Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1903-12-30
! HIS BIG NEWS BEAT. !
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by VICTOR SMITH.
by VICTOR SMITH.


M EWSPAPER reporters have sc
IN many narrow shaves that they
learn TO love danger. What other mer
style "heroism" is to them a mere
matter-of-fact monotony of drudgery
1t IS regarded as unprofessional te
dodge an assignment, no matter what
its difficulties or perils. Every duty is
in effect a leap in the dark when il
involves the unraveling of mystery
and there is no happiness greater than
taking ones life in ones hand and
scoring beat"
In my sappy days there were anx-
tous moments, but good luck and some
wit pulled me through. One morning
being early at the Office, the assistan,
city editor Informed me that a murder
had been committed in the southern
part OF New Jersey.
1T may be big story" he said;
"do you think you can handle it,"
No reporter living would have an
swered in the negative.
"vOu have never been out on q muir
der, have your
mo. But Id like it,
well, so down and see what you can
do with this. want to give you a
chance"
At II o'clock was en- route; at sight
o'clocl:-nine hours later-I arrived in
a small village 81 miles from New
York. 1t was in the heart of the cram
berry country. The place was dark.
At a modest inn I ran into a group of
villagers who were speaking solemnly
about the crime. AS usual in such
cases, they eyed strangers with sus-
picion. When their eyes fell on me, l
knew I was marked man.
At first no one would give me the
slightest information. I had at best
four hours in which to dig out the
story and put in on the wire. That
meant hustling. A little questioning
here and there soon led the group to
understand that was reporter for a
New York paper, and every man shut
up tighter than clam. Other report
ers had been there ahead of me, and
all had gone out into the country three
and one-half miles to interview the
family of the murdered man.
mot a man of 'em got any news
here" said the inn keeper, "and you're
wasting time
Il suppose every man Of you is a
friend of the alleged murderer" VEN
tured.
Maybe so, an maybe not. What
leads you to say that?'
Because if there were friend of the
victim here he would speak out and
help me to find the murderer. Of
course l can't expect you fellows to
talk"
That seemed to strike them. One
took me aside and whispered;
IF you want to find an enemy Of
Bradwell, who is suspected of the
crime, why don't you go and see ex-
Sheriff Watts? He's right around the
corner, and maybe he'll fill you full of
CUFF. I guess he's about the only man
In the village who's dom any tall<in'"
The ex-sheriff was easily approached,
worked, he exclaimed:
THAT'S my paper. I've took 1t nigh
on 40 years, an I don't mind tellin'
you jest what know about this terri
BILE affair. l think know-I think 1
know-all the parties, the motive, and
when the deed was DONE"
We sat In his Office an hour, and he
did indeed fill me full Of one of the
most amazing stories ever told, and
with such minutia of detail that in
stinctively knew he told the truth. l
soon had two or three columns in my
mind and few notes.
It was unnecessary to ask him to
leave something to the imagination,
Cor no Imagination could picture an
improvement upon his narrative.
"Now," he said in conclusion, give
put you in the way Of gettin' at the
whole affair."
II must see the family of the MUIR
.dered man, and, if possible, should
like to interview the murderer"
GAS to the former, l will drive you
out to the farm in my buggy; as to
the latter. you'd better wait till to-
morrow"
We went out to the farm at a fast
trot, arriving there at a little after
ten O'Clock. had long talk with the
widow, her handsome daughter of Is,
( and her two sons, boys of Is and Is,
respectively. Everything ex-Sheriff
Watts had told me was vouched for
by the family, and I learned many
4 other interesting, nay, startling, Incl
dents which. in his haste had been
overlooked. 1t is unnecessary here tn