The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-07-11

Ed had been assigned to cov- CT the event from aloft in the flying balloon. He left the city room in good time and at the cor- ner a glance at his watch told him that he had time for one nip before heading for his assign ment.
 Well, when Ed parted from the pub and made his way to the hangar, the dirigible already had heaved her ballast and was up in the sky. So, with Q shoul- der-shrug, Ed wended his way back to the bar where he typed out a neat, little story on the ma chine used to compose the daily bill-of-f flare, and waited for an apt moment to return to the office with 1t.
 As Ed got to the street, he noticed some excitement. Shouts of "Wuxtra" told him something was up, so he rushed back to the shop. When the managing editor saw him, he almost passed out.
 For in @ streamer on Page One was the headlined tiding that one Ed Hurley, a reporter covering the event, had perished with the crash of the dirigible. "Migosh," beloved the editor when he came to, you're supposed to be deadl"
 In a quick perusal of the lead story, Hurley read an impassioned obituary of himself as an intrepid and faithful servant of the Fourth Estate who had remained with a story to the last, @ glowing acc count of his feats as 8 live re- . porter, @ horrible word-picture of how he met a fiery death.
 Do you hear me-" the editor roared, you're dead, your dead. you 48lbl;?0 double crossing blank -blankl"
 MT. Hurley departed from his native town that night under a shroud. As far as the Daily What ever -it's-Name-Is was concerned, he was officially 8 charred corpse who had expired in the line of duty. He came to New York and laid low for six months and then came out to the light, looking like a well-fed ghost. He has not been back to his native town since then.
 Oh yes, the man who tells this story more glibly and vividly than is-Ed Hurley.
 WEAK
 STOMACH
 The anecdotal idlers also were crossing their hearts when they told about the crack reporter who had been on innumerable scenes of violence for the paper.
 One night he went forth to at- tend an important execution and sent back a gruesome, running acc count of 1t. His colleaguges and he stopped in for a bit of lunch when 1t was all over and pulled thefn- selves together.
 On the way downtown, one of his companions suggested that they drop in to Q movie and kill 8 few hours. He pointed to Q new Boris Karloff picture. Not that said the hard boiled execution portrayer, "those things always make me jittery"
 HIGH SPEED
 REPORTER
 An incident that is evoking many giggles around the city room of the towns most staid newspa- per was recalled at this shop-ta soiree.
 It seems that Q cynical and wholly disillusioned reporter on this dignified gazette had reached the end of his rope one day. He couldn't go on. So he went out and took alcoholic nourishment and consolation. He couldn't go on, he told his editor who tried to soothe him down.
 "Go back to your desk," the ed- itor urged him, land just sit quiet- ly and think 1t over." The thwart- ed Journalist took this simple counsel and returning to his desk, rested his head and elbows on 1t and drowsed off peacefully.
 Just then a party of tourists was being shown through the plant, learning how @ newspaper func- tions. "The reporters and rewrite men," the guide was saying, work under heavy pressure here. They have to keep on their toes every second" Just as he was making this staccato announce ment, the somnolent newspaper man keeled over in a peaceful slumber.