After several days I made up my mind to see the city editor of these papers, regardless of hall boys. And so, going one day at one o’clock to the World, I started to walk right in, but, being intercepted11 as usual, lost my courage and retreated. However, as I have since thought, perhaps this was fortunate, for going downstairs I meditated13 most grievously as to my failure, my lack of skill and courage in carrying out my intention. So thoroughly14 did I castigate15 myself that I recovered my nerve and returned. I reëntered the small office, and finding two of the youths still on hand and waiting to intercept12 me, brushed them both aside as one might flies, opened the much-guarded door and walked in.
To my satisfaction, while they followed me and by threats and force attempted to persuade me to retreat, I gazed upon one of the most interesting city reportorial and editorial rooms that I have ever beheld16. It was forty or fifty feet wide by a hundred or more deep, and lighted, even by day in this gray weather, by a blaze of lights. The entire space from front to back was filled with desks. A varied17 company of newspaper men, most of them in shirt-sleeves, were hard at work. In the forward part of the room, near the door by which I had entered, and upon a platform, were several desks, at which three or four men were seated—the throne, as I quickly learned, of the city editor and his assistants. Two of these, as I could see, were engaged in reading and marking papers. A third, who looked as though he might be the city editor, was consulting with several men at his desk. Copy boys were ambling18 to and fro. From somewhere came the constant click-click-click of telegraph instruments and the howl of “Coppee!” I think I should have been forced to retire had it not been for the fact that as I was standing19 there, threatened and pleaded with by my two adversaries20, a young man (since distinguished21 in the journalistic world, Arthur Brisbane) who was passing through the room looked at me curiously22 and inquired courteously23:
“What is it you want?”
“I want,” I said, half-angered by the spectacle I was making and that was being made of me, “a job.”
“Where do you come from?”
“The West.”
“Wait a moment,” he said, and the youths, seeing that I had attracted his attention, immediately withdrew. He went toward the man at the desk whom I had singled out as the city editor, and turned and pointed25 to me. “This young man wants a job. I wish you would give him one.”
The man nodded, and my remarkable26 interrogator27, turning to me, said, “Just wait here,” and disappeared.
I did not know quite what to think, so astonished was I, but with each succeeding moment my spirits rose, and by the time the city editor chose to motion me to him I was in a very exalted28 state indeed. So much for courage, I told myself. Surely I was fortunate, for had I not been dreaming for months—years—of coming to New York and after great deprivation29 and difficulty perhaps securing a position? And now of a sudden here I was thus swiftly vaulted30 into the very position which of all others I had most craved31. Surely this must be the influence of a star of fortune. Surely now if I had the least trace of ability, I should be in a better position than I had ever been in before. I looked about the great room, as I waited patiently and delightedly, and saw pasted on the walls at intervals32 printed cards which read: Accuracy, Accuracy, Accuracy! Who? What? Where? When? How? The Facts—The Color—The Facts! I knew what those signs meant: the proper order for beginning a newspaper story. Another sign insisted upon Promptness, Courtesy, Geniality34! Most excellent traits, I thought, but not as easy to put into execution as comfortable publishers and managing editors might suppose.
Presently I was called over and told to take a seat, after being told: “I’ll have an assignment for you after a while.” That statement meant work, an opportunity, a salary. I felt myself growing apace, only the eye and the glance of my immediate24 superior was by no means cheering or genial33. This man was holding a difficult position, one of the most difficult in newspaperdom in America at the time, and under one of the most eccentric and difficult of publishers, Joseph Pulitzer.
This same Pulitzer, whom Alleyne Ireland subsequently characterized in so brilliant a fashion as to make this brief sketch35 trivial and unimportant save for its service here as a link in this tale, was a brilliant and eccentric Magyar Jew, long since famous for his journalistic genius. At that time he must have been between fifty-five and sixty years of age, semi-dyspeptic and half-blind, having almost wrecked36 himself physically37, or so I understood, in a long and grueling struggle to ascend38 to preeminence39 in the American newspaper world. He was the chief owner, as I understood, of not only the New York World but the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, the then afternoon paper of largest circulation and influence in that city. While I was in St. Louis the air of that newspaper world was surcharged or still rife40 with this remarkable publisher’s past exploits—how once, when he was starting in the newspaper world as a publisher, he had been horsewhipped by some irate41 citizen for having published some derogatory item, and, having tamely submitted to the castigation42, had then rushed into his sanctum and given orders that an extra should be issued detailing the attack in order that the news value might not be lost to the counting-room. Similarly, one of his St. Louis city or managing editors (one Colonel Cockerill by name, who at this very time or a very little later was still one of the managing editors of the New York World) had, after conducting some campaign of exposure against a local citizen by order of his chief, and being confronted in his office by the same, evidently come to punish him, drawn43 a revolver and killed him.
That was a part of what might have been called the makings of this great newspaper figure. Here in New York, after his arrival on the scene in 1884, at which time he had taken over a moribund44 journal called the World, he had literally45 succeeded in turning things upside down, much as did William Randolph Hearst after him, and as had Charles A. Dana and others before him. Like all aggressive newspaper men worthy46 the name, he had seized upon every possible vital issue and attacked, attacked, attacked—Tammany Hall, Wall Street (then defended by the Sun and the Herald47), the house of Morgan, some phases of society, and many other features and conditions of the great city. For one thing, he had cut the price of his paper to one cent, a move which was reported to have infuriated his conservative and quiescent48 rivals, who were getting two, three and five and who did not wish to be disturbed in their peaceful pursuits. The Sun in particular, which had been made by the brilliant and daring eccentricity49 of Dana and his earlier radicalism50, and the Herald, which originally owed its growth and fame to the monopoly-fighting skill of Bennett, were now both grown conservative and mutually attacked him as low, vulgar, indecent and the like, an upstart Jew whose nose was in every putrescent dunghill, ratting out filth51 for the consumption of the dregs of society. But is it not always so when any one arises who wishes to break through from submersion or nothingness into the white light of power and influence? Do not the resultant quakes always infuriate those who have ceased growing or are at least comfortably quiescent and who do not wish to be disturbed?
Just the same, this man, because of his vital, aggressive, restless, working mood, and his vaulting52 ambition to be all that there was to be of journalistic force in America, was making a veritable hell of his paper and the lives of those who worked for him. And although he himself was not present at the time but was sailing around the world on a yacht, or living in a villa53 on the Riviera, or at Bar Harbor, or in his town house in New York or London, you could feel the feverish54 and disturbing and distressing55 ionic tang of his presence in this room as definitely as though he were there in the flesh. Air fairly sizzled with the ionic rays of this black star. Of secretaries to this editor-publisher and traveling with him at the time but coming back betimes to nose about the paper and cause woe56 to others, there were five. Of sons, by no means in active charge but growing toward eventual57 control, two. Of managing editors, all slipping about and, as the newspaper men seemed to think, spying on each other, at one time as many as seven. He had so little faith in his fellow-man, and especially such of his fellow-men as were so unfortunate as to have to work for him, that he played off one against another as might have the council of the Secret Ten in Venice, or as did the devils who ruled in the Vatican in the Middle Ages. Every man’s hand, as I came to know in the course of time, was turned against that of every other. All were thoroughly distrustful of each other and feared the incessant58 spying that was going on. Each, as I was told and as to a certain extent one could feel, was made to believe that he was the important one, or might be, presuming that he could prove that the others were failures or in error. Proposed editorials, suggestions for news features, directions as to policy and what not, were coming in from him every hour via cable or telegraph. Nearly every issue of any importance was being submitted to him by the same means. He was, as described by this same Alleyne Ireland, undoubtedly59 semi-neurasthenic, a disease-demonized soul, who could scarcely control himself in anything, a man who was fighting an almost insane battle with life itself, trying to be omnipotent60 and what not else, and never to die.
But in regard to the men working here how sharp a sword of disaster seemed suspended above them by a thread, the sword of dismissal or of bitter reprimand or contempt. They had a kind of nervous, resentful terror in their eyes as have animals when they are tortured. All were either scribbling61 busily or hurrying in or out. Every man was for himself. If you had asked a man a question, as I ventured to do while sitting here, not knowing anything of how things were done here, he looked at you as though you were a fool, or as though you were trying to take something away from him or cause him trouble of some kind. In the main they hustled62 by or went on with their work without troubling to pay the slightest attention to you. I had never encountered anything like it before, and only twice afterwards in my life did I find anything which even partially63 approximated it, and both times in New York. After the peace and ease of Pittsburgh—God! But it was immense, just the same—terrific.
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1
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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dour
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| adj.冷酷的，严厉的；（岩石）嶙峋的；顽强不屈 | |
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brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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humanitarian
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| n.人道主义者，博爱者，基督凡人论者 | |
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blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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7
Prohibitionist
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| 禁酒主义者 | |
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8
janitor
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| n.看门人，管门人 | |
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9
subscribe
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| vi.(to)订阅，订购；同意；vt.捐助，赞助 | |
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10
pandering
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| v.迎合（他人的低级趣味或淫欲）( pander的现在分词 )；纵容某人；迁就某事物 | |
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11
intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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13
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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14
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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castigate
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| v.谴责；惩治 | |
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16
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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17
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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ambling
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的现在分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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19
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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20
adversaries
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| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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21
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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24
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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26
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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27
interrogator
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| n.讯问者；审问者；质问者；询问器 | |
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28
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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29
deprivation
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| n.匮乏；丧失；夺去，贫困 | |
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vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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31
craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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33
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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geniality
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| n.和蔼，诚恳；愉快 | |
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35
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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36
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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37
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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38
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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39
preeminence
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| n.卓越,杰出 | |
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40
rife
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| adj.(指坏事情)充斥的，流行的，普遍的 | |
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41
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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42
castigation
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| n.申斥，强烈反对 | |
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43
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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44
moribund
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| adj.即将结束的，垂死的 | |
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45
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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46
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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47
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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48
quiescent
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| adj.静止的，不活动的，寂静的 | |
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49
eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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50
radicalism
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| n. 急进主义, 根本的改革主义 | |
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51
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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52
vaulting
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| n.（天花板或屋顶的）拱形结构 | |
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53
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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54
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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55
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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56
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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57
eventual
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| adj.最后的，结局的，最终的 | |
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58
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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59
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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60
omnipotent
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| adj.全能的，万能的 | |
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61
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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62
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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63
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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