Edward Bok had not been office boy long before he realized that if he
learned shorthand he would stand a better chance for advancement. So he
joined the Young Men's Christian Association in Brooklyn, and entered
the class in stenography. But as this class met only twice a week,
Edward, impatient to learn the art of "pothooks" as quickly as possible,
supplemented this instruction by a course given on two other evenings at
moderate cost by a Brooklyn business college. As the system taught in
both classes was the same, more rapid progress was possible, and the two
teachers were constantly surprised that he acquired the art so much more
quickly than the other students.
Before many weeks Edward could "stenograph" fairly well, and as the
typewriter had not then come into its own, he was ready to put his
knowledge to practical use.
An opportunity offered itself when the city editor of the Brooklyn Eagle
asked him to report two speeches at a New England Society dinner. The
speakers were to be the President of the United States, General Grant,
General Sherman, Mr. Evarts, and General Sheridan. Edward was to report
what General Grant and the President said, and was instructed to give
the President's speech verbatim.
At the close of the dinner, the reporters came in and Edward was seated
directly in front of the President. In those days when a public dinner
included several kinds of wine, it was the custom to serve the reporters
with wine, and as the glasses were placed before Edward's plate he
realized that he had to make a decision then and there. He had, of
course, constantly seen wine on his father's table, as is the European
custom, but the boy had never tasted it. He decided he would not begin
then, when he needed a clear head. So, in order to get more room for his
note-book, he asked the waiter to remove the glasses.
It was the first time he had ever attempted to report a public address.
General Grant's remarks were few, as usual, and as he spoke slowly, he
gave the young reporter no trouble. But alas for his stenographic
knowledge, when President Hayes began to speak! Edward worked hard, but
the President was too rapid for him; he did not get the speech, and he
noticed that the reporters for the other papers fared no better. Nothing
daunted, however, after the speechmaking, Edward resolutely sought the
President, and as the latter turned to him, he told him his plight,
explained it was his first important "assignment," and asked if he could
possibly be given a copy of the speech so that he could "beat" the other
papers.
The President looked at him curiously for a moment, and then said: "Can
you wait a few minutes?"
Edward assured him that he could.
After fifteen minutes or so the President came up to where the boy was
waiting, and said abruptly:
"Tell me, my boy, why did you have the wine-glasses removed from your
place?"
Edward was completely taken aback at the question, but he explained his
resolution as well as he could.
"Did you make that decision this evening?" the President asked.
He had.
"What is your name?" the President next inquired.
He was told.
"And you live, where?"
Edward told him.
"Suppose you write your name and address on this card for me," said the
President, reaching for one of the place-cards on the table.
The boy did so.
"Now, I am stopping with Mr. A. A. Low, on Columbia Heights. Is that in
the direction of your home?"
It was.
"Suppose you go with me, then, in my carriage," said the President, "and
I will give you my speech."
Edward was not quite sure now whether he was on his head or his feet.
As he drove along with the President and his host, the President asked
the boy about himself, what he was doing, etc. On arriving at Mr. Low's
house, the President went up-stairs, and in a few moments came down with
his speech in full, written in his own hand. Edward assured him he would
copy it, and return the manuscript in the morning.
The President took out his watch. It was then after midnight. Musing a
moment, he said: "You say you are an office boy; what time must you be
at your office?"
"Half past eight, sir."
"Well, good night," he said, and then, as if it were a second thought:
"By the way, I can get another copy of the speech. Just turn that in as
it is, if they can read it."
Afterward, Edward found out that, as a matter of fact, it was the
President's only copy. Though the boy did not then appreciate this act
of consideration, his instinct fortunately led him to copy the speech
and leave the original at the President's stopping-place in the morning.
And for all his trouble, the young reporter was amply repaid by seeing
that The Eagle was the only paper which had a verbatim report of the
President's speech.
But the day was not yet done!
That evening, upon reaching home, what was the boy's astonishment to
find the following note: