OF PRINTERS’ INK
From the time that he was first able to spell and connect one word
with another, Herbert was fascinated by the sight of a printed page.
If he saw a circular or a fragment of newspaper on the sidewalk he was
impelled to pick it up and read its contents. The weekly paper was a
rare treat to him and he perused its columns from the first page to the
last, until he knew the contents almost by heart. The sight of a book
of fiction or adventure or biography was one of the greatest joys on
earth to him, and he eagerly devoured everything of that kind that came
in his way. Early in his school-days he had written little essays which
after being read in secret, many times, were finally consigned to the
flames as being unworthy of publicity.
The town, among its other places and things of interest, possessed a
weekly newspaper known as the Cleverly Banner. Herbert never passed the
office of this newspaper without being filled with a wild desire to
be on the inside instead of the outside of the building. Frequently
he stood looking in the window watching the old-fashioned press as it
slowly ground out the regular weekly edition. Once or twice he had
occasion to call at the office of the Banner with reference to some
printing that was being done there, and on such occasions he was thrown
into transports of delight. The smell of the ink, the sound of the
presses, and the sight of the freshly printed pages sent him into an
ecstacy that was almost heavenly in its pleasure.
When he decided to quit farming his eye and heart unconsciously turned
towards the little newspaper office. One morning he heard that an
apprentice was needed there, he hastened to make application for the
position. The building occupied by the Banner set back on a little
lot facing the main street of the town. It was a two story and a half
dwelling, and an old faded wooden sign over the doorway announced the
name of the paper and informed the residents that “Job printing of all
kinds could be furnished on short notice.” The building itself was half
rotted away from age and want of paint. One editor and one owner after
another had succeeded to the Banner; but it had never occurred to any
of them that it would be a good stroke of business policy to repair or
at least paint the exterior of the building.
The first floor of the Banner office was taken up with a little
counter where such business as was transacted with the public might
be cared for. The remainder of the room was occupied by a very
large old-fashioned printing press. It worked very slowly, and as a
consequence had to go steadily two or three days a week in order to
turn out the edition of the paper. The second floor, which resembled a
hay loft more than a place of business, was utilized as the editorial
and composing room. An old-fashioned stove in the centre of the room
threw out a heat that made the apartment decidedly uncomfortable at
times. A big, sleek cat dozing placidly beneath this stove was one of
the permanent fixtures of the room.
It was quite early in the morning when Herbert called at the Banner
office, and he did not find anyone on the first floor. He rapped on
the counter to attract attention, and presently a voice from upstairs
called out in clear, loud tones:
“Come upstairs.”
He climbed up the rude stairway slowly, and finally emerged into the
editorial and composing room. An elderly man sat in an old-fashioned
armchair in front of a little desk with its top sloping very much like
the desks used in some schools. He was writing rapidly and pausing
every now and then to dip his pen into a big ink-pot which stood by
his side. Visitors to the Banner office were well acquainted with
that enormous ink-stand. It had been used by the various editors from
the time of the foundation of the Banner and went back so far that its
origin must finally have been lost in the mists of antiquity. When
the industrious writer had finished a sentence or a paragraph to his
satisfaction he wheeled about in his chair and expectorated a mouthful
of tobacco juice into an ample cuspidor which stood on the other side
of the desk. He had a shock of snow white hair, very much in disorder,
caused no doubt from his habit of running his fingers through his hair
when in search of a fugitive thought. He was in his shirt sleeves,
which was his usual habit, for he always protested that it was not
possible for a man to do his best work harnessed up in a coat and vest.
Such was Noah Brooks, the editor of the Cleverly Banner, and one of the
characters of the town. He looked up from his work as Herbert entered,
and said:
“Hello there, young man! What can I do for you?”
“I want you to give me a job,” said Herbert simply.
This reply seemed to amaze the editor, for he laid down his pen, pushed
back his chair, and placing his feet on the desk before him, looked at
Herbert with a good-natured smile. It seemed almost a minute before he
spoke. When he did it was to say:
“So you want a job, do you? Well, that’s a laudable ambition; but I am
afraid you have come to the wrong place.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” said Herbert.
Noah Brooks looked at Herbert again before replying, and then moving
slightly and raising the index finger of his right hand, he pointed to
the rear of the room and said:
“Do you see those fellows over there?”
Herbert looked around and saw a man engaged in setting type, while a
boy with a great big ink roller in one hand was engaged in taking a
proof of a circular that was about to be printed.
“Yes sir,” he answered obediently; “I see them.”
“Well, do you know,” said the old gentleman with a chuckle, “that about
all those two fellows do is to sit around and wait for Saturday night
in order to draw their salaries.”
The humor of this seemed to appeal to the speaker so strongly that
he had to pause and engage in a hearty laugh before proceeding. The
man and the boy did not appear to be offended. On the contrary, they
laughed too, as if they were accustomed to the good-natured jests of
their employer.
“I am very sorry,” said Herbert, breaking the silence; “but I was
really anxious to get employment on this paper--I have long wished to
enter the newspaper business.”
“Is that so? Do you know anything about the business?”
“No,” said Herbert; “I am entirely ignorant of it; but I felt that I
could learn.”
“That’s the way to talk,” was the hearty reply. “The only way to learn
to do a thing is to do it. I think you would pan out all right in an
office of this kind; but I am sorry to say we have no opening at the
present time.”
Herbert said “Good-by” quietly; but once out of the building he felt
very much depressed at his failure to secure a situation. He did
not tell his mother of his adventure, not wishing to annoy her with
anything that was not of a cheerful nature. During the next few months
he managed to earn a small amount of money by odd bits of employment
that were furnished to him through Horace Coke, the lawyer; but as he
had no taste for the law he did not feel very much encouraged over this
occasional work. His mind still dwelt upon the newspaper business.
One evening he wrote a little item describing an entertainment given at
the Cleverly High School, and mailed it to the office of the Banner,
without indicating the name or address of the writer. After he had
sent this little message on its way, he was figuratively speaking, on
pins and needles until the next issue of the Cleverly Banner should
appear. On the date of its regular issue, he hurried home in order to
get the paper as soon as possible. He was disappointed. It had not
arrived. Unable to wait, he rushed to the post office, and securing
the paper, he eagerly tore off the wrapping and opened the page which
contained the local news. What he found there caused his face to
flush scarlet. The little item that he had written with such care was
reproduced, word for word, as he had penned it, without a change of any
kind. He felt so glad that he could have shouted for joy. Several other
persons were in the post office, and he looked around at them as if to
see whether they had read his secret; but apparently no one was paying
any attention to him. He walked home in a fever of happiness, and it
was only by the strongest effort on his part that he refrained from
telling his mother about the incident.
Naturally he continued to send little items to the paper from week
to week. Sometimes they failed to appear. On such occasions he felt
a sense of loss and disappointment that was far out of proportion to
the importance of the subject. But when the paragraphs did appear that
feeling of elation and joy returned to him on each occasion.
Finally he determined to call at the office of the Banner once more. It
was just possible that there might be an opening, and he made up his
mind not to miss it merely for the sake of asking. The venerable editor
with the snow white hair was in his place as usual. He recognized
Herbert immediately, and cried out:
“Hello young man! I see you are here again.”
“Yes sir,” replied Herbert. “I do not want to be a bore, but I felt
that it would be all right to inquire whether an opportunity had arisen
by which I could secure employment on the Banner.”
Once again the old man looked at him in that quizzical manner.
“Perseverance wins, boy,” he said, “and you have won. I do need
somebody. My apprentice has left me very suddenly, and I think I can
make use of you. He only got four dollars a week. I know that will be
pretty small for you; but I can afford to give you six dollars, and if
you are willing to take it the job is yours.”
Herbert could not conceal the pleasure that he felt.
“I will be delighted to accept,” he said. “When do you want me to
begin, and what may my duties be?”
“You can begin to-morrow morning at eight o’clock,” was the response;
“and your duties at first will consist of sweeping out the office,
serving the Banner every week, working the printing press, and making
yourself generally useful. That does not sound very poetic, does it?
But you will find that it will prove a very useful discipline and may
be valuable to you later in life.”
Herbert began his work the following morning and did everything in his
power to give satisfaction to his employer. If he swept out the office,
he did it so carefully as to win the praise of the journeyman printer.
When he served the papers, he did it with such accuracy as to merit
the approval of the editor. This continued for several weeks, and at
the end of that time he began to contribute little local items to the
paper, much to the satisfaction of Mr. Brooks. In the meantime Mr.
Anderson had opened a night school in the town, and Herbert resolved to
attend the sessions of this school in order to perfect his education as
much as possible.
Towards the close of the winter Mr. Brooks complimented Herbert by
authorizing him to write the Irvington letter for the Banner. Irvington
was the adjoining town, and by this new arrangement Herbert had to go
there for the items regularly every week. He walked there and back in
mid-winter in order to obtain this copy, and although the weather
was sometimes very severe, he never complained. Under his arrangement
with Mr. Brooks, he was to remain at the office of the Cleverly Banner
until he was twenty years of age. Incidentally he was initiated into
the mystery of typesetting, for the Banner, although progressive in
some ways, had not yet reached the dignity of typesetting machines. The
printing press gave him more trouble than any other part of his work.
On the days that he had to assist in working the press his hands were
blistered and his back lamed by constant stooping. Yet he was always
kindly treated by those in authority, and in return merited their
confidence and good will.
Late one afternoon on his way home he met Mary Black, who was as sweet
and kind and tender as ever. Her first thought was about his new
position.
“Herbert, I hear that you are connected with the Banner.”
“Yes,” he said modestly, “that is true.”
“Are you the editor?”
“Not exactly.”
“But what do you write for the paper?”
“When I do write,” he said with a little hesitancy, “it is usually the
local paragraphs.”
“Did you write the account of the last entertainment at the Cleverly
High School?”
“Yes,” he replied, with an inquiring look in his eyes.
“Oh!” she exclaimed impulsively, “I think that that was just splendid.
It was one of the nicest things I ever read.”
Herbert flushed with conscious pride at this unexpected praise. He
tried to turn it off by saying that it was only an ordinary piece of
work; but as he walked away he had a difficult time in smothering the
feeling of pride that rose in his breast in spite of himself. He could
scarcely eat his supper that night so strong was the feeling of elation
within him, and even as late as bedtime the recollection of the praise
given him so sweetly filled him with as much delight as if he had
suddenly fallen heir to a great fortune.