The Young Man and Journalism

by Chester Sanders Lord

In most of the college publications one may find under the heading of Alumni Notes, an item such as this:

“’18, John F. Jenkins has accepted a position on the editorial staff of the New York Star.”

This means that Jenkins has got a job as a reporter. But Jenkins did not have the easy time getting it that the paragraph in the college paper would lead one to suppose. Nor did he “accept” the post: the Star accepted him. Before Jenkins landed on the Star he visited five newspaper offices, reached the assistant city editor of two, the city editor of one. He did not get beyond the office boy guarding the portals of the others.

Jenkins left four of the offices with a definite feeling that New York was none too cordial to a budding newspaper man. But he failed to consider, because he did not know, that two or three young men visit the city room of a metropolitan newspaper every day on an errand similar to his. And he failed to realize, because he did not know, that in normal times a conservative newspaper hires about one new reporter a month.

The city editor of the Star happened to need a man when Jenkins called. Jenkins was a college man; that was in his favor. His manner of approach was pleasing to the man who was thinking of hiring him. If the impression was good to the city editor it would also be good to the men to whom Jenkins might be sent as a reporter. His conversation was direct and to the point. He didn’t make extravagant talk about his ability; he was frank in saying that he didn’t know anything about the newspaper business, but wanted to learn and was willing to work hard to make good. He would be glad to take twenty dollars a week at the start and asked only for a trial.

“All right, report to-morrow at one o’clock,” said the city editor and Jenkins left the office in a daze with a job. He had been trying for three days to get one and the interview that landed it had consumed not more than three minutes.

Jenkins got the job because he was clean, intelligent and looked like good material. He had not made the mistake of thinking that impertinent aggressiveness would impress the man who was to hire him. He had not made the mistake of failing to remove his hat when he sat down beside the city desk to make his appeal. Several men had made that mistake with the city editor of the Star. A man who did not know enough to remove his hat even in an office, did not have manners enough to approach many of the men to whom the Star would send him. Jenkins did not waste the time of the city editor on nonessentials, and it was to be presumed that he would be as businesslike with those with whom he came in contact later as a reporter. Jenkins also had personality. He acted as though he meant business and realized that newspaper work was pleasant but not play. He had no letters of recommendation and the city editor didn’t ask for any. Letters are easy to get and as a rule do not count for much. Personality, such as Jenkins’s, counts a lot.

The reporter must be prepared to meet the active men of the world: the men who are doing the constructive work of the world. He must have presence and address to attract their attention. Usually he is a stranger to them. His presence is unwelcome to them. Experience has attested that the college boy is better fitted for this task than any other kind of beginner. He is familiar with the ways of society and has some notion of the public questions of the day and the vital problems of life. The green young man of uncouth appearance, of clumsy presence, of faltering, stammering speech makes a mighty poor reporter.

Many newspaper office boys become good reporters. In constant contact with the editorial force they absorb knowledge of the business. Noneducated or partly educated youths may and do become excellent reporters of routine news, but they rarely get beyond the imitative stage. In the race for higher journalistic honors the college boys easily outstrip them.

A welcome addition to the staff is the man who comes from a country newspaper. Many of the ablest of American journalists began their careers in rural offices. The country boy usually knows something of the technical side of the business. Likely enough he has learned to set type or run a typesetting machine, has lent a hand in the mailing room or the delivery department, has mastered many details that, though not essential, have given a comprehensive notion of how newspapers are made.