Evening star., 1895-03-16
ABOUT EDITORS
STORIES

The venerable Joseph Medill, publisher
of the Chicago Tribune. is man of money,
leisure and fadsii "A fad is pernicious un-
less one has money and time. But Medill
has all three. and it's all right. One of
the white old editor'sy fads is bacteria.
Whatever happens, from the income tax
to tidal wave MedfH' is inclined to at
tribute to bacteria. On his paper, COM
| piling excellent and murh-needed editorials,
is a philosopher who also has a fad This
| wise mans pet weakness is sun spots.
| He has a telescope, and he takes daily
| stares at the sun Herewith, contemplates
| the unsightly blotches which disfigure its
| beaming face and eagerly notes the coming
| of new spots and lenders them. When the
| day is dying and the lowing herd winds
| slowly O'er the lea the sun spotter gazes at
| the moon, when that luminary is on top.
| But the sun is his favorite and sun spots
| the things for which he pines. And like
| Medill about bacteria, he firmly believes
that sun spots are the root of all things
earthly. from an increase in the census to
| a late fall.
When the grip seized Chicago by
| the nose the savant of sun spots at
| once identified the malady as the offspring
| of conditions which pivoted on one particu-
| lar sun spot of vast malignancy, which
1
| In the evolution of his engaging theory
he wrote a scientific article for the Sunday
| Tribune, in which he showed with lumi-
| nous exactness that sun spots, and espe-
| cially the spot he suspected, were wholly
| to blame for the grip. He was much pleas
| ed with his work. and told the Sunday ed
itor to send the revise to Medill, to the end
| that the great bacteriologist might revel i'll
| 1t, even before public alton. This was an
I error. Medill read the article with zest
and approval. 1t pleased him nightly
NtarN I,,k
sun spots" where it should say ''bac-
| terra" Otherwise it was a bird This err
| ror, however was trivial and one which
the experienced old editor could correct in
| a moment. He took his faithful pencil
! and went carefully over the revise and
| substituted bacteria" for "sun spots"
| wherever the mistake occurred Then If
came out IN the paper. or course the al
terations gave the article queer cant.
| II would run along with a sort of sun
| navor and solar effect until, Just as the
reader would begin to blink with the an
| tlc1pated flood of sunlight the text would
suddenly say bacteria" with harsh
| blunt jolt. 1t had all of that lumpy result
which one attains when freight caboose
te raves me track ana saunters over the
tles Medill liked it, but the sun-spot man
| did not. 'po' man
IL was at some kind of banquet where
men We're expected to be fattered and he
| iuii IN about even proportions. The toast
| 10 which Wilbur Story was scheduled to
| respond was THE Friends of the News
paper. Story's speech on that napkin oc-
easioh rather surprised them, and, indeed
'na' oii paihuhS OF. the great battle ak
editor which hangs in the House press gal
iery' and which, having been painted by
ms wife, might be expected to exhibit his
softest. tenderest eXpression-Would show
MN to be capable of surprising a more
uesperate e audience even than gathering
OF dinner eaters.
The friend of a neWspaper said Story
is an individual who wants the editor to
XIII something he ought to print, or print
something he ought TO kill. My paper de-
1t has been my ripe experience that an
enemy may be listed as an asset, and a
friend, debt" '4a y
When the Inter-Oceaa was new" said
Curtis. now the Washington correspondent
of Victor Lawson's Record, Il was hard at
work on its columns. We had been getting
out an excellent paper. One day the man
aging editor. who was proud of Inter-
Oceanic success and his part and lot there
in conceived in his wisdom and mercy
that 1t would be great piece of newspa-
per work to send around and interview
the other Chicago editors on What do
you think of the Inter-Ocean?' 1 was
delegated to put this conundrum to Will
ferocity. 1 was we'll dressed for it was
part of our assignments in those days to
wear good clothes to the end that the pub
lie gain rich. munificent impression of
the paper, and just pausng to take a
deeting glance in one of the cheval glasses
with which the reporters rooms were at
that time adorned, hied me to the Times
office and tripped lightly up the five flights
of winding stairs, which, in an ante-ele-
vator day. the man who painted to meet
Wilbur Story had to climb. His name was
on the door of his room, and all about in
the hall for twenty feet either way was a
four-inch tanbark pavement, to the end
that Story's nerves might not be disturbed
by passing footballs. This should have
warned me and invoked caution; but it
didn't. l strobe confidently to the door. and
without rap or warning threw it open. 1
had been looking forward with pleasure all
the way over to this meeting with Mr..
Story, and the making of his acquaintance.
Who could tell but what great good might
come of it? AS 1 pushed open the door
Story, who was writing at a table, looked
up with a glare of malevolent inquiry,
such as might have shone in the green eyes
of lion, who had been called for break
fast an hour too soon.
Mr.. Story I said jauntily and with the
feeling that the information l was about
to bestow would be followed by his invit-
ing me in for two hours chat, am a re-
porter on the Inter-Ocean, and have step
ped over to interview you about the paper,
and ask you what you think of it
There was an awful pause, and just as
I was wondering why he didn't ask me to
come in, he suddenly seized a paper weight
in one hand and paste pot in the other
and started for me. 1t is needless to say
that l leaped for the stairs. 1t began to
rain all sorts of that bijouterie which is
SO abundant in newspaper offices. The
stairs were circular. and as l swept round
the curves Story could get two shots at me
| on each floor. He threw ink bottles. paper
weights, shears-anything, everything. with
equal abandon and eclat. At last l es-
capped into the street and got back to the
Inter Ocean. convinced that l was lucky to
be alive. Thus did / for the one time in
my life interview that great journalist
Wilbur Story"
One time at o'clock a. m, the paper hay
ing just gone to press, Wilbur Story left
the Times building to go home. He had
feud with the gamblers, having attacked
them in his columns. One of these court
iers of fortune, with a taste to be a mur-
derer, was lying in wait for him. AS Story
came by the gambler stepped out and fired
a pistol at him point blank He missed
Story, prompt as flash and as brave as
julius Caesar, pulled pistol and shot him
down. The would-be assassin was only
wounded. With bitter determination Story
cock ed his piSfO1 and stepDed toward the