The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-04-26
THE STORY OF A SCOOP"
Business Mans "Reminiscences, with No
Particular Moral.

From Letters from Self-Made Mer-
chant to His Son." by George Horace Lori
mer By permission of Small, Maynard &
Co., publishers, Boston, Mass.]
Speaking of bull pups that turned out to
be terriers naturally calls to mind the case
of my old friend jeremiah Simpkins's son.
There isn't a soldier man in the Boston
leather trade than jeremiah, nor bigger
scamp that the law can't touch than his
son Ezra. There isn't an ounce Of real
meanness in Ezra's whole body, but he's
just naturally and unintentionally MAYER
ick. When he came out of college his
father thought that few years experience
in the hide department of Graham & Co.
would be a good thing for him before he
tackled the leather business. So wrote
to send him on and 1 would give him a
job, supposing, of course, that / was get
ting yearling of the steady, old, reliable
Simpkins strain.
/ was a little uneasy when Ezra reported,
because he didn't just look as IL he had
had call to leather. He was tall, spare
New Highlander, with one of those knobby
foreheads which has been pushed out by
the overcrowding of the brain, or bulged
by the thickening of the skull, according as
you like. or dislike the man. His manners
were easy or familiar by the same stand
ard. He told me right at the start that,
while he didn't know just what he wanted
to do, he was dead sure that it wasn't the
leather business. 1t seemed that he had
said the same thing to his father and that
the old man had answered, Tut, tut, and
told him to forget 1t and to learn hides.
Simpkins learned all that he wanted to
know about the packing industry in thirty
know about Ezra in the same time. Pork
packing seemed to be the only thing that
he wasn't interested IN. l got his resigna-
ton one day just five minutes before the
one which 1 was having written out for
| him was ready; for / will do Simpkins the
| justice TO say that there was nothing slow
about him. He and his father split up,
| temporarily, over ii, and, OF course, 1T cost
| me the old mans trade and friendship. i
want to say right here that the easiest
| way in the world to make enemies Is to hire
| friends.
/ lost sight of Simpkins for awhile, and
| then he turned up at the office one morn
| ing as friendly and familiar as ever. Said
| he was a reporter and wanted to interview
| me on the December wheat deal. or course
1 wouldn't talk on that, but gave him a
| little fatherly advice-told him he would
| sleep in a hall bedroom all his life II he
didn't quit his foolshness and go back to
| his father, though 1 didn't really believe
| it, He thanked me and went off and wrote
! a. column about what L might have said
| the impression that / had said it.
The next 1 heard of Simpkins he was
dead. The Associated Press dispatches an
nounced it, the Cuban Junta confirmed It,
| and last of ALL a long dispatch from Simp-
kins himself detailed the circumstance
| leading up to the "atrocity'' the head
| lines in his paper called ii.
| / got long wire from Ezra's father ask
| ing me to see the managing editor and get
| at the facts for him. 1t seemed that the
| paper had thought heap of Simpkins and
| that he had been sent out to Cuba as a
correspondent and stationed with the in
| sl,rgent army Simpkins In Cuba had EVIL
IDENTIFY lived up to the reputation Of Simp-
| kins in Chicago. When there was any
news he sent it, and when there wasn't he
| just made news and sent that along.
The first word of his death had come In
his own letter, brought across on a fill
! clustering steamer and wired on from Jack
| sonville II told with close attention tC
detail-something he had learned since he
left mellow he had strayed away from
the little band of insurgents with which
he had been out scouting and had blum.
dered into the Spanish lines. He had beer
promptly made a prisoner. anu despite his
| papers proving his American citizenship
and the nature of his job and the red cross
on his sleeve he had been tried by drum
shot at dawn. All this he had writer
| out, and then, that his account might b.
| complete, he had gone on and imagined
his own execution. This was written in {
| sort of pigeon-or perhaps you would cal
| il black Spanish-English, and let on TO b,
the work of the eyewitness, to whom
Simpkins had confded his letter. He hat
been the sentry over the prisoner. and fol
a small bride in hand and the promise Of
| a larger one from the paper he had turned
| his back on Simpkins while he wrote on
| the story and afterward had deserted an(
carried it to the Cuban lines.
The account ended: Then, as the order
to fire was given by the lieutenant. Senol
Smpkins raised his eyes toward heaven and
lean citizenship . At the end of the let
ter, and not intended for publication. wa.