nette, neither handsome nor homely, neither strong nor weak. He would not have attracted attention anywhere, except in a crowd of undersized people. But to me he was the embodiment of much that was great: courageous youth, surpassing enterprise, lavish wealth, devotion to high ideals, journalism militant in the people's cause-to me he was all of these. After a brief talk with his managing editor, he walked through the big editorial room to the elevator. The night was showery, and he wore a handsome belted mackintosh which came almost to his heels, and gave him an imposing appearance. He lighted a pipe while waiting for the elevator. The smoke and flame formed a halo about his head. An office boy, gazing awe-struck, whispered: "Gee! but ain't he a great guy!" Mr. Hearst must have been talking to his managing editor about the special Easter edition, for after he left, the managing editor gave orders to the night city editor about it. He told him to send reporters to show copies of the colored supplement to preachers, get favorable interviews upon it, and have a page of the interviews well displayed in the next morning's issue. "throne room, When the managing editor had retired to the "the city editor looked about him in despair. Then he shut his jaws grimly, picked up a copy of the city directory, and called his staff about him. He pointed to a stack of Easter supplements. "Each of you take a bunch of those," he said, "and try to get interviews from the min isters whose names will be on a list I'll give you. Remember, we've got to have some interviews. Most of the sky-pilots are probably in bed by this time, but Mr. Hearst is in town, and a good showing must be made. If you can't rouse the preachers, why-well, we've got to have two dozen interviews indorsing this grand and beautiful and gorgeous and scintillating supplement. We've simply got to do it, you know. It would break Mr. Hearst's trusting young heart if we didn't. "Well, if you go to one of these addresses, and can't get anyone to the door, why, come back and write what you think the minister would have said or ought to have said-about this supplement. If the minister objects to what's printed, we'll say, 'Someone gave out this interview, and the reporter thought it was you. It may have been a burglar or a night watchman. The reporter was deceived, for the person represented himself as you.' Remember, we're up against it, and we've just got to have the interviews." Though a rewriter, and not a reporter, I was pressed into this service. I was given a list of four names and addresses. I actually tried to get one interview, from a preacher who didn't live far out. He talked to me through a speaking-tube. He declined to come to the door, and he wouldn't discuss such a subject at such an hour. I returned downtown. At an all-night resort near the office, where certain liquids were to be had, I met several fellow staff members. One of them said he had waked up a well-known West Side minister, who opened an upstairs window and asked what was 0 as wanted. The reporter had flourished a paper in the moonlight, and cried out: "See this beautiful Easter supplement of Hearst's Chicago American! What do you think of it? Pretty fine, isn't it? I want an interview for to-morrow's paper. We'll run your picture along with it." The preacher's head had disappeared for a moment, and when it reappeared the reporter was drenched with ice water. Another reporter said a preacher had threatened to set a bulldog upon him. Still another had been told that he would be arrested if he didn't go away. A revolver had been pointed at a fourth journalist's head. He had been hammering on a window-pane after having failed to awaken anyone by ringing the door-bell. Only one printable interview had been obtained. It was from a new minister, who had been working late on his Easter sermon. We all returned to the office and wrote four interviews apiece. We compared them before turning them in, to make sure that we hadn't quoted any two preachers alike. Altogether, twenty such interviews appeared the next morning. With pictures, they filled one entire page. At ten o'clock the following night the managing editor came from his "throne room" and gave out another Napoleonic order. Mr. Hearst and he himself had been so well pleased with the interviews that they wanted another page of them for the next morning. They got the interviews. They were more quickly provided than on the first night. No time was wasted. We took the names from the city directory. Inspiration came from a nearby resort. The forthcoming Easter supplement had captivated the fancy of two score of Chicago's representative clergymen-if what was read in the American was to be believed. "The beautiful story of Christ's rise from the tomb, told by illustrations in color, made from masterpieces of art," was praised in the highest terms by all. Returns began coming in the following week. There were letters expressing surprise, pain, anger, indignation, fury-sometimes all of these in a single letter. Through an arrangement with the office boy who looked after the mail, most of these epistles were made to disappear. One communication looked dangerous. It threatened exposure from the pulpit and a suit for libel. It was from the Rev. Dr. Robert A. Torrey, head of the Moody Institute, and successor of the famous Evangelist Moody. I had written the Torrey interview. The night city editor showed me the letter, and said: "You'd better go and jolly up Dr. Torrey a bit, and try to stave off that libel suit. If you don't, we may all shoot the chutes." I called at the Moody Institute. I was admitted to Dr. Torrey's private office. I promised a retraction. "A frightful injustice has been done you, Dr. Torrey," I said. "The guilty reporter, I am glad to say, is known. He will write no more such interviews for the American (which was true). We will tolerate nothing like that on the paper. It is very strange that this should have happened.' |