=2. The Usual Football Story.=--The usual report of a game is a story of a half column or less which is longer than the brief summary story and not so detailed as the long football story. This is the story that a correspondent would usually send to his paper. It is like them both in the facts that it includes and differs only in length and in manner of treatment. This story is usually divided into two parts: the introduction and the running account. The introduction, or lead, is very much like the brief summary story; in fact, the entire brief summary story might be used as the introduction of a story of this type.

The second part, the running account, corresponds to the running account of the game as it will be taken up with the long football story.

The introduction of the usual athletic story always contains certain facts. The first sentence, corresponding to the lead of a news story, always gives the names of the teams, the score, the time, the place, and the most striking feature of the game. After this the plays that resulted in scores are described and the star plays or players are enumerated. Usually a comparison of the two teams, as to weight, speed, and playing, follows, and the opinion of the captain or of some coach may be included. The rest of the introduction may be devoted to the picturesque side of the game: the crowd, the cheering, the celebration, etc. All of this must be told briefly in 200 words or less. The introduction is simply the brief summary story slightly expanded. Here is a fair example (the paragraph containing the scoring has been omitted):

Purdue triumphed over Indiana today, 12

to 5, recording the first victory for the

Boilermakers over the Crimson in five

years.

(Omitted paragraph on scoring belongs

here.)

Purdue played a great game at all

times Oliphant, right half-back on the

Boilermaker eleven, played remarkably

well and was the hardest man for the

locals to handle. Baugh, Miller, Winston

and Capt. Tavey also starred for Coach

Hoit's men.

The Lafayette rooters, 1,500 strong,

rushed on the field at the close of the

struggle and carried their players off

the field.

This is ordinarily followed by a brief running account of the game. It does not attempt to follow every play or to trace the course of the ball throughout the entire game, as a complete running account would do. It is usually made from the detailed running account by a process of elimination so that nothing but the "high spots" of the game is left.

Such an account may run from 200 to 300 words in length. At the end tables are usually printed to give the line-up and the tabulated results of the game, but these may sometimes be omitted. The following is an extract from a condensed running account:

Again the cadets fought their way to

the 10-yard line, runs by Rose and

Patterson helping materially, but again

Wayland held. The half ended after

Wayland had kicked out of danger.

In the second half St. John's outplayed

Wayland throughout. The cadets by a

succession of line plunges took the ball

within striking distance several times,

only to be held for downs or lose it on a

fumble.

Patterson electrified the crowd just

before the third quarter ended by twice

dodging through for 20-yard runs, placing

the ball on the 15-yard line, where the

cadets were held for downs.

=3. Long Football Story.=--The third cla.s.s of football story is the long detailed account. This is all that is left of the elaborate write-ups of the season's big games that were printed a few years ago and may be seen occasionally now. Ten or twenty years ago it was not unusual for an editor to run several pages, profusely ill.u.s.trated, on a big eastern football game. The story was written up from every possible aspect--athletic, social, picturesque, etc. Every play was described in detail and sometimes a graphic diagram of the play was inserted. Each phase was handled by a different reporter and the whole thing was given a prominence in the paper out of all proportion with its real importance. Such a treatment of athletic news has now been very largely discarded.

The outgrowth of this elaborate treatment is the common one- or two-column account in the pink or green sporting pages. All of the various aspects of the big game are still to be seen, condensed to the smallest amount of s.p.a.ce; and this brief account of the different aspects of the game is arranged as an introduction of a half column or less to head the running account of the game. This is the sort of story that is used to report the Yale-Harvard games and the more important middle western games. Its form has become very definitely settled and a correspondent can almost write his story of the big game by rule.

The first part of the story, called the introduction, consists of five or six general paragraphs. The material in this introduction is arranged, paragraph by paragraph, in the order of its importance.

Following this is a running account of the game which may occupy a column or more, depending upon the importance of the contest. At the end is a table showing the line-up and a summary of the results.

The introduction of the big football or baseball story usually follows a very definite order. There are certain things which it must always contain: the result of the game; how the scoring was done; a characterization of the playing; the stars; the condition of the weather and the field; the crowd; etc. The reader always wishes to know these things about the game even if he does not care to read the running account. It is equally evident that the scoring is of greater interest than the crowd, and that a comparison of the teams is more important than the cheering. And so a reporter may almost follow a stereotyped outline in writing his account. A possible outline would be something like this:

First Paragraph.--The names of the teams, the score, when and where the game was played, and perhaps some striking feature of the game. The weather may have been a significant factor, or the condition of the field; the crowd may have been exceptionally large or small, enthusiastic or uninterested; or the game may have decided a championship; some star may have been unusually prominent, or the scoring may have been done in an extraordinary way. Any of these factors, if of sufficient significance, would be played up in the first line just as the feature of an ordinary news story is played up.

This paragraph corresponds to the lead of a news story and is so written. For example:

Playing ankle-deep in mud before a

wildly enthusiastic gathering of football

rooters, the gridiron warriors of Siwash

College defeated the Tigers this

afternoon on Siwash athletic field by the

score of 5 to 0.

Second Paragraph.--Here the reporter usually tells how the scoring was done, what players made the scores, and how.

Third Paragraph.--The next thing of importance is a comparison of the two teams. The reader wants to know how they compared in weight, speed, and skill, and how each one rose to the fight. A general characterization of the playing or a criticism may not be out of place here.

Fourth Paragraph.--Now we are ready to tell about the individual players. Our readers want to know who the stars were and how they starred.

Fifth Paragraph.--This brings us down near the tag end of the introduction. Very often this paragraph is devoted to the opinions of the captains and coaches on the game. Their statements, if significant, may be boxed and run anywhere in the report.

Sixth Paragraph.--The picturesque and social side of the game comes in here. The size of the crowd, the enthusiasm, the celebration between halves or before or after the game, are usually told. This material may be of enough importance to occupy several paragraphs, but the reporter must always remember that he is writing a sporting account and not a picturesque description of a social event.

Seventh Paragraph.--This paragraph usually begins the running account of the game.

N-th Paragraph.--This s.p.a.ce at the end of the entire report is given to the line-ups and tabulated results of the game.

This arrangement may of course be varied, and any of the foregoing factors of the game may be of sufficient importance to be placed earlier in the story. Never, however, should the various factors be mixed together heterogeneously and written in a confused ma.s.s. Each element must be taken up separately and occupy a paragraph by itself.

The running account of the game, which follows the introduction, requires little rhetorical skill. Each play is described in its proper place and order and should be so clear that a reader could make a diagram of the game from it. It must also be accurate in names and distances as well as in plays.

Probably every individual sporting correspondent has a different way of distinguishing the players and the plays and of writing his running account. It is not an easy matter to watch a game from the press stand far up in the bleachers and be able to tell who has the ball in each play and how many yards were gained or lost. Familiarity with the teams and the individual players makes the task easier but few reporters are so favored by circ.u.mstances. They must get the names from the cheering or from other reporters about them unless they have some method of their own.

There is one method that may be followed with some success. Before the game the reporter equips himself with a table of the players showing them in their respective places as the two teams line up. It is usually impossible to tell who has the ball during any single play because the eye cannot follow the rapid pa.s.sing, but it is always possible to tell who has the ball when it is downed. At the end of each play as the players line up, the reporter keeps his eye on the man who had the ball when it was downed and watches to see the position he takes in the new line-up. Then a glance at the table will tell him the man's name.

The running account is written as simply and briefly as possible. It follows each play, telling what play was made, who had the ball, and what the result was. It keeps a record of all the time taken out, the changes in players, the injuries, etc. A typical running account reads something like this:

Siwash advanced the ball two yards by a

line plunge. Kelley carried the ball

around left end for five yards to the

Tigers' 50-yard line. The Tigers gained

the ball on a fumble after a fake punt

and lined up on their own 45-yard line.

Time called. Score at end of first half,

0 to 0.

At the end of the running account are tables, usually set in smaller type, giving the line-up of the two teams and the tabulated results of the game. Some papers arrange the tables as follows:

Siwash: Tigers:

Smith...........left end.......Jones

Brown.........left tackle......Green-Wood

McCarthy.......left guard......Connor

Hall (Capt.).....centre........Jacobs

Etc.

Other papers use this system which brings the opposing players together:

Siwash: Tigers:

l. e........Smith : Williams.......r. e.

l. t........Brown : Jackson........r. t.

l. g.....McCarthy : Cook (Capt.)...r. g.

c....(Capt.) Hall : Jacobs............c.

Etc.

The tabulated results at the end may be something like this:

Score by periods:

Tigers....................0 2 1 3--6

Siwash....................0 0 0 0--0

Touchdown--Brown. Goal from touchdown--

O'Brien. Umpire--Enslley, Purdue.

Referee--Holt, Lehigh. Field

judge--Hackensaa, Chicago. Head

linesman--Seymour, Delaware. Time of

periods--fifteen minutes.

Dispatches and stories on baseball games and track meets are usually accompanied by tables of results, similar to the above but arranged in a slightly different way. The form may be learned from any reputable sporting sheet.

XV

HUMAN INTEREST STORIES

In our study of newspaper writing up to this point we have been entirely concerned with forms, rules, and formulas; every kind of story which we have studied has had a definite form which we have been charged to follow. We have been commanded always to put the gist of the story in the first sentence and to answer the reader's customary questions in the same breath. Now we have come to a cla.s.s of newspaper stories in which we are given absolute freedom from conventional formulas. In fact, the human interest story is different from other newspaper stories largely because of its lack of forms and rules. It does not begin with the gist of its news--perhaps because it rarely has any real news--and it answers no customary questions in the first paragraph; its method is the natural order of narrative. The human interest story stands alone as the only literary attempt in the entire newspaper and, as such, a discussion of it can hardly tell more than what it is, without any great attempt to tell how to write it. For our purposes, the distinguishing marks of the human interest story are its lack of real news value and of conventional form, and its appeal to human emotions.

The human interest story has grown out of a number of causes. Up to a very recent time newspapers have been content with printing news in its barest possible form--facts and nothing but facts. Their appeal has been only to the brain. But gradually editors have come to realize that, if many monthly magazines can exist on a diet of fiction that appeals only to the emotions, a newspaper may well make use of some of the material for true stories of emotion that comes to its office. They have realized that newsiness is not the only essential, that a story does not always have to possess true news value to be worth printing--it may be interesting because it appeals to the reader's sympathy or simply because it entertains him. Hence they began to print stories that had little value as news but, however trivial their subject, were so well written that they presented the humor and pathos of everyday life in a very entertaining way. The sensational newspapers took advantage of the opportunity but they shocked their readers in that they tried to appeal to the emotions through the kind of facts that they printed, rather than through the presentation of the facts. They did not see that the effectiveness of the emotional appeal depends upon the way in which a human interest story is written, rather than upon the story itself.

Therefore they shocked their readers with extremely pathetic facts presented in the usual newspaper way, while the journals which stood for high literary excellence were able to handle trivial human interest material very effectively. Now all the newspapers of the land have learned the form and are printing effective human interest stories every day.

Another reason behind the growth of the human interest story is the curse of cynicism which newspaper work imprints upon so many of its followers. Every editor knows that no ordinary reporter can work a police court or hospital run day after day for any length of time without losing his sensibilities and becoming hardened to the sterner facts in human life. Misfortune and bitterness become so common to him that he no longer looks upon them as misfortune and misery, but just as news. Gradually his stories lose all sympathy and kindliness and he writes of suffering men as of so many wooden ten-pins. When he has reached this att.i.tude of cynicism, his usefulness to his paper is almost gone, for a reporter must always see and write the news from the reader's sympathetic point of view. To keep their reporters'

sensibilities awake editors have tried various expedients which have been more or less successful. One of these is the "up-lift run" for cub reporters--a round of philanthropic news sources to teach them the business of reporting before they become cynical. Another is the human interest story. If a reporter knows that his paper is always ready and glad to print human interest stories full of kindliness and human sympathy, he is ever on the watch for human interest subjects and consequently forces himself to see things in a sympathetic way. Thus he unconsciously wards off cynicism. The search for human interest material is a modification of the "sob squad" work of the sensational papers, on more delicate lines.

A human interest story is primarily an attempt to portray human feeling--to talk about men as men and not as names or things. It is an attempt to look upon life with sympathetic human eyes and to put living people into the reports of the day's news. If a man falls and breaks his neck, a bald recital of the facts deals with him only as an animal or an inanimate name. The fact is interesting as one item in the list of human misfortunes, but no more. And yet there are many people to whom this man's accident is more than an interesting incident--it is a very serious matter, perhaps a calamity. To his family he was everything in the world; more than a mere means of support, he was a living human being whom they loved. The bald report of his death does not consider them; it does not consider the man's own previous existence. But if we could get into the hearts of his wife and his mother and his children, we could feel something of the real significance of the accident. This is what the human interest story tries to do. It does not necessarily strive for any effect, pathetic or otherwise, but tries simply to treat the victim of the misfortune as a human being. The reporter endeavors to see what in the story made people cry and then tries to reproduce it. In the same way in another minor occurrence, he attempts to reproduce the side of an incident that made people laugh. Either incident may or may not have had news value in its baldest aspect, but the sympathetic treatment makes the resulting human interest story worth printing.

There are various kinds of human interest stories. The common ground in them all is usually their lack of any intrinsic news value. Many a successful human interest story has been printed although it contained no one of the elements of news values that were outlined earlier in this book. In fact, one of the uses of the human interest story is to utilize newspaper by-products that have no news value in themselves.

Hence the human interest story has no news feature to be played up and, since it does not contain any real news, it does not have to answer any customary questions. In form it is much like a short story of fiction, since it depends on style and the ordinary rules of narration. The absence of a lead, more than any other characteristic, distinguishes the human interest story from the news story, in form. We have worked hard to learn to play up the gist of the news in our news stories; now we come to a story which makes no attempt to play up its news--in fact, it may leave its most interesting content until the end and spring it as a surprise in the last line. To be sure, most human interest stories have and indicate a timeliness. The story may have no news value but it is always concerned with a recent event and usually tells at the outset when the event occurred. Almost without exception, the examples quoted in this chapter show their timeliness by telling in the first sentence when the event occurred. So much for the outward form of the human interest story.

=1. Pathetic Story.=--One of the many kinds of human interest stories is the pathetic story. Although it does not openly strive for pathos, it is pathetic in that it tells the story of a human misfortune, simply and clearly, with all the details that made the incident sad. It is the story that attempts to put the reader into the very reality of the pain and sorrow of every human life. Sometimes it makes him cry, sometimes it makes him shudder, and sometimes it disgusts him, but it always shows him misfortune as it really is. It looks down behind the outward actions and words into the hearts of its actors and shows us motives and feelings rather than facts. But just as soon as any attempt at pathos becomes evident, the story loses its effectiveness. Its only means are clear perception and absolute truthfulness. Here is an example of a pathetic human interest story taken from a daily paper:

Rissa Sachs' child mind yesterday

evolved a tragic answer to the question,

"What shall be done with the children of

divorced parents?"

She took her life.

Rissa was 14 years old. The divorce

decree that robbed her of a home was less

than a week old. It was granted to her

mother, Mrs. Mellisa Sachs, by Judge

Brentano last Sat.u.r.day.

When the divorce case was called for

trial Rissa found that she would be

compelled to testify. Reluctantly she

corroborated her mother's story that her

father, Benjamin Sachs, had struck Mrs.

Sachs. It was largely due to this

testimony that the decree was granted and

the custody of the child awarded to Mrs.

Sachs.

Then the troubles of the girl began in

real earnest. She loved her mother dearly.

But her father, who had been a companion

to her as well as a parent, was equally

dear to her.

Both parents pleaded with her. Mrs.

Sachs told Rissa she could not live

without her. The father told the girl, in

a conversation in a downtown hotel several

days ago, that he would disown her unless

she went to live with him.

Every hour increased the perplexities of

the situation for the child. She could not

decide to give up either of her parents

for fear of offending the other. So she

sacrificed her own life and gave up both.

Thursday evening, on returning from

school to the Sachs home at 4529 Racine

avenue, Rissa talked long and earnestly

with her mother. Then she retired to her

room, turned on the gas and, clothed, lay

down upon her bed to await death and

relief from troubles that have driven

older heads to despair.

At the inquest yesterday afternoon the

grief-stricken mother told the story of

her daughter's difficulties. She said that

Rissa had declared she could not live if

compelled to give up either of her

parents, but added that she never had

believed it.--_Chicago Record-Herald._

This is a pathetic human interest story in that it attempts to give the human significance of an incident which in itself would have little news value. Perhaps, in the matter of words, there is a slight straining for pathos. The form, it will be noted, is decidedly different from that of a news story on the same incident and, although the timeliness is given in the first line, there is no attempt to present the gist of the story in a formal lead. The source of the news is indicated in the last paragraph.

=2. Humorous Story.=--Another kind of human interest story is the humorous story. Its humor, like the pathos of a pathetic story, does not come from an attempt to be funny, but from the truthful presentation of a humorous incident, from the incongruity and ludicrousness of the incident itself. The writer tries to see what elements in a given incident made him laugh and then portrays them so clearly and truthfully that his readers cannot help laughing with him. The subject may be the most trivial thing in the world, not worth a line as a news story, and yet it may be told in such a way that it is worth a half-column write-up that will stand out as the gem of the whole edition. But after all the effectiveness depends upon the humor in the original subject and the truthfulness of the telling. The following humorous human interest story, which occupied a place on the front page, was built up out of an incident almost devoid of news value: