THE FEATURE STORY
Richard Whiteing, the English novelist, is a strong believer
that the art of literature has no greater aid than daily
journalism. Speaking once he said:
“Some foolish people have said that daily journalism is killing
literature in its highest forms. I say, to the contrary, that
the daily paper provides a sort of first course in literature,
and I am an immense admirer of the clear, incisive style
adopted by the halfpenny press.
“It stimulates curiosity, and when once you have done that in
any human being you have started him on the right road. The one
deadly thing is apathy. The cow in the field has no note of
interrogation. The savage might see an aëroplane and not wonder.
“You can lead a man from the curbstone to the stars when you
have once made him curious. A newspaper forces a man to be
curious.
“The dear old truth--that’s all we want. The truth is so
beautiful, so amazingly interesting, so much more wonderful
than fiction. Therefore I say that, quite apart from morality,
it is policy for a paper to tell the truth.”--_The Fourth
Estate._
The feature story, as the name indicates, has more to do with the
development of some interesting feature suggested by the day’s news
than with the strict presentation of news for its own sake. It is
therefore not subject to the same rules that govern the writing of
the news story. Indeed it can hardly be said that the feature story
is subject to any rules, except those that apply to composition in
general. Individuality in style counts for more in the feature story
than in the news story that has no other purpose than to inform.
Greater freedom is allowed the writer; he is not required, for one
thing, to summarize his story in the lead. On the contrary, he may
employ the fictional method of working up to a climax. The main end of
all feature writing is to make the story interesting. If the writer
succeeds in this, it does not much matter on what plan his story is
constructed.
WHAT THE FEATURE STORY IS NOT
What the feature story is can be indicated by showing what it is not.
In the first place, it is not a skeletonized recital of bare facts.
This was amusingly brought out by the New York _Sun_ in reply to the
statement of a college professor that the journalism of the future
would be “wholly without decorative effects.” The _Sun_ gave half a
dozen examples of what might be expected from a journalism of that
type. Here is the _Sun’s_ “Report of a Suicide”:
The body of a young woman was removed from the river at the
foot of 309th street by the harbor police yesterday afternoon.
Pinned to her dress was a note stating that she purposed
committing suicide, signed Edith G. Wannaquit.
The young woman was about twenty-six years of age. She was not
at all beautiful. She was, in fact, noticeably plain of feature.
Her fingers were not covered with magnificent diamonds. She
wore no rings at all. Her clothing was of the most inexpensive
material.
There is no mystery whatever connected with the case, nor have
the police authorities the slightest idea that she was the
victim of foul play.
It is deemed positive from her appearance that she did not
belong to some distinguished family of this community. The
young woman simply had become tired of living and she jumped
into the river--that is all. The case is wholly lacking in any
element or feature of a sensational character. The names of the
Wannaquit family appear in the city directory but no inquiries
were made of any members of the family, the case not being
deemed of sufficient importance.
It must not be inferred that the feature story, or any other kind of
news story, should distort the facts. The writer in the _Sun_ has
merely attempted to reduce to the absurd the theory that journalism
should put aside attractiveness in writing for a bare summary of facts.
The modern newspaper, while its main purpose is still to inform, is
coming more and more to be a source of entertainment also. It aims to
instruct, but in such a manner that the reader will not be bored.
STORIES FOR ENTERTAINMENT
After a day’s work normal men and women want to be amused. They are
willing to receive instruction, too, but prefer it in the guise of
entertainment. Therefore the newspaper incorporates features that may
be likened to a vaudeville show. The comic supplement is the most
pronounced feature of this kind. Between the two extremes of the comic
supplement and the editorial columns are feature stories on an infinite
variety of subjects, designed to be instructive, entertaining or simply
amusing.
This encroachment of the newspapers on the magazines has opened up a
vast new field to the special writer. Signed articles, ranging from
beauty talks to sermons on civic ideals, may be found on the editorial
pages of many enterprising journals of wide circulation. Perhaps a
separate page, bearing some such title as “Magazine Section” or “The
Home Readers’ Page,” may be given to this class of articles. The bulky
Sunday issue is made up in large part of similar features. Although
this branch of modern newspaper making is distinct from the strict
presentation of news and hence does not fall within the scope of this
book, it is mentioned here as indicative of the newspaper’s aim to
furnish attractive reading for all classes.
The feature story, as the news writer uses the term, is usually
unsigned and is written for the news columns. It is not, however,
what has been called the plain news story--that is, a story told only
because of its news value as a recent happening. The feature story must
be timely; it should have also an element of attractiveness, through
its humor or its pathos, that may be lacking in the story written only
to inform.
THE HUMAN-INTEREST STORY
Many feature stories may be classified under what the newspaper man
calls human-interest stories. The human-interest story is just what the
name implies. It is written not for its immediate value as news, but
for its power to affect the reader through his emotions--to make him
smile or to arouse his sympathy. Its appeal is directed to the interest
that people feel in the intimate doings of other people.
Real human interest cannot be faked. The writer must have seen and
understood his story before he can tell it in a way to impress the
reader with its truth. Much depends on the manner of the telling. A
pathetic story loses its power if it descends to pathos; a humorous
story must be something more than mere flippancy. There is special
need that the writer choose his words carefully. Perhaps the best
prescription for all kinds of human-interest stories, especially
those designed to arouse the reader’s sympathy, is to write simply
and naturally. False emotion is easily detected. Here again the
writer should remember that the short, Anglo-Saxon words are the most
effective. Ninety-seven per cent. of the words in the Bible are from
the Anglo-Saxon. Numerous instances might be cited of human-interest
stories that have moved newspaper readers to contribute generously
toward the alleviation of suffering. Such stories are not editorials.
The writer does not say: This is a pathetic story. He simply tells the
facts, and if the story is truly pathetic nothing in the way of “fine
writing” is needed or desirable.
THE EDITOR’S PROBLEM
The city editor is often called upon to determine whether a happening
shall be treated only as news or shall be expanded into a feature,
or human-interest, story. The story of an aged miser’s death, for
example, may be worth only a paragraph if written for its immediate
news value alone. But underlying the surface facts there may be a
story of intense human interest--the man’s life story. The field of
investigation that opens before the news gatherer is fraught with
possibilities. It is for him to clothe the skeleton of the story with
the flesh and blood of reality. What of the man’s early life? Why his
passion for hoarding money? What deprivations did he undergo to gratify
that passion? These and other questions come trooping to the mind of
the reporter in his quest of the story. The mere fact of the miser’s
death becomes incidental--it is the “peg,” as the city editor says, on
which the story hangs. What the reporter finds becomes the basis of a
human-interest story. A paragraph stating simply that an old man known
to his neighbors as a miser had died would mean little to the vast
majority of readers, but the story of the man’s life, properly told,
has the perennial interest of human tragedy.
Willingness to dig for facts goes a long way toward success in
reporting.
SUNDAY MAGAZINE STORIES
The magazine section of the big Sunday newspaper is made up almost
altogether of feature stories. Usually the two outer pages of the
section are in colors, and for these pages stories are demanded that
lend themselves readily to vivid color treatment. A story unimportant
in itself may be spread over an entire page if it is adaptable to a
big, colorful illustration. Such would be a story of a new and odd
style of quadrille or round dancing or a speculative story about the
possibilities of airships. The story itself is subordinated to the
pictures. Soberer color pages may be made of the pictures of public
buildings, of a city’s skyline and the like, with a short explanatory
story.
The inside features of the Sunday magazine are seldom written in
the style of the news story. The news element merely furnishes the
suggestion, and with that as a basis the writer handles the story in
its universal application. For instance, a news item telling of the
death of a motor car driver in a race may suggest a page story about
all the drivers who have met death in a similar manner. Past events as
a rule are dealt with only as they affect present or future conditions.
Thus a news story about a rich man’s death may later be expanded into
a page article about the effect of his fortune on the living. The story
of a queer will may be the “peg” for a page of speculation about wills
in general, with all sorts of other queer wills mentioned.
The magazine section is made ready two or three weeks in advance of the
date of publication. This fact must be kept in mind by the writer to
avoid inconsistency.
SUGGESTIONS FOR HOME OR CLASS-ROOM STUDY
I. A feature story dependent for its value on an original method of
treatment. From the St. Louis _Post-Dispatch_:
There was material for a good moving picture film in the
adventure of Alec Jones, a Cape Girardeau visitor, at Union
Station Wednesday night. Jones left in such a hurry that he
failed to copyright the lively scenario he created, and anybody
who wants it can have it without royalties.
This is about the way it will be described when it gets into
the film journals:
JONES AND HIS GRIP.--Jones, from Southeast Missouri,
is waiting in Union Station to take a train which
leaves in an hour. Every time the train caller makes
an announcement, Jones thinks his train is about to
leave, and rushes for the door. Just before the first
call comes, he is sitting beside a middle-aged woman on
one of the round seats surrounding a pillar. She thinks
he is sitting too near her and moves with some show of
indignation to the other side of the pillar.
She neglects to move her big carpet bag, and in his
excitement at the train call, Jones takes the carpet
bag instead of his own satchel. He rushes up to the
train caller to ask about his train, and that official
motions him back to his seat. He sits down beside an
old man. In the meantime the middle-aged woman misses
her carpet bag, and, finding the satchel in its place,
opens it and is horrified to behold a pair of wool
socks, a flask and other masculine belongings. She
rushes around the waiting room hunting her carpet bag,
and reaches Jones just as he is aroused by another
train call.
This time he leaves her carpet bag and picks up the
heavy suit case belonging to the old man beside him.
Again Jones finds out that his train is not ready, and
retires to another seat, where a carpenter is dozing
with his kit of tools beside him. Just as the old
man, seeking his suit case and guided by the woman,
reaches him, Jones jumps up again and carries off the
carpenter’s kit, leaving the old man’s suit case in its
place. The carpenter, the old man and the woman follow
him and a policeman straightens matters out.
Sergeant Meehan of the Union Station police squad says it all
happened.
(Note the informality of the introduction. The story aims to amuse the
reader--nothing more. It is a rule of most newspapers that no story
shall end with indented matter: hence the last paragraph. The headlines
are in keeping with the spirit of the story: “What Happened to Jones?
Well, Here’s the Yarn--Being the Comedy of Alec From Cape Girardeau and
His Various Valises.”)
II. A feature story in subject matter and treatment. From the Kansas
City _Star_:
“Eyes made while you wait” is not the sign on the door, but it
might be, for that is the way they do it. Artificial eyes are
being made to order in Independence, and it takes only about
a half-hour to send a customer out with a “made eye” that
scarcely can be distinguished from his natural one.
The laboratory is in a little room on the third floor of the
Metropolitan Hotel.
The work is being done in Independence because manufactured gas
is available for fuel there. Natural gas is not rich enough,
and will not stand the heavy pressure that is necessary in
making artificial eyes. From a connection with the city gas
pipes, Mr. Kohler passes the gas through a little blowpipe
equipped with an apparatus for producing extreme heat.
“Thousands of artificial eyes are kept in stock,” said Mr.
Merry, “but there is an advantage in making the eye to order.
The slightest peculiarity in size, shape or color in the
natural eye can be reproduced exactly in the artificial one.”
The foundation of the process of manufacture is a glass tube
about three-fourths of an inch in diameter. The tubes vary
slightly in color and in quality. Under the blowpipe a small
portion of a tube is melted off and shaped into an eye. The
color is put in by very delicate processes, and even any
abnormal peculiarity of the natural eye is reproduced.
A young man was “sitting for an eye” this morning when a
visitor called. Kohler, glancing alternately from the natural
eye of the customer to the blowpipe and back again, quickly
modeled an eye to fill that particular need.
“In many cases they have more than one eye made while they
are at it,” said Mr. Merry. “Unless handled very carefully,
the eyes are easily broken, either by falling or from sudden
changes of temperature. Some persons are so careless with their
glass eyes--they roll them around as though they were marbles.
We had one customer in Kansas City who had twenty-four eyes
made a year ago, and who already has broken five of them. But
that is not the fault of the maker of the eyes.”
(Enough of the story is given here to indicate the method. Tell one
thing that has been omitted. Note the absence of technical terms. The
writer tells the things about the making of glass eyes that interested
him and hence are most likely to interest the general reader. A
technical description of the process would fall flat as a newspaper
story. The lead--“eyes made while you wait”--piques the reader’s
curiosity.)
III. A human-interest story told simply and in good taste. From the New
York _World_:
Flowers, the smiles of his fiancée and the commendation of his
superiors went with Patrolman George A. Pattison when he limped
out of New York Hospital last night on crutches and with one
leg gone.
Just two weeks ago Pattison lay on the sidewalk at Forty-second
street and Fifth avenue, one leg badly crushed by a surface
car, and smiled up at Deputy Commissioner Driscoll when that
man patted his shoulder and said, “Too bad!”
“It’s all right, Commissioner,” said Pattison. “We must expect
such things in our business.”
When they heard he was to leave the hospital yesterday his
comrades in the West Thirtieth Station determined he should
see there were other things in “our business” and that “our
business” wasn’t entirely the suppression of emotion.
So last night the men of the Tenderloin Station made up a
purse. Some of it was set aside to pay for a taxicab for
the long trip from the hospital to the policeman’s home in
New Brighton, Staten Island, and the rest went to Broadway
florists. Inspector George McClusky and Captain Samuel McElroy
rode in the flower-filled cab to the hospital. There they were
met by Miss Mary Lynch, who will be married to the policeman as
soon as he is fully recovered.
She led them to Pattison and they told him everybody in the
department knew he was a man and that Miss Lynch would never
regret her marriage to him. And he needn’t worry about his
future, for his pay would be the same, though he would be a
clerk at Headquarters when he was able to go to work again.
There were tears in Pattison’s eyes as he tried to thank
everybody for the good feeling displayed. Then he was helped
down the stairs. When he found the taxicab was almost filled
with flowers he didn’t trust himself to speak, but wrung the
hands of his friends.
Then, with his fiancée among the flowers, he started for his
mother’s home, while inspector and captain waved their caps.
IV. Write a feature story of not more than 1,000 words, on any topic
that you believe people would like to read about. The following
are given as suggestive of the possibilities of a small town: The
oldest house in town; how the streets were named; an interview with
the railroad station agent on the people he meets; if a college
town, a story of the students who earn their own expenses; organized
charities--get the human side; hunters’ licenses--number--revenue
from--women hunters, if any--possibly talks with some of the hunters;
birth rate for a given period compared with the death rate; marriage
licenses--minors who have been married--the favorite month for
weddings; collections of antiquities; recent improvements, such as
street paving; condition of the city jail; the oldest man; the oldest
woman; persons in town above the age of 90; women’s clubs; the public
schools--how the attendance compares with that of previous years--talks
with the superintendent and teachers on their work and plans; former
citizens who have become famous; the moving picture shows--how many
attend daily--talks with the show managers about the growth of the
moving picture business; any unusual industry, such as the making of
corn-cob pipes; number of automobiles in town--condition of the country
roads--farmers who own automobiles; the public library--what books are
most read--effect of the seasons on the number and character of the
books read; the post office--amount of stamp sales--odd addresses on
letters--hardships of rural route carriers. The list might be extended
indefinitely.