Part 16

The beginning of a human interest story is always the most important part; just like a news story, it must attract attention with its first line. In the same way, a good beginning is something more than half done. But here the similarity between the two ends. The news story, after the lead is written, may slump in technique so that the end is almost devoid of interest; the human interest story, on the other hand, must keep up its standard of excellence to the very last sentence and the last line must have as much snap as the first. It is never in danger of losing its last paragraph and so it may be more rounded and complete; it must follow a definite plan to the very end and then stop. In this it is like the short story, although it seldom has a plot. There are no rules to help us in writing any part of the human interest story. Each attempt has a different purpose and must be done in a different way. Yet the reporter must know before he begins just exactly how he is going to work out the whole story. He must plan it as carefully as a short story. A few minutes of careful thought before he begins to write are better than much reworking and alteration after the thing is done. This applies to all newspaper writing.

Much of the effectiveness of the human interest story depends upon the reporter's style. When we try to write human interest stories we are no longer interested in facts, as much as in words. Our readers are not following us to be informed, but to be entertained. And we can please them only by our style and the fineness of our perception. Although we have been told to write news stories in the common every-day words of conversation, we are not so limited in the human interest story. The elegance of our style depends very largely upon the size of our vocabulary, and elegance is not out of place in this kind of story. Although we have been told to use dialogue sparingly in news stories, our human interest story may be composed entirely of dialogue. In fact, we are hampered by no restrictions except the restrictions of English grammar and literary composition. Although we have sought simplicity of expression before, we may now strive for subtlety and for effect; we may write suggestively and even obscurely. We are dealing with the only part of the newspaper that makes any effort toward literary excellence and only our originality and cleverness can guide us.

It is hardly necessary to repeat that one cannot write human interest stories in a cynical tone. They are a reaction against cynicism. They require one to feel keenly, as a human being, and to write sympathetically, as a human being. The reporter must see behind the facts and get the personal side of the matter--and feel it. Then he must tell the story just as he sees and feels it. Absolute truthfulness in the telling is as necessary as keen perception in the seeing. Humor must be sought through the simple, truthful presentation of an incongruous or humorous idea or situation; pathos must be sought by the truthful presentation of a pathetic picture. Just as soon as the reporter tries to be funny or to be pathetic he fails, for the reader is not looking to the reporter for fun or pathos--but to the story that the reporter is telling. That is, the story must be written objectively; the writer must forget himself in his attempt to impress the story upon his reader's mind. If the story itself is fundamentally humorous or sad and the story is clearly and truthfully told with all the details that make it humorous or sad, it cannot help being effective.

The best way to learn how to write human interest stories is to study human interest stories. Most papers print them nowadays--they can easily be distinguished by their lack of news value, and of a lead--and the finest example is just as likely to crop out in a little weekly as in a metropolitan daily.

=4. The Animal Story.=--The examples printed earlier in this chapter are specimens of the truest type of human interest story because they deal with human beings. They derive their joy or sorrow from things that happen to men and women. But all the sketches that are classed as human interest stories are not so carefully confined to the limits of the title. From the original human interest story the type has grown until it includes many other things--almost any piece of copy that has no intrinsic news value. Every possible subject that may suit itself to a pathetic or humorous treatment and thus be interesting, although it has no news value, is roughly classed as a human interest story.

One of these outgrowths of the true human interest sketch is the animal story. In the large cities, the "zoo" and the parks have become a fruitful source of "news." Anything interesting that may happen to the monkeys, or the elephant, the sparrows or the squirrels in the parks, horses or dogs in the street, is used as the excuse for a human interest story. Sometimes the purpose is pathos and sometimes it is humor, but, whatever it may be, if it is clever and interesting it gets its place in the paper, a place entirely out of proportion to its true news value. The results sometimes verge very close upon nature faking, but after all they are only the result of the "up-lift" idea of looking at all life in a more sympathetic way. Several of the beginnings quoted earlier in this chapter belong to animal stories and the following is a complete one:

| Smithy Kain was only a mongrel, | |horsemen will say, but in his equine | |heart there coursed the blood of | |thoroughbreds. | | | | Smithy Kain was killed yesterday | |afternoon, shot through the head, while | |thousands of Wisconsin fair patrons looked | |on in shuddering sympathy. | | | | It was a tragedy of the track. | | | | Owners, trainers and drivers always are | |quick to declare that no greater courage | |is known than that possessed and | |demonstrated by race horses in hard-fought | |battles on the turf, and the truth of this | |was never more strikingly brought home | |than in the death of Smithy Kain | |yesterday. | | | | With a left hind foot snapped at the | |fetlock, Smithy Kain raced around the | |track, his valiant spirit and unfaltering | |gameness keeping him up until he had | |completed the course in unwavering pursuit | |of the flying horses in front. Every jump | |meant intense agony, but he would not | |quit. Not until near the finish did his | |strength give out, and not until then was | |the pitiable truth discovered. Men used to | |exhibitions of gameness in tests that try | |the soul looked on in mute admiration as | |Smithy Kain shivered and stumbled from the | |pain that rapidly sapped his life. Women | |cried openly. | | | | Two shots from the pistol of a park | |policeman ended the life and sufferings of | |the horse that was only a mongrel, but | |who, in his equine way, was a thoroughbred | |of thoroughbreds. | | | | Smithy Kain gave to his master the best | |that his animal mind and soul possessed. | |No better memorial can be written even of | |man himself. |

=5. The Special Feature Story.=--One step beyond the animal story is the special feature story. This kind of story is classed with the human interest story because it has no news value and because its only purpose is to entertain or to inform in a general way; and yet it rarely contains any human interest. There is no space in this book for a complete discussion of the special feature story--an entire volume might be devoted to the subject--but this form of story is often seen in the news columns of the daily papers and deserves a mention here. Ordinarily the special feature story is not written by reporters, although there is no reason why reporters should not use in this way many of the facts that come to them. The story usually comes from outside the newspaper office, from a contributor, from a syndicate, or from some other daily, weekly, or monthly publication; however a word or two here may suggest to the reporter the possibility of adding to his usefulness by writing such stories for his paper.

The special feature story may be almost anything. The name is used to designate timely magazine articles, timely write-ups for the Sunday edition, and timely squibs for the columns of the daily papers. The last use is the one that interests us and it interests us because it is very closely related to the human interest story. The editors usually call it a feature story because it is worth printing in spite of the fact that it has no news value. In this and in its timeliness it is like the human interest story. But it is not written for humor or pathos; its purpose is to entertain the reader. Its method is largely expository and its style may be anything; it may explain or it may simply comment in a witty way. The utilizing of otherwise useless by-products of the news is its purpose--in this it is very much like the animal story.

Subjects for feature stories may come from anywhere and may be almost anything. A very common kind of feature story is the weather story that many newspapers print every day. The weather is taken as the excuse for two or three stickfuls of print which explain and comment upon weather conditions, past, present and future. Growing out of this, there is the season story which deals with any subject that the season may suggest: the closing of Coney Island, the spring styles in men's hats, the first fur overcoat, Commencement presents, Easter eggs--anything in season. Further removed from the human interest story is the timely write-up which has no other purpose than to explain, in a more or less serious or sensible way, any interesting subject that comes to hand. The story purports not only to entertain but to inform as well. It has no news value and yet it is usually timely. Here are a few subjects selected at random from the daily papers: "He'll pay no tax on cake," explaining in a humorous way the customs methods that held up the importation of an Italian Christmas cake; "Clearing House for Brains," a description of the new employment bureau of the Princeton Club of New York; "Ideal man picked by the Barnard girl," a humorous resumé of some Barnard College class statistics; "Winning a Varsity Letter," telling what a varsity letter stands for, how it is won, and what the customs of the various colleges in regard to letters are; "Jerry Moore raises a record corn crop," telling how a fifteen-year-old boy won prizes with a little patch of corn.

These are just a few suggestions to open up to the reporter the vast field for special feature articles. To be sure, many of them are submitted by outsiders, but there is no reason why a reporter should not write these stories as well as human interest stories for his paper, since he is in the best position to get the material. Whenever a special feature story becomes too large for the daily edition there is always a possibility of selling it to the Sunday section or to a monthly magazine. The writing of special feature stories is directly in line with the reporter's work, because the ordinary method of gathering facts for a feature article and arranging them in an interesting, newsy way follows closely the method by which a reporter covers and writes a news story. Hence almost without exception the most successful magazine feature writers are, or have been, newspaper reporters.

XVI

DRAMATIC REPORTING

Dramatic reporting is one of the most misused of the newspaper reporter's activities. To many reporters, as well as to their editors, it is just an easy way of getting free admission to the theater in return for a half column of copy. Hence it is treated in an unjustly trivial way; the reports of theatrical productions are printed most often as space fillers or as a small advertisement in return for free tickets. But after all the work is an important one and should be done only by skillful and expert hands. Dramatic reporting is included in this book, not because it is thought possible to give the subject an adequate treatment, but because theatrical reporting is a branch of the newspaper trade that may fall to the hands of the youngest reporter. In mere justice to the stage the reporter who writes up a play should know something about the real significance of what he is doing. It is much easier to tell the beginner what not to do than to tell him exactly what to do. The faults in dramatic reporting are far more evident than the virtues; and yet there are some positive things that may be said on the subject.

The first important question in the whole matter is "Who does dramatic reporting?" One would like to answer, "Skilled critics of broad knowledge and experience." But unfortunately almost anybody does it--any one about the office who is willing to give up his evening to go to the theater. To be sure, many metropolitan papers employ skilled critics to write their dramatic copy and run the theatrical news over the critic's name. Some editors of smaller papers have the decency to do the work themselves. But in most cases the work is given to an ordinary reporter--and not infrequently to the greenest reporter on the staff. Worse than that, the work is seldom given to the same reporter continuously, but is passed around among all the members of the staff. Even a green cub may learn by experience how to report plays, but if the work falls to him only once a month his training is very meager. It would seem in these days of much discussion of the theater that editors would realize the power which they have over the stage through their favorable or unfavorable criticism. But they do not, perhaps because they know little about the stage, and the appeal must be made to their reporters. Every reporter, except upon the largest papers, has the opportunity sooner or later to give his opinion on a play. In anticipation of that opportunity these few words of advice are offered.

The first requisite in dramatic criticism is a background of knowledge of the drama and the stage. To children, and to some grown people, too, the stage is a little dream world of absolute realities. Their imaginations turn the picture that is placed before them into real, throbbing life. They do not see the unreality of the art, the suggestive effects, the flimsy delusions; to them the play is real life, the stage is a real drawing room or a real wood, and they cannot conceive of the actors existing outside their parts. But the critic must look deeper; he must understand the machinery that produces the effects and he must weigh the success of the effects. He must get behind the play and see the actors outside the cast and the stage without its scenery; the dramatic art must be to him a highly technical profession. For this reason, he must know something about dramatic technique; he must have some background of knowledge. He must study the theater from every point of view, from an orchestra seat, from behind the scenes, from a peekhole in the playwright's study, and from the pages of stage history. All the tricks and effects must be evident to him. The only thing that will teach him this is constant, intelligent theater-going. He must be familiar with all of the plays of the season and with all of the prominent plays of all seasons. A child cannot criticize the first play that he sees because he has nothing with which to compare it. In the same way a reporter cannot justly judge any kind of play until he has seen another of the same kind with which to compare it. Hence he must know many plays and must know something about the history of the theater. Dramatic criticism is relative and the critic must have a basis for his comparison.

This background of knowledge may seem a difficult thing to acquire. It is; and it can best be acquired by watching many plays with an eye for the technique of the art. The critic may judge a play from its effect upon him, but his judgment will be superficial. He must try to see what the playwright is trying to do, how well he succeeds, what tricks he employs. He must judge the work of the stage carpenter and of the costumer. He must try to realize what problem the leading lady has to face and how well she solves it. The same carefulness of judgment must be given to each member of the cast. Only when the critic is able to see past the footlights and to understand the technique of the art, can he judge intelligently. And as his judgment can be at best only relative, he must have a background of many plays and much stage knowledge upon which to base his estimate of any one production.

The ideal criticism, based upon this background of knowledge, would be absolutely fair and unprejudiced. But unfortunately this ideal cannot always be followed. Much dramatic criticism is colored by the policy of the paper that prints it. Very few critics are so fortunate as to be able to say exactly what they think about a play; they must say what the editor wants them to say. Some theatrical copy, especially write-ups of vaudeville shows, is paid for and must contain nothing but praise. Sometimes it is necessary to praise the poorest production simply because the paper is receiving so much a column for the praise. In many other cases, when the copy is not paid for, the editor often considers it only fair to give the production a little puff in return for the free press tickets. And so a large share of any reporter's dramatic criticism is reduced to selecting things that he can praise. Yet, one cannot praise in a way that is too evident; he cannot simply say "The play was good; the staging was good; the acting was good; in fact, everything was good." He must praise more cleverly and give his copy the appearance of honest criticism. Perhaps the principle is wrong, but nevertheless it exists and happy is the dramatic critic whose paper allows him to say exactly what he thinks. However, whether one may say what he thinks or must say what his editor wants him to say, he must have as his background a thorough knowledge of the stage upon which he may base a comparison or a contrast and with which he may make intelligent statements. The following illustrates what may be done with a paid report of a mediocre vaudeville show in which every act must be praised--the report was written on Monday of a week's run and is intended to induce people to see the show:

| This week's bill at ---- Vaudeville | |Theatre is dashed onto the boards by a | |very exciting act, "The Flying Martins," | |whose thrilling tricks put the audience | |in a proper state of mind for the | |sparkling and laughable program that | |follows--a state of mind that keeps its | |high pitch without a break or let-down to | |the very end of Dr. Herman's | |side-splitting electrical pranks. This | |man, who has truly "tamed electricity," | |does many remarkable things with his big | |coils and high voltage currents and plays | |many extremely funny tricks upon his row | |of "unsuspecting-handsome" young | |volunteers. | | | | The musical little playlet, "The Barn | |Dance," is very jokingly carried off by | |its Jack-of-all-Trades, "Zeke," the | |constable, and its pretty little ensemble | |song, "I'll Build a Nest for You." Many a | |young husband can get pointers on "home | |rule" from "Baseballitis;" it is a mighty | |good presentation of the "My Hero" theme | |in actual life. Hilda Hawthorne gives us | |some high-class ventriloquism with a good | |puppet song that is truly wonderful. | |There's a lot of good music, very good | |music in the sketch executed by "The | |Three Vagrants," as well as a lot of fun; | |one can hardly realize what an amount of | |melody an old accordion contains. Audrey | |Pringle and George Whiting have a hit | |that is sparkling with quick changes from | |Irish love songs to bull frog croaking | |with Italian variations. |

For the purpose of a more complete study of the subject, however, we shall consider only dramatic criticism that is not restricted by editorial dictum or by the requirements of paid-space. That is, we shall imagine that we can praise or condemn or say anything we please concerning the dramatic production which we are to report. When we look at the subject in this way there are some positive things that may be said about theatrical reporting, but there are many more negative rules, that may be reduced to mere "Don'ts." The same principles hold good in dramatic criticism that is hampered by policy, but to a less degree.

In the first place, the one thing that a dramatic reporter must have when he begins to write his copy after the performance is some positive idea about the play, some definite criticism, upon which to base his whole report. It is impossible to write a coherent report from chance jottings and to confine the report to saying "This was good; that was bad, the other was mediocre." The critic must have a positive central idea upon which to hang his criticism. This central idea plays the same part in his report as the feature in a news story--it is the feature of his report which he brings into the first sentence, to which he attaches every item, and with which he ends his report. To secure this idea, the reporter must watch the play closely with the purpose of crystallizing his judgment in a single conception, thought, or impression. Sometimes this impression comes as an inspiration, sometimes it is the result of hard thought during or after the play. It may be concerned with the theme of the play, the playwright's work, the lines, the staging, the effects, the tricks, the acting as a whole, the acting of single persons, the music, the dancing, the costumes--anything connected with the production--but the idea must be big enough to carry the entire report and to be the gist of what the critic has to say about the play. It must be his complete, concise opinion of the performance.