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A Social History of American Newspapers MICHAEL SCHUDSON
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T1LÏT7 r i iL
KT JM.
A Social History of American Newspapers MICHAEL SCHUDSON
Basic
Books,
Inc.,
Publishers
New
York
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
tx
INTRODUCTION THE IDEAL OF OBJECTIVITY
3
CHAPTER 1 THE REVOLUTION I N A M E R I C A N JOURNALISM I N THE AGE OF •J-
EGALITARIANISM: THE PENNY PRESS The Revolution of the Penny Press 14 Explanations of the Revolution in Journalism 31 The Technological Argument 31 The Literacy Argument 35 The Natural History Argument 39 The Age of Egalitarianism and the Press 43 The Social Standing of the Penny Press 50 Conclusion 57
12
CHAPTER 2 TELLING STORIES: JOURNALISM AS A V O C A T I O N AFTER 1880 Science and Literary Realism 71 Occupational Ideals of Journalists 77
CHAPTER 3 STORIES A N D I N F O R M A T I O N : T W O JOURNALISMS I N THE 1890s Journalism as Entertainment: Joseph Pulitzer and the New York World 91 Journalism as Information: The Rise of the New York Times 106
61
88
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 4
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
OBJECTIVITY BECOMES IDEOLOGY: JOURNALISM AFTER W O R L D W A R I Losing Faith in the Democratic Market Society The Decline of "Facts" in Journalism 134 Subjectivity and Objectivity in the Press 144
121
THIS
122
B O O K had its origin i n a discussion w i t h David
Riesman five years ago. I n that conversation, I expressed my interest i n tracing the social history of important modern values. I f there is a history of ideas and a sociology of
CHAPTER 5 OBJECTIVITY, NEWS MANAGEMENT, A N D THE CRITICAL CULTURE Government and the Press: "News Management" The Rise of a Critical Culture 176 The Critique of Conventional Journalism— and Its Consequences 183
knowledge, is there not also a history of ideals and a sociology of values? I t is a long way from that general question to a 160
specific study of objectivity i n American journalism. But it was D a v i d Riesman's sensitive response to my first, tentative
164
articulation of an idea that helped me take the idea seriously. I am indebted to h i m for the unceasing generosity of his m i n d and spirit. I n an earlier version, this work was a doctoral dissertation
NOTES INDEX
195 221
in the Department of Sociology at H a r v a r d University. I t concerned the history of the ideal of objectivity i n American law and i n American journalism. W h i l e the work on the legal profession is not represented here, the discipline of comparing two occupational groups was very important to me, and my discussion of journalism would have been the poorer without it. M y dissertation advisers, Daniel Bell and M o r t o n H o r witz, demonstrated a personal interest i n my project and i n me which was far beyond any call of duty. I am enormously grateful for their intellectual and moral support. M a n y others helped me through the dissertation. I n reading my manuscript and encouraging my work Cora Brooks, Robert Manoff, and Robert Snow were more helpful than I know how to say. Robert Post's detailed criticism of several chapters was very important. Richard Schuldenfrei's intelligent
and
infectious
enthusiasm
for
my
efforts
was
indispensable. As I turned the dissertation into a book, more friends and colleagues came to my aid. For reading the entire manuscript and advising me on it, I acknowledge the help of M o r r i s Vlll
ix
INTRODUCTION
THE IDEAL OF OBJECTIVITY
A.
M E R I C A N J O U R N A L I S M has been regularly criti-
cized for failing to be "objective." Whether it was Democrats in 1952 complaining of a one-party press biased against A d l a i Stevenson
or the
Nixon-Agnew administration attacking
newspapers and television networks for being too liberal, the press has repeatedly been taken to task for not presenting the day's news "objectively." But why do critics take it for granted that the press should be objective? Objectivity is a peculiar demand to make of institutions which, as business corporations, are
dedicated
first of all to economic survival. I t is a peculiar demand to make of institutions which often, by tradition or explicit credo, are political organs. I t is a peculiar demand to make of editors and reporters who have none of the
professional
apparatus which, for doctors or lawyers or scientists, is supposed to guarantee objectivity. A n d yet, journalists, as well as their critics, hold newspapers to a standard of objectivity. N o t all journalists believe they should be objective i n their work, but the belief is 1
widespread, and all journalists today must i n some manner confront it. But why? W h a t kind of a w o r l d is ours and what kind of an institution is journalism that they sustain this particular ideal, objectivity? T h a t is the problem this book addresses. I shall not ask here the familiar question: are
3
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE IDEAL OF OBJECTIVITY
newspapers objective? I shall ask, instead, w h y that question
to the same constraints? I t would be just as likely, or more
is so familiar.
likely, that newspapers would take the availability of wire service news as license to concentrate on different kinds of
T h e question assumes special interest when one learns that,
reporting. If the A P style became a model for daily journalists,
before the 1830s, objectivity was not an issue. American
one would still have to account for its affinity w i t h their
newspapers were expected to present a partisan viewpoint,
interests and needs. But this brings us to the second, still more
not a neutral one. Indeed, they were not expected to report the
serious problem: objective reporting did not become the chief
"news" of the day at all i n the way we conceive it—the idea of
norm or practice i n journalism i n the late nineteenth century
"news" itself was invented i n the Jacksonian era. I f we are to
when the Associated Press was growing. As I w i l l ^ h o w i n the
understand the idea of objectivity i n journalism, the transfor-
second and third chapters, at the t u r n of the century there was
mation of the press i n the Jacksonian period must be exam-
as much emphasisjn leading papers on telling a good story as
ined. T h a t is the task of the first chapter, which w i l l interpret
on getting the facts. Sensationalism i n its various forms was
the origins of "news" i n its relationship to the democratiza-
the chief d e v e l o p j m e n U n , ^
tion of politics, the expansion of a market economy, and the
as often to write "literature" as to gather news. Still, i n 1896,
growing authority of an entrepreneurial, urban middle class.
i n the bawdiest days of yellow journalism, the New
There is an obvious explanation of w h y the idea of news,
Reporters sought York
Times began to climb to its premier position by stressing an
once established, should have turned into nonpartisan, strictly
"information" model, rather than a "story" model, of report-
factual news later i n the century. T h i s has to do w i t h the rise
ing.
of the first American wire service, the Associated Press. T h e
politically diverse clientele, the Times was informational to
telegraph was invented i n the 1840s, and, to take advantage of
attract a relatively select, socially homogeneous readership of
its speed i n transmitting news, a group of N e w York newspa-
the well to do. As i n the Jacksonian era, so i n the 1890s,
Where the Associated Press was factual to appeal to a
pers organized the Associated Press i n 1848. Since the Associ-
c h a n t s i n ' t h e ideals of journalism did not translate techno-
ated Press gathered news for publication i n a variety of
logical changes into occupational norms so much as make
papers w i t h widely different political allegiances, it could only
newspaper ideals and practices consonant w i t h the culture of
succeed by making its reporting "objective" enough to be
dominant social classes.
acceptable to all of its members and clients. By the late
But into the first decades of the twentieth century, even at
nineteenth century, the A P dispatches were markedly more
the New York Times, i t was uncommon for journalists to see a
free from editorial comment than most reporting for single
sharp divide between facts and values.
2
newspapers. I t has been argued, then, that the practice of the Associated Press became the ideal of journalism i n general.
8
4
Yet the belief i n
objectivity is just this: the belief that one can and should separate facts from values. Facts, i n this view, are assertions
W h i l e this argument is plausible, at first blush, there is
about the world open to independent validation. They stand
remarkably little evidence for i t and two good reasons to
beyond the distorting influences of any individual's personal
doubt it. First, it begs a key question: why should a practice,
preferences. Values, i n this view, are an individual's conscious
obviously important to the survival of the institution of the
or unconscious preferences for what the world should be; they
wire service, become a guiding ideal i n institutions not subject
are seen as ultimately subjective and so without legitimate
4
5
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE IDEAL OF OBJECTIVITY
claim on other people. T h e belief i n objectivity is a faith i n
anxiety that facts themselves, or what they had taken to be
"facts," a distrust of "values," and a commitment to their
facts, could not be trusted. One response to this discomfiting
segregation.
view was the institutionalization i n the daily paper of new
Journalists before W o r l d W a r I did not subscribe to this
genres of subjective reporting, like the political column.
view. They were, to the extent that they were interested i n
Another response turned the journalists' anxiety on its head
facts, naive empiricists; they believed that facts are not human
and encouraged journalists to replace a simple faith i n facts
statements about the w o r l d but aspects of the world itself.
w i t h an allegiance to rules and procedures created for a w o r l d
This view was insensitive to the ways i n which the " w o r l d " is
in which even facts were i n question. T h i s was "objectivity."
something people construct by the active play of their minds
Objectivity, i n this sense, means that a person's statements
and by their acceptance of conventional—not necessarily
about the w o r l d can be trusted i f they are submitted to
"true"—ways of seeing and talking. Philosophy, the history of
established rules deemed legitimate by a professional commu-
science, psychoanalysis, and the social sciences have taken
nity. Facts here are not aspects of the w o r l d , but consensually
great pains to demonstrate that human beings are cultural
validated statements about i t . W h i l e naive empiricism has not
animals who know and see and hear the w o r l d through
disappeared i n journalism and survives, to some extent, i n all
6
socially constructed filters. F r o m the 1920s on, the idea that
of us, after W o r l d W a r I i t was subordinated to the more
human beings individually and collectively construct the reali-
sophisticated ideal of "objectivity."
5
Discussion of objectivity as an ideal (or ideology) i n science,
Before the 1920s, journalists did not t h i n k much about the
medicine, law, the social sciences, journalism, and other
ty they deal w i t h has held a central position i n social thought.
subjectivity of perception. They had relatively little incentive
pursuits tends to two poles: either i t seeks to unmask the
to doubt the firmness of the "reality" by which they lived.
profession i n question or to glorify i t . I t is either debunking or
American society, despite serious problems, remained buoyant
self-serving. Debunkers show that the claims of professionals
w i t h hope and promise. Democracy was a value unquestioned
about being objective or expert or scientific are really just
in politics; free enterprise was still widely worshipped i n
attempts to legitimate power by defining political issues in
economic life; the novels of H o r a t i o Alger sold well. Few
technical terms. T h i s is often true. But, first, w h y is "objectiv-
people doubted the inevitability of progress. After W o r l d W a r
i t y " the legitimation they choose, and, second, w h y is it so
I , however, this changed. Journalists, like others, lost faith i n
often convincing to others? W h e n professionals make a claim
verities a democratic market society had taken for granted.
to authoritative knowledge, why do they base the claim on
Their experience of propaganda during the war and public
their objectivity rather than on, say, divine revelation or
relations , thereafter convinced them that the w o r l d they re-
electoral mandate? Debunking by itself does not provide an
ported was one that interested parties had constructed for
answer.
them to report. I n such a world, naive empiricism could not last.
The opposite stance is to Whiggishly identify objectivity in journalism or i n law or other professions w i t h
"science,"
This turning point is the topic of my fourth chapter. I n the
where science is understood as the right or true or best path to
twenties and thirties, many journalists observed w i t h growing
knowledge. T h i s is the point at which science, generally 7
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE IDEAL OF OBJECTIVITY
understood as opposed to ideology, threatens to become ide-
mechanism. Others may be institutional. For instance, legal
ology itself. But that, i n a sense, is just what interests me
scholars argue that courts are able to be more objective than
here—not the internal development of science as an institu-
legislatures because judges are institutionally further removed
tion or a body of knowledge and practices, but the reasons the
from the pressures of electoral politics than are legislators.
idea of science and the ideal of objectivity are so resonant i n
Objectivity i n the professions is guaranteed, then, by the
our culture. Even i f science, as we know it today, is i n some
autonomy of professional groups—the collective independence
sense getting us nearer to t r u t h than past systems of k n o w l -
of professions from the market and from popular w i l l , and the
edge, we can still inquire w h y twentieth-century Western
personal independence
culture should be so wise as to recognize this. A n d that is a
training, from their o w n values.
question that glorifications of science and objectivity do not
of professionals, assured by their
I n this context, the notion of objectivity i n journalism
answer.
appears anomalous. Nothing i n the training of journalists
It should be apparent that the belief i n objectivity i n journal-
journalists have esoteric techniques or language. Newspapers
gives them license to shape others' views of the world. N o r do ism, as i n other professions, is not just a claim about what
are directly dependent on market forces. They appeal directly
kind of knowledge is reliable. I t is also a moral philosophy, a
to popular opinion. Journalism is an uninsulated profession.
declaration of what kind of thinking one should engage i n , i n
T o criticize a lawyer, we say, " I ' m not a lawyer, b u t — " and
making moral decisions. I t is, moreover, a political commit-
to question a doctor, we say, " I ' m no expert on medicine,
ment, for it provides a guide to what groups one should
but—." W e feel no such compunction to qualify criticism of
acknowledge as relevant audiences for judging one's o w n
the morning paper or the television news. I do not subscribe to
thoughts and acts. T h e relevant audiences are defined by
the view that journalism is thereby inferior to other profes-
institutional mechanisms. T w o mechanisms of social control
sional groups; I simply mean to identify the problem of
are frequently said to underwrite objectivity i n different
objectivity i n the case of journalism. H o w is it that i n an
fields. First, there is advanced education and training. T h i s is
occupation without the social organization of self-regulated
supposed to provide trainees w i t h scientific knowledge and an
authority there is still passionate controversy about objectiv-
objective attitude which helps them set aside personal prefer-
ity? O f course, one answer is that the less a profession is seen
ences and passions. T h u s the training of physicians enables
to be self-evidently objective, the more passionate the contro-
them to sustain detached attitudes at times when persons
versy w i l l be. But this is not answer enough. W h y , i n
without such training would submit to panic or despair at the
journalism, where none of the features that guarantee objec-
human agony they face. L a w students are taught to distin-
tivity i n law or medicine exist or are likely to exist, should
guish "legal" questions (generally understood to be technical)
objectivity still be a serious issue? W h y hasn't it been given up
from " m o r a l " issues (generally understood to be outside the
altogether?
proper domain of legal education and legal practice).
By the 1960s, both critics of the press and defenders took
A second basic form of social control is insulation from the
objectivity to be the emblem of American journalism, an
public. Technical language or jargon is one such insulating
improvement over a past of "sensationalism" and a contrast to
8
9
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
the party papers of Europe. Whether regarded as the fatal flaw or the supreme virtue of the American press, all agreed that the idea of objectivity was at the heart of what journalism has meant i n this country. A t the same time, the ideal of objectivity was more completely and divisively debated i n the past decade than ever before. I n the final chapter, I w i l l
THE IDEAL OF OBJECTIVITY
journalism and general currents i n economic, political, social, and cultural life. W i t h t w o such ambitions, I know my reach has exceeded my grasp. I f I have not achieved as much here as I would like, I hope nonetheless to have engaged the reader's interest i n the quest and the questions.
examine how changing subject matter, sources of news, and audience for the news precipitated this debate i n journalism. Government management of the news, which began to concern journalists after W o r l d W a r I , became an increasingly disturbing problem w i t h the rise of a national security establishment and an " i m p e r i a l " presidency after W o r l d W a r I I . I n the Vietnam war, government news management collided w i t h a growing "adversary culture" i n the universities, i n journalism, i n the government itself, and i n the population at large. T h e conflagration that followed produced a radical questioning of objectivity which w i l l not soon be forgotten and revitalized traditions of reporting that the objective style had long overshadowed. T h e ideal of objectivity has by no means been displaced, but, more than ever, it holds its authority on sufferance. I originally conceived this work as a case study i n the history of professions
and i n the genesis of professional
ideology. I saw objectivity as the dominant ideal that legitimates knowledge and authority i n all contemporary professions. I f I could excavate its foundations i n one field, I could hope to expose its structure i n a l l . W h i l e this book has not entirely outgrown that ambition, it came to be moved equally by another. I grew fascinated by journalism itself and convinced there were important questions, not only unanswered but unasked, about the relationship of journalism to the development of American society as a whole. Where standard histories of the American press consider the social context of journalism only i n passing, this w o r k takes as its main subject the relationship between the institutionalization of modern
10
11
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
CHAPTER 1
seeking only their own ends was threatening the bonds of community. H i s growing disaffection led h i m to attack American newspapers. H e did so i n an extended series of libel suits; i n his characterization of a newspaper editor, the disgusting
THE REVOLUTION IN AMERICAN JOURNALISM IN THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: THE PENNY PRESS
Steadfast Dodge who appeared i n Homeward and Home As Found
Bound (1838)
(1838); and i n The American
Democrat
(1838), a short work of political criticism. I n that work he wrote: If newspapers are useful in overthrowing tyrants, it is only to establish a tyranny of their own. The press tyrannizes over publick men, letters, the arts, the stage, and even over private life. Under the pretence of protecting publick morals, it is corrupting them to the core, and under the semblance of maintaining liberty, it is gradually establishing a despotism as ruthless, as grasping, and one that is quite as vulgar as that of any christian state known. With loud professions of freedom of opinion, there is no tolerance; with a parade of patriotism, no sacrifice of interests; and with fulsome panegyrics on propriety, too frequently, no decency. 3
Perhaps this is suggestive of the state of the American press ' Y B I R T H , education, and marriage, James Fenimore
in the 1830s; more surely it represents a protest of established
Cooper was an American aristocrat. For h i m , power and
power against a democratized—in this case, middle-class—
prestige were always near at hand. But he was also an ardent
social order. Cooper expressed a deep anxiety about the moral
nationalist, a great admirer of Jefferson and even Jackson.
influence of the press which appeared to h i m to be "corrupt-
H i s novel The Bravo (1831) honored the J u l y Revolution i n
i n g , " "vulgar," and without decency. I t had i n his eyes the
France. I t sought to expose those people i n society who were
unwelcome characteristics of a middle-class institution: paro-
"contending for exclusive advantages at the expense of the
chialism, scant regard for the sanctity of private life, and
mass of their fellow-creatures."
1
The Bravo was written during Cooper's seven-year sojourn
grasping self-interest. Most disturbing of all, i t had enormous and unwarranted power over the shaping of opinion.
in Europe from 1826 to 1833. I n that time Cooper developed
Cooper's fears of a "press-ocracy" were exaggerated, but
"a lofty detachment from the fears natural to his own class,
he was responding to real changes i n American journalism. I n
and a w a r m sympathy for the lower classes that i n Europe
1830 the country had 650 weeklies and 65 dailies. T h e
were, and i n America might be, deprived of their political
average circulation of a daily was 1,200, so the total daily
rights." But detachment did not last. T h e America Cooper
circulation was roughly 78,000. By 1840 there were 1,141
found on his return seemed far different from the Republic he
weeklies and 138 dailies. T h e dailies averaged
remembered. Cooper felt that a new breed of individuals
circulation for an estimated total daily circulation of 300,000.
2
12
2,200 i n
13
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS I
Population during the same period was also growing, but more slowly—from 12.9 million to 17.1 million, urban popu4
lation increasing from .9 million to 1.5 m i l l i o n . But Cooper was not responding to statistics. H e knew that newspapers were different, not just more numerous, than the ones he left behind i n 1826, and those most different—the "penny papers"—appeared most powerful. T h e new journals reflected political, social, and technological changes that a thoughtful man might well have been alarmed about. I t is now widely agreed that the 1830s, a remarkable decade i n so many ways, marked a revolution i n American journalism. T h a t revolution led to the t r i u m p h of "news" over the editorial and "facts" over opinion, a change which was shaped by the expansion of democracy and the market, and which would lead, i n time, to the journalist's unleasy allegiance to objectivity.
distinguished, i n layout, typography, or style, from editorial— all were expressions of the editor or his party. Some newspapers were p r i m a r i l y commercial, others were political. T h e political papers gave greater emphasis to news of national politics. They were financed by political parties, factions of parties, or candidates
for office who dictated
editorial policy and sometimes wrote the editorials personally. There was nothing deceptive about this—it was standard practice and common knowledge. T h e party papers were dependent on political leaders, not only for their initial capital and their point of view, but for maintenance through the paid publication of legal notices when the party they backed held power. E d w i n Croswell ran the Albany Argus, the Democratic Party i n N e w York, from
the organ of
1824 to 1840,
during which time he was also official state printer. T h i s was the most lucrative post i n the state; Croswell estimated i t was w o r t h $30,000 a year. T h u r l o w Weed of the Albany
Evening
Journal succeeded Croswell as state printer. H e stated that he T h e R e v o l u t i o n of t h e P e n n y Press
and his two partners grossed $50,000 i n 1841, though Croswell put the figure at $65,000.
5
The commercial press and the party press had several When Cooper left America, as when Tocqueville visited a few
important features i n common. First, they were expensive. A
years later, the typical American paper was generally a
paper ordinarily cost the reader six cents an issue at a time
weekly, but there were already many dailies i n seaboard
when the average daily wage for nonfarm labor was less than
cities. T h e typical daily was four pages long. Its front page
eighty-five cents. But a person could not buy one issue at a
was almost exclusively devoted to advertising, and the fourth
time except at the printer's office. Newspapers were generally
page likewise was strictly advertising. These outside pages
sold only by subscription, and annual subscriptions ranged
were like the cover of a book or magazine—one turned to the
from eight to ten dollars. N o t surprisingly, circulation of
inside to find the content of the paper. Page two carried the
newspapers was low, usually just one to two thousand for
editorial columns. M u d h of page two and page three detailed
even the most prominent metropolitan papers. Newspaper
the arrival of ships ir/ the harbor and the contents of their
readership was confined to mercantile and political elites; i t is
cargoes, as well as other marine news. O n page two one could
no wonder, then, that newspaper
find an editorial on politics, as well as short "items" of news.
commerce and politics.
content was limited to
M a n y of the "items" were lifted directly from other newspa-
This is not to say that these papers were staid or sedate.
pers,, w i t h credit generally given. Other items were not
T r u e , dominated as they were by advertising and shipping
14
15
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
news, they appear to have been little more than bulletin
Before the 1830s, when newspapers sought the readership of
boards for the business community. But their editorials, in
commercial elites, they named themselves
which they took great pride, were strongly partisan, provoca-
Boston, i n 1820, the two dailies were The Boston
tive, and ill-tempered. Editors attacked one another ferocious-
Advertiser
and the Boston
I n Baltimore, the dailies i n 1820 were the Ameri-
Patriot
accordingly. I n
and Daily
Daily
Mercantile
ly i n print, and this sometimes carried over into fist fights or
Advertiser.
duels. T h e New York diarist Philip Hone recorded one such
can and Commercial
incident i n 1831:
and Baltimore Daily Advertiser, the Federal
Republican
and
Baltimore
Republican
and
While I was shaving this morning I witnessed from the front windows an encounter in the streets between William Gullen Bryant, one of the editors of the Evening Post, and Wm L Stone, editor of the Commercial Advertiser. The former commenced the attack by striking Stone over the head with a cowskin; after a few blows the parties closed and the whip was wrested from Bryant and carried off by Stone. 0
Commercial Advertiser, Advertiser.
Telegraph
Daily Advertiser,
the Federal
(formerly the Federal
Gazette), the Morning
Chronicle
and
and finally the Baltimore Patriot and
Gazette
Baltimore Mercantile
M o r e than half of all newspapers published
weekly or more frequently i n N e w York, Boston, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Washington, Charleston, and New Orleans in 1820 had the words "advertiser," "commercial," or "mercan-
matter.
t i l e " i n their titles. But, after 1830, few newspapers were
Early newspapers were small operations. One man generally
founded which bore such names. Instead, there were a great
Editing a newspaper was an intensely personal
served as editor, reporter (insofar as there was any reporting
many papers whose names express a kind of
at all), business manager, and printer. But the personal
like "critic," "herald," " t r i b u n e . " One might also include as
character of these early papers should not be misunderstood.
part of this development the papers named "star" or "sun,"
M a n y editors were subservient to their political masters and,
for both words suggest active objects which illuminate the
at the same time, very limited i n their views on what was
world. So newspapers, i f we can judge from their titles,
acceptable to put i n p r i n t . "Journalists," wrote N e w York
became less passive, more self-consciously expressive of the
editor James Gordon Bennett's contemporary
editor's personality and convictions after 1830.
biographer,
"were usually little more than secretaries dependent upon
agency—names
8
The movement from "advertisers" to "heralds" and "suns"
cliques of politicians, merchants, brokers, and office-seekers
in the 1830s has been called the "commercial revolution" i n
for their position and b r e a d . . . . ' " N o t u n t i l the revolution i n
the American press. T h e "commercial revolution" refers not
the press of the 1830s did the editor's ability to express
to all newspapers i n the period but to those which most
9
himself i n his newspaper grow, and then i t grew i n new
radically broke w i t h tradition and established the model
directions—the editor made himself known, not only through
which the mainstream of American journalism has
editorials, but through the industry, enterprise, and innova-
followed. These were the "penny papers." As the name
tion i n his news gathering. Paradoxically, the newspaper
suggests, what was most obviously original about them is that
became a more personal instrument at the same time that it
they sold for a penny, not six cents. Further, rather than
began to emphasize news rather than editorial.
since
selling by annual subscription, they were hawked i n the
We can trace this development i n a makeshift way by
streets each day by newsboys. T h e i r circulation was corre-
examining the names of newspapers i n different periods.
spondingly enormous compared to the six-penny journals.
16
17
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
York Sun, first published
basis, and the old complaints of editors about subscribers who
September 3, 1833, had the largest circulation of any paper i n
would not pay declined. Advertising, as well as sales, took on
the city w i t h i n a few months—by January, 1834, it claimed a
a more democratic cast. First, advertising i n the established
circulation of 5,000. W i t h i n two years it was selling 15,000
journals, which heretofore had addressed the reader only
copies a day. T h e Sun was quickly followed by two other
insofar as he was a businessman interested i n shipping and
penny papers i n N e w York—the Evening
The first penny paper, the New
and, on
public sales or a lawyer interested i n legal notices, increasing-
M a y 6, 1835, James Gordon Bennett's New York Herald. I n
ly addressed the newspaper reader as a human being w i t h
June, 1835, the combined circulation of just these three
mortal needs. Patent medicines became the mainstay of the
papers was 44,000; when the Sun began i n 1833, the com-
advertising columns. " W a n t ads" became a more prominent
bined circulation of all of the city's eleven dailies had been
feature of the papers; when P. T . B a r n u m moved to N e w
only 26,500.
Transcript
12
York i n the winter of 1834-1835 to find a job i n a mercantile
10
The penny press spread to the country's other urban, commercial centers—Boston, Philadelphia, and Baltimore.
house, he conducted his job search by reading the "wants" each morning i n the
13
Sun.
Times appeared February 16, 1836, and
Second, advertising became more strictly an economic ex-
w i t h i n weeks wa*s the city's largest paper, claiming a circula-
change, not a moral one: older journals had often refused to
tion of 8,000 by the middle of M a r c h . I n Philadelphia, the
print ads for what they believed to be objectionable advertis-
Philadelphia
ing. The Journal
The Boston Daily
Public Ledger began M a r c h 25, 1836, organized
of Commerce i n N e w Y o r k would not accept
by W i l l i a m Swain and A r u n a h Abell, N e w Y o r k printers and
advertisements of theaters, lotteries, or "business to be trans-
friends of Benjamin Day, and their partner Azariah Sim-
acted on the Sabbath." T h e New
mons. T h e Public
Boston followed a similar policy. T h e New
Ledger's
circulation was 10,000 w i t h i n
England
Palladium York
in
Evening
eight months, and 20,000 after eighteen months, at a time
Post banned lottery advertising and, by the late 1820s, this
when the largest of the established dailies i n the city sold
was fairly common. T h e penny press, i n contrast, was not
about 2,000. The Baltimore
Sun was founded i n 1837 by
Arunah Abell w i t h the backing of his fellow Public
Ledger
proprietors. W i t h i n nine months its circulation was over 10,000, more than triple the circulation of any other Baltimore paper.
11
The penny papers made their way i n the w o r l d by seeking large circulation and the advertising i t attracted, rather than by trusting to subscription fees and subsidies from political parties. T h i s rationalized the economic structure of newspaper publishing. Sources of income that depended on social ties or political fellow feeling were replaced by market-based income from advertising and sales. Sales moved to a cash
18
very fussy about who advertised i n its columns. Penny papers were self-righteous i n defending their wide-open practices: Some of our readers complain of the great number of patent medicines advertised in this paper. To this complaint we can only reply that it is for our interest to insert such advertisements as are not indecent or improper in their language, without any inquiry whether the articles advertised are what they purport to be. That is an inquiry for the reader who feels interested in the matter, and not for us, to make. It is sufficient for our purpose that the advertisements are paid for, and that, while we reserve the right of excluding such as are improper to be read, to the advertising public we are impartial, and show no respect to persons, or to the various kinds of business that fill up this little world of ours. One man has as good a
19
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
right as another to have his wares, his goods, his panaceas, his profession, published to the world in a newspaper, provided he pays for it.
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: THE ,PENNY PRESS
This comment from the Boston Daily Times could not better
the Times and the Herald that day ran about two thirds of a column of medical ads. A l l the penny papers, to greater or lesser degrees, adopted the language and morality of laissez faire.
express a policy and a morality of laissez faire. I n this, it was
N o less original than the economic organization of the new
representative of the penny press. W i t h an over-the-shoulder
journalism was sits political position. Most of the penny
14
nod to propriety, the penny papers appealed to the equal right
papers, including all of the pioneers i n the field, claimed
of any advertiser to employ the public press, so long as the
political independence, something that earlier papers rarely
advertiser paid. T h e self-righteousness of the penny papers,
pretended to. James Gordon Bennett felt that this was closely
compared to the established press, was peculiarly inverted:
tied to the economic design of the penny paper, the "nonsub-
they proudly denied their o w n authority or responsibility for
scriber p l a n , " as he called i t , of selling on the streets. Only the
exercising moral judgment i n advertising matters and de-
penny press could be a free press, he wrote, "simply because i t
fended this position, without embarrassment,
as consistent
is subservient to none of its readers—known to none of its
The six-penny papers criticized the penny press for its
are n o t . " T h e penny papers were not only formally indepen-
advertising policies and centered especially on the large
dent of political parties but were, relatively speaking, indiffer-
number of patent medicine ads. Bennett's Herald
ent to political events. T h e New York Sun's lead on a short
readers—and entirely ignorant who are its readers and who
w i t h their self-interest.
was the
17
special butt of this criticism. I t became the object of abuse
item of congressional news was not unusual: " T h e proceed-
from penny papers as well, including Horace Greeley's penny
ings of Congress thus far, would not interest our readers."
New
The Sun had announced i n its first issue that its object was
York
Tribune,
established i n 1841, and H e n r y Ray-
18
founded i n 1851. These
"to lay before the public, at a price w i t h i n the means of
papers, it is fair to surmise, coveted Bennett's readership.
everyone, all the news of the day, and at the same time afford
mond's penny New
York
Times,
Greeley criticized the Sun and the Herald
i n 1841 for taking
the ads of N e w York's leading abortionist, Madame Restell. O n the other hand, the Tribune's filled
columns were themselves
w i t h patent medicine advertising, and when a reader
complained, Greeley wrote: " H e should complain to our advertisers themselves, who are not responsible to us for the style or language ( i f decent) of their advertisements, nor have 15
we any control over t h e m . " I n 1852 the Times wrote that the Herald
was "the recognized organ of quack doctors."
16
This
was, however, the narcissism of small differences: the same issue of the Times,
for instance, included ads for " T h e
an advantageous
medium for advertising." N o mention of
politics. Early issues of the New fiction
York Transcript
featured
on page one and inside focused on local items that
rarely included politics. One issue, for instance, included short paragraphs on attempted rape, riot, attempted suicide, mail robbery, stingless bees from Mexico, and even news of an abandoned child left i n a basket on a doorstep.
19
A year later,
it should be added, articles were longer, there was more court reporting, and there was more news of national politics. The Transcript,
like some other penny papers, advertised
its divorce from politics. T h e paper announced i n its inaugu-
American M e n t a l Alchemist," D r . Kellinger's Liniment,
ral issue that, so far as politics goes, "we have none."
Doctor Houghton's Pepsin, and Ayer's Cherry Pectoral; both
Boston Daily
20
The
Times claimed to be "neutral i n politics" and
21
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
advised political parties to find the way into the newspaper
increasingly varied, urban, and middle-class society of trade,
columns by advertising. T h e Baltimore Sun proclaimed:
transportation, and manufacturing.
We shall give no place to religious controversy nor to political discussions of merely partisan character. On political principles, and questions involving the interests of honor of the whole country, it will be free, firm and temperate. Our object will be the common good, without regard to that of sects, factions, or parties; and for this object we shall labor without fear or partiality. 20
The six-penny papers responded to the penny newcomers w i t h charges of sensationalism. T h i s accusation was substantiated less by the way the penny papers treated the news (there were no sensational photographs, of course, no cartoons or drawings, no large headlines) than by the fact that the penny papers would p r i n t "news"—as we understand it—at
W h i l e some penny papers failed, at least at first, to attend
all. I t was common for penny papers, covering a murder t r i a l ,
very much to politics at a l l , others covered politics more
to take a verbatim transcript of the t r i a l and spread it across
completely than the six-penny press, and just as vigorously.
most, or a l l , of the front page. W h a t the six-penny press
But even these papers, like the New
York Herald,
did not
decried as immoral was that a murder t r i a l should be reported
identify their mission or their hopes w i t h partisan politics; to
at a l l . T h e typical news story was the verbatim report,
some extent, the w o r l d of parties became just a part of a
whether i t be of a presidential address, a murder trial, or the
larger universe of news. T h e penny papers were not all
annual statement of the United States Treasury.
determined to be politically neutral. Horace Greeley's aim i n establishing the New York Tribune
News became the mainstay of the daily paper. T h e penny
i n 1841 was to found "a
papers did not depend on the usual trickle of stale news but
journal removed alike from servile partisanship on the one
sought out the news. They took pride i n their activity, as the
hand and from gagged, mincing neutrality on the other." But
21
supports the general point, for Greeley contrasts the
Tribune
to the "gagged, mincing neutrality" he surely associated w i t h some of his penny rivals. T h e penny press was novel, not only i n economic organization and political stance, but i n its content. T h e character of this originality is simply put: the penny press invented the modern concept of "news." For the first time the American newspaper made i t a regular practice to p r i n t political news, not just foreign but domestic, and not just national but local; for the first time it printed reports from the police, from the courts, from the streets, and from private households. One might say that, for the first time, the newspaper reflected not just commerce or politics but social life. T o be more precise, i n the 1830s the newspapers began to reflect, not the affairs of an elite i n a small trading society, but the activities of an
22
New York Transcript
made clear i n 1834:
even Greeley's avowal of principled partisan politics There are eleven large and regularly established daily papers in this city; and with the exception of the Courier and Enquirer, and perhaps the Times, not one of them employs a news reporter, or takes any other pains to obtain accurate and correct local information—on the other hand there are two small daily NEWS papers, (ourselves and our cotemporary,) and those two employ four reporters, exclusively to obtain the earliest, fullest, and most correct intelligence on every local incident; and two of these latter arise at 3 in the morning, at which hour they attend the police courts, and are there employed, with short intermissions, till the close of the office at 8 in the evening, while others are obtaining correct information about the city. 22
I n 1835 the Herald porary" the Sun
joined the Transcript
and its "cotem-
and, by the end of 1837, boasted two
Washington correspondents, permanent correspondents i n Jamaica and Key West; occasional correspondents i n London, Philadelphia, and Boston; two Canadian correspondents dur-
23
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
ing the MacKenzie Rebellion of 1837; and a correspondent
critics assumed it to be. Parton argued that people who
roving N e w York State to report on the wheat crop. T h i s was
thought the Herald
expensive, the Herald public.
23
noted, but it was done to gratify the
A year later the Herald
had hired six European
correspondents as regular contributors.
24
a bad paper spoke mainly of its editorials
which, he admitted, were execrable. Bennett was ornery, prejudiced, misanthropic, and opportunistic, and his editorials reflected his nature. But, Parton went on, the editorial is
The institution of paid reporters was not only novel but, to
dying and only the news is the "point of r i v a l r y " between
some, shocking. U n t i l the late 1820s, N e w York coverage of
papers. T h e success of a j o u r n a l had come to depend "wholly
Washington politics relied mainly on members of Congress
and absolutely upon its success i n getting, and its skill i n
writing occasionally to their home papers. Some regular
exhibiting, the news. T h e word newspaper is the exact and
"letter writers" passed on dull reports and summarized
complete description of the thing which the true journalist
speeches. James Gordon Bennett, w r i t i n g i n 1827 and 1828
aims to produce."
for the New York Enquirer,
initiated more lively reporting
w i t h his dispatches on "the court of J o h n Q. Adams."
27
News was, indeed, the point of rivalry w i t h the penny
26
papers. W e have so completely identified the concept of
Adams never accommodated himself to the impudence of the
"news" w i t h the newspaper itself that it may be difficult to
new journalism* H e wrote w i t h disgust i n his diary i n 1842
understand how dramatic a change the penny press represent-
that sons of President T y l e r "divulged all his cabinet secrets
ed. U n t i l the 1830s, a newspaper
to a man named Parmalee and J o h n H o w a r d Payne, hired
political parties and men of commerce; w i t h the penny press a
reporters
New
newspaper sold a product to a general readership and sold the
H i s use of " h i r e d " to qualify "reporters" sug-
readership to advertisers. T h e product sold to readers was
York..... "
for 2 6
Bennett's
Herald
newspaper
in
gests how new, and perhaps disreputable, the institution of a reportorial staff was.
provided a service to
"news," and it was an original product i n several respects. First, it claimed to represent, colorfully but without partisan
One way to see the dominance of the newspaper by news,
coloring, events h i the world. T h u s the news product of one
which the penny press initiated, is to regard it as the decline
paper could be compared to that of another for accuracy,
of the editorial. T h i s is much less than the whole story, but it
completeness, liveliness, and timeliness. T h e Herald
was one of the ways i n which contemporaries understood the
crowed over the accuracy and fullness of its report of a speech
change they were witnessing. I n an article i n North
American
by Daniel Webster and ridiculed a M r . Stansbury, reporting
i n 1866, Horace Greeley's biographer James Parton
for a six-penny paper, who "knows nothing of stenography
sought to explain the phenomenal success and influence of
and wrote out some thirty or forty pages of small quarto
James Gordon Bennett's New York Herald.
foolscap, i n long h a n d . "
Review
current opinion about the Herald.
Parton reviewed
28
T h e Herald
i n 1840
patted itself on the
One view was that the
back, on one occasion, for having had the only reporter on the
Herald rose to prominence because it was a very bad newspa-
school-visiting t r i p of the City Council and School F u n d
per, pandering to the bad taste of the public. A second view,
commissioners and, on another, for having been the only
and Parton's own view, was that the Herald
paper i n the city to p r i n t the United States Treasurer's report
succeeded
because it was a very good newspaper—but that the newspa-
in f u l l .
per had become something different from what the
rivaled each other i n p r i n t i n g "extras" and praising them-
24
Herald's
29
As for the timeliness of news, the Herald
and the Sun
25
BMM^iiift*in'Hi»'fih«w?.\.
.
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
selves for i t . T h e Herald,
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM^ THE PENNY PRESS
for instance, boasted on November
conventions had dictated that the common aspects of everyday
21, 1840, of its extra on the day before announcing the arrival
life could receive only comic treatment, i f they were dealt w i t h
of British forces i n Canton: "No other newspaper
at a l l .
establish-
ment in New York had the news at that time, nor could they get it, they are so inefficient and
lazy."
82
A similar convention appears to have prevailed i n
journalism—newspapers simply did not report on the lives of ordinary people. Although the W a r of 1812 ended the almost
30
D u r i n g the first decades of the nineteenth century, newspa-
exclusive dominance of foreign news i n the American press,
pers had increasingly tried to be up-to-date, especially i n
local or hometown news, before the penny papers, remained a
reporting the arrival of ships and i n printing the news they
minor feature. T h e commercial press proved less reliable i n
brought w i t h them. T h e N e w York papers began to send out
reporting local prices of commodities or stocks than i n report-
small boats to incoming ships to gather up news; i n the late
ing foreign news and shipping news.
1820s, several papers formed an association which bought a
contrast, focused on the nearby and the everyday, and for the
fast boat to meet the ships for all association members. But
first time hired reporters on a regular basis to cover local
33
The penny press, i n
only w i t h the penny press was the competition for news
news. Reporters were assigned to the police, the courts, the
"beats" firmly established as the chief basis of the newspaper
commercial district, the churches, high society, and sports.
business. Thanks to James Gordon Bennett, even advertising
The penny papers made the "human interest story" not only
became more timely. U n t i l the 1840s advertisers paid a flat
an important part of daily journalism but its most characteris-
fee, often on an annual basis, to place the same notice i n a
tic feature.
paper day after day. I n 1847 Bennett announced that, begin-
The penny papers saw news i n ordinary events where no
would have to be
one had seen anything noteworthy before. T h i s is nowhere
resubmitted daily. T h i s encouraged changing ad copy so that
better indicated than i n those moments when even the most
Bennett's managing editor, Frederic Hudson, exclaimed i n his
aggressive penny papers had a hard time claiming there had
history of American journalism:
been any news. I n an item headed " T h e News of the Week,"
ning January 1, 1848, all ads i n the Herald
. . . the advertisements form the most interesting and practical city news. They are the hopes, the thoughts, the joys, the plans, the shames, the losses, the mishaps, the fortunes, the pleasures, the miseries, the politics, and the religion of the people. Each advertiser is therefore a reporter, a sort of penny-a-liner, he paying the penny. What a picture of the metropolis one day's advertisements in the Herald presents to mankind! 31
The penny papers' concept of news not only created news as a marketable product whose attributes—particularly timeliness—could be measured, i t invented a genre which acknowledged, and so enhanced, the importance of everyday life. I n literature u n t i l the eighteenth century, aristocratic
26
the Herald
of M a r c h 12, 1837 wrote: T H E NEWS OF T H E . W E E K
Is not of very much importance. Yet the most insignificant events can be swelled to matters of great moment, if they are traced up eternity to their causes, or down eternity to their consequences. Not a single incident—not the slightest event that does not become a part of the time past or the time to come, and thus mix with the greatest everlasting both in time and in space. The news of a day—of a week—is supposed by the superficial blockheads who conduct newspapers and govern nations—or cheat the public—or sell quack medicine—or stir up politics—or shave in Wall Street, to be of trifling moment. And so it is to them. To the philosopher who dips deeply into things, it is different. 34
27
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
The penny papers inaugurated this democratic attitude to-
T h e attention to the everyday, and particularly the focus on
w a r d the happenings of the world: any event, no matter how
the social life of the rich, helped obscure the division of public
apparently trivial, might qualify for print i n a newspaper.
and private life. For an editor like Bennett, little was p r i v i -
T h e attention to everyday life did not necessarily mean
leged, personal, or private—though he was cautious enough
attention to the familiar. T h e penny papers printed much that
in his reports on high society to use initials rather than names.
would appeal to the ordinary middle-class reader precisely
Penny papers introduced news of family squabbles and scan-
because it was exotic—it concerned the everyday lives of other
dals. W h i l e notices of marriages and deaths were familiar i n
classes. Benjamin Day at the Sun pioneered the coverage of
newspapers, printing b i r t h announcements was not. W h e n
the criminal, especially i n reporting police news. Bennett,
the Pittsburgh
from the Herald's
recording births i n the papers, Bennett's sarcastic comment i n
earliest days, reported on the social affairs
Daily
Express
advocated the propriety of
of the elite of N e w Y o r k and Saratoga. As was usual w i t h
the Herald
Bennett, he advertised his own innovation:
of propriety: " W h y , the practice would rouse up all the Miss
No one ever attempted till now to bring out the graces, the polish, the elegancies, the bright and airy attributes of social life. We never can be an indepennent [sic], a happy, an original people, unless we rely on our resources, either for fashion, gaiety, politics, potatoes, flour, or manufactures. Our purpose has been, and is, to give to the highest society of New York a life, a variety, a piquancy, a brilliancy, an originality that will entirely outstrip the worn out races of Europe, who have been degenerating for the last twenty generations. 35
indicated his approval, while protecting his flank
Squeamishes i n the country. I t is no argument that they do such things i n England; they do a great many things i n England that would not suit here!"
38
I n February, 1848, a Washington correspondent for the New York Tribune,
w r i t i n g under the name "Persimmon,"
sketched the luncheon habits of Representative W i l l i a m Sawyer of Ohio. H i s article detailed how each day at two o'clock Sawyer moved from his seat i n the House to a place behind
Herald
and to the left of the Speaker's chair, near the window, and
reporter at a fancy dress ball he attended i n 1840. T h e host
proceeded to take out his lunch. H e would unfold a greasy
Diarist Philip Hone recorded the presence of a
consented to the presence of the reporter, Hone wrote, be-
paper and eat the bread and sausage it contained, wipe his
cause this imposed on the reporter "a sort of obligation . . . to
hands on the paper, and throw the paper out the window. H e
refrain from abusing the house, the people of the house, and their guests, which would have been done i n case of a denial." Hone continued: " B u t this is a hard alternative; to submit to this kind of surveillance is getting to be intolerable, and nothing but the force of public opinion w i l l correct the insolence
"
3 6
Public opinion was i n no such mood. Bennett
devoted most of page one to this ball, suggesting that it "created a greater sensation i n the fashionable w o r l d than anything of the kind since the creation of the w o r l d , or the fall of beauteous woman, or the frolic of old Noah, after he left the ark and took to wine and d r i n k i n g . "
28
31
used his jackknife for a toothpick and his pantaloons and coatsleeves for a napkin. Sawyer objected to this coverage and his friends succeeded i n passing a resolution (119 to 46) ousting all Tribune
reporters from their seats or desks on the
House floor. " W h a t was the offense of the ' T r i b u n e , ' after all?" asked the Tribune
correspondent i n a later article.
"Nothing i n the w o r l d but stating a few facts, not against the moral character of anybody, but about the personal habits of a member of the House."
39
Shortly before this incident, the House had failed to censure the organ of the Democratic administration for call-
29
pW>»»-»**
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISMf THE PENNY PRESS
ing a member of the House a liar. T h a t was a kind of
democracy or, put another way, the democratization of busi-
journalism they were used to. T h e new journalism of the
ness and politics sponsored by an urban middle class which
penny press, on the other hand, ushered i n a new order, a
trumpeted "equality" i n social life. T o show that this is what
shared social universe i n which " p u b l i c " and "private" would
was happening i n the 1830s and to relate it to journalism is to
be redefined. I t is no wonder that this should have appalled
do more than conclusive and compact evidence w i l l allow. But
those who believed the early days of the American Republic
there is much to make the case persuasive. I t becomes all the
had re-established the elevated public realm of the Greek city-
more appealing when the inadequacies of likely alternative
states and the Roman Forum. Something new was threaten-
explanations are made plain. T h e two that require most
ing this idyll, something H a n n a h Arendt refers to as the
attention are the technological argument and the literacy
creation of society, "that curiously hybrid realm where private
argument.
interests
assume public significance."
interest—self-aggrandizement
and
40
Both meanings of
curiosity—seem
fitting
here. W i t h the growth of cities and of commerce, everyday life acquired a density and a fascination quite new, "society" was palpable as never before, and the newspapers—especially penny
papers—were both agent and expression
the
Explanations of t h e R e v o l u t i o n i n J o u r n a l i s m
of this
The Technological Argument
change. Granting that this fairly describes the changes i n American journalism i n the 1830s, what can account for it? W h y did i t
The technological argument
is the powerful idea
that
technological advances i n printing and related industries and
happen? M o r e precisely, w h y did it happen when and where
the development of railroad transportation and later tele-
it did? Recapitulating, what took place is that a cheap press
graphic communications were the necessary preconditions for
originated i n the 1830s i n N e w York, a city which was
a cheap, mass-circulation, news-hungry, and
already the national hub of interurban trade, transportation, and communication.
41
I t quickly spread to the other leading
urban centers—Boston,
Philadelphia, and Baltimore. T h e
new press was distinctive economically—in selling cheaply, i n
independent
press. T h i s idea is more a reflex i n commentary on American journalism than a well-considered theory, but it is a common and fundamental reflex and bears examination.
42
The pertinence of a technological explanation to radical
its distribution by newsboys, and i n its reliance on advertising;
changes i n journalism i n the 1830s is beyond question. T h e
politically—in its claims to independence from party; and
wooden, hand-powered
press, practically unchanged
since
substantively—in its focus on news, a genre it invented. W h a t
Gutenberg, was transformed i n the early nineteenth century.
accounts for all this?
The first iron presses came into use at the t u r n of the century.
These changes i n journalism were closely connected to broad social, economic, and political change which I shall refer to as the rise of a "democratic market society." T h i s meant the expansion of a market economy and political
30
While no faster than the wooden presses, they were easier to operate and the quality of their impressions was higher. A series of mechanical innovations i n the next two decades improved these
flatbed
hand
presses, but
the
manually
31
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
powered presses began to give way to steam and the flatbed design to a cylinder press. T h e first book i n America printed by a steam-driven press was published i n 1823. By the 1840s the steam press dominated the American market. T h e change from the flatbed to the cylinder press was just as important. Frederick Koenig pioneered i n both developments, inventing a steam-powered cylinder press which was first used to print the London
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: THE PENNY PRESS
pulp to paper. T h e Fourdrinier process changed this and, after 1827, when it was first imported, was widely used i n America.
48
None of these improvements were unrelated to changes in transportation. T h e development of railroads and canals in the early nineteenth century made it possible for the best equipment i n manufacturing to reach a wider market. I n
Times of November 29, 1814. I t produced one
1810 the two-hundred-odd American papermills furnished
thousand sheets per hour per side, roughly ten times faster
newsprint only to nearby localities, but, during the 1830s,
than the best flatbed hand press. Still, i t was not instantly
railroad transportation began to carry the best products of the
accepted. T h e cylinder press required greater skill to use than
best machinery to more distant places. I n 1830 the United
the flatbed press, and the quality of the work i t produced was
States had only twenty-three miles of railroad. I n 1840 i t had
not great. Further, its productivity far outstripped the needs
three thousand and would have thirty thousand by the C i v i l
of most printers, so its use was confined to newspapers and
War.
magazines. T h e first two-cylinder press was the "Hoe T y p e Revolving Machine," Public Ledger
first
operated
for the
Philadelphia
44
Needless to say, these developments were crucial to the rise of high circulation newspapers and helped make it possible to
i n 1847. T h e Hoe machine, and its improve-
sell newspapers cheaply. (At the same time, one might add,
ments, became standard equipment for the world's newspa-
they made starting a newspaper a more weighty capital
pers in.the nineteenth century. T h e speed and convenience of
investment.) But the causal relationship did not go only one
the cylinder press were increased i n the 1850s and
way. Most of the early nineteenth century developments were
1860s
when "stereotyping" (casting plates for printing from molds)
merely mechanical—few could not have been developed, i n
was perfected for curved plates.
terms of the world's supply of knowledge, decades, or even
W h a t may have been the most important technical develop-
centuries, before. Invention i n p r i n t i n g and paper manufac-
ment of the early nineteenth century came i n paper manufac-
ture was not autonomous but was stimulated by other factors.
ture. D u r i n g the eighteenth century, scarcity of paper was the
The increasing demand for books and newspapers was what
greatest problem for printers. Paper was made p r i m a r i l y from
one historian of printing called a "permanent incentive to
rags. I n an early effort i n consumer ecology, popular educa-
invention."
tion stressed the preservation of rags which were then picked
pers themselves
up by carts to be taken to the paper mills. I n 1799, N . L .
subsidized by John Walter, proprietor of the Times.
Robert patented the Fourdrinier paper-making machine, still
America, the penny papers were consistently the first to
using rags for raw material. (Not until 1844 would a process
install the latest machinery i n printing. Indeed, it may be
be developed to make ground wood p u l p available for paper,
more accurate to say that the penny press introduced steam
and it was not introduced to the United States u n t i l 1866.) By
power to American journalism than to say that steam brought
the late eighteenth century, processes for reducing rags to
forth the penny press. T h e New
pulp had developed faster than processes for transforming the
edition on a flatbed hand-run press making two hundred
32
4 6
A far from negligible factor was that newspasupported
inventors. Koenig's w o r k
was In
York Sun printed its first
33
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
impressions an hour. W i t h i n a few months editor Benjamin
had been first to use new machinery i n printing. Penny
Day announced the purchase of a cylinder press making one
papers specifically, not newspapers generally, made use of the
thousand impressions an hour. By that time the Sun was
telegraph; the peculiar disposition of the penny press to seek
already a spectacular success, rivaling the largest six-penny
timely news, not an irresistible attraction of fast news service
papers i n the city w i t h a circulation of four thousand. By
in wartime, is important here.
i n the
T h e modern mass-circulation newspaper would be unimag-
country to purchase a steam-driven press, its circulation was
inable without the technical developments of the early nine-
1835, when the Sun
became the first newspaper
already approaching twenty thousand.
teenth century. T h e y obviously facilitated the rise of the
46
The development of the telegraph illustrates a similar
penny press. But they do not explain i t . Technological change
interaction between technological change and business enter-
was not autonomous and itself begs explanation. A n d while it
prise i n journalism. T h e telegraph came into use i n the 1840s,
made mass circulation newspapers possible, i t did not make
after the penny press had proved itself. T h e newspapers
them necessary or inevitable. Further, while the technological
encouraged the development of the telegraph, and this was
argument relates to the low cost and high circulation of the
especially true of a penny paper, the Baltimore Sun. T h e first
penny papers, it says nothing at all about their distinctive
telegraph line i n the United States was an experimental line
content.
between Washington and Baltimore. T h e Sun's early use of it encouraged wider acceptance of telegraphic communication,
The Literacy Argument
although most of the press, like most of the public, was at first
A second hypothesis is w o r t h considering. W e could say
47
that schooling and widespread literacy developed i n the
u n w i l l i n g to believe, or unable to comprehend, its promise.
The Sun's printing of the telegraphically communicated news
nineteenth century and stimulated the demand for newspa-
of President Polk's war message i n 1846 was reprinted i n
pers. Because new readers were unsophisticated, their tastes
Paris by the French Academy of Sciences alongside
tended to be simple, concrete, particular, and local. N o t only
an
authenticated copy of the original address; this demonstration
would this explain the growth of newspaper circulation, but it
of the accuracy of the telegraph helped persuade the French
would explain the emphasis i n the penny press on local news
government to make appropriations for a Paris-Brussels tele-
and human interest.
graph line.
48
W h i l e Robert Luther Thompson, i n his history
This hypothesis, which, like the technological argument,
of the American telegraph industry, argues that the outbreak
appears as a kind of reflex i n histories of journalism, is
of the war w i t h Mexico i n 1846 "virtually forced" newspa-
difficult to investigate. W h i l e i t is hard to trace the effects of
pers to use the telegraph, the evidence he cites suggests
technology, it is at least easy to know when technology is
something different. H e indicates that James Gordon Bennett
introduced or altered. I t is hard to know anything at all about
of the New York Herald,
York
literacy i n the early nineteenth century. Most historical
Sun,
studies of literacy are, at best, studies of illiteracy. T h a t is, we
Tribune,
Horace Greeley of the New
Moses Beach, the new editor of the New York
arid W i l l i a m Swain of the Philadelphia
Public Ledger
60
made
can know what percentage of married men i n a particular
the first and fullest use of telegraph services. Only the penny
village were so illiterate that they could not sign their own
press, then, exploited the telegraph, just as the penny papers
marriage certificates. But we do not know whether or not they
49
34
35
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
could read." N o r do we know what we can assume of those
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: THE PENNY PRESS
we might instead seek reasons why literacy would be neces
who did sign their own names. Could they have read a
sary or encouraged
broadside? a newspaper? the Bible? Blackstone? D i d they?
literacy. Rather than reading through the marriage records,
and presume
from that a growth i n
W o u l d they have wanted to or needed to?
we should look for the use of the written word i n advertising
Without literacy, large-circulation newspapers are impossi
posters and shop signs; we should look for the growth of
ble. But is an increase i n literacy i n itself a stimulus to
coffeehouses, artificial lighting, and newspapers. T h e appeal
68
newspaper circulation? There are good reasons to doubt i t . I n
in the history of newspapers, the history of books and
general, we make too much of a fetish of the term "literacy."
printing, and the history of literature and culture to the
The difference between not being able to read at a l l and being
changing "demands" of a growing literate public very nearly
able to read a bit may not be socially or psychologically
puts the cart before the horse. N o doubt it is true that a
significant; i t may not represent much of a leap i n mental
literate society is radically different from a nonliterate society,
powers or capacities for abstraction. I t may be simply a
and the invention of w r i t i n g was surely a sea change i n
marginal increase i n receptivity to an environment which
human consciousness.
64
But the spread of literacy to the
includes some print. Becoming literate is not primarily a
illiterate portion of a literate society is quite another matter—
question of the intelligence of the learner and the availability
more subtle, more complex, and, very likely, as much a result
of formal instruction; it has more to do w i t h the nature of the
of increased p r i n t i n g as a cause of i t .
environment and the character of instruction.
But even this formulation—that literacy follows induce
This condenses t w o points. T h e first point is that the
ments to it—is too narrowly conceived. T h i s is the second
nature , of the environment constrains the development of
point: learning to read is a social process dependent for its
literacy. " T h e most pervasive factor of all i n restricting
success on who is teaching, what kind of reading materials are
literacy," Ian W a t t writes of eighteenth-century England,
being used, and how the students feel about themselves. T h e
"was probably the lack of positive inducement to learn." H e
Brazilian educator, Paulo Freire, has written of the larger
goes on:
human context of literacy:
Being able to read was a necessary accomplishment only for those destined to the middle-class occupations—commerce, administration and the professions; and since reading is inherently a difficult psychological process and one which requires continual practice, it is likely that only a small proportion of the labouring classes who were technically literate developed into active members of the reading public, and further, that the majority of these were concen trated in those employments where reading and writing was a vocational necessity.
Learning to read and write ought to be açı opportunity for men to know what speaking the word really means: a human act implying reflection and action. As such it is a primordial human right and not the privilege of a few. Speaking the word is not a true act if it is not at the same time associated with the right of self-expression and world-expression, of creating and re-creating, of deciding and choosing and ultimately participating in society's historical process. 66
62
What would explain a rise i n literacy, then, i n a literate
I f W a t t is right that people learn to read when reading
society, would be an extension of political and economic rights
becomes important, then the literacy argument should be
or, more generally, an extension to more persons of the sense
inverted. Rather than looking for direct evidence of literacy,
that they are actors i n history. T h a t Americans were more
36
37
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
likely than Europeans to have this sense i n the eighteenth and
tion. Kenneth Lockridge's study of literacy i n colonial N e w
nineteenth centuries may help account for the
England is relevant here. Lockridge found that, i n 1660, 60
country's
reputation as unusually literate and attached to reading.
56
percent of N e w England males signed, their wills; it was 70
W h a t would account for an absence of widespread literacy
percent i n 1710, 85 percent i n 1760, and 90 percent by 1790.
in a literate society would be any conditions preventing the
H e estimates that half of those unable to sign wills could read.
participation of people i n the society's decision making. There
Thus, there was practically universal adult male literacy i n
is evidence for nineteenth century England w h i c h supports
New England by 1790. Lockridge links this to a Protestant
this. I t appears that the rudiments of literacy were available
educational impulse and strengthens his case by showing that
in England before literature developed to improve or exploit
literacy elsewhere i n the colonies was lower than i n N e w
it. There apparently was a literate working-class public able
England, while literacy i n other devoutly Protestant coun-
to read newspapers before 1820. T h e circulation of several of
tries—Scotland and Sweden—was remarkably h i g h .
the radical papers ran far ahead of that of the leading daily, the Times, or the leading weekly, the Observer. These latter papers had circulations only slightly larger than their sixpenny American counterparts. But Cobbett's two-penny Register ran forty to sixty thousand copies a week i n 1816-1817. T h e Northern Star sold ten thousand papers a week w i t h i n its first four months during the Chartist movement. A t its height
69
But what did the literacy of N e w England and Scotland and Sweden do for advances i n printing technology? W h a t did it do for newspaper circulation? I t did nothing at a l l . T h e main reading material remained religious books. T h e extraordinary literacy rate did not produce a secular press, and when the cheap, high-circulation press appeared, it did not appear in these areas of highest literacy but i n urban commercial
5
in 1839, it sold forty to sixty thousand copies a week. '
centers and, most of a l l , i n N e w York.
Was this a "demand" for newspapers? O r was it a result of "inducements" to a reading public? I f a demand, why was the
The Natural History Argument
demand so fitful, rising and falling w i t h the availability of
The literacy argument begs important questions, but it has
radical political papers and radical political hopes? I f a
the merit of being a genuine explanation—a statement of a
demand, w h y so specific, failing to increase the circulation of
cause and its consequences and an effort to trace a reasonable
the major dailies? I f a general "demand" for newspapers i n a
connection between them. Most histories of American news-
competitive market, w h y did i t fail to force the major dailies to
papers have sought only to describe, not to explain, the
lower their prices and seek a wider readership? T h e notion of
changes i n American journalism. They take a Whiggish tone,
"demand" explains nothing by itself. As for "inducements,"
intimating a natural progress toward the "modern" newspa-
there are different kinds, and the strictly occupational induce-
per, though they never bother to define what "modern"
ments that W a t t writes about, important as they may appear,
means. T h e progress they see is from a captive press to a free,
may be less vital than the whole range of social changes, many
independent press. Walter L i p p m a n n , i n an essay written i n
of them political, that enable persons to emerge from what Freire calls the "culture of silence."
1931, provides a statement of this position more elegant than
68
most but still representative of many of the works of histori-
T o state the case more modestly, literacy is a necessary, but
ans and journalists-turned-historians. L i p p m a n n suggests
not sufficient, condition for a growth i n newspaper circula-
that any nation's press w i l l naturally pass through stages of
rs
39
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
likely than Europeans to have this sense i n the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries may help account
for the
country's
reputation as unusually literate and attached to reading.
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
tion. Kenneth Lockridge's study of literacy i n colonial N e w England is relevant here. Lockridge found that, i n 1660, 60
66
percent of N e w England males signed , their wills; it was 70
W h a t would account for an absence of widespread literacy
percent i n 1710, 85 percent i n 1760, and 90 percent by 1790.
i n a literate society would be any conditions preventing the
H e estimates that half of those unable to sign wills could read.
participation of people i n the society's decision making. There
Thus, there was practically universal adult male literacy i n
is evidence for nineteenth century England which supports
New England by 1790. Lockridge links this to a Protestant
this. I t appears that the rudiments of literacy were available
educational impulse and strengthens his case by showing that
in England before literature developed to improve or exploit
literacy elsewhere i n the colonies was lower than i n N e w
it. There apparently was a literate working-class public able
England, while literacy i n other devoutly Protestant coun-
to read newspapers before 1820. T h e circulation of several of
tries—Scotland and Sweden—was remarkably high.
the radical papers ran far ahead of that of the leading daily, the Times, or the leading weekly, the Observer. These latter papers had circulations only slightly larger than their sixpenny American counterparts. B u t Cobbett's two-penny Register ran forty to sixty thousand copies a week i n 1816-1817. T h e Northern Star sold ten thousand papers a week w i t h i n its first four months during the Chartist movement. A t its height in 1839, it sold forty to sixty thousand copies a week.
69
But what did the literacy of N e w England and Scotland and Sweden do for advances i n printing technology? W h a t did it do for newspaper circulation? I t did nothing at a l l . T h e main reading material remained religious books. The extraordinary literacy rate did not produce a secular press, and when the cheap, high-circulation press appeared, it did not appear in these areas of highest literacy but i n urban commercial
67
centers and, most of all, i n N e w York.
Was this a "demand" for newspapers? O r was i t a result of "inducements" to a reading public? I f a demand, why was the
The Natural History Argument
demand so fitful, rising and falling w i t h the availability of
The literacy argument begs important questions, but it has
radical political papers and radical political hopes? I f a
the merit of being a genuine explanation—a statement of a
demand, w h y so specific, failing to increase the circulation of
cause and its consequences and an effort to trace a reasonable
the major dailies? I f a general "demand" for newspapers i n a
connection between them. Most histories of American news-
competitive market, w h y did i t fail to force the major dailies to
papers have sought only to describe, not to explain, the
lower their prices and seek a wider readership? T h e notion of
changes i n American journalism. They take a Whiggish tone,
"demand" explains nothing by itself. As for "inducements,"
intimating a natural progress toward the "modern" newspa-
there are different kinds, and the strictly occupational induce-
per, though they never bother to define what "modern"
ments that W a t t writes about, important as they may appear,
means. T h e progress they see is from a captive press to a free,
may be less vital than the whole range of social changes, many
independent press. Walter L i p p m a n n , i n an essay written i n
of them political, that enable persons to emerge from what
1931, provides a statement of this position more elegant than
Freire calls the "culture of silence."
68
most but still representative of many of the works of histori-
T o state the case more modestly, literacy is a necessary, but
ans and journalists-turned-historians. L i p p m a n n suggests
not sufficient, condition for a growth i n newspaper circula-
that any nation's press w i l l naturally pass through stages of
rs
39
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
development. I n the first stage, the press is a monopoly
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
This is right, on the whole, for the period since the 1830s,
controlled by government. T h e press then passes to a stage
wrong for any time before that. Part of the significance of the
where political parties, not government, control publication.
penny papers is precisely that they created a struggle for
I n the third stage, the press breaks from both government and
circulation. T h i s is not the only instance where Park read a
party "by enlisting the commercially profitable support of a large body of readers." I n the United States, of course, this stage begins w i t h the penny papers. L i p p m a n n sights a fourth, or "professional," era i n journalism emerging after W o r l d W a r I . When this stage should reach full flower, he writes, newspapers w o u l d institutionalize the use of "trained intelligence." T h e y would be so attached to the conscientious pursuit of an "approximation to objective fact" that they would be free even of the changing tastes and prejudices of the public itself.
60
L i p p m a n n intended to help usher i n this final stage, but his essay suggests that it w i l l evolve of its o w n accord. T h e view that the development of the press is governed by a selfexplanatory evolutionary dynamic is made explicit i n one of the few significant sociological comments on the press, Robert Park's 1925 essay, " T h e N a t u r a l History of the Newspaper": The newspaper, like the modern city, is not wholly a rational product. No one sought to make it just what it is. In spite of all the efforts of individual men and generations of men to control it and to make it something after their own heart, it has continued to grow and change in its own incalculable ways. 01
The history of a newspaper, then, is a natural history, the story of the unfolding evolution of a social form. T h e modern newspaper is "the type that has survived under the conditions of modern life," and so the natural history of the press is the history of this "surviving species." I t is, Park writes, "an account of the conditions under which the existing newspaper has grown up and taken f o r m . " Park then makes a further specification: the struggle for
modern assumption of journalism back into the past. H e argued that the first newspapers were "simply devices for organizing gossip." I n fact, the first newspapers were more attuned to business and political news than anything resembling local "gossip." Park emphasized gossip, incorrectly, because he was t r y i n g to establish that the newspaper was an important institution i n the transition of social life
from
tradition to modernity, from village to city, from "community" to "society." Thus he argued that "the work of the newspaper, as a gatherer and interpreter of the news, was but an extension of the function which was otherwise performed spontaneously by the community itself through the medium of personal contact and gossip." According to Park, the newspaper has the same function i n modern society that gossip took in the traditional village. H o w well does it serve its function? Park's answer was foreordained by his governing D a r w i n i a n assumptions: " H u m a n l y speaking, the present newspapers are about as good as they can be." Park's essay is important because his
self-consciousness
about "natural history" makes explicit what would most probably be the standard explanation of the history of A m e r i can journalism, i f standard histories of journalism sought selfconsciously to be explanatory. I t is a "natural history" Lippmann offers i n his stages of the growing independence of newspapers (or, as i t might be better put, the changing character of the dependence of newspapers, which bowed first to government, then to parties, then to the public, and finally to the professionals). I t is a natural history, often selfcongratulatory or self-serving, seldom self-evident, that most histories of newspapers provide. T h e basic reference work is
existence, for a newspaper, is the struggle for circulation.
40
41
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
Frank Luther M o t t ' s American
Journalism,
an invaluable
chronicle—but only a chronicle, characterized by what M o t t
THE A G E OF EGALITARIANISM: THE PENNY PRESS
their own history and, sometimes, even unmake the conditions and conventions that guided them.
calls his "sympathetic admiration" for American journalism and his conviction that "no generalization about it is safe." (No
62
generalization is safe, but we live by them and w i t h
them.)
T h e A g e of E g a l i t a r i a n i s m a n d t h e Press
M o t t offers no overarching explanation of changes i n American journalism. Where he does seek to explain pieces of the puzzle, he is brief and unconvincing. H e lists four factors
The 1830s are commonly known as the "Jacksonian era" or
to account for the g r o w t h of newspaper circulation between
the age of "Jacksonian
1833 and 1860. First, the population grew. Second, public
history of the United States by Allen Nevins and H e n r y Steele
education and increased literacy created "a nation of readers."
Commager titles the chapter on this period
Democracy." A standard
pocket
"Jacksonian
T h i r d , more democratic forms of government increased popu-
Democracy Sweeps I n . " T h e authors summarize Jackson's
lar interest i n public affairs. Finally, the reduction i n newspa-
creed as "faith i n the common man; belief i n political equal-
per prices made the press available to poorer people. B u t why,
ity; belief i n equal economic opportunity; hatred of monopoly,
for instance, were newspaper prices reduced? M o t t acknowl-
special privilege, and the intricacies of capitalistic finance."
edges only the technological improvements i n presses and
They argue that Jackson's policies implemented this creed
paper-making which made cheaper papers possible. W h y did
and that a democratic wave swept the country i n the form of
only the penny papers lower prices? M o t t does not say. H e
manhood suffrage, informal manners, a cheap press, public
identifies the penny press w i t h the industrial revolution, but
schooling, and the advance of the religious sects most demo-
he is most laconic i n defining what this means. H e tells us
cratic i n their governance.
only that "behind i t all was the machine."
64
For a l l the abuse this view has taken i n the past decade or
63
I n one respect, I w i l l emulate Park's advice, i f not his
two, it does not seem to me to have been seriously tarnished.
example. Park called for an account of the "conditions" that
Rather than destroying the view of the 1830s as a democratic
brought into being the newspaper as we know i t . I w i l l t r y to
era, revisionist historians have just located the egalitarianism
provide such an accounting. But to do so is not to write a
more precisely, not i n the person or party of Jackson, but i n a
natural history nor to write a history without explanation.
sharp democratization of both business and politics that
The endeavor does not take inevitability for granted, nor does
transcended party. Revisionists have shown that long before
it assume that the important factors are unconnected
to
Jackson, as Tocqueville and other European visitors observed,
conscious human activity. O n the contrary, the inadequacies
the United States was more democratic i n politics and man-
of the arguments about technology and about literacy stem
ners than European nations. T h e y have shown, sometimes i n
from their eagerness for technical solutions which bypass
excruciating detail, that wealth was not more evenly distribut-
considerations of how individual and collective human choices
ed i n the 1830s than before—indeed, it appears that the
are made. Constrained by social circumstances, people make
contrary may be true.
42
66
Douglas M i l l e r has even argued that
43
I
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
America had become progressively more democratic from
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: THE PENNY PRESS
in the cities were jostled by a newer, more numerous group of
1789 to the 1820s and that the Jacksonian period reversed
enterprising capitalists whose advance culminated symbolical-
this development; the gentry declined, but a wealthy capitalist
ly, i f not practically, i n the assault on the United States Bank.
class replaced it so that visions of a classless society were belied i n the very years i n which they were most fervently discussed.
economy, a l l came to meet at the common forum of the New
66
But all this, it seems to me, far from being an attack on the idea that the 1830s were an egalitarian age, confirms just that hypothesis. Equality i n the 1830s and 1840s meant
There was not a sharp division between the old gentry and the new wealth; i n N e w York, the center of the nation's
the
opening of careers to talent, the opening of opportunity to persons regardless of b i r t h or breeding. That is what the age of Jackson celebrated. A n even distribution of income had nothing to do w i t h i t . But more people acquired wealth and political power and brought w i t h them a zeal for equal
York Stock Exchange. B u t the Exchange itself, founded i n 1817 and not of much significance until the late 1820s, symbolized the new economic order. economic life was i n progress.
68
67
A democratization of
By this I mean simply that
more people were entering into a cash (and credit) nexus by becoming investors and by consuming goods produced outside the household and that their attitudes and ambitions were increasingly conditioned by this fact.
opportunity that led to the expansion of public education, the
Economic development was promoted and shared by many
denial of government-granted monopolies to corporations and
rather than few. T h i s is well illustrated i n the financing of the
more flexible procedures for incorporating, the abolition of licensing regulations for doctors and lawyers, and other reforms we identify as "Jacksonian." I t seems clear that i n the United States, not unlike France and England i n the same era, the angry shouts of "aristocracy" and "monopoly" came primarily from a growing urban middle class, while the epithets "anarchy" and "democracy" were hurled at this bourgeoisie by established mercantile elites. Contrary to Tocqueville and contrary to the implications of the revisionists, America did have to suffer a democratic revolution. I t did so beginning i n the years after 1815 and reaching a height i n the 1830s and 1840s. I n those decades the country was transformed from a liberal mercantilist republic, still cradled i n aristocratic values, family, and deference, to an egalitarian market democracy, where money had new power, the individual new standing, and the pursuit of self-interest new honor. This is what Fenimore Cooper, on his return from Europe, had sensed and feared. I n the 1830s, established mercantile and financial leaders
44
railroads. Between 1830 and 1850, the miles of track rose from less than one hundred to nearly nine thousand. T h e rails were promoted by the large and small merchants of the chief seaport cities. W h e n the Western Railroad i n Massachusetts was financed i n 1835, i t had 2,800 individual stockholders, most of them owning from one to four hundred-dollar shares. The largest stockholder had just 200 shares and the 100 largest stockholders together held less than 40 percent of the stock.
69
W h a t private capital came'to the railroads before
1860, historian George Taylor observes, came from "a m u l t i tude of private savers, both large and s m a l l . "
70
After the W a r of 1812 and especially after the depression of 1818, investment shifted from shipping to manufacturing and transportation. Booming economic conditions i n the South and West i n the 1820s led to increased demand i n those regions for the manufactured goods of the Northeast—textiles, leather products, clothes, shoes, and farm machinery. More and more products were included i n the market; fewer things were made at home for home use. By 1830, the radical
45
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
shift from homemade to shop- and factory-made goods was
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
textiles, but also services were sold i n the market. For
T h e comment is instructive: socializing was coming to be seen as, and perhaps to some extent coming to be, a barrier to economic success, not its prerequisite.
instance, people turned from home care and home remedies to
T h e bourgeois revolution of the Jacksonian period was as
well along, especially i n the Northeast. N o t only goods, like
doctors and patent medicines for their health needs. Doctors
visible i n politics as i n business. By the 1820s the party system
could compete favorably w i t h family care because the i m -
of the early years of the Republic had collapsed. T h o u g h
provement of roads and the concentration of population i n cities dramatically cut the cost of a physician's home visit.
71
T h e penny papers themselves contributed directly to the
fourteen states had had relatively well-established two-party systems, by 1824 only five states still had elections contested in terms of the old party designations of Federalist and
extension of the market i n two ways. First, they made
Republican. But a "second American party system" emerged
advertisements more available to more people and so enlarged
between 1828 and 1840. I t was not a continuation or revival
the potential market for manufactured goods. Second, they
of the earlier system. I t was something quite new. For one
transformed the newspaper from something to be borrowed or
thing, electoral regulations changed what politics meant. I n
read at a club or library to a product one bought for home
1800 only two states chose presidential electors by popular
consumption. Isaac C l a r k Pray observed that matches, which
vote, but after
replaced the t i n box and flint and steel, became popular about
property qualification for voting, boldly advocated by the likes
the same time as the penny press and had this same effect:
1832 only South Carolina did not. T h e
of John Adams as late as 1820, died out. By 1840, i n most states, universal white manhood suffrage
was so widely
The cheap matches and the cheap newspapers were sold in every street/ Families before this, had borrowed coals of fire and newspapers of their richer neighbors. With the reduced prices, each family had a pride in keeping its own match-box, and in taking its favorite daily journal.
Party machinery replaced the legislative caucus; formal orga-
T h e democratization of economic life brought w i t h i t
nization supplanted the informality and avocational character
72
supported that i t was a political liability to have ever advocated anything else.
74
Probably more important, party organization
changed.
attitudes that stressed economic gain to the exclusion of social
of the old politics. T h i s meant, among other things, that there
aims; business practice more regularly began to reward strict-
was simply more political work to be done, and patronage and
ly economic ties over broader ones. A poor boy from Connecti-
prestige attracted men from different social strata to do i t .
cut who became a successful New Y o r k businessman, recall-
"For increasing numbers
ing this period, observed that N e w England boys did better than native N e w Yorkers i n store, counting room, and office work. H e gave two explanations:
of men," Richard
McCormick
writes, "politics, or more specifically the operation of party machinery, was to become a vocation."
76
Indeed, Richard
Hofstadter has for this reason offered M a r t i n V a n Buren, rather than Andrew Jackson, as the representative figure of
One is, they are not afraid to work, or to run errands, or do cheerfully what they are told to do. A second reason, they do their work quickly. A New York boy has many acquaintances—a New England boy has none, and is not called upon to stop and talk, when sent out by the merchant.' 3
46
Jacksonian Democracy. V a n Buren was one of the "new breed" of political leaders. H e and other members of N e w York's "Albany Regency" were prototypes of the new class of professional politicians. V a n Buren, like two other members
47
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
of the Regency, was the son of a tavernkeeper; others i n the group had grown up on farms, and few had formal education. Hofstadter describes them: They were, in short, modern political professionals who love the bonhomie of political gatherings, a coterie of more-or-less equals who relied for success not on the authority of a brilliant charismatic leader but on their solidarity, patience, and discipline. Their party gave them a creed, a vocation and a congenial social world all in one. It is hardly surprising that they should have developed a firm and self-conscious awareness of the imperatives of party organization, and have laid down a comprehensive set of canons for its management.'" These new professionals did not re-establish old parties r u n
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: THE PENNY PRESS
tradition, and deference i n politics. Antiparty feelings persisted into the 1830s, especially among the Whigs, but i t was dying, and what Richard Hofstadter calls "the idea of a party system" was born. I n the 1830s people began to i d e n t i f y deeply—with political parties. Historian Ronald Formisano writes that i t was i n this period that "mass party loyalty as a stable basis came into being for the first time i n American history." 79
The democratization of business and politics i n the 1830s suggests a framework for understanding the revolution i n journalism i n the same period. T h e social upheaval i n America, like that i n England i n the same years, was characterized by a lot of rhetoric about "democracy," some working class
by personal cliques but invented new organizations, popularly
agitation, arid some socialist and unionizing efforts, but
based and democratically r u n .
primarily i t was a middle-class revolution. T h i s is not to
T h e new parties were doctrinally, as well as institutionally, new. They shared more w i t h one another than w i t h either the Federalists or the Republicans of an earlier day.
77
I n the
diminish it but to identify i t . England's celebrated Reform Bill of 1832,. both promoted and feared at the time as the ultimate democratization of the body politic, only modestly
1830s both Whigs and Democrats subscribed to principles of
enlarged the voting population". But at the same time, the
political democracy that neither Federalists nor Republicans
Reform B i l l was the beginning of changes reaching far
would have recognized. T h e meaning of politics, as well as
beyond the relative insignificance of its immediate practical
the nature of politicians, had changed. Leadership i n the past had been defined by "the problems and responsibilities of general
development" i n society, but leadership became "a
task of representing a particular element of the system and attempting to secure its objectives through conflict and compromise w i t h the other elements."
78
I n other words, the old
politics had focused on what was right; the new politics centered on who was rightful, who could amass the most units of private interest, rather than who could define the general interest. I n the old politics, the very idea of party was suspect. Party
achievement. T h e same was true i n the United States. T h e Age of Egalitarianism i n America was no special friend to the common person, the laborer, the immigrant. I t was more the day of the skilled craftsmen, the small and large merchants, the small and large tradesmen who were able to move up i n the worlds of politics and business and transform those worlds. Here, too, the entering wedge of a commercial middle class brought w i t h i t new institutions and a new consciousness that would radically affect every stratum of society. This framework for understanding the 1830s helps explain and is itself illuminated by the penny press. T h e founding of
had been associated w i t h everything particular, artificial, and
the penny papers is evidence of the new kind of entrepreneur
selfish. Antiparty sentiment was identified w i t h community,
and the new type of enterprise the 1830s encouraged. The
48
49
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
qualities contemporaries admired or detested i n these papers—relative independence from party, low price, high circulation, emphasis on news, timeliness, sensation—have to do w i t h the rise of an urban middle class. T h e nature of the connection between the middle class and the new journalism can be appreciated by looking more closely at the most important of the penny papers, the New York
Herald.
T h e S o c i a l S t a n d i n g of t h e P e n n y Press James Gordon Bennett was born i n Scotland i n 1795, a Catholic on Calvinist soil. A t the age of twenty-four he emigrated to H a l i f a x . After teaching school, clerking, and proofreading i n Halifax, i n Addison, M a i n e , i n Boston, and i n N e w York, he got his first serious newspaper experience on the Charleston
Courier i n 1822. A year later he was back i n
New York, w r i t i n g for various journals. I n 1827 and 1828 he
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: THE PENNY PRESS
He was a coarse and vigorous writer, but excelled more in organization and enterprise. He was never troubled with principles, or accustomed to espouse and defend a cause from any far-sighted conviction, or faith in the nobler springs of human action. The character of the man has been reflected by his works. Under him, the Herald was the first of American papers, indeed, the first journal in the world, to apprehend the truth that the collection of news at any price was the first duty of journalism. This was the conviction and the faith which served M r . Bennett in place of every other. The Herald, though fickle in politics and worthless in editorial judgment, thus became the symbol of newspaper enterprise all over the world we must not deny to M r . Bennett his place in journalism, as the great teacher and enforcer of the principle that in devotion to news-gathering lies at once the first duty and chief profit of a newspaper. Though other papers have in more recent years excelled the Herald in this respect, the first enunciation and demonstration of the principle will be yielded by history and popular tradition to M r . Bennett. 80
What made the Herald so successful? W h y was it the American paper most widely read i n Europe? W h o were the people who read it and why?
as a
While we can safely assume from the low price of the
Washington correspondent, during which time he enlivened
penny papers and their large circulation that many more l o w -
served James Watson Webb's New
York
Enquirer
Washington reporting, making newspaper discourse less a
and middle-income persons bought the penny papers than
simple record of events and more a news "story." Bennett
purchased
the six-penny sheets, we cannot assume that
worked for Webb u n t i l 1832, after which he tried to set up a
wealthy people did not read the penny papers. I n fact, i t may
paper of his own. I n 1835, w i t h five hundred dollars, a few
be that "new money"—the people investing i n stocks and
months shy of his fortieth birthday, he began the New
yearning for respectability—was very attracted to the penny
Herald.
York
H e remained its editor u n t i l his death i n 1872.
There is no question that Bennett was the most original
papers, especially to the Herald.
L i k e other penny editors,
Bennett sought a wide readership for his paper, but he
figure i n American journalism, at least u n t i l Joseph Pulitzer.
repeatedly tried to distinguish its editorial course, not only
N o r is there any doubt that the Herald
from the six-penny papers, but from the other penny sheets,
was the most
important and widely read American newspaper i n the dec-
as i n this comment on M a y 20, 1835:
ades before the C i v i l W a r . W h e n Bennett died, Samuel
The small daily papers around us were solely directed to mere police reports, melancholy accidents, or curious extracts. They indicated no mind, no intelligence, no knowledge of society at large. The larger [papers] were many of them without talent and without
Bowles, editor of the Springfield
Republican,
praisal of Bennett and the Herald
which judiciously sums up
the consensus:
50
wrote an ap-
51
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
interest. There was plenty of room, therefore, for a cheap paper managed on our plan, calculated to circulate among all ranks and conditions; to interest the merchant and man of learning, as well as the mechanic and the man of labor. 81
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: THE PENNY PRESS
have necessarily crowded out of its columns a great deal of local and amusing matter which is interesting to the public at large. 85
For this reason, he went on, the Chronicle to take up the slack.
A year later Bennett distinguished the Herald
from the six-
penny papers, arguing that this " W a l l Street press" was at the mercy of powerful interests: " T h e banks and corrupt cliques of men control them altogether." he distinguished the Herald boasting of the Herald's
82
86
would be published
T h i s tends to indicate that the
Herald
itself was appealing to the practical needs and somewhat refined tastes of a well-to-do segment of the city's population. I n the same issue that published a rather scholarly "History
O n the other hand,
of Banking" over the first three columns of page one, Bennett
from his penny brethren. I n
editorialized on his own independence and intelligence, again
circulation—10,000 at the time—he
distinguishing himself from the six-pennies, while courting
compared i t only to the W a l l Street press, the largest repre-
the readership of those w i t h money to invest. Bennett was
sentative of which was the Courier
proud that the Herald
and Enquirer
with a
appealed to the wealthy classes:
circulation of 6,400. H e justified excluding the penny papers from tabulation w i t h disparaging remarks about the
fluctu-
ations i n their circulation:
No newspaper establishment, in this or any other country, has ever attained so extensive a circulation, or is read by so many of the business, educated, and intelligent classes. 87
For instance, the Sun publishes, probably, about 15,000, but great quantities are never read, and indeed the proprietors find it as profitable to sell their paper for wrapping up tea and enveloping hog's lard, as. for any other purpose. 83
The readership Bennett sought, his contemporary biographer claims he attained. Isaac Pray wrote that by T 839 the Herald,
w i t h a circulation equal to the London
Times, was
The penny press, he wrote, loses half its circulation i n winter
"respected for its valuable statistics and thoughts by commer-
when the loafers who make up such a large part of its
cial men and statesmen, while its idiosyncrasies i n literature
readership are not on the street. H e criticized the penny
and i n social life kept i t , i n spite of the most determined
papers for having no talent, no knowledge of business, and no
opposition, under the eye of the fashionable and of the
acquaintance w i t h society.
middling classes." H e also observed that the money article,
84
serious
Bennett's innovation and special pet, "is the most important
and responsible than the penny press, more lively and enter-
department of a public press, but only one journal i n ten
Bennett sought a middle road for the Herald—more
prising than the W a l l Street papers. T h e middle road was marked when Bennett raised the price of the Herald
to two
cents on August 19, 1836. Nine months later Bennett indicated the direction he hoped the Herald
would take when he
announced the publication of the Evening
Chronicle,
an
evening version of the Herald: The extraordinary increase in popularity of the Herald as a commercial, business, and general newspaper of the highest rank,
52
seems to be aware of the importance of making it independent, searching, and i m p a r t i a l . "
88
The . "money article" deserves special attention. I n the money article, a daily feature of the Herald from its inception, Bennett did for financial reporting what he had done years before for the coverage of Washington politics—he turned the recording of facts into the analysis of the shape of events. As Bennett put i t :
53
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
The spirit, pith, and philosophy of commercial affairs is what men of business want. Dull records of facts, without condensation, analysis, or deduction, are utterly useless. The philosophy of commerce is what we aim at, combined with accuracy, brevity, and spirit. 89
Reporting the "mere details" of the markets was not enough, Bennett wrote on another occasion; only an account of "broad leading features" is of general interest to merchants."
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: THE PENNY PRESS
There is another kind of evidence to indicate that Bennett gained the new middle-class readership he was seeking. T h i s lies i n the fact that the W a l l Street papers singled out Bennett for attack rather than assaulting all of the cheap papers. Further, their attacks apparently had some success i n reducing the Herald's
circulation. Whatever may have been the
case w i t h the other penny papers, the Herald
appealed to an
expanded and expanding class of people who emulated the
Bennett missed no opportunity to crow about the popularity of his money article: " I have struck out the true Baconian
respectability the W a l l Street papers stood for and were influenced by their claims of the disrepute of the Herald.
By
91
path i n commercial science, and i t must succeed." I n January, 1837, he quoted the New Orleans American that the money reports of the Herald and would be published for American
as saying
were "comprehensive" readers. Other com-
mercial papers, i n almost every large city, Bennett claimed, felt the same way. " W e have every reason to believe that the W a l l Street Reports of the H e r a l d are beginning a new era of commercial intelligence and commercial science."
92
When
Bennett announced circulation gains, he frequently would attribute them to the quality of his commercial reporting and the attraction of his paper for the business classes.
98
well-founded. Even Bennett's enemies acknowledged the popAdver-
tiser attacked the Albany Argus for defending the reputation of the Herald,
just 14,460, down from 17,000. N o t until 1844 did the
Herald
recover its earlier popularity. T h e " M o r a l W a r " was a campaign of the six-penny papers to put the Herald
out of business. Supported by some papers
in Boston and Philadelphia, N e w York's leading six-penny papers charged Bennett w i t h indecency, blasphemy, blackmail, lying, and libel. T h e Journal mercial Advertiser,
and the Courier
of Commerce,
the Com-
and Enquirer
all pro-
claimed that they were abandoning the policy of not mention-
There is good reason to believe that Bennett's boasts were ularity of the money article. I n 1840 the Commercial
Bennett's own report, his daily circulation, two years after the W a l l Street papers began their " M o r a l W a r " i n 1840, was
and i t reprinted the Argus piece i t criticized.
ing the Herald
i n their columns and began to attack Bennett
directly, either i n their o w n editorials or i n reprinting anti¬ Herald
pieces from other papers. Advertisers i n the
were threatened. The Courier of public amusement
content of the Herald,
Herald*
article:
which continued to advertise i n the
I t wrote that gentlemen would not buy newspapers
from newsboys who also sold the Herald—-this
We are aware that a thousand motives operate on those who buy the Herald to read, but we venture to say that nearly all its regular subscribers take the paper for these articles.
Herald
said that N e w
York editors had made an agreement not to take ads for places
The Argus wrote that it would not defend nine-tenths of the but i t felt otherwise about the money
and Enquirer
was both a report and a recommendation.
96
apparently
T h e Herald
was
declared off-limits to self-respecting men and women, which
94
The money articles, the Argus said, had given the
Herald
suggests that the self-respecting men and women the established papers courted had been reading the Herald.
Hotels,
influence w i t h American property holders and capitalists at
reading rooms, and clubs were cajoled into excluding Ben-
home and abroad. T h e Commercial Advertiser did not deny it.
nett's "dirty sheet," thereby indicating that the Herald
54
had
55
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
found its way into hotels, reading rooms, and clubs patronized by the well-to-do.
97
T h e " M o r a l W a r " of N e w Y o r k journalism has
the
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: THE PENNY PRESS
times. T h e y loathed and feared the bourgeoisie, not the poor: "The whole romantic movement i n America," Charvat concludes, "may be considered i n part as a protest against the new bourgeoisie." 100
earmarks of other moral wars of the same period. These crusades were the shields of an old elite jousting w i t h a rising middle class. T h e temperance movement i n the 1820s, for
I n this context, it is clear that the " M o r a l W a r " on the New
York Herald,
while a matter of business competition,
instance, has been described as "the reaction of the old
was not simply that. W h y should competition take this
Federalist aristocracy to loss of political, social, and religious
peculiar form? W h y didn't the six-penny papers lower their
98
dominance i n American society." Something similar could be said of the early abolitionist movement. O f 106 leaders i n the movement who had become abolitionists before 1840, all came from Federalist families, according to David Donald's research. T h e i r fathers had been preachers, doctors, or teachers, a few merchants, a few manufacturers. A l l but one of the sons were anti-Jacksonians. T h e abolitionists were men displaced in a new world. They were not hostile to labor but indifferent to i t ; what they objected to was a society increasingly dependent on trade and manufacturing and the ethics of the marketplace. T h e y did not question capitalism or private property, but they objected to "the transfer of leadership to the wrong groups i n society," and they took to abolitionism to assert some moral authority over the commercial middle class.
prices, increase their reporting of news, expand their coverage of the stock market, make their w r i t i n g more lively, change their mode of distribution, and take advantage of their ties to the business community to increase advertising
revenue?
Some of them, i n time, did do many of these things. But their first response came not as a matter of shrewd calculation i n a competitive market. T h e six-penny editors did not understand their roles or responsibilities i n n a r r o w l y economic terms. Their moral wars were not so much business competition as deadly serious social conflict, a class conflict i n which they were on the defensive against a new way of being i n the w o r l d which we a w k w a r d l y summarize as "middle class" and which was symbolized and strengthened by the rise of the penny press.
"Basically," Donald concludes, "abolitionism should be considered the anguished protest of an aggrieved class against a world they never made."
99
W i l l i a m Charvat makes a similar argument about the
Conclusion
romantic movement i n American literature i n the 1830s and 1840s. Hawthorne, Emerson, and Thoreau paid almost no
Modern journalism, which is customarily and appropriately
attention to the depression that lasted from 1837 to 1842,
traced to the penny papers, had its origins i n the emergence of
closing nine-tenths of American factories i n its first six
a democratic market society. W h a t "democratic market soci-
months. O f course, N e w England was the area of the country
ety" means has already been indicated, but needs to be
least affected by the depression, and these were N e w England
restated and amplified.
writers. But probably more important, the income of these
replacement of a political culture of gentry rule by the ideal
writers was relatively steady. They believed the
reckless
speculation of the commercial middle class brought on the bad
56
By "democratic," I refer to the
and the institutional fact of mass democracy. After the 1830s,
57
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
THE AGE OF EGALITARIANISM: T H E PENNY PRESS
the assumption that one had to have a propertied stake i n
neighborhood, and social circle. As the nineteenth century
society to be a reliable voter and that an elect, rather than an
viewed it, "community" was the world of the Brueghel
electorate, should govern could no longer be maintained.
paintings of peasants—a group of people which, at work or at
Indeed, i t could not even be voiced w i t h impunity. As I have
play, was at one w i t h itself. I n contrast, "society" was the
indicated, the beginnings of the modern American system of
rather g r i m world of the city, the stranger, and the individual.
bureaucratic, non-ideological parties can be traced to the
As sociologist Louis W i r t h described it i n a classic essay on
Jacksonian democratization of politics.
"Urbanism as a W a y of L i f e , " urban living involved "the
But "democratization" was not solely political either i n its
substitution of secondary for p r i m a r y contacts, the weakening
causes or consequences. T h e growth of a market economy in
of bonds of kinship, and the declining social significance of the
the 1820s and 1830s integrated and rationalized American
family, the disappearance of the neighborhood, and the u n -
economic life—but i t did more than this. N o t only did more
dermining of the traditional basis of social solidarity."
1 0 2
range of goods participate i n the
T h e differences between community and society, rural life
marketplace, but a culture of the market became a more
and urban, tradition and modernity, agricultural and indus-
people and a greater
pervasive feature of human consciousness. A n d this culture, i t
trial worlds have been exaggerated, and dependence on these
is fair to say, 'was democratic. I n the market there were no
terms as theoretical constructs has sometimes been mislead-
special categories and privileges. L a n d could be bought and
ing.
sold, and even human labor had a price set by supply and
from self-sufficent family economies to market-based com-
108
Nevertheless, w i t h the movement from country to city,
demand, not by custom. I n the market, one individual was as
mercial and manufacturing economies, people came unstuck
good as the next; i n the ideology of the marketplace, a l l
from the cake of custom, found chances to form individual
individuals acting separately to promote their own advantage
personalities, and faced new possibilities of impersonality in
would produce the greatest possible aggregate wealth for
the social relations of modern life. H u m a n ties, once conferred
society as a whole. I t became more acceptable to think of
by family and residence,
became more subject to choice.
"self-interest" as the mainspring of human behavior and,
Nowhere was this more true than i n the United States, which
indeed, i n the theory of the market, as a motive to be admired,
all of Europe recognized i n the 1830s as the leading experiment i n untraditional social organization, politics, and cul-
not distrusted. T h e w o r d "society" i n the phrase "democratic market
ture. A n d nowhere was the American w o r l d more novel than
society" is probably the most difficult to p i n down. "Society"
in the cities of the Eastern seaboard—Boston, Baltimore,
is not only a general term referring to any human social
Philadelphia, and, most of a l l , N e w York. A city, as Richard
organization but an historical ideal type characterizing the
Sennett has concisely defined i t , is "a human settlement i n
modern social order. I t is distinguished from "community." Only i n the nineteenth century did this distinction become a prominent theme i n politics and i n social thought.
101
A n d no
wonder: there was little we could identify as "society" before then. " C o m m u n i t y " i n the nineteenth century came to mean the old w o r l d of face-to-face human ties—of family, kinship,
58
which strangers are likely to meet."
1 0 4
T h i s was the problem
and the hope of the cities; this was the meaning of the "society" coming into being. A t the same time that people became free to feel themselves as new and important beings, they also came to feel the weight of social relationships and social institutions—society took on an existence objectified
59
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
outside the person. O n the one hand, living became more of a
CHAPTER 2
spectacle of watching strangers i n the streets, reading about them i n the newspapers, dealing w i t h them i n shops and factories and offices. O n the other hand, as people understood their own ordinary lives to be of value and of possible interest
TELLING STORIES:
to others, they both sought strangers as audiences or publics and avoided them to protect a private space for the self.
105
JOURNALISM AS
This was the w o r l d i n which modern journalism took root. There were r u r a l papers, hundreds of them, but the papers
A VOCATION AFTER 1880
which set the standard for journalism then and passed on their legacy to the present were urban. There were party papers, there were socialist papers and labor papers, there were business papers, but, again, the papers to which modern journalism clearly traces its roots were the middle-class penny papers. These papers, whatever their political
preferences,
were spokesmen for egalitarian ideals i n politics, economic
IN
D E C E M B E R , 1896, W i l l i a m Randolph Hearst, a
life, and social life through their organization of sales, their
newcomer to New York journalism who had recently become
solicitation of advertising, their emphasis on news, their
owner and editor-of the New
York Journal,
sent Richard
catering to large audiences, their decreasing concern w i t h the
H a r d i n g Davis and Frederic Remington to Havana to cover
editorial.
the conflict there between Spanish authorities and Cuban
T h e penny papers expressed and built the culture of a
insurgents. Remington was a thirty-five-year-old artist whose
democratic market society, a culture which had no place for
drawings appeared frequently i n newspapers and popular
social or intellectual deference. T h i s was the groundwork on
magazines. Davis, at thirty-two, was already a popular cul-
which a belief i n facts and a distrust of the reality, or
ture hero through his reporting, his fiction, and his stylish
objectivity, of "values" could thrive. But i n 1840 or 1850 or
manner. Hearst offered h i m $3,000 for a month of reporting
1860, American journalism did not yet have clearly articulat-
from Cuba; Davis counted as well on $600 from Harper's
for
ed common ideas and ideals. American journalism had not yet
an article on his travels, and he had promises that his
become an occuptional group or an industry. I t would be both
dispatches would be collected w i t h Remington's drawings and
by the end of the nineteenth century, by which time one can
published i n book form.
identify the emergence and differentiation of professional ideals i n journalism.
Like other reporters i n Cuba, Davis and Remington were barred from the " w a r zone" by Spanish military authorities. News was hard to get. Rumors and minor incidents were generally the best the correspondents had to offer. T h i s so discouraged Remington that he wired Hearst: "Everything is quiet. There is no trouble here. There w i l l be no war. Wish
60
61
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
to r e t u r n . " Hearst is supposed to have responded, "Please remain. Y o u furnish the pictures and I ' l l furnish the w a r . " Despite such encouragement, Remington left Cuba after a week.
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
1880
Banished, She Denies Richard H a r d i n g Davis' Story T h a t M e n Saw H e r Stripped and S e a r c h e d . . . . " T h e headline summarizes the story well. T h e important point was that Clemencia Arango denied being searched by
Davis stayed i n Cuba. O n February 10, 1897, he wired a
Spanish officers. T h i s popped the Journal's
balloon of scandal
story to N e w Y o r k that Hearst splashed over the first and
and outrage. Richard H a r d i n g Davis considered the revela-
second pages on February 12. Davis described how Spanish
tion a reflection on his integrity, and "so he wrote to the World
police boarded an American ship bound for Key West to
to defend himself. O n February 17 the World
search three Cuban women passengers. T h e police claimed
page two a story headlined, " M r . Davis Explains." Davis
that the women were carrying messages to insurgent leaders
argued that not he but Remington was responsible for any
in N e w York. T h e ship's captain protested, but the women
misrepresentations :
were stripped i n a search for the documents. T h e
Journal
paraded the story on page one under the headline: "Does O u r Flag Protect Women? Indignities Practised By Spanish Officials on Board American Vessels. Richard H a r d i n g Davis Describes Some Startling Phases of Cuban Situation. Refined Young W o m e n Stripped and Searched by Brutal Spaniards W h i l e Under O u r Flag on the Olivette." T h e story was accompanied on page two by a half-page drawing by Remington, imagining the scene from N e w York, showing one of the women naked and surrounded by Spanish officers going through her clothing. It was good stuff for Hearst's purpose—building circulation. Nearly a million copies of the paper were sold. But the story was not quite true. T h e drawing, i n particular, was not accurate. T h e leading paper i n N e w Y o r k i n 1897, Joseph Pulitzer's New
featured on
York World, interviewed the Cuban women
when they arrived i n T a m p a and discovered they had been searched by matrons, not by the Spanish officers. T h e World, whose leadership of N e w Y o r k journalism was threatened by the popular antics of Hearst, was delighted. I t ran a frontpage story headlined: " 'Tale of a Fair Exile.' Senorita Arango's O w n Story of the Olivette 'Search Outrage.' A Statement to the W o r l d . She Loved Cuba for Whose Freedom A l l H e r Brothers Are N o w Fighting. Visited T h e m i n Camp;
I never wrote that she was searched by men . . . M r . Frederic Remington, who was not present, and who drew an imaginary picture of the scene, is responsible for the idea that the search was conducted by men. Had I seen the picture before it appeared, I should never have allowed it to accompany my article . . . Davis broke w i t h Hearst over this incident and never again wrote for a Hearst paper. This was an important moment i n journalism, but its importance needs to be carefully defined. O n the surface, it appears that the significance of the incident is that a reporter, proud of his professional standing and faithful to the norms of factual reporting, stood up to the evil influences of a circulation-building editor-publisher. Here, .fidelity to facts is identified w i t h reporters and threats to accuracy, w i t h publishers, their eyes on the cash box. But this is not a fair picture of American journalism i n the 1890s. For one thing, Hearst was the least scrupulous of a l l N e w Y o r k editors at the time, the most determined to build circulation, at any cost (and, indeed, he operated the Journal
at huge losses for its first years).
Other editors, even Pulitzer who vied w i t h Hearst i n the war for readership, were more concerned that their newspapers picture the world fairly. I f editors were not generally indifferent to accuracy i n the news, neither were reporters generally devoted to i t , and that
62
63
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
1880
included Richard H a r d i n g Davis. Davis wrote fiction, as a
better indicate that this was, as one newspaperman remem-
kind of documentary journalism; his journalism was frequent-
bered i t , the "Age of the Reporter."
ly a documentary fiction—the facts would be there, but their
1
As news was more or less "invented" i n the 1830s, the
point was as often to entertain as to inform. Even i n the
reporter was a social invention of the 1880s and 1890s. Early
incident i n question, Davis cannot be absolved from blame for
newspapers
the misrepresentation. H i s report was ambigous, as he ad-
printer, advertising agent, editor, and reporter. "Correspon-
mitted. H e did not say that men searched the women, but he
dents" for eighteenth-century and early nineteenth-century
did not say that women had conducted the search. Given
newspapers were generally travelers or friends of the editor i n
earlier reports i n the Journal
foreign ports who wrote letters back to their hometown
and other N e w York papers
had been one-man bands: one man acted as
regarding Spanish mistreatment of Cuban women, it was
newspapers. I n the course of the nineteenth century, editors
possible, even likely, that any artist or headline writer would
came to rely less on these informal sources of news and more
have made the interpretation the Journal
made. T r u e , Davis
on free-lance writers and hired reporters who wrote for pay.
did feel an obligation to get the facts right and a willingness,
The penny papers were the first to employ reporters for local
at least i n theory, to leave editorial judgment to the editors.
news. James Gordon Bennett pioneered once again i n making
H e wrote i n Kis report from Cuba on January 3 1 , " I was
the "foreign correspondent" a paid staff member.
taught i n the days of 'old journalism' that reporters were
I n the 1840s and 1850s, American journalism continued i n
meant to describe things they saw, and not to write editorials
the direction set by the penny papers. Political independence
but to leave the drawing of conclusions to others. . . . " But i n
of newspapers, for instance, became a common feature of
the story on the Olivette search, Davis clearly expressed his
journalism. I n 1847, the new Boston Herald,
a penny paper,
shock at the actions of the Spanish authorities and suggested
had its morning edition edited by George Tyler, a W h i g , and
that American intervention i n Cuba would be justified. I f
its afternoon edition managed by W i l l i a m Eaton, a Democrat.
Remington's drawing got the details of Davis' story wrong, it . nonetheless caught the tone Davis expressed.
The arrangement did not last, but it is notable that the paper's proprietors could have supposed, as the
Herald's
The incident, then, does not locate a devotion to facts i n a
historian wrote i n 1878, that "a double-jointed paper like this
particular echelon of the newspaper staff. I t does not picture a
ought to suit everybody." W h e n Lincoln broke from the
typical editor. I t does not feature a typical reporter. Nonethe-
policy of maintaining a semiofficial organ among the Wash-
2
less, it reveals one of the most important aspects of journalism
ington newspapers, the traditional link between paper and
in the 1890s: reporters were, for the first time, actors i n the
party, at least on the national level, was conclusively broken.
3
drama of the newspaper world. Davis felt himself indepen-
I f N e w York was the hub of journalistic enterprise i n the
dent of his employer, knew himself to have an authority w i t h
1830s, it was no less so by the time of the Civil W a r . By 1860,
the reading public more valuable, than his salary, and could
the Tribune
w i t h equanimity stand against his editor. O f course, Davis'
Washington. I n newspapers around the country the designa-
and the Herald
both had daily home delivery i n
fame was unusual, and i t is perhaps unique i n the history of
tion " F r o m the H E R A L D " or " F r o m the T R I B U N E " told
journalism that an editor and a reporter should play out their
all: everyone knew the reference was to the N e w Y o r k papers.
feud i n the pages of a rival newspaper, but nothing could
The Tribune,
64
the Herald,
and the Times,
a penny paper
65
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
begun i n 1851 by H e n r y J . Raymond, formerly managing editor at the Tribune,
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
1880
the sheer size of the news-gathering efforts of the leading
had grown from four pages to eight.
papers. I n the first years of the war, N e w York papers spent
T h e i r competition for news continued, and they frequently
from $60,000 to $100,000 a year reporting the war, while
emphasized the news-gathering process itself i n headlines.
papers i n Boston, Philadelphia, and chief cities i n the West
The lead stories i n one typical issue of the Herald,
spent between $10,000 and $30,000. I n N e w York, only the
for
instance, were headlined "News by Telegraph" and " A r r i v a l
Herald
kept up its investment i n news gathering throughout
of the Asia"; the former article included news from Washing-
the conflict, although the Times and the Tribune
ton, Albany, Buffalo, and elsewhere, while the latter included
extensive reporting services, too. T h e number of reporters
4
maintained
all the overseas news brought by the most recent steamer. A
grew enormously; the Herald
New York Times story which featured the texts of speeches by
dents covering the war at any one time. Newspaper circula-
Victor Emmanuel and Count Cavour of Italy began: " T h e
tion, rose; extras appeared more often; newspapers printed
steamship Fulton, already
whose arrival off Cape Cod has
announced,
evening."
reached
her
dock at
been
this port last
6
I n the New
had more than forty correspon-
more pages;, and Bennett's Sunday Herald, published by the Times and the Tribune.
York Herald
of the 1850s, one still can find
published since
the 1830s, f o u n d competition i n the new Sunday papers war began, the Tribune
Just days before the
became the first paper to introduce
several columns of advertising on page one—not every day,
"stereotyping," a process i n which the paper is printed from
but not infrequently—and there sometimes was a serialized
curved stereotype plates cast from a mold taken from the
romance on the front page. Occasionally, there were "hoax-
original plates of type. T h i s was a major step forward i n
e s
» _ s t o r i e s of pure fiction presented as news—as there had
been i n the 1830s. Still, part of the delight of the hoax was its
printing technology; w i t h i n four months the Herald
and then
the Times adopted stereotyping. T h e familiar pattern of the
revelation as a literary invention. " M a k i n g news"—promot-
1830s and 1840s was repeated: the penny papers set the pace
ing or producing events one could then legitimately claim to
of American journalism.
report as news—was still unheard of. T h e most common and modest form of making news—interviewing a public
figure-
was a practice which did not make even its first tentative
8
Journalism i n the Civil W a r , then, was not so much different as bigger, more prominent, and, as people anxiously followed campaigns that involved their husbands and brothers
6
appearance i n journalism u n t i l the 1860s. W h i l e the pursuit
and sons, more important to ordinary people. T h e war
of news had grown more vigorous by the C i v i l W a r , the idea
pushed the newspaper closer to the center of the national
of news had not changed significantly since the first days of
consciousness. Frederic Hudson, i n his 1872 history of jour-
the penny press.
nalism, paid tribute to the newspapers' coverage of the C i v i l
As for the C i v i l W a r itself, it is often taken to be a turning
W a r and the European wars of the next few years:
7
point i n the history of the American press. I t was not. I t did not " t u r n " the direction of journalism; its impact was to intensify the direction i n which journalism had been turning since the 1830s. As before, the leaders i n this were the N e w York papers and, most of a l l , the Herald.
66
Most striking was
No record of previous wars can surpass those of the years between 1861 and '71. Anterior to these events we spoke of Napier, Thiers, Gibbon, Bancroft. They were compilers from old documents. Now we speak of the T R I B U N E , T I M E S , W O R L D , H E R A L D . They have been eye-witnesses. 3
67
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
1880
Indeed they were. But Hudson's language is good indica-
Stereotypes of the old-time reporter and the new reporter
tion that, despite the courage of some Civil W a r reporters and
quickly developed and pervade memoirs of editors and report-
the color of w a r correspondence, despite the temporary intro-
ers, just as they do the pages of The Journalist.
duction of by-lines i n 1863 (stipulated by General Joseph
reporter," according to the standard mythology, was a hack
T h e "old
Hooker as a means of attributing responsibility and blame for
who wrote for his paycheck and no more. H e was uneducated
the publication of material he found inaccurate or dangerous
and proud of his ignorance; he was regularly drunk and
to the A r m y of the Potomac), and despite the great numbers of
proud of his alcoholism. Journalism, to h i m , was just a job.
correspondents, the age of the reporter had not yet arrived. I n
T h e "new reporter" was younger, more nai've, more energetic
the Spanish-American W a r , the names of Sylvester Scovel
and ambitious, college-educated, and usually sober. H e was
and Richard H a r d i n g Davis were as familiar as the names of
passionately attached to his job and to the novels he felt his
the papers for which they wrote. T h i s was not the case for
experience as a reporter would prepare h i m to write. D a v i d Graham Phillips exemplified the new spirit i n saying, " I
correspondents i n the C i v i l W a r . I t was only i n the decades after the Civil W a r that reporting became a more highly esteemed and more highly
would rather be a reporter than President.
12
The reporter's rising status was marked and promoted by
rewarded occupation. T h e growing marketability of a college
steadily rising income i n the 1880s and 1890s.
degree i n journalism was an indicator of the reporter's new
time, reporting was becoming a more steady sort of employ-
status. Horace Greeley, i n the 1860s, would not hire a college
ment. The Journalist
graduate who did not show he could overcome the "handicap"
up the habit of relying on free-lance reporters who were paid
of a college education. B u t times were already changing when
"on space"—according to the number of column-inches their
Julius Chambers sought a job on the Tribune
stories occupied i n the paper." By 1898 The Journalist
around 1870.
18
A t the same
repeatedly urged that newspapers give
noted
from
that not only did each of the large N e w Y o r k newspapers
Cornell. Greeley replied, " I ' d a damned sight rather you had
have at least ten college graduates on their staffs, but that the
Chambers told Greeley that he had just graduated graduated at a printer's case!" But Chambers got his
Tribune
job anyway by talking to managing editor W h i t e l a w Reid, who
hired h i m when he discovered that they were both
members of the same college fraternity.
10
Charles
Dana
reporter working "on space," rather than on salary, was practically extinct.
16
Reporters i n the 1880s and 1890s received popular acclaim. The popular appeal of N e l l y B l y going around the w o r l d i n
favored college graduates on the New York Sun i n the 1880s,
eighty days, H e n r y M o r t o n Stanley
and Lincoln Steffens, i n his brief stint as editor of the
Africa, or the war correspondence of Richard H a r d i n g Davis
Commercial
added greatly to the esprit that attracted young men and more
Advertiser
at the t u r n of the century, hired
college graduates almost exclusively. The Journalist,
finding
Livingston i n
a trade
and more young women to the w o r l d of journalism and kept
publication for journalism begun i n 1883, declared i n an
them there happily. Reporters were as eager to mythologize
editorial i n 1900, "Today the college bred men are the rule."
their w o r k as the public was to read of their adventures. T h e
W i t h more gentlemen and fewer Bohemians i n the profession,
Whitechapel Club i n Chicago, founded i n 1889 and named
The Journalist
after the London site of some of the crimes of Jack the
observed, newspaper w r i t i n g improved, and
the ethics and status of newspapermen rose."
68
Ripper, was a gathering place for reporters. T h e club was
69
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
decorated w i t h mementos of crime—murder weapons, human skulls, and a coffin-shaped table; the reporters glamorized their familiarity w i t h the rawness of city life while also creating the atmosphere of a college fraternity. But the Club had an important practical function, too, for reporters c r i t i cized one another's w o r k there. Reporters became as sensitive to the reception of their stories at the Club as to the judgments of their city editors. I n N e w York, the nightly gatherings of the newspaper fraternity for d r i n k and talk at " D o c " Perry's Park Row pharmacy provided a similar forum for mutual criticism and collegiality.
16
Formally organized press clubs
had begun w i t h the New Y o r k Press Club i n 1873. I n the 1880s, clubs were organized i n Chicago, Minneapolis, M i l waukee, Boston, St. Paul, and San Francisco. I n Washington, a socially exclusive Washington Correspondents' Club was organized i n 1867, but most journalists shared a social and professional life simply because, i n the late 1860s and 1870s, they almost all took offices i n "Newspaper R o w " on Fourteenth Street, between Pennsylvania and F Streets. Another
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
1880
and public taste i n entertainment. T h a t meant, on the one hand, that newspapers had to be lively, colorful, and entertaining, í t meant, on the other hand, that they had to be factual. Reporters believed strongly that it was their job both to get the facts and to be colorful. I n their allegiance to facts, reporters of the late nineteenth century breathed the same air that conditioned the rise of the expert i n politics, the development of scientific management i n industry, the t r i u m p h of realism i n literature, and the "revolt against formalism" i n 20
philosophy, the social sciences, history, and l a w . But i n their desire to tell stories, reporters were less interested i n facts than i n creating personally distinctive and popular styles of w r i t i n g . T h i s seems—and sometimes seemed to the reporters—tó r u n counter to the zeal for facts. But they experienced the contradiction-as conflict w i t h their editors, not as ideological disharmony. I t would be a mistake to read contemporary views of objectivity into the fact-mindedness
of the 1890s.
Objectivity is an ideology of the distrust of the self, something Richard H a r d i n g Davis and his colleagues did not feel. T h e Progressives' belief i n facts was different from a modern
exclusive club—the G r i d i r o n Club—was established i n 1885;
conviction of objectivity; just what it was we shall now
the National Capital Press Club began i n 1891 but folded
examine.
w i t h i n a few years on the bad credit of its members. T h e National Press Club we know today dates from 1908." Whether the collegiality of journalism was formally organized or not, reporting i n the 1880s and 1890s became a selfconscious and increasingly esteemed occupation i n American
Science a n d L i t e r a r y R e a l i s m
cities. By 1890 E . L . Godkin could confidently write that news gathering had become "a new and important calling."
1 8
There were even guides for aspiring young men and women on how to become a reporter;
19
reporting was less strictly a
job one drifted into, more and more a career one chose. Reporters came to share a common w o r l d of work; they also shared common ideas about how to conduct their work. Competing w i t h one another for circulation, newspapers tried to satisfy public standards of t r u t h , public ideals of decency,
70
Reporters i n the 1890s saw themselves, i n part, as scientists uncovering the economic and political facts of industrial life more boldly, more clearly, and more "realistically" than anyone had done before. T h i s was part of the
broader
Progressive drive to found political reform on "facts." A t the turn of the century, state and federal labor bureaus began to gather better information on economic and social issues, as did
71
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
1880
private agencies like the Charity Organization Society of New
in an essay on realism i n The Arena i n 1893: " T h e w o r l d has
York i n its tenement house investigation of 1900. I n the first
grown tired of preachers and sermons; to-day it asks for facts.
decade of the twentieth century, systematic social investigation
It has grown tired of fairies and angels, and asks for flesh and
practically became a craze; i t was a favorite project of the new
blood."
24
The dean of American letters i n the 1880s and
Russell Sage Foundation, which sponsored social surveys in
1890s, W i l l i a m Dean Howells, argued that a philosophy of
Pittsburgh, St. Paul, Scranton, Topeka, Ithaca, Atlanta, and
art should be based on the laws of natural science; his own
Springfield, Illinois. There was a "public demand for facts,"
work, according to Everett Carter, was "dominated by the
writes historian Robert Bremner, intentionally echoing the
positivistic concern w i t h the objective observation, analysis,
recollections of reporter and writer Ray Stannard
and classification of human life."
Baker:
"Facts, facts piled up to the point of d r y certitude, was what the American people really w a n t e d . "
2 6
Reporters who turned to
fiction followed h i m i n this. Most of the turn-of-the-century
21
writers whose novels we still read, wrote i n a self-consciously
M a n y of the journalists of the 1890s and after were either
realistic vein growing out of their experience as newspaper
trained i n a scientific discipline or shared i n the popular
repprters—Theodore Dreiser, Jack London, Stephen Crane,
admiration for science. Ray Stannard Baker took special
Frank Norris, and W i l l a Cather, for instance. Other writers
interest i n his science courses at M i c h i g a n Agricultural Col-
of fiction, enormously popular at the time, began as newspa-
lege; Lincoln Steffens did graduate work i n W i l h e l m Wundt's
permen—Richard H a r d i n g Davis, Lafcadio Hearn, David
worid-famous psychological laboratory. T h e appeal of H e r -
Graham Phillips, Ray Stannard Baker, Joel Chandler H a r -
bert Spencer was strong among reporters, as it was among
ris, H a r o l d Frederic, Ambrose Bierce, and George Ade. Ade,
other educated Americans. Baker studied and imbibed Spen-
a Chicago reporter, wrote, i n both his journalism and his
cer's views on economy i n literary style under Fred Newton
fiction, a blend of sentiment and realistic detail which he
Scott at M i c h i g a n Agricultural College; Theodore Dreiser
generally subordinated to humor and to what Larzer Z i f f
read Spencer, as well as D a r w i n , T y n d a l l , and H u x l e y . Jack
terms "false g e n i a l i t y . "
London, who, like Dreiser, began his literary career as a
ideology of his times and spoke for many others when he
reporter, was influenced by Spencer. Abraham Cahan, a
wrote that his ambition was to be k n o w n as a "realist" and a
reporter who founded the Jewish Daily Forward
man w i t h "the courage to observe human virtues and frailties
in New York
in 1897 and served as its editor for half a century, read Spencer avidly, especially his writings on art.
26
Still, Ade shared i n the literary
as they showed on the lens."
2 7
22
The w o r d "observe" was all-important to the reporters and Whether reporters thought of themselves as scientists or as artists, they believed always that they should be realistic. T h e i r ideal of literature, as of reporting, stressed factuality. Abraham Cahan championed realism i n art i n an essay printed i n 1889; he argued that "the power of realistic art arises from the pleasure we derive from recognizing the t r u t h as it is mirrored by a r t . "
28
Clarence D a r r o w , himself the
author of one novel, expressed the dominant view of the time
72
realistic novelists of the 1890s; George Becker aptly notes that romantics praised a writer's powers of invention, while realists praised powers of observation.
28
A n d Ade's word "lens,"
too, is well-chosen: i t conveys the realists' sense that the newspaper story, the magazine article, and the novel could be, and should be, photographically true to life. W h a t is important, however, is not that realists believed art to have a mimetic function—there was nothing new i n that, and the
73
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
term "realism," i n the 1890s, was more a boast and an advertisement than a descriptive label. W h a t is important is that realists identified "reality" w i t h external
phenomena
which, they believed, were subject to laws of physical causality as natural science revealed them and as social science might reveal them. T h i s was new. T h e w o r l d was disenchanted as never before, and the realists, embracing disenchantment to distinguish themselves from their literary fathers, were delighted.
29
W h y this realism developed as and when i t did is not easy to say. W i l l i a m Dean Howells wrote that nothing caused realism: i t just "came" and i t seemed "to have come everywhere at once."
8 0
W e can at least say a few things about what
did not cause i t . Autonomous developments i n the arts did not cause i t . Frank N o r r i s followed the growth of a theory of realism in France, but most American realists were without knowledge of French intellectual life and came to their realism on their o w n .
81
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
1880
be a subtle and mysterious faculty of mind into an institution of democratic political life. T h i s notion of science as only that body of knowledge constructed by the public and available to public view was especially congenial to a democratic market society. T h e idea of science as a process of data collecting open to a l l expressed a democratic epistemology and helped make the collecting and classifying activities of botany, zoology, and geology the models of natural science i n Jacksonian America. By the late nineteenth century, under the influence of D a r w i n and Spencer, the meaning of science to the popular mind shifted. Evolutionary theory had become the model of science; it emphasized not just the collection, but the historical connections, of facts. Still more important, it included human beings as objects about which facts could be gathered and studied. The* human mind externalized or objectified the human body, and, as psychologists and other social scientists worked out the implications of D a r w i n i a n theory, human beings objectified themselves.
N o r did "the pervasive materialism of
industrial capitalism," contrary to Alfred Kazin, cause i t .
82
Writers i n ante-bellum America also responded to what they experienced as "pervasive materialism," but they did so i n a style called "romantic." N o r was realism simply the inevitable consequence of the growing popularity of science. "Science" had long been a
T h i s changing concept of what science is, rather than simply the growing popularity of science, contributed to the rise of realism. But this begs a question: while science surely has some internal logic, i t is also clearly shaped by social circumstances. W h a t social circumstances promoted a factgathering and fact-connecting science which took human society as its subject?
magical w o r d i n America. For instance, lawyers on both sides of the codification controversy i n the 1830s defended themselves i n terms of a "science of the l a w . "
88
There
was,
however, an important difference between the conservative tradition of "science" as the personal acquirement of learnedness and the idea of science invoked by middle-class reformers favoring codification of the law. T h e codifiers took science to be a body of knowledge necessarily clear, written, and public; in the law this meant that they favored legal rules legislatively enacted rather than judicially interpreted. They
externalized
the idea of science, making what conservative thinkers took to
74
M y inclination is to argue that this idea of a science of human society would not have gained support without the advance of a market economy, the ideal and institutions of political democracy, and the emergence of an urban habitat. Such is the general theme of this study. But can i t be stretched to cover the phenomenon I am now describing? T h e problem is not a simple one. A n y explanation of the idea of science i n the late nineteenth century as an expression of the culture of a democratic market society must handle the following puzzle. I n the early nineteenth century, science was the darling of
75
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
JOURNALISM AS A V O C A T I O N AFTER
1880
democrats, the open book of progress which anyone could
I n journalism from the 1830s on, there was a growing
write i n and anyone could read. Empirical inquiry was a
emphasis on getting the facts. Still, i n journalism, as i n other
weapon of the middle class against the received wisdom of an
fields, the idea of an empirical i n q u i r y concerning human
established order. By the end of the nineteenth century,
society did not t r i u m p h a l l at once. I t is important to ask, i n
however, science was becoming an established institution i n
the case of journalism, not only w h y the journalists' belief i n
its o w n right, connected to the universities and professional
facts was so strong by the end of the nineteenth , century, but
associations and standing against popular democracy both i n
w h y it was no stronger.
principle ("reason" and expert judgment versus the mob) and in actual class antagonism (the educated middle class against immigrants and workers). Science, at one time consonant w i t h the culture of a democratic market society, seems, i n retro-
O c c u p a t i o n a l I d e a l s of Journalists
spect, to have opposed i t as the society matured. /
W h i l e I feel tentative about this statement and uncertain
/ about its implications, I believe that this general sociological ;'
approach to understanding the idea of science is sound. T h e history of science is not an autonomous intellectual history. I t
{
is, instead, a history of the interaction of a way of seeing the
\
w o r l d , a set of ideas and institutions which promote the way I of seeing, and the social conditions conducive or constraining i to the way of seeing. I n many areas of American life i n the / nineteenth century, people were ready to accept empirical
/ /
sciences before science as an institution, or a set of workable
instance, Charles
Rosenberg
shows, i n his study of the
American response to the cholera epidemics of 1832, 1849,
/
I
and 1866, that by 1866 Americans, including religious lead-
/
ers, were much more likely than they had been to t h i n k of though the identification of the cholera vibrio was nearly two
/
decades i n the future. But by 1866 there was an "unashamed empiricism, not only i n medical writings, but i n sermons and editorials as w e l l . " vision,
\
who served as managing editor of the New York Herald
and
the New York World, remembered his own apprenticeship i n the 1870s under the New York Tribune's
W . F . G. Shanks.
Shanks forced Chambers to acquire "a form of composition very difficult to overcome i n after years—a style accurately described by John H a y , then a paragraph writer on the Tribune,
as 'The Grocer's B i l l . ' " T h a t meant,
Chambers
recalled: Facts; facts; nothing but facts. So many peas at so much a peck; so much molasses at so much a quart. The index of forbidden words was very lengthy, and misuse of them, when they escaped the keen eye of a copyreader and got into print, was punishable by suspension without pay for a week, or immediate discharge. It was a rigid system, rigidly enforced. 36
cholera as a medical, rather than a moral, problem, even
j |
grudging fondness, their first city editors. Julius Chambers,
ideas, appeared. Religion and religious explanations were not destroyed by science; they were i n decline already. For
/
Reporters of the 1890s who later wrote memoirs recall, w i t h
and
comfortably.
76
84
A democratic age wanted a democratic
empirical 36
inquiry,
not
religion,
fit
most
Lincoln Steffens made a similar complaint about the training he received on E. L . Godkin's Evening Post: Reporters were to report the news as it happened, like machines, without prejudice, color, and without style; all alike. Humor or any sign of personality in our reports was caught, rebuked, and, in time, suppressed. As a writer, I was permanently hurt by my years on the Post.' 1
77
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
Joseph Appel, later to be John Wanamaker's
advertising
1880
color"—the good reporter should be alert to both. E d w i n L .
manager and a pioneer i n "journalizing" advertising copy, got
Shuman, i n his handbook for aspiring journalists, Steps into
his first job w i t h Colonel M c C l u r e ' s Philadelphia
Journalism
Times i n
the 1890s. As he recalled, his first meeting w i t h M c C l u r e was
(1894), wrote that a reporter w i t h sparkle would
be forgiven inaccuracy, just as a reliable reporter would be
M c C l u r e waved a newspaper column at
forgiven "a moderate degree of dullness" i n style, but that the
Appel and asked, "Young man, young man, did you write
combination of "reliability and sparkle" was the recipe for
this?" Appel replied that he had. M c C l u r e then said: " W e l l , I
professional success. T h i s was the spirit of the times and i t is
want you to know and I don't want you ever to forget i t , that
remarkable how far even texts for journalists would go i n
not auspicious.
when the Times expresses an editorial opinion I w i l l express it and not you—go back to your w o r k . "
41
promoting color, as well as facts. Shuman
advocated
the
reporter's using his imagination to create images he had not
88
Young reporters were impressionable, and these sorts of
witnessed and had no direct testimony about. T h i s is, he
Dreiser
wrote, "perhaps excusable as long as the imaginative w r i t i n g
remembered M a x w e l l of the Chicago Globe, his editor when
is confined to non-essentials and is done by one who has i n
encounters must have influenced them. Theodore
he first entered journalism i n 1892. M a x w e l l told h i m that
him
the first paragraph of a news story had to inform the reader of
cautioned that even this m i l d form of fakery is dangerous, but
"who,
he acknowledged that it was practiced by all newspapers.
what, how, when, and where." M a x w e l l noted, for
emphasis, that there was a sign i n the office of the Chicago Tribune
which
read,
" W H O OR WHAT?
HOW?
WHEN?
W H E R E ? " W h e n Dreiser would bring i n a story, M a x w e l l would go at it w i t h a blue pencil, advising as he went: "News is information. People want it quick, sharp, clear—do you hear?"
89
Dreiser was not surprised, then, when he moved to New Y o r k and walked into the city room of the New York
40
(~"
T h e World's
exhortation to accuracy took it for granted
,that there was no contradiction between "the facts" and "the 1
'78
at least the desire to represent the t r u t h . " Shuman
Indeed, he went further: In spite of the fact that editors come to grief once in a while by its use, this trick of drawing upon the imagination for the non-essential parts of an article is certainly one of the most valuable secrets of the profession at its present stage of development. Truth in essentials, imagination in non-essentials, is considered a legitimate rule of action in every office. The paramount object is to make an interesting story. 42
World:
I looked about the great room, as I waited patiently and delightedly, and saw pasted on the walls at intervals printed cards which read: Accuracy, Accuracy, Accuracy! Who? What? Where? When? How? The Facts—The Color—The Facts! I knew what those signs meant: the proper order for beginning a newspaper story. Another sign insisted upon Promptness, Courtesy, Geniality! Most excellent traits, I thought, but not as easy to put into execution as comfortable I publishers and managing editors might suppose.
N
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
I f facts could not be championed
to the exclusion of
imaginative embellishment, neither could they be supported wholeheartedly to the exclusion of opinion. Here, of course, as is evident i n the advice of editors to their young reporters, there was i n principle a more rigid distinction: news and opinion should be kept apart. But even this distinction was not absolute. Shuman advised his readers: Opinions are the peculiar province of the editorial writer. The spirit of modern journalism demands that the news and the editorials be kept distinctly separate. The one deals with facts, the other with
79
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
1880
theoretical interpretations, and it is as harmful to mix the two in journalism as it is to combine church and state in government. This, at least, is the only safe theory for the beginner.™
preoccupation w i t h facts and possessed a desire to let events
The last line is significant. I t suggests that the separation of
arid documents speak for themselves."
literature.
46
W h i l e McClure's
was designed to entertain, to be
interesting, the editor and his staff "evinced an 47
unusual
M c C l u r e welcomed
facts from opinion was more a principle of tutelage than an
comparison of the magazine story to the news article of daily
absolute ideal i n journalism. Indeed, as Shuman would point
journalism: " I wish to go over the Pittsburgh article very
out i n a later edition of his book, i t was customary for Washington and foreign correspondents
to blend fact and
4 4
opinion at w i l l . T h i s , too, is a theme i n the memoirs of reporters: that the rules one learned as a beginner one had to unlearn to stand out as a journalist. H . L . Mencken, as a young reporter i n Baltimore i n the 1890s, found himself confronted, like D r e i -
carefully before i t is published," he wrote to David Graham • Phillips regarding an essay by Steffens. " I think that the article to begin w i t h should be free from bias, just the same as a news article or newspaper... . "
48
Facts and more facts: " I f
T u r n e r has any defect i n w r i t i n g i t is a defect that almost all writers lean towards," M c C l u r e wrote W i l l a Cather, "that is a certain distaste towards documentation."
49
ser i n N e w Y o r k at the same time, w i t h the demands of
These accounts suggest that reporters may have developed
editors for accuracy. H e recalled later that there was " i m -
their" attachment to facts despite themselves, forced into i t by
mense stress upon accuracy" at the Baltimore Sun. T h e Sun
the organizational pressures of daily journalism. Young re-
"fostered a sober, matter-of-fact style i n its men." T h e
porters came to the big-city dailies to make their reputations,
Herald, where Mencken began i n 1899, was looser. Mencken
to launch their literary careers. They had every reason to
preferred it to the Sun where, he felt, reporters "were hobbled
want to be colorful and enterprising, every reason to resent
" The
the dull discipline their editors tried to impose. T h e city
best Sun reporters overcame their paper's policies, "but the
editors, for their part, had to look in two directions: toward
by their paper's craze for mathematical accuracy
rank and file tended to w r i t e like bookkeepers." M u c h as Mencken tries i n his recollections to distinguish his own early newspaper experience from that of the rival Sun, this must be weighed against his account of the advice the Herald's
manag-
ing editor gave h i m i n his first days as a staff member: never trust a copy; verify reports whenever possible; t r y to get copy in early; be careful about dates, names, ages, addresses, and figures; keep i n m i n d the dangers of libel; and do not be discouraged by the Sun's monopoly on news.
46
W h a t was true on newspapers was true for magazines as well. McClure's,
founded i n 1894 by Sam M c C l u r e , was the
grooming reporters to get the news and write i t w i t h accuracy and verve; and toward satisfying the editor-publisher, which meant, at a m i n i m u m , keeping the paper free of the easily identifiable errors and excesses that would lead to libel, embarrassment, or public criticism for the newspaper. T h e city editor might well seek color i n a news story, but he was likely to require factuality first of all. Besides, i f he could hold reporters i n conformity w i t h rules and procedures he i m posed,, he could break them of some of their arrogance, make his o w n w o r k easier, and make his o w n mark on the newspaper.
first of the new mass-circulation magazines which, as one
The conflict between editors and reporters is evident again
contemporary regretfully observed, "journalized" magazine
in the recollections of Jacob Riis, a police reporter for the
80
81
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
1880
i n the 1880s, who culled from his experi-
of reporting as he practiced it. H e took pride i n reporting
ence one of the important reform documents of the era, How
what he called the "great human drama." T h e reporter
New York Tribune
(1890). I n his autobiography, Riis tried
behind the scenes, he wrote, "sees the tumult of passions, and
to explain how he took up photography as a tool for report-
not rarely a human heroism that redeems all the rest. I t is his
ing. H e confessed that he was not a good photographer,
task so to portray i t that we can all see its meaning, or at all
the Other Half Lives
though he wanted to be. W h a t kept h i m from his goal?
events catch the human drift of it, not merely the foulness and
According to Riis, i t was his delight i n the miracle, rather
the reek of blood." H e continued:
than i n the technique, of photography: I do not want my butterfly stuck on a pin and put in a glass case. I want to see the sunlight on its wings as it flits from flower to flower, and I don't care a rap what its Latin name may be. Anyway, it is not its name. The sun and the flower and the butterfly know that. The man who sticks a pin in it does not, and never will, for he knows not its language. Only the poet does among men. So, you see, I am disqualified from being a photographer. 60
I n his search for poetry, Riis felt the eyes of science derisively upon h i m . T h i s is even more clear i n his comments on his w r i t i n g style. H e complains that his editors told h i m his style was "altogether editorial and presuming, and not to be borne." They told h i m to give facts, not comments, to which he responded:
If he can do that, he has performed a signal service, and his murder story may easily come to speak more eloquently to the minds of thousands than the sermon preached to a hundred in the church on Sunday. 52
I n this passage, Riis distinguishes his teaching from the minister's, but the very idea of comparing his work to the preacher's and the religious language he uses ("a human heroism that redeems . . . " ) contrasts sharply w i t h reporters' usual borrowings from the language of science. Not surprisingly, other reporters were sometimes critical of Riis. Steffens criticized h i m for refusing to believe, or even to hear, some of the awful things going on i n the world. Riis did not have the "scientific" interest i n reporting Steffens boasted of himself; he cared, i n Steffens' words, only for "the stories of people
By that I suppose they meant that I must write, not what I thought, but what they probably might think of the news. But, good or bad, I could write in no other way, and kept right on. Not that I think, by any manner of means, that it was the best way, but it was mine. And goodness knows I had no desire to be an editor. I have not now. I prefer to be a reporter and deal with the facts to being an editor and lying about them. 51
There may be some contradiction here i n Riis' defending his mixture of facts and comments by appealing to his
and the conditions i n which they lived."
68
Steffens recalled
how Riis reacted when his assistant, M a x Fischel, told h i m of a police raid on a party of homosexuals: "Fairies!" Riis shouted, suspicious. "What are fairies?" And when Max began to define the word Riis rose up in a rage. "Not so," he cried. "There are no such creatures in this world." He threw down his pencil and rushed out of the office. He would not report that raid, and Max had to telephone enough to his paper to protect his chief. 64
insistence on "dealing w i t h facts"; it is interesting that his explanation of his o w n style is so defensive. H e relies most of
Steffens derided Riis' moralism, but he admired the person-
all on claiming his style as a fault of his o w n nature which he
al style Riis cultivated. H e must have, for that is exactly what
cannot change. Still, there are other passages i n the autobiog-
he sought i n his reporters when, i n 1897, he became an editor
raphy where he offers a more positive account of the business
himself, of the Commercial
82
Advertiser.
H e recalled i n his
83
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
1880
autobiography that he was inspired as an editor by little
played out between editor and reporter as between father and
besides a love of N e w York. H e inherited the politics of the
son: the son dares to express himself and the father punishes;
paper from his apprenticeship on the Evening
the son conforms to the father's demands and the father comes
self-conscious
Post; he was
about literary ideals, not politics. H e
was
to trust h i m ; the son rebels to express himself again, w i t h
determined to avoid the old "professional newspapermen" i n
more maturity this time, and triumphs over the father; the
creating a staff:
father grows old or dies, becomes a memory, and the son
I wanted fresh, young, enthusiastic writers who would see and make others see the life of the eity. This meant individual styles, and old newspaper men wrote in the style of their paper, the Sun men in the Sun style, Post men in the Godkin manner. 56
forgives, acknowledging that he had, after a l l , taken his father's admonitions to heart. Steffens, Chambers, Mencken, Dreiser, Appel, and Riis all recalled the directives of their first editors for factual, impersonal reporting. Most of them remembered this emphasis on
So Steffens hired young graduates of H a r v a r d , Yale, Prince-
facts w i t h some resentment, even though they claimed, after
ton, and Columbia, men of literary ambition more hopeful of
their own fashion, to be scrupulously faithful to reality. A t the
being writers than reporters. Steffens remembered himself as
same time, they were happy to have incorporated into their
ruthlessly stressing^ freshness and individuality i n his report-
own outlooks some of their editors' world-weary cynicism.
ers. As soon as two staff members wrote alike, he would fire
They wanted their reports of the w o r l d to be lively, they
one of them.
wanted to speak i n personal tones to a w o r l d growing
W h i l e there are differences among all these recollections,
impersonal about them, but they believed they could do that
there are strong similarities, too, almost more than seems
without interpretation, w i t h complete mirrorlike accuracy.
reasonable. T h i s may indicate that the occupational w o r l d of
They had only contempt for the critical, and generally moral-
the big-city newspaper reporters was, indeed, a common one;
istic, efforts of editorial writers. I n part, this was a contempt
it may also suggest, however, that the common experience was
for the person who does not dirty his hands. T h e ideal of the
that of recalling and dramatizing one's past. N o t all autobiog-
Chicago journalist i n the 1890s, as H u g h Dalziel Duncan
raphy is as hearty and uncritical as the reminiscences of
puts it, was to dramatize the news, not as an impartial
journalists; theirs seem to continue i n the relatively unreflec-
observer, but as "a participant who spits on his hands, rolls
tive, uncomplicated, and untragic sense of life they expressed
up his sleeves, and jumps into the fight."
as reporters. A n d their autobiographies, like their newspaper
of-the-century reporters were unattuned to the ways i n which
articles, seem to aim for an entertaining, lively tone without
their own values shaped their perception of "the facts," they
sacrificing a necessary factuality. T h e resulting contributions
were eager to accept the position that wishes should submit to
to the collective self-portrait of journalism standardize
a
facts, soft dreams to hard realities, moralism to practical
mythic pattern. T h e myth centers on the struggle between a
politics, and religion to common sense. Dreiser was probably
young eager reporter and a wizened, cynical editor. T h e
typical i n being attracted to reporting by what he called its
reporter, a deracinated stranger i n the big city, who has
"pagan or unmoral character," which he contrasted to the
65
Thus, while t u r n -
chosen not to follow i n his father's footsteps, creates a father
"religionistic and moralistic point of view" of the editorial
of the man whose footsteps he does follow. T h e n the myth is
offices:
84
85
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
While the editorial office might be preparing the most flowery moralistic or religionistic editorials regarding the worth of man, the value of progress, character, religion, morality, the sanctity of the home, charity and the like, the business office and news rooms were concerned with no such fine theories. The business office was all business, with little or no thought of anything save success, and in the city news room the mask was off and life was handled in a rough-and-ready manner, without gloves and in a catch-as-catchcan fashion. Pretense did not go here. Innate honesty on the part of any one was not probable. Charity was a business with something in it for somebody. Morality was in the main for public consumption only. "Get the news! Get the news!"—that was the great cry in the city editorial room. "Don't worry much over how you get it, but get it, and don't come back without it! Don't fall down! Don't let the other newspapers skin us—that is, if you value your job! And write—and write well. I f any other paper writes it better than you do you're beaten and might as well resign." The public must be entertained by the writing of reporters. 67
Reporters were united i n opposing moralism, sham, and hypocrisy. T h e y thought little of clergymen, political orators, reform efforts to close saloons and brothels, and editorial writers.
68
T h e city editors, w i t h w h o m they were i n constant
contention, they felt k i n to. Dreiser wrote admiringly that city editors were nearly a l l distrustful of conventional principles and "misdoubted the motives, professed or secret, of nearly every m a n . "
69
Reporters felt a close emotional bond to their
hard-driving editors and, as well, to the tough and gritty men—both police and criminals—they got to know on the police detail. They felt close, too, as Lincoln Steffens made clear i n his autobiography, to the cynical and shrewd businessmen and politicians they interviewed and exposed. They
JOURNALISM AS A VOCATION AFTER
1880
the same. Richard H a r d i n g Davis was angry when the veracity of his report on the Olivette search was questioned i n a World
editorial. H i s letter to the World
stressed the
accuracy of his o w n report and the guilt of his
friend
Remington for the fabricated drawing. H e then added, hoping to fully absolve himself from blame: My only object in writing the article was to try and show the people in the United States how little protection they may expect on one of their own vessels, under their own flag, in the harbor of Havana, where there should have been an American man-of-war stationed for the last six months. 61
For a contemporary journalist to make such a confession, and still contend that he or she had been scrupulously faithful to the facts, would be inconceivable; it would be a contradiction i n terms. I t was not so to Davis. T h e antagonism of journalists i n the Progressive era to moralism may have been more a matter of style than of substance. M c C l u r e , for instance, told his writers to concentrate on telling an absorbing story, and the story, he believed, should have a moral— but the moral element was to be present "unconsciously."
This was not difficult for writers of the Progressive era to accept, for they understood facts to provide moral direction of themselves and prided themselves that their o w n moral precepts grew naturally out of their association w i t h the real world. They did not feel the moral declarations of the editorial writers to be subjective but to be dreamy; their own, of course, they took to be as irrefutable as the facts they uncovered. T h a t assurance, already i n question i n some fields, would not last much longer, even i n journalism.
struck a pose and saluted an ethic i n which nonbelief was their pride. Dreiser summed up this posture of negatives: "One can always talk to a newspaper man, I think, w i t h the full confidence that one is talking to a man who is at least free of moralistic mush."
60
A n d yet, the reporters themselves were full of a mush much
86
62
87
TWO JOURNALISMS I N THE 1890s W h i l e reporters subscribed concurrently to the ideals of
CHAPTER 3
factuality and of entertainment i n w r i t i n g the news, some of the papers they worked for chose identities that strongly emphasized one ideal or the other. T h e
STORIES ÄND INFORMATION:
Journal
World
and the
chose to be entertaining; the old penny press, espe-
cially the Times after Adolph Ochs rejuvenated i t i n 1896, took the path of factuality. I shall refer to these two models of
TWO JOURNALISMS IN
journalism as the ideal of the "story" and the ideal of "information." W h e n telling stories is taken to be the role of
THE 1890s
the newspaper, journalism is said to fulfill what
George
Herbert M e a d described as an "aesthetic" function. M e a d wrote that some parts of the news—the election results or stock market reports—emphasize exclusively "the t r u t h value of news," but for most of the news i n a paper, the "enjoyabil i t y " or "consummatory value" is more important. T h e news
J L V E P O R T I N G was an invention of the end of the nine-
serves p r i m a r i l y to create, for readers, satisfying aesthetic
teenth century, but i t was a two-part invention: the emergence
experiences which help them to interpret their o w n l w e s a p d
of the new occupation played off against the industrialization
to relate them to the nation, town, or class to which they
of the newspaper. A n d while there was much that united the
belong. M e a d took this to be the actual, and the proper,
ideology of reporters, there was much that divided the identi-
function of a newspaper and observed that it is manifest i n the
ties of the newspapers for which they worked. I n N e w York,
fact that "the reporter is generally sent out to get a story, not
most of the major papers were direct descendants of the penny
the facts." I n this view, the newspaper acts as a guide to
press: the Sun, the Herald,
living not so much by providing facts as by selecting them and
the Tribune,
and the Times. O f
papers that antedated the penny press, only the Evening
Post
1
framing them.
still had an important following. T h e two largest papers were
A n alternative model of the newspaper's role proposes that
the World, begun i n 1859 and revived by Joseph Pulitzer in
the newspaper is uniquely defined as a genre of literature
1883, and the Journal,
begun i n 1882 by Pulitzer's brother
precisely to the extent that the facts i t provides are unframed,
but escorted to the stage of history when W i l l i a m Randolph
that it purveys pure "information." Walter Benjamin suggest-
Hearst bought it i n 1895. Both of these papers were sharply
ed that "information" is a novel form of communication, a
distinguished from the others; they represented what contem-
product of fully developed capitalism, whose distinguishing
poraries generally referred to as "the new journalism." T h e
characteristic is that it "lays claim to prompt verifiability." Its
established papers found their competition and their manners
aim, above a l l , is to be "understandable i n itself." W h i l e it
deeply disturbing and wrote of them w i t h the same moral
may actually be no more exact than varieties of "intelligence"
horror that had greeted their own arrival i n N e w York
of the past, unlike earlier intelligence, which might be justi-
journalism fifty years before.
fied by reference to the miraculous, " i t is indispensable for
88
89
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
information to sound plausible." For this reason, i n Benjamin's analysis, information "proves incompatible w i t h the
TWO JOURNALISMS I N T H E 189ÛS
New York read the Times and less wealthy people read the World?
W h a t is the meaning of the two journalisms of the
2
spirit of storytelling." T h i s view of the newspaper is echoed
1890s?
in the recent w o r k of A l v i n Gouldner, who refers to news as "decontextualized" communication. I t is a form of what Basil Bernstein, on whose work Gouldner relies, calls an "elaborated code," i n which all is spelled out, nothing left to implicit or tacit understanding.
8
Journalism as Entertainment: Joseph Pulitzer a n d
the
New York World
Rightly or wrongly, the informational ideal i n journalism is associated w i t h fairness, objectivity, scrupulous
dispassion.
Joseph Pulitzer began his newspaper career i n St. Louis.
Newspapers which stress information tend to be seen as more
Party papers prevailed there until the 1870s when "indepen-
reliable than "story" papers. But who makes this judgment
dent j o u r n a l i s m " gained a foothold. A t u r n i n g point for St.
and on what grounds? W h o regards the information model as
Louis journalism came i n 1871 when the Morning
more trustworthy than the story ideal, and what is meant,
hired Chicago's Joseph M c C u l l a g h as editor. M c C u l l a g h
after all, by "reliable" or "trustworthy"? I f journalists on the
stressed news, rather than opinion, and, on what was by then
whole give credit to both ideas at once, how is it that different
the increasingly familiar model of James Gordon Bennett,
newspaper institutions come to stand for one or the other?
concentrated
A n d how is it that those which stand for the information
reporting.
model come to be regarded as the more responsible?
on
local police,
court,
society,
and
Globe
street
Pulitzer was an Austrian Jewish immigrant who arrived i n
It is the unexceptional theme of this chapter that, in the
the United States i n 1864, at the age of seventeen, to fight in
most general terms, there is a connection between the educat-
the C i v i l W a r . I n St. Louis, after the war, he studied law and
ed middle class and information and a connection between the
was admitted to the bar, but, i n part because of his limited
middle and w o r k i n g classes and the story ideal. T h e puzzle
facility i n English, he did not practice law. Instead, he became
here, as i n most other discussions of popular culture, is w h y
a reporter for the city's German-language newspaper, the
this should be the case. W h a t is it about information that
Westliche
seems to appeal to the educated middle class? W h a t is it about
politics—first Republican, then Democratic—Pulitzer
the story that seems to attract the working-class reader? Is it
able to buy the St. Louis
right to associate the information model w i t h the notion of
served as its publisher, editor, and business manager. Under
Post. Active and successful in journalism and i n Post and Dispatch
was
i n 1878. H e
objectivity? Should we regard it as a "higher" form of
his guidance, the paper became more audacious in promoting
journalism than the story model? I n the critical decades from
the Democratic Party and turned much brighter i n its style. I t
1883 to the first years of this century, when at the same
began to carry statistics of trade from the Merchants' E x -
moment yellow journalism was at its height and the
New
change, the produce markets, and the waterfront. I n 1879 it
York Times established itself as the most reliable and respect-
became the first St. Louis paper to publish quotations on
ed newspaper i n the country, w h y did wealthier people i n
stocks issued by local firms. Pulitzer repeatedly appealed to
90
91
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
"the people," by w h i c h he meant, it seems, "the
TWO JOURNALISMS I N THE 1890s
stable
same). H e initiated the practice of selling advertising space on
was
the basis of actual circulation and selling it at fixed prices; at
antagonistic to labor, and it held to the high price of five cents
the same time, he abandoned the traditional penalties for
an issue. According to J u l i a n Rammelkamp, historian of
advertisers who used illustrations or broke column-rules.
Pulitzer's years as St. Louis editor, " T h e fundamental aims of
Pulitzer thus helped rationalize newspaper business practice
the paper were middle class—to foster the development of St.
and the relations between newspapers and advertisers.
4
householder, of whatever class." T h e Post and Dispatch
Louis as a business center and as an attractive place of
7
T h i s was a significant achievement. U n t i l the 1880s, de-
5
residence for the average citizen." Pulitzer's great innovation
spite James Gordon Bennett's business enterprise, magazines
in his years i n St. Louis was the development of the newspa-
and newspapers were hostile to advertisers. Most newspapers
per crusade. T h e crusade was by no means unknown else-
believed large ads wasted space and were " u n f a i r " to the
where, especially i n N e w York, but Pulitzer made startling
small advertisers who were the foundation of advertising
headlines and political exposes a constant feature of, his paper,
revenue. Editors felt that advertising should command only so
stimulating circulation and presumably changing the city for
much' of the newspaper's space, which, from the expense of
the better.
paper and from custom, was severely limited. Advertising,
I n 1883 Pulitzer«,plugged his Western voice into the a m p l i fier of the East, New Y o r k City. H e bought the New
York
World, a paper of some reputation during the 1860s and
then, was confined to agate-size type. James Gordon Bennett, in fact, held that the advertiser should gain advantage from what he said, but not from how the advertisement was printed
1870s which had fallen on hard times. W h e n Pulitzer bought
^displayed.
it, its circulation was about fifteen thousand. A year later it
^
The
8
relationship between
newspapers and
advertisers
was sixty thousand. I n another year it was one hundred
changed dramatically i n the 1880s. Thanks i n part to the
thousand, and by the fall of 1886 it passed a quarter million.
growth of department stores and the development of brand
Pulitzer attributed this astonishingly rapid success to his
names and trademarks by national manufacturing concerns,
editorial position. " W e can conscientiously say," he wrote in
business demand for advertising space accelerated. T h e ratio
9
an 1884 editorial, "that we believe the success of T H E
of editorial matter to advertising i n the newspaper changed
W O R L D is largely due to the sound principles of the paper
from about 70-30 to 50-50 or lower.
rather than to its news features or its price."
There was a measure of t r u t h i n this. I t is not an accident that the World
and Hearst's Journal,
10
Advertising revenue
6
represented 44 percent of total newspaper income i n 1880, 55 percent by 1900.
11
T h i s did not diminish the reliance of
the city's two most
newspapers on circulation but, on the contrary, made circular
widely read papers at the t u r n of the century, were both
tion more firmly the measure of a newspaper's competitive
Democratic. But this was not the mainspring, or mainstay, of
standing. Newspapers became brokers of their o w n columns,
Pulitzer's (or Hearst's) success. Pulitzer's energy and innova-
selling their space and the readership it represented to adver-
tion i n business practice played a larger role. Publishing the
tisers. Circulation became less a private matter of pride and
World at a penny a copy, he forced the Times to drop its price
income, more a public and audited indicator of the newspa-
from four cents to two, the Herald,
from three to two, and the
per's w o r t h as an advertising medium. Newspapers no longer
from four to three (the two-cent Sun stayed the
could judge their advertisers from on high; they were them-
Tribune,
92
93
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
selves judged by the advertisers. T h i s became especially true
TWO JOURNALISMS I N THE 1890s organization of business, but the innovation most responsible
as advertising developed as an independent institution apart
forjthe paper's rapidly growing circulation was, in.a..word,
from the press and separate from businesses themselves.
sensationalism. T h e sensationalism Pulitzer brought to New
Entrepreneurial advertising agents, i n the years after the
York was not altogether revolutionary. Its attention to local
Civil W a r , would buy newspaper space and then t r y to sell it
news, especially crime and scandal and high society, contin-
to advertisers; agents would be tempted to exaggerate
the
ued i n the tradition of the penny press. Indeed, this subject-
circulations of newspapers i n which they owned space to
matter focus, which had scandalized the established press of
increase their chances to resell the space. But, i n 1869,
the 1.830s, was typical of most major papers by the 1880s i n
George P. Rowell, who later founded Printer's
Ink, published
his first newspaper directory listing a l l the newspapers i n the
New . Y o r k — w i t h some variation, of course, and w i t h the lagging and Olympian exception of the Evening
Post. But
country and the best available circulation figures for them.
what defined sensationalism i n the 1880s was less substance
T h i s did not w i n friends among newspapers or among
than style: how extravagantly should the news be displayed?
advertising agents, but as Rowell's reliability came to be
Sensationalism meant self-advertisement. I f , as James Gor-
accepted, advertising agents were forced to find new bases for
don Bennett recognized i n the 1840s, everything, including
competition. N . W f Ayer and Son, the first modern advertis-
advertising, could and should be news, the sensational papers
ing agency, inaugurated an "open contract" system i n 1875.
of the 1880s and 1890s discovered that everything, including
Under this plan, the agent became the sole advertising repre-
news, could and should be advertising for the newspapers.
sentative of the advertiser, and offered h i m expert advice on
For instance, the World i n the 1890s regularly took a column
how and where to advertise i n return for a fixed commission.
or two on the front page to boast of its high circulation. I t
T h i s led newspapers to become more businesslike, as Daniel
regularly headlined the fact, i n its advertising pages, that i t
Boorstin observes:
printed more advertisements than any other paper i n the
Advertising space in newspapers and magazines became a commodity in the open market, and publishers were finally under pressure to give full and accurate facts about the circulation and character of their publications.
country and included the facts and figures to prove i t .
12
Self-advertisement, as I use the term, is anything about newspaper layout and newspaper policy, outside of basic news gathering, which is designed to attract the eye and small
The new relationship between newspapers and advertisers
change of readers. One of the most important developments of
was marked i n 1887 by the establishment of the American
self-advertising i n this sense was the use of illustrations.
Newspaper Publishers Association. T h e main concern of this
Pulitzer, perhaps feeling that illustrations lowered the dignity
trade association i n its early years was regulating the newspa-
of a newspaper, intended at first to eliminate them from the
pers' business w i t h advertising agencies. I t regulated commis-
World,
sions paid to agencies, it standardized the means by which
circulation of the paper went w i t h the c u t s . "
advertising rates would be computed, and, as early as 1889,
reversed field and, w i t h i n the first year of his World
began to publish a list of approved ad agencies.
18
Pulitzer's rationalization of the World's advertising policies helped the World
adapt to general changes i n the social
but he found, as The Journalist
wrote, that "the 14
Pulitzer manage-
ment, hired Valerian Gribayedoff, a portrait artist, and W a l t M c D o u g a l l , a cartoonist. T h e i r efforts, according to Robert Taft's history of American photography, " m a r k the beginning
95
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
of the modern era of newspaper illustration." York Daily Graphic,
16
The
New
i n 1873, became the first American daily
to regularly use illustrations—and it offered little except illustrations. A t first, Pulitzer did not regard the World
as
competing w i t h the Daily Graphic. 'By the summer of 1884, however, Pulitzer classified both papers as "illustrated daily journals"; by 1889, the World's
extravagant use of both
political cartoons and, especially i n the Sunday editions, "cuts whose only justification was the fun of looking at pictures" drove the Daily Graphic
out of business.
Another major development i n self-advertisement was largfor years. Rather than introduce headlines spanning several columns, he emphasized important stories simply by adding more banks of headlines w i t h i n the same column. Headlines, like advertisements, abided by column-rules. N o t u n t i l 1889 r u n a two-column headline, but by the late
1890s, especially through the competition w i t h Hearst, large, screaming headlines were frequently a part of the make-up.
World's
Newspaper self-advertising also had to do w i t h the newspapers' promotion of their own exclusive features. Comparing Post i n the 1890s,
sharp differences i n the amount of self-advertising become apparent. For the first week of January, 1896, the
Evening
Post, true to its long-standing editorial and stylistic conservatism, was free of overt self-advertisement. T h e Times
was
different. O n January 2, it devoted almost a l l of its front page to historian John Bach McMaster's essay on the Monroe Doctrine, which was relevant at the time w i t h respect to conflict over Venezuela. T h e next day, the Times' front page featured the remarks of Congressmen who responded (favorably) to McMaster's paper. T h e Times' decision to print the McMaster piece made it news, of a sort, and the follow-up coverage proved the Times to be an important paper read by
96
significance. T h e World, meanwhile, was crusading against J . P. M o r g a n and the
financial
manipulations of his "bond
syndicate." O n six of the first seven days of January, the World's
lead story was the bond issue. T h e Times featured
the bond story just twice the same week, leading w i t h Venezuela three times. Both were important events. B u t i t is clear that the reason the Times featured Venezuela, and the World the bonds, was linked to the possibilities the stories relative importance of the stories i n some abstract scale of significance. , I f we can argue that the World became the circulation giant of N e w York journalism i n the 1880s because of its vigorous and unembarrassed use of illustrations and other techniques of self-advertisement, we must still ask why that helped the World's
circulation. T h e answer to that is complicated a n d
reminds us how closely intertwined are the histories ol newspapers and the histories of cities. N e w York, i n the 1880s and 1890s, was a city of immigrants. T h e first year i n which
17
the World, the Times, and the Evening
important people. T h e M c M a s t e r essay had no other notable
afforded each of the papers for self-promotion, not to the
16
er and darker headlines. Here Pulitzer remained conservative
did the World
TWO JOURNALISMS I N THE 1890s
more than half a million immigrants came to America was 1881, and immigration would reach that figure or higher i n six more years of the next twelve. Immigrants from southeastern Europe outnumbered those from northwestern Europe for the first time i n 1896, which suggests not only that there were more immigrants i n these years than ever before but that, especially w i t h respect to language, they were more "foreign" than ever before. By 1900, the United States had 26 million citizens whose parents were immigrants and 10 million who were mmiigrants themselves—46 population.
18
percent of the country's
Most immigrants settled i n cities, and many of
them settled i n New York. N e w York's foreign-born population rose from 479,000 i n 1880 to 640,000 i n 1890, by which time it was about 40 percent of the city's total population.
19
M a n y immigrants could not read, or could not read Eng-
97
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
TWO JOURNALISMS I N THE 1890s
lish; almost a l l of them wanted to learn. They could learn
tertainment. Hearst proudly proclaimed: " I t is the
something from the foreign-language press that grew rapidly
policy to engage brains as well as to get the news, for the
at the end of the nineteenth century. But many of the foreign
public i s ' even more fond of entertainment than i t is of
papers were edited by immigrant intellectuals whose under-
information."
standing of journalism was modeled on the journals of politics
News and Daily News, maintained that the newspaper had
and opinion they were used to i n Europe. T h e foreign-
three functions: to inform, to interpret, and to entertain.
23
Melville Stone, of the Chicago
Journal's
Morning 24
language press that proved most successful benefited from
Pulitzer did not talk up the idea of entertainment, but the
imitating the liveliness and style of mass-circulation papers
World came to embody i t . T h e importance of the entertaining
like the World. Abraham Cahan, editor of the Jewish
function of the paper was marked especially by the growth of
Forward,
Daily
pruned his Yiddish paper of difficult expressions,
the Sunday World which, like Sunday newspapers still, was
introduced English words most immigrants would know, and
las close to an illustrated magazine as to a daily newspaper i n
tried to make his paper bright, simple, and interesting, as he
style and content. Sunday papers had been rare early i n the
had learned to do while working w i t h Lincoln Steffens on the
century. I n 1842 only one N e w Yorker i n twenty-six bought a
Commercial
Advertiser.
20
T h e World's liberal use of cartoons
Sunday paper, while one i n seven bought a daily. I n 1850,
and drawings, liberal use of headline type, and its o w n
after heavy Irish immigration, one i n nine N e w Yorkers
emphasis on relatively simple words, content, and sentence
bought a Sunday paper. T h e Irish and other later immigrants
structure
came to the country without the American conservatism about
appealed
to
people
inexperienced
in
reading
English.
Sabbath observance. T h i s , plus the practice newspapers deto provide both editorial
veloped during the Civil W a r of printing special Sunday
leadership and news. As he wrote, he wanted the World to be
editions w i t h war news, made i t easier for papers to take the
/ " b o t h a daily school-house and a daily forum—both a daily
plunge into Sunday journalism and to appeal directly to the
Pulitzer intended the
World
T h i s equal estimation of the
interests of readers for diversion on the day of rest. By 1889,
editorial and news functions of the press was unusual i n the
one N e w Yorker i n two bought a Sunday paper, making more
late nineteenth century. Pulitzer may have created the first
Sunday newspaper readers than daily readers that year.
modern mass-circulation newspaper, but he did so as the last
Charles Dana, editor of the Sun, estimated i n 1894 that a
i teacher and a daily t r i b u n e . "
21
26
of the old-fashioned editors. M o s t leading newspaper p r o p r i -
paper w i t h a daily edition of 50,000, at two or three cents,
etors of the late nineteenth century were businessmen rather
would have a Sunday edition of 100,000 to 150,000, at five
than political thinkers, managers more than essayists or
cents.
activists. Pulitzer cared deeply about his editorial page, but
they began to find i n the daily press, too. Pulitzer used thej
Adolph Ochs considered eliminating the Times'
Sunday
editorials
26
W h a t readers found and liked i n the Sunday papers, World
"as a laboratory to test ideas that
finally
21
altogether; Hearst looked upon the editorial page w i t h con-
proved to be applicable throughout the week." Illustrations
tempt; James Gordon Bennett, Jr., toyed w i t h dropping the
and comic strips (the first color comic strips appeared i n the
22
editorial department of the Herald.
But i f the newspaper
was losing one function i n the eyes of many of the leaders of journalism, i t was—for some of them—gaining another: en-
98
Sunday World i n 1894) spread from the Sunday paper to the daily editions. T h e Sunday papers also led the way i n special women's
99
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
TWO JOURNALISMS I N THE 1890S
pages. Romantic fiction, which began i n the Sunday World i n
first women's "advice" column began i n the World i n 1883 as
1883, and poetry tended to be confined to Sundays, but other
a series of letters from city cousin Edith to country cousin
features for women made their way into the daily
World.
Bessie. E d i t h agreed to write "about some points of social
George Juergens explains the World's growing attention to
etiquette i n N e w York, so that when you move to the city next
women readers in the 1880s as Pulitzer's response to the
year from your lovely country home you can be au fait at
rising status of women. H e could not ignore feminism, or the
once."
3 0
Edith's concerns—such as the proper way to leave a
" N e w W o m a n " movement, but neither could he endorse it i f
calling card—had no connection to the daily problems of
he were to keep expanding his w o r k i n g class readership. T h e
women i n the tenements, but i t was closely tied to, and
compromise he worked out was to give more space to women's
constituent of, their dreams. Part of the experience of the city,
issues, but especially domestic life, fashion, and etiquette,
eyenjfor the poor, was that it nourished dreams. Every day
rather than women's suffrage or the question of women
one walked by, or rode by, one's nighttime visions incarnate;
working in traditionally male occupations.
28
T h i s suggests
the stories of H o r a t i o Alger may not have been true but must
that the status of women was changing as much as it was
have appeared to be true, or at least possible, and people live
"rising," and that some of the change had little or nothing to
by their concept of the possible.
do w i t h women's emancipation. W h a t was " r i s i n g " i n impor-
Besides, while most of the World's readers d i d not come
tance was not, i n the first instance, women so much as
from "lovely country homes," they were nonetheless country
consumption,
cousins uncertain about how to behave i n the city. T h e
the side of economic life for which women were
conventionally more responsible than men.
experience of newcomers to the cities may have been like that
Not the status of women, then, but the status of consump-
of the British working-class families, described by Peter
tion and the consumption of status were more important than
W i l l m o t t and M i c h a e l Young, who moved from a w e l l -
ever before, and this affected the newspapers. M a n y goods
established urban neighborhood to a suburban housing devel-
once produced by women i n the home for home use were now
opment i n the 1950s. I n the new environment, they did not
manufactured outside the home for women to buy. Moreover,
know where they stood. O u t w a r d signs of status, there being
many goods once sold i n neighborhood stores were now
no commonly recognized inner ones, became all-important:
promoted by department stores which sought city-wide distribution. Advertisers, and especially the department
stores,
sought a female audience and were surely impressed by newspapers which made conspicuous efforts to attract women readers. W h i l e the advertisers
had no vested interest i n
women's suffrage—or its absence—they must have been favorably impressed by the growing coverage of fashion, etiquette, recipes, beauty culture, and interior decorating in Pulitzer's
29
World.
Advertisers may also have taken heart from the evidence i n the newspapers of women's consciousness of social status. T h e
100
" I f , " says Mrs. Abbot, "you make your garden one way, they'll knock all theirs to pieces to make theirs like it. It's the same with curtains—if you put up new curtains, they have new curtains in a couple of months. And if someone buys a new rug, they have to hang it on the line so you can see it." 31
I n the settled working-class community, the status of job and income and education and home furnishing was largely irrelevant to judgments of personal worth. But i n the housing development where all people were strangers, judgments were made "on the trappings of the man rather than on the man himself." Young and W i l l m o t t conclude:
101
TWO JOURNALISMS I N THE 1890s
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
that this daily movement could be considerable i n terms of
Though people stay in their houses, they do in a sense belong to a strong and compelling group. They do not know their judge personally but her influence is continuously felt. One might even suggest, to generalize, that the less the personal respect received in small group relationships, the greater is the striving for the kind of impersonal respect embodied in a status judgment. The lonely man, fearing he is looked down on, becomes the acquisitive man; possession the balm of anxiety; anxiety the spur to unfriendliness.
miles and time consumed. Horse-drawn omnibuses helped urban expansion away from a port-based locus beginning in the 1830s, but the growth.ofjnfracity transportation was even more dramatic i n the last half of the century. T h e walking city of 1850 had become a riding city by 1900. The expansion / of horse-drawn buses and railways (horse manure and urine
32
had become a serious pollution problem i n N e w York by
I f this is a fair generalization, i t may also be fair to suggest
1890), and later cable lines and electric surface lines, elevated
that the United States i n the 1880s andJ 890s, particularly i n
rapid transit and subways, made mass suburban living possi-
its urban centers, was becoming more oriented to consump-
ble by 1900 and created a new segregation i n the city: the
tion, not only because of the expansion of manufacturing
poor lived near the city's center, while the middle class moved I
capacity and the rise of population—supply and demand i n (
the crudest form—but because of the changing web of social relationships i n the cities. T h e economy was becoming more social: the market tied together people of unconnected occupations, while factories and offices linked people of related occupations i n hierarchies. T h e society was, at the same time, becoming more economic: it bound people together more and ' more i n a system of social status inscribed i n consumer I goods.
farther out.
84
This had several consequences for the newspaper. Riding an omnibus or street railway was a novel experience. For the first
time i n human history, people other than the very
wealthy could, as a part of their daily life, ride i n vehicles they were not responsible for driving. T h e i r eyes and their hands were free; they could read on the bus. George Juergens has suggested that the World's change to a sensational style and
88
Newspapers, like the World, which sought a wide and general readership responded to the changing experience,
layout was adapted to the needs of commuters: reading on the! bus was difficult w i t h the small print and large-sized pages of most papers. So the World
reduced the size of the page,
perceptions, and aspirations of urban dwellers. T h i s meant,
increased the size of headlines and the use of pictures, and
indeed, an enlargement of the "entertainment" function of the
developed the "lead" paragraph, i n which all of the most vital
newspaper, but it also meant the expansion of what has
information of a story would be concentrated.
recently been called the "use-paper" rather than the newspa-
1840s, the "lead" had been pushed by the high cost of
86
F r o m the
per, the daily j o u r n a l as a compendium of tips for urban
telegraphic transmission of news; now i t was pulled by the
survival. City living, by the 1880s, had become very different
abbreviated moments i n which newspapers were being read.
from what i t had been i n the 1830s. I t was much more a
It is likely, then, that the growing use of illustration and large
mosaic of races and social types; it was much more a
headlines i n newspapers was as much an adaptation to the
maelstrom of social and geographic movement. Geographic
new habits of the middle class as to the new character of the
mobility for a growing middle class was something i t had
immigrant working class.
never been before—it was a daily round of movement from J home to work and back again. Improved urban transportation I and the movement of the middle class into the suburbs meant
102
What the availability of the role of passive passenger on a vehicle moving through city streets meant for people of many
103
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
TWO JOURNALISMS I N THE 1890S
classes is that one could take more naturally to the role of
could. Theodore Dreiser's Sister Carrie, out looking for work
onlooker. Charles Dickens, visiting New York i n 1842, ob-
on her first day i n Chicago, was "delayed at every step by the
served w i t h wonderment the omnibuses on Broadway, though
interest of the unfolding scene." She headed for the depart-
he paid just as much attention to the variety of private
ment stores, which she knew through their advertisements i n
carriages.
86
By 1868, when W a l t W h i t m a n wrote of his
delight w i t h the omnibus, he was looking from i t , not at it: Shall I tell you about [my life] just to fill up? I generally spend the forenoon in my room writing, etc., then take a bath, fix up and go out about twelve and loaf somewhere or call on someone down town or on business, or perhaps if it is very pleasant and I feel like it ride a trip with some driver friend on Broadway from 23rd Street to Bowling Green, three miles each way. (Every day I find I have plenty to do, every hour is occupied with something.) You know it is a never-ending amusement and study and recreation for me to ride a couple of hours on a pleasant afternoon on a Broadway stage in this way. You see everything as you pass, a sort of living, endless panorama—shops and splendid buildings and great windows: on the broad sidewalks crowds of women richly dressed continually passing, altogether different, superior in style and looks from any to be seen anywhere else—in fact a perfect stream of people—men too dressed in high style, and plenty of foreigners—and then in the streets the thick crowd of carriages, stages, carts, hotel and private coaches, and in fact all sorts of vehicles and many first-class teams, mile after mile, and the splendor of such a great street and so many tall, ornamental, noble buildings many of them of white marble, and the gayety and motion on every side: you will not wonder how much attraction all this is on a fine day, to a great loafer like me, who enjoys so much seeing the busy world move by him, and exhibiting itself for his amusement while he takes it easy and just looks on and observes. 37
the Chicago Daily News. Carrie was dazzled by their displays of goods and awe-struck by "the fine ladies who elbowed and ignored her" and the shop girls w i t h their "air of independence and indifference." Dreiser himself, as a reporter i n the 1890s, was a spectator, both by occupation and by avocation: My favorite pastime when I was not out on an assignment or otherwise busy, was to walk the streets and view the lives and activities of others, not thinking so much how I might advantage myself and my affairs as how, for some, the lightning of chance was always striking in somewhere and disrupting plans, leaving destruction and death in its wake, for others luck or fortune. 38
Chance and disaster interested others as onlookers, too. Local stores i n New York sold a pink booklet which was a key to the fire department's bell system. W i t h the booklet, anyone could listen to the fire bells and then find their way to the scene of the fire. M a b e l Osgood W r i g h t declared that "going to fires was one of my greatest desires."
39
Robert Park, a quarter
century later to be the chief force i n building the
first
important department of sociology in the country at the University of Chicago, was i n the 1890s a reporter for the New,, York Journal
and wrote of his delight i n watching the
life of the city: " W a l k i n g on upper Broadway or down to the Battery on a bright afternoon, or watching the oncoming and outgoing human tide as it poured morning and evening over
The country cousin i n the city gawks, and most city dwellers,
Brooklyn
at the end of the nineteenth century, were from the village or
spectacle."
farm. But the city cousin looks, too—the cities of the late nineteenth century were spectacles. Social life, i n general, was spectacular. W h i t m a n watched women and foreigners on the street; women, going out to work or to shop, watched one another; immigrants watched and learned as much as they
104
Bridge,
was
always
for
me
an
enthralling
40
Newspapers benefited from the experience of city life as a spectacle, and they contributed to i t . They provided their readers a running account of the marvels and mysteries of urban life. T h e "action j o u r n a l i s m " of Pulitzer, and later Hearst, created new marvels. I n M a r c h , 1885, the
World
105
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
TWO JOURNALISMS I N T H E 1890S
called on citizens to contribute pennies to build the pedestal
ley Warner's claim i n 1881 that the successful newspaper of
for the Statue of Liberty. By August, the World had collected
the future would be the best newspaper: " . . . only that type of
$100,000, almost all of it i n small contributions. T h i s enabled
newspaper can live which represents something, accurately
the World to picture itself as the champion of working people,
and sufficiently, to command a growing and attached clien¬
to criticize the "luxurious classes," and to promote simulta-
telle." The Journalist
took this to be a prophecy of the success
neously the city of N e w York, the mass of ordinary citizens,
of the New
and, of course, the New York World. T h i s was self-advertis-
the road to substantial success i n the newspaper business of
York Times: ". . . there is a clear recognition as
the course which the New
ing w i t h a vengeance. As late as 1870, church steeples towered over all other
low
"
4 1
York
Times
has aimed to fol-
Reporter and newspaper critic W i l l I r w i n wrote
buildings i n New York. T h i s changed dramatically in the
in 1911 that the Times came "the nearest of any newspaper to
next several decades. By 1890, the New York World complet-
presenting a truthful picture of life i n N e w York and the
ed its new building—the tallest and grandest building i n the
world at large."
city. T h e newspapers not only recorded social change; they
seventy-fifth
42
Melville Stone, w r i t i n g i n the
anniversary
issue (1926), praised
Times'
publisher
Adolph Ochs for having defied the view that only the sensa-
were part of i t . I n some measure, the mass journalism Pulitzer developed merely extended the revolution of the penny press in its attention to everyday life. But everyday life was different than it had been. I t was the everyday life of people new to political participation, to reading, to cities, to America, to the kaleidoscope of social and geographic mobility. They wanted the
tional newspaper could be a successful newspaper: " H e i n the end taught them [his competitors] that decency meant dollars."
43
There would probably have been little dissent from
Frank Presbrey's estimation of the Times, in his 1929 History and Development
of Advertising,
ential newspaper."
as "the world's most influ-
44
moral counsel of stories as much as any people did, but the
Nor did there seem to be much question about the source of
tales of the Bible and the lives of the saints were not suited to
the Times' influence: wealthy people read the Times, attract-
the new cities. T h e new journalism was. Pulitzer, an i m m i -
ed by its conservatism, decency, and accuracy. The
grant, a Jew, a self-made man, was, and his World set the
praised the Times i n 1897 as follows:
pace.
It has lived up to its motto of " A l l the news that's fit to Print," and the great cultivated, well-to-do class do not want anything beyond that. As an advertising medium for good goods it is steadily growing in value. It may not have so large a number of readers as some of its less conservative contemporaries, but its readers represent more dollars, which, after all, is what the advertiser is after.
Journalism as I n f o r m a t i o n : The Rise of the New York Times
Journalist
46
Wealthy people found the Times of value to them i n their The World may have set the pace for modern mass-circula-
business. Chester S. L o r d , for three decades managing editor
tion journalism, but after 1896 the New
York Times estab-
of the New York Sun, wrote a guide to aspiring journalists in
in a 1902 editorial on
1922, i n which he approvingly quoted one observer of the
lished the standard. The Journalist,
"Standards i n American Journalism," recalled Charles D u d -
106
journalistic scene as saying:
107
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
Probably thousand that they it in any
five hundred men in New York City would pay a dollars a year each for the commercial information alone receive from the New York Times if they could not obtain other way. 40
TWO JOURNALISMS I N THE 1 890s opportunity to advertise itself, reported that its own canvass showed Odell would w i n by ten thousand votes, despite the fact that the charges against Odell were "regarded generally as proved." O n October 27, the Times featured an accident i n
W h e n Ochs took over the Times in 1896, he inaugurated the
Yonkers i n which twenty persons were injured i n a collision
publication each day of a list of out-of-town buyers in the city,
of a trolley and an automobile. T h e World took this as its
he began to report real estate transactions, expanded
second most important story (reporting twenty-two injured)
the
financial reporting of the paper, and initiated a weekly review
and featured, instead, a story headlined, "Reports Flying of
of financial news. T h e Times quickly established itself as the
M o r e Charges Against Odell."
"Business Bible."
47
By the time Elmer Davis published his
history of the Times i n 1921, he felt called upon to defend the
Clearly, it served the World's
views to play up H i l l ' s
charges against Odell; i t served the Times to play them down.
paper from charges that i t was r u n by its bondholders and
On October 28, both papers featured the Democratic congres-
served as an organ for the wealthy classes. H i s rebuttal is
sional rally i n N e w York. But the Times simply headlined the
revealing: "The Times can be called the organ of the investing
event—Democratic
class only i n the sense that most investors read it because of
nounced what it believed happened there: " H i l l at Great
the volume and reliability of its financial news."
48
I t is clear,
in comparing the Times and the World at the t u r n of the
congressional r a l l y — w h i l e the World an-
Meeting Says Odell Confessed." T h e Evening
Post showed
its colors by failing to find any place on the front page for the
century, that the Times not only had more financial news but
Democratic rally and by featuring, instead, a story, " C o m -
more financial advertising. W h y did wealthy people read the
ment on H i l l Charges," i n which Republican leaders sought
Times? Because it was their business to do so.
to clear Odell.
But
this is only the beginning of an explanation. T h e
This exercise i n comparing newspapers is important i n two
Times
respects. First, it simply helps establish the fact that the
tended to be conservative and expressed its conservatism i n
Times was politically conservative, which no doubt increased
political tone of the Times also made a difference: the
both editorials and i n presentation of political news. T h e
its popularity among the rich. Second, it suggests the relative
Times characteristically favored the reelection of Republican
difficulty of establishing, at least i n the area of political
cham-
reporting, that one newspaper is markedly more fair than
pioned the Democrat, B i r d Coler. Comparing the front pages
another. I n the emphasis and choice of news, the Times and
of the two papers for the week before the election is instruc-
the World both were guided by their political biases. T h a t is
tive. O n October 25, both papers featured (by which I mean
scarcely a dazzling conclusion, but i t is one which asks us to
placed i n the right-hand column on page one) the story of a
look further to figure out w h y the Times gained the preemi-
train robbery i n Montana. (The Evening
nent reputation it did.
governor Benjamin Odell i n 1902, while the World
Post, by the way,
did not report this story at all.) O n October 26, the lead story
T w o important aspects of the Times' rise after 1896 need to
in the Times covered Odell's speeches upstate i n which he
be explained and are not explained by the financial focus or
defended himself against charges of corruption by the Demo-
political bent of the paper's contents. First, i n advertising
cratic ex-Senator David H i l l . T h e World, typically taking the
itself the Times stressed its "decency," not its news coverage
108
109
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
or accuracy or politics. Second, the Times made its first large leap i n circulation two years after Ochs assumed control of the paper, when it lowered its price from three cents to a penny. The Journalist "Men
spoke for many others i n arguing,
who want T h e Times would pay 3 cents as soon as 1.
The circulation won't increase one little b i t . "
49
But w i t h i n a
year circulation had grown from twenty-five to seventy-five thousand—not enough to compete w i t h the World Journal,
or the
but easily enough to secure a solid place i n N e w
York journalism. I f we can understand these two aspects of the success of the Times, we w i l l be closer to comprehending the " t w o journalisms" of the 1890s. Adolph Ochs bought the failing and demoralized New Times
York
i n August, 1896. Ochs, at thirty-eight, was a very
successful newspaper publisher. T h e eldest of six children
TWO JOURNALISMS I N THE 189ÛS
than it can be learned through any other reliable medium; to give the news impartially, without fear or favor, regardless of any party, sect or interest involved; to make the columns of The New York Times a forum for the consideration of all questions of public importance, and to that end to invite intelligent discussion from all shades of opinion. There will be no radical changes in the personnel of the present efficient staff. M r . Charles R. Miller, who has so ably for many years presided over the editorial page, will continue to be the editor; nor will there be a departure from the general tone and character and policies pursued with relation to public questions that have distinguished The New York Times as a nonpartisan newspaper— unless it be, i f possible, to intensify its devotion to the cause of sound money and tariff reform, opposition to wastefulness and peculation in administering the public affairs and in its advocacy of the lowest tax consistent with good government, and no more government than is absolutely necessary to protect society, maintain individual vested rights and assure the free exercise of a sound conscience.
born to German Jewish immigrants i n Knoxville, Tennessee, Knoxville
It is a remarkable statement. T h e World at the time, i n its
at fourteen, then a printer i n Louisville and Knox-
morning and evening editions, had a circulation of 600,000
Ochs became a chore boy and printer's devil on the Chronicle
ville, then a business solicitor for the Chattanooga and
finally,
Dispatch,
at age twenty and for $500, publisher of the
and the Journal, 130,000; the Herald
430,000. T h e Sun's
two editions sold
sold 140,000; the Evening
Chattanooga Times. H e turned his paper into one of the most
and the Tribune,
lucrative newspapers i n the South and hoped, i n 1896, to be
9,000." A n d yet, Ochs announced no plan to change the
just as successful w i t h the New York Times.
60
H e announced
his newspaper policies i n the Times on August 19, 1896:
16,000. T h e Times'
Post, 19,000;
circulation was just
character of the paper. H e would not change its staff; he would not alter its politics. A n d he hoped the paper would continue to address a select readership of "thoughtful, pure-
To undertake the management of The New York Times, with its great history for right-doing, and to attempt to keep bright the lustre which Henry J. Raymond and George Jones have given it, is an extraordinary task. But i f a sincere desire to conduct a highstandard newspaper, clean, dignified and trustworthy, requires honesty, watchfulness, earnestness, industry and practical knowledge applied with common sense, I entertain the hope that I can succeed in maintaining the high estimate that thoughtful, pureminded people have ever had of The New York Times. It will be my earnest aim that The New York Times give the news, all the news, in concise and attractive form, in language that is parliamentary in good society, and give it as early, i f not earlier,
no
minded people." H i s words are calm and determined, both high-minded and businesslike. George Jones, who had edited the Times from 1869 u n t i l his death i n 1891, had boasted that no man had ever been asked to subscribe to, or advertise i n the Times.™ Ochs had no such contempt for solicitation. H e became the first publisher, i n 1898, to solicit circulation by telephone. H e offered a bicycle tour of France and England to the one hundred persons bringing i n the most new subscribers. T h e former campaign, of course, reached only the relatively well to do ///
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
T W O JOURNALISMS I N T H E 189ÛS
who had telephones. T h e latter scheme focused on school and
praved." O n the same day, the Times editorialized on "Freak
college teachers and stressed, i n the contest advertising, that
Journalism and the B a l l . " I t attacked the World's extravagant
" T o be seen reading T h e New
coverage of the Bradley M a r t i n ball at the Waldorf, suggest-
respectability."
York
Times is a stamp of
58
ing that the World's
T w o months after Ochs took over the paper, the famous
artists made their drawings of the
festivities before the ball took place. ( I t should be observed
motto, " A l l the News That's F i t to P r i n t , " first appeared on
that the Times did not skimp on its o w n coverage of the ball.
the editorial page. A t the same time, Ochs started a circula-
It reported the gala affair i n a page-one, column-one story on
tion-building contest offering $100 for a better slogan. T h e
February 12 and devoted a l l of page two to detailing who the
winning entry was " A l l the World's News, but N o t a School
guests were, what they wore, and where they dined before the
for Scandal." Still, the editors preferred their o w n invention,
great event.)
and by February, 1897, " A l l the News That's F i t to P r i n t " was moved permanently to the front page. T h e Times'
were scuffling
over Richard H a r d i n g Davis' report on the Olivette affair.
slogan, like its general statement of policy,
emphasized decency as much as accuracy. T h e Times could not, and did not, compete w i t h the World and the Journal circulation; advertising i n The Journalist
A few days later the World and the Journal T h e Times
did not discuss the item of news itself but
editorialized on the press coverage of i t : " W e remark w i t h
for
interest the rivalry of our esteemed freak contemporaries, and
i n 1902, the Times
especially the keen interest they manifest i n exposing each
claimed the highest circulation of any newspaper i n the city—
other's 'beats'." T h e Times took a bemused tone but it had a
and then, i n smaller print, excepted the World
certain bite:
Journal^
and the
as i f they were i n another category of publication
altogether.
64
I n a sense, they were, and the Times used them
as a foil i n promoting itself. T h e Times joined the Sun and Press and other papers i n a new " m o r a l w a r " i n journalism. I t pointedly advertised itself w i t h the slogan, " I t does hot soil the breakfast cloth," as opposed to the " y e l l o w " journals. Some items from the Times,
i n the winter of 1897, are
" T h e M o d e r n Newspaper"
on
February 12, the Times covered a speech at the Press C l u b of Colgate University given by the city editor of the Observer
Utica
i n which editor W . W . Canfield attacked papers
which padded news, printed private matters, spread indecent literature, and proved themselves unreliable. H e pleaded for more newspapers like the Times. " A newspaper," he said, "was declared to be a companion, and surely the intelligent would not accept as a companion the vicious and the de-
112
60
Unlike other papers i n N e w York, the Times apparently had
65
probably representative of its attitude toward the yellow press. I n a story headed
The fact that the picture from the point of view of the Cuban young lady was a greater horror and indignity than any to which the detectives could have subjected her was a detail not worth the consideration of an enterprising artist or a freak journal.
a good memory. T w o weeks after the Olivette affair was first reported, when the exiled Cuban women to whom Davis had talked arrived i n N e w York, the Times—and the Times—was the Times
i t seems only
at the dock to interview them. O n M a r c h 2
printed a page one story, "Cuban Women 111
Treated." Characteristically, the story made no reference to the earlier news reports i n the Journal Times
account confirmed the World
and the World. T h e story that the women
were searched by a matron. But, i n spirit, i t confirmed the imagination of Remington and the outrage of Davis. T h e Cuban woman the Times interviewed complained that while she was being searched, the Spanish inspector of police looked
113
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
through the porthole into the cabin and laughed at the humiliation of the women. T h e Times asked her i f she had really helped the insurgents as the Spanish claimed. She smiled "significantly" and said: " W e l l , I am a Cuban, and my
TWO JOURNALISMS I N THE 1890s toned, conservative paper available to more readers, assured the Times of success. I n the very years that yellow journalism was at its most manic, the Times was thriving. Ochs' own explanation of this was simple: many people bought the World or the Journal
father died fighting for Cuba L i b r e ten years ago." T h e next day the Times returned to its indirect assault on the yellow journals by r u n n i n g a page-two story on " N e w Journalism and V i c e " which covered the speech of the Reverend D r . W . H . P . Faunce at the twenty-fifth anniversary of the N e w Y o r k Society for the Suppression of Vice. Faunce said:
because they were cheap, not
because they were sensational. M a n y people, i f they could afford i t , would choose "a clean newspaper of high and honorable aims, which prints a l l the news that is fit to print, and expresses its editorial opinions w i t h sincere conviction and independence."
69
But this blithe confidence was not
widely shared and, even for some editors at the Times, Ochs himself was the mystery to be explained. I n 1915 and 1916,
The press of this country to-day is engaged in a fearful struggle, one class against another. On one side stand the reputable papers which represent decency and truth, and on the other, is what calls itself the new journalism, but which is in reality as old as sin itself.
editorial page editor Garet Garrett kept a diary and, i n a number of entries, tried to fathom Ochs' power and success. H e found Ochs a crude sort of man i n some respects. H e was too interested i n money—he "higgles terrifically over pay"
O n M a r c h 4 a Times editorial headed " A W o r k of M o r a l
and "is always impressed by large figures of wealth or
Sanitation" praised Faunce. I t also drew attention to the
income." T r u e , Ochs found the suggestion that the Times was
decision of the public library i n N e w a r k to exclude the
a commercial success "the unpardonable insult," but Garrett
sensational papers, but offered its o w n alternate method of
had an explanation for this, too: " H i s ambition (and i t is not
reform: " T o make the reading of the new journals, except
strange, seeing how all men long for that which i n themselves
behind a screen, a social offense punishable w i t h scorn and
is unattainable), his ambition is to produce a highbrow
contempt would be a salutary and sufficient measure of
newspaper for intellectuals."
reform."
57
Garrett ridiculed Ochs' attention to money and his appar-
I n October, 1898, the Times lowered its price from three cents to a penny. W i t h i n a year its circulation jumped from 25,000 to 75,000, and after that continued to rise steadily: 82,000 i n 1900; 121,000 i n 1905; 192,000 i n 1910; and 343,000 by 1920. W h i l e some critics suggested that the drop
ently meager intellectual equipment—"Intellectually he is the inferior of any man at the [editorial] council table"—but Garrett was nonetheless fascinated by Ochs' unquestioned success. H e criticized Ochs for choosing words badly and for expressing himself ungrammatically, but he also wrote:
in price would reduce the value of the Times to advertisers seeking an exclusive readership, i t seems only to have enhanced the Times'
reputation w i t h advertisers. T h e
Times
had 2.4 million agate lines of advertising i n 1897, 2.4 million again i n 1898, but then 3.4 million i n 1899 and 4.0 million i n 1900, 6.0 million i n 1905, 7.6 million i n 1910, and 23.4 million i n 1920.
114
68
I am aware, however, that the presence of M r . O. gives our thoughts and expressions an elasticity that they did not have in his absence. None of us values his mental processes highly, and yet, he has a way of seeing always the other side that stimulates discussion, statement and restatement, and leaves a better product altogether than is approached in his absence.
T h e price cut, it appears, making a high-
115
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
T W O JOURNALISMS I N THE
1890s
H o w could this be? I t was, Garrett felt, that Ochs, "for his
viewing indicate that highly educated people do not watch
lack of reasoned conviction, is a l l the more seeing." A t another
significantly less television, or even "better" television, than
time he wrote that Ochs had "a kind of emotional tolerance of
the less educated—they simply feel differently about i t .
humanity, bordering on sheer sentimentality, which contin-
repeats what observers at the end of the nineteenth century
ually expresses itself i n the other point of view, whatever that
already saw i n the case of newspaper reading. Pulitzer, i n
62
This
happens to be. W i t h o u t fixed convictions on anything, he can
1884, mocked M a t t h e w Arnold's criticism of sensational
let his feelings r u n . " A n d then he came to this judgment of the
papers, noting, " L i k e everybody else, M a t t h e w buys and
enigma of Ochs:
reads the newspapers that are racy."
The secret—the secret of the man himself and of his success with the Times as well—is that M r . O. has crowd-consciousness. He, with a newspaper, is like the orator. Both of them address a crowd, with an understanding of its emotions, or rather, with a likeness of emotions, and as the orator and the crowd react on each other, so M r . O. and the Times readers react on each other.
plaining i n The Nation i n 1895 that sensational papers were
I n an essay on Ochs i n the Atlantic
E . L . Godkin, com-
getting too much attention, nonetheless observed that they drew their readership from a l l social strata: " . . . this stuff is greedily read by all classes." H e noted that "the grumblers over the readers."
" M r . Ochs," he concluded, "is a c r o w d . "
68
wicked journals are
often their most
diligent
64
60
There is, then, a moral dimension to the reading of i n 1926, Benjamin
Stolberg echoed Garrett's assessment i n a more catty tone. Ochs, he wrote, "is not merely an honest, but a congenital conformist. H e is the living norm of the median culture of
different kinds of newspapers; there is pride and shame i n reading. T h i s helps establish the plausibility of the hypothesis that the Times' readership was not w o n simply by the utility of the articles it printed for businessmen and lawyers or the
American life." T h e Times succeeded because it appeared on
resonance of its political outlook w i t h the politics of affluent
the scene at a time of widespread emulation and conspicuous
readers. T h e Times attracted readers among the wealthy and
consumption. Most people read the Times because the elite
among those aspiring to wealth and status, i n part, because it
read i t . Ochs himself had noted that "no one needs to be
was socially approved. I t was itself a badge of respectability.
ashamed to be seen reading" the Times. T h i s , according to Stolberg, not any intrinsic excellence, accounted for the paper's success: " I t is i n the Times that we can all worship the Idols of the Cave without being caught i n our idolatry."
But this only poses the question i n a different way: what made the Times respectable? W h a t made i t seem morally superior? Was i t deemed respectable because i t appealed to
61
the affluent? O r did i t appeal to the affluent because it was
Stolberg's gibes are suggestive. T h e reading public may
respectable? A n d i f the latter, is "respectability" to be under-
well be divided morally i n ways that are related to class but
stood as a moral ideal emerging from the life experience of a
do not reflect i t i n any simple way. I f Stolberg is right, less
particular social group at a particular time or as a moral ideal
educated or less wealthy people read the Times to emulate
w i t h legitimate claims to wider allegiance or, perhaps, both?
those above them i n social standing, and so they read w i t h pride. M o r e educated and more wealthy people read not only the Times but the "story" newspapers and magazines, though they do so w i t h a feeling of shame. Today, studies of television
116
T h i s repeats, w i t h i n the field of journalism, perennial questions about high culture and popular culture. W h a t distinguishes them? Can we find any grounds for asserting that " a r t " is superior to popular culture? T h e question is of
117
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
sociological interest because the taste for high culture is so regularly associated w i t h educated and wealthy classes, the taste for popular culture, w i t h lower classes. A n d yet, while the tastes of different classes remain different from
one
another i n a given period, they change over time. U p until about the C i v i l W a r i n the United States, the most sophisticated elements i n the population preferred their literature, and even their journalism, flowery rather than plain, magni66
loquent rather than straightforward. By 1900, when "information" journalism was sponsored by an economic and social elite, i t was prized, but i n 1835, when the first steps toward an information model were taken by the penny press i n challenge of the elite of the day, i t was reviled. T h e moral war between information journalism and story journalism i n New York i n the 1890s was, like the moral wars of the 1830s, a cover for class conflict. But it was not merely a cover. T h e Times believed what it said about the disreputability of the new journalism. A n d the hew journalisms of the 1830s and the 1890s did have important features i n common. Both were great self-advertisers, and self-advertising is a moral stance as well as a journalistic style or commercial strategy. Among professionals like lawyers and physicians, advertising is generally prohibited or regulated by professional associations. T h e greater a newspaper's selfadvertising, the less it appears to maintain a "professional" standing. One who advertises i n professional relations, like one who boasts i n personal relations, tends to be distrusted, even i f there are no other evident reasons for distrust. Were there other good reasons for the Times readers to distrust or look down on the
World
and its and its
following? I t may be that the Times was more faithful to facts, for instance, than the World. I t may have reined i n its own biases, when i t knew them, though it did not, of course, always know them. But we cannot infer fairness or accuracy from the fact that the Times held to an informational model of
118
T W O JOURNALISMS I N THE 189ÛS
journalism. Information journalism is not necessarily more accurate than story journalism. T h e two journalisms differ intrinsically, to borrow a metaphor from music, not according to what physical tones they include, but according to the dynamic quality of the tones. " I n f o r m a t i o n " aspires to the position of twelve-tone music—music without an inherent, psychologically significant order to i t . T h e "story," on the other hand, plays intentionally on connections to human experience, just as seven-tone music counts on the states of tension, unrest, and resolution i t excites i n listeners. The moral division of labor between newspapers, then, may parallel the moral division of the human
faculties
between the more respectable faculties of abstraction and the less respectable feelings. People control themselves to read of politics i n fine print; they let themselves go to read of murders or to look at drawings of celebrities. Information is a genre of self-denial, the story one of self-indulgence. As one grows older and gains experience, one is supposed to be better able to anticipate life, to order i t , to control i t . One grows more rational. T h e Times wrote for the rational person or the person whose life was orderly. I t presented articles as useful knowledge, not as revelation. T h e World had a different feel to i t ; i n tone and display i t created the sense that everything was new, unusual, and unpredictable. There is every reason to believe that this accurately reflected the life experience of many people i n the cities, the newly literate and the newly urban, members of the working class and middle class. Life was a spectacle as never before for many, and the World spoke faithfully to that experience of the many, as the Times group.
did for the more ordered experience of a smaller 66
Perhaps, then, the Times established itself as the "higher journalism" because i t adapted
to the life experience of
persons whose position i n the social structure gave them the most control over their o w n lives. Its readers were relatively
119
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
independent and participant. T h e readers of the World were
CHAPTER 4
relatively dependent and nonparticipant. T h e experience engendered by affluence and education makes one comfortable w i t h a certain journalistic orientation, one which may indeed be, i n some respects, more mature, more encompassing, more
Objectivity Becomes
differentiated, more integrated. I t may also be, i n its o w n ways, more limited; refinement i n newspapers, people, and
Ideology: Journalism
sugar, is bleaching. I f the World's readers might have longed for more control of their lives, the readers of the Times may
After World War I
have wished for more nutrients i n theirs. A t the t u r n of the century and even as late' as the 1920s, "objectivity" was not a term journalists or critics of j o u r n a l ism used. Newspapers were criticized for failing to stick to the by which it meant information. B u t this was not objectivity;
N
the attachment to information did not betray much anxiety
1
facts, and the Times boasted that i t printed " a l l the news"—
1OTHING
thus far explains the twentieth century's
about the subjectivity of personal perspective. T h e Times in
passion for "objectivity." T h e rise of a democratic market
1900 trusted to information, that body of knowledge under-
society helped extinguish faith i n traditional authorities, but
standable i n itself without context (or w i t h a context taken for
this did not i n itself provide new authority. I n a democracy,
granted). T h a t was not to last. By the 1920s, journalists no
the people governed, not the "best people," and one vote was
longer believed that facts could be understood i n themselves;
as good as another. I n the market, things did not contain value
they no longer held to the sufficiency of information; they no
in themselves; value was an arithmetic outcome of a collection
longer shared i n the vanity of neutrality that had character-
of suppliers and demanders seeking their o w n interests. I n an
ized the educated middle class of the Progressive era. I n the
urban and mobile society, a sense of community or of the
twentieth century, the skepticism and suspicion which think-
public had no transcendent
significance, and, indeed, one
ers of the late nineteenth century, like Nietzsche, taught,
responded to other people as objects, rather than as kindred,
became part of general education. People came to see even the
and trusted to impersonal processes and institutions—adver-
findings of facts as interested, even memory and dreams as
tising, department stores, formal schooling, hospitals, mass-
selective, even rationality itself a front for interest or w i l l or
produced goods, at-large elections—rather than rely on per-
prejudice. T h i s influenced journalism i n the 1920s and 1930s
sonal relations. A l l of this focused attention on "facts." A l l of
and gave rise to the ideal of objectivity as we know it.
it contributed to what A l v i n Gouldner has called " u t i l i t a r i a n culture," i n which the normative order moved from a set of commandments to do what is right to a set of prudential warnings to adapt realistically to what is. Just when Freud was diagnosing the pathologies of the domineering superego, the superego and moral exhortation were i n retreat before the
120
121
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
independent and participant. T h e readers of the World were
CHAPTER 4
relatively dependent and nonparticipant. T h e experience engendered by affluence and education makes one comfortable w i t h a certain journalistic orientation, one which may indeed be, i n some respects, more mature, more encompassing, more differentiated, more integrated. I t may also be, i n its o w n
Objectivity Becomes
ways, more limited; refinement i n newspapers, people, and sugar, is bleaching. I f the World's readers might have longed
Ideology: Journalism
for more control of their lives, the readers of the Times may have wished for more nutrients i n theirs. A t the t u r n of the century and even as late' as the 1920s,
After World War I
"objectivity" was not a term journalists or critics of j o u r n a l ism used. Newspapers were criticized for failing to stick to the facts, and the Times boasted that i t printed " a l l the news"— by which i t meant information. But this was not objectivity;
^NOTHING
the attachment to information did not betray much anxiety
passion for "objectivity." T h e rise of a democratic market
thus far explains the twentieth century's
about the subjectivity of personal perspective. T h e Times i n
society helped extinguish faith i n traditional authorities, but
1900 trusted to information, that body of knowledge under-
this did not i n itself provide new authority. I n a democracy,
standable i n itself without context (or w i t h a context taken for
the people governed, not the "best people," and one vote was
granted). T h a t was not to last. By the 1920s, journalists no
as good as another. I n the market, things did not contain value
longer believed that facts could be understood i n themselves;
in themselves; value was an arithmetic outcome of a collection
they no longer held to the sufficiency of information; they no
of suppliers and demanders seeking their own interests. I n an
longer shared i n the vanity of neutrality that had character-
urban and mobile society, a sense of community or of the
ized the educated middle class of the Progressive era. I n the
public had no transcendent
significance, and, indeed, one
twentieth century, the skepticism and suspicion which think-
responded to other people as objects, rather than as kindred,
ers of the late nineteenth century, like Nietzsche, taught,
and trusted to impersonal processes and institutions—adver-
became part of general education. People came to see even the
tising, department stores, formal schooling, hospitals, mass-
findings of facts as interested, even memory and dreams as
produced goods, at-large elections—rather than rely on per-
selective, even rationality itself a front for interest or w i l l or
sonal relations. A l l of this focused attention on "facts." A l l of
prejudice. T h i s influenced journalism i n the 1920s and 1930s
it contributed to what A l v i n Gouldner has called "utilitarian
and gave rise to the ideal of objectivity as we know i t .
culture," i n w h i c h the normative order moved from a set of commandments to do what is right to a set of prudential warnings to adapt realistically to what is. Just when Freud was diagnosing the pathologies of the domineering superego, the superego and moral exhortation were i n retreat before the
120
121
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
ego and the cognitive dimension of experience. Realism, not religion, became a guiding light. Even so, despite
what
appears to be the relativistic logic of a democratic market society and a utilitarian culture, not many people were led to distrust the objectivity or reality of their own values. The Progressive era, we might say, wanted to embrace science but did not know how to.
1
The last decades of the nineteenth century and the
first
years of this century saw the emergence of the American university, the proliferation of professional associations, and the beginnings of "scientific management" i n industry and i n city government, but this was not the same as, nor did it produce, a belief i n objectivity. N o t until after W o r l d W a r I , when the w o r t h of the democratic market society was itself radically questioned and its internal logic laid bare, did leaders i n journalism and other fields, like the social sciences, fully experience the doubting and skepticism democracy and the market encouraged. Only then did the ideal of objectivity as consensually validated statements about the w o r l d , predicated on a radical separation of facts and values, arise. I t
JOURNALISM AFTER W O R L D W A R I
freshman at Columbia i n 1931 by President Nicholas M u r r a y Butler. Butler said that only two methods for selecting leaders existed i n the twentieth century: election and dictatorship. As between these systems, Butler went on, dictatorship "appears to bring into authority and power men of far greater intelligence, far stronger character and far more courage than does the system of election."
2
T h i s was not just the cynicism of an isolated antidemocrat. Mussolini was a popular figure i n America i n the twenties and early thirties, his "pragmatism" appealing to both conservatives and liberals disillusioned w i t h democracy and cap8
italism. N o r was it simply the despair of a depression year. Even at the height of prosperity i n the twenties and even, or v
especially, among liberal intellectuals, there was deep pessimism about political democracy. Walter L i p p m a n , i n Public Opinion
(1922), had begun to knock the " p u b l i c " off the
perch that the rhetoric of democracy had built for it. I n The Phantom Public
(1925), he was still more severe and critical
of democratic ideals. " T h e private citizen today," he wrote i n the book's opening sentence, "has come to feel rather like a deaf spectator i n the back row, who ought to keep his mind on
arose, however, not so much as an extension of naive empiri-
the mystery off there, but cannot quite manage to keep
cism and the belief i n facts but as a reaction against skepti-
awake." Public affairs are not the private citizen's affairs:
cism; it was not a straight-line extrapolation but a dialectical
"They are for the most part invisible. They are managed, i f
response to the culture of a democratic market society. I t was
they are managed at a l l , at distant centers, from behind the
not the final expression of a belief i n facts but the assertion of
scenes, by unnamed powers." T h i s did not preface a call to
a method designed for a w o r l d i n which even facts could not
arms, or a plea for Progressive politics. L i p p m a n n observed
be trusted.
that scholars used to write books about voting, but "They are now beginning to write books about nonvoting." T h i s was not the fault of the citizen, not even the fault of a decent political system rightly conceived. I t was, instead, L i p p m a n n argued,
L o s i n g F a i t h i n t h e D e m o c r a t i c M a r k e t Society
the fault of the "unattainable ideal" of citizenship. There is no special wisdom i n the w i l l of the majority. O n the contrary,
Editor James A . Wechsler recalled the early 1930s as a time
wisdom is more likely to lie w i t h insiders, experts i n the
of "democratic despair" and "querulous pessimism about the
practice of governing. Voting is an exceptional procedure
democratic future." H e remembered being addressed as a
123 122
DISCOVERING THE NEWS JOURNALISM AFTER W O R L D W A R I
which enables the public to act only when a problem arises. A problem arises only i f someone objects to current policy— insofar as there is general agreement, the public has no interest i n politics and should have no interest. T h e people do not govern and should not govern; at most, they support or oppose the individuals who do rule. Voting, L i p p m a n n wrote, is:
he diagnosed the problem of modern life as a loss of authority. T h e w o r l d was adrift, no one was i n command. Yet, there was a solution. I n a sense, i t is the same solution L i p p m a n n would offer later—science, but w i t h a difference. I n Drift Mastery
and
scientific thinking is "the twin-brother" of democra-
cy i n politics. "As absolutism falls," L i p p m a n n wrote, "science rises. I t is self-government." L i p p m a n n ended the book
. . . an act of enlistment, an alignment for or against, a mobilization. These are military metaphors, and rightly so, I think, for an election based on the principle of majority rule is historically and practically a sublimated and denatured civil war, a paper mobilization without physical violence.' 1
The Phantom
Public
directed its rhetoric against "demo-
cratic reformers" who placed too much hope i n the public—a body, L i p p m a n n argued, they never adequately defined or understood. Secondarily, the book attacked those cynics who pointed a l l too easily to "what a hash democracy was making of its pretensions to government." According to L i p p m a n n , these critics conclude that the public is uninformed and meddlesome, probably by nature; they fail to see that the main difference between the rulers and the ruled is that between insiders and outsiders, that education for citizenship and education for public office must be, and should be, different. So L i p p m a n n tried to reserve a place i n his analysis for public opinion; he tried to cut a pragmatic middle road between a democratic fantasy and a democratic despair. T h i s expressed some hope for the future. Even so, i n the wake of a century of optimism about democracy, Lippmann's formulation of the problem of the public was dour; he had tempered his o w n confidence by cutting it down to a size which would not excite passion or promise.
Mastery
124
discipline of democracy, an escape from drift, the outlook of a free man."
6
Indeed, i n Drift
and Mastery
L i p p m a n n ex-
pressed his faith that ordinary citizens would make great changes: the consumer was to be a center of power i n politics; trie labor movement and the women's movement were to effect a transvaluation of values. Nothing could be more remote from the L i p p m a n n of Public
Opinion
and The
Phantom
Public. W h e n L i p p m a n n appealed to the idea of science i n the 1920s, he took science to be the governor or throttle on popular w i l l , not the democratic engine itself. Despair about democracy deepened i n the 1930s w i t h the growing strength of dictatorships i n Germany and Italy and the apparent helplessness of American government i n the early thirties to deal w i t h the depression. "Epitaphs for democracy are the fashion of the day," Felix Frankfurter wrote i n 1930, although..he was more hopeful himself.
6
"Representative democracy seems to have ended i n a cul-desac," H a r o l d Laski told readers of the American
Political
Science Review i n 1932; the complacent optimism of just fifty years before had been eclipsed by an "institutional malaise.'"' I t was a far cry from the Progressive Era when, i n 1937, the editors of The New Republic
introduced a series of articles on
"the future of democracy" w i t h the words: " A t no time since
This is all the more striking when one compares L i p p mann's writings of the twenties to his prewar Drift
in an almost millenarian tone: " T h e scientific spirit is the
and
(1914). There, like many others i n the next decades,
the rise of political democracy have its tenets been so seriously 8
challenged as they are today." O l d Progressives found themselves baffled by the complexity of economic and political
125
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
problems of the 1930s. W i l l i a m Allen W h i t e admitted in 1938, " I don't know what is right
JOURNALISM AFTER W O R L D W A R I
ferent for each individual economic unit. In place of enlightenment we have—well, perhaps glands. 11
I ' m not as smart as I
used to think I was." A n d Ray Stannard Baker, i n 1936, said:
Pound's answer to the growing consciousness of the irrational
" O f this I am sure. I cannot settle . . . the tremendous prob-
was to caution against idolatry: " T h e irrational is a fact, not
lems now plaguing the world. Most often I cannot understand. T h e factors are too complex."
fully
9
an ideal. W e must reckon w i t h i t , but we are not bound to exalt i t . " Still, his own affirmation was modest. H e retained
The pessimism about the institutions of democracy and
confidence i n a w o r l d which generally lacked it because, he
capitalism i n the 1930s had roots i n the doubts of the 1920s
said, he was raised i n the nineteenth century, before reason
about the public and human nature, traditional values and
had come into doubt. N o explanation of his own position
received knowledge. T h e spirit of business i n the twenties was
could better indicate that Pound wrote i n a disillusioned time
buoyant, and there was a feeling of liberation i n social science,
and was himself deeply affected by its habit of reducing ideas
the arts, and the social life of the urban Bohemians. But the
to their biographies.
liberation into a new culture marked the r a p i d disintegration
- T h e distrust of reason Pound spoke of took different forms.
of the old, and many serious thinkers began to fear that the
Politically it meant a distrust of the public and a doubt that
new edifices'of the arts and sciences were being raised without foundations.
10
Roscoe Pound, dean of American legal philos-
representative institutions could ever act wisely. W e have seen this already, i n modest expression, i n L i p p m a n n . L i p p m a n n
ophers, felt the uneasiness affecting social thought and social
spoke for a wider and deeper current of thought that began at
life when he addressed Wellesley's graduating class i n 1929.
the end of the nineteenth century w i t h a rash of w r i t i n g on
F r o m the Reformation until the twentieth century, he said,
"crowds" and the behavior of crowds. M a n y of these works
the dominant note i n Western culture was "confidence." But
were antiliberal, attacking the lower orders and even attack-
lack of confidence had overwhelmed the twentieth century.
ing the middle class from an aristocratic point of view: i n
Psychology led us to distrust reason; the distrust of reason led
some of the European literature, electoral crowds, juries, and
us to doubt our political institutions. Science, once the main-
parliaments were linked to crowds and riots as instances of
stay of confidence, "has
mass subjection to prejudice and primitive instinct. Leon
been teaching distrust of itself."
Students today, Pound observed, speak proudly of their disil-
Bramson, i n his study of the political context of sociological
lusionment. N o illusions take them i n , and "frankness" is one
thought, argues that American writings on crowds were not
of their favorite words. Physics, biology, and economics all
antiliberal. American sociologists took the crowd to be a
find complexity and randomness, rather than the simplicity
seedbed of new institutions serving the needs an earlier social
and order they had once believed present i n the world.
order had not met.
12
W h i l e this may be true for academic
History no longer believes i n facts but only i n the subjective
sociology as it developed i n America, the European antiliber-
judgments of historians. Most devastating of all was the
als directly influenced American thinking outside sociology.
distrust of reason psychology had established:
Everett Dean M a r t i n ' s The Behavior
In place of reason we have subconscious wishes, repressed desires, rooted behavior tendencies, habitual predispositions which are dif-
126
of Crowds
(1921)—
which lies outside Bramson's study because it was not written by a professional sociologist—was antiliberal, widely read,
127
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
and cited approvingly by L i p p m a n n i n Public
Opinion
JOURNALISM AFTER W O R L D W A R I
liked to remember it, and the educated middle class itself liked
(1922). L i p p m a n n observed that Gustave LeBon, one of the
banners and spice more than it cared to admit. But at the
leading French antiliberal writers, had been taken up as a
same time i t felt a great need to distinguish itself from the rest
"prophet" by those who were most skeptical i n America about
of the reading public, for it no longer recognized i n "public
the rational operation of popular w i l l . Edward L . Bernays,
opinion" what it took to be its own voice, the voice of reason.
one of the leading figures i n the development
T h e professional
of public
relations i n the 1920s, was influenced by M a r t i n ' s book, by LeBon, and, of course, by L i p p m a n n himself.
classes now took public opinion to be
irrational and therefore something to study, direct, manipu-
18
late, and control. T h e professions developed a proprietary
W h i l e Bramson is right to point out different emphases i n American and European thought, Europeans focusing on "the
attitude toward "reason" and a paternalistic attitude toward the public.
crowd" and Americans on "the public," what seems more
T h e distrust, not so much of reason as of the public's
important here is that i n both Europe and America the
capacity for exercising it, had to do w i t h the sense of the
meaning of " p u b l i c " and "public opinion" changed i n the
middle class that it was surrounded by urban masses and the
same direction i n the early twentieth century. Public opinion,
uneasiness of the white Anglo-Saxon male at the discovery
as W . H . M a c k i n n o n defined it i n 1828, was "that sentiment
that his was no longer so clearly the loudest voice i n the
on any given subject which is entertained by the best i n -
world. I n a remarkable monograph on the history of the
formed, most intelligent and most moral persons i n the
concept "attitude," Donald Fleming observes that the present
community, which is gradually spread and adopted by nearly
usage of the w o r d is relatively new. H e argues that "attitude"
all persons of any education or proper feeling i n a civilized state."
14
I n England, this "public opinion" served as a weap-
on of the middle class i n rising against the aristocracy.
came into general use, as well as scientific use, at the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth
15
Something similar was true i n the United States where "the people," in the early nineteenth century, was a term used to
century, when societies were faced w i t h the task of redefining the human condition to include infants, children, adolescents, mental patients, primitive people, peasants, immigrants, Ne-
16
refer to the middle class. I f , however, public opinion was the
groes, slum dwellers, urban masses, crowds, and, most of all,
voice of the middle class against an aristocracy i n the early
women. Once political society expanded to include more than
nineteenth century, by the early twentieth century, it was
native white males, elites began to modify their sense of what
regarded by the middle class as the voice of some other, large
human nature is. M o s t of the new categories of persons the
mass of persons having no claims to the middle-class perqui-
elites had to reckon w i t h had "often been conceived of as
site of education and middle-class virtue of rationality. Public
passional beings, incapable of sustained rationality." Rather
opinion was' no longer the readership James Gordon Bennett
than attribute rationality to them, social scientists and others
or Horace Greeley or Samuel Bowles addressed i n small,
began to reconceive human nature generally, replacing a term
dense type and long-winded editorials; the public was now the
like "conviction," which stressed human rationality, w i t h
urban masses who liked banner headlines, large drawings and
terms like "attitude" and "opinion," which indicated that
photographs,
human thought and expression m i x reason and passion.
snappy and spicy w r i t i n g . T r u e , the older
journalism had scarcely been as dignified or reasoned as some
128
11
T h i s was a response to the heterogeneous social w o r l d of
129
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
the cities. I n urbanization, historians H . J . Dyos and Michael W o l f f write, "a dominant culture is always faced by new groups of people previously thought of as beneath consideration." Speaking of cities i n Victorian England, they argue that there was a mutual recognition and distancing of the middle class and the working class. T h i s was something distinctively modern, "the capacity for sustained awareness" of other cultures:
they found support from centers of power i n the Eastern cities, too. I n 1916 The New Republic suggested that modern democracy "cannot p e r m i t . . . social ills to be aggravated by excessive immigration." T h e New York Times, as well as the Saturday Evening
Post, praised Madison Grant's influential
racist tract, Passing of the Great Race, i n editorials. Colleges and universities, including Columbia and H a r v a r d , instituted or tightened quotas on Jews.
21
Faith i n democracy was losing out to fears of unreason—
What the Victorian city began to do . . . was to permit this sustained awareness of differences in social conditions to take place. Here, almost for the first time, was some visible prospect of the advancement of whole classes but, more than that, a stirring consciousness among the lower ranks of society of the removable differences in the quality of human life. It was the city which enabled such things to be seen. 18
Of course, the American situation was not identical, but the American city enabled such things to be seen, too. T h e American middle class, at the end of the nineteenth century and increasingly thereafter,
JOURNALISM AFTER W O R L D W A R I
began to move from cities to
suburbs, creating a residential segregation by class which metropolitan areas had never before known. T h e efforts of the affluent to insulate themselves shaped the political geography of the country i n new ways i n the 1920s. I n 1916 there were zoning laws i n only sixteen American municipalities;. by the
and of the presumably unreasoning, the urban masses, the immigrants, the Jews. O f course, there was new hope, the hope of efficiently controlling irrationality. But i f some reformers believed that modeling government and social organizations after the efficient business enterprise was a solution, others were beginning to regard i t as part of the problem. " T h e invasion of the community by the new and relatively impersonal and mechanical modes of combined human behavior," John Dewey wrote, "is the outstanding fact of modern life." Impersonal organizations, not face-to-face
relations,
dominated the age, Dewey observed i n The Public Problems.
and Its
Individuals were counting for less, impersonal
organizations for more. T h e very expansion and intensification of social interaction which had created a " p u b l i c " led also to impersonal controls which made the public's exercise of its 22
end of the twenties, eight hundred were zoned, and 60 percent of the country's urban population lived under zoning regulations.
19
Judge D a v i d C. Westenhaver found no ambiguity i n
the aims of zoning ordinances when he decided against zoning (his decision was overturned) i n the landmark case of Village of Euclid
v. Ambler Realty: " I n the last analysis, the result to
be accomplished is to classify the population and segregate them according to their income and situation i n l i f e . "
20
I n the
same period, Congress approved restrictions on immigration. W h i l e representatives from the South, the West, and r u r a l sections of the country led the fight to restrict immigration,
130
own reason impossible. Democracy was still formally growing; the Progressive
movement had introduced initiative,
referendum, and recall, direct election of Senators, and popular primaries. T h e nineteenth amendment to the Constitution finally
gave women the vote i n 1920. But somehow
the
popular control of government seemed farther away than ever. I n economic as well as i n political life, the public appeared more removed from decision making at exactly the time that, formally, it was more involved. I n The Modern
Corporation
and Private Property (1932), Adolf A . Berle and Gardiner C.
131
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
Means observed that the transfer of the industrial wealth of
JOURNALISM AFTER W O R L D W A R I
nineteenth century, to advising and accommodating it through
the nation from individual ownership to ownership by large
public relations, i n the twentieth century. T h e " p u b l i c " that
corporations meant the divorce of business ownership from
emerged was one of both investors and consumers. I n the first
business control. W i t h information on 144 of the 200 largest
decade of the twentieth century, light industry, retail mer-
corporations i n 1930, Berle and Means found 3 had over
chants, and other businesses increasingly chose to offer public
200,000 stockholders, 71 had 20,000 or more, and 124 had
stock issues to meet their capital needs. A t the same time,
5000 or more. I n most cases the stock owned by management
savings increased, and the consequent availability of funds for
came to just a few percent of the total. The Modern
investment stimulated a general interest i n buying securities.
Corpora-
tion and Private Property is a requiem for the small, indepen-
Investment bankers courted the person w i t h just a thousand
dent capitalist whose ownership of property involved active
dollars or so to invest. T h e firm of Lee, Higginson hired the
control and who derived "spiritual values" from ownership.
first securities .salesman i n 1906 and quickly shifted the bulk
Berle and Means pictured the old-time capitalist extending
of its business from railroad securities to utilities and indus-
his personality through ownership. W h e n wealth was i n land,
trials whose higher interest rates appealed
the owner might use it directly and i t would take on a
investor seeking a quick return. W o r l d W a r I stimulated
subjective value it could not have i n the form of stocks. I n
small investment again as people got used to buying Liberty
stock ownership, the capitalist could make use of his property
bonds. Some firms initially organized to sell war bonds, like
to the small
only through sales i n the market. Actual control of property
Federal Securities Corporation i n Chicago, continued their
had shifted from owners to the "economic autocrats" who
wartime sales techniques to sell other securities after the war.
managed the corporations.
23
I n formal terms, traditional ideals were being enacted:
Federal Securities followed its practice w i t h special departments catering to women and to foreign-born investors.
24
more and more persons entered the market as small, indepen-
There was not only a growing public of investors but a vast
dent "capitalists," just as more and more people were formal-
public of consumers. National corporations, at the end of the
ly able to participate i n politics at the polls. T h e market, like
nineteenth century, used newspapers and magazines to adver-
democracy, was enlarging. Yet, as formal participation ex-
tise directly to consumers. I n the 1920s, installment buying,
panded, substantial control evaporated, and the voice of the
particularly of automobiles, became an important aspect of
small investor could no more be heard above the clatter of
family spending, leading John Dewey to observe that buying
corporate managers than the mutterings of the voting citizen
had become as much a duty i n the corporate society of the
could be heard above the din of administrative imperialism—
twentieth century as thrift had been i n the individualistic
the mayor or city manager taking power from the alderman,
society of the nineteenth.
the president taking control from the Congress.
plied. F a m i l i a r elements of the w o r l d were redefined i n terms
As i n politics and social life, so i n economic affairs,
25
Personal finance companies m u l t i -
of consumption. Children, for instance, once regarded
as
institutions and individuals i n positions of influence reconsi-
modest economic assets, came to be seen as a source of major
dered and reconceived the "public." I n business, corporations
expenses.
began to recognize
America was becoming a "consumer
a public for the first time: businesses
moved from ignoring the public, or damning i t , i n the
132
26
T h e increasing recognition by many people that society"
27
led some
liberal thinkers to urge the reconstruction of American poli-
133
DISCOVERING THE NEWS
JOURNALISM AFTER W O R L D W A R I
28
tics on the ground of a consumers' movement. They were too optimistic, but they were on target i n recognizing the growing importance i n the economy of consumption and its management. Even the rise of the small investor may not have indicated the enlargement of the field of active ownership so much as the consumerization of owning, a pacification of property.
"absolute frankness" for the Pennsylvania Railroad forced other railroads to follow suit. Ivy Lee was the son of a Methodist minister. H e grew up in the South, was educated at Princeton, and i n 1899 began work as a reporter i n N e w York, first for the Journal, the Times,
and
finally
the
World.
then
H e then moved into
publicity work, establishing the firm of Parker and Lee.
Public relations developed i n the early part of the twentieth century as a profession which responded to, and helped shape, the public, newly defined as irrational, not reasoning; spectatorial, not participant; consuming, not productive. T h i s had a far-reaching impact on the ideology and daily social relations of American journalism.
"Accuracy, Authenticity, Interest" was the motto which the partners apparently took seriously. Editor
and
Publisher,
generally hostile to public relations, admitted that Parker and Lee never tried to deceive but sent copy to the press " w i t h the frank statement that i t is i n behalf of the client, and that no money w i l l be paid for its insertion i n the columns of any newspaper."