The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1903-12-10
Reporters Unfinished Story

whole newspaper life had been connect
ed with it. So far as he was concerned
there was but one paper worthy the
name and that was the Courier. Not
that 1t was strange for Jack started by
selling the paper and had worked his
way up. He was 8 bright young fellow
! Of five and twenty years, who had the
natural nose for news and the love OF
the business which is so necessary to
the successful reporter.
From printers devil to the managing
editor there wasn't a man or boy on the
paper who didn't know and like Jack;
neither was there one who didn't know
| his life's story.
1T wasn't long, this history of Cart
wright's lyife, but was mighty inter-
esting.
At the age Of eighteen he was a live,
hustling newsboy, selling more Couriers
than any other boy on the street BY
his quick wit and bright ideas he had
attracted the attention of Preston, city
editor, and one day Jack gave him a
yarn, which proved to be the story of
! the day. Not a fact which Jack turned
\ which was essential to the making of
the story omitted, two of the character
istics which had chung to Jack through
out his entire career. That story was
the turning point in Jacks life. Pres
ton took him from the street and made
him a reporter. Made him write his
stories, too. Jack was his hobby. To
make him a thorough newspaper man
was his ambition. and he succeeded.
That was a little more than five years
prior to the time of the incident OF
which this is a narration. Then the boy
was the cub, now he was the star man
the men who when there was a diff
cult piece Of work to be done was called
up to the "old mans" desk, given few
words of instruction, and with smiling
| ''aH right, sir" went out
| No one in the office, not even those
who were inclined to be jealous of his
success, could remember the time when
he had failed. He always came back
with the story or positive proof that
there was nothing in It.
! While PERHAPS he lacked the polished
finish in his style which marked the
work of Sheepscot, who wrote long dis
sertationS on music and the drama,
and said pretty, polite things about the
society dances, the woman'S clubs and
the conferences of the religious bodies.
or the fantastic quirks Of Skeaton, who
concocted all kinds of odd and inter-
esting bear stories and enjoyable hon.
lilies about birds and plants and crops:
| but it had a twist which was all its
own, way of telling the story which
left no doubt in the mind of the reader
as to the impression which the writer
wished to convey.
In short, Jack did things which the
others wanted to. but couldn't.
| The politics of the city were as an
open book to him, likewise the secrets
of the police.
He was an orphan. and there was
but one person and one object for
which he had any love: they were
Preston, whom he regarded like
father, and the Courier, which was the
one great journal of the world, in his
eye. To say aught derogatory to either
in his presence was to have fight on
in an instant. AS he had the reputa-
ton of being the cleverest boxer in the
! city and the champion rough-and-
tumble fighter Of the newsboy alley.
| 1t can be assumed that those persons
who desired to criticize either took good
care to do it elsewhere than in his
2raaence.
But the boy, for that was all he was,
had habit which caused all to worry
for him and was the reason for many
days loss of sleep on the part of Pres
ton. for it caused him more trouble
devoted to the Courier was put to the
task of devising some way of saving
the lad.
It was not the liquor habit, for that
could have been left off by a man of
Jacks will 2ower. It was worse. 1t
was cigarettes.
The drug in them had a hold upon
the 10y which he could not shake off
He could do nothing without them. Be
fore breakfast he must have one and
the last thing before bed a cigarette
must be smoked. It was not a matter
OF dozen day with him, but of
scores, for he used from sixty to a
da-.
From red-faced, healthy young man
ne became shrunken in face and form,
Wnlle his cheeks took on an unhealthy
paIlor and he had the cough which so
many who had gone before him had
had.
Remonstrance was of no avail. He
would listen to you respectfully enough,
ana then turn away, with a depreca tory
shrug of his shoulders, and say:
"Oh, pshaw; you're mistaken; they're
not hurting me. Why, man alive, I can
quit them any time 1 WISH
But he knew better than this. He
knew they were his masters and that
he never could leave them alone. That
! he tried, every man in the city room
knew, as they did that each trial failed
4 him. Preston talked to him long and
| frequently, but with the same results,
only that Jack would promise him to
stop using them, but would always fail
! to keep the promise. Not that he didn't
try, for he did, and he felt worse over
the failure than did any one else for it
was the only thing in which he ever
broke a promise.
But the end came at last. Came in q
way which was unexpected and start
ling A suicide, mysterious and sensa-
tional, had occurred in a fashionable
boarding house, and Jack was sent TO
| cover it, as usual. In due time ne
came back and sat down to his desk
and began writing. For Is minutes the
rattle of his typewriter was incessant,
while his head was wreathed in a cloud
of tobacco smoke. Then the click Of
the machine ceased. Jack called sharp
| ly to an Office boy, gave him some mon
ey. and said:
go get me some cigarettes, and be
! lively; 1 can't write a line without
something to smoke; my nerves are all
unstrung.'
| When the cigarettes had been given
him he lighted one and began afresh
on the story. How he worked The
way he turned out sheets of copy was
astonishing. Outside the copy readers
and Preston no one minded him, ali
being too intent on their work
In the rush hours of the night on a
morning paper no one has time to
watch and see how fast or slow pro-
gress some one else is making. Each