One of Johnnie Wilt's original ideas

for entertaining his twin sister

Charlotte is to build a big bonfire on

the floor of their playroom.

Johnnie, who is 4 years old, carried his

plan into execution at the Wilt home, 2474

Lake View avenue, for the first time

yesterday afternoon, with results that

made a lasting impression upon his mind

and the finishings of the interior of the

house.

The thing was suggested to him by a

bonfire he saw a man build in the street.

Charlotte hadn't seen the other fire. For

some reason Charlotte's feminine mind

refused to understand just what the fire

was like.

Consequently nothing remained for

Johnnie to do but build a fire of his own.

He piled all of the newspapers and

playthings that could be found in the

middle of the room and then applied a

match.

When the flames leaped to the ceiling,

however, and a cloud of smoke filled the

room, Johnnie began to doubt the wisdom of

the move. While Charlotte ran to tell a

maid he retreated to that haven of

youthful fugitives--the s.p.a.ce beneath a

couch.

The frightened maid summoned the fire

engines and the fire was soon

extinguished. But Mrs. Wilt discovered

that Johnnie had disappeared. She

telephoned to Charles T. Wilt, president

of the trunk company that bears his name,

and half hysterically told of the fire and

the disappearance of Johnnie.

Just then there was a scrambling sound

from beneath the couch. Johnnie, looking

as serious as a 4-year-old face can look,

walked out.

Mrs. Wilt seized him and, to an

accompaniment of "I-won't-do-it-agains,"

crushed him to her bosom. Last reports

from the Wilt home were that Johnnie had

not yet been punished for his

deed.--_Chicago Record-Herald._

The student will notice how all the facts of the story and the answers to the reader's questions are worked in here and there, how the content of a news story lead is scattered throughout the entire account.

=3. Writing the Human Interest Story.=--It is one thing to be able to distinguish material for a human interest story and another to be able to write the story. The whole effectiveness of the story, as we have seen, depends upon the way it is written. Many a poorly written, ungrammatical news story is printed simply because it contains facts that are of interest, regardless of the way in which they are presented.

But never is a poorly written human interest story printed; simply because the facts in it have little interest themselves and the story's usefulness depends entirely upon the presentation of the facts. Hence, the human interest story, more than any other newspaper story, must be well written. And yet there are no rules to a.s.sist in the writing of such a story. In fact, its very nature depends upon originality and newness in form and treatment.

In the first place, we cannot fall back upon the conventional lead for a beginning, because a lead would be out of place. As we have said before, the human interest story does not begin with a lead for the reason that it has no striking news content to present in the lead. In many cases the whole story depends upon cleverly arranged suspense; if the content is given in a lead at the beginning suspense is of course impossible.

The human interest story has no more need of a lead than does a short story--in some ways a human interest story is very much like a short story--and a short story that gives its climax in the first paragraph would hardly be written or read. But, just like the short story, a human interest story must begin in an attractive way. In the study of short story writing almost half of the study is devoted to learning how to begin the story, on the theory that the reader is some sort of a fugitive animal that must be la.s.soed by an attractive and interesting beginning. The theory is of course a true one and it holds good in the case of human interest stories.

But no rules can be laid down to govern the beginning of human interest or short stories. Each story must begin in its own way--and each must begin in a different way. Some writers of short stories begin with dialogue, others with a clean-cut witticism, others with attractive explanation or description, others with a clever apology. The list is endless. This endless list is ready for the reporter who is trying to write human interest stories. But the choosing must be his own. He must select the beginning that seems best adapted to his story. As an inspiration to reporters who are trying to write human interest stories, a few beginnings clipped from daily papers are given here. Some are good and some are bad; the goodness or badness in each case depends upon individual taste. They can hardly be cla.s.sified in more than a general way for originality is opposed to all cla.s.sifications. They are merely suggestions.

A striking quotation or a bit of apt dialogue is commonly used to attract attention to a story. Here are some examples:

"Burglars," whispered Mrs. Vermilye to

herself and she took another furtive peek

out of the windows of her rooms on the

sixth floor of the, etc.

"Speaking of peanuts," observed the man

with the red whiskers, "they ain't the

only thing in the world what is small."

Etc.

"Ales, Wines, Liquors and Cigars!" You

see this sign in the windows of every

corner life-saving station. But what

would you say if you saw it blazing over

the entrance to the Colony Club, that

rendezvous for the little and big sisters

of the rich at Madison avenue and

Thirtieth street? Etc.

+------------------------------------------+

WANTED--Bright educated lady as secretary

to business man touring northwest states

and Alaska: give reference, ability; age,

description. Address E-640, care Bee.

(7)-680 19x.

+------------------------------------------+

The above innocent appearing want ad in

_The Bee_, although alluring in its

prospects to a young woman desiring a

summer vacation, is the princ.i.p.al factor

in the arrest of one M. W. Williams, etc.

A well-written first sentence in a human interest story often purports to tell the whole story, like a news story lead, and really tells only enough to make you want to read further. Here are a few examples:

His son's suspicions and a can opener

convinced Andrew Sherrer last Sat.u.r.day

that he had been fleeced out of $500 by

two clever manipulators of an ancient

"get-something-for-nothing" swindle. So

strong was the victim's confidence, etc.

There's a stubborn, unlaid ghost, a

gnome, a goblin, a swart fairy at the

least, who has settled down for the

winter in a perfectly respectable cellar

over in Brooklyn and whiles away the

dismal hours of the night by chopping

spectral cordwood with a phantom axe.

Instead of going to board with Mrs.

Pepper or another medium and being of

some use in the world and having a

pleasant, dim-lighted cabinet all its

own, this unhappy ghost--or ghostess--is

pestering Marciana Rose of 1496 Bergen

street, who owns the cellar and the house

over it--over both the ghost and the

cellar. Etc.

The gowk who calls up 3732 Rector today

will get a splinter in his finger if he

scratches his head. Nothing doing with

3732 Rector. From early morn till dewy

eve Mr. Fish, Mr. C. Horse, Mr. Ba.s.s, Mr.

Skate and other inmates of the aquarium

will be inaccessible by 'phone. Etc.

Under all the saffron banners and the

sprawling dragons clawing at red suns

over the roofs of Chinatown yesterday

there was a tension of unrest and of

speculation. It all had to do with the

luncheon to be given to his Imperial

Highness Prince Tsai Tao and the members

of his staff at the Tuxedo Restaurant, 2

Doyers street, at noon to-morrow. Etc.

Man and wife, sitting side by side as

pupils, was the interesting spectacle

which provided the feature of the

elementary night school opening last

night. Etc.

Two young Germans of Berlin, neither

quite 18 years of age, had a perfectly

uncorking time aboard the White Star

liner Majestic, in yesterday. They were

favorites with the smoke-room stewards.

They learned later that man is born unto

trouble as the corks fly upward. Etc.

It was a long black overcoat with a

velvet collar, big cuffed sleeves, and

broad of shoulder, and looked decidedly

warm and comfy. It stood in one of the

large display windows of ----, and

covered the deficiencies of a waxy dummy,

who stared in a surprised sort of manner

out into the street and appeared to be

looking at nothing. Etc.

The bellboys put him up to it and then

Marcus caused a lot of trouble. Marcus is

a parrot who has been spending the winter

in one of the large Broadway hotels. Etc.

Lame, old, but uncomplaining,

remembering only his joy when a visitor

came to him, and forgetting to be bitter

because of the wrongs done him, meeting

his rescuer with a wag of the tail meant

to be joyful, a St. Bernard dog set an

example, etc.

Some human interest stories begin, and effectively, too, with a direct personal appeal to the reader; thus:

If you've never seen anybody laugh with

his hands, you should have eased yourself

up against a railing at the Barnum and

Bailey circus in Madison Square Garden

yesterday afternoon and watched a band of

250 deaf mute youngsters, all bedecked in

their bestest, signalling all over the

Garden. Etc.

If you've ever sat in the enemy's camp

when the Blue eleven lunged its last yard

for a touchdown and had your hair ruffled

by the roar that swept across the

gridiron, you can guess how 1,500 Yale

men yelled at the Waldorf last night for

Bill Taft of '78. Etc.

A question is often used at the beginning of a human interest story:

A near-suicide or an accident. Which?

Keeper Bean is somewhat puzzled to say

which, but it is quite certain it will

not be tried again. At least, Keeper Bean

does not think it will.

But, it was a sad, sad Sunday for the

little white-faced monkey. For hours he

lay as dead, etc.

Many of these stories, animal or otherwise, begin with a name:

Long Tom, a Brahma rooster that had

been the "bad inmate" of Jacob Meister's

farm at West Meyersville, N. J., for

three years, paid the penalty of his

crimes Christmas morning when he was

beheaded after his owner had condemned

him to death. Bad in life, he was good in

a potpie that day, etc.

The beginning of a human interest story is always the most important part; just like a news story, it must attract attention with its first line. In the same way, a good beginning is something more than half done. But here the similarity between the two ends. The news story, after the lead is written, may slump in technique so that the end is almost devoid of interest; the human interest story, on the other hand, must keep up its standard of excellence to the very last sentence and the last line must have as much snap as the first. It is never in danger of losing its last paragraph and so it may be more rounded and complete; it must follow a definite plan to the very end and then stop. In this it is like the short story, although it seldom has a plot. There are no rules to help us in writing any part of the human interest story. Each attempt has a different purpose and must be done in a different way. Yet the reporter must know before he begins just exactly how he is going to work out the whole story. He must plan it as carefully as a short story. A few minutes of careful thought before he begins to write are better than much reworking and alteration after the thing is done. This applies to all newspaper writing.

Much of the effectiveness of the human interest story depends upon the reporter's style. When we try to write human interest stories we are no longer interested in facts, as much as in words. Our readers are not following us to be informed, but to be entertained. And we can please them only by our style and the fineness of our perception. Although we have been told to write news stories in the common every-day words of conversation, we are not so limited in the human interest story. The elegance of our style depends very largely upon the size of our vocabulary, and elegance is not out of place in this kind of story.

Although we have been told to use dialogue sparingly in news stories, our human interest story may be composed entirely of dialogue. In fact, we are hampered by no restrictions except the restrictions of English grammar and literary composition. Although we have sought simplicity of expression before, we may now strive for subtlety and for effect; we may write suggestively and even obscurely. We are dealing with the only part of the newspaper that makes any effort toward literary excellence and only our originality and cleverness can guide us.

It is hardly necessary to repeat that one cannot write human interest stories in a cynical tone. They are a reaction against cynicism. They require one to feel keenly, as a human being, and to write sympathetically, as a human being. The reporter must see behind the facts and get the personal side of the matter--and feel it. Then he must tell the story just as he sees and feels it. Absolute truthfulness in the telling is as necessary as keen perception in the seeing. Humor must be sought through the simple, truthful presentation of an incongruous or humorous idea or situation; pathos must be sought by the truthful presentation of a pathetic picture. Just as soon as the reporter tries to be funny or to be pathetic he fails, for the reader is not looking to the reporter for fun or pathos--but to the story that the reporter is telling. That is, the story must be written objectively; the writer must forget himself in his attempt to impress the story upon his reader's mind. If the story itself is fundamentally humorous or sad and the story is clearly and truthfully told with all the details that make it humorous or sad, it cannot help being effective.

The best way to learn how to write human interest stories is to study human interest stories. Most papers print them nowadays--they can easily be distinguished by their lack of news value, and of a lead--and the finest example is just as likely to crop out in a little weekly as in a metropolitan daily.

=4. The Animal Story.=--The examples printed earlier in this chapter are specimens of the truest type of human interest story because they deal with human beings. They derive their joy or sorrow from things that happen to men and women. But all the sketches that are cla.s.sed as human interest stories are not so carefully confined to the limits of the t.i.tle. From the original human interest story the type has grown until it includes many other things--almost any piece of copy that has no intrinsic news value. Every possible subject that may suit itself to a pathetic or humorous treatment and thus be interesting, although it has no news value, is roughly cla.s.sed as a human interest story.

One of these outgrowths of the true human interest sketch is the animal story. In the large cities, the "zoo" and the parks have become a fruitful source of "news." Anything interesting that may happen to the monkeys, or the elephant, the sparrows or the squirrels in the parks, horses or dogs in the street, is used as the excuse for a human interest story. Sometimes the purpose is pathos and sometimes it is humor, but, whatever it may be, if it is clever and interesting it gets its place in the paper, a place entirely out of proportion to its true news value.

The results sometimes verge very close upon nature faking, but after all they are only the result of the "up-lift" idea of looking at all life in a more sympathetic way. Several of the beginnings quoted earlier in this chapter belong to animal stories and the following is a complete one:

Smithy Kain was only a mongrel,

hors.e.m.e.n will say, but in his equine

heart there coursed the blood of

thoroughbreds.

Smithy Kain was killed yesterday

afternoon, shot through the head, while

thousands of Wisconsin fair patrons looked

on in shuddering sympathy.

It was a tragedy of the track.

Owners, trainers and drivers always are

quick to declare that no greater courage

is known than that possessed and

demonstrated by race horses in hard-fought

battles on the turf, and the truth of this

was never more strikingly brought home

than in the death of Smithy Kain

yesterday.

With a left hind foot snapped at the

fetlock, Smithy Kain raced around the

track, his valiant spirit and unfaltering

gameness keeping him up until he had

completed the course in unwavering pursuit

of the flying horses in front. Every jump

meant intense agony, but he would not

quit. Not until near the finish did his

strength give out, and not until then was

the pitiable truth discovered. Men used to

exhibitions of gameness in tests that try

the soul looked on in mute admiration as

Smithy Kain shivered and stumbled from the

pain that rapidly sapped his life. Women

cried openly.

Two shots from the pistol of a park

policeman ended the life and sufferings of

the horse that was only a mongrel, but

who, in his equine way, was a thoroughbred

of thoroughbreds.

Smithy Kain gave to his master the best

that his animal mind and soul possessed.

No better memorial can be written even of

man himself.

=5. The Special Feature Story.=--One step beyond the animal story is the special feature story. This kind of story is cla.s.sed with the human interest story because it has no news value and because its only purpose is to entertain or to inform in a general way; and yet it rarely contains any human interest. There is no s.p.a.ce in this book for a complete discussion of the special feature story--an entire volume might be devoted to the subject--but this form of story is often seen in the news columns of the daily papers and deserves a mention here. Ordinarily the special feature story is not written by reporters, although there is no reason why reporters should not use in this way many of the facts that come to them. The story usually comes from outside the newspaper office, from a contributor, from a syndicate, or from some other daily, weekly, or monthly publication; however a word or two here may suggest to the reporter the possibility of adding to his usefulness by writing such stories for his paper.

The special feature story may be almost anything. The name is used to designate timely magazine articles, timely write-ups for the Sunday edition, and timely squibs for the columns of the daily papers. The last use is the one that interests us and it interests us because it is very closely related to the human interest story. The editors usually call it a feature story because it is worth printing in spite of the fact that it has no news value. In this and in its timeliness it is like the human interest story. But it is not written for humor or pathos; its purpose is to entertain the reader. Its method is largely expository and its style may be anything; it may explain or it may simply comment in a witty way. The utilizing of otherwise useless by-products of the news is its purpose--in this it is very much like the animal story.

Subjects for feature stories may come from anywhere and may be almost anything. A very common kind of feature story is the weather story that many newspapers print every day. The weather is taken as the excuse for two or three stickfuls of print which explain and comment upon weather conditions, past, present and future. Growing out of this, there is the season story which deals with any subject that the season may suggest: the closing of Coney Island, the spring styles in men's hats, the first fur overcoat, Commencement presents, Easter eggs--anything in season.

Further removed from the human interest story is the timely write-up which has no other purpose than to explain, in a more or less serious or sensible way, any interesting subject that comes to hand. The story purports not only to entertain but to inform as well. It has no news value and yet it is usually timely. Here are a few subjects selected at random from the daily papers: "He'll pay no tax on cake," explaining in a humorous way the customs methods that held up the importation of an Italian Christmas cake; "Clearing House for Brains," a description of the new employment bureau of the Princeton Club of New York; "Ideal man picked by the Barnard girl," a humorous resume of some Barnard College cla.s.s statistics; "Winning a Varsity Letter," telling what a varsity letter stands for, how it is won, and what the customs of the various colleges in regard to letters are; "Jerry Moore raises a record corn crop," telling how a fifteen-year-old boy won prizes with a little patch of corn.

These are just a few suggestions to open up to the reporter the vast field for special feature articles. To be sure, many of them are submitted by outsiders, but there is no reason why a reporter should not write these stories as well as human interest stories for his paper, since he is in the best position to get the material. Whenever a special feature story becomes too large for the daily edition there is always a possibility of selling it to the Sunday section or to a monthly magazine. The writing of special feature stories is directly in line with the reporter's work, because the ordinary method of gathering facts for a feature article and arranging them in an interesting, newsy way follows closely the method by which a reporter covers and writes a news story. Hence almost without exception the most successful magazine feature writers are, or have been, newspaper reporters.

XVI

DRAMATIC REPORTING

Dramatic reporting is one of the most misused of the newspaper reporter's activities. To many reporters, as well as to their editors, it is just an easy way of getting free admission to the theater in return for a half column of copy. Hence it is treated in an unjustly trivial way; the reports of theatrical productions are printed most often as s.p.a.ce fillers or as a small advertis.e.m.e.nt in return for free tickets. But after all the work is an important one and should be done only by skillful and expert hands. Dramatic reporting is included in this book, not because it is thought possible to give the subject an adequate treatment, but because theatrical reporting is a branch of the newspaper trade that may fall to the hands of the youngest reporter. In mere justice to the stage the reporter who writes up a play should know something about the real significance of what he is doing. It is much easier to tell the beginner what not to do than to tell him exactly what to do. The faults in dramatic reporting are far more evident than the virtues; and yet there are some positive things that may be said on the subject.

The first important question in the whole matter is "Who does dramatic reporting?" One would like to answer, "Skilled critics of broad knowledge and experience." But unfortunately almost anybody does it--any one about the office who is willing to give up his evening to go to the theater. To be sure, many metropolitan papers employ skilled critics to write their dramatic copy and run the theatrical news over the critic's name. Some editors of smaller papers have the decency to do the work themselves. But in most cases the work is given to an ordinary reporter--and not infrequently to the greenest reporter on the staff.

Worse than that, the work is seldom given to the same reporter continuously, but is pa.s.sed around among all the members of the staff.

Even a green cub may learn by experience how to report plays, but if the work falls to him only once a month his training is very meager. It would seem in these days of much discussion of the theater that editors would realize the power which they have over the stage through their favorable or unfavorable criticism. But they do not, perhaps because they know little about the stage, and the appeal must be made to their reporters. Every reporter, except upon the largest papers, has the opportunity sooner or later to give his opinion on a play. In antic.i.p.ation of that opportunity these few words of advice are offered.

The first requisite in dramatic criticism is a background of knowledge of the drama and the stage. To children, and to some grown people, too, the stage is a little dream world of absolute realities. Their imaginations turn the picture that is placed before them into real, throbbing life. They do not see the unreality of the art, the suggestive effects, the flimsy delusions; to them the play is real life, the stage is a real drawing room or a real wood, and they cannot conceive of the actors existing outside their parts. But the critic must look deeper; he must understand the machinery that produces the effects and he must weigh the success of the effects. He must get behind the play and see the actors outside the cast and the stage without its scenery; the dramatic art must be to him a highly technical profession. For this reason, he must know something about dramatic technique; he must have some background of knowledge. He must study the theater from every point of view, from an orchestra seat, from behind the scenes, from a peekhole in the playwright's study, and from the pages of stage history. All the tricks and effects must be evident to him. The only thing that will teach him this is constant, intelligent theater-going. He must be familiar with all of the plays of the season and with all of the prominent plays of all seasons. A child cannot criticize the first play that he sees because he has nothing with which to compare it. In the same way a reporter cannot justly judge any kind of play until he has seen another of the same kind with which to compare it. Hence he must know many plays and must know something about the history of the theater. Dramatic criticism is relative and the critic must have a basis for his comparison.