“What’s the difference whether a newspaper is radical or conservative, Ban, if it tells the truth? That’s the whole test and touchstone; to give news honestly. The rest will take care of itself. Compared to us The Sphere crowd are conservative. But they’re honest. And they’re not afraid.”
“Yes. They’re honest, and not afraid—because they don’t have to be,” said Banneker, in a tone so somber that his friend said quickly:
“I didn’t mean that for you, son.”
“Well, if I’ve gone wrong, I’ve got my punishment before me,” pursued the other with increased gloom. “Having to work for Marrineal and further his plans, after knowing him as I know him now—that’s a refined species of retribution, Pop.”
“I know; I know. You’ve got to stick and wait your chance, and hold your following until you can get your own newspaper. Then,” said Russell Edmonds with the glory of an inspired vision shining in his weary eyes, “you can tell ’em all to go to hell. Oh, for a paper of our own kind that’s really independent; that don’t care a hoot for anything except to get the news and get it straight, and interpret it straight; that don’t have to be afraid of anything but not being honest!”
“Pop,” said Banneker, spiritlessly, “what’s the use? How do we know we aren’t chasing a rainbow? How do we know people want an honest paper or would know one if they saw it?”
“My God, son! Don’t talk like that,” implored the veteran. “That’s the one heresy for which men in our game are eternally damned—and deserve it.”
“All right. I know it. I don’t mean it, Pop. I’m not adopting Marrineal’s creed. Not just yet.”
“By the way, Marrineal was asking for you this morning.”
“Was he? I’ll look him up. Perhaps he’s going to fire me. I wish he would.”