The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1882-01-27
THE PRESS.
Sagebrush Sketches.
How Mark Twain's Brightest Effort Was
Kept from Print.


er Of the paper. One night a new saloon was
opened-one of the gorgeous affairs of polished
woods, mirrors, fine cut glass, silver ware and
wines and liquors that would do for the side
board of a fashionable metropolitan club-one
Of those surprises that cause equal wonder and
delight to strange travellers in sagebrush lands
1t was an important occasion, as its elegance
and two faro games were evidences of prosper
Gus times, which every investor in mining
camp property had already learned to believe.
1t was an event, the knowledge of which in
San Francisco was worth more as an advertise
ment to this young camp than strike of $500
rock. 1t reflected dignity and stability upon
the camp, and in more ways than one gave its
merchants courage in asking credit of San
Francisco.
Thus it was that Mccarthy said to Mark
Twain: "Sam, we must notice this opening
tonight, and as l had rather do an editorial on
the Precision of the Equinoxes' than write a
business notice, you will have to do il"
The ethics of journalism sometimes SO lapse
in mining camps that the managing and city
editors do, upon limos, talk in this friendly,
easy way with each other.
"There is box of assorted wines and liquors
in the other room," Mccarthy added, land
perhaps you may get some inspiration from
that"
In those days Clemens never wrote anything
that was not funny, or alleged to be SO, and he
determined, after viewing the box of assorted
inspirations, to write funny business notice.
The idea in itself struck him as something
funny, and he lit his pipe in Just the right
mood to do good work
HIS PREPARATIONS.
He took out of the box all the bottles and
arranged them in a long row, with the wines
of simple names FIRST and the more difficult
ones following in order to the last bottle, which
contained wine of complicated, mixed and
impossible to be pronounced name. Sam
thought he would do rather neat thing by
describing each bottle as though he were SAM
plng from each, and in such a manner that
the reader would be wildly impressed with
the belief that the writer had started in sober
and continued writing and sampling and de-
scribing until he was in a state of diagonal in
ebriety. The progressing complexity of names
would assist the effect very much, and with
the work all planned out in advance Clemens
sat down, smoking industriously, and only re-
ferring to the labels of the bottles. He wrote
we'll in peculiar conceit with the idea, and in
order to keep strictly to his work until through,
never uncorked a single bottle. Mccarthy
who went into the local room Just as Clemens
had finished, and heard the article read, told
me only short time ago that Mark Twain
never before or since did more artistically
grotesque piece of work than that same "star
QotlCO. 4Uo copy WAS passed ID, ana ABOUT
one O'Clock in the morning Clemens returned
to the office to read proof of the article.
He had only read little while before his
eyes began to bulge out and next he clutched
his hair in desperate rage. His pet idea, his
quaint conceit, read straight and matter of
fact like any ordinary business notice. He
gasped and called for the copy. The foreman
brought it, and to him the now speechless and
ivid humorist pointed out what had been
done. TIE foreman took both copy and proof
into the composition room, and yelled out,
What inspired idiot set this saloon notice of
Mr.. Clemens?"
AN AsTUTE CoMPosIToR.
The man who had set the article (the Enter
prise locals were not read by copy them ad-
vanced to the foreman, took him one side and,
with a knowing smile, said: 81 set that thing,
but as soon as got through few pages I saw
plainly enough that Clemens was drunk-aw-
full drunk-when he wrote it, so Strengthened
the whole thing ont. 1 wouldn't have taken
the trouble, only heard Mccarthy swear the
other day that the next time Clemens got
drunk he'd let him out"
When this was told to Clemens he took his
blue pencil and crossed the proof, remarking
in strained, hard voice: "When a printer
does set out to be humorist he beats h"
Denis Mccarthy, Joe Goodman, Mark
Twain, Dan de guile, Judge "Charlie" Good
win and Il. NJ. Daggett all more or less widely
known now, have at times given each their
distinctive features to the pages of the Enter
prise, aud at one time the first four, think
worked on the paper together. Then they
would adjourn in the cool of Summers even,
ing to the old brewery down in the Six Mile
Canon, where McCarty would order beer
Goodman made sweltzer kase sandwiches, Gle
mems softly climb the fence of a neighboring
garden in search of sprout onions and Dan de-
guile, tell startling lies to the landlord until
that worthy was in such a confused state of
mind that kQaniOu ANYTHING like q
score of beers and sandwiches was out of the
question. After that they would return up
town as Clemens would say, to circulate among
our constituents, gentlemen, with breaths smell
ing like buzzE;ds, STRIP
Judge Goodwin and Congressman Daggett
went to the Enterprise afterward, and although
McCarty and Dan de guile are the only ones
of the six who have stuck to the Comstock,
they have all said and written, and still do
say and write, many pleasant things about the
sagebrush land.
AN AMUSING INCIDENT.
And this reminds me OF an incident was
witness to in the Enterprise editorial rooms
only few years ago. A kid glove mining ex-
pert from this city happened to be in the rooms
and looking out of the east window, at the
great sweep of hills away over to the Hum
boldt Mountains, the Carson Sink, the twenty
six mile desert-but all colored with the pre-
vailing sombre sagebrush hills, turned away
Il.
what dreadful thing it would be to die here
and be buried among those hills" Goodwin
dearly loves those hills, and as Sam Davis had
been playing the fiddle at his house the night
before, he felt particularly savage that after
noon. He fixed his cold gray eyes upon the un-
happy expert, and in a voice he fetched from
the lowest levels of his chest, said: Dreadful
for you to die and be buried in those hills?
Yes, sir, dreadful for those hills, for your lit
tleneSs would irritate them until they spewed
you out, to mock the breath of heaven. Sir,
what right have you to look at those hills?
You cannot see the stern nobility of their
lines and colorand very bleakness. They prompt
no thought to you, sir, of mailed sentinels out
watching death in silent faithfullness. What
right have you to speak of those hills, whose
maiesti grandeur ever beckons mortals to no
bier, purer, higher ambitions, to-damn you,
sir. Good day. I'm busy"
spoke of Sam Davis fddling, and / re-
minded myself that q sketch of sagebrush
newspaper men, with no mention of Sans i'd
die, would be indeed incomplete. Not that
Sans fiddle is a newspaper man, or anything
like that, but If l could manage to say few
kind things about that fiddle feel that / would
gain the deep regard of everyone of the frater-
nifty who ever met Sans fiddle and Sam at the
same time. The fraternity would feel that
even at this late day the first pleasant word
about Sam and his fiddle would be acceptable,
as q novelty. Take 'em apart and neither was
bad; though how Sam would look apart, l don't
know, and as for the fiddle, when not in use it
was kept securely locked in a sheet iron case,
80 none of his friends ever had an opportunity
TO take it apart That iron case was the only
evidence of an appreciation of his friends feel
ings towards the fiddle ever knew Sam to dis
play. But, as I said, taken separately, neither
the fiddle nor Sam was objectionable. To-
gether, however, they effected combination
calculated to convince listener of the total de-
pravity of inanimate things for Sans total
depravity, unaided by the tiddle's could never
have produced such unhappy and painful re-
suits. No amount of moral suaslon ever did
any good with Sam or the fiddle when they got
together. Peaceful neighborhoods have been
devastated, and childrens confidence in the
business of Providence totally destroyed through
one short season of Sam and his fiddle. His
seasons always were short, for shocked and dis
appointed landladies kept him moving from
place to place when they found there was no
way of stealing the fiddle. L hear Sam has re-
moved to Salt Lake, and if he has his fiddle
with him l can suggest a way of solving the
Mormon problem, if any one will suggest way
of protecting Sam from the Mormons while he
plays the fiddle at 'em.