“Yes,” replied Myles, “and when I saw that I didn’t have any thing in the paper this morning I was afraid it would be my last. Isn’t every reporter expected to have something in every number?”
“No, indeed,” laughed Rolfe. “If they did their number would have to be reduced at least one half, or else the paper increased to double its present size. Why, a large part of the matter written goes into the waste-basket, which in old times, when the Phonograph was only a four-page paper, we used to call the ‘fifth page.’ There are several editors employed in this office merely to throw away all the copy they possibly can and to condense the rest to its most compact form. Don’t you worry about not getting any thing in. It may be a week or more before a word of what you write gets printed. I believe it was a month before my first article got into type, and I was twice warned by Mr. Haxall to brace up.”
“How is it with your articles now?” asked Myles, curiously.
“Oh, I’m doing fairly well, and get something into the paper every now and then,” answered the other, carelessly. “I happened to make a lucky hit with a story one day, and since then I’ve had nothing to complain of. You’ll do the same if you only peg away at it, and then you will be all right. You have already succeeded in getting yourself talked about, and that is half the battle with all literary workers, even including reporters.”
All this was very consoling to Myles. It gave him a happier feeling than he had known since he learned of the family troubles that caused him to leave college and take up this business of reporting. Of the unassuming, pleasant-faced fellow who thus made friendly advances toward him he soon discovered that he was the leading reporter on the paper, and that there was rarely a number of it issued that did not contain a column of interesting matter furnished by him.
At the conclusion of their little chat, Rolfe, who was evidently pleased with Myles, introduced him to several of the other fellows, and the young reporter felt that at last he was really started on his career.
On this day he had an experience of the curious contrasts that make up a reporter’s life. He was first sent to find out if it were true that two sets of triplets had been born the night before in a great east-side tenement-house. Then he attended a brilliant wedding in Grace Church, and soon afterward a large funeral. All of these assignments were given him by Mr. Haxall with many injunctions as to their importance, and charges to obtain and write out every possible item of interesting information concerning them. Myles worked faithfully and prepared what he considered a remarkably full and good report of each case. To the wedding and funeral he gave particular attention, procuring a full list of the guests at one, the mourners at the other, and an elaborate description of the floral displays at both.
For all this, in the next day’s paper the interesting triplets were not mentioned, the wedding was disposed of in a paragraph, and the third report was condensed to “The funeral of Mr. Blank took place yesterday from the Church of the Apostles.”
So Myles remarked to Van Cleef: “I can’t see the use of putting a fellow to all the trouble of getting these stories and then not printing them. I could have written the three lines they did furnish without leaving the office.”
Van Cleef answered: “That is the editor’s lookout, and not yours. So long as they pay you for your trouble you have no right to complain.”