The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1914-06-18
HOW BILLY STOLE
HIS BIG SCOOP"


crushed by parental refusal when
| had asked her fathers consent and
received in turn, not only cold re-
fusal, but was told in as few words
as possible that my services upon
his newspaper were no longer re-
quired.
My heart was not only crushed,
but my pride was hurt as we'll; and
| vowed then, that at the first oppor-
tunity that prevailed would seek
equivalent-'an eye for an eye was
my demands.
My opportunity came.
On the 18th Of April. 1906, as a
reporter on New York paper.
caught the first echo of the Frisco
disaster as it came creeping across
the continent IN spasmodic dots and
dashes on uncertain wires that tried
to tell the east that the city of San
Francisco was topping to ruin. In
but few short minutes of that
eventful morn, the news we so eager
~ sought. sputtered upon the wires
and then ceased. And the silence
of Geographic communication told
it's story of conflagration and ruin
better than words.
Linotype machines Of the big
dallies stopped their clatter. waiting
for copy; forms upon the stones lay
idle and the presses all but ceased
except for an occasional extra that
was but repetition of others.
He Taps The Wire
l knew that the scoop of the San
Francisco disaster would be carried
in the columns of the paper owned
by the man who had taken from my
life its sunshine by refusal of marri-
age to his daughter; and | also knew
that l would get that scoop before
it reached their copy tables or,
would deliberately silence the pri.
vate wires that flashed the message
of havoc and ruin.
That night. just as the shades of
night mantled the city, l found my
way to the rear of the newspaper
building that controlled the only
private wires; seeking the hole
wherein lag the cable as it entered
the building. Finding it | slowly
pried the cover open, dropped
my kit of tools and instruments
within, and as l climbed down and
lowered the cover overhead,
caught the echo of distant thunder
and felt the first drops of rain of a
coming storm upon my face. The
air within was foul, sitting and laden
with sewer-gas to such an extent,
that for moment, found it diff
cult to breathe. But every minute
was precious and l instantly started
to work.
Lighting a candle, l cautiously
picked out the little cable running
into the building and which l felt
contained the wires sought. And,
starting my blow-torch. l piled it's
flame upon the soldered lead sleeve
and watched and heard with salts
faction, the molten metal as it melt
ed and dropped with sizzling sput-
ters upon the damp earth. When /
had cleared the ends of the sleeve,
l slipped it back upon the cable and
there before me lay raped the liv-
ing things that were slowly spelling
off in code the story of destruction
so many miles away.
Carefully unwrapping the par
affine, soaked muslin that pro-
tected the wires from dampness. L
laid them bare; and adjusting my
test-case. I clasped the nippers into
one of the pair of precious wires and
sunk the knife blade of my current
deep into the insulation of the other
and caught the click of dots and
dashes through my receivers that
told me I had found my wires.
My work was but started. The
storm overhead had increased in
volume. and the peals of thunder
as they crashed and mingled with
the noise of night traffic over my
head informed me with a sense of
preadmonition that was akin to the
brink of death. Through the aque-
ducts that carried other cables of
telephone wires, / caught the ava
lanche of cutters deluge, as it swept
down the nearby sewers. and seemed
to shout defiance should / attempt
to escape the dangers of the storms
elements that surrounded me. The
heat was 60 intense that | stripped off
my outer garments, and the perspi-
ration flowing from my brow, splash
ed like drops of blood before my
tortured eyes.
n