<h3> CHAPTER XVIII <br/><br/> THE NEW YORK DRAFT RIOTS IN 1863—NOTES ON JOURNALISM </h3>
<p>One more battle I saw, known as the Draft
Riots of 1863. I arrived in New York on
the Monday evening, and journeyed south through
the city by the light of the Roman Catholic Orphan
Asylum in flames; a stray negro or two hanging
to a lamp-post here and there. This was the flank
movement of the Rebellion; an attempt not only
to prevent the enforcement of the draft, which
President Lincoln had too long delayed, but to
compel the Unionist forces to return northward
for the defence of their homes. A mad scheme,
yet for near four days New York was in possession
of the mob. I never understood why, since a
couple of good regiments would at any moment
have restored order, as the event showed. For
want of them New York had to defend itself, and
did it rather clumsily, enduring needless disasters
and losses both of property and life.</p>
<p><i>The Tribune</i> office was marked for destruction
but was armed and garrisoned and only once did
the mob effect an entrance. Then they swept
into the counting-house on the ground floor and
<span class="pagenum">{<SPAN id="P162"></SPAN>162}</span>
made a bonfire of such papers as they found.
For a moment there was danger, but the police
came up from the Spruce Street station, the rioters
fled and the fire was put out. Upstairs in the
editorial rooms we knew nothing about it till it
was all over. Afterward a better watch was kept.
Friends of <i>The Tribune</i> volunteered, and there was
no lack of men; nor were the police again careless.</p>
<p>Another rush was stopped by the police in the
square. As I sat at my window looking on the
City Hall I saw this Rebel effort. But the police
broke the solid mass of rioters as cleverly as it
could have been done in Paris, where such matters
are understood better than anywhere else in the
world. Once scattered, these ruffians became easy
victims. The police did not spare them. I not
only saw, but heard. I heard the tap, tap, of the
police clubs on the heads of the fugitives. At each
tap a man went down; and he did not always get
up again. The street was strewn with the slain.</p>
<p>While these incidents were occurring an effort
was made to keep Mr. Greeley away from the office;
partly because he was a man of peace, and we
thought scenes of violence would be unpleasant
to him; partly because he was in danger both in
the office and as he came and went. But he would
listen to no appeal. The post of danger was the
Post of duty, and he stood by the ship. Mr. Greeley's
passion for peace sometimes carried him
far but never showed itself in an ignoble regard
for his personal safety.</p>
<p>Sydney Howard Gay's successor in the
<span class="pagenum">{<SPAN id="P163"></SPAN>163}</span>
managing editorship of <i>The Tribune</i> was
Mr. John Russell Young, who brought with him a new
life and freshness, and something not very far
removed from a genius for journalism: if in the
profession of journalism there be room for genius.
There is room, at any rate, for originality and for
bird's-eye views of things, and for an outlook
upon the world which leaves no important point
uncovered. There is room for courage and for
quickness of perception and for an intuitive
knowledge of what is news and what is not. All these
qualities Mr. Young had. That the end of his
relation with <i>The Tribune</i> was less happy than the
beginning offers no reason, to my mind, for denying
him the tribute which is his due.</p>
<p>It seems hard to believe that in 1866, in the
early summer, the first news of the Austro-Prussian
war came to us in New York by ship. But
so it was. Mr. Young walked into my room one
morning with a slip of paper in his hand from the
news bureau at, I think, Quarantine, announcing
the Prussian declaration of war, June 18th, and
the advance of the Prussian forces. I should
like you to take the first steamer to Europe,
remarked Mr. Young, and walked out again.
It was a Monday. The next steamer was the
Cunarder <i>China</i>, from Boston to Liverpool via
Queenstown, on the Wednesday. I sailed accordingly,
and on reaching Queenstown was met by a
telegram announcing the Austrian defeat at Sadowa,
or, as the Prussians prefer to call it, Königgrätz,
July 3rd. The war was over. There were other
<span class="pagenum">{<SPAN id="P164"></SPAN>164}</span>
military operations, but an armistice was agreed
to July 22nd, and the preliminaries of peace were
signed at Nikolsburg, July 26th.</p>
<p>On the following day, July 27th, 1866, the laying
of the new Atlantic cable, the first by which
messages from the public were transmitted, was
successfully completed by the <i>Great Eastern</i>, and on
the 28th a friendly message from the Queen was
sent to the President of the United States. The
President was Mr. Andrew Johnson, and it took
him two days to reply. It would have made a
difference to us in America if the war news of May
and June could have reached us by cable. Even
such grave events as Austria's demand for the
demobilization of the Prussian Army, so far
back as April, and the proceedings in the Federal
Diet at Frankfort in June, made no great
impression on American opinion. I suppose we were
already in that state of patriotic isolation when
events in Europe seemed to us like events in an
ancient world. The Austro-Prussian conflict was
not much more to masses of Americans than
the Peloponnesian War. Nor, in truth, did news
from abroad by mail ever present itself with the
suddenness and authority it derived from the
cable. It came by mail in masses. It came by
cable with the peremptory brevity which arrested
attention. The home telegraph was diffuse. It
was the cable which first taught us to condense.
A dispatch from London was not, in the
beginning, much more than a flash of lightning;
and went into print as it came, without being
<span class="pagenum">{<SPAN id="P165"></SPAN>165}</span>
"written up"; and was ten times the more
effective.</p>
<p>I had gone on from London to Berlin, and it
was in Berlin that the news came of a break in
the peace negotiations and the sudden arrest of
the homeward march of the Prussian troops which
had begun August 1st. I sent a dispatch to <i>The
Tribune</i> announcing this, and hinting at the renewal
of hostilities as a possible consequence. The
news came from a source which was a guarantee
of its truth; and true it was. But the diplomatic
difficulty was soon adjusted and again the
Prussian columns flowed steadily northward. This
message, which for the moment was sufficiently
startling, was, I think, the first news dispatch
which went by cable. It ran to near one hundred
words, and the cost of it was just short of £100,
or $500. The rate from London to New York
was then twenty shillings a word. We wasted no
words at that price.</p>
<p>Mr. Weaver was then manager of the Anglo-American
Telegraph Company, a man who thought
it good policy to coerce the public. He
understood much about cable business; not much about
human nature. He considered himself, and for
the time being he was, at the head of a monopoly.
People who desired to send messages by cable to
America must do so upon his terms or not at all.
It never seemed to occur to him that there might
be such a thing as a prohibitory rate, or that a
business could not be developed to the greatest
advantage by driving away customers. He was
<span class="pagenum">{<SPAN id="P166"></SPAN>166}</span>
quite happy if he could wring an extra sovereign
from the sender. He thought it a good stroke
to compel each sender of a message to add the
word "London" to his signature. It was
another twenty shillings in the treasury of the
company.</p>
<p>Mr. Weaver enacted many vexatious restrictive
laws the discredit of which fell in great measure
upon Mr. Cyrus Field and other directors of the
Anglo-American Telegraph Company. It was
Mr. Weaver's business to make rules. It was the
business of the public to obey them. At that
time there was between the public and the
Anglo-American company no direct intercourse. We
were obliged to hand in our messages over the
counter of one of the two inland telegraph
companies, which between them had a monopoly;
the British and Magnetic and the Electric.
Mr. Weaver sat in solitary state in Telegraph Street.
You approached his office as you would approach
a shrine; a temple of some far-off deity. During
the next few years I had often to discuss matters
with Mr. Weaver, whose regulations embarrassed
and delayed Press messages. He was opposed to
all concessions to the Press. He framed a code
under which Press messages at a reduced rate were
dealt with as he chose. He would give us no
assurance as to when he would begin or when
complete the transmission of such messages. He
would interrupt the transmission of them in a
purely arbitrary way, so that the first half
of a message might reach New York for next
<span class="pagenum">{<SPAN id="P167"></SPAN>167}</span>
morning's paper and the last half for the day
after.</p>
<p>At last there came a crisis. I had filed an
account of the Oxford-Harvard four-oared race
from Putney to Mortlake, a column and a half
long, in good time for next day's <i>Tribune</i>. It
did not appear till the day following. I had gone
with it myself to the City, and handed in my
dispatch over the counter of the British and
Magnetic office in Threadneedle Street. The office of
the Anglo-American was but two minutes distant.
My inquiries about the delay were met with civil
evasions. The Anglo- people said they sent on
the dispatch as soon as they got it. The British
and Magnetic people said it had been forwarded
to the Anglo- "in the ordinary course of business." Under
that specious phrase lurked the mischief.
It came out after much pressure that, in the
ordinary course of business and by a rule of the
Magnetic Company, every dispatch for the cable must
be copied before it was sent on to the Anglo-.
The staff in attendance when I committed my
message to the Magnetic consisted of a boy at
the counter. It was his duty to copy the dispatch
when not otherwise engaged. He completed his
copy early the next morning. This was finally
admitted. I then saw Mr. Weaver and put all I
had to say into two sentences. First, the delayed
dispatch would not be paid for, since it was the
Anglo- which made itself responsible for the delay
by refusing to receive the message direct from the
sender. Second, unless this rule was abolished
<span class="pagenum">{<SPAN id="P168"></SPAN>168}</span>
I would notify <i>The Tribune</i> that it was useless
to forward messages from London, and advise the
editor to direct their discontinuance.</p>
<p>Then came a curious thing. Mr. Weaver
having reflected on this ultimatum for some thirty
seconds, said:</p>
<p>"Mr. Smalley, I will agree to your proposal on
one condition—that you tell nobody you are
allowed to hand in your messages to us. We do
not intend to alter our rule. We make an
exception in your case."</p>
<p>I do not suppose Mr. Weaver was aware that
he was giving me a great advantage or that he
meant to give it. But, although the copying
regulation of the Magnetic was abolished, direct
access to the Anglo- was a great security and a
great saving of precious time. It was to mean in
the following year of 1870 that dispatches could be
sent through to New York as filed, and in time for
the regular morning issue, which otherwise would
have arrived, in whole or in part, late. It was
one among several causes to which was due the
success of <i>The Tribune</i> in the early months of the
Franco-German War. The fact did not become
known in the world of journalism till some time
in the late autumn of 1870. In February, 1870,
the British Government had taken over the inland
telegraphs, and with them the duty of receiving
transatlantic dispatches. The Government could
have enforced the old rule had it chosen, but it did
not choose. The executive officer of the Post
Office was Mr. Scudamore, secretary to the
<span class="pagenum">{<SPAN id="P169"></SPAN>169}</span>
Postmaster-General, who had no good-will to the
Press and none to me. Probably he knew nothing
about the matter. But since 1870 the cable offices
have all been thrown open, or special offices opened
for the receipt of messages, and you may now file
cable messages for America in any Post Office or
any cable office. The English postal telegraph
service is wonderfully good—far better than any
telegraph service in America—but I should never
file a Press message in a postal office if within
reach of a cable office.</p>
<p>All this is highly technical and I suppose of no
interest to anybody but journalists and telegraph
managers. But there are other experiences which
I hope may be found worth reading by a less select
audience.</p>
<p><br/><br/><br/></p>
<p><SPAN id="chap19"></SPAN></p>
<p><span class="pagenum">{<SPAN id="P170"></SPAN>170}</span></p>
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