The Farmington times. (Farmington, St. Francois County, Mo.) 1905-1926, 1918-11-08

And there l acquired taste for
conviviality that stuck to me until
my name was getting gray. In those
halcyon days most newspaper men
were partial to the flowing bowl. The
young man who refused to look upon
the wine was considered effeminate.
In fact there was a superstitious be-
lief, in newspaper Offices, that one
couldn't be a good reporter unless he
was good mixer, and he couldn't
be a good mixer unless he was at all
times ready to consume his share of
booze. There was some foundation
for this theory, in those grand old
days when city councilmen were re-
cruited from the saloon keepers, and
caucuses and conventions were held
in the back rooms of grog parlors.
While this theory survived, / never
had trouble getting employment. !
drifted around the country from one
town to another. Being of a happy
go-lucky disposition, gave no thought
to the future. Sufficient to the day
was the evil, or good, thereof. Be-
cause | seemed able to get job when
ever wanted one, it never occurred to
me that conditions might change
and wouldn't have cared if they had
| was known in all Western newspa-
per offices, and one reason why l
could always get employment was
that l was "a hog for work" so long
as l lasted. In all my experience
have known but one man who could
turn out as much copy, day after day,
the year round. This was Ed. Howe,
of the Atchison "Globe". for whom
worked for year and half.
Some newspaper proprietors consid-
cred it blessing when | turned up;
for | would turn in and write the
whole editorial page, and edit the tel
egraph, and read proofs, and do as
much as three ordinary people would
do. This is not boast. There are
many editors who will endorse the
statement. | always tackled a new
job with virtuous determination to
cut out the fool habits for good |
was going to turn over new leaf
and be shining example to the
young. Time and again | fooled my
employers as well as myself. For two
or three weeks / would live like an
anchorite and break all hard-work rec
ords; the managing editor would
raise my wages every week, and take
me into his private Office to tell me
that if | kept up my present lick he
would give me the half of his kingdom,
and the hand Of his daughter in mar
riage, or words to that effect. | had
dozen such opportunities to estab-
lish myself firmly in fine situations.
But my virtuouS resolves never last
ed longer than two or three weeks
| would equip myself with a good
suit of clothes, and purple and fine
linen, and become obtrusively re-
spectacle, and then of sudden there
would come a great longing for the
gilded saloon and the company of the
people who drank not wisely but too
well; and then, poof! away would fly
all the excellent resolutions, and I'd
wake up some fine morning in livery
stable to find that my raiment was in
the pawnshop, and l couldn't remem-
Der whether it was Wednesday or the
Chinese New Year.
In November of one immemorial
year | was seated in beautifully fur
nished editorial room, the star man of
great and growing newspaper. The
managing editor thought so much of
my work, and was so convinced that
| had reformed for good, that he had
fitted up this sumptuous office for my
exclusive use. | was honored and pet
ted in every possible way. In the fol-
lowing February l was shoveling
snow off the sidewalks in an Iowa
town, to get the price of feed and
bunk.
| will give a concrete instance of
this sort of experience: I blew into
Denver, one cold day, shivering in a
suit that would have been considered |
too gauzy in Florida. was penniless
and hungry, and, as had been sleep
ing box cars for two nights, l looked |
like something left over from rum
mage sale. went into the Office of |
the Denver News" and found John
who was the editor and pro-
prietor. He knew my reputation, and |
me SO amusing he laughed |
for an hour before handing over five
dollars. Then he told me / could con-
tribute at space rates if wished.
l was simply overlooking with
good resolutions. At last | had seen |
the error of my ways, and was going
to abandon the husks and the swine.
"Never again., said l, in ringing
tones. got me humble hall room
in a cheap boarding house, and a pad |
Of paper and pencil and wrote a COL
umn or two of highly moral parr-
graphs. The "News" printed them
next morning, and another batch next
day, and in week they formed a
feature that Denver was talking about.
had letters of approval from clergy
men and merchant princes, and invi-
tations to everything.
One day Mr.. Atkins called me into
his private Office for heart-to-heart
talk. First, he gave me an order for
a suit of clothes, no price limit set,
and explained that this was present.
Then he told me that my stuff prom
sed to be of value to the paper, and
if l would behave myself and aban-
Ion that conduct which had made my
name a Kissing in newspaper offices
from Dan to Beersheba, my future was
assured. The "News" didn't quarrel
over wages when it found something
i wanted. l assured Mr.. Atkins with