The Birmingham age-herald., 1908-12-25
Will Irwin in the January American Magazine

Magazine.
 ELAH NJ CLARKE. night city edi- NN tor of the New York Sun, known " in the newspaper world over as Boss Clarke, is the man who gathers the paper into a blazing sheaf and sends it forth is the pivot of the Sun shop. Not many years ago, new reporter, one of the men who came to the Sun with a reputation in his home town, sat in the office with his head in his hands. To him came an alumnus. T think that man Clarke hates me, and I know hate him." said the new reporter. You do," said the alumnus, "and you will hate him worse for month. After that, you'll love him the rest of your life" Clarke has been there almost ever since Dana took over the paper. The Sun believes, and with some grounds, that he has had greater influence upon American letters than any other man of his time.
 Clarke has been called the greatest liv- ing schoolmaster of newspaper men. It has always been his province to educate the cub reporters. The raw recruit, fresh from college and in that painful period of uncertainty following his plunge into the world, lives for six months in terror of the assignments utterly foolish to him, by which Boss Clarke tries him out to find whether the boy has steel and grit in him, and whether he tells the truth.
 When the cub returns and reports from one of these wild-goose chases Clarke questions him and comments upon the sit uation in about two ironical sentences, better and more affording than a whole college lecture on journalism. Eventual ly, following one of these wild-goose chases, the cub stumbles upon his first chance When he has turned in his copy Boss Clarke gives it touch here and a tightening there until it is real story, with the Individuality all left in and the youngness all cut out. His cherished half column, as he reads it in bed next morn ing, is to the cub reporter whole treatise on journalistic style. fia tni | Fl
 It happens now and then that youns- ster still in the Kindergarten, writes a story which sets all New York talking and brings the office about him with con gratulations.
 He never hears about it from Boss Clarke. One old reporter on the Sun re- members that Clarke praised his work just once-and that was an accident. The reporter was ripping out a late story at top speed and Clarke was taking away the copy, sheet by sheet. As he picked up the last sheet he read it where he stood, and the one word. "Fine' escaped him. Then as though he had made great slip, he hurried back to his work.
 ,"Jones,' said Clarke to a cub reporter one evening, there is no such word as tot in our dictionary, and some auto mobiles are not large red touring cars" The cub retired, blushing.
 "A blame fine story he wrote" nut tered Clarke to his assistant.
 By one sign. however, the Sun man comes to know if he has written a story which pleases the boss. The process is invariable. Having read it over and in serted those touches by which he improves everything which passes through his hands-and that without inapairing its flavor-Clarke takes his other pencil from over his ear, lays aside his pipe and puts on it a head which is literature. In the ironic, subtly humorous, condensed-ex- pression Sun heads, the Sun reader may recognize Boss Clarke. Some of them have grown into office traditions. There was the case of Horgan and Slattery con- tractors, accused of dallying with the city funds, and of turning over their property to their wives. We're Broke Says Horgan. Sure Says slattery. But Our Wives Are Doing Fine ran the head. A hall Rar a Whalar-RarnS and Jams It and Dies a Free Whale" He has the true burlesque touch--in his time he wrote for the New York World some of our best journalistic satire. I remember this shy at Swineburne in a re- cent head; 'Ill Tell the Papers" Says