The Goodland republic. [volume] (Goodland, Kan.) 1891-1907, 1894-05-04
AREPORTER'S STORY.

'Write for The Times! Do you imagine
you went to college for that? You can't
write.''
slave you ever given me the chance ?"
mo. But know you couldn't. I dare
say you've been counting on doing this,
ell ?'' The younger man bowed. 'tAnd
have been laying in a stock of flowing
rhetoric and fine-spun theories the elder
continued. "Rumph! The Times wouldn't
pay in months time if we fed the public
on stuff of that sort. What it wants is food
of another kind"
"What's to prevent my providing it as
well as the other writer's on the staff? Is
my college education to be drawback to
me? If it is"
The sentence was left unfinished, and
the elder man silently returned to his work
of glancing over some copy spread out on
the desk before him. When he had finished
the last page, he turned to the first and
wrote "m. g." across the top.
"What does that mean ?'' George Stanton
inquired.
''Those letters stand for must go.''
''Then whatever bears them goes ?''
His uncle surveyed him with grim
smile lighting his face.
sits apt to-" he said dryly.
"Then anything l might write would be
printed, regardless of its merit, if you so
marked t?''
Certainly. But you must remember that
an uncle indulgent to faults, and the pro-
prietor of this paper-a successful business
enterprise-are two distinct PERSONAL
ties
(which you bear, understand. But
surely literary merit cuts some figure"
'Um-if the name of the writer who pos
sesses it is we'll known, it does"
''NOt otherwise ?''
The elder man shook his head emphati-
cally. "Pve no use for 'em.''
"Why, that makes out the newspaper of
today money making machine of the
lowest order" George Stanton exclaimed,
Indignantly. 1The brains of the concern
are subservient to the business ofice.''
"Exaetly."
There was a pause, during which the
younger man tipped back his chair against
the wall and gazed abstractedly at the
ceiling. At length he brought the legs OF
the chair to the floor with emphasis.
S6llA (l1db IL lSLi leilA tI1et6 !
shouldn't be given trial. he remarked.
81 suppose you've got a batch of manu-
scripts all ready to fire at me.'' The
nephew'S face flushed. 81 thought So
Well, 1 don't want 'em. Now see here
what this paper wants isn't rhetoric, il
isn't eloQuenee, it isn't philosophy, it ISM
literary merit, as you call tits just life
plain, everyday lie. I wouldn't publish
the most beautiful flight of fancy that was
ever written-I've no use for that sort
But life-things near, local. personal-givt
me those. If you keep your eyes and ear:
open, you'll find more tragedy IN one BLOCK
of San Francisco than in the whole o.
Shakespeare"
"Then you give me the chance ?''
Frederick Stanton heSitated .'It's oper
TO you the same as it is to ALL" he replied
indifferently; you would be paid for spac,
work at our regular rates, providing We
accepted it. Mind you, don't say I'll tax,
what you write
sButif it suits, you'll sm. g. it9''
"If it SUITS the other repeated, Iittl
saTcastically, with movement which
closed the interview.
A week later the young man again pre-
scented himself in his uneie's private Office
tive followed your advice, Uncle Fred
and taken life for my subject He threw
himself into chair and gave twist to Ii
head in The direction of the inner door. l
was slightly ajar, and he rose and shut i
before he resumed 'sYou see, what yol
said about the tragedies of life-and, 0
course, l inferred that you meant tn
comedies as WeIi--being right under on
noses, as it weres set me to thinking
Meantime, have found ont the true mean
ing Of yonr mystic letters. Whatever bear
them must goSn the columns If fAe mex
tissue, regardless Of times space or cihe