The Young Man and Journalism

by Chester Sanders Lord

The invention of the typewriter has helped vastly to speed up newspaper composition. The reporter may dictate his narrative. In the old days frequently he had to make a long journey to the newspaper office before beginning to work with pen or pencil. Nowadays, if need be, he dictates his report through the telephone to a typewriter in the office. Newspaper correspondents five hundred, and even one thousand, miles away do this kind of emergency telephoning.

Indeed, it may be said that modern invention has revolutionized the process of speeding up newspaper making. When I first went to New York the capacity of the improved newspaper press was eight pages. If a larger paper were wanted the extra pages were printed separately as a supplement many hours before the main eight sheet was put to press. To-day, thanks to the inventor of the multiple printing press, the news editor may decide fifteen minutes before going to press whether to make a twelve page newspaper or a twenty page newspaper or even a thirty-four page newspaper.

The big modern newspaper is made with a speed that is almost bewildering. For, in place of the old laborious journeying to the office, the writing of the news with pen or pencil, the typesetting of the same by hand and the old style stereotyping process requiring half an hour, the printing of sheets limited to eight pages on presses that produced only about fifteen thousand copies an hour—in place of these clumsy processes, news reports are dictated over the telephone, the matter is set by machinery in a fraction of the time formerly required, is stereotyped in six minutes and set going on half a dozen presses with a capacity each of more than thirty thousand copies an hour.

The reporting of big events that may be anticipated, like the inauguration of a president, a great festival in honor of a martial hero or in commemoration of peace, or a popular demonstration of any sort—anything that is scheduled to happen, is carefully arranged for in advance.

It is conceded that the biggest and most important single piece of news handled up to that time in a newspaper office was the story of the loss of the Titanic. The finest steamship that ever had been made struck an iceberg on her first voyage and sank with a loss of fifteen hundred persons, including scores of our well known residents—and that was all we knew of the disaster until the survivors were landed on a New York pier. The wireless had sent a partial list of survivors but not a word of detail about the disaster itself. Public interest was tremendously excited. It was known that the survivors were to land at a given hour in the evening and city editors had plenty of time to arrange for getting the great narrative but limited time for writing it—for newspapers must go to press on the minute in order that mail and express bundles of the edition may catch outgoing trains.

Thirty or forty reporters were sent by each New York newspaper to meet the rescue ship. Each man had a definite thing to do. One man, for instance, was to write a column of just what had been going on in the ship for the twenty-four hours before she sank. Another was to write of the warnings to the Titanic’s officers that ice fields were ahead. Another was to explain just how the ship struck, how she was damaged and how and when she filled and sank. A fourth was to describe in detail how the life boats were manned and launched and who went in them. A fifth was to tell of nothing except what the commander of the ship was doing up to the moment he was lost. Six or eight reporters were instructed to get as many narratives of the experiences of survivors as possible—and so on preparations were made to the completion of every detail that possibly could be anticipated—every man instructed exactly what to do and warned not to attempt anything else.

The preparations for printing this great narrative—and doing it in a hurry—occupied many hours of the time of managing and city editors. The organization of forces was necessary to prevent duplication and confusion, useless running about and tumbling over each other by reporters.

As an additional precaution to save time of reporters in going from the pier to the newspaper office, a dozen telephones were set up in a shed on the pier and a dozen of the reporters were instructed to dictate their reports into the transmitters and a dozen typewriters were ready to take them in the newspaper office.

The first sentence of this big story was written at 10:20 in the evening, and copy for the first edition was shut off two hours afterward. The first edition presses were started on time to the minute with four pages of the disaster. A second edition one hour later had seven pages of disaster matter—the narrative complete—about equivalent in amount to the reading matter of the usual edition of the Scribner monthly magazine.

In doing this task neither the writing force nor the mechanical department was extended or distressed or overworked. They could easily perform the same feat every night in the week under the same organization and loyal staff teamwork.