Judge — June 7, 1924 — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE The spring-board. RB.FULLEe POWER OF THE PRESS or, Daily Journalism in a Great Si City Room of the Dau ‘D Bias, net paid circulation 888.888 (newsstand and subway). Clatter of ty pe- writers, telegraph tickers, and cries of “Copy!” and “Boy!” City Editor and his fant face each other over juctaposed ; clipping, telephoning, ete. corner of room a bull-necked rewrite man is bawling out district reporter over phone in trying to ascertain if name of fireman in- jured in factor; M as in “mut” or with N as in “noodle In another corner sits Lydia Lachrymose. professional sob sister, shedding hot tears on the story she is writing about homeless Isiddies left destitute in domestic tragedy. Contrary to tradition, the floor is not strewn with papers. pither are the re- porters smolcing. This is by mandate of the Managing Editor for the better morale of the staff. The day before he gave the star reporter a bonus for his exclusive story, “Sleuths Nab Fair Chorine in Aged Clergyman’s Lap.” On the walls are framed mottoes, reading: “Be Accurate, Even If It Hurts.” “Don’t Forget the Sex Interest. Hit On All Sex.” City Editor—Anything new from Police Headquarters, Murph? Assistant—Yes, sir. Flynn reports that the Schlitz woman, who broke her In one rgins with “of a neck in the auto acci dying in Central Hospital. City Editor—No, let her dic! thing else? Assistant—Just got a tip on the phone suicide down at Huckleberry street corner Willow. Party name of Ratski. Out of work. Despondent. City Editor—Nope, that’s good Cheap neighborhood. — Cheap people. Not worth sending a reporter on. Assistant—Well, here's loose over on South M. twelve school children, be good. City Editor—Murphy, how many times must I tell you that if a dog bites a man, that’s not news, but if a man bites a ‘snews! istant—Sorry, no a mad dog run in street. Bit That ought to boss. It's a long time since they let me out of journalism school where they teach that old gag. City) Editor—Gad, what a dull day! We'll have to fill up the sheet somehow. All we've got is that family of six poisoned by wild mushrooms, the election scandal, that North End lynching, and the double shooting over the river. Not even a good murder—and this town more than 2,345,- 000 in population, too! Assistant Cheer up, boss. Let's hope City for the worst! (Telephone rings. Female if the Daity Bias can send up three reporters and two photographers to see her “child progeny’ —the little girl can play the piccolo with her feet in seven lan- guages.) Sorry, We've had eighteen prodigies in the last two weeks voice ask: and we can't possibly use any more. But remember od prizes for tips! ‘Three automobiles every day— a runabout for the best tip on an accident, a coupé for the best tip on a fire, and a limousine for the best tip on a murder. Yes—call Duplex 0000, Go'by! (Reporters slowly filter in with assign- ments and report to City Editor for instruc- tions.) Parker (explaining story theft”)—You see, boss, these here three himbos grab a hold of the wealthy dame, Mrs. Grubstein, at an all-night poker session, and while two of the yeggs cover the guests with their gats, the third strips her of her poils and diamond rings and all beat it off in a waiting taxi... . But it looks phoney to me, I think. May be a frameup. Why, the cops won't even talk! City Editor—All right, Parker, go to it. Give me about 600 worc Mention in your lead that the police are strangely silent’ about the amazing — hold-up. we give ¢ of “gem comicbooks.com