The Palatka daily news. (Palatka, Fla.) 1884-1888, 1884-06-04
The Old Printer.

Hawkeye
And so, year after year, he wrought
among the boys on a morning paper. He
went to bed about the time the rest of
the world got up, and he arose about the
time the rest of the world sat down to
dinner. He worked by every kind Of
light except by sunlight. There was can
dies in the office when he came in; then
they had lard oil lamps that smoked and
sputtered and smelted; then he saw two
or three printers blinded by explosions of
camphor and spirit gas; then kerosene
came in and heated up the news-room on
summer nights like furnace; then the
office put in gas, and now the electric
light swung from the ceiling and dazzled
his old eyes and glared into them from
his copy. If he sang on his way home a
policeman babe him 'cheese that" and
reminded him that he was disturbing the
peace and people wanted to sleep. But
when he wanted to sleep the rest of the
world, for whom he had sat up all night
to make a morning paper, rOared and
crashed by down the noisy streets under
his window, with cart and truck and
omnibus; blared with brass bands, howl
ed with hand organs, talked and shouted,
and even the shrieking newsbOy, with a
CHASTITY sarcasm, murdered the sleep Of
the tired old printer by calling the name
of his own paper.
Year after year the foreman roared at
him to remember that this wasn't an
afternoon paper, editors shrieked down
the tube to have blind man put on that
dead mans case; smart young proof
readers scrubbed sarcastic comments on
his work on the margin of his proof
sheets they didn't know how to read
long-winded correspondents learning to
write, and lOng-haired poets who could
never learn to spell, wrathfuIly cast all
their imperfectiOns upon his head. But
through it all he wrought patiently, and
found more sunshine than shadow in this
world; he had more friends than enemies.
Printers and foreman and pressmen and
reporters came and went, but he stayed
and he saw newsroOm and sanCtum filled
and emptied and filled and emptied again
and filled again with new strange faces
He believed in his craft, and to the end
he had silent pity, that came as near
being contempt as his good, fOrgiving old
heart could feel, for an editor who had
not worked his way from regular devil
ship up past the case and the imposing
stone.
He worked all that night, and when
the hours that are so short in the ball
room and so long in the composing groom
drew YEARLY on, he was tired. He hadn't
thrown in very full case, he said, and
he had to climb clear into the boxes and
chase a type into a corner before he
could get hold of it. One of the boys,
tired as himself-but a printer is never
too tired to be d-natured-offered to
change places with him, but the old man
said there was enough III the case to last
him through this take, and he wouldn't
work any more tonight. The type click
ed in the silent room, and by and by
the old man said:
''Tm out of sorts"
And he sat down on the low window
sill by his case, with hisstick in his hand
his hands folded YEARLY in his lap
The types clicked on. A galley of tele-
graph waited.
"What gentleman is lingering with .
1872" called the foreman who was always
dangerously polished and polite when he
was ON the point of exploding with wrath
and Impotence.
Slug Nine, passing by the alley, stop
ped to speak to the old man sitting there
so quietly.
The telegraph boy came running in
with the last manifold sheet, shouting:
Thirty"
They carried the old man to the fore
mans long table and laid him down rev
emily and covered his face.