Flings at Things.
Maoriland Worker, Volume 3, Issue 88, 22 November 1912, Page 1
Flings at Things.
Ever heard of Frank Morton? He's a, freelance journalist who afflicts the long-suffering newspaper readers of this Dominion with his views upon every conceivable subject under the sun. He's the Sir Oracle of Presedom, and when he dips goose-quill in ink prepare for a deluge of drivel. He's a very fatherly old scribbler — quite grandfatherly, in fact. Chides and advisee all and sundry in manner like unto paterfamilias rebuking his recalcitrant offspring. Contributes to the "Wanganui Chronicle" for its Saturday issue a column or two of stodge under the heading of "The Week, the World, and Wellington." "The Maunder ings of Morton" would be a more appropriate caption. Breaks out now and again with a cheap sneer or two at the Federation of Labor. Gave his paternal admonitions an airing on November 9. Opined that "Evidences multiply that the Waihi foolishness has oome to its destined end. "On Saturday we had a dying spurt of disorderliness, with the truly diverting spectacle of Mr. Robert Semple running from the police and climbing over a fence." The truth of this accusation against Semple is open to doubt —but Mr. Frank Morton wouldn't have run and climbed over a fence if the mounted police had attempted to ride him down. Oh, no! Of course not. He'd have stood his ground, Ike the brave shadow-sparrer and paper fighter he is, and have let the ticopers ride over his mangled, prostrate form ere lie would have budged an inch aid made a bolt for safety. You bet he would 1 We don't think 1 We'll quote some more of the maudlin Mortonese. Continues he: "The Federation of Labor comes out of the thing with an irreparably bad reputation. "The Red Federation is proved to be a malignant body that fattens on the body and blood of the working-class. "Mr. Robert Semple, as principal sucking mouth of the Red Federation vampire, has earned the contempt of the whole intelligent section of the pub: lie. ! "Some poor fools he m ay still contrive to hoodwink; but , his. day is over, because by the average man ho is now perfectly well known. "While these misguided miner 3 have been getting lean on strike pay, Mr. Robert Semple has lived fatly by inducing the miners to make foofs of themselves. "The women may pine and the children go hungry, but the Robert Semples of this present evil world' are not out on any starvation business." Did you ever read such drivel P * « « Lived fatly? This Frank Morton—a sleek, well-fed, well-groomed pen-pusher—has the colos« sal effrontery t<3 affirm that Semple has "lived fatly" by gulling the miners. If you saw'the two men side by side, you could pick the man who had the softest job and lived the fattest without a moment's hesitation. You could pick him even with a bandage over your blinkers—if you bad any sense of touch at all. And it wouldn't be Semple. Not much. * • # Mr. Frank Morton says that Semple has earned the contempt of the whole intelligent) section of the public. Go to, thou inflated bladder of nothingness I Semple's name is honored throughout the length and breadth of these islands by the workers, and will be higher honored in the ages to oome. Morton's name is Mud even now, and when he has departed hence it will be as if he had never existed. He will leave as marked an impression on the life and thought of his day as one who dips his finger therein makes a permanent hole in a bucket of water. This Mr. Frank Morton may be all very well as a chronicler of small beer and the gossip of the tea-room, an expert in feminine frills and fal-lals, or a
poetaster inditing a sonnet to the eyebrow or the shell-pink ear of one of the numerous Lady-loves of his poetical fancy, but as a writer or an author* ity on Things That Beally Matter he "cuts no ice," to use a phrase from the classics. He really wasn't worth all the space we've devoted to him, but the adamantine self-assuranoe of such a journalistic know-all is apt to ruffle even the mofll tolerant and forbearing of mortals, bo we must be excu&ed for bringing him so prominently into the limelight. If we have bored our readers by the infliction upon them of bo much Morton, we trust they will overlook the offence on this occasion. N-uff sed.