Mr. Henry had come to the Spectator office, bringing copy for a change of his advertisement, and tarried a few minutes to converse with me about our Colorado outing. I showed him the proof of my write-up. He said he would not take time to read it just then, but he marveled at the four fine wood cuts illustrating the Pike’s Peak trip—and marveled some more when I told him they were engraved right there in the office by my brother Sam.
Might add that editor Clough said in his paper, the Sabetha Republican, “The Wetmore Spectator has a genius in the office in the person of the editor’s brother, a wood engraver. Last week it published engravings of scenery about Pike’s Peak equal to any we have ever seen. They are true to nature and finely executed.” He said, further, “We also notice that nearly all the papers gave the Spectator credit for having the best write-up of the excursion.” Think maybe those engravings had influenced some of the decisions.
Might say that Sam became so good at it, that John Stowell, former owner of the Spectator, sought to get him a job with the Government in Washington—and he came very near doing it too. Stowell, an impulsive little Englishman, had the happy thought that as he was making his appeal for the boy direct to the Government, that a print of a ten-dollar bill would be an impressive sample. It was a lifesize masterpiece. Do I need tell you that Sammy’s Uncle Sam informed them that if they didn’t destroy that cut and all prints immediately, somebody would surely get a lasting job? Uncle Sam did, however, compliment Sammy on his work—said it was good, in fact, too good.
Mr Henry also had a few words with Alex Hamel, who, besides being the type-setter, was editor-in-chief during my absence. Henry said, “Ecky, I’ll bet you helped John write that one.” Alex—he was called Ecky by nearly everyone — said truthfully, “No—Myrtle did.” But Ecky had slipped in a few sentences about the authoress of “Ramona,” which bit of history had not appeared to the eye when I viewed the large pile of pebbles marking her grave.
Being the smarter man, Ecky got the credit for writing my best feature stories during our newspaper regime back in the 90’s. But Ecky died in 1899, and I’ve not been able to find a dependable ghost-writer to take his place. However, Ecky did write some really fine feature stories for the Spectator, using the pseudonym, “Xela Lemah” Alex Hamel spelled backwards. And Ecky was a poet, too. The following eight lines appeared, unsigned, in my paper, Sept. 1, 1893. It is one of many of Hamel’s poems that were widely copied by other papers and credited to the Spectator. To fully appreciate it now, the reader would have to know the then generally accepted panacea for bellyache. At that time an epidemic of “summer complaint” was going the rounds. Now, properly signed, this is the only injection of writings by another than myself to appear in this volume.
A Summer Idyl.
Jem. Aker Ginger is my name;
I have a way that’s takin’ —
My seat in summer’s in the lap
Of dear Miss Belle A. Aiken.