Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1883-01-26


Concerning Thurlow Weed, the Warwick of
American politics. the world has long had in.
innate knowledge but Thurlow Weed, tho
practical philanthropist was comparatively
unknown, even TO his most intimate associates
Whatever may have been true of his earlier
and more active days, when he was the power
behind the throne and one Of the most potent
Of all agencies in public affairs, it is certain
that the last two decades of his life were
crowded with kindly deeds. His home in
West Twelfth street. New York city, was the
resort Of the stricken in purse and spirit, no
less than the Mecca of aspiring politicians.
Years ago-and for years-there was a sight
to be witnessed every Saturday afternoon in
front of that Twelfth street home not to be
seen anywhere else in New York II was a
score or of little girls, all neatly but poorly
dressed, who were weekly applicants for his
bounty, and none of whom ever left his door
empty-handed Once when a committee of
one called at his house on a Saturday after
noon with a carriage, to invite him to attend
the first reception of the New York Press club,
crowd of these little ones were before his
door. MIR. Weed expressed the pleasure it
would give him to meet the working journal
lists of the city-or, as he said, ''the boys in
harness"-but added "you must wait until 1
feed my chickens" After the children had
been loaded with his gifts, he proceeded to
the rooms of the Press club where he gave
some good advice to those Just entering upon
the road he had traversed to its end. He
frankly admitted that day, as he always did
in his declining years, the great change that
had taken place in journalism since he was an
active member of the profession. No man
knew better than he in his later years that the
newspaper had become the vehicle of infor-
nation rather than of opinions. As he once
tersely put it, ''the world doesn't care what
an editor thinks about fact, but it does care
great deal for the fact itself"
Yet there was never a more omnivorous
reader of newspapers, although latterly he
used the eyes of another instead of his own
usually those of the daughter who devoted
her life to him. 1t was not political news
alone that claimed his attention, but all the
record of events, great and small, that com
bine to make up the daily journal. This fact,
together with the benevolence of his charac-
ter, came to the knowledge of a reporter for
daily paper in a peculiar way some years
ago. The reporter had been detailed tOa case
of distress which had been reported to the
office. In the performance of this duty he
encountered one of those pictures of misery
only to be seen in great city of startling con-
trasts like New York. 1t was a bitter cold
night in the latter part of November, and in
room on the top floor of an East-side tene-
ment house, in which there was neither fire
nor food and no furniture save two remnants
of chairs, q woman was found with two little
children. The next morning description of
the scene was published, together with state
ment of the cause Of the woman 8 misfortunes;
and in the afternoon a second call was made
for the purpose of giving her a small amount
which had been sent TO the Office, when she
was found in comparative comfort. A stove
had made its appearance, there was a supply
of coal, the closet was filed with provisions,
and mother and children were supplied with
stout shoes and warm stockings. The woman
described her benefactor so minutely that the
reporter at once recognized Mr.. Weed. When
inquiry was made of him as to the fact, Mr..
Weed admitted that he had "helped the wom-
an little, " but exacted promise that it should
not be mentioned in the newspapers nor has
the incident ever been published till now.
This case is not mentioned in detail because
it was at all an anomaly in the life of the vet
eran journalist, but rather as typical of the
man in that aspect of which the world knows
SO little.-Editor'S DrdUer in February Hdr-
Dey'S