " but it cannot be "very unique, " "quite unique, " "rather unique, " or "more unique. "

 Don't use the inverted passive: e. G. , "A man was given a dinner, " "Smith was awarded a medal. "

 Don't concoct long and improper titles: Justice of the Supreme Court Smith, Superintendent of the Insurance Department Jones, Groceryman Brown. If the title is long put it after the man's name; thus: George Smith, justice of the Supreme Court. 

 Don't use the verb "occur" with weddings, receptions, etc. ; they take place by design and never unexpectedly. 

 Don't say "a number of, " if you can help it. Be specific. 

 Don't use the word "lady" for "woman, " or "gentleman" for "man. "

 Don't say "a man by the name of Smith, " but "a man named Smith. "

 Don't use "depot" for "station"--railway passenger station. 

APPENDIX I

SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY

These Suggestions for Study embody the method used in the course in NewsStory Writing in the Course in Journalism of the University ofWisconsin. The text of the several chapters corresponds to the lecturesthat are given in preparation for, and in connection with, the study ofthe various kinds of news stories. These Suggestions for Studycorrespond to the exercises by which the students learn the applicationof the principles embodied in the lectures. Hence these suggestions aregiven mainly from the instructor's point of view; however, a slightalteration will adapt them to home or individual study. Although theygive very little practice in news gathering, they enable the student togain practice in the writing of news--in accordance with the purpose ofthis book. The reporter who is studying the business in a newspaperoffice may use them to advantage in connection with his regular work. 

EXERCISES FOR THE FIRST CHAPTER

 1. Collect clippings of representative news stories, printed in the daily papers, to be used as models. 

 2. Keep a book of tips of expected news in your town or city. 

 3. Study news stories in your local paper and try to determine from what source the original news tip came. Try to discover from the story the routine of news gathering which furnished the facts. 

 4. In the same stories try to determine what persons were interviewed; frame the questions that the reporter might have asked to secure the facts. The instructor may impersonate various persons in a given news story and have the students interview him for the facts; this is to assist the student in learning to keep the point of view and to keep him from asking ridiculous questions. 

 5. Try to discover what stories in any newspaper are the result of actual reporting by staff reporters--point out where the others come from. 

 6. Notice the date line on stories that come from the outside, and learn its form. 

EXERCISES FOR THE SECOND CHAPTER

 1. Watch for local stories that seem to be worth sending out; determine what element in them makes them worth sending out; calculate how far from their source they would be worth printing. 

 2. Study the news value of stories that are printed in the local papers; determine why they were printed. Look for the same things in stories with date lines in the local papers. 

 3. Determine what class of readers any given news story would interest. 

 4. Notice the time element (timeliness) in newspaper stories. 

 5. Try to determine the radius of your local paper's personal news sources: how near the printing office one must live to be worth personal mention. 

 6. Watch for local stories whose news value depends upon the death element, upon a prominent name, a significant loss of property, mere unusualness, human interest, or personal appeal; see what the local papers do with these stories and whether the local correspondents send them out. 

 7. Analyze the nature of the personal appeal in stories that are printed only for their personal appeal. 

 8. Notice how local reasons change the news values of local stories. 

 9. In any or all of these stories determine what the feature is. Distinguish between the fundamental incident which the story reports and the additional significant feature which enhances the news value of the fundamental incident. 

EXERCISES FOR THE THIRD CHAPTER

 1. Run over the Style Book at the end of this book; note the essential points in newspaper style. 

 2. Give the principal rules for the preparation of copy. 

 3. Glance over the "Don'ts" in the Style Book. 

EXERCISES FOR THE FOURTH CHAPTER

 1. Study the form and construction of news stories, especially simple fire stories. 

 2. Pick out the feature of each story--the additional incident in the story which increases the news value of the story itself--and see if the striking feature has been played up to best advantage. 

 3. Notice how the reader's customary questions--what, where, when, who, how, and why--are answered in the lead. Make a list of the answers in any given story. 

EXERCISES FOR THE FIFTH CHAPTER

 1. Collect good fire stories appearing in the newspapers. Study the construction of the lead and the order in which the facts are presented in the body of each story. 

 2. Write the leads of fire stories. The chances are that actual fires will seldom occur at the time when the student wishes to study the writing of fire stories, but the instructor may give his class, orally or in writing, the facts of a fire story. He may use imaginary facts or he may take the facts from a story clipped from a newspaper--the latter method is better because it enables the instructor to show the students, after they have written their stories, just how the original story was written in the newspaper office. The facts should be given in the order in which a reporter would probably secure them in actual reporting so that the student may learn to sort and arrange the facts that he wishes to use, and to select the feature. The instructor may even impersonate different persons connected with the story and have the class interview him for the facts. This method is to be followed throughout the whole study of news story writing. (In individual study, practice may be secured from writing up imaginary or real facts. )

 3. In these first fire stories, use fires that have no interest beyond the interest in the fire itself--that is, no feature. Begin the story with "Fire" and devote the lead to answering the reader's customary questions. 

 4. Look for newspaper fire stories that are not correctly written and reconstruct the lead according to the logic of the fire lead. That is, strive for conciseness and cut out details that do not properly belong in the lead. 

 5. Make a list of the reader's customary questions concerning any fire and write out the briefest possible answers. Then construct a lead to embody these answers. Determine which answer should come first and which last, according to importance. 

 6. Write the bodies of some of these stories. First list the facts that are to be presented and determine the order of their importance. 

 7. Emphasize the separateness and completeness of the two parts of the story--the lead and the body of the story. Test the leads to see if they would be clear in themselves without further explanation. 

 8. Strive for brevity, conciseness and clearness; wage war on all attempts at fine writing. 

EXERCISES FOR THE SIXTH CHAPTER

 1. Study fire stories which have features--an interest beyond the mere fire itself--and see how the newspapers write them. 

 2. In a feature fire story of Class I. , make a list of the reader's customary questions concerning the fire, as if it were a simple fire story, and a list of the answers. See if any answer is more interesting than the fire itself, or if its presence makes the story more interesting. Show that such an answer is the feature. 

 3. Write fire stories with features in some one of the reader's customary answers. (Class I. )

 4. Study a simple fire story and try to imagine what things--properly answers to the reader's customary questions--might happen to give the fire greater news value. This will show the student how to look for the feature of a story. 

 5. Write the lead of any fire story in as many different ways as possible, striving in each one to play up the same feature. 

 6. Study a simple fire story and try to imagine what unexpected things might occur in connection with the fire which would be of greater interest than the fire itself. Show that these would be features and that they do not fall within the answers to the reader's customary questions--i. E. , they are unexpected. 

 7. Write fire stories with features in unexpected attendant circumstances. 

 8. Make up lists of dead and injured; notice how the newspapers arrange and punctuate these lists. 

 9. Study fire stories with more than one feature. Work out the possibilities in any given fire along these lines. 

 10. Write fire stories in which there is more than one feature worth a place in the lead. Try various combinations in the lead to discover the happiest arrangement. Show how one of many striking features may be of so much importance as to drive the other features entirely out of the lead. 

EXERCISES FOR THE SEVENTH CHAPTER

 1. Count the number of words in the sentences and paragraphs of representative newspaper stories. 

 2. Practice writing fire leads that might be printed alone without the rest of the story. 

 3. Take a fire lead and experiment with various beginnings to show the possibilities:

 a. Noun--experiment with and without articles. B. Infinitive--Distinguish infinitives in "to" and in "-ing. " c. _That_ clause. D. Prepositional phrase. E. Temporal clause. F. Causal clause. G. Others. 

 Show that any of these beginnings may be used in the playing up of any one feature. 

 4. Study how a name may overshadow an interesting story; determine when a name is worth first place in a lead. Study the practice of representative papers in this--do not hesitate to show how a paper has been illogical in beginning certain stories with an unknown name, for everything one sees in a newspaper is not ipso facto good usage in newspaper writing. 

 5. In students' stories, notice what the principal verb says and point out any misplaced emphasis. 

 6. Wage war on "was the unusual experience of" and "was the fate of" in leads. 

 7. Try to avoid "broke out" in fire leads. Devote the space to more interesting action. 

 8. Cut out all useless words in students' exercises; strive for brevity. Go through a student's story and weigh the value of each word, phrase, and sentence; cut out the useless ones or try to express them more briefly. Do the same to actual newspaper stories. 

 9. Weigh the value of every detail introduced into a lead and cut out the unnecessary ones; relegate them to the rest of the story. 

 10. Wage war on all meaningless generalities; demand exactness. 

 11. Refer the class to the Style Book in this volume and require them to follow a uniform style. Point out the differences in style of various papers. 

 12. See if the bodies of students' stories mean anything without the presence of the leads. Require the body of the story to be separate and complete in itself. This need not, of course, be carried to the point of repeating addresses given in the lead. 

 13. Try writing a story by simply elaborating and explaining the details mentioned in the lead of the story. Determine what facts must be added. 

 14. See if any story can stand the loss of its last paragraph. Determine how many paragraphs it can lose without sacrificing its interest. 

 15. In writing the body of a fire story, list the facts that are to be told, in their logical order; thus: origin, discovery, spread, death of firemen, escapes, injuries, rescues, explosion, extinguishing of fire. Number them in the order of their importance. Try to build a story out of these by following the logical order and at the same time crowding the most interesting facts to the beginning. 

 16. Practice getting the facts of a story by means of interviews. The instructor may have the students determine what persons they wish to interview for the facts and the instructor may impersonate these persons in turn. The class may then write the story from the facts gained in this way without reference to the interviews. This is for selecting and arranging facts in their logical order. 

 17. Practice the use of dialogue in stories. Judge its effectiveness and show that in most cases it is well to avoid dialogue. 

 18. Practice rewriting long stories into short press dispatches of 150 words or less, considering the different news value. 

EXERCISES FOR THE EIGHTH CHAPTER

 1. Collect clippings of other kinds of news stories. 

 2. In writing these other stories use the fire story as a model; the facts may be presented as they were in the fire story. 

 3. Study the possible features in accident stories; write accident stories with various features; make lists of dead and injured. 

 4. Study and write robbery stories with various features; distinguish between the various names applied to robbery and to the people who rob. 

 5. Study and write murder and suicide stories with various features, striving in each case to give the facts without shocking the reader. Show how the featureless murder or suicide story is very much like a featureless fire story. 

 6. Study and write riot, storm, flood, and other big stories. 

 7. In the study of police court news have the class go to the local police courts and report actual cases. 

 8. Send the students to report meetings. Report conferences, decisions, etc. Insist that the story begin with the gist of the report in each case and never with explanations. 

 9. Write stories on bulletins, catalogues, city directories, etc. Study them with reference to their timeliness and try to discover what in them has the most news value. Require the student to begin with this element of news value and to give the source (the name and date of the bulletin, etc. ) in the lead. 

 10. Look over the daily papers and pick out news stories which bury the gist of their news and have the students rewrite the leads to play up the real news or to give greater emphasis to buried features. 

EXERCISES FOR THE NINTH CHAPTER

 1. Collect good examples of the follow-up and the rewrite story; follow one important story through several days' editions to see how it is rewritten day by day. Examine an afternoon paper's version of a story covered in a morning paper. 

 2. Take any news story and work out the follow-up possibilities; imagine what the next step in the story will be. 

 3. On this basis, write follow-up stories and rewrite stories. 

 4. Write a follow-up story which, while beginning with a new feature, retells the original story. 

 5. Study and write follow-up stories involving fires, accidents, robberies, murders, suicides, storms (present condition), etc. 

EXERCISES FOR THE TENTH CHAPTER

 1. Collect good examples of speech reports. 

 2. Take notes on oral speeches and write reports of varying lengths. Practice taking notes in the proper way and write the report at once--perhaps as an impromptu in class. The instructor may send his students to public lectures or read representative speeches to them in class. 

 3. Write reports of speeches from printed copies of the speech; that is, edit them in condensed form. 

 4. Take one lead and experiment with different beginnings, playing up the same idea in each case. 

 5. Discuss speeches to determine the newsiest and timeliest thing in the speech--the statement to be played up in the lead. 

 6. In the body of the report try to use as much direct quotation as possible, use complete sentence quotations, do not mix quotation and summary in the same paragraph or sentence. Study the rules regarding the use of quotation marks. 

 7. Have the students write running reports of speeches--that is, have them write their report as they listen to the speech and submit their report in this form. Naturally the lead must be written later. 

EXERCISES FOR THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER

 1. Collect representative interview stories. 

 2. Have students interview various people without the aid of a note book; have them bring back quoted statements by the use of their memory. Have them interview some one who will criticize their manner and method. 

 3. Have a definite reason or timeliness for every interview--have the student map out a definite campaign beforehand. Try writing out the questions beforehand in shape to fill in the answers. 

 4. Write interview stories from the results of these attempts. 

 5. Begin the same interview story in various ways. 

 6. Write an interview story in which the feature is a denial or a refusal to speak; tell what should have been said and what the denial or refusal signifies. 

 7. Study the form of the body of the report (see Speech Reports). 

 8. Write stories which are the result of several interviews on the same subject; arrange them informally and formally. 

EXERCISES FOR THE TWELFTH CHAPTER

 1. Collect examples of good court reports. 

 2. Attend and report actual cases in the local courts (preferably civil courts). 

 3. Determine what is the most interesting thing in each. 

 4. From this, write court reports--reports of the cases which the students have heard. 

 5. Experiment with the various beginnings for the same report. 

 6. Try summarizing a case in one paragraph. 

 7. Practice getting down testimony verbatim. 

 8. Practice summarizing testimony in indirect form. 

 9. Practice writing out the testimony in full in the various ways. 

 10. Write testimony with action in it for the sake of human interest. 

 11. Show how all of these may be combined into one good court report. 

EXERCISES FOR THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER

 1. Notice how various newspapers treat social news; study the reason in each case; collect examples. 

 2. List the facts of a wedding story; write short and long wedding stories. 

 3. Write wedding announcements, beginning in various ways. 

 4. Write engagement announcements. 

 5. Write up receptions, banquets, dinners, etc. ; report actual functions. 

 6. Write announcements for the same functions. 

 7. Write up some unusual social story as a news story. 

 8. Practice writing obituaries and simple death stories with accompanying obituary. Write sketches of the lives of prominent people. 

 9. In these exercises use actual events as subjects. 

EXERCISES FOR THE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER

 1. Study sporting stories for their material and method. 

 2. Report a football game or some other sporting event. 

 3. Make a running account of a football or baseball game. 

 4. Write a brief summary of the game to be sent out as a dispatch, limiting it to 150 words. 

 5. Write up the same game in 200-300 words; attach a condensed running account of the same length. 

 6. Write a long story of the same game, following the outline given in the text; attach a detailed running account by periods or innings; compile tables of players and results for the end. 

 7. The study of sporting news may be taken out of its logical place and studied during the baseball or football season. 

EXERCISES FOR THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER

 1. Collect human interest and newspaper feature stories. 

 2. Watch for material for human interest stories; look at the facts in your other news stories in a sympathetic way and see how they could be made into human interest stories. 

 3. Write human interest stories on facts given by the instructor and on facts discovered by the students. 

 4. Write animal stories, and witty comments on the weather. 

 5. Write up some timely local subject as a 1500-word feature story. 

EXERCISES FOR THE SIXTEENTH CHAPTER

 1. Gather good theatrical reports and watch for those in which the whole report is written around a single idea. 

 2. At the theater watch for things to comment on; try to bring away one definite idea about the play--with illustrations. 

 3. Write dramatic criticisms that are the embodiment of a single idea or criticism on the play. 

 4. Try to point out the bad things in a play without being bitter or personal. 

 5. Write a half-column of copy on a vaudeville show, supposing that the copy is paid for and must praise, not only the show as a whole, but each individual act. 

EXERCISES FOR THE SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER

 1. Notice the form and punctuation of the date line: MADISON, Wis. , Feb. 29. --

 2. Notice the writing of street addresses: 234 Grand avenue, 4167 Twenty-sixth street; 3857 138th street; (without "at"). 

 3. Notice in the use of figures--sums of money, hours of day, ages, figures at the beginning of sentence. 

 4. Notice use of titles; use of Mr. Before a man's name--always give a man's initials or first name the first time you mention it in any story. 

APPENDIX II

NEWS STORIES TO BE CORRECTED

(The following stories have been prepared to illustrate some of the mostusual mistakes in newspaper writing. They may be rewritten or used asexercises in copy-reading. As a class exercise, the student may reviseand correct these stories _without recopying_, just as a copy-readerrevises poorly written copy. )

 I

 Shortly after 2:30 this morning fire

 broke out in a pile of old papers in the

 basement of the Harmony Flat building, at 1356 Congress avenue, a four-story

 eight-apartment structure. Two firemen

 were killed by a falling wall. 

 The fire had a good start before the

 janitor, Michael Jones, who sleeps in the

 basement, awoke. He turned in an alarm

 and ran through the halls awakening the

 occupants. The people on the two lower

 floors escaped in their night clothing by

 the stairways, but the fire spread very rap-

 idly, the occupants of the upper floors be-

 ing forced to flee down the fire escapes in

 the rear. 

 When the firemen put in an appearance, Mrs. Jeanette Huyler appeared at a third

 story window and called for help. An ex-

 tension ladder being hoisted, she was res-

 cued without difficulty. During the fire

 the wall on the east side fell and killed

 Fireman John Casey and Jacob Hughes;

 Fireman Williams Jacobs was hit on the

 head by a brick and seriously injured. 

 The fire was extinguished before it

 spread to an adjoining three-story flat

 building on the west. 

 The firemen in searching the ruins

 found the body of a man who was later

 identified as Rupert Smithers; he was 70

 and occupied a lower flat by himself. The

 janitor said that he was deaf and prob-

 ably did not hear the warning. The three

 dead and injured firemen belong to Hose

 Co. No. 24. 

 Loss $50, 000, fully insured. 

 ----------

 II

 The police have arrested John Johnson, 23 years old, 2367 Sixth Street, charged

 with murdering Mrs. Laura Buckthorn, the well-known proprietor of the Duchess

 Restaurant, 438 High street. He is now

 in the county jail. 

 Mrs. Buckthorn was sixty years old and

 the widow of one of the oldest settlers in

 the city. 

 She lived in her small cottage at 2367

 Sixth Street and supported herself by

 means of the restaurant. John Johnson, a

 street car motorman occupied a room in

 her cottage. Mrs. Buckthorn was found

 dead in her bed, in a pool of blood, with

 two bullet holes in her head this morning. 

 Mrs. Grady, the restaurant cook said, "I

 became alarmed when Mrs. Buckthorn did

 not appear as usual at the restaurant this

 morning and went to her home to find

 her. "

 Inquiry showed that Mrs. Buckthorn

 had drawn $250 from the First National

 Bank yesterday and her daughter, Mrs. 

 J. D. Jackson, 1548 Sixth Street, says that

 her mother often kept such sums of money

 at home under the mattress of her bed. 

 Mrs. Jackson also says that she often

 warned her mother against such habits. 

 The money was not under the mattress

 this morning. 

 Further inquiry showed that John Johnson

 did not appear for work as usual this

 morning and was later found by Police-

 man Patrick O'Hara in the railroad yards. 

 He had with him $223. 67 and a ticket to

 New York. He was known to be hard up

 but refused to account for the money and

 was given a berth in the county jail. 

 Samuel Benson, cashier of the First Na-

 tional, is sure that the two 100-dollar

 bills which were found on Johnson are the

 same bills that he gave to Mrs. Buckthorn

 yesterday afternoon. Johnson will be

 given a hearing to-morrow but it is al-

 ready considered certain that he is the

 guilty party, the evidence being so strong. 

 (This story may be rewritten for local use and for a dispatch. )

 ----------

 III

 Sparks, resulting from the grounding

 of an electric wire, ignited a bucket of gas-

 olene and fired the shop of the G. W. 

 Smith Motor Co. , at 228, 232 West street

 last night, five automobiles valued at

 $5, 800 being destroyed and the building

 being damaged to the extent of 6, 200 dol-

 lars by fire. 

 The insulation on the wires of an exten-

 sion light that Edward Flasch, one of the

 repair men was using became cracked, the

 wire grounding as a result. The sparks

 fell into a bucket of gasolene standing

 nearby and in a few minutes the entire

 building was ablaze. G. W. Smith, pro-

 prietor of the garage, said that he was sit-

 ting in his office at the time of the explo-

 sion and tried to put the fire out with sand

 but could not get the blaze under any con-

 trol. He then started to run out as many

 machines as possible. 

 Six cars, valued at $9, 000 were saved. 

 ----------

 IV

 Madison, September 25th, 1912; With

 a loud deafening roar that violently

 aroused hundreds from their beds of slum-

 ber the monster gas holder occuppying

 the southwest corner of South Blount and

 Main Streets at the gasplant of the Madi-

 son Gas and Electric Company collapsed

 very suddenly at 6:sO a. M. This morning, and now lies partly submerged in water, a total wreck. The damage will be fully

 25, 000 dollars, but there will be no inter-

 ruption to the service the company's excel-

 lent reserve equippment being immediately

 brought into action for the emergency. 

 The cause of the explosion was at first

 clothed in deep mystery before the officials

 of the company had time to make any in-

 vestigation. 

 However it was definitely ascertained

 during the morning when Mr. John W. 

 Jackson, the secretary and treasurer of the

 company, being interviewed by a Daily

 News correspondent this morning, stated

 that the immense quantities of snow on

 the roof of the holder was primarily re-

 sponsible. The weight of the snow on

 one side of the holder causing it to drop

 down broke the wheel and pushed the

 holder off the foundation on which it was

 standing. There was a momentary blaze

 but when the tank settled down into the

 reservoir below the fire went out and the

 awful peril from this highly dangerous

 source was fortunately averted. 

 As it was dozens of windows at the

 planing mill on the opposite side of the

 street were all left intact. In fact no dam-

 age whatsoever outside of the holder re-

 sulted from the unfortunate accident. 

 Two workmen, Jacob Casey and Nelson

 Jones, were unfortunately caught beneath

 the wreckage and their bodies were

 removed later in the morning by the fire

 department. The tank was full when it

 collapsed and that it did not scatter de-

 struction and take more innocent lives

 was one of the fortunate features of the

 accident and a great cause for congratula-

 tion among the officials of the company

 today. 

 (This story illustrates, among other things, excessive wordiness. )

 ----------

 V

 After being chased by a young woman

 for several blocks, a man who gave his

 name as John Weber, was pursued through

 a saloon at 11-97th street by Policeman

 Arthur Brown and captured on the roof of

 a building adjoining the saloon, where the

 man had hidden behind a chimney. Weber

 was arrested by the policeman and is held

 on a charge preferred by Charles Young, a

 grocer at 2145 Sixth avenue, of attempt-

 ing to rob Young's grocery store. 

 According to Young, just before he

 closed his store for the night last evening, a young man entered the store and asked

 for a pound of butter. "I thought, " said

 Young, "that the man was just married

 and might be a possible new customer. I

 started for the back of the store to open a

 new tub but just as I turned to go, he hit

 me over the head with his cane. The

 blow dazed me but I still had sense enough

 to grab him by the collar. In the fight we

 both fell through the glass door at the

 front of the store and the d--n rascal got

 away. " A young woman, who was pass-

 ing the store, seeing the fracas, screamed

 and started to run after the young man. 

 She followed him until he ran into a sa-

 loon. Then she ran up to Policeman

 Brown, who was standing at the corner of

 97th st. And Sixth-av and told him that a

 robber had gone into the saloon. The po-

 liceman ran into the saloon, but found the

 man had left by the back stairs. The po-

 liceman followed up two flights of stairs

 leading to the roof, on the run, where he

 found Weber hiding behind a chimney. 

 Weber refused to give his address. 

 After watching until she saw the robber

 taken away in the paddy-wagon, the

 doughty young woman disappeared. Her

 name is unknown. 

 ----------

 VI

 A burglar dressed in a Salvation Army

 uniform was arrested for attempting to

 burglarize Walter White's home, 16 West

 62nd st. At about two o'clock last night. 

 He gave his name as Julius Woll and his

 address as 129 23rd ave. 

 The caretaker at Walter White's said

 he was awakened at 1 o'clock by the noise

 of bureau drawers opening and he at once

 phoned to the station. An officer came

 and found the would-be burglar under the

 bed. After considerable scuffling the man

 was arrested and taken to the station. 

 The Salvation Army denied any connec-

 tion with the prisoner but the landlady at

 his address said he had two uniforms and

 always wore one. He also carried a

 prayer book under his arm whenever he

 left his room. She also said that he had

 resided in her house for six weeks and

 owed four weeks board; also that he had

 not been there for two weeks. Inquiry

 proved that he was out regularly until

 three or four in the morning. 

 ----------

 VII

 The wedding of Mr. James Henry, 1463 Seventh Street, and Miss Sarah

 Jones, last night at the home of the bride's

 parents, at 316 North Johnson Street, was

 a brilliant success. 

 Fifty guests were present and the pres-

 ents which they brought all but filled the

 parlor. After the ceremony a seven-

 course banquet was served until 11:30

 o'clock. Miss Sadie Jones rendered "The

 Rosary" to the accompaniment of Mr. 

 John Field. 

 The bride wore a gown of pink taffeta

 and carried sweet peas. The bridesmaid, Lily Swenk, was dressed in white muslin. 

 The groom and best man, Mr. Arthur

 Howles, wore conventional black. Rev. 

 Stone of the First M. E. Church officiated. 

 The groom is a promising young law-

 yer of this city. His bride is one of the

 city's leading young society woman, being

 deeply interested in the Womans' Suf-

 frage League. There marriage is the re-

 sult of a love affair begun at the univer-

 sity and is the cause of heart-felt congrat-

 ulations from their friends. After a trip

 to the Coast, the happy couple will reside

 in this city. 

 ----------

 VIII

 "What we need in our universities are

 sportsmen and not sports, " said President

 G. E. Gilbert of the Western University, in the convocation address yesterday aft-

 ernoon at four o'clock. "The sportsman

 plays for the game, but the sport plays for

 the victory. "

 The President continued, "Before the

 battle, and during the battle, the

 sportsman can be told from the sport. "

 It is the actions of the man, he

 said, when he is in the test that determine

 to which class he belongs. The President

 summarized the various college

 activities and showed how the two

 classes of men appear in each different

 activity. And in each, as the President

 said, "you can tell the sportsman from the

 sport. "

 "I think that this, the relation between

 the sportsman and the sport, is the truest

 analogy that can be applied to human life. 

 Life as a sea, life as a battle, life as a river

 in which you must always paddle your

 own canoe upstream, life as a hill-climbing

 contest--all these analogies have their

 weaknesses. But life as a game is a true

 analogy. "

 The President concluded with a glowing

 tribute to our university. 

 ----------

 IX

 FAULTY LEADS

 Evading the police by sliding down a

 rope fire escape from a hotel window, Jo-

 seph Matus, charged with robbing a lum-

 ber jack of $125, escaped the police

 temporily only to be arrested an hour

 later at the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. 

 Paul depot. 

 ----------

 Ignited by the breaking of an electric

 lamp, a tank of whiskey containing 7, 705

 gallons exploded and threw Francis Tab, 120 W. 139th St. , thirty feet against the

 opposite wall at the E. J. Jimkons Com-

 pany, 40th street this morning. 

 ----------

 Fire of unknown origin started in the

 big lumber yards owned by Charles John-

 son at 763 Clinton Avenue, yesterday aft-

 ernoon. The yards and one million feet

 of lumber were totally destroyed. The

 entire district between Mitchell street and

 the South River was in danger of total

 destruction, according to fire Chief Casey. 

 ----------

 Fire starting in a shed on West street

 caused the total destruction of the First

 Baptist church and the death of two fire-

 men killed by falling walls. Loss $120, -

 000. 

 ----------

 Trade war is the only probable result

 of the abrogation of the Russian treaty, was the statement of the Hon. Frank J. 

 Blank, secretary of State, before a large

 and enthusiastic audience at the opera

 house last evening. 1800 people packed

 the building to overflowing. 

 ----------

 John Jones, a workman, who was

 slightly injured when a thousand pounds

 of powder exploded and wrecked the

 Three-Ex Powder mill last night, was

 taken to the St. James hospital. 

 ----------

 The presence of mind and coolness of

 Mrs. J. B. Sweeny, 758 North Street, saved little Johnny Sweeny from death

 last night when she caught him by the

 coattail and dragged him from beneath

 the fender of a street car. Mrs. Sweeny

 was dragged 50 feet by the car and taken

 to the St. Luke's hospital in an ambulance

 that was hastily summoned. 

 ----------

 Falling through a street car window

 without receiving so much as a bruise was

 the unusual experience of Michael Casey

 last night on Main Street. Michael was

 not intoxicated--so he says. 

 ----------

 Recklessly driving his automobile over

 the curb on Smith street, Mr. James

 White, who resides at 764 Smith street, was fatally hurt by a careless chauffeur, who was unable to handle his machine

 and skidded at the corner near Mr. 

 White's home. 

 ----------

 At a meeting of the Sane Fourth com-

 mittee in the city library last evening

 at seven thirty, it was decided that Smith-

 town must pass a law forbidding the sale

 and use of cannon crackers. 

INDEX

 A

 Abbreviations, 287. Accidents, 3, 107-109, 291. Accuracy, 145, 168, 209, 212, 290. Addresses, style of, 278, 279, 286, 288, 290, 310. Advertising, 28. Ages, how written, 286. Animal story, 253. Announcements, of engagements, 210; social, 212; stories on, 121; wedding, 209. Article beginning, 43, 80. Assignments, 5, 29. Associated Press, 10. Association, City Press, 10, 193. Athletic news, 219-232, 278, 283. 

 B

 Baseball stories, 219. Beat, or run, 5, 29. Beat, or scoop, 6, 30. Beginning of lead, 80, 89; with article, 43, 80; with name, 57, 85, 161, 175, 180, 195, 249; with time, 47. Beginnings of court reports, 195-200; of human interest stories, 244-250; of interview stories, 179-187; of speech reports, 151-164. Big story, 5, 31; following-up of, 140; handling of, 116; resulting interviews from, 176, 187. Bills, stories on legislative, 121. Body of the story, 45, 76; discussion of, 91; of court reports, 200; of follow stories, 129; of human interest stories, 250; of interview stories, 185; of news stories, 122; of obituaries, 216; of speech reports, 164. Book, of tips, 3, 295; style, 33, 276-293. Box, 32, 188. Break, to, 31. Brevity, 13, 206, 217, 231. Brief summary athletic story, 222. Bulletins, stories on, 121. Business office, 28. 

 C

 Capitalization, 276-281. Circulation, 15, 28. City editor, 2, 29. City Press Association, 10, 193. Classes of readers, 16. Clause beginning of lead, 82. Clean copy, 30. Clearness, 91, 104, 123. Clippings, 295. Coherence, 166, 266. Column, 32. Compositor, 30. Compounds and divisions of words, 285. Concreteness, 104, 293. Conferences, reports of, 119. Continued case beginning, 196. Coöperation in newsgathering, 10, 193. Copy, 30; preparation of, 289. Copyreader, 29. Copyreading, 311. Corrected, stories to be, 311. Correspondent, work of, 2; instructions to, 11, 223. Court reporting, 4; discussion of, 192-203, 281. Cover, to, 29. Crime, stories on, 110-116. Criticism, dramatic, 259-275. Crowd, used as feature, 68. Cub reporter, 28. Cynicism, 235, 252. 

 D

 Datelines, 283, 310. Dates, how written, 278, 286, 290. Day city editor, 29. Dead, lists of, 63. Death element, 3, 22, 61, 73, 107. Decisions, reports of, 119. Definiteness, 104. Desk man, 29. Despatch, 12, 222. Dialogue, use of, 103; in court reports, 200; in human interest stories, 245, 251; rules for, 283. Dictation of stories, 298. Diction, 290-293. Directories, stories on, 121. Distance, effect of, 11, 20. Division of words, 285. _Don'ts_, in dramatic reporting, 265; in general, 290; in leads, 85-90. _Down_ style, 33. Dramatic reporting, 259-275. 

 E

 Editing, 30, 144. Editor, 29; day or night city, 2, 29; sporting, 29, 219; state, 2; Sunday, 29; telegraph, 2, 29. Editorial room, 28. Editorial writers, 29. Elections, 3, 277, 281, 288. Emphasis, 102. Engagement announcements, 210. Entertainments, reports of, 210. Exaggeration, 22, 89. Expected news, 3. 

 F

 Faults in news stories, 75-104. Faulty stories to be corrected, 311. Feature, the, 27, 31, 37, 41, 50, 106-122, 125, 150, 175, 195, 228, 244, 266; crowd as, 68; death as, 61, 73; exaggeration for, 89; fire fighting as, 67; _how_, 57; in accident stories, 107; in football stories, 219-232; in human interest stories, 233-255; in murder stories, 114; in police stories, 118; in robbery stories, 110; in speech reports, 150; in suicide stories, 115; injuries as, 65; more than one, 70; playing up of, 27, 31; property threatened as, 66; rescues as, 65; unexpected attendant circumstances as, 60; _what_, 55; _when_, 54; _where_, 52; _who_, 57; _why_, 51. Feature fire story, 50-74. Feature social story, 213. Feature story, the special, 31, 255. Featureless fire story, 41-49. Figures, news value of, 24; use of, 283, 286, 290. Fine writing, 124, 213, 218, 251. Fire story, 39, 41, 50, 75, 105, 122. Fires, 3, 4, 7, 39, 41, 50, 75, 105, 122. Follow, or follow-up, story, 32; relation of, to court reports, 197; relation of, to interviews, 187; writing of, 125, 130-140. Following up related subjects, 140. Football stories, 219-232. Form of the news story, 34-40. Freak leads in speech reports, 163. 

 G

 Gathering the news, 1-13; in athletic reporting, 230; in court reporting, 193; in human interest stories, 234; in interviewing, 169; in reporting speeches, 144. Generalities, meaningless, 89. Gist, 31, 36, 233, 243, 266. Grammar, 78, 84, 123. Group interviews, 187. 

 H

 Heads, headlines, 27, 30, 78, 188. Hospitals, as news sources, 4. _How_, feature in, 57. Human interest stories, 17, 24, 32, 178, 185, 191, 198; discussion of, 233-255. Humor, 24, 198, 214, 241. Humorous story, 241. 

 I

 Infinitive beginning of lead, 81. Injuries, feature in, 65; list of, 64. Instructions to correspondents, 12. Interest, 14, 35, 92, 102, 104, 141, 179, 192; human, 17, 24, 32, 178, 185, 191, 198, 233-255. Interview stories, 175-191. Interviews, for facts, 6, 103; for opinions, 6, 141, 169-191; group, 187. 

 K

 Keynote beginning of speech report, 158. Killing a story, 30. 

 L

 Lead, 31; beginning of, 80, 89; _don'ts_ in, 85-90; in athletic stories, 223, 227; in court reports, 195-200; in fire stories, 39, 42, 50, 77-90; in follow stories, 127-140; in human interest stories, 233; in interview stories, 179-185, 188; in obituary stories, 214; in other news stories, 106; in speech reports, 147-164; length of, 75; main verb of, 86. Leaded, 32. Length, of lead, 75; of paragraphs, 75; of sentences, 76. Line-up of teams, 232. Linotype, 30. Lists of dead and injured, 63; of guests, patronesses, etc. , 211, 282; of names, 282. Local interest, 21, 26. Long football story, 226. Loss of life, 22, 61, 73; of property, 23, 55. 

 M

 Mailing stories, 13. Main verb of lead, 86. Make-up, making up, 31, 37. Manner, reporter's, 172. Marriages, 206. Meaningless generalities, 89. Meetings, reports of, 3, 119, 291. Money, sums of, 281, 286, 290. Morgue, 4, 216. "Mr. ", use of, 287, 292, 310. Murders, 113. 

 N

 Name beginning, in court reports, 195; in human interest stories, 249; in interview stories, 175, 180; in news stories, 57, 85, 108-116; in speech reports, 161. Names, prominent, 23, 57, 108-116, 150, 161, 178; use of, 276, 277, 280-283. Narrative order, in athletic stories, 227; in court reports, 200; in human interest stories, 250; in interview stories, 185; in news stories, 34-40, 92-102; in obituaries, 215; in speech reports 166; in wedding stories, 207. News, 14-27, 125; agencies for gathering, 10, 193; coöperation in gathering, 10, 193; expected and unexpected, 3; gathering of, 1-13, 144, 169, 193, 230, 234; sources of, 4, 29; sporting, 219-232, 278, 283. New story, 34-124. News story form, 34-40. News tips, 3, 30, 295. News values, 11, 14-27, 38, 41, 204, 233. Newspaper terms, 28-33. Night city editor, 29. Nose for news, viii. Notebook, 170. Note taking, in athletic reporting, 230; in court reporting, 194; in dramatic reporting, 267; in interviewing, 170; in speech reporting, 144. Noun beginning of lead, 80. 

 O

 Obituaries, 214. Order of narrative (see Narrative order). Outlining of a story, 99. 

 P

 Paragraph length, 75, 290. Paragraphing, 48, 75, 166, 186, 290. Participial phrase beginning for lead, 83, 158. Parts of a news story, 46, 76, 91. Pathetic story, 238. Pathos, 24, 198, 238. Personal appeal, 25, 249. Personal news, 20, 204. Photographs, 13. Playing up, 31; of the feature, 27, 31. Point of view of newspaper, 8. Police court news, 4, 118. Policy, 26. Political news, 25. Practice, 294. Preparation of copy, 289. Prepositional phrase beginning, 82. Press Associations, 10, 193. Printed matter, stories on, 121. Prominent names, 23, 57, 108-116, 150, 161, 178. Proof, 30. Proofreader's signs, 32, 290. Property losses as features, 23, 55. Property threatened as feature, 66. Public records, 4. "Punch, " 13. Punctuation, 281. Purpose of newspapers, 14. 

 Q

 Q. & A. Testimony, 201, 283, 288. Queries, 12. Questions, reader's customary, as features, 51; in fire stories, 38, 42, 50, 77; in follow stories, 132; in human interest stories, 233; in interview stories, 179; in obituaries, 215; in other news stories, 106; in speech reports, 150. Quotation beginnings, direct, 151, 153, 183, 198, 245; indirect, 154. Quotations, 103, 146, 164, 186, 189, 200, 284. Quoting, rules for, 284. 

 R

 Range of news sources, 20. Readers, classes of, 16. Reader's customary questions. _See_ Questions. Receptions, 210, 291. Rehashing, 125-130. Related stories, 140, 176, 187. Releasing a story, 31, 144. Reporter, 2, 28, 170, 186, 219, 235, 258, 259, 292. Reporting court news, 192-202, 281. Reports, dramatic, 259-275; of meetings, conferences, decisions, etc. , 119; of speeches, sermons, lectures, etc. , 143-168. Rescues as features, 65. Rewrite man, 125. Rewrite story, 32, 125-130. Robberies, 110, 291. Runs, or beats, 5, 29. Running a story, 30. Running story, 31, 189, 200, 223, 227. 

 S

 Sarcasm, 274. Scoop, or beat, 6, 30. Season story, 257. Second day story, 32, 125, 130-140. Sensationalism, 18, 90, 234. Sentence length, 76. Sermons, reports of, 3, 143-168. Set up, to, 30. Simple fire story, 40-49. Slang, 28, 292. Slash, to, 37, 92. Slug, 30. Sob squad, 236. Social announcements, 212. Social news, 204-214. Sources of news, 4, 29. Speaker beginning, 161, 180. Special feature story, 255. Speech reports, 3, 143-168, 284, 291. Sporting editor, 29, 219. Sporting news, 219-232. Staff, 28. State editor, 2. Stenographic reports, 144, 194. Stickful, 32. Stories to be corrected, 311. Storms, 3, 116. Story, 30; baseball, 219-232; big, _see_ Big story; body of, _see_ Body of the story; faults in news, 75-104; feature fire, 50-74; fire, 38, 40, 105, 122; follow, follow-up, or second day, 32, 125, 130-140; form of news, 34-40; news, 34-40, 50, 75, 105-124; on announcements, bulletins, and other printed matter, 121; on legislative bills, 121; parts of news, 45, 76, 91; police court, 118; related, 140; rewrite, 32, 125-130; running, 31, 189, 200, 223, 227; simple fire, 41-49; special feature, 255; summary athletic, 222; unusual social, 213. Street numbers, 278, 279, 286, 288, 290, 292, 310. Style, 13, 33, 103, 233, 251. Style Book, 33, 276-293. Suggestions for study, 4, 294. Suicide stories, 115, 291. Summary beginning, for court reports, 197; for interview stories, 182, 188; for speech reports, 157. Sums of money, 281, 286, 290. Sunday editor, 29. Superlatives, 222, 292. 

 T

 Tables of athletic results, 232, 283. Taking notes. _See_ Note taking. Telegraph editor, 2, 29. Telegraph queries, 12. Telephone, use of, 13. Terms, newspaper, 28-33. Testimony, 200. _That_-clause beginning, in interview stories, 182; in speech reports, 154. Theatrical news, 259-275, 284. Time, indication of, 281, 286. Time beginning, 47. Timeliness, in general, 19; in human interest stories, 238, 256, 286; in interviews, 176, 187. Tips, 3, 30, 295. Title beginning of speech report, 160. Titles, use of, 276, 277, 279, 282, 284, 287, 290, 292. Track news, 219, 223. Truthfulness, 8; in general, 290; in human interest stories, 239; in interviewing, 179; in speech reporting, 145, 168. Typewriter, use of, 289. 

 U

 Unexpected attendant circumstances, 60. Unexpected news, 2. Uniformity, 33, 34, 289. United Press, 10. Unusual social stories, 213. Unusualness, 24, 213. _Up_ style, 33. Uplift run, 236, 254. Usual football story, 223. 

 V

 Values, news, 11, 14, 27, 38, 41, 204, 233. Vaudeville reports, 264. Vernacular, newspaper, 28. Vividness, 104, 114, 116. 

 W

 Weather story, 256. Wedding announcements, 209. Wedding story, 206. _What_, as feature, 55. _When_, as feature, 54. _Where_, as feature, 52. _Who_, as feature, 57. _Why_, as feature, 51. Wordiness, 87. 

 Y

 Yarn, 30. 

 +---------------------------------------------------------------+ |Transcriber's Note: | | | |Inconsistencies in spelling, hyphenation, punctuation and in | |spacing in abbreviations have been retained as in the original, | |along with deliberate misspellings and errors in "News Stories | |to be Corrected" in Appendix II. | +---------------------------------------------------------------+