newspapering

WHO WROTE THAT?

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

As thankless jobs went, writing for the Santa Rosa newspapers must have ranked high. Reporters and columnists rarely had bylines in the early 20th century; only the names of the editor/publisher (Ernest L. Finley at the Press Democrat, and Allen B. Lemmon at the Santa Rosa Republican) appeared on editorial mastheads, along with their city editors (Herb Slater and J. Elmer Mobley, respectively). Those who harbored ambitions of being the next Mark Twain or Finley Peter Dunne or Upton Sinclair had the bitter solace of a small paycheck and the satisfaction of reading their precious prose in print, albeit after it was thoroughly mangled by that semi-literate oaf of a copy editor.

Aside from editorial cartoonists, only gossip columnists had some measure of recognition and freedom. Long a staple in the big city papers, the Republican introduced a gossip column in 1905 and was ridiculed by the Press Democrat for what it called, “Sussiety news,” although the PD followed suit a year later with its own “Society Gossip” column. Written under the pseudonym of “Dorothy Anne” (real name now lost, but her identity surely was well known at the time), she was an insufferable snoot who fawned over Luther Burbank and wrote catty remarks about those in her own social circle. If Dorothy Anne were alive today, she would be blasting out snarky tweets complaining that the other residents of the nursing home just bored her to tears.

By 1908 the “women’s section” in both papers settled down to mundane reviews of mundane lodge dances, weddings, and card parties. At the Republican, however, the column still flashed occasional sparks. Now dubbed “Pencil Gatherings Among the Social And Other People” (it would later be called the even more irreverent “Unclassified News of the Social and Other Things”), the author(s) sometimes took a good-natured swipe at the rival PD, Santa Rosa’s morning newspaper:


A lady correspondent asks: “A morning paper, speaking of a dancing party, mentions ‘the lady patronesses.’ Why the modifying adjective to the noun?”

I don’t know.

In “Pencil Gatherings” that year appeared the funniest item (well, intentionally funny) I’ve yet found in these papers: An account of an “up-town citizen” dropping by the newsroom for a “nice, long, social visit” with a harried editor. Likely it was a composite portrait of many such annoying visitors, and I couldn’t read this without thinking of Major Hoople, a pompous blowhard who was the central character in the popular “Our Boarding House” newspaper comic after WWI. Hoople was a bit like the characters played by W. C. Fields, minus the likability. He was always boasting of some great achievement in his past or a get-rich-quick scheme underway, and rarely without a lit cigar in his hand; the Major’s trademark was distressing throat-clearing sounds (probably caused by his cheap stogies) such as “faugh”, “awp”, and “fuf-f-ff-f-s-s-sputt-t”. I can easily imagine Hoople perched there on the end of a desk fully believing that he’s holding court, while heads were bent low over the typewriters and fingers furiously banged on the keys, hoping against hope that he’d take the hint and walk across the street to bother the guys at the Press Democrat instead.

(RIGHT: A 1927 panel from “Our Boarding House” reprinted in a fine paperback edition from Algrove Publishing.)

“Mr. Society Man,” said an up-town citizen the other day, as he settled himself on the edge of my desk for a nice, long, social visit. “I hear they are a-goin’ to have a bench show.” I continued writing and he continued talking.

“Now, I like a good dog,” said he, “though I never had one; and would like to see a string of fine bow-wows line up for prizes. If I had a decent dog I’d put him in and win all the blue ribbons, by jimminy, I would. Say, if any of the ladies who are gittin’ up this fair want any help. I’ll be on hand. Awful fine dog up our way, on King street. Great Dane–bigger’n a mule, and he has a chum, a stubby little English pug–nose smashed all over his face–thoroughbred–his father was kenneled at Windsor Castle–Queen Victoria brought him up by hand. Haven’t got a cigar about you, have you?”

I hadn’t, and kept on writing and he went on talking.

“Them two dogs is a team. One big, ‘tother little. Society would just go wild over them. ‘Nother feller up on College avenue has a Spitz–long white whiskers all over him; famous breed, too. His sire help haul a sled clear through the northwest passage from Baffins Bay to Bering Sea. I, I’m some on dogs. Got a match?”

I had no match and went on with my work without a break, and he did the same with his statements.

“I would like to take the contract to round up the stray ki-yis for the pound man,” said he, putting the unlighted cigar stub in his pocket. “Up our way I have registered about 4000 cur dogs running untagged and untaxed. If a man in this town has a good dog, he is taxed for the privilege of keeping the canine. If the dog is worthless, it doesn’t cost him a bean. So you see, it pays to have a durned mangy cur slinking around nightly, raiding the neighbor’s slop cans. A feller over other side of the College park has three half-starved dogs and I have been keepin them alive for months. By jinks, they just live in my back yard. This ain’t a nature fake story. I’m going up to the council some night and set in banc with the city attorney, and we’ll get out the doggondest dog ordinance–one that no superior judge’ll knock out, durned if we don’t. We’ll just load the treasury with dog tax money. We’ll patch the holes in all the streets, have a public park for every ward and provide Frank Muther with plate glass fire boxes so the lightning won’t get in ’em stormy nights and blow the corks–I mean plugs out. Got a Kansas City paper ‘mong that pile of exchanges over there?”

Nobody went to see, and the citizen resumed: “By George, I’m awful glad to see they’re goin’ to have a bench show and encourage good dogs in the town and pay license on them. A place that can get up such thoroughbreds as Anteeo, Lou Dillon and Sonoma Girl should raise better bow-wows. Say give me a paper. I don’t know whether I got mine last night or not.”

– Santa Rosa Republican, January 18, 1908

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PRETTY PAGE, UGLY PAGE

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

A gourmet savors the taste of a sauce; a lover of classical music and art sighs over symmetry of a sonata or sculpture. Me, I swoon over the frenzied chaos found in turn-of-the-century newspapers, with screamer headlines using enough black ink to gag a squid. “LOOK AT ME!” “BUYYY MEEEE!” headlines shouted in cacophony, each promising stories more sordid, more terrific than any of their competition on the sidewalk newsstand, often with eye-catching photographs exploding out of the frame. The wonderful artists who designed these pages had little idea what they were doing; they were unbound by established conventions or stylebooks, guided only by what they hoped might tease a curious citizen out of a nickel.

There is no good book on the evolution of newspaper graphic design (as far as I can tell), which is a shame – as the craft matured from the Civil War onwards, so was developed the art of persuasion, both for political and advertising ends. Much originated with the Victorian England tabloids and was imitated in late 19th century America, but a new pace was set by the newspapers of William Randolph Hearst, who clearly understood that visual style was integral to telling a compelling story (as well as using those stories to advance his political objectives). Nor did he hesitate to use graphics for just the sake of attention; my favorite Hearst design story is that one of his papers printed a full-sized picture of a revolver that took up far more space than the accompanying story, which simply mentioned that a gun had been used in a minor crime.

Besides paying tribute to Hearst’s innovations, I hope that whomever writes this history will give salute to George French, who wrote prolifically in printing trade journals at the time about the importance of typography, then later specifically about graphic design (and psychology) in “The Art and Science of Advertising” and other works. If you have any interest at all in this topic, don’t miss his 1919 masterwork, “How to Advertise” which could be a textbook for communication majors today (and probably should). French and others ushered in the golden age of newspaper design, magazine illustration, and print advertising, which all coincided c. 1910-1925. Stylish was the new style; it was as if every editor and artist decided it was time to doff the work clothes and slip into evening wear, a chilled martini in hand. But that’s getting ahead of our story.

Below are partial front pages of four newspapers, all published on October 23, 1907 (click on any image to enlarge). This was an important news day; it was near the peak of the Bank Panic, and fears ran high that the U.S. financial system was about to collapse at any minute. The Santa Rosa Press Democrat is included not just because it’s the hometown fishwrap, but because its coverage and layout was quite typical of smaller newspapers at this time. Stories were crowded together with little or no organization, making it difficult to read; the front page was an ugly slab of newsprint, little changed from how it had looked during the late 19th century. An academic paper comparing coverage by the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal is also available.
* The Press Democrat was a morning paper, so to be fair, it must be noted that it was reporting on events from the previous day (although the following edition kept the same layout, with a 2-column story in the same place and the same font; the headline that day was, “FINANCIAL SITUATION IS PANICKY ALL OVER COUNTRY”). Not much detail on the crisis was ever provided in the PD; as Santa Rosa is on the rim of the San Francisco Bay Area, anyone seeking in-depth coverage could find it in papers from that city and Oakland, which arrived on the morning train. Typical of 19th century newspaper design, there are plentiful subheads and every story is presented in the same, basic typography. The single graphic is unrelated to any news in the paper – it’s a portrait of an East Coast railroad company president. In this era the PD front page often splashed portraits of notables and pictures of buildings; did editor Ernest Finley hope any random photograph would boost readership?
* Before the advent of Hearst, the New York World (top right) was certainly the best-looking paper in Victorian-era America. The front page was usually illustrated with original small engravings, and in 1898, their massive color printing press changed the Sunday Comics forever. But like the New York Times, the 20th Century began with World remained locked into the 19th century grid format of simple typography pouring down columns that were the length of the page. By 1907, however, the design was less rigid, and the World could (almost) pass for an outpost in the Hearst empire. In the example here, the World’s front page tastefully mixed typography to differentiate and emphasize stories. The World also followed Hearst’s style of placing the results of the most talked-about sporting event at the top of the front page, no matter what else the news.
* The San Francisco Call presented the most beautiful layout of the day, with banner-width headlines and neatly organized articles. Alas, the progressive Call also followed Hearst’s lead in twisting the news to further the paper’s political objectives. President Teddy Roosevelt didn’t “boldly defy” bankers as the headline claimed; he’d only made a short comment to the press blaming “stock speculators” for the crisis. The Call also featured a political cartoon on the front page, another hallmark of the Hearst style – and coincidentally, this cartoon actually jabbed at Hearst, himself. (The cartoonist’s message refers to Hearst’s backing Dan Ryan for San Francisco mayor; Leon Czolgosz assassinated President McKinley In 1901, and his supposedly “weak and excitable brain” was driven to murder because of Hearst’s fear-baiting editorials. Ipso facto, Ryan was in league with a crazed assassin.)
* The Oakland Tribune produced a front page with quite a nice layout, but the paper is also the hands-down winner of the Rosebud Award for Hearstian Sensationalism. The “rich man” who committed suicide had nothing to do with the financial crisis; he was a local businessman who killed himself for no known reason. And the “Stock Exchange” was really the Pittsburgh Clearing House, whose temporary closure was little noticed outside of Pennsylvania and, for some reason, Oakland California.

I want to write more about this topic in the future, and had intended to share my appreciation of old newspaper design since this blog was launched in 2007, but never got around to it. What finally inspired me was the advertisement below, which is so godawfully bad that you must understand that really, really good design existed at the time in order to appreciate its brain-freezing idiocy.

The full page Press Democrat ad – which appeared SEVERAL TIMES in early 1908 – depicted a drawing of a house. Over the drawing were small business ads, sometimes shaped as if they were signs physically posted on the house, but also sometimes awkwardly floating in the air. These were supposedly “the leading business houses in Santa Rosa.” Houses: Get it? Get it? (I swear, I have not seen an adult human bean produce anything this childlike since a dental hygienist once forced me to gaze upon an instructional poster she had created at dental hygienist school. Red heart-shaped sparkles were glued around the mouth of a patient to suggest a clean bill of health, but I recoiled because without my glasses, it looked like the person was spewing blood after a runaway drill mishap.)

Regrettable concept aside, someone at the PD probably deserved credit for creative salesmanship. These businesses were all steady advertisers who had 1-inch text ads appearing three or more times a week. Presumably the paper collected a premium for “featuring” them in this swell display.

And then there was the ad copy, which offered additional wonders. The slogan, “better smoke here than hereafter” was, more or less, the advertising message of the tobacco industry for the rest of the century, although it was usually expressed with more subtlety. It was nice to know that H. H. Moke was an EXPERIENCED mortician, and the Marlott Bros. conducted a first-class bicycle business, even though their address was secret. The White Star Laundry included the squib, “And this is the House of Clean Linen”, which I always read as a question delivered in a Borscht Belt accent. And who could resist Little Pete, whose restaurant had the charming motto, “eat with me and you will love me always.” Now, there was a guy who truly understood advertising.



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THE UNMENTIONED POISONER

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

Here’s an exercise in journalism ethics: Take a small farm town (say, Santa Rosa in 1907, with a population of about 10,000 people) and imagine there was a serious incident of food poisoning. At least ten people were sick enough that a doctor was called, one so seriously ill that “a hypodermic injection was necessary to restore life.” The source of the “Ptomaine poisoning” was immediately determined to be the shrimp salad sold by a popular downtown market.

So here’s the problem: Does a newspaper have a responsibility to identify the place that sold the contaminated food? If that shop was an exclusive advertiser in your newspaper, should the editor avoid mentioning the name of the business when reporting the story?

(RIGHT: Portion of Press Democrat advertising section, March 16, 1907)
POISONED ON SHRIMP SALAD
Numbers of Persons Rendered Seriously Ill

Shrimp salad from Apostolides’ California Grill and Oyster Market was responsible for wholesale ptomaine poisoning in this city Friday night. Calls for doctors came from several directions and some of the poisoned persons writhed in agony all night long. Saturday afternoon they are all reported out of danger, thanks to prompt medical attendance, but are still suffering from the effects of the salad.

Mrs. M. E. Carithers was probably one of the most seriously poisoned, and anxious watchers remained with her all night long. When William R. Carithers was called to the bedside of his mother he found her almost pulseless and she was as cold as she will ever be in death. Medical attendance was hastily summoned and a hypodermic injection was necessary to restore life to Mrs. Carithers.

Mrs. Henry C. Cline also partook of the salad and was rendered violently ill. She suffered all through the night and was in intense agony. Her sister, Miss Mattie Stewart, was likewise afflicted from having partaken of the salad, and her suffering did not begin until after she had left the home of Mrs. Cline to go to her own home on Mendocino avenue. She had gone to drive to the depot to meet her parents who were returning from the Geysers, but the sudden illness prevented her moving at all.

Miss Hyer, the well known artist, was another of the residents who partook of the salad and suffered the baneful consequences. She was ill all night, but like the rest is now resting comfortably. She was treated my Mrs. Cummings, who reports that the patient had an awful bad night.

All of those who partook of the salad were seized with retchings and vomiting and suffered excruciating pains.

– Santa Rosa Republican, August 3, 1907
PTOMAINES IN THEIR SALADS
Physicians Are Kept Busy Night and Day With Sudden and Serious Cases of Poisoning

About a dozen cases of ptomaine poisoning set the doctors’ telephones a jingle with emergency calls Friday evening, and kept about a dozen doctors busy all night long. There were more on Saturday. Shrimp and crab salads were the mediums of the poison. Among the sufferers were Mrs. M. E. Carithers, Mrs. Henry C. Cline and her sister, Miss Mattie Stewart, Miss Hyer the artist, Miss Cecile C. Septrion, William S. Hunter, and Jack Matthews. Mr. Matthews was the last one to suffer. He ate crab salad Saturday afternoon and his illness soon followed.

Mrs. Carithers was one of those most painfully and most dangerously affected…most heroic treatment was necessary to restore her to animation. Mrs. Cline and Miss Stewart suffered all night, as did Miss Hyer.

Miss Septrion and Mr. Hunter were also seriously affected. It was not until Saturday noon that their physicians declared them out of danger. Both are deaf mutes. Miss Septrion is supervisor and Mr. Hunter a teacher in the school for the deaf at Vancouver, and are here visiting Miss Septrion’s brother-in-law and sister, Prof. and Mrs. J. D. Martin.

– Press Democrat, August 4, 1907

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