Originality in the treatment of the ordinary material of a news story is illustrated in the following beginning of a report of a conference on rural problems.
The little red schoolhouse and the big yellow ear of corn, how to develop each and how to correlate their interests, was the problem discussed yesterday afternoon by a committee[Pg 80] of the Wisconsin Bankers’ association and a number of distinguished educators and public officials. After the meeting at agricultural hall was over, it was apparent that the problem of the big ear of corn was in a fair way of solution, but the little red schoolhouse still remained an enigma.
The various speakers painted glowing pictures of how two ears of corn could be made to grow where one or none is growing now, and how farm life could be beautified and uplifted so that the boys and girls would quit rushing to the cities to add to the poverty of the nation and would remain on the soil to add to the country’s wealth. How to hook the country schoolhouse on this uplift movement did not seem so easy. The various educators present who knew something of the problem it presented, smiled at the altruistic simplicity of the bankers in taking up the problem and were loud in their praise of the monied men for so doing. The bankers could count on co-operation, they said.
The meeting was an informal conference between the committee on agricultural development and education of the Wisconsin Bankers’ association and other organized activities along allied lines, and was held in a classroom of agricultural hall. L. A. Baker, of New Richmond, chairman of the committee, presided.
How a bit of police court news may be worked up into a story the lead of which piques the reader’s curiosity, is shown in the following story from the New York Sun:
It took only two eggs in the hands of Annie Gallagher, a cook, buxom and blond, to spoil a sunset. That is why Annie was in the West Side police court yesterday. She had been summoned by Jacob Yourowski.
Yourowski, who is a sign painter, works at 355 Columbus avenue, next door to 64 West Seventy-second street, where Annie is employed. He was painting a sunset as a background for an advertising sign last Monday when the trouble began.
“I was on the ladder,” he told Magistrate Steinert, “when I was struck by some eggshells. I watched the open window where this woman is employed and pretty soon I saw her peeking out. At first I took it as a joke.”
“Pretty soon there were some more shells. I caught her looking out the window. So in a playful manner I made believe to throw back at her.”
“Judge, then the eggs came at me strong. They weren’t only shells; they had the goods. Pretty soon my sunset looked like an omelet. Then I got mad.”