Radio Mirror (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

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RADIO MIRROR He felt he had to justify himself, get out of his comfortable rut; but he knew he'd never go if he gave himself time to think and plan. So one night he borrowed ten dollars from a police captain and jumped on the train for Chicago. It might have been an excellent idea if he had stopped to inquire how things were in Chicago — because he landed there, nearly broke, in the middle of a printers' strike which had successfully closed down every paper in town except one called the Socialist World. And all the reporters in Chicago were trying vainly to get jobs on the already overstaffed World. Most men would have wired for some money and gone back to Minneapolis, or at least to some other city. Instead of doing that, Floyd prowled around Chicago streets until he had dug up a story no other reporter had. He wrote it, walked in to the World office, and laid it on the editor's desk. "I know you're overstaffed," he said, "but if you like that story why don't you give me a job? Then I can go out and get better ones." He doesn't even remember what the story was, now, except that it wasn't anything colossal. But the editor did like it, and did give him a job, at slightly less than enough money to live on. BY the time the strike was over the ■* World had reached an unbelievable circulation, and was so broke it couldn't pay its reporters. It had no advertising, and the big circulation ate up paper at such a rate it was losing money hand over fist. On the night the big dailies resumed publication the editor took the entire staff of the World to a neighboring saloon and told them they could have all they wanted to drink. It was the best he could do; he owed them all three weeks' pay, and the little bit of money he had left, while it could provide a glorious brawl, wouldn't have gone far if divided up among twenty men. The funeral obsequies for the Chicago Socialist World ended up toward dawn in Floyd's room on North Clark street — an airless hole with its one window covered by a burlesque theater sign which burned brightly all night. Floyd and his nineteen fellow reporters went to sleep there, mostly on the floor and in the bathtub, although Floyd, as host, got the bed. To add the final touch to a riotous evening, the rent on the room hadn't been paid for three weeks and the twenty men didn't have one cent between them. The big papers, now that they had resumed publication, were busy retrenching, trying to save what the big strike had cost them. They were hiring only the irreducible minimum of reporters necessary to get the news — and those they did hire were the men who had been with them longest before the strike. But, as Floyd says, the thing he has always liked best about reporting is that it is the easiest profession in the world in which to get a job. "Put me down in Albuquerque, New Mexico," he says, "without a dime or any more clothes than those I have on my back — and under a different name, so nobody knows who I am — and I'll bet that within a day I'll have talked to somebody and got a story no other reporter in town has. And on the strength of it, I'll get a job." The technique works — if you're good at it. It has always worked for Floyd, and it worked this time in Chicago. In a few days he had dug up a story that the editor of the Tribune liked well enough to hire the man who wrote it. For some time after he had a steady and fairly profitable job, Floyd continued DO YOU HAVE PIMPLES? BAD SKIN? For Real Beauty — You Must Have Soft Alluring Skin . . Free From Pimples SMOOTH, satiny skin— a radiantly clear, youthful complexion — men admire them and modern style demands them. To be truly lovely, you must rid your skin of ugly pimples on face and body. And thousands are doing it, with complete success. 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