Newspaper work is an exacting profession, because things a journalist has done do not count. Like a hen he must lay an entirely new egg every day.—From an address by Arthur Brisbane at Columbia University, New York.

As many changes have come in recent years in country journalism as in any other line of human endeavor.... The pronoun “we” has been banished from the editorial and news columns, and the “slop” and “hog wash” known as “puffs”—that is, fulsome compliment and paid-for flattery—has become obsolete.—From an editorial in the Fulton (Mo.) Gazette.

The three notes of modern reporting are clarity, terseness, objectivity. The news writer of to-day aims to tell a story that shall be absolutely intelligible, even to minds below the average—since everybody reads; to economize space to the last degree, and to keep himself, his prejudices, preferences, opinions, out of the story altogether.—From an editorial in the St. Louis Republic.

The news writer is the agent of the paper that employs him. As such, in a wider sense he is the agent of the public, which relies on the newspaper to keep it informed of the day’s happenings. The story is the all-important thing; the reader as a rule cares nothing about who wrote it or what the writer thinks of it. The viewpoint of the news writer must be that of the unprejudiced, but alert, observer. He must approach his story with a mind open to the facts and he must record the facts unvarnished by his own preferences and opinions. Comment on the news of the day is the function of the editorial columns. It has no place in the news story. The writer who willfully injects his own likes and dislikes into the story breaks faith with his employer, whose space he is using, and with the public that buys the paper.

The ideal news story, apart from questions of style, has these qualities:

1. It is written without prejudice. It is fair, both in spirit and in detail.

2. It is written from an impersonal, objective viewpoint.

3. It is written in good taste.

4. It has originality.

FAIRNESS

In writing your story remember always that it will be read not merely by a circle of men and women of your own tastes and opinions, but by persons of all classes, of all races, of dozens of different shades of religious and political belief. The daily press is the popular university. Protestant, Catholic and Jew look to it for information; it sets the standard of English for the masses; for many it is the only reading. The tremendous influence of the press imposes an obligation on the news writer. His story must be simple and direct, so that all can understand; more important still, it must be fair.

Approach every story in a spirit of open-mindedness, remembering that nearly every question has two or more sides. Tell the facts and let the reader draw his own conclusions. Tell all the facts essential to a clear understanding of the story. A story may be true in detail and yet work an injustice by omission. Let your story be fair in detail and in the impression it leaves.

Even aside from the ethical obligation, business reasons demand fairness. No paper can afford to offend a large group of readers by a slighting reference to a race or a religious sect. Call the races by their right names. Words such as “Dago” are forbidden by fairness, by good taste and by business policy.

Before making a damaging statement about a person, be sure you have legal evidence in which there is no loophole. Hesitate even then—go to the city editor for instruction. If you are a correspondent, let your office know the facts—all the facts. Bear in mind that homicide is not necessarily murder. There is grave danger, no matter how convincing the evidence may appear to be, in calling a person a murderer before he has been so branded by the courts. If he is acquitted he has ground for a libel suit against the newspaper that has charged him with crime.

IMPERSONALITY

News writing is objective to the last degree, in the sense that the writer is not allowed to “editorialize.” He must leave himself out of the story. True, he may give it, in his way of telling the facts, a certain individuality and power, but he is not permitted to cross the border line between the strict presentation of news and the editorial. Only writers whose stories are signed are allowed to use the capital I. They are the exceptions in modern newspaper making. The average news writer, however brilliant his work, receives only the commendation of his fellows. It is for this he strives, and the satisfaction that comes of work well done, rather than for public recognition. Always in the middle of things, close to history in the making,—and that is one of the fascinations of the “game”—the newspaper man must yet remain in the background. The story is the big, the vital thing. In it, for the time being, he is willing to sink his personality.

The age of personal journalism in its old sense has passed. In the new era the writer’s personality counts for just as much, or more, but he must use it wholly as an instrument belonging to his newspaper and the public. It is not meant by this that he must work always by rule and line, but that he must refrain from coloring his story with his personal prejudices and opinions. Even the “we” of the editorial columns is fast being discarded for a more impersonal form. Most city newspapers now avoid it altogether and the same tendency is seen in the more enterprising country journals. It is still used in a large number of papers published in the rural districts, both editorially and in the news sections, but these are gossipy neighborhood chronicles rather than newspapers in the modern understanding of the word.

Impersonal writing does not consist alone in the omission of “we” and “I.” Avoid generalities that are likely to imply approval or disapproval on the part of the writer. If Smith was killed by a neighbor, tell when and where and how he was killed. Don’t generalize by saying, “A dastardly crime was committed.” If your story is pathetic it is not necessary to tell the reader so. Let him find it out from the simple, human facts. In describing a pretty girl, don’t stop with saying she is pretty; tell how she is pretty—tell the color of her hair and eyes.

Strive always to be specific. With this in mind you are not likely to stray far from the impersonal.

GOOD TASTE

Cultivate good taste in news writing, as in all kinds of writing. Your story is read by the woman in the home as well as by the man on the street. Leave out all revolting details and think twice before you use a word or an expression of doubtful propriety. Good taste distinguishes the story written carefully, with its possible effect on the reader’s sensibilities in mind, from the story that runs recklessly into paths avoided in conversation.

Never use cheap slang. One kind of slang, that which is clean-cut and expressive, without taint of vulgarity, may afford a legitimate short-cut in news writing as in speech. An expression of this type, if it persists in the language, ultimately finds a place in the dictionary. It is the other kind of slang, the vulgar or silly, against which the news writer must be on his guard.

Horrible details are not wanted by the well-edited newspaper. Leave out the three buckets of blood. The word “blood” in itself brings an unpleasant picture before the reader and may shock a person of delicate sensibilities. Most newspapers caution their writers against its overuse.

Certain things are glossed over in our daily speech. This is true in ever greater degree of the newspapers. Horace Greeley said that what Providence permitted to happen he wasn’t too proud to report. That is not the working principle of the modern newspaper, which omits some things and edits others. The moral obligation of the newspaper to its readers, as well as good taste, demands the pruning down of some classes of news. “All the News That’s Fit to Print” implies this obligation.

It is poor taste to attempt facetiousness in reporting a death. Never call a body a “stiff.” Puns on the names of persons, unless they are peculiarly apt or are justified by special circumstances, are to be avoided. The same rule applies to exaggerated dialect put in an offensive manner and to nicknames of the races. These instances further illustrate the need of fairness and sanity in the writer’s viewpoint. Common sense is an excellent guide in many of the delicate little problems of this kind that crop up daily in every newspaper office.

ORIGINALITY

Originality is the quality that gives a news story distinction. Rules may aid, but the power to make a story original must come largely from the writer himself. Many writers can put facts together into a coherent whole. The highest rewards are reserved for those who can tell old facts in a new way.

The main secret of original news writing lies in keeping the impression fresh. Everything interests the new reporter. As he gains familiarity with the work, there is danger that his viewpoint will become jaded. Especially if he is covering the same run of news day after day must he fight against this tendency to fall into a rut. The newspaper has no use for the man in a rut. The reporter who becomes cynical loses the news writer’s best asset, the power to feel the pathos or the injustice or the humor of the thing he is writing about. If he himself cannot feel his story he is not likely to impress the reader with it. The newspaper workshop, unlike any other, must create something different every day, although human nature, from which it gets its raw materials, remains the same through the ages. There is no variation from one day to another in the basic themes of the news, but there is an endless variation in the local color, in the shadings of motive, in all the details that go to make one story different from all others. Take the story of death in a tenement house fire. There is the outline, the basic fact, of stories without number; yet each story, told with its wealth of human, moving detail, has the power to affect the reader as if the theme itself were absolutely new. A dozen houses in the same block look alike from the outside; yet the life that each conceals is different from the life in all the others.

Here, then, is need for originality in the writing of news. If the reporter’s outlook is cynical he is likely to overlook the human side of the story for the lifeless skeleton of commonplace facts. His story may be mechanically correct, but it has no power of appeal. Without distorting a single fact, in plain, everyday words, the news writer may tell a story of human suffering that will rouse his readers to generous response. This he may do, not by editorial comment, but by putting the facts in the most effective, which is usually the simplest, manner. Editorial comment in such a story would weaken the effect. The facts, properly told, are enough.

One word of caution perhaps should be given: In looking for the feature do not descend to the trivial. To return to an illustration just used, don’t write the lead of your fire story on the rescue of the family cat and overlook the fact that human lives were lost. Originality does not consist in straining after a feature at the expense of the vital things in a story. Triviality comes with cynicism. The power to be truly original, to put life into a story based on a commonplace theme, comes with the broad, human sympathy that results from keeping the impression ever fresh.

SUGGESTIONS FOR HOME OR CLASS-ROOM STUDY

I.—The following story, adapted from a newspaper, violates practically every rule that can be laid down for the writing of news. Apart from its errors of style, it is written with prejudice and in bad taste. Rewrite the facts in half the present space, remembering (1) to be fair; (2) to leave yourself out of the story; (3) to omit revolting details; (4) to avoid “fine writing” and cheap slang.

Tom Jones, one of Smithton’s worthless citizens, tried to shuffle off this mortal coil last Friday afternoon by cutting his throat with a pocket knife.

It seems Jones had filed complaint against John Smith and Susie Williams for stealing. They were brought up in Justice Wagner’s court on Friday afternoon for trial, Jones being the prosecuting witness. When he was put upon the witness stand he flatly contradicted himself in statements made in his complaint to the Prosecuting Attorney. When he did this Mr. Brown at once dismissed the case against John Smith and Susie Williams and filed complaint against Jones for perjury, and put him under arrest. Constable Walker at once took him in charge and was preparing commitment papers, when Jones expressed a wish to go into the hall for a drink of water, which permission was given him by the constable. Soon after he had left the room an unusual noise was heard like the rushing of water and on investigation the man was found lying on the floor with his throat cut and the blood spurting like water from a fountain. He stuck the blade of an ordinary pocket knife into his throat and severed some of the arteries, and would probably have bled to death, except for the unfortunate arrival of a physician who stopped the blood, and he is now in a fair way to recover and may yet go over the road.

(“It seems” is unnecessary at the beginning of the second paragraph. Instead of “tried to shuffle off this mortal coil” say simply that he “tried to kill himself.” Cut out the grandiloquent phrases.) II.—Note the stereotyped form of the following story, in which the feature is obscured by a mass of routine detail. The story is as lifeless as if it had been constructed by filling in blank spaces in a set form. Although it has certain unusual elements, it is totally lacking in originality of treatment:

After he had been arrested on complaint of Henry Flannigan, 56 years old, who conducts a repair shop at 1000 Center street, on a charge of stealing two revolvers from the shop Sunday afternoon, William Weaver, 18 years old, of 3445 Broadway, turned on the man and accused him of being a second Fagin, of running a fence and of having several small boys employed to steal goods for him.

The police arrested Flannigan and his sons, Henry, Jr., aged 15, and Fred, 14, at their home, 841 Division street, and Alex. Jones, 19, 1043 West avenue. Flannigan denied he was running a “fence” but admitted buying a lot of goods from the boys. They were locked up at the Fifteenth District Police Station.

(Query: Does the average reader understand what “running a fence” means? Why not make this clear? It may be noted that some newspapers insist that police stations be identified for the reader, not by their numbers, but by the names of the streets on which they are situated. Thus, in St. Louis, the Fourth District Station is called the Carr Street Station; the Ninth, the Dayton Street Station, and so on. The number, as a rule, means nothing to the reader, while the street name gives him at once an idea of the locality.)

III.—In the following short feature story the writer has got away from set forms and produced a readable story. Little stories of this type are highly esteemed by newspapers with a leaning toward human-interest news—especially if they are accompanied with pictures:

CHICAGO, Nov. 7.—Stephen Rheim hit into a double play, although he didn’t know it for several days, when his safe hit won a game for the West Chicago High School baseball team over the Wheaton nine last June. In the grand stand was Miss Catherine Smith, also of West Chicago, and a loyal fan. “If he makes a hit I’ll marry him,” she cried, according to friends, as Rheim came to bat at a critical point in the game. After Rheim’s hit had won the game friends told him of Miss Smith’s remark and introduced him to the blushing young woman, who explained that she was “just joking.” But Rheim fell in love and remained there.