The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1903-02-11

The editor had just finished iookinl
over the mornings man. and had sortet
the requests for immediate settlement Of
past due accounts from the Typewriter
! notes threatening suit at once (for he al
ways tried to give attention to the cred.
itor who had reached the stage of threat
ening suit. when the telephone bell rang
He drew the instrument toward him Will
a weary sigh. confident that the bani
was at the other end, for he realized tina
| he had been overdawn for two days
when gruff voice answered his s'hello,'
with demand: Who's that tafking?"
The editor politely gave his name
am not at liberty now to reveal
Are you the editor Of the Chickades
! Index?'' came through the phone
He answered that he was
We'll. who's the owner?" came the next
query.
The editor informed his interrogatol
that he was the whole thing from lye-pot
to paste-brush.
ibid you write that article about Hank
Halter, who is runnin for sheriff -
There was husky note in the voice. OF
else the lines were crossed somewhere.
As the seeker for information was pre-
sumably several miles away the editor
answered boldly, Il am responsible for 1t,
sir
.Oh. you are. are your came back over
the wire. We'll. I'm Hank Halter, and
am going to sue you for ten thousand
dollars
The editor drew the phone still closer
to him, and in his most confidential tone,
said: Il wouldn't do that II l were you.
Hank. Besides. I'm too busy to go to
court this morning. If you'll just drive
over I'll give you a check
Having disposed of that trining mat
ter, the editor brushed the flies from the
paste-pot and opened letter from a
well-known st. Louis advertising agency,
in which he was offered a can of cheap
news ink in return for lib inches of
space to be used for a series of patent
medicine locals set in solid nonpareil.
changed every week. and to run top of
column, next to reading matter. The
ink was to be shipped at the end of the
three years. providing the readers never
missed an insertion or were never out
of position during that period.
The editor swore. and chucked the offer
in the waste basket
At this point the pastor of a local
church came in, and asked the editor to
publish six columns of matter against
the saloons of the town. and showing the
terri ole temptations which beset the
young. There was nothing said about
who should pay for the composition. so
the editor told the preacher to leave the
copy and he'd see about it. When the
preacher had gone the editor stepped into
the saloon next door, shook the box with
tok neat drink, and when he returned to
his desk the minister's copy followed the
patent medicine proposition into the
waste-ba Sket.
A shadow falls across the pad upon
which the editor is figuring up the week
ly payroll. 1t is only Thursday. but that
payroll is already beginning to worry
him. and looking up he beholds matron
of mature, years and angular vissage. She
has discovered that there is an 20" up
side down in a piece of obituary poetry
she sent in last week. and she has come
to ask the editor.to reprint the ode to the
dear departed that sch may have cor
rect copy for her scrapbook. The ode
has been thrown in. but the editor agrees
to do it anyhow, and as she leaves the
office the EDITORS eyes rest upon rail-
road pass he got twenty-nine days ago,
and which he has been keeping until he
shall find spare time TIC ride. 1t expires
tomorrow. ard he drops it into the waste
basket along with other blighted hopes.
Again shadow. falls across the thresh-
old, and a lean, lank lawyer strides into
the presence of the editor. Drawing
paper from his pocket. he presents bill
of s12o.25 against the editor from Sand &
Sugar, the grocers. for immediate settle
ment
But said the editor. Sand & Sugar
owe me more than that for advertising.
We have not settled for. 10, these many
moons,
"Ah." replied the lawyer. decorating the
office floor with an election of tobacco
juice Then you have not heard? Sand
& Sugar are now in the hands of an as
signee. What you owe them must be set
tied at three cents on the dollar or less"
rs that fair?" murmurs the editor.
1T is the law" replies the lawyer.
Then the editor remembered that the
Cincinnati Fail Festival association had
offered a prize of $50 for the best essay
on the "Humorouse Side of an Editors
Life and he took heart and fresh,
chew of tobacco.
He lolxed around the dingy office in
search of something humorous to write
about, and just as he began to recall
funny incident that happened away back
when he wasn't the owner of the paper.
he heard the devil drop galley of type
he was carrying from the coInpositor's
case to the proof press, and the humor
There is nothing humorous about an
editors life' he said with a sigh. unless
it be his perpetual impecuniosity and
his waste-ba sket" So he wrote of those
things and dreamed he won the prize
s. S. Tibbals Franklin, o.. Chronicle, in
the Western Publisher.