Although the main difference between writing interview stories and reporting speeches lies in the very act of getting the quotations and words of the speaker, there are certain aspects in which the writing of an interview story is different. The actual form of the two stories is almost identical and yet there is a tone in the interview story that is lacking in the report of a speech. This may be called the personal tone.
The very name of the speaker obviously plays a much larger part in the interview story than in the speech report. We may be more interested in what a man says in a public discourse than we are in the man, but when we interview a man we want his opinions not for themselves so much as because they are his opinions. An interview with the President on the tariff is not necessarily interesting in the new ideas that it brings out, for we have many other ways of knowing the President's opinions on the tariff question; but the interview is worth printing because every one is interested in reading anything that the President says, although he may have read the same thing many times before. A man is seldom interviewed unless he is of some prominence—that is why he is interviewed, and so in the resulting story his name plays a very important part. In fact, his name is usually the feature of the story; most interview stories begin directly with the name of the man whose statements are quoted.
Although a man may be interviewed simply because of his prominence and popularity, there is usually another reason for the interview. We are interested not only in hearing him say something but we wish to hear him say something on a certain topic. The interview thus has a timeliness, a reason for existence. Since this timeliness is the reason for printing a certain man's statements, the reporter's account must indicate that timeliness near the beginning. That is, the first sentence of an interview story must not only tell who was interviewed and the gist of what he said, but it must tell why he said it. The interview must be connected with the rest of the day's news. This comes out very definitely in the custom which many newspapers have of printing the opinions of many prominent men in connection with any important event. Perhaps it is because we wish to know their opinions on the subject or perhaps it is simply because we are glad to have a chance to hear them talk—at any rate many editors make any great event an excuse for a series of interviews. This is illustrated by the opinions of the various labor leaders that were printed with the story of the recent confession of the McNamara brothers. In such a case, the reporter must make the reason for the interview his starting point in the report and must indicate very plainly why the man was interviewed.
This idea of timeliness is very often carried to the extent of making the interview merely a denial or an assertion from the mouth of a well-known man. There may be an upheaval in Wall Street. Immediately the papers print an interview in which some prominent financier denies or asserts that he is at the bottom of the upheaval. Naturally the report of the interview begins with the very words of the denial or the assertion. Very often a man when interviewed refuses to say anything on the subject. The fact that he has nothing to say does not mean that the interview is not worth reporting. In fact, that refusal to speak may be the most effective thing that he could say. The reporter begins by telling that his man had nothing to say on the subject and ends by telling what he should have said or what his refusal to speak probably means,—if the paper is not too scrupulous in such matters. At any rate, the denial or assertion or refusal to speak becomes the starting point of the report and furnishes the excuse for the interview story. The expanded remarks that follow the lead are of course important but they are not so important as the primary expression of opinion that the reporter went for.
The personal element in interviewing may be carried to an extreme extent. The man who is interviewed may so far overshadow the importance of what he says that the report of the interview becomes almost a sketch of the man himself. That is, the report is filled with human interest. The quotations are interspersed with action and description. We are told how the man acted when he said each individual thing. His appearance, attitude, expression, and surroundings become as important as his words and are brought into the report as vividly as possible. Such an interview may become almost large enough to be used as a special feature story for the Sunday edition, but when the human interest is limited to a comparatively subordinate position the report still keeps its character as an interview news story. Such a thing may be illustrated from the daily press:
"I would rather have four battleships and need only two than to have two and need four."
Seated in the cool library of Colonel A. K. McClure's summer home at Wallingford, Rear Admiral Winfield Scott Schley, retired, thus expressed himself yesterday on the need of a larger and greater navy.
After all has been said about interviewing, the one thing that a reporter must remember is that an interview story is at best rather dry and everything that he can do to increase the interest will improve the interview. But all of this must be done with absolute fairness to the speaker and great truthfulness in the quotation of his ideas and opinions.
To come to the technical form of the interview story, we find that there are very nearly as many possible beginnings as in the case of the report of a speech. The interview story must begin with a lead that tells who was interviewed, when, and where, what he said (in a quotation or an indirect summary), and why he was interviewed. This is like the lead of a speech report in every particular except in the timeliness—the occasion for a speech is seldom mentioned in the lead, but a reporter usually tells at once why he interviewed the man whose words he quotes.