MY EXPERIENCE WITH REPORTERS AND NEWSPAPERS
I have learned much from reporters and newspapers. Seldom do I go into
any city, or even step out on the platform between trains, but that it
seems to me some newspaper reporter finds me. I used to be surprised at
the unexpected places in which these representatives of the press would
turn up, and still more surprised and sometimes embarrassed by the
questions they would ask me. It seemed to me that, if there was any
particular thing that I happened to know and did not feel at liberty to
talk about, that would be the precise thing that the reporter who met me
wanted to question me about. In such cases, too, the reporter usually
got the information he wanted, or, if he didn’t, I was sorry afterward,
because if the actual facts had been published they would have done less
damage than the half truths which he did get hold of.
I confess that when I was less experienced I used to dread reporters.
For a long time I used to look upon a reporter as a kind of professional
pry, a sort of social mischief-maker, who was constantly trying to find
out something that would make trouble. The consequence was that when I
met reporters I was likely to find myself laying plans to circumvent
them and keep them in the dark in regard to my purposes and business.
A wide acquaintance with newspapers and newspaper men has completely
changed my attitude toward them. In the first place I have discovered
that reporters usually ask just the questions that the average man in
the community in which the newspapers are located would ask if he had
the courage to do so. The only difference is that the reporter comes out
squarely and plumply and asks you the question that another person would
ask indirectly of some one else.
For my part, I have found it both interesting and important to know what
sort of questions the average man in the community was asking, for
example about the progress of the Negro, or about my work. The sort of
questions the reporters in the different parts of the country ask
indicate pretty clearly, not only what the people in the community know
about my work, but they tell me a great deal, also, about the feeling of
the average man toward the members of my race in that community and
toward the Negro generally. Not only do the newspaper reporters keep me
informed, in the way I have described, in regard to a great many things
I want to know, but frequently, by the questions that they ask, they
enable me to correct false impressions and to give information which it
seems important the public should have, in regard to the condition and
progress of the Negro.
One other consideration has changed my attitude toward the reporters. As
I have become better acquainted with newspapers I have come to
understand the manner and extent to which they represent the interests
and habits of thought of the people who read and support them. Any man
who is engaged in any sort of work that makes constant demands upon the
good-will and confidence of the public knows that it is important that
he should have an opportunity to reach this public directly and to
answer just the sort of questions the newspapers ask of him. As I have
said, these inquiries represent the natural inquiries of the average
man. If the newspaper did not ask and answer these questions, they would
remain unanswered, or the public would get the information it wanted
from some more indirect and less reliable source.
Several times, during the years that I have been at Tuskegee, a
representative from some Southern paper or magazine has come to me to
inquire in regard to some rumour or report that has got abroad in regard
to conditions inside our school. In such cases I have simply told the
reporter to take as much time as he chose and make as thorough an
examination of the school and everything about it as he cared to. At the
same time, I have assured him that he was perfectly free to ask any
questions on any subject, of any person that he met on the grounds. In
other words, I have given him every opportunity to go as far as he
wanted, and to make his investigation as thorough as he desired.
Of course, in every institution as large as ours, there is abundant
opportunity for a malicious or ill-disposed person to make injurious
criticism, or to interpret what he learns in a way that would injure the
institution. But in every such case, instead of printing anything
derogatory to the school, the newspaper investigation has proved the
most valuable sort of advertisement, and the rumours that had been
floating about have been silenced. There is no means so effectual in
putting an end to gossip as a newspaper investigation and report. On the
other hand, I have found that there is no way of so quickly securing the
good-will of a newspaper reporter as by showing him that you have
nothing to conceal.
Frequently I have heard people criticise the newspapers because they
print and give currency to so much that is merely trivial; in other
words, what we commonly speak of as gossip. What I know of the
newspapers convinces me that they do not print one tenth of the reports
that are sent in to them, and that a large part of the time of every
newspaper man is spent in running down and proving the falsity of
stories and rumours that have gained currency in the community as a
result of the natural disposition of mankind to accept and believe any
kind of statement that is sufficiently circumstantial and interesting.
My own experience leads me to believe that if the newspaper performed no
other service for the community but that of rooting out of the public
mind the malice and prejudice that rest upon misinformation and gossip,
it would justify its existence in this way alone.
In saying this, I do not overlook the fact that daily papers are
responsible for giving currency to many statements that are false and
misleading: that too frequently the emphasis is placed upon the things
that are merely exciting, while important matters—or, at least, matters
that seem important to some of us who are on the outside—are passed over
in silence. To a very large extent the daily newspapers have merely
taken up the work that was formerly performed by the village gossip, or
by the men who sat around in the village store, talked politics, and
made public opinion. The newspaper, however, does that work on a higher
plane. It gives us a world-wide outlook, and it makes a commendable
effort to get the truth. Even if, like the village gossip, it puts the
emphasis sometimes on the wrong things and spends a lot of time over
personal and unimportant matters, it at least brings all classes of
people together in doing so. People who read the same newspaper are
bound to feel neighbourly, even though they may never meet one another,
even though they live thousands of miles apart.
I have learned much from newspapers and from newspaper men. I think I
have met all kinds of newspaper reporters, not only those who work on
the conservative, but also those on the so-called “yellow” journals, and
what I have seen of them convinces me that no class of men in the
community work harder or more faithfully to perform the difficult tasks
to which they are assigned or, considering all the circumstances,
perform their work better. I confess that I have grown to the point
where I always like to meet and talk with newspaper men, because they
know the world, they know what is going on, and they know men. I have
frequently been amazed, in talking with newspaper men, to learn the
amount of accurate, intimate, and inside information that they had about
public and even private matters, and at the insight they showed in
weighing and judging public men and their actions.
One thing that has interested me in this connection has been the
discovery that practically every large newspaper in the country has in
its office a vast array of facts which, out of charity for the
individuals concerned or because some public interest would be injured
by their publication, never get into print. I am convinced that much
more frequently than is supposed newspaper men show their interest in
individuals and in the public welfare by what they withhold from
publication rather than by what they actually do print. Considering
that, under the conditions in which modern newspapers are conducted, any
fact which would interest and excite the community has become a kind of
commodity which it is the business of the newspaper to gather up and
sell, it is surprising that these publications are as discriminating and
as considerate as they are.
It seems to me, also, that there has been a noticeable improvement, in
recent years, in the method of getting and preparing newspaper reports.
I am not sure whether this is due more to the improvement in the class
of men who represent the papers or whether it is due to a better
understanding on the part of the public as to the methods of dealing
with reporters; to a more definite recognition on the part of both the
public and the newspapers of the responsible position which the modern
newspaper occupies in the complex organization of modern social life.
Both private individuals and public men seem to have recognized the fact
that, in a country where the life of every individual touches so closely
the life of every other, it is in the interest of all that each should
work, as it were, in the open, where all the world may know and
understand what he is doing.
On the other hand, newspapers have discovered that the only
justification for putting any fact in a newspaper is that publication
will serve some sort of public interest, and that, in the long run, the
value of a piece of news and the reputation of a newspaper that prints
it depend upon the absolute accuracy and trustworthiness of its reports.
I have learned something about newspapers and newspaper men from my own
experience with them, but I have learned much, also, from the manner in
which some of the best known men in this country have been accustomed to
deal with them.
On several occasions when I was at the White House, during the time that
Colonel Roosevelt was President, I saw him surrounded by half a dozen
reporters—representing great daily papers. I was greatly surprised on
those occasions to observe that the President would talk to these
reporters just as frankly and freely about matters pertaining to the
government, and his plans and policies, as one partner in business would
talk to another partner. While these men, as a result of the interview,
would telegraph long despatches to their papers, I am sure I am safe in
saying that the President’s confidence was rarely, if ever, betrayed.
It was largely through such frank interviews, taking the whole country
into his confidence, as it were, that President Roosevelt was able, in
so large a degree, to carry the whole country along with him. Ever since
I have known Colonel Roosevelt, one of the things that I have observed
in his career has been his ability and disposition to keep in close
personal touch with the brightest newspaper men and magazine writers of
the country. The newspaper men like him because he understands the
conditions under which they work and at the same time recognizes the
important part that they and their reports play in the actual, if not in
the official, government in a democratic country like ours.
Another noted man whom it has been my privilege to see a good deal of,
in connection with newspapers, is Mr. Andrew Carnegie. Not long ago I
heard the question asked why it was that, while so many rich men were
unpopular, Andrew Carnegie held the love and respect of the common
people. From what I have seen of Mr. Carnegie I ascribe a good deal of
his popularity to the candour and good sense with which he deals with
reporters and newspapers. Mr. Carnegie has something of Mr. Roosevelt’s
disposition to take reporters into his confidence. Both Colonel
Roosevelt and Mr. Carnegie have known how to use newspapers as a means
of letting the world know what they are doing and, in both cases, I
believe that the popularity of these men is due, in very large part, to
their ability to get into a sort of personal touch with the masses of
the people through the newspapers.
In saying this I do not mean that either Colonel Roosevelt or Mr.
Carnegie has made use of the newspapers merely for the sake of
increasing their personal popularity. The man who is known, and has the
confidence of the public, can, if he does not allow himself to be fooled
by his own popularity, accomplish a great deal more, perform a much
greater public service, than the man whose name is unknown.
In the case of both Colonel Roosevelt and Mr. Carnegie, the names of
private individuals have, in each case, become associated in the public
mind with certain large public interests. They have come to be, in a
very real sense, public men because they have embodied in their persons
and their lives certain important public interests. Although, so far as
I know, he has never held public office of any kind, Mr. Carnegie is
nevertheless a public man. Mr. Roosevelt has not ceased to be identified
with certain important public interests; nor has he lost, to any great
extent, political power because he is no longer President of the United
States. The power which these men exercise upon the minds and hearts of
the masses of their fellow countrymen is largely due to the fact that
they were able to make the acquaintance of the public through the
newspapers.
I have always counted it a great privilege that my name became
associated, comparatively early in my life, with what has always seemed
to me a great and important public interest, namely, a form of education
which seems to me best suited to fit a recently enfranchised race for
the duties and responsibilities of citizenship in a republic. The fact
that I have been compelled to raise the larger part of the money for
establishing this kind of education by direct appeals to the public has
made my name pretty generally known. I am glad that this is true, for
through the medium of the newspapers I have been able to get in touch
with many hundreds and thousands of persons that I would never have been
able to reach with my voice. All this has multiplied my powers for
service a hundredfold.
Of course it is just as true that a man who has become well known and
gained the confidence of the public through the medium of the press can
use that power for purely selfish purposes, if he chooses, as that he
can use it for the public welfare. I have no doubt that nearly every man
who has in any way gained the confidence of the public has every year
many opportunities for turning his popularity to private account.
Several times in the course of a year, for example, some one makes me a
present of shares of stock in some new concern, and, on several
occasions, I have had deeds of lots in some land scheme or new town
presented to me. I have made it a rule to promptly return every gift of
that kind, first of all for the good business reason that it would not
pay me to have my name connected with any enterprise, no matter how
legitimate it might be, for which I could not be personally responsible,
and the use of my name, under such circumstances, so far as it
influenced any one to invest in the scheme, would be a fraud.
A second reason is my desire to keep faith with the public, if I may so
express it. In order to do that, I have never been able to see how I
could afford to give any of my time or attention to any enterprise or
any kind of work that did not have to do specifically and directly with
the work of Negro education, in the broad spirit in which I have
interpreted it.
I have already said that, in my early experience with newspaper
reporters, I used to think it was necessary to be very careful in
letting them know what my ambitions and aims in regard to my work were.
But I have learned that it is pretty hard to keep anything from the
newspapers that the newspapers think the public wants to know. As a
result of what I have learned I try to be perfectly frank with newspaper
men. For some years I have made it my custom to talk with them
concerning all my plans and everything of a public nature in which I am
interested. I talk with them just the same as I would with one of my
friends or business acquaintances. When a reporter comes to interview me
I tell him what I wish he might publish, and what I wish he would not
publish. Frequently I have discovered that the newspaper man understood
better than I how to state things in a way that should give the right
impression to the public. This seems to be especially true of the
Washington correspondents of the great dailies, who, considering the
many important matters which they have to handle, exercise, it seems to
me, a remarkable discretion as to what should, and should not, be
printed.
Let me give an illustration: When Colonel Roosevelt was President, he
invited me to come to the White House to read over an important part of
one of his annual messages to Congress. The passage of his message in
regard to which he consulted me referred to a subject upon which there
was great interest at that time, and the newspaper reporters in
Washington, and especially those on duty at the White House, had some
inkling as to the subject that the President wished to discuss with me.
I was with the President for a considerable time. When I came out of the
President’s office I was at once surrounded by half a dozen newspaper
men who wished me to tell them, in detail, just what I had discussed
with the President. After some hesitation I made up my mind to try the
experiment of being perfectly frank with them. I gave them an outline of
what was in the message and went into some detail in regard to our
discussion of it. After I had given them the facts, I said to them:
“Now, gentlemen, do you think that this is a subject that I ought to
give out to the public at this time through the newspapers?”
Each one of them promptly replied that he did not think it was a matter
that I ought to give out to the public. The result was that the next day
not a single newspaper represented in this conversation had a line
concerning the matter which had called me to the White House. This is an
example of an experience which I have frequently had in dealing with
reporters. If I had tried to hide something from them, or to deceive
them, I suspect that some garbled report or misstatement of the facts
would have been given to the public in regard to the matter.
There is always a question with me, and I presume there is with most
public speakers, as to what is the best form of preparing and delivering
a public address, and of getting the gist of it correctly and properly
reported through the newspapers. When I first began speaking in public I
used to follow the plan to a great extent of committing speeches to
memory. This plan, however, I soon gave up. At present I do not commit
speeches to memory, except on very important occasions, or when I am to
speak on an entirely new subject.
The plan of writing out one’s speech and reading it has its advantages,
but it also has its disadvantages. A written speech is apt to sound
stiff and formal; besides, if one depends upon a manuscript, he will not
be able to adapt himself to the occasion. Writing out a speech, however,
has the advantage of enabling one to give out something to the
newspapers that will be absolutely accurate.
After trying both the plan of committing to memory and of writing out my
addresses, I have struck upon a compromise which I find, in my case,
answers the purpose pretty well. The plan which I now follow is this: I
think out what I want to say pretty carefully. After having done that, I
write head lines, or little suggestions that will call my attention to
the points that I wish to make in covering my speech. After having
thought out the general line of my speech, and then having prepared my
head lines, I have for a number of years been accustomed to dictate my
speech to a stenographer. By long practice, I have found that, after
dictating my speech, I can take my head lines or memorandum sheet and
follow the dictation almost exactly when I deliver my address. I give
out all or a portion of the dictated address to the newspapers in
advance. This the reporters consider an accommodation to them. It
insures accuracy and at the same time leaves me free while speaking to
throw aside the stiffness and formality that would naturally be
necessary in reading an address or in delivering an address that had
been committed to memory, and to take advantage of any local interests
that would give a more lively colour to what I have to say.
Another disadvantage of a written address, or of one committed to
memory, is that it is difficult to adapt it to the interests of the
immediate audience. To me, talking to an audience is like talking to an
individual. Each audience has a personality of its own, and one can no
more find two audiences that are exactly alike than he can find two
individuals that are exactly alike. The speaker who fails to adapt
himself to the conditions, surroundings, and general atmosphere of his
audience in a large degree fails, I think, as a speaker. I have found
that the best plan is, as I have stated, to study one’s subject through
and through, to saturate himself with it so that he is master of every
detail, and then use head lines as a memorandum.
One of the questions which I suppose, every man who deals with the
public has to meet sooner or later is how to deal with a false newspaper
report. I have made it a rule never to deny a false report, except under
very exceptional circumstances. In nine cases out of ten the denying of
the report simply calls attention to the original statement in a way to
magnify it. Many people who did not see the original false report will
see the denial and will then begin to search for the original report to
find out what it was. And then, unfortunately, there are always some
newspapers that will spread a report that is not justified by facts, for
the purpose of securing a denial or of exciting a discussion. My
experience is that it always gives a certain dignity and standing to a
slander or a falsehood to deny it. Every one likes a fight, and a
controversy will frequently lend a fictitious interest and importance to
comparatively trivial circumstances.
During a long period of years in dealing with the public I have been
deceived only once in recent years by a newspaper reporter. This was the
case of a man on a New York paper who got aboard a train with me, took a
seat by my side, and began the discussion of a question which was much
before the public at that time. He gave me the impression that he was a
man engaged in business and was only incidentally interested in the
subject under discussion. I talked with him pretty freely and frankly,
as I would with any gentleman. My suspicions were not aroused until I
noticed that suddenly and unceremoniously he left the train at a way
station. I at once made up my mind that I had been talking, not to an
individual, but to the public. The next morning a long report of this
interview appeared in his paper. I at once informed the managing editor
of what had occurred.
I am not sure that anything definite came of my letter, but I believe
that one way to improve the methods of the newspapers in dealing with
individuals is to protest when you think you have been badly treated.
The important thing, it seems to me, about the newspaper is that it
represents the interest and reflects the opinions and intelligence of
the average man in the community where the paper is published. The local
press reflects the local prejudice. Its failings are the common human
failings. Its faults are the faults of the average man in the community,
and on the whole it seems to me best that it should be so. If the
newspapers were not a reflex of the minds of their readers, they would
not be as interesting or as valuable as they are. We should not know the
people about us as well as we do. As long as the newspaper exists we not
only have a means of understanding how the average man thinks and feels,
but we have a medium for reaching and influencing him. People who
profess to have no respect for the newspapers as a rule, I fear, have
very little understanding or respect for the average man.
The real trouble with the newspapers is that while they frequently
exhibit the average man at his worst, they rarely show him at his best.
In order to read the best about the average man we must still go to
books or to magazines. The newspaper has the advantage that it touches
real things and real persons, but it touches them only on the surface.
For that reason I have found it safe never to give too much weight to
what a newspaper says about a man either good or bad.
Nevertheless I have learned more from newspapers than I have from books.
In fact, aside from what I have learned from actual contact with men and
with things, I believe I have gained the greatest part of my education
from newspapers. I am sure this is so if I include among the newspapers
those magazines which deal with current topics. Certainly I have been
stimulated in all my thinking more by news than I have by the general
statements I have met in books. In this, as in other matters, I like to
deal at first-hand with the raw material and this I find in the
newspapers more than in books.
Frequently I have heard persons speak of the newspaper as if its only
purpose in making its reports was to tear down rather than build up. It
is certainly true that newspapers are rather ruthless in the way in
which they seem to bring every man, particularly every public man, to
the bar of public opinion and make him explain and justify his work.
Nevertheless it is important that every man who is in any way engaged,
directly or indirectly, in performing any kind of public service should
never be permitted to forget that the only title to place or privilege
that any man enjoys in the community is ultimately based on the service
that he performs. I believe that any man, public or private, who meets
newspaper men and deals with the newspaper in that spirit will find
himself helped immensely in his work by the press rather than injured.
For my own part I feel sure that I owe much of such success as I have
been able to achieve to the sympathy and interest which the newspaper
press, North and South, has shown in the work that I have been trying to
do. Largely through the medium of the newspapers I have been able to
come into contact with the larger public outside of my community and the
circle of my immediate friends and, by this means, to make the school at
Tuskegee, not merely a private philanthropy, but in the truest sense of
that word a public institution, supported by the public and conducted
not in the interest of any one race or section, merely, but in the
interest of the whole country.