I did so.  That night when the paper came out everyone clamored to know who the man was, for I had merely written, “A man in town calls his wife his better judgment instead of his better half.”

Then I decided to make the society department a reflection of our daily life and sayings.  In order to get these in I used the initials of my title, “S.R.”  I never used names, but I always managed to identify my persons.

As one might expect, I brought down a storm about my head.  Many persons took the hints for themselves when they were not so intended, and there were some amusing results.  For instance, when I said in the paper that “a certain man in a down-town store has perfect manners,” the next day twelve men thanked me, and I received four boxes of candy as expressions of gratitude.

There were no complaints about the society column being dull after this; everyone read it and laughed at it, and it was quoted in many exchanges.  Of course, I was careful to hurt no one’s feelings, but I did occasionally have a little good-natured fun at the expense of people who wouldn’t mind it.  Little personal paragraphs of this sort must never be malicious or mean—­if the paper is to keep its friends.

Of all my newspaper experience I like best to dwell on the society reporting; but if I were to advance I knew that I must take on more responsibility, so I became city editor of another paper.  I was virtually managing editor, for the editor and owner was a politician and was away much of the time.  It was then that I began to realize the responsibility of my position, to grapple with the problem of dealing fairly both with my employer and the public.  The daily life with its varying incidents, the big civic issues, the stories to be handled, the rights of the advertisers to be considered, the adjusting of the news to the business department—­all these were brought before me with a powerful clarity.

When a woman starts on a city paper she knows that there are linotypes, presses and other machinery.  Often she has seen them work; but her knowledge of “how” they work is generally vague.  It was on my third day as city editor that I realized my woeful ignorance of the newspaper business from the mechanical viewpoint.  I had just arrived at the office when the foreman came to my desk.

    “Say,” he said, “we didn’t get any stuff set last night.  Power was
    off.  Better come out and pick out the plate you want to fill with.”

What he meant by the power being off I could understand, and perforce I went out to select the plate.  He handed me long slabs of plate matter to read.  Later I learned that printed copies of the plate are sent for selection, but in my ignorance I took up the slabs and tried to read the type.  To my astonishment it was all backward, and I found myself wondering if it were a Chinese feature story.  Finally I threw myself on his mercy and told him to select what he chose.  As I left the composing-room I heard him say to one of the printers:  “That’s what comes of the boss hiring a hen editor.”

    Shortly after noon a linotype operator came to me with his hands
    full of copy.