OUR OWN REPORTER.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 12, Issue 941, 9 May 1868, Page 3

OUR OWN REPORTER.

(From " Chatnbers's Journal.") Very few persons have any idea of the important part played by the reporter in modern social life. He is, as a rule, so unobtrusive, that he seldom comes under the eye of the public ; and during a recent session, when there was a slight scandal caused through the out-spokenness of one knight of the pencil, who had given his opinion respecting a noble marquis in language more emphatic than complimentary, a good many people were reminded, almost for the first time in their lives, of the existence of this large and useful body of men. Yet the reporter is übiquitous. His mission simply is to be eyes and ears for the world at large. Wherever he goes, he carries his notebook with him ; whatever he does, he keeps his business in mind, and he never forgets that hs is the servant of the public — and a very useful and important servant too. I wish I could give my reader a clear idea of the actual importance of the place held by the reporter in society. Perhaps the best way of arriving at such an idea is to imagine, if possible, what society would be without him. In the first place, there would be no record of the debates in parliament, nor any reports of "extraparliamentary utterances." Hungry politicians and excited popular leaders would have nothing to feed upon during times of agitation ; would know nothing of what was said in the Houses of Parliament beyond the vague, hearsay reports brought away by listeners in the gallery. Gladstone, and Bright, and Disraeli would all waste their eloquence upon a few hundred or thousand men ; their words would perish as they fell from their lips ; and, practically, their influence would not be greater than that, say, of the ordinary occupant of a parish pulpit. There would be no interesting " police news," opening up a hundred strange phases of life, and putting us upon our guard against a thousand modes of imposition. Great trials would be conducted almost in privacy, for our courts of justice are constructed to hold a very small number of spectators, and to allow those present the least possible observation of what is going on. Those large meetings which are sometimes held to forward great movements, and which are often the means of evoking so vast an amount of public benevolence, would no longer possess a tithe of their present influence. Country Dogberries would be allowed to play any pranks they pleased, in the name of justice, with no fear of outside opinion, and shareholders in railways or other great commercial companies would no longer have an opportunity of learning the actual position of their affairs, if they were unable to attend the half-yearly meetings, and listen to the chairman's statement. A hundred lives might be swept away by a colliery explosion, without the public knowing more than the bare fact that such a catastrophe had taken place ; another Royal Charter might go to pieces on our shores, and months elapse before the friends of the sufferers were made acquainted with their fate ; and great crimes, like the rescue of the Fenian prisoners, might be committed in our very midst without attracting the smallest notice on the part of the public. I say nothing of the loss of that " descriptive writing" which is the highest form of modern reporting ; and yet few of us would like our newspapers to be robbed of the letters of " special correspondents" — who are, after all, simply Reporters — which now enrich them. Mr. Bright never spoke truer words than when, addi'essing a meeting at Birmingham, he alluded to the reporters present as " those gentlemen to whom the cause of liberty and good government was so greatly indebted." In no department of newspaper labour has such an advance been made of late years as in reporting. There are men still living who can recall the feats of " Memory Woodfall," who carried away a column speech in his head without a siugle note to aid him ; and there are still, both in London and the country, a few reporters extant who rely solely for their note-taking upon an abbreviated long-hand. Let no one, however, suppose that the ability to report in either of these manners will assist him now to a place upon the press. The ordinary reporter's first qualification is a knowledge of some efficient system of short-hand. Unless he is able to take what is called " a full note" of au ordinarily rapid speaker, he can never hope to reach even a secondrate position in his profession ; and unless he has so complete a command over his fingers and pencil that he can make them follow the most furious and disagreeable speaker with certainty and without a break, he can never gain any of the prizes which fall to the lot of the best shorthand writers. How difficult it is to obtain such a mastery over " the stenographic demon," only those who have tried it know. Mr. Dickens — himself an experienced reporter — has given us some notion of the miseries which attend the student of short-hand in his David CopperJteld. The unhappy weight is oppressed as with a night-mare by the task ho has taken in hand. He dreams about it in his sleep, and in his waking hours it is never absent from his thoughts. At last, after months of labour, when he fondly fancies that he has mastered the crooked cipher, he essays to follow some slow-going speaker. To his horror, he finds that he cannot take down one word in four which is uttered. He must be stout-hearted, indeed, to persevere after such a failure ; but if he does so, he will find at each fresh trial that he can get a larger proportion of the speaker's words upon his note-book ; until at last ho accomplishes the great object of his ambition, and is able to take a verbatim report of some very easy orator. Then comes the second part of his task — the reading of his notes. This is even a more trying ordeal than the other. There are the notes fairly written, and evidently correct ; but what on earth do they mean p A word here and there he is able to make out, but not one single sentence in the whole speech can he translate. He is like some poor follow who, recovered from a fever, finds all knowledge of reading and writing gone from him. Unutterable are the miseries endured by the young reporter at this stage of his career ; and even to the last days of their lives, many old short-hand writers find it hard work to read their notes. All tliis is rather different from, the popular notion of short-hand writing, which is, that it is a sort of magical art, the secret of which is only known to a few happy and favoured individuals. But let us suppose that the short-hand writer has passed through his apprenticeship successfully, and is fully competent to report any ordinaiy speaker ; even then his labours have by no means ended ; indeed, they never do end whilst he continues to exercise his craft. Reporting is something more than a mere mechanical art. Mechanical skill, physical strength and endurance, it certainly does require ; but beyond these it needs, if it is to be well done, the constant exercise of a fair intelligence, and occasionally feats of memory which almost rival those of Woodfall himself. The most trying time for the reporter is when he has to take a full note of the remarks of a very rapid speaker. Then his labours are greater almost than he can endure. I have known men

of my acquaintance made ill for days after reporting ceitain abominable public speakers. Two gentlemen of great talent, and no doubt in other respects justly estimable, are, in particular, the horror of all reporters who have once encountered them, bickness, palpitation of the heart, and utter physical prostration have followed the noting down of fheir addresses, delivered with a jerky rapidity, which, though not unpleasant to listen to, is simply frightful to report. Happily, -neither of these eminent men sits in the House of Commons ; but in Sir George Grey, Mr. Lowe, and Mr. W. E. Forster, the parliamentary reporters have to deal with men whose- speeches it is scarcely less difficult to record fully and faithfully. The rapidity with "which these statesmen speak must be simply an incurable bad habit ; for they could never willingly inflict upon ' fellow-creatures the positive pain which many of the reporters who take down their words have to suffer. Against such speakers as I have named, however, we must put men like Mr. Bright, Mr Gladstone, and Mr. Disraeli. To a competent short-hand writer, nothing is more delightful than the task of reporting these men. They speak clearly, deliberately, and calmly. Every word that they utter is distinctly pronounced, and nothing is lost by the reporters. In fact, these gentlemen, to use a cant phrase, speak to be reported ; and I have known Mr. Bright, in the heat of a public meeting, when the last word of his sentence has been lost in the ringing cheers of the audience, quietly repeat that word to the reporters sitting beneath him. No wonder that he is a favourite with the " gallery." When a reporter has taken a full note of a speech, he is often asked by some interested observer, whether he merely hands his book to the printer, and leaves him to translate the short-hand into plain Homan type. Most devoutly does he express in answer to such a question the wish that he did. The fact, however, is that his most tedious work comes after the short-hand writing has ceased. Then he has to repair to his office, and there transcribe the whole of his notes, or such portions of them as may be needed for the paper. He must correct the errors in grammar or fact of the speaker ; and if he is a competent reporter, he will give the written speech a finish and elegance of style which in most cases it wants when spoken. The time allowed for this task is four times as great as that taken by the speaker ; so that a speech which has occupied one hour in delivery, will take four to transcribe. I ought to mention that in the case of the government short-hand writers — those employed on Gurnoy's staff — a different system is pursued. There, a certain portion of the staff is trained to write shorthand, and the remainder to read it. .During the session, the note-books of the official reporters are collected from the committee-rooms three or four times a day, and are given to the writing-out staff, who manage to translate the crabbed hieroglyphics of their colleagues with remarkable accuracy. Still, many and many a blunder is made both by these readers of short-hand and by the ordinary reporters, which cause those whoso words are thus misrepresented to gnash their teeth with agony. "Partner in the works," becomes "pauper in the workhouse." " Attenders at clubs in the West End," mentioned in a speech of Mr. Bright's, appears the next morning as " vendors of gloves." " What do the Italians want P" cried one impassioned orator. " They want to be a nation." " What do the Italians want P" said the report next morning. " They want to bo in Asia." " Died from recent hasniorrhage," the verdict returned by a jury on the body of a woman, is transformed into, " Died from her recent marriage ;" evidently the blunder of some very misanthropic bachelor reporter. These are a few out of man} 1 - instances of mis-read notes which have come under my own knowledge. They shew that short-hand writers, like other men, are not infallible. But the mere taking down of speeches forms by no means the only work of the reporter. In London, whilst parliament is sitting, the reporters of the different morning papers have, to bo sure, little else to do but record the long debates in " the House." During the recess, however, thej r have other and more varied employment ; and provincial reporters have at all times a much greater variety of work than their brethren in the capital. There are the trials of prisoners to be attended ; the police-court to be looked after; flowershows, bazaars, accidents, crimes, races, religious festivals, all to be recorded. It is necessary that the reporter should have some sort of knowledge about all these things, to enable him to write with any amount of satisfaction to himself or his readers. Indeed, like Lord Brougham, he must be a walking encyclopaedia, and should, above all things, be up to every kind of slang, from that of the turf to that of the pulpit. In London, the work is given over to different hands. " Liners " do the police-courts, fires, inquests, and accidents ; regular turf-reporters do the racing-news ; and the descriptive writers of the staff' attend to the more important occurrences — such as a review at Brighton or the Derby. There is thus little left but the ordinary routine of short-hand writing for the regular reporter. In the country, however, and especially in the smaller towns, the reporter is Jaek-of-all-trades ; and he has, besides, a responsibility on his shoulders from which his happier metropolitan brother is entirely free. He is required to " take charge " of the town in which he is stationed ; in other words, he is held responsible if he misses any accident or meeting, or indeed any event of interest which may take place in it. Under these circumstances, he has even an eye to such small items as a petty larceny or a runaway hoi - se, and the keenness of his scent for a murder is absolutely awful. Capital stories are .told of the different varieties of provincial reporters, especially of those of the old school, which is now, happily, passing away. There is the frightfully eager reporter, who is always on duty, never forgetting his mission. One worthy of this class was roused from his slumbers one night by a disturbance on his doorstep. His alarmed spouse compelled him to descend and see what the matter was, and on opening the door, lie discovered a man stretched across the threshold in a fit. " Mary, Mary !" cried he to his better-half, " bring my note-book and a candle directly ; here's a paragraph come to the door !" Such eagerness for work as this shows itself in different forms. An enterprising reporter had hoard that Lord Palnierston was to be present at an archery meeting in a small country village in Hampshire, and he accordingly posted down to tho place, and, like Mr. Micawber, waited for something to turn up. Lord Palmerston's task was to distribute prizes to some half-dozen blushing young ladies, and tho whole company present didn't number much above a score. His Lordship performed his task with his usual grace and good-humour, I daresay giving the young ladies a paternal pat on the head, bxit making only tho most commonplace observations. Our stenographer waited anxiously in his place until, to his horror, he saw tho proceedings brought to a close without a speech from the Premier. This was more than ho could stand. He ruslicd from his corner to tho noble Lord, who

( was getting out of the room as fast as he , could. "My Lord — I beg your pardon, but really this won't do." " What do you mean, sir p" was the reply of the astonished statesman. " Why, you've made no speech : I've como all the way from London to report it, and I must have a speech of some sort." Whereupon, it is on record — and this stoiy is a true one — that the good-tempered old gentleman turned back, and detained the retreating audience for twenty minutes, whilst ho gave them a genial dissertation on the good qualities.of English women in general, and of Hampshire lasses in particular. On another occasion, however, he made up for this complaisance. ■ He was attending an agricultural dinner, and saw a large gathering of reporters, for the times were critical, and a speech of his certain to bo valuable. But he had made up his mind not to speak — no man knew better when to hold his tongue — and accordingly he slily sent down to the " gentlemen of the press" a slip of paper on which, in his bold round hand, were written the words : " This fish won't bite !" After the eager reporter conies tlie flowery one, who has always been particularly great in small provincial towns, and who has at his command a stock of adjectives enough to make Lord Macaulay hide his diminished head. This gentleman is in his glory at a flower-show, an execution, a funeral, or, in fact, whenever he has an opportunity of murdering the Queen's English. One specimen of the school, when writing about a flower-show — which is always "a horticultural and floral display" — said that itwas "illumined by cart-loads of sunshine." Another — a Liverpool worthy — in giving an account of somebody's funeral, observed that "the body of the deceased gentleman was followed to the grave by a silent and deeply sympathising audience." I have heard of a paragraph which, with forcible redundancy, was entitled " Funeral of the remains of a late deceased military officer ; " and I have seen an account of a pennyreading wound up with the remark that " the entertainment was, upon the whole, the most mirth-provoking and soul-stirring which could be had for the money!" The worst thing about the flowery reporter is, that he has done so much to injure the English language. If he can find a fine word to express the same meaning as a plain one, he never hesitates to cast aside the latter ; and if he hears of any barbarous invention of our transatlantic cousins, he straightway makes a note of it, and carefully makes use of it at the very first opportunity. His ideas, too, of the meaning of certain words are somewhat hazy. Thus, a fatal accident is constantly spoken of by him as "a fatality," and his adjectives are applied in such a haphazard' fashion that they might almost have been scattered over his " copy " with a peppercaster. The quantity of bad French and Latin, too, which ho lugs into all he ■writes, equals that made use of by a fashionable authoress twenty years ago. He has almost naturalised some foreign words amongst us, and has given many a slang term a permanent place in our language. Upon the whole, he is the most objectionable representative of the reporter's craft to be met with now-a-days. The dissipated reporter belongs to quite another school . He was at one time too common both in town aud country. Even now, he has not entirely disappeared ; but, thanks to the improvement which has taken place amongst pressmen generally, he is no longer looked upon as a type of the entire profession. In tho good old days, however, every Eatanswill had a Tom Potts who was the glory of its barparlours, and the oracle of its market ordinaries. Poor jovial old Tom Potts ! you were a sad dog in your day: seldom sober; with no high notions of the dignity of your calling, but with a strong inclination towards the cold meat and strong beer of those towards whom you ought to have preserved "' an attitude of dignified impartiality." But you did your work on the whole faithfully and honestly, by no means disdaining, when news was scarce and your pencil at rest, to " fill up your time at case," or scour the town in search of advertisements. One Tom Potis of my acquaintance, after many a hairbreath 'scape, came at last to an untimely end by falling across a door-step, and cutting his throat on the sharp iron foot-scraper. Of another, it is related that, upon one occasion when walking by the Thames, he fell in and disappeared beneath its waters. Friends came up, but could see nothing of him ; one, however, wiser or better acquainted with his habits than the rest, seized a pint-pot, which some one in the party happened to have, and stretched it over the water at the end of a long pole. There was a moment's suspense, aud then a hand raised from the river towards the glistening pewter. " Ah," said the knowing friend, " I knew Tom couldn't resist that;" and straightway he plunged in and brought him out. Peace bo to the ashes of the entire race. One cannot think of their failings without a kindly feeling; but they were a sad, disreputable set, and wo may be thankful that their own favourite vices have killed them off so fast. I might extend this paper to an illimitable length with reminiscences of different reporters in town and countiy, and with repetitions of the many good stories current regarding them. £Tot to transgress, however, upon the patience of the most forbearing of editors, let me briefly describe the ordinary career of a reporter. He begins life most probably as the "devil" in sonic small weekly paper office; is taught short-hand by the Tom Potts of the establishment ; and when the latter has succumbed to innumerable- " goes " of whisky, succeeds to his post. From tho weekly paper he works his way to one of the loss important dailies ; and from it in turn he passes to Edinburgh, Leeds, Manchester, or Liverpool, where the reporters arc in all respects the equals of their metropolitan brethren. Possibly, he settles down now for life, rising in due time to a sub-editorship, or perhaps to the editorship of a small paper of his own. Generally, however, the prospect of easier work and better pay draws him to London, whore he gains a place in the " gallery," from which, it has been well said, he can rise to anything.