Jasper County Democrat, Volume 12, Number 99, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 March 1910 — Page 6

In “The Fourth Estate” the effectiveness of newspapers in fearlessly exposing political and judicial corruption and the safeguard they are to the public are interestingly and convincingly set forth. A young, earnest newspaper writer and editor is the central figure, and his battles with a dishonest United States judge against bigodds and against the cunningly underhanded machinations of the lawyer lobbyist Dupuy form one of the most valuable as well as most entertaining pieces of fiction of the day. That the false judge’s daughter, the reigning beauty in the fashionable life of a leading city, should play a sensational part in this gripping story of strong honest men and of strong dishonest men, fighting each other in a war of dollars, evidences the romantic possibilities of the narrative. This is a story of today's America, a fact story torn out of life's book, dealing with the most vital issues that confront every one of us. Romance and humor vie with stirring action for supremacy in this instructive and fascinating novel, which teaches that the path of duty is the path io love and happiness and that in success, nobly won, lie rewards of greater and more lasting value than in a triumph ignobly and more easily gained.

CHAPTER I. Burke said there were three estates In parliament, but in the reporters’ gallery yonder there sat a Fourth Estate more Important far than they all. —Carlyle. BIIE silence in the managing editor’s room of the Daily Advance was abruptly broken by the entrance of Ross McHenry through a private door. His eighteen years of active newspaper work in a career extending from cub reporterhood to his present important office had drilled Into him the necessity, even the habit, of constant action, quick thought, keen and accurate perception and readiness for emergencies. He hastily threw off his coat, glanced at several papers laid on bis desk while he was out at dinner and seated himself in his managerial chair. He wrote a few rapid words on a pad of paper at his right hand as he pushed a button with his left to summon an office boy. ’ “Any one here while 1 was gone?” McHenry queried sharply as the boy entered. “Yes, sir. Woman whose boy was pinched wants to keep it out of th’ paper. Been outside two hours. She's slttin’ outside an’ bawls an’ bawls an' bawls.” “Tell her we’re printing a newspaper and I’ve left for the night." “Then there was a few phone calls. We bandied ’em all ’cept th’ last. He

"What'd you tell him?"

THE FOURTH ESTATE

The Fourth Estate

was a man named Nolan, an’ be wanted ter see you.” McHenry immediately became interested. “What’d you tell him?” be asked, rising. “That you was to th’ theayter.” The managing editor picked up a Congressional Directory and shied it forcibly at the lad. “Well, next time, young man, you tell him I’ve lust stepped to the

Novelized by FREDERICK R. TOOMBS From the Great Play of the Same Name by Joseph Medill Patterson and Harriet Ford. & & COPYRIGHT, 1909. BY JOSEPH MEDILL PATTERSON AND HARRIET FORD.

night editor’s room. Nolan; remember his name—Nolan. He’s the new owner.” “Cheese it, another owner. Nobody keeps us long, do they?” “No,” responded McHenry laconically. “Like certain other luxuries, nobody keeps us long. We’re too expensive, Durkin.” The boy grinned and hurried away to summon the night editor at McHenry’s command and to dispose of the “bawling" woman. McHenry seated himself and turned to the ever ready telephone at the right hand corner of his desk: “Hello, Miss Stowe! Get me Mr. Nolan—Mr. Michael Nolan—on the wire right away.” As the managing editor bung up the receiver Moore, the night editor, entered carrying a bundle of galley proofs in his left hand, a schedule in his right. “Well, Moore, what have you got for part 1?” asked McHenry. The night editor repeated rapidly In a dead flat monotonous voice: “Thirty-five columns of ads. Telegraph editor’s hollering for twenty columns. He just got a couple of nice flashes—one from Pittsburg about a man eloping with his daughter-in-law; very fine people. Another first class murder from St. Louis. Local has twenty-six scheduled, sports are very heavy, bowling, fights, checkers, and Kentucky’s shut down on racing; they want two pages. We’ve got a tip that Morgan has the asthma. Steel will probably open soft on Monday.” McHenry took down the telephone receiver and held it expectantly at his ear. He took the proofs from Moore’s hand and began looking them over. They contained Important articles which had been set up, but which he had not previously seen. “Hello, there’s a live one,” he suddenly exclaimed, glancing over one of

McHenry turned to the telephone.

tne sheets. “Bill, I’d like to run that one. Senator Deering dead yet?” “No, not yet.” The managing editor was disgusted. “Pshaw!” be exclaimed. “I’ll bet the old codger dies for the afternoon papers. We’re having rotten luck lately.” The telephone rang. “Hello! Who’s this?” cried McHenry savagely. But bis voice changed abruptly to its most sugary tones. “Oh, Mr. Nolan, this is Mr, McHenry. Yes; why, the boy said I’d gone to the theater. He’s new to newspaper offices. Yes, indeed. He doesn’t know we newspaper men have little time for theaters—no, indeed—ha. ha! I was downstairs in the press room all the time—yes. Indeed; trouble with the roller on cylinder 5 of the color press, and I happen to have a bit of a mechanical turn of mind—yes, indeed. Anything I can do for you, sir? Hope we may have the pleasure of showing you over the office—your office—pretty I soon. Yes. sir. Tonight? Yes. any I time. We’re always here. Yes. sir. | Thank you.” He hung up the receiver and re-

verted to his natural voice. “It’s the new boss, Moore. ’S coming down tonight” “I wonder If that means more changes?” observed the night editor as he filled his pipe. McHenry sighed. “Ain’t a man who gets into this business a sucker?” The night editor smiled grimly. “Wonder what kind of a joke is this Nolan anyway?” he asked. The night editor’s brow wrinkled. “All I know is that he’s a Colorado miner with a hill of ore all his own.” He glanced over the night editor’s schedule. “What is this T—T—golf or politics?” “Taft—both; golf 2 down—conference Vith Aldrich.” McHenry snorted. •“Gosh, the White House is dead since Teddy left!" He pointed to the schedule. “What’s this? ‘Baltimore, one column.* ” “Double divorce. They exchanged partners.” “Good people?” “Not much.” “Fifty words ’ll be enough. Dead heavy—stupid paper,” grunted the man aging editor. McHenry rang for the boy, Durkin, and on his belated arrival sent him to summon the city editor. “What you got?” saluted McHenry as the editor arrived. Downs, the city editor, went straight to the point. “Are you going to use that follow up story about Judge Bartelmy throwing

the Lansing Iron company into a receivership?” he queried. “1 dunno. Any kicks on this morning's story?” “I should say yes telephone going all day.” McHenry turned and pounded the desk with his 4&st. “If they kicked on that they'd get our jobs on this.” He pointed at the proof of the new Bartelmy story which he had

taken from Moore. “All the same, the judicial ermine is getting rather soiled these days. It makes me sore to think of what they’re pulling off on the federal bench. He’s bad all through, that Bartel my. Whose story is it— Brand’s?” “Yep,” responded the city editor. “By heaven, he Is a newspaper man.” “That’s why he won’t last in this office,” put in Moore sarcastically. “Yep,” supplemented the city editor. McHenry’s face took on a resigned expression as he said: “Well, we’ll have to pass It up.” He paused. “It’s likely to be libelous.” He laid aside the proof sheet and resumed his perusal of the schedule of articles Intended to be used in the next morning’s paper. “How about divorces?” McHenry asked suddenly, raising his head to the city editor. “The Satrup divorce Is up again. Two new corespondents named." He pointed them out among the photos. McHenry drew a few lines on one of the photos and rang for the boy. “Bring me an artist, Durkin,” he ordered. The artist soon appeared. “Here,” spoke up the managing editor, “take these corespondents and run ’em with the two you had yesterday, but fix those up different Put a hat on one and the other in low neck, and put Sarrup himself in the middle with a dado of hearts around.” McHenry changed hla mind. “No; make it a big question mark of cuplda and the caption ‘Which of These Women Does This Man Love?* Yes, and frame In his wife too. Three columns.” “Yes, sir,” responded the artist Malting away with the photos. But McHenry called him back. “Hey!” he cried. “Make that ‘Which of These Beautiful Women Does This Man Love?” The artist bowed in acquiescence and escaped. <

"Double divorce. They exchanged partners.”

McHenry took up another photograph. “Ha. what a beauty!” be said enthusiastically. “What’s she been doing?” “She is Judith Bartelmy, the judge’s daughter. She gave a reception today,” answered Downs, the city editor. “High society all there as usual, I suppose?” mused McHenry. “The Bartelmys are an old family, and they’ve held on to some of their money. Here, Downs,” he went on, “play her up for two—no, three columns. Maybe it will square it with the judge for what we did to him In the paper this morning. You explain to an artist” -f “All right” “The new boss, Nolan, is coming down to look us over tonight” added McHenry. “Wonder where we’ll all be working next week?” was the city editor’s reply over his shoulder as he quickly made his exit. The boy came in and laid a card on the managing editor’s desk. “Miss Judith Bartelmy!” exclaimed McHenry as he glanced at it. “Well, what do you think of that. Moore?” “It’s a kick sure, and’’— “By the way,” Interjected McHenry deliberately, “this girl, Judith Bartelmy, isn’t she engaged to Wheeler Brand?”

“Seems to me I’ve heard something of the sort,” assented Moore vaguely. “Well, same here, and Brand wrote that story this morning showing up her father, the judge, as a trickster of the worst, most dangerous sort. Now the girl comes to this office—probably to defend her dad. Say. Moore”—the managing editor was becoming excited —“things are getting warm around here. Brand certainly had his nerve with him to hand such a roast to his prospective father-in-law.”

McHenry turned abruptly to one side and reached for his coat, which he quickly donned. “Show her in,” he called to the boy. Moore hastily retreated from the room as Judith Bartelmy entered, leaving the judge's daughter alone with the managing editor. McHenry had long flattered himself that he had met many attractive women in his time, but as he rose to meet Judith Bartelmy and surveyed this fashionably gowned young woman he made a mental note that she surpassed them all. Her blond features were of distinctly patrician cast. Her blue eyes had the magnetic qualities so envied by the many less fortunate women, and the pure whiteness of her finely curved chin and neck was advantageously revealed by the low cut collar of her princess gown of wine colored silk which clung to a figure that celebrated artists had pronounced unusual in its symmetry. “I desire to complain about the article attacking my father this morning,” the girl began. “Yes?” answered McHenry. “I wish an apology for It” “Is this a message from your father?’

“That’s not the point. This is the first time in his life that any one has ventured to question his honor. The article is false, and I think your paper should apologize for it immediately.’? * “Before saying as to that,” returned the managing editor, “I should have to refer the matter to the new proprietor, Mr. Nolan. You know it is not customary for a newspaper to take back what It says.” The judge’s daughter raised her eyebrows in surprise as she drew close to McHenry’s desk, where he had resumed his seat.

“I should think you’d have a good many lawsuits,” she suggested. “Oh, no; not many. We go up to the line, but we try not to step over it” He picked up several newspapers from his desk. “For instance”—scanning the papers—“l don’t think your father will feel inclined to sue us.” He rose as if to end the interview. Judith, however, was not to be thus disposed off. “I don’t want to detain you.” she remarked, “but I should like to ask you who was responsible for that article.” She seated herself in a chair which McHenry indicated. “We never tell the name of our writers," answered the managing editor. Her father had diplomatically suggested to her that Wheeler Brand might have written the story. This she found difficult to believe. But she must be convinced, and one of her motives in visiting the newspaper had been to ask him—to ask him to tell her that be was not the author of the new attack on her father. She must see him and learn the truth from his lips alone. “Is Mr. Brand in the office now?’ she asked. “Yes, 1 think so.” “Would it be possible for me to see him?” “Why, ? eß ’ H a you wish. I’ll send for him.” McHenry summoned the boy and told him to “ask Mr. Brand to come in." “We’ve noticed”—she hesitated—“all his friends have noticed that he’s becoming very radical lately-” Judith rose from the chair and stepped nerv-

ously toward the editor’s desk. “Oh,” he laughed, “they all get that when they’re young, like the measles.” “And that's something they all get over, isn’t it?” she asked eagerly. “Yes,” responded McHenry, stirring as though to leave the room. Judith stepped squarely in front of his desk. “But I don’t want to disturb you. Can’t I go to his office?” ‘He hasn’t got any office, and they’re all bunched in the local room in their shirt sleeves smoking. You wouldn’t like it. We haven’t a reception room." McHenry laughed as he spoke. In his shirt sleeves, rolled to his elbows, with quick steps and squared shoulders. Wheeler Brand, one of the ablest men on the city staff of the Advance, strode into the office of the managing editor through the door leading from the city and telegraph rooms. “Yes. Fir." he greeted McHenry. Th m lie stopped short both in <his . ;>« ami in Ins speech. He had > •! rht of the managing editor’s "Why. Judith!” he gasped. -von’s name are you doing I \t this point words failed t . ..:»<! h»» >«>d staring at her,’ with i;:> I. «• < heaving violently as the reof hts surprise. The giri was also deeply disturbed in spite of her previous knowledge that she was to be confronted by the man she loved.

McHenry thought that the moment had arrived when his presence was no longer necessary. “Miss Bartelmy has asked to see you for a few minutes,” he said, rising and starting toward a door. “You may talk here.” A handful of proof sheets rustled in his grasp as he disappeared. Wheeler Brand started ’ tbward the girl. “Is there anything the matter?” he queried anxiously. She hesitated before answering. Then she spoke determinedly. * “Yes; two things. First, you did not tome to my reception this afternoon; secondly, there Is that article about father this morning.” “I couldn’t get off from the office to attend the reception, and I am awfully sorry.” he protested. “But as for the story about your father—well, did he send yon here?” “No. he didn’t send me. But 1 couldn’t help seeing how disturbed he was. and”— “Then he knew you were coming?” “Why, yes." Judith was trying hard

"I wrote it, Judith," he announced.

to understand what he meant by seeking out her father’s knowledge of her present mission, one which was to her decidedly unpleasant Wheeler was plainly impressed, and unfavorably so, at the girl’s reply. “Oh!” he ejaculated disappointedly. The quickly thinking girl detected the significant tone of the newspaper writer’s reply and hastened to explain. “I heard my father say at dinner that he feared there would be another attack tomorrow,” she said, “and I hoped through you to prevent its publication and to make the Advance apologize for what it said this morning. 1 don’t see how your paper dares to publish such things.” “But, Judltlj,” he answered, “we couldn’t dodge a story as big as that. We had to print it. That’s what we’re here for.” I But she was still insistent “Oh, of course, print the story, but I mean the Insinuation all through. Why, by using such unfair means newspapers can bring discredit on any one. Mr. McHenry refused to apologise. He wouldn’t even tell me who wrote it. Do you know?’ Brand gave a violent start At first In her present mood, he hardly dared answer the girl With a determined effort he pulled himself together and answered her question. “Yes. 1 know who wrote it” I

“Who?" Judith leaned toward him, gazing intently into his eyes. “I wrote it,” he announced. Judith started back aghast “You, Wheeler? Why?” she cried hysterically. “I had no choice.” He struggled to maintain his grip on himself. “You had no choice?" “Judith, when this Lansing Iron case first broke loose,” Brand responded firmly, “I saw straight off that it was one of the slickest—well, that there was a big story in it 1 didn’t know your father was involved in this at first I just followed the path, and when I saw where it was leading me I wanted to turn back because of you, but I couldn’t” He stopped for a moment then went on: “No, no. I could not stop—not—even—for—you!” “But It isn’t loyal of you," was her response. “It wasn’t like you—to attack him suddenly in this way. It’s almost as if you struck him from behind. And do you not see, Wheeler, that you are hurting me as much as you injure him? I am his daughter, Wheeler, and if you ruin my father you will ruin me.” She covered her face with her hands, and her bosom heaved convulsively in her anguish.

(To Be Continued.)

Chicago to Northwe4, Indianapolis, Cincinnati and the South, Louisville and French Lick Springe. RENSSELAER TIME TABLE. In Effect March 7, 1909. , .. SOUTH BOUNQ. ■' <o.3l—Fast Mall 4:45 ■, No. 6—Louisville Mall (dally) 16’55 a m. No.33—lnd'polls Mall (tally)" 1:69 £ Si <o.39—Milk accomm (dally).. 4:02 n tn NORTH BOUND. <o. 4—Mall (daily) 4.(9 > m N°-40—-Milk accomm. (daily) 7:81 a. m No.S2 —Rast Mall (dally) 10.05 a. m. No.B—Mall and Ex. (dally).. 5:1? p. X No.3o—Cln. to ChL Ves. Mall 0:02 p. m. No. 4 will stop at Rensselaer to let Points south of Monon, and take passengers for Lowen. Hammond and Chicago. Nos. 81 and 33 make direct connection at Monon for Lafayette. FRANK J. REED, O. P. A.. W. H. McDOEL, Pres, and Gen’l Mgr., CHAS. H. ROCKWELL, Traffic Mgr* _ Chicago. W. H. BEAM, Agent Rensselaer.

OFFICIAL- DIRECTORY. CITY OFFICERS. Mayor g. F. Meyers Marshal ..J. R. Clerk. ...••••• .Chas. Morlen Treasurer R. d. Thompson Attorney Mose Leopold Civil Engineer L. C. Klosterman J ’ J - Montgomery Fire Warden c. B. Stewart Councilmen. Ist’ Ward George Hopkins 2nd Ward Elzle Grow 3rd Ward Frank Kresler At Large C. J. Dean, A. O. Catt

* JUDICIAL. Circuit Judge Charles W. Hanley Prosecuting Attorney Fred LongweU Terms of Court—Second Monday in February, April, September and November. Four week terms.

COUNTY OFFICERS. Clerk.. Charles C. Warner Sheriff Louis P. Shlrer Auditor .......James N. Leatherman Treasurer j. d. A Ilmen Recorder j. w. Tilton Surveyor w. F. Osborne Coroner W. J. Wright Supt Public 5ch0015..... Ernest Lamson County Assessor ....John Q. Lewis Health Officer K N. Loy COMMISSIONERS. Ist District JohnePettet 2nd District Frederick Waymire 3rd District Charles T. Dentam Commissioners’ Court—First Monday of each mon|h.

COUNTY BOARD OF EDUCATION. Trustees Township Wm. Folgar Baruey Charles May Caroenter J. W. Selmer ...TTjESSs Hanging Grove Tunis Snip Weener John Shlrer suudmlMO Edward Farkison Merton George L. Parks ........Milroy ®- J ' I 5?? e C Newton &D. Clark. Wheatfield Fred Kerch Walker ®rnest Lamson, Co. Bupt.... .Rensselaer B. C. English, Rensselaer James H. Green ..Remington Geo. O. Stembel ..Wheatfield Truant Officer..C. B. Stewart Rensselaer

TRUSTEES’ CARDS. JORDAN TOWNSHIP. The undersigned trustee of Jordan Township attends to official business at his residence on the First and Third Wednesday of each month. Persons having business with me will please govern themselves accordingly. Poetoffice address, Rensselaer, Ind., R-R-4. W. H. WORTLEY, Trustee. NEWTON TOWNSHIP. The undersigned trustee of Newton township attends to official business at his residence on the ''First and Third Thursdays of each month. Persons having business with me will please govern themselves accordingly. Postoffice address, Rensselaer, Ind., R-R-» E. P. LANE, Trustee. UNION TOWNSHIP. The undersigned trustee of Union township attends to official hr—in sea at his store in Fair Oaks on Fridays oC each week. Persons having twin tee Oaks, Indiana. IgAAcEfalCTr CROWDS I tress. A safe and pleasing syrap—toe. Druggist*.