Mabel Herbert Urner’s serialized accounts of a fictional New York couple began appearing in the Minneapolis Tribune in July 1910. The first piece, “The Disillusionment of the Honeymoon – The Eighth Day,” bore this editor’s note:

 

	Mabel Herbert Urner

This is the first article of a series by Mabel Herbert Urner, the author of “The Journal of a Neglected Wife,” which will show the way disillusionment comes to the bride after marriage. This disillusionment, which begins almost at the altar, will be shown in its various stages during the honeymoon and during the early part of the married life of the average young couple. The other articles of this series will appear on this page in later issues of the paper.

 

The articles appeared in the Tribune once or twice a week for the next four years. The headlines document the stormy relations between an unremittingly cruel husband and his obsequious wife.

HELEN UNWISELY PERSISTS IN ASKING THE SAME QUESTION IN MANY DIFFERENT WAYS – Jan. 13, 1912

HELEN TRIES ON AN EXPENSIVE FRENCH EVENING GOWN AND IS TRANSFORMED – Feb. 2, 1912

WARREN'S MOTHER CALLS AND STRONGLY DISAPPROVES OF HELEN'S ROOMER – March 4, 1912

HELEN WONDERS IF, AFTER ALL, LIFE GIVES HAPPINESS ONLY IN MOMENTS – March 20, 1912

HELEN IS ATHRILL WITH EXCITEMENT AT THE PROSPECT OF A TRIP ABROAD – June 20, 1912

HELEN PACKS HALF THE NIGHT BEFORE THEY SAIL, BUT FORGETS MANY THINGS – June 22, 1912

WARREN LEAVES HELEN ON THE DECK ALONE AND SPENDS HIS TIME IN THE SMOKING ROOM – July 6, 1912

TO HELEN’S DISCOMFORT, WARREN RETURNS THE ENAMEL WARE WITH A CURT LETTER – Dec. 12, 1912

WARREN WANTS THE WINDOWS CLOSED, SO HELEN SLEEPS ON THE FRONT ROOM COUCH – Feb. 26, 1913

 

By the end of the serial’s run in the Minneapolis Tribune in June 1914, the overbearing Warren was still grunting, scowling and snorting, but he had begun to soften a bit, addressing Helen as “dear” and sounding as if he meant it as an endearment. The shift might be attributed to a change in the author’s life: In 1912, Mabel Herbert Urner married Lathrop C. Harper, a collector of rare books and incunabula. Their marriage lasted until Lathrop’s death 38 years later. And the syndicated series, which is said to have been based on the marriage, lasted nearly as long, appearing in more than 100 U.S., Canadian and British newspapers until 1944.

 

This piece, which appeared in the Minneapolis Tribune in March 1914, is representative of the series' early years.

THEIR MARRIED LIFE

It's hard to tell if "disillusionment" was on the minds of these Minnesota newlyweds in about 1912. (Image courtesy of mnhs.org)

Perhaps an experienced exterminator can identify the blood-sucking, kangaroo-like rats described in this Minneapolis Tribune story.

COMPLAIN OF REIGN
OF VAMPIRE RATS

Rattus norvegicus -- known as Mus decumanus in the early 1900s -- also had a taste for poultry. (Image courtesy of Kurt Stueber)

More than a century ago, “all ‘copy’ of every description” passed through the hands of the Minneapolis Tribune’s night editor. It was a critical job in the production of the morning newspaper. But the workload was heavy, the pressure relentless, the technology primitive and the hours abominable. Here’s our third installment of the Tribune’s two-page spread on “TO MAKE A PAPER.”

THE NIGHT EDITOR.

	"THE NIGHT EDITOR AT WORK."

Having assigned the space, the night editor is held responsible for seeing that no department exceeds the space allotted and is made responsible for the issuance of the paper in time for the earliest mail trains and carriers. During the night the night editor must also answer all queries addressed to the managing editor and must often take the responsibility of ordering or declining news of importance. It often happens that when 10 columns have been allotted to telegraph, that something unexpected occurs of so much importance that it is necessary to publish 15 columns of telegraph. The night editor must then revise his schedule and must always keep the printers supplied with copy and at the same time must see that no more copy is sent than will fill the space.

More than a century ago, the managing editor at a “great morning paper like the Tribune” had a great many responsibilities. He spent a few hours each day just opening mail, dictating letters, fending off job applicants and pacifying “cranks,” all without the aid of a BlackBerry. The Tribune explains:

THE MANAGING EDITOR.

	"POPULAR IDEA OF A MANAGING EDITOR."

About 3 o’clock comes the serious work of laying the foundations for the plans for the morning paper. There is a consultation with the city editor, the editorial writers and the heads of departments. It is decided as far as possible which of the many items of news shall be given chief prominence, and the editor in chief is informed of the principal news to be published, that he may direct the proper editorial comment to be made. Then comes an hour or two more of opening mail, dictating of telegrams and letters, the rapid reading of manuscripts and the perfecting of the details of the plans.

	Part of a stereoscopic image of the Tribune building from about 1887. (Photo courtesy mnhs.org)

On the first day of 1889, the Minneapolis Tribune devoted two full pages that explained to readers “how a great morning paper” was made. The lengthy piece includes a lot of chest thumping. But it also features surprisingly amusing and incisive descriptions of the men – and one "editress" – who produced the paper. The business manager is described as “a grasping individual of stern and unbending demeanor.” The editor-in-chief is seen as both a “hard working man of keen and comprehensive intellect” and “a brainless dude who does nothing but draw his salary and smoke expensive cigars in a gorgeously appointed office.” The telegraph editor “can grasp detail and work with rapidity and accuracy.” The reporter is no fool and his “knowledge of human nature is superior.” More than a dozen delightful illustrations break up all that gray type.

I’ll post a few highlights tonight, and add more as time and energy allow. Be warned: A ponderous introduction, typical of the era, takes a while to find its focus. But it’s worth plowing through, if only for historical perspective, plus a detailed description of how many letters – 458,528, to be precise – were used in a single issue of The TRIBUNE. 

TO MAKE A PAPER.

	Horace Greeley

The modern newspaper man will tell you that when Horace Greeley was doing the work of an apprentice in the little newspaper office at East Poultney, Vt., but little was known of journalism as it is seen at the present day. The boy printer strolled into the city of New York one day five years later, and with $10 in his pocket he commenced life as a journalist. His energy succeeded and 40 years later when Horace Greeley laid down his pencil for the last time and passed from among the army of fellow-workers around him, he left behind a monument of his building that told more eloquently than words of the wonderful progress that had been made in four decades in the newspaper world. Fifteen years have passed since Greeley died, and even the great advance that he saw has been eclipsed. The newspaper of today is a marvel. The reader who sits at his breakfast table in the morning and lays before him the reflex of a world’s doings, seldom remarks as to the enterprise, the money and the system that have been required to place it there. An Emperor in another country dies at midnight. At 7 o’clock in the morning the great army of newspaper readers in America know of the fact, and not only that but before them is a picture vividly drawn of the final scenes around and near the death bed. How was it done? The telegraph and cable played their part; but it was the perfect system that has been completed for the transmission and gathering of news that supplied the facts. All over Europe are stationed keen newspaper correspondents, who cooperate with the press bureaus or their newspaper, as the case may be. The general news of the country is gathered by bureaus known as the Associated Press and United Press. They are syndicates of newspapers who employ agents or reporters in every city in the country to gather news and report to the main offices in Chicago and New York, just as the reporter gathers news for a paper, except that nothing is sent that will not be of general interest the country over or in localities. From the general offices the news is sent to papers all over the country who are entitled to it after paying a large sum for the service.

	The "most popular man of all" at a great newspaper was the business manager, whose desk was apparently home to bags of cash.

And what a product the newspaper is! The common eight-page paper that one casts carelessly aside is a book of 250 pages, and made in a night! It costs 5 cents, and is the reading book of the world. Millions scan it every day who never look on other print. In the United States the newspapers are read every year by over 8,000,000,000 people. Its wonderful influence is told in these figures.

[There follows a description of the COUNTING ROOM, “The Business End of the Modern Paper.” We’ll skip straight to the brains of the operation.]

	An editor in chief's gorgeously appointed office.

By the general public, the editor-in-chief is looked upon as a man who reports sermons and prize fights, who only goes to entertainments for the purpose of getting items “to fill his paper with,” who sets the type, edits the telegraph copy, reads proof, makes up the forms and then turns the crank on the press. His partner is supposed to write the advertisements and collect the bills.

[Next up: THE MANAGING EDITOR, THE NIGHT EDITOR and THE CITY EDITOR.]