Title: Hints on news reporting
Author: Murray Sheehan
Editor: E. Haldeman-Julius
Release date: December 4, 2025 [eBook #77396]
Language: English
Original publication: Girard: Haldeman-Julius Company, 1922
Credits: Carol Brown, Tim Miller and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Books project.)
TEN CENT POCKET SERIES NO. 342
Edited by E. Haldeman-Julius
Murray Sheehan
HALDEMAN-JULIUS COMPANY
GIRARD, KANSAS
Copyright, 1922,
Haldeman-Julius Company
“To be explicit, easy, free, and very plain,” was the ideal set down for himself by Daniel Defoe in his news-writing more than two hundred years ago. And despite its age the advice could hardly be bettered for a newspaper man of today. For after all, what a modern reader of the news-column wants is a detailed account of some happening, written in such a style that it can be easily and rapidly read without thought to its grammar or construction, and can be easily understood throughout. That Defoe was master of such a style in his own writing will be granted by anyone who has read his “Robinson Crusoe”—and who has not!—a style which can be understood by a child of seven or eight and yet which gives delight to grown-ups. No wonder he was one of the most popular journalists of his own time.
When a man buys a newspaper on a street corner, what he wants is manifestly a paper that will give him the news in an easily read account. “News,” for him, may be something far different from what you or I would call by that name, and perhaps he picks out a paper which would furnish me with very little news indeed, very little, that is, of the world’s current happenings which would interest me. He may be devotedly concerned with the latest prices of dress-goods and men’s clothing, or the most recent gossip from the ring-side, whereas it may be that for me neither of these subjects contains the slightest interest. Perhaps when you approach a news-stand, what your eye naturally goes looking for is a sheet that gives much space to stock quotations or political news or notes on recent books. What Mrs. Brown always wants is a certain newspaper that devotes columns to the naming of prominent people who have dined or danced, and to the detailed description of the clothes they wore. Miss Black buys a certain evening paper because the back page always has a lot of interesting little stories drawn from daily life in the streets about her, little things that do not amount to much in themselves but are written up in an interesting way. And the fact that thousands and even millions of other Americans are interested in the same things as the individuals I have mentioned, has made American newspapers what they are, for better or worse. It has made them, that is, a sort of glorified crazy-quilt of the varied interests of their readers, with the individual news-patches all worked out in a style which is at once detailed, loose, free, and very easily comprehended.
The central key, then, to the problem of why we have so many newspapers in New York, for instance, and why tens of thousands buy this paper and other tens of thousands buy that one, is, of course, simply one of interest. One man buys the “Times” regularly because he knows that in it he will find the particular type of news that he is interested in, and that it will be treated in a manner which brings out most forcefully that interest. Another man will want only the Brooklyn “Eagle,” as it will do the same for him. Another will choose the “American,” and so on.
And the central key to all news-writing, one might say, is simply this same matter of interest. If news is something in timely happenings which interests the people, then news-writing is perhaps best defined as the method of presenting the facts of current happenings in an interesting manner. News-writing is, or should be, one form of being interesting.
When a man picks up his newspaper he wants, as we said before, the news. For that reason we have, in American newspapers particularly, developed the headline to a high efficiency in advertising the contents of the paper. This side of the question does not concern us here, however, as headlines are ordinarily not written by the reporter at all, but by specially trained men on the copy-desk. We are interested only in the technique of the news-story proper.
Now when we sit down with a novel or a short story, what many want is suspense. We do not want to know what the end will be. We want that to come to us as a perfect surprise, and the more perfect our wonder at the end of the tale, the better we feel it is. We like to be kept guessing about the outcome of the narrative. If we can predict it we generally call the writer a failure.
The beginning of a news-story is diametrically opposed to this procedure. What a man wants when he begins to read a news-story is not suspense, but news. He is interested in the news, and he wants it given to him as soon and as quickly as possible. He wants to be as fully informed of the news in as short a time as possible, with all the essential facts at the beginning. Then if he wants to go on with the story he is at liberty to do so. If he is interested in the minor details he can continue down the column. But what he wants at the very beginning of his story is the main facts, and this is responsible for what we call in America the “lead of the story.”
The lead of a news-story is really very simple in its construction, as far as the main outlines are concerned. In actual daily practice you will find that the working out of the same principles results in an infinity of effects. But fully ninety-five per cent of the stories in American newspapers are begun on the same principle, that of the “straight news lead.”
For the basis of any news-story will, upon analysis, always turn out to be that somebody or something has done something or is now doing something, or is going to do something. Either Mrs. Smith has just died, or Mr. Williams is now building an addition on his store, or the Red Men will tomorrow stage a monster parade. Fox’s mill burned down last night, or plans are now going forward for the new freight depot, or the janitors’ strike begins tomorrow. WHO did WHAT can be set down as the first two elements which will certainly go to make up the “lead,” as without them there would be no news at all. In this connection, also, we always give ample identification, so there can be no mistake as to WHO is meant, which John Jones it is. If necessary we give his age, address, profession, etc., so that in a large city he can be identified.
But readers of newspapers are also interested in the locality in which the action took place, and in the time at which it occurred. If John Jones killed his wife, they want to know where it happened and at what hour. Did he do it at home or abroad? We give the home address of the Joneses in either case, and if the murder occurred elsewhere we give that address likewise. And at what time did he do it, demand the readers, at morning, noon, or night? If lightning destroyed the chimney of the Miller factory, readers want to know when, and they like also to have given the location of the factory, so that they can check up on whether it is the Miller factory that they know, or whether it is in the vicinity where live any of their acquaintances, or near where they do business, who have thus been in danger. These two elements of time and place, the WHEN and the WHERE are considered essential to the lead of a news-story, as well as the agent and his action. So that we might say the WHO, WHAT, WHERE, and WHEN were absolute essentials to the lead. They are always included in a straight news-lead, and no story is considered complete without them.
There is one more element almost in the same category, and it is sometimes included to make what are known as the five essentials. When Mr. Jones killed his wife at their home, 14 East Ninth street, this morning, most people want to know HOW and WHY he did it. Was it with an axe or a revolver or Othello-wise with a pillow? Was he jealous or insane or did he mistake her for a burglar? When the lightning struck the Miller factory, we want to know how or why it did so. We want to know if it was the chimney or one of the new tower structures. How did it strike? What route did it follow? Was it because the mill had no lightning-rods? This element of the lead is not always included, however, unless the HOW or the WHY are especially interesting.
These five, then, can be set down as the framework of what is known as a straight news-story, and you can find the theory in practice by picking up any copy of any one of the myriad newspapers of the United States. The statement will not be true of most foreign news-sheets, as they follow a different technique altogether. This fact accounts for the “deadness” that many Americans find in English and Continental papers. They develop their news-stories in a slower fashion. But read over any ordinary edition of any American paper, and you will find that fully ninety-five percent of the stories have the five essentials at the very front tip of the account. The other five percent belong to another class of stories which will be considered later.
Variety, however, would be largely an absent quantity if all news-stories started out with a bald setting down of all five of the essentials “onetwothreefourfive, just like that,” as E. E. Cummings has said. And variety there must be. The American newspaper is in a keen competition against other newspapers and must attract its readers. It must interest them, display its news in an attractive fashion, do it better than the other fellow, display its wares in so interesting a way that people will buy here rather than from the other fellow. This is particularly applicable, of course, to cities and towns having two or more newspapers, but it is also true of the little places that have only one daily or perhaps only a weekly. In these cases, if the sheet is written in an unattractive fashion, with the news badly presented, there is great likelihood that large numbers of the people will feel that “they can get along without the paper,” and away goes the list of subscribers on the downward “path to the everlasting bonfire.” On the other hand, if the news is brightly set down, with variety and interest, there will be scores of people who will take the paper that otherwise would not, and even if they move away from the locality they will wish to continue receiving it.
What is it that must be added to the five essentials in order to liven them and give them interest and variety for the readers? The answer lies in a consideration of what it is that attracts the interest of readers, what it is that readers are interested in. And here we come back to the very first thing we talked about in considering the news-writing of American newspapers—INTEREST.
People are interested in scores of things, as you will find out if you scan the pages of a large metropolitan daily. You might almost say that there is nothing in which they are not interested, if the matter is presented to them properly. And the “properly” part of the preceding sentence is what we must now consider.
In the first place, people are interested in anything which will make a DIFFERENCE TO THEMSELVES. If I am a grown man and I see a train approaching, I am not under ordinary circumstances vitally interested. If I am on the track, however, I decidedly am interested, because that train then may perhaps make a difference to me. Or if some of my family are on that train, as I happen to know, and we have arranged to wave at this point, then also I am interested, because, again the thing makes a difference, however slight, to me. Or if I am interested in mechanics and I suddenly notice that some improvement in machinery has been built into this engine, I prick up my ears and am interested, for here is something that matters to me. Or if there is a wreck or an accident to that engine, and particularly if there are human beings injured or killed, then again I am interested, because, after all, such a thing might some day happen to me or mine, and I am thus touched in my deepest interest—my interest in myself.
Thus, if any happening in the day’s news can be shown to be vitally connected with the WELFARE of the readers, that happening will make good news, and will stir the interest of the readers. It is undoubtedly on this basis that we are all interested in political news, in questions of taxes and tariffs, civic improvements, international relations, wars, scientific discoveries, etc. We are interested in them only to the extent, generally, that they are seen to touch our daily lives, to the extent that they make a difference to us. If the Grand Lama of Thibet makes a new law about transportation in his realm, I am not interested, because it makes no difference to me, so far as I know. But if I am told that as a result of this, my wife can have silk more cheaply, or tea will be twenty-five cents dearer, I sit up and take notice, and the thing has become news indeed. Before, the thing was only a happening on the other side of the world, and touched me not. But now it has been brought into my field of concern, by touching my interests, and I am wide awake to the recent developments over there.
SPORTS are, of course, another field in which the American public shows interest, and almost any information from its activities will be given space on the sports page of the papers and be read with avidity. Even quoits or horseshoes are sometimes featured on the sports page, and the big games of baseball or football actually become sometimes the most prominent story on the first page of the paper, driving international and national news to subordinate positions and sometimes to inner pages.
HOBBIES offer another opportunity to catch the reader’s attention with matters that interest him. Chess and bridge would come under this head, I suppose. Radio and wireless, new wrinkles in diving and swimming, recent developments in crochet stitches or the making of strawberry preserves, etc., can properly be included here, perhaps, as news of all these recent developments will make real news. In the spring when tens of thousands of people will be interested in gardens, any and all information about growing things will have interest for readers, and hence will constitute, for them, news. Some papers can even, according to the nature of their subscription-list, offer recent developments of art, literature, music, architecture, etc., as news, and have it welcomed. News about new plays and motion picture plays, if they are to run for any length of time, is welcomed in the form of criticisms, pro or con, of the first night’s performance.
All the interests thus far considered have been more or less, as I said, based on our own welfare and the relation which we could see between the new occurrence and its power to influence our daily lives. Some of them have stepped over into the next division to be taken up. When the great annual Harvard-Yale football game comes off, it is looked upon as the classic game of the season. When the final series of baseball games is played, it is for the championship of the world. Even the most sluggish of imaginations will take some interest in these events, however slight their ordinary interest in these sports may be.
This brings us to interest in the PROMINENT. There is something about anybody or anything that has reached a supreme position in this world, which makes us all stop and look in that direction with interest. If the highest mountain in the world does something, we are interested. If the greatest murderer in history has fried eggs this morning for breakfast, we are interested. If the richest man in the world plays golf, we want to see pictures of him in the act. If the manufacturer of the greatest number of automobiles in the world gives a quarter to a little girl, we stop and read all about it, or gaze with interest on a photograph of the perfectly ordinary quarter lying in her quite unusual hand. When a great tenor dies, we have stories about old ladies who suddenly remember that he was their nephew. Just as a handkerchief on which Napoleon once blew his august nose is still a center of interest in the Invalides museum in Paris, so the tiniest fragment of information about the greatest this or the greatest that interests us, and thus becomes news. Big numbers impress us the same way. We seem to be carried away by good round numbers. “Thirty thousand eggs” or “Four hundred million toothpicks” seem to wield a hypnotic fascination on us because of their resounding figures, and we are interested.
On the other hand, we are interested also in people and things known only locally, or at any rate, interesting to us only because KNOWN LOCALLY. If the carpenter next door dropped his hammer on his foot and was laid up for two days, we might run a little paragraph on the occurrence in the local paper. But if he lived ten miles away and was not known locally we should hardly be interested in his accident, and the story would never appear. If Amy White takes part in a college play at the state university, we do not give a rap, unless she happens to come from our home town, in which case we are interested and the thing becomes news. If I live in St. Louis, I am interested in local drawings, which will not appear at all in Chicago papers.
There is one field, however, in which we are all interested, no matter where the thing happens. And that is the UNUSUAL. We are all wildly romantic when it comes to this matter of the out-of-the-ordinary. So much is this the case, that the life of a reporter becomes one long quest for the most unusual feature in every story he is called upon to write, as offering the best possible way of catching the interest of his readers. He lives in one long flurry of the exceptional—which perhaps is one of the causes of his astonishing grip on the secret of youth, even into his last years.
This quest of the unusual takes all possible forms. If a thousand men go up a flight of stairs successfully, they do not make news, but the thousand and first man, who trips and breaks his leg while carrying home a crutch for his wife who last week broke her leg on the very same step, makes news. He has done something out of the ordinary run of events. Ten thousand babies daily lead healthy lives in the country, and they are therefore not news. But the baby who today swallows an open safety pin and allows his mother successfully to remove it with a button hook will very likely be heralded all over the lands as news. Hosts of happenings are published daily in the papers of America which in themselves are unimportant, trivial. But because they are out of the ordinary, have the mark of the unusual on them, they are published on the front pages of otherwise sedate news-sheets. The fact may be telegraphed all over the country that such and such a farmer in some little unknown place in Kentucky chopped off the end of his thumb accidentally and a rooster ate it. Countless very high-priced linotype operators will set it into type, and other highly paid workers will put the fact on costly white paper, which will then be transported in divers expensive manners to the readers—and all because of their seemingly ineradicable interest in the new and the strange.
Still another unfailing interest is that in CHILDREN. A news-story which otherwise would amount to very little will take on new value if there is a child in it who can be written up, or “featured,” as the newspaper reporter says. A fire which ordinarily could be adequately covered in a hundred words, and which would only get a number four headline will call for three or four hundred words and will get a number two head if some man rushed back to save a child, or if a child discovered the fire.
The same way with ANIMALS. The public is interested in any animal story, wild or tame, and as in the previous story, if a cat or a canary or a dog is rescued out of a fire or gives warning to the inhabitants, the story immediately becomes for news purposes much more valuable, and the animal interest is generally played up in writing such a story. So much is this the case, that reporters in cities possessing a zoological garden can well afford to make almost a daily visit to the place. The fact that a lion cub needs a kitten for a playmate so that he won’t be lonesome, or that the beavers are building a new nest seems to wield a magic influence over readers.
The thing to do, then, upon sitting down to write a news story, is to ask yourself, “What is the most interesting thing about this story?” If the principal figure is a man or a woman very prominent in the world or extremely well-known to your readers, the problem is very likely solved immediately, since the name alone is sufficient to arouse interest and catch the reader’s attention. Otherwise, some other element of the story is taken as the most interesting, and in this connection you must remember the list of interests which has just been enumerated. Go over any copy of even a moderately well-written newspaper, and you will note the comparatively small range of interests to which reporters feel that they can safely appeal in beginning most of their stories. Of course the interest in the unusual gives an almost infinite field of adventure in writing, and the trick then becomes one of getting the strange set of circumstances most quickly and most effectively before the readers.
When it has been determined what the most interesting thing is in the story, this fact must come first, in as vivid and compact a form as possible. It is better if the main facts are gotten into the first two lines of the story, which means usually the first twelve words as a maximum. But the five essentials must also all of them be gotten into the beginning of the story, either in the first sentence or in the first paragraph, at all odds. Not only WHO did WHAT, but also WHEN and WHERE and WHY or HOW. As a matter of fact, of course, the WHY or the HOW may have been the most interesting thing about the story and will then have been “featured” at the beginning of the story. “Having sworn revenge for his dead sister, Tony Wallace yesterday shot Tom Kelly,” or “By jumping from the fourteenth floor of the Hughes Building, Charles Hight committed suicide this morning” are both of them possible beginnings to news-stories, although neither of them begins with the WHO or the WHAT. Two of the five essentials, however, are very rarely used as features in a news-story. These are the WHERE and the WHEN. It stands to reason that people are ordinarily not interested in either WHEN a thing occurred or WHERE it happened until they know what it is. Thus a news-story very rarely begins “On the corner of Third and Ludlow,” or “Late last evening,” except in very primitive newspapers or in a type of story to which reference will be made later.
It can happen that the place or the time are interesting enough in themselves to warrant their being featured. “Exactly at midnight last night the Senate voted in favor of light wines and beer,” is a feasible type of feature. So is “At Death Crossing an A. B. & C. train claimed another victim last night, raising the month’s total to eighteen.” But unless there is something extremely unusual or noteworthy about the place or the time these are not featured.
“The” and “A” are in some offices banned as opening words to a news-story, and generally if the news can be stated without starting off with these words, it is better to do so. But frequently it would be awkward to start in any other way, and in such a case there need be no hesitancy about using the words. “There are,” or “There is,” on the other hand, are hardly ever excusable in opening a news-story. They use up valuable space and valuable time and only retard the statement of the vital facts which constitute the news.
Figures are never used to start off the lead nor are they ever used at the beginning of any sentence in the story. Either some such word as “About” or “Exactly” is used, or the number is written out in words.
“Another” is obviously a bad word, generally, with which to open a news-story. What the people want is news, and ordinarily “another” weakens this sense of the novel. In case of a series of fires or murders or fatal accidents, however, the word may have a power of adding to the forcefulness of the news, and so its use here would be good.
There is another type of story, which is built on a totally different principle from what we have been considering. Its main characteristic in starting out is that it does NOT give the five essentials, and that it does not give first the most interesting fact of the story. Manifestly it is not, then, a straight news story. People are not going to read it for the important news that it contains. Because it plays up some story which otherwise would hardly get into the papers at all, or could only be given a very minor treatment and stuck off in some odd corner of the paper, it is known in newspaper offices as a “feature story.” It plays up some feature of an incident. It takes some small happening of the day and gives it a treatment not unlike what we find in short stories. And just as magazine fiction can use any one of a million different openings, so there is no set rule for beginning a newspaper “feature story.” We are setting out not to inform the reader, but to give him pleasure of an artistic sort. It may be a pathetic little story we have to tell, and it may sound odd to say that we set out to give pleasure with it. But an artistic pleasure can, of course, be gained from the deepest tragedy. So it is with the pathetic feature story. Although, as a matter of fact, most feature stories are humorous rather than pathetic.
Say that a reporter in going along the street overhears a little girl playing school with her dolls. The youngster, not over six or seven, uses some terms drawn from psycho-analysis. The reporter stops, judiciously makes friends with her, gets her name, finds out where she goes to school, and if possible ascertains where she got hold of the big words. Of course, this story would not appeal to the average reader of the average newspaper. It obviously has no straight news value. And yet, properly handled, it would make a capital feature story for some better types of newspapers.
Just as the former story would appeal to the child interest which was mentioned earlier, so animal stories also make a good basis for feature treatment. I have seen used an account of a dog who showed his delight over being shorn of his heavy coat one hot June morning, and the contrast with his dejection that evening, owing to the fact that he had got a good heavy case of sunburn. Births of animals at the zoological park can be treated in this way. Signs of intelligence in wild or domestic animals are often treated in this fashion. The first birds in the spring or a flight of wild ducks over a big city can be used. Signs of intelligence or emotions in animals also make good feature stories.
All the interests mentioned earlier can, as a matter of fact, be appealed to in this manner. Prominent men can be used. Stories about them which are too insignificant for actual news treatment can be utilized in this way. When the police-judge is suddenly called upon to judge his own cook on a charge of drunkenness, the story has more value as a feature than as straight news. When a well-known traffic cop is fined on the same charge as the motor cyclist he had just arrested—that of having glaring headlights—the story warrants more than a straight news-lead.
Sports, hobbies, contests of all kinds, can all be drawn on for feature stories. Frequently this type of story is used to bring out the fact that we are all of us just human beings after all, liable to make mistakes, with our little human frailties, ambitions, and prides. “Human-interest stories” is the designation given to this sort of story. Kindly, whimsical, this type of story helps frequently, in the hands of a good writer, to set the tone of a city, just as editorials do. The personality of a newspaper or a reporter can shine out here as nowhere else, perhaps, and editors are always delighted when they can find such a writer.
In all news-writing, the main thing is that it shall be easily read, easily understood, and generally, one should come away from a news-story without any remembrance of how it was written, the thing should seem so simply done, so obviously constructed. The art that hides itself is nowhere more needed than in this field where the artist is a man at a typewriter pounding out sheet after sheet of copy, with no time to linger over the choice of words or go back for careful revision. The newspaper writer must have at his instant command all the capabilities and powers within him. That is the reason why it is really useless to talk at great length to a man who will, after all, have no time for meditation on matters of style, on niceties of rhetoric. The newspaper reporter is usually working under stress of great hurry and often under keen excitement and for long stretches of time such as would fray the nerves of any other type of writer or worker. He must get certain principles—or “hints,” if you will,—into the back of his head, where they will guide his work without too much burdening him, and then forget everything but the main essentials. It is the purpose of this section to give some of these bare essentials to good news writing.
Beginning with the simplest element of language, WORDS, it may be said immediately that aside from archaic terminology and words which are dubbed “poetic” by the dictionary, the whole wide field of the English vocabulary lies open to the newspaper writer, and no man need try “writing down to his public.” Good writing in any field means being clear and vivid and forceful, and these same three terms apply here as elsewhere. A newspaper account should be written in such language that if it is read aloud it will immediately be clear what the writer means. If ever, in your writing, you come to a place where the conditions are complex and will not straighten themselves out for you readily, so that it seems impossible to state them clearly and vividly, try asking yourself the question, “How would I say it if I were trying to tell somebody about it?” That will frequently straighten the whole matter out for you and give you instantly the point at which you wish to begin the explanation. And it will generally make for good news-writing, as it will generally make for clearness, vividness, and forcefulness.
“Use concrete terms” is another good bit of advice in the choice of words, and applies from the simple matter of being specific up to the matter of attempting artistically to depict the fine shades of a man’s manner. “Six men” is better for news purposes than “A number of men,” because it is more specific. “Harvard trampled over Yale yesterday” is better news-writing than “Harvard won from Yale yesterday,” because it is more vivid, it gives more of an image, it is thus more concrete. When fire “shoots out across the street,” it gives us something to see, and is vivid. “The first puff of flame” is good for the same reason. In general, descriptive verbs are better than descriptive nouns, however, for they are more active, and thus make for greater life in a piece of writing. The difference between a good writer and a weak and ineffective writer can, as a matter of fact, most often be traced to this matter of the comparative number of nouns and verbs. Take a news-story that grips you from beginning to end, say some account of a fire or an accident. Count the number of verbs, in comparison with the number of nouns and the total number of words used. Do the same for some humdrum account that does not hold your attention. From the first you felt that there was a difference, without knowing why. It will most likely be found that the vivid writer, the man who could hold your attention, has used a far higher percentage of verbs than the other. Beginners very often break the back of every verb with an adverb, and weaken every noun with an attendant adjective. The master of writing shows himself to be such by the comparative absence of these two parts of speech. He gets his effects by using colorful verbs. A good exercise consists in watching the people one meets in daily life on the sidewalks, and trying to find the one verb which will distinguish their way of walking from that of everybody else you have seen that day. There are a thousand and one different ways of saying “He went across the street,” just as there are of stating the fact of “She said,” and an excellent start toward a vivid style lies in these two suggestions.
In the matter of slang, good taste alone must dictate. In certain types of stories, slang is permissible. Sports particularly have indulged in this language. On the other hand there are stories where it would be distinctly bad taste and out of place. In an obituary, for instance, we rarely wish to see slang used. On the whole, it may be safely said that a writer weakens his real command over language if he allows himself to become dependent on slang for forcefulness. Most reputable papers do not like slang in their general news-columns, as it tends to lower the tone of their paper.
SENTENCES are generally shorter in newspapers than in ordinary writing. Especially the first sentence must be short, in the estimation of many editors, who like a “short lead.” This does not mean, however, that a short choppy succession of bullet-like sentences is good newspaper writing. As has been said before, the best news-writing is that which attracts least attention to itself. So it is best to vary the form of one’s sentences, both in length and structure. A whole succession of very short or very long sentences would be monotonous, and hence bad. Several sentences all starting out with the same word or group of words would tire us. It is best to train one’s ear for this sort of thing in writing and to try to be sensitive to this sort of repetition so that if the typewriter begins to tap out automatically a series of monotonous sentences, the subconscious will step in and sound a warning. Another hint as to the forcefulness of sentences lies in the fact that in general a sentence sounds stronger if it ends with a noun or at least a verb. Not only is “a preposition bad to end a sentence with,” but the same is also true of adverbs and, to a less degree, of adjectives. Take some news-story that strikes you as being strongly written, and look at the closing words of the sentences. The results will bear me out, I am pretty sure.
In both sentences and paragraphs the most forceful arrangement is generally that in which the principal elements are placed first. Just as in the story as a whole it was seen that the lead gives the principal facts, so also at the beginning of each paragraph there should be some indication of the matter contained in it. In a fire story, if we are dealing with the insurance involved, the paragraph might open with the words: “Insurance covered most of the buildings, it was learned today.” Or if the damages are being dealt with, they might be organized under the paragraph beginning, “Total damages will amount to $50,000.” The sentence can be treated in the same manner, thus indicating to the reader its bearing on the story as a whole and making for greater coherence.
For this reason, such expressions as “It is said,” or “Mr. Smith remarked,” or “She declared,” are generally not placed either at the beginning of a sentence or of a paragraph, but are “buried” in the body of the sentence or the paragraph. The important position at the beginning is thus reserved for really important matter. Situations may arise where this general rule will best be neglected, but on the whole it embodies a good principle of news-writing.
PARAGRAPHS as a whole are shorter in newspapers than elsewhere, and this is one of the most marked differences encountered by the young writer taking up newspaper work. Because of the narrowness of the average newspaper column, allowing only about six or seven words to the line, an ordinary paragraph taken from a novel or an essay would take on a length that would discourage the reader. Newspapers differ in this respect, but fifty words may be taken as the common length of paragraphs in news-stories. This means that the thought is divided into smaller sections, and the reporter must early begin to learn to organize his material accordingly.
The news-story as a whole is generally very simply organized. In the lead, as has been said, are given all the principal facts of the story, including in the first sentence or the first paragraph at latest the five essentials. If there are other facts so interesting that they ought to be brought before the reader in this first account, they may be added, before the “body” of the story is reached. If the editor has asked for a longer story than is made by these facts, the reporter can go back to the beginning of the happening and give an account of the whole thing, following the time sequence and being careful not to repeat the material already incorporated in the lead.
In the story of a FIRE, for instance, the lead would include, besides the most interesting fact in the whole story, the five essentials as to WHAT burned, WHERE, WHEN, and HOW. If there were other interesting circumstances, these would now be given, together with the total damages, insurance, etc. In the body of the story would be given the origin of the fire, who discovered the fire, who gave the alarm, what companies responded, narrow escapes, other houses threatened, what was saved, etc. If there are deaths in the fire, that fact will generally be made the feature of the story and the same is true of rescues.
In the case of an ACCIDENT, the names of the dead or seriously wounded will generally be featured, unless there are too many of them, in which case the number itself would be placed first. In a story like this, the names of the dead and wounded are often placed in a “box” at the head of the story, with the addresses, ages, occupations, of the people so that they can be quickly identified by the reading public. The five essentials are given, with particular stress laid on the WHO, so that, as has been pointed out, a full identification can readily be made by those interested. If more is needed, a detailed account of the accident can be given, with verbatim account from the people themselves if possible, or from witnesses. The names of those who rendered assistance are given, the attending physician, and to what hospital the wounded were taken. This last is naturally very important, as friends or relatives who have not previously heard of the accident will wish to know this fact immediately.
In the account of a MEETING, after the lead, which will tell where and when the meeting took place and for what purpose, besides bringing out the most interesting feature of the whole story, will come the chronological story of the meeting, with at least the main parts of the various speeches. Direct quotation is generally most desirable for at least a part of the speech. As was pointed out before, the specific is what the public wants; and when the reader sees quotation marks, he feels that he is getting real news from the meeting. For the same reason, these direct quotations are placed at the beginning of a paragraph. They tend to liven a story and should be placed where the reader’s eye will easily light on them. Expressions such as “he said,” “continued the speaker,” “demanded Mr. Jones,” etc., should be buried in the body of the paragraph, as being less important.
SPORTS stories always give the results of a game first, with the WHY or HOW element played up if possible. The five essentials are given, and in the lead are also given any particularly interesting facts which the reader would want to know first before going on with the rest of the story. Then the account is taken up round by round, inning by inning, quarter by quarter, etc., and a more or less detailed statement of each play is given. Finally the line-up on each side is given, with names of officials, etc.
Accounts of TRIALS are generally begun with the final decision, with the five essentials, as in other stories, and with especial care manifested once more in the matter of the WHO.
The reporter must be very careful in this matter of identification in such cases, as in case he says it was Charles D. Mazuma of the X.Y.Z. railroad office who is on trial, whereas in fact it was a Charles L. Mazuma of the D.E.F. Interurban lines, he lays his paper open to heavy damages. Direct or indirect quotation of evidence is frequently given, in cases which particularly interest the public.
Another type of story in which the reporter must exercise great care is the CRIME story. The five essentials are all most important here and the most interesting element will be featured as usual. The HOW and the WHY are always interesting in cases of this kind, or in case they are unknown, statements of opinion may be quoted or given as the general belief. In case of murder, the name of the victim will generally be featured, although in case the murderer is a prominent figure in the community, his name would very likely be put first. But the thing that must be borne in mind all the time while writing a crime news-story is the fact that the man has not yet been convicted of the crime, and consequently we must be careful not to try him in the columns of our newspaper, or convict him in our news-accounts. This means that we must not say that So-and-So stole a watch, for that fact is not yet proven before a court of law. If he has confessed to it, all right. But otherwise all that we know is that he has been CHARGED with that offense, and we must be careful to go no further. This is the reason why you will find newspaper stories of crimes so hedged about with such expressions as “it is alleged” and “is said to have.” Until he has been tried, a man is an alleged thief only, and the reporter must remember that fact, else his paper may find itself with a pretty libel suit on its hands, with damages in the tens of thousands.
If the WHO is not known in a crime story, that very fact is interesting, and possible clues and suspects may be given in the lead. In the body of the story, an account may be given of the discovery of the crime, the calling of the police, their investigations. Quotations from police or victims may be given, or from people arrested in connection with the affair. Witnesses of crimes may be quoted verbatim or indirectly. It is not necessary to make the story more sensational than it is. Here, as elsewhere, good reporting consists in the clear statement of facts, set down in terms of specific observations. The reporter should at all times remain what his name implies, one that brings reports of things seen and heard. His own opinions should be kept in the background at all times, and nowhere more so than in this type of story.
The INTERVIEW, as a form of news writing, follows the same lines as the other types of stories already considered, and is similarly organized. The five essentials come in, although be it noticed that the HOW generally entails a physical description of the man or woman being interviewed. The feature is very frequently drawn from this description, or from some noteworthy remark which is quoted directly. The interviewer’s questions are rarely inserted, or if they are, they are quoted indirectly. The body of the story consists very largely of quotation, and the main problem here is generally to gain sufficient variety to hold the interest. Such slight changes as are necessary to put important words first in the sentence are allowable. If a prominent banker says, “I think that labor is being unjustly hindered,” you are perfectly justified in putting it in the more forceful form, “Labor is, I think, being unjustly hindered.” So long as the thought of the speaker is accurately represented, the reporter is within his bounds.
What is commonly called SOCIETY NEWS generally features the names of the people involved. Guests, decorations, clothing, music, chaperons, entertainment, speakers, toasts, etc., are given in the body of the story. Insofar as amateur theatrical performances and local talent concerts also come under the head of society, they will be treated in much the same fashion. The most interesting feature will sometimes lie in the scenery, treatment, subject, etc., which will tend most effectively to distinguish this particular performance from other recent entertainments of the same sort. At the end the program is often simply pasted on the sheet of copy-paper, to be printed entire. In announcing engagements and marriages the reporter must protect himself against the quasi-jokers who sometimes send in fake items of this kind about their acquaintances.
OBITUARIES almost invariably begin with the name of the person who has died. The time and place of the death, with cause, are given in the lead. The time and place of interment are given, as are also the names of the surviving family. Following this commonly comes a detailed account of the life of the deceased, sometimes set off from the foregoing by a dash. In all big papers there are well-organized files of the lives of men and women prominent in the community, state, nation, or internationally, and on this “morgue” the reporter can draw when he must write an obituary.
There is another type of story, which differs from those already dealt with, only in the fact that it “follows up” some detail or details of a previous day’s story, and hence is known as a “follow-up” story. If in the case of a robbery, the robber is caught on the second day, that fact will very likely be featured in the story. On the first day all the elements were given concerning the discovery of the robbery, police investigation, amount taken, etc., and hence these will not now be given in such detail. But a brief summary of them will be given in the lead, so that readers who missed the first account will be able to follow intelligently the details given in the present story. Even in the case of a story which has received national attention, and has been running in the papers for weeks, any new development in the affair will be featured, but somewhere will also appear a short account of the original story, even if it is no more than a clause tacked onto one of the more important sentences. Otherwise the follow-up story differs in no degree from other stories in the news-columns.
The art of developing follow-up features, however, is one of the reporter’s most valuable gifts, it may be stated in passing, and nowhere is it so important to have that “nose for news” of which we hear so much talk. The best reporting is sometimes embodied in these further developments which were not given in the original story. Questions of WHO are involved in discovering the culprit of a mysterious crime, just as the WHAT may develop into results and further activities not anticipated at the first. In this same connection one may obtain statements from authorities and prominent people as to the meaning and significance of the occurrence, not generally realized. WHERE may lead to news of the present whereabouts of offender, victim, or loot. WHY or HOW may lead to the discovery of motive or method which were unknown at the time of the first story. Thus, in the first write-up of a fire, the extent of the conflagration would be the feature. In a second story, perhaps the insurance, plans for re-building, and a contemplated investigation would be featured, whereas on the third day perhaps a suspicion of incendiarism would be announced by the authorities, and on the fourth a suspect would be arrested. These would all offer opportunities for follow-up stories, each offering new features, and constituting practically a new story, except for the fact that a brief review of the original facts of the fire would be given in each story.
Of a different type is the “re-write” story, of which the reporter generally has many to do in the course of his writing. In its commonest form, a clipping from another paper is re-written for “our” sheet, and the attempt then is so to change its form without altering its facts, that it may pass for an original account. This generally entails the finding of a new feature in the facts of the story, and for this purpose a firm grasp of the fundamental human interests, as already outlined, is essential. In most stories there are more than one possible feature, and it is the business of the re-write man to pick out some other one of these than the one used by the first man, and work it up into a story. Thus if in a clipping from another paper it was announced that hereafter all dances in town charging admission must pay a privilege tax of $2.50, the re-write man might feature the fact that the tax must be paid in advance for each dance given. Sometimes a clipping concerning a police-court trial will contain an indirect statement as to motive or cause. This can be turned into a direct statement and featured in the re-write. The re-write is generally shorter than the story from which it is taken. It is used only because, for some reason or other, the paper failed to cover the story in question. This may have been because a rival paper got a “scoop,” or because the story appeared in a morning paper, while “our” paper appears in the afternoon. In the latter case it is possible that our readers have already seen the story in the morning paper, but we want to protect those of our readers who did not see it there, and offer them at least some sort of an account of the story. Hence the re-write, which, while not considered the highest form of the reporter’s art, is still looked upon as legitimate.
In the preparation of copy, it is the invariable rule nowadays that the typewriter be used. In the rush of the modern newspaper office time is too precious to be wasted over handwritten manuscript. But on the other hand, the copy can be as marked up and changed as is necessary, so long as it is easily legible to the linotype operator when it comes into his hands to be set into type for printing. The whole standard of neatness and legibility in newspaper copy is set by that fact.
Thus, copy is always written double-spaced, with good wide white spaces between the lines. Paragraphs are indented an inch or an inch and a half, so as to be easily recognized as such by the operator. If a comma is changed to a period, or contrariwise, that fact is made perfectly evident on the copy, with no doubt about it. A small cross or a ring with a dot in it is frequently used for a period. If a small letter is to be capitalized, three short horizontal lines are drawn beneath it, and if a capital letter is to be changed into a small letter, an oblique line is to be drawn through it. A word to be struck out altogether is not erased. Reporters haven’t time to traffic with rubber erasers. The work is obliterated with a soft black pencil, however, so there is no doubt in the mind of the operator if it is to go in or not. If a numeral, 9, for instance, is to be written out in words, “nine,” a ring is drawn around it, and the linotype operator will understand. The same is true of abbreviations.
Only one side of the paper is used, and at the top of the first sheet, wide space is left for the headline to be written in. If there is more than one sheet, they are generally all pasted together in one long string, so as not to get separated, although when a reporter has to write his story at different times this is impossible and he then writes at the bottom of his story “MORE” and at the top of the next sheet “ADD 2 ELECTION RETURNS.” At the end of his story he generally puts some symbol to indicate the close. It is very frequently a “30” with a ring around it, which is simply the sign of “the end” in the telegraph code.
A few hints on the gathering of news may not be amiss. It must be understood from the beginning that the reporter is not actually present when all of the things happen about which he must write. A newspaper could hardly keep large enough a staff to be actually on hand when every accident and every fire took place. There are many happenings which take place according to SCHEDULE, and which reporters can consequently “cover” by being present on time and witnessing the event. Such are games, trials, ceremonies, social functions, interviews, parades, etc. But there are also hosts of occurrences which happen unexpectedly, and of which the newspaper office can perforce know nothing in advance. Such are crimes, fires, accidents, etc. The problem, then, limits itself to finding out in advance the schedule of pre-arranged events, and the quick discovery of happenings which come off without warning.
As to games, trials, parades, and most ceremonies, it is easy enough to keep track of them, for their occurrence is so much a matter of public interest that they are in some form or other advertised to the people ahead of time. The same is true of marriages, for which a license must be obtained from a public official and recorded in a book open to the reporter. Deeds, mortgages, wills, and other legal transactions have the same advantage in the eyes of the newspaper. Social functions are a little harder, sometimes, to keep track of. Hotels and restaurants will be glad to furnish the papers discreetly with lists of coming events in their quarters, however, as it makes for good publicity. Caterers and fancy bakers are generally not averse to giving out the names and dates of coming events for which they have orders. Many women call up and let the newspaper know of their affairs in advance. In this connection it is well to state that all newspapers like to have names in their columns, in abundance. Get names. Names make for circulation. Names make for popularity with a paper. There is not a human being that does not like to see his name in print. Sometimes a person will call up the paper or see the editor on the street and request that his or her name be kept out of the paper in the future. But there is one thing that a person objects to, more than seeing his name in the paper too much—and that, of course, is not to see it in there at all. Wherever you can garner up a name, grab it and use it in your news-writing. Write large in the tablets of your memory, “GET NAMES.” There is only one thing more important in this respect, and that is to get the names correctly. I said a moment ago that only one thing was worse than not seeing your name in the paper at all, but I believe I must almost take that back. If anything can be worse than never appearing in the paper, it is to appear there, with one’s name misspelled. Such a state of affairs, if habitually indulged in, can ruin the public’s good feeling for a paper, and then it might as well shut up shop.
As to the UNEXPECTED happenings of the day, which the reporter is supposed to catch and depict for the readers, the case is not so altogether different as the uninitiated would suppose. In the first place, most of these happenings are reported to the police, and the record of them is thus quickly made available to the press. If a man is run over, the police are among the first to know of it, and instantly the reporter is on the trail of the accident. Newspapers keep in constant contact with the police for this very purpose. And no better advice could be given to a young reporter than “to stand in well with the police.” Policemen know their communities in certain respects better than anyone else, and sometimes a tactful approach to a big blue-coat will do more to put a cub-reporter on the trail of a story than a couple of hours of other attempts. Fire-stations and ambulance-stations are also good positions from which to keep in contact with the news. Hospitals, undertakers, the coroner’s office, ministers, prominent club-people, are all sources of news, which, although they are organized for other purposes, offer admirable places for the registration of facts which the public wants to know about as news. Hotels, railways, markets, stock exchanges, wharves and schools all furnish good sources of information. Doctors are rarely good sources of news, and hospitals sometimes give trouble in this matter. But on the whole, all the localities thus far mentioned are such regular gatherers and storers-up of news for the papers, that editors put them on what is known as a “run” or a “beat” to be visited periodically and the news gathered from them. To the layman it comes as a shock to find how little we do in this world that is not docketed somewhere, more or less officially. But it is a godsend to the reporter, who thus can perform the seemingly impossible task of being everywhere at the same time, seeing everything in all parts of the city.
Much of the reporter’s time is spent in gaining information from people by the general means of question and answer, and it is here that he can use every ounce of tact and the knowledge of human nature that he possesses. INTERVIEWING is the general name that can be given to this part of his work, even though the word is generally reserved for the more formal tasks of this nature. But there are some principles that are useful in this matter, whether it be a washerwoman or a bank president that is being questioned, and they can be set down here. In the first place, it is almost universally a waste of time to ask anybody “Have you any news?” Unless one has had technical or practical training, a person usually does not know what constitutes news. Just as he must aim at being specific in his writing, so also must the reporter be prepared to ask specific questions of the people from whom he hopes to gain information. “Who did so and so?” or “What did so and so do?” or “When did so and so happen?” “Do you know where so and so is?” are the type of definite questions that must be asked. Especially before tackling a busy executive must the reporter have well in mind the exact points which he wishes to clear up; but the same thing holds true in all cases. The reporter organizes his questions, as it were, before he begins to talk, knows what he wants to find out, and then goes for it. Otherwise he will only too often find himself at last outside an office door with no real advance made, no material gained for his story, or he will find that some loquacious woman has led him far astray into fields that have nothing to do with the story in point. Before beginning to talk over the telephone, the reporter should have his questions particularly well in mind, as he will be forced to carry on a running fire of question and comment and at the same time be jotting down notes. In face-to-face interviewing the reporter frequently has difficulty in the matter of taking notes, as many people will take fright when they see that their words are being taken down, and they will then shut up like a clam. On the whole, it is perhaps better not to produce a note-book in the presence of the person being interviewed, but to jot down the notations immediately upon leaving. Over the telephone it is always best, also, immediately to state that “this is such-and-such a paper speaking.”
If the authorities still do not know the identity of a culprit, or a corpse, etc., do not state that “an unknown man” is in question. The proper expression is “an unidentified man.”
Similarly, do not state that a person has died “of heart failure,”—for after all, that is what everybody eventually does. What is meant is “heart trouble” or “heart disease.”
In the matter of capital letters, newspapers can be grouped under two great heads, those that incline to fewer capitals, and those leaning toward more capitals. They are then known respectively as “down” or “up” sheets, and a moment’s inspection of a paper will generally suffice to show in which group it belongs. Some papers even print White House with lower case initials. When writing for a paper, the reporter should immediately find out whether it is “up” or “down.” The tendency today seems to be toward fewer capitals. Many papers do not capitalize “Street” or “Avenue.” Often such titles as “President” or “Secretary” are capitalized if they stand before a name, and not, if they stand after it. In the same way, many papers do not capitalize “College” or “University” if they stand last. Thus, such papers would say “University of Wisconsin,” but “Oberlin college.”
Such matters are generally established in a newspaper office by what is known as the “style-sheet,” and the reporter should quickly familiarize himself with the style-sheet of his paper. Newspapers vary, for instance, in their printing of numbers. In some sheets, all numerals under one hundred are written out, and all above it are given in figures. In other offices the rule is that all numbers above ten are given in numerals. Also there are on nearly every paper certain expressions or words which must not under any circumstances be used. One editor will not permit “over” in the sense of “more than,” whereas another editor will not tolerate the word “admirable” in his columns. These matters are entirely a question of the personal opinion of those in authority, and must therefore simply in each case be memorized and complied with.
General rules of grammar must also, of course, be followed, and need not be dwelt upon here. Attention may perhaps be drawn to the danger of the “hanging participle,” however, as it is sometimes met with in otherwise carefully written sheets. “Throwing on his brakes too quickly, the car skidded before Jones could dodge the child, etc.,” shows the error referred to. “Throwing” is the participle, and inasmuch as it refers to Jones, his name should then have been made the subject of the sentence. Another error frequently met with consists in joining a plural subject and a singular verb or contrariwise. “Each of the culverts are to be investigated” announced one of this morning’s metropolitan papers. Of course “each” is a singular pronoun and should have been followed by “is.” Any good handbook of rhetoric, such as Wooley’s, will point out a host of such stumbling blocks.
In the matter of titles, it may be remarked that “Mr. and Mrs. Thomas D. Jones” is considered better than “Mr. Thomas D. Jones and his wife.” The abbreviation “Rev.” must not be used unless the given names are used. Thus “The Rev. Thompson” is incorrect. Either “The Reverend Mr. Thompson” or “The Rev. Henry B. Thompson” must be used. So also, “Mr.” is generally omitted before a name if the given name is used. “Walter F. Brown” and “Mr. Brown” are the proper forms.
Fight shy of trite expressions. Keep on the constant look-out in your writing for any tendency to slip into hackneyed phrases whose edges have become blunted. “Elegant,” “charming,” “well-known” ought in general to be left as much alone as “the conventional black” or “doing as well as could be expected.” A real interest in your work, a true realization of the infinite variety and richness of the life going on about you, and a desire to state in as vivid a form as possible all the things you have to say will go far in saving you from this trouble. Don’t fall into the way of doing “rubber-stamp” writing.
And now, as the very last hint of all comes perhaps the most important statement:
Let that motto be branded in your memory the deepest of all. Interest was the key to all news-writing, we found at the beginning, and certainly its importance cannot be over-stated. But in the name of interest the matter of ACCURACY FIRST should never be lost sight of. A reporter whose work cannot be trusted in this matter will lose out sooner or later, just as a newspaper itself which cannot be trusted will lose caste. It may seem innocent enough here and there to touch up a story just a little bit to enhance its interest. Some editors, even, may insist upon your injecting a little of this venial spice. But the feeling is growing more and more strong that a reporter should be exactly what his name implies, one that reports. After all, the people are trusting him as the basis on which will be built that thing most important to a democracy, public opinion. If public information is polluted here at its very source, there is danger of contagion and disease throughout the nation. The finest newspaper men of this and other lands are striving to make imperative throughout their sheets the motto
ACCURACY FIRST.
Obvious printing errors, such as missing letters or letters printed in the wrong order, were corrected. Obsolete spelling was not changed. Final stops missing at the end of sentences were added.