_Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a Journalist_
Your interesting letter regarding your future plans has been food for my
thoughts ever since its receipt this morning.
I remember when you were my guest a year ago that you told me you felt
like a big bird in a small cage. Every time you tried to spread your
wings you were bruised by bars. Your home environment with its few
duties and small responsibilities, your church and your charities,
failed to give you full opportunity for the exercise of all your vital
forces.
I knew then that you were longing for a career, and I felt confident
that some word would come from you before long, announcing a change in
your life.
I was prepared to hear one of two things--that you were soon to be
married, or that you had decided to enter the dramatic profession. When
a young and attractive woman grows restless and eager for change, she
is, unconsciously to herself, sending out a challenge to Fate to create
new conditions in her life. Despite the fact that no male member in the
"Fate" family has ever attained prominence in the eyes of the world, and
that the three sisters have claimed so much power over the destinies of
the human family, a little investigation will prove that they never make
any pronounced move without calling in the aid of Cupid.
Cupid is their prime minister, and we all know that prime ministers are
the power behind the throne of rulers.
When you sent out your eager thoughts for "something to happen," to
change the monotony of your existence, I knew the Fate sisters were
quite likely telegraphing Cupid that his assistance was needed to quiet
a small riot in the human family.
Once they set Cupid busy with a human heart, the Fates need give it no
further attention. When Cupid reports that his work with the heart is
finished, then the Angel of Resignation or the Angel of Death must
finish the task.
Knowing you to be particularly fond of the theatre as a distraction, I
had thought you might essay the rôle of society actress, confounding
appreciation for talent, as so many women do; and when your letter
opened with the announcement that you were about to give me a great
surprise, I was prepared to hear that you were billed to appear in a
walking rôle, with a road company, next season, with promises of greater
things "soon afterward."
But I confess to absolute surprise, as I read on, and learned that your
career was to lead you, not through Lovers' Lane, not before the
footlights, but along the hurly-burly byways and highways of American
newspaper work, beginning with interviews and reporting. Allow me to
quote from your letter before me.
"I do not imagine I have talent save the talent for work. I am, as you
know, well educated, as that expression goes to-day. I have always found
expression with the pen an easy mode of communicating my impressions and
ideas.
"I am observing, and I have a keen sense of humour, and I have (so
people tell me) an agreeable personality. I know the value of correct
dressing, and I am not oversensitive. That is, I am not one who will go
down at the first rebuff. I have the real American spirit, which makes
me believe myself as good as anybody, and you know my family name is one
to buoy up that impression. Therefore, it seems to me I cannot fail to
attain some degree of success. I am sure to obtain entrée to people and
functions, and I can describe what I see and hear in attractive form. I
shall shrink at no task, however difficult, and stop at no obstacle.
"I am determined to make a success as a reporter and a correspondent,
and after I have achieved something in that line I may look to an
editorial position; and who knows but my fertile imagination, coupled
with the experiences sure to come to me, may develop the great American
novelist the world is waiting?"
This is all interesting and admirable reasoning.
But, having seen much of the world, and known much of the various types
of young women writers and reporters and correspondents, I feel like
discussing the subject of your profession with you. At the instigation,
perhaps, of some editor who makes the mistake of thinking success must
be reached through sensationalism, you may be tempted to make your pen,
not _mightier_, but more _cruel_ than the sword.
I remember once upon a time meeting a young woman who had come, unbidden
by the hostess, to "write up" a social function where a number of
celebrated people were congregated.
Her employer had sent her to the house, telling her to obtain an entree
by fair means or foul; and as she was well dressed and quiet in manner,
she was not repulsed by an amiable hostess. This lady realized that the
reporter has his or her living to make, and must be either helped or
hindered by the willingness or unwillingness of people to furnish
material for copy. Being informed that the young woman was "literary,"
and chancing to stand near her for a few moments, I asked her the nature
of her work.
The young woman looked a trifle embarrassed, as she answered: "Well, to
tell you the truth, I write a good many disagreeable and nasty things
about people, especially people in public life. The editors who take my
work will have that kind. I have essayed better things, and they would
not touch them. So I am compelled to write the stuff they do want. I
must make a living." When I read the "stuff" in question, I was inclined
to doubt the assertion of the writer that "she must make a living." The
world would be the better should she and all her kind cease to exist.
Ridicule, falsehood, and insinuation were the leading traits of the
young woman's literary style. Costumes and personalities were
caricatured, and conversations and actions misstated. The entire article
would have been libelous, had it not been too cowardly to deserve so
bold a word.
It is useless for any man or woman to assert that such reportorial work
is done from necessity. The blackmailer and the pickpocket have as much
right to the plea, as the newspaper masked-assassin, with the concealed
weapon of a pen.
If you are ever asked by any editor to do this reportorial stiletto
work, let me urge you to take to professional burglary, rather than
consent to write what such an employer demands.
It is far less despicable to rob houses of things of mercantile value,
than to rob characters and reputations and personalities. Again, when
you are sent out upon a commission to obtain an interview with any
person, obtain what you seek and take nothing else away with you.
Just as you would scorn to pawn the watch of the famous actress which
you may find lying on the table as you pass out, so scorn to sell any
personal speech she may have carelessly dropped in your hearing which
you know was not intended for publication. Petty larceny is not a noble
feature of interviewing. Even though a facility for selling such
dishonestly gained property to advantage be yours, do not convince
yourself or be convinced that larceny should be included in your
reportorial duties.
I recollect speaking with you once upon the difficulties young women
encountered who attempted to win honours in a dramatic career. You felt
that the necessity to cater to the ideas and wishes of inferior minds,
in representing a character on the stage, would be one of the hardest
phases of stage life to meet.
"To be loud and spectacular where I wanted to be refined and subtle,"
you said, "just to catch some rough audience and fill the house, would
be insupportable. And yet I know actresses ofttimes must do that very
thing, to keep a foothold in the profession."
I am wondering how you will meet what seems to me a more humiliating
rôle, when you are sent out by an editor to gain an entree to some
person who does not wish to be interviewed.
Will you, when refused entrance at the front door, go in at the rear and
hobnob with the servants? will you spy, and watch and wait on street
corners, and hide yourself in hallways, and intercept and surprise, and
congratulate yourself when you have trapped your prey? That is the
shameful pathway which nowadays leads to what is called "successful
newspaper work."
You need to realize the facts before you enter the profession. Were you
my daughter, I am certain I should feel much less concern were you to
enter the theatrical field.
And yet if you choose to stand by your ideals, and retain your
self-respect, you can do so, and succeed in journalism.
If you have, as you say, observation, expression, humour, and ambition,
you can create a style of your own: which will not necessitate the loss
of all womanly sense of decency and pride in dealing with your fellow
beings. It might be well for you to cultivate and add to the list of
your qualities appreciation of all that is best in human nature and
worthiest of respect. If you understand the law of concentration and
demand, you can obtain an entrance to the people you wish to see,
through the front hall and a properly engraved card.
If that fails, a polite and frank note, stating your purpose and
intimating your self-respecting ideas of your profession, may prove
effective. Once establish your reputation as an interviewer who is not a
highwayman in disguise, and you will achieve tenfold the success your
less reputable confrères gain in the long run. Try and remember always
that fame, glory, or even crime, do not destroy all human sensibilities,
or render the possessor invulnerable to the thrust of a pen.
The greatest warrior who ever conquered armies has still the power to
feel hurt when he sees some personal blemish or misfortune described in
print.
You would never be guilty of saying to any man's face, "How hideous
your harelip renders you"--and why should you go from his presence and
make such a statement to the whole world concerning him? One of the most
gifted men America ever claimed was driven from his native land by the
cruel, bald, and heartless personalities of newspaper critics, who
seemed to consider it necessary to comment on his physical infirmities
whenever his genius was mentioned.
During the lifetime of one of England's great literary women, an
American correspondent who had been given an interview in her home
described her as possessing the "face of a horse." Surely this was
agreeable reading for a gifted woman whose genius had delighted
thousands!
It has sometimes seemed to me that theatrical road life with a
one-night-stand company would be less brutalizing to the finer
sensibilities, and less lowering to the ideals of a young girl, than the
method of work required of many newspaper reporters in America to-day.
The editor who scores the actress for lax morals seems often to ignore
the fact that there is a mental as well as a physical prostitution.
Look to it that you do not trail your banner of noble womanhood in the
dust, at the demand of any editor or syndicate. Keep your purity of pen,
as well as your chastity of body, and believe no man who tells you that
you will get on better in the world by selling either. There is room
higher up.