MORTHCLIFFE.

Franklin Times, Volume 9, Issue 664, 2 September 1921, Page 5

MORTHCLIFFE.

A NEWSPAPER NAPOLEON IN NEW ZEALAND.

(By “Ben Bolt.”) {Written Specially for 'the Times.)

Ax 15 years of age, Alfred Harmsworth was editing a school magazine mid, in the first number thereof, he wrote:—“ I have it on the best authority that this paper is to be a marked success.” There you have. it. The man and his work summarised in three words: “A marked success.” It

is told of Robert Louis Stevenson thax when quite a little fellow he \woke from childish slumber and callin;.l his mother to his bedside said: 4 T have heard the sound of writing.” One can readily * believe then that young Harmsworth must have heard m his sleep the chimerical croon of presses printing —the rumble ar.d roar of Fleet Street and its

maemnery. Fleet Street! That name, prosaic enough perhaps to the laity, jet to tne journalist stands for the "most romantic thoroughfare in the world. For it is the broad way of adventure wherein the young crusaders of the press have warred for fame and literary distinction. Yet it is “the Street called Straight,” where ideals have been lost and nopes abandoned — where gigantic enterprises have tottered, even to the dust—where many a soidier of the pen has fallen beneath a cross wrought of private distress and public disregard. An ink soaked route that some have followed to failure and oblivion —others to success and opulence! A street that stands symbolical of the scribe and Ins craft. Passing from the schoolhouse, we find Alfred Harmsworth, at the incredible age of 17, the editor of a London weekly catering for youthful readers. He reached his majority as editor of a provincial paper at Coventry. From here, with the first number'of “Answers” in his pocket, he set out on the high road to fame and fortune. His connection with the Evening News, the Daily Mail, and, last but not least, The Times, is a matter of public knowledge. And against each of these, as against every of his other ventures, we can minute the words “K marked success.”' One exception we might have to record. The daily paper that he started “ for ladies only.” In connection with which he naively informs us that al-

though it is said that a woman never knows what; she wants, he’knows that “she knows what she doesn't want," and she didn’t want his paper. His diagnosis of feminine desiderata was at fault. So, abjurring the. unimpres-

sible boudoir, the Daily Mirror went forth, recast and received, as a morning journal, sugared with illustrations for the mass." Then it, too, became “a marked success.” A strong active personality—one who, concerning his career, makes it a rule never to explain or complain—going against the tide with strokes — strong-, vivid, violent, spurred with Iche knowledge that the tide will turn —nothing can stay the course of such a one —no power on earthy can prevent him from reaching his goal. And in Alfred Harmsworth, who, as first Viscount Northcliffe,. is now with us,-we' have a man that in the turbid waters of journalism, has breasted the menacing waves of fierce competition and hostile criticism and, buffeted but not beaten, stands serene *upon the storm-hewn rock of Scrfeecraft. Thus, to-day, we have him in our midst, a honoured and popular guest. fh the Town Hall, Auckland, the other afternoon, I the civic reception to Viscount Northcliffe. The function took place in the crowded concert chamber and in the pre-

sence of representatives from all sections of the community. When the appointed hour came, a little troop walked down the hall towards the g£age. The Mayor, in robe of scarlet, led the way, and immediately behind there foHov/ed a slightly bent, broad shouldered, thick set man, whose head .—aggressive, massive poised, ■ and face —fleshy and heavily jewelled, portrayed features of both the pugilist 2nd the drummer, yet into which a high domed forehead, spellingbreadth, vision and imagination, had lnought something of the poet. His type is the sort that you often see in the navy and the way in which he mounted the platform and took his place in the centre, spoke still further of the quarter-deck. He has the poise of a commander. The Mayor said a few words of welcome and" some platitudes were mou'thed by a Minister of the Crown, looking for all the world like' an early Victoria Tory who had dropped his side-whiskers. Then- the V iscount spoke. He spoke quietly and distinctly but not oratoricaliy. For one of such originality he gave the impression that he had himself well in band and was just saying the things that he should say. Notwithstanding ‘ his speech was tinctured with rhetoric—for instance, when comparing the New Zealand August with that .of England, he referred to the blowing of daffodils with you, but with us the fail of the year. Nevertheless there v/cre touches of humour in it, as when he went on _to say that when, lie saw the daffodils 4 ’ he began to wonder if he had had lunch. He did not speak long, but what he eaid was to the point, and he sat down among an exceedingly friendly 'audience. The usual cheers were ' o-iven him and the last glimpse I had of th® distinguished journalist was hi*, driving away through the glorious spring afternoon in an exquisite Daimler, escorted by z. fleet of cars. This vy°s for a tour of the city and , about as the guest of the New Zealand press,, and 1 noticec. that there rode with the Viscount one .of the Greatest figures’ in overseas lournalr«sm. I refer to Dr. Leys; the eauor Af the Auckland Star. It was toe north 2nd south of British pewsnaperdom, met in appropytate * • position- I though, that one e v 3 * ’ thim* else connected witn me man, hil reception in ' Aflame. ind Men “a marked success.’ SUfeTTJkSVV.LTS i . Tj**a name is wn.ti.ei. »-t B . upon the files of Olympus. A future still more famous awaits.