An Old Newspaper Rookery—Reactionary Sectionalism in Cincinnati and
Louisville—_The Courier-Journal_
I
My dream of wealth through my commission on the Confederate cotton I
was to sell to English buyers was quickly shattered. The cotton was
burned and I found myself in the early spring of 1865 in the little
village of Glendale, a suburb of Cincinnati, where the future Justice
Stanley Matthews had his home. His wife was a younger sister of my
mother. My grandmother was still alive and lived with her daughter and
son-in-law.
I was received with open arms. A few days later the dear old lady said
to me: “I suppose, my son, you are rather a picked bird after your
adventures in the South. You certainly need better clothing. I have
some money in bank and it is freely yours.”
I knew that my Uncle Stanley had put her up to this, and out of sheer
curiosity I asked her how much she could let me have. She named what
seemed to me a stupendous sum. I thanked her, told her I had quite a
sufficiency for the time being, slipped into town and pawned my watch;
that is, as I made light of it afterward in order to escape the
humiliation of borrowing from an uncle whose politics I did not
approve, I went with my collateral to an uncle who had no politics at
all and got fifty dollars on it! Before the money was gone I had found,
through Judge Matthews, congenial work.
There was in Cincinnati but one afternoon newspaper—the Evening
Times—owned by Calvin W. Starbuck. He had been a practical printer but
was grown very rich. He received me kindly, said the editorial force
was quite full—must always be, on a daily newspaper—“but,” he added,
“my brother, Alexander Starbuck, who has been running the amusements,
wants to go a-fishing in Canada—to be gone a month—and, if you wish,
you can during his absence sub for him.”
It was just to my hand and liking. Before Alexander Starbuck returned
the leading editor of the paper fell from a ferryboat crossing the Ohio
River and was drowned. The next day General Starbuck sent for me and
offered me the vacant place.
“Why, general,” I said, “I am an outlawed man: I do not agree with your
politics. I do not see how I can undertake a place so conspicuous and
responsible.”
He replied: “I propose to engage you as an editorial manager. It is as
if building a house you should be head carpenter, I the architect. The
difference in salary will be seventy-five dollars a week against
fifteen dollars a week.”