with me, and put such a job through, and get such a story on the 'Herald' presses without Bennett's getting word of it?"
"Bennett will be crazy for the story," said the editor. "Bennett is a newspaper man."
"Well, you have to show me."
I explained that I was writing another novel, and was not willing to stop, but my friend Mrs. Ella Reeve Bloor, who had represented me with Roosevelt's investigating committee, would do the work. Let the "Herald" send Mrs. Bloor and one of its own reporters, to make sure that Mrs. Bloor played the game straight; and when the investigation was made, I would write an introductory statement, which would lend my name to the articles, and make them as effective as if I had gone to Packingtown myself. But first, before I would trouble Mrs. Bloor, or do anything at all about the matter, the editor must put it before Bennett and show me his written consent to the undertaking. "I am busy," I said. "I don't care to waste my time upon a wild goose chase." The editor agreed that that was reasonable, and took his departure.
James Gordon Bennett, the younger, was the son of the man who had founded the "New York Herald," establishing the sensational, so-called "popular" journalism which Pulitzer and Hearst afterwards took up and carried to extremes. Bennett, the elder, had been a real newspaper man; his son had been a debauché and spendthrift in his youth, and was now in his old age an embittered and cynical invalid, travelling in his yacht from Bermuda to the Riviera, and occasionally resorting to the capitals of Europe for fresh dissipations. He had made his paper the organ of just such men as himself; that is to say, of cosmopolitan café loungers, with one eye on the stock-ticker and the other on their "scotch and soda." And this was the publisher who was to take up a new crusade against the Beef Trust!
But to my surprise, the editor came back with a cablegram from Bennett, bidding him go ahead with the story. So I put the matter before Mrs. Bloor, and she and the "Herald" reporter went out to the Stockyards and spent about two months. Mrs. Bloor disguised herself as a Polish woman, and both she and the reporter obtained jobs in half a dozen different places in the yards. They came back, reporting that conditions were worse than ever; they wrote their story, enough to fill an eight-page Sunday supplement, with numerous photo-
