awaited those who won. But it was that latter part that held me
back, that and one other factor: "Those who won," and "What do they
get out of it more than I?"

It is generally conceded that for one woman who succeeds in the
metropolitan newspaper field about ten fail before the vicissitudes
of city life, the orders of managing editors, and the merciless
grind of the big city's working world. And with those who succeed,
what have they more than I? They sign their names to articles; they
receive big salaries; they are famous--as such fame goes. Why is a
signed name to an article necessary, when everyone knows when the
paper comes out that I wrote the article? What does national fame
mean compared with the fact that the local laws of the "Society for
the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals" were not being enforced and
that I wrote stories that remedied this condition?

I began newspaper life as society reporter of a daily paper in a
Middle-Western town of ten thousand inhabitants. That is, I supposed
I was going to be society reporter, but before very long I found
myself doing police assignments, sport, editing telegraph, and
whatever the occasion demanded.

I suppose that the beginnings of everyone's business life always
remain vivid memories. The first morning I reported for work at
seven o'clock. Naturally, no one was in the front office, as the
news department of a small-town newspaper office is sometimes
called. I was embarrassed and nervous, and sat anxiously awaiting
the arrival of the city editor. In five minutes he gave me
sufficient instructions to last a year, but the only one I remember
was, "Ask all the questions you can think of, and don't let anyone
bluff you out of a story."

My first duty, and one that I performed every morning for several
years, was to "make" an early morning train connecting with a large
city, forty miles away. It was no easy task to approach strangers
and ask their names and destination; but it was all good experience,
and it taught me how to approach people and to ask personal
questions without being rude.

During my service as society reporter I learned much, so much that I
am convinced there is no work in the smaller towns better suited to
women. Any girl who is bright and quick, who knows the ethics of
being a lady, can hold this po