Richland beacon., 1880-07-24
The New York Reporter.

A reporters life is not happy one:
He is the slave of duty at all hours OF
the day and night. To-day he is here
tomorrow there. On Monday he may
be among thieves and murderers. on
Tuesday among politicians and states
men, and on Wednesday among ladies'
and gentlemen. He may he even among
all three on the same day. l remember
q cold, raw morning in February when |
had r. get up long before daylight and
make breakfast out of Oliver Hitch
cocks coffee and cakes and run for
train. That afternoon 1 found myself on
board Of a large European steamer.
which had stranded high and dry on the
New Jersey sands. | shared the cap
tain's dinner while the waves came DASH
Ing against the vessels side with force
tna' threatened to make us food for sea
& m. 5 any moment. l came back
wet and weary that night, but there was
no rest for me yet 70 DelmdVcos l
must 90, as soon as could change my
clothing. and partake Of great banquet.
Such is the life Of a newspaper reporter.
He knows not at any time where he will
take his next meal. He often is sent
from a wedding to funeral, or from
ball in the Academy to a murder at the
Five Points. Like an army on the march.
he must always have his baggage pre-
pared, for at five minutes notice he may
be sent several hundred miles where
skirt-collars and handkerchiefs are I'M
known. He may be sent to scOur the
hay for missing Jersey shanties, or Long
Island woods for mysteriously disappear
ing personages.
Not only must the reporter be able to
tell an interesting story. hut he must
also, if he wants to earn his salt, have
knowledge Of the world and possess that
tact and discretion which comes of such
knowledge. Young men fresh from some
inland college. who come to New York
newspaper offices under the impression
that reporting is something that they
can do if they cannot do anything else,
are quickly undeceived. One half Of the
ews which is printed in the local col
INNS every morning is obtained from
people who do not care to furnish it, and
who have to be run down" very often
with As much skill as the most cunning
# foxes. And for all this the reporter
is paid but little more than the average
mechanic. 1t may surprise some of You
TO learn that he gets even that much.
but he does if he is good for anything.
That good ones get no more is mainly
due to the fact that there are SO many
bad ones competing with them.
Yet with all the drawbacks of long
and irregular hours. inadequate remun-
Grafton and "assignments" that are often
uncongenial, there is a charm about a
reporters life which all who have ever
been members Of the profession must ac-
knowledge. There is a romance con-
nected with it which does not entirely
die out of even the older members who
now keep to it because they have been
spoilt for anything else. The new genera
ton of metropolitan reporters, which
differ considerably from the old, is kept
to its work probably more by this flavor
of the adventurous than any thing else.
The Bohemian spirit of poetry and beer
has almost died out and the ranks are
recruited from class which has less Of
the literary ind more of the 'be up and
doing" spirit about it. They want an
active life and they find it here. As they
grow older. however, they become more
straight in their desires and there are
consequently constant droppings out.
Either they work their way into the edi-
torial chairs on they go into some other
profession or business and their places
are filled by newcomers, who, nowadays,
are generally graduates of the leading
colleges. So then. here is
To the truthful reporter
Who never prints but what he oughter;
An example sublime
OF the men Of his time.
George c. Clement.