Rensselaer Journal, Volume 12, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 October 1902 — Our Man About Town [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Our Man About Town

discourses on Many Subjects and Relates Sundry and Other Incidents.

A prominent citizen strolled into the sanctum the other eve after the oompositors had gone home and the devil had fallen into his regular evening doze. He passed the time o’night and sat down for a quite chat with the man who deals .in printed says. “What an old fake Mr. Blank is!” exclaimed the citizen after he had chatted about indifferent matters. “Yes?” inquired the knight of the scissors. “You know he is. Why don’t you treat the public'to a little information about his private and publicsaffairs—call him down a little.” “Well, we don’t care to attack a man’s principles so long as they don’t injure us. And again th£ Journal never prints personal thrusts.” “But look what a fake the fellow is.” “Yes.” “Write him up.”, The editor thought a moment then drawing a batch of copy to him he began to shove his pencil swiftly over the virgin grayness of the dusty page. The visitor interrupted the good work from time to time by putting in especial warm shots as “his character is not above reproach,” “he has been known for a trickster for years,” “his business methods are despicable,” “everybody bates him,” etc. After a few prolonged chewings of the pencil the editor came to a standstill with a “I guess that will hold him for awhile.”

“Read it,” remarked the citizen. The editor read the article over to the decided praise and appreciation of the visitor. “Its just fine commented the latter —there where you pall him a ‘decimated evidence of a man whose imbecility’—how does it go?” The editor again read obligingly. “ ‘This decimated evidence of a man whose imbeoility has caused his friends business losses innumerable is showing his teeth again. No doubt he has another petty dose of scurrility to hide behind while he employs his old methods against the public, etc.’ ” “That’s it,” said the visitor. “When will it go in?” “Next week’s issue.” “Good, I’ll watoh for it.” “Let’s see; what are your initials?” asked the editor. “Why—what do you want?” “Why, I intended to sign your name or initials.” “Oh, no; I wouldn’t sign to that.” "You wouldn’t? I thought you said the article was alright and the truth.” “It is of course, but ” “But you want the editor to stand for it, eh? Now my friend the Journal is not given to publishing personal thrusts. We could fill our columns with grievances if we wanted to, but we are not in that kind of business. When we have an opinion to uphold we try to do it in a gentlemanly manner. You wouldn’t stand for thiq article of course; neither would I. All unsigned. articles in this paper are credited directly to the editor; he stands good for all that appears in his sheet. Neither reporter nor devil nor dootor of laws is responsible for the policy of the articles that appear unless they are personally signed by each. If you want that charge in the paper, sign it.” The visiter changed the subject, and the editor smiled quietly at the little lesson he had taught. V This is a fable—a fable with its scenery laid in Rensselaer. There are no apologies dne Mr. Ade. Once there was a gang of yonng and very ente maidens and they all knew more than their fathers and their mothers and

their uncles and aunts for a whole generation or so. They were nioe in a way but the “weigh” was not above a hundred pounds twelve ounces and sixteen years. They were just old enough to begin to realize that there are rosy possibilities on earth and every possibility leads to Rome and Adonis, or to use another useful word, Eros. They liked to congregate on the streets of nights and tell each other how nice it is to cod the people that pass and get written up as “young” young ladies. They were as spiteful as a mess of six-weeks geese and sharp as a set of red hot hornets. One evening something like a dozen of them got out and according to custom began to tell each other funny things. They grew so facetious that they made themselves obnoxious to a certain fellow; and he said to himself that if young ladies absolutely refused to act decently the next time he had occasion he would have the re-, porter write them up in a way which would leave no room for anything more to be said, and would further give their names due prominence, not in the home paper necessarily where such information would be old, bat in a few large sensational Sunday papers where the pictures could be run and the exploits made into newsy “take offs.” Moral: There is a time when forbearance ceases to be a virtue; and a season when those who refuse to abide by the rules of culture must expect to be classed along with those whose ignorance and folly have lost for them the standing and respect of decent people. v What is this sound? Is it the trumpet of an advancing army? Is it Gabriel with his tin horn? Is it the stroke of doom? No—oh, no! It is only a Mouth going off. It is only the gentle donkey-bray of a Real Good Fellow. In fact there is nothing to be alarmed at—lt is only the Loud Mouthed Citizen sitting up on Washington street somewhere. For the benefit of readers of the Journal we will give a little dissertation upon the gentleman. Doubtless he has never before been in print and when he sees a few spasmodic paragraphs devoted to him he will step in and subscribe. There are several genera of these fellows. Most of the kinds are harmless, and use their coveted possessions for the purpose of showing their delight and satisfactory ending of a well-told tale. But there are other species who are less harmless and who indulge in ribaldry and profanity. Usually this latter type are young and the rabies are induced by the use of too much Bug Juice. When these members grow older and attain to the dignity of familyhood they will forget that they were once loud mouthed and they will go about carrying squalling babies at' two o’clock a. m., that have been awakened by the laughter of those who are what the infant carriers were once. But the true type about whom we wish to write has the disease confluently and all the time. He may.be heard keeping time in a sort of runic rhyme to everything that goes on in the burg. You can tell whether there has been a funny tale repeated anywhere within four blocks. You oan also be made aware of the weather, and all the late news will be repeated so that you can get it anytime in the day no matter how tar away you are from the intelligence office. He is a priceless boon to the editor and saves the hire of reporters for all one has to do is to remove a plug of cotton from one’s ears and the late gossip smites the tympanum in the great waves of

stentorian sonnd which the loudvoiced citizen is sending out from his rendezvous some mile or so away. His glorious guffaw has three double and four single sets of laughter in it, and when it strikes the conoave side of heaven it goes reverberating baok and forth so merrily that farmers look up and see what has made it thunder so when there are no rain olouds visible. In fact this good natured megaphone is one of the optimistio features of life in a town like Rensselaer. He may bore us sometimes; he may grow tiresome and deafening occasionally; he may “haw-haw” or loudly expostulate when we would rather hear the gentle breezes of summer blow through the whiskers of autumn; but he 1b a philanthropist so long as he teaches us to laugh in the face of daily worries—laugh in sympathy with him. Hence, with all his faults, the true genus (not the arbitrarily loud mouthed, walking delegate type), is a pretty good fellow after all.