Last Week, I Had To Offer My

It Is Impossible For Me To Estimate How Many Of My Early Impressions Of The World, Correct And The Opposite, Came To Me Through Newspapers. Homicide, Adultery, No-hit Pitching, And Balkanism Were Concepts That, Left To My Own Devices, I Would Have Encountered Much Later In Life.

It Is An Anomaly That Information, The One Thing Most Necessary To Our Survival As Choosers Of Our Own Way, Should Be A Commodity Subject To The Same Merchandising Rules As Chewing Gum.

The Pattern Of A Newspaperman's Life Is Like The Plot Of 'black Beauty.' Sometimes He Finds A Kind Master Who Gives Him A Dry Stall And An Occasional Bran Mash In The Form Of A Christmas Bonus, Sometimes He Falls Into The Hands Of A Mean Owner Who Drives Him In Spite Of Spavins And Expects Him To Live On Potato Peelings.the Sunday World Was A Dry-stall Interlude In My Wanderings.

The Fighter (like The Writer) Must Stand Alone. If He Loses He Cannot Call An Executive Conference And Throw Off On A Vice President Or The Assistant Sales Manager. He Is Consequently Resented By Fractional Characters Who Cannot Live Outside An Organization.

A City With One Newspaper... Is Like A Man With One Eye, And Often The Eye Is Glass.