The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1896-03-03
JACK JONES.
The Story of How he Came to be Jacl
Jones, Journalist.

JSANSJ
1t was while 1 was city editor Of the
Daily Globe in a hustling, wide awake
Western town, that l made the &C
quaintance Of Jack Jones, Journal
ist."
1 was not in a specially amiable
mood that afternoon. The Blizzard,
our bitterest and smartest rival, had
poked up pretty sharply in its latest
issue, and our editor in chief, who was
also proprietor, had entrusted to me
the unpleasant but necessary duty Of
replying. I was sharpening my pen
Gil and my wits for the occasion, when
there appeared in front of my desk,
cap in hand, a pleasant featured, bright
eyed lad, who said that he was looking
for a j )b, and that if the Globe wanted
another reporter he would like to try
his hand at the business.
What do you come bothering US
fOr?' said l, annoyed at having my
train Of thought interrupted. why
don't you go to the Blizzard if you
want w0rk?'
Because" answered the youth,
frankly, Il thought if I was going to
try the newspaper business I'd like to
begin on the best paper"
80 you think the Globe is a better
paper than than the Blizzard, do you2'
said l, somewhat Modified.
Yes, sir"
well, that proves you to be a lad of
discernment, anyhow. How old are
you2'
Sixteen"
"Name?"
Il vas named John ". Jones, after
my father, who is dead, but every
body calls me either Jack Jones or
just plain Jack"
Father been dead Iong?"
Two years, and I'm through the
grammar school now, and I've got to
work and help support mother and
Robbie"
who is Robbie2'
He's my little brother. He's only
) years old, but he's smarter than a
steel trap. l wish you could see him
once"
well, Jack" said I, I'm sorry,
but there Is no vacancy on our report
orial staff just now, and you are rather
to young for such a position, anyhow.
But our office boy, or devil, as we call
him, has just left, and if you care for
that place at five dollars a week I'll
send you to Mr.. Blown, the proprietor,
and see what he says about it,"
I'D like to start as reporter" said
the youth, in tones of disappointment,
because the well, the rest of the
boys will laugh at me m-r3 than ever
if they hear I'm only a printers
devil"
You see one day in school, the
teacher asked us boys what profession
in life we expected to follow; l said
journalist, and ever since that they
have called me Jack Jones, Journal
ist. They think it a good joke, but
I'll make them call me that ID earnest
before many years, l hope. If l begin
as office boy. how long will it be before
I can be a reporter?"
That depends entirely on yourself,
on your aptitude for newspaper work
and how hard you try to learn the
business"
We'll, I'll take the place, if you can
get it for me, and do my best"
Picking up my pencil, l dashed eff
the following note to the proprietor:
Here is a lad, name Jack Jones,
who ospires to be a journalist. Wanted
position az reporter, but concluded
that printers devil was better than
nothing, There seems to be good ma
terial In him, and if you approve, l
I will give him a trial"
sent him up to Mr.. Browns office
on the floor above, with this intro
duction, and in five minutes he came
back with a blue pencil O. K. across
the face of it, and in five minutes more
Jack had his coat eff and was hard st
work.
| think there was a more vii
ling and obliging printers devil than
that same Jack; at least l never saw
or heard Of one. Early and late he
was on hand, ready for whatever
duties he was called upon to perform,
and these were by no means light. But
no matter how erduOus or d~i5tastetul
the task assigned to him, be went at 1t
~cheerfuiiy, and, although some OF the