THE RECOLLECTIONS OF A VETERAN JOURNALIST.

Observer, Volume 2, Issue 48, 13 August 1881, Page 550

THE RECOLLECTIONS OF A VETERAN JOURNALIST.

No. 1. — How I First Met Yogel,

It was some years ago when he was plain Mr Yogel, and what is called a " private or nonMinisterial member of the House of Representatives. But he had already made his mark. He Avas editor of the Otago Dally Times, and his vigor and originality as a leader-writer were recognised by its readers as attested by an enormous increase in its circulation under his literary charge. He had also made some noise in the House, chiefly by the incisive vigor of his attacks on the 'Ministry of the day, his strong, practical views, the force and vigour of his arguments, and his daring originality. At the time I speak of I held the post of sub-editor of one of the leading morning journals of the Colony, which was without an editor, and negotiations had been concluded with Mr Yogel, which led to his being engaged for the position at a high salary. I had never met him, and did not know what he was like. It was my custom on Sunday afternoons to spend an hour or two at the office in preparing "copy" for the printers, who went to .their frames after church hours. We had that much deference for the Sabbath. I was at work one Sunday afternoon as usual, revising the M.S. of the reporters, concocting paragraphs, and clipping from the exchanges, with the aid of the indispensible scissors and gum-pot, when I heard a knock at the outer door, which was locked on the inside. Opening the door I beheld a short, stout gentleman, attired in black, with a Jewish cast of countenance, black beard and moustache, and a quiet self-possessed air. Without a word he entered, threw a rapid glance around the small lobby, and then, as if by instinct, walked or rather twaddled straight into the editorial sanctum, and coolly sat down in the editorial chair. The cool cheek of the thing rather took me aback, but I said nothing, and awaited further developments. Being at that time comparatively young in journalism, I was accustomed to regard the editorial chair with a kind of vague awe and veneration, partly from its associations, and probably also in some degree from recollection of the power that had been wielded by men who had from time to time occupied. I believe I involuntarily attached a sort of inspiration to that piece, of furniture, albeit that it was somewhat ricketty from age, and the severe strain to which it had sometimes been subjected by men of physical as well as intellectual weight. That is a feeling, however, which soon wears oil' with experience. I need not endeavour to analyse it. Perhaps its decay may be attributed in a great measure to the peculiar things one sees done in editorial chairs, to the phases of policy that succeed each other as the manners change with the times, and altered circumstances demand changes of tactics. But I was not very much surprised at the cool conduct of the stranger. It is no unusual thing in newspaper offices for some persons who are on terms of intimacy with the editor to scribble off a note, or a paragraph in his chair, and there are some men in every community Avhose opinion of themselves is so high that they invariably assume the editorial chair on entering the sanctum as if they Avere born for it. Having calmly sun r eyed the dingy apartment, the stranger slowly filled the capacious bowl of his meerschaum pipe, and smoked reflectively leaning back in the chair Avith his eyes bent upAvards towards the ceiling. Then he commenced to write, at first slowly and laboriously, pausing frequently to relight his pipe, to make interlineations, or to meditate. He smoked the whole time, and I noticed that he consumed tAVO pipefuls of the Aveed. He has given up smoking since, with many other venial vices, in deference, I believe, to Mrs Yogel, but at the time of which I Avrite he Avas an inveterate consumer of the nicotian weed. The M.S., whatever it Avas, occupied some hours, and when he had re-read and revised it, he pushed it over to me, remarking, "Put that in tomorroAV." I glanced at the M.S. It Avas a leading article. It Avas almost undecipherable. The characters resembled the confused tracings left by a number of spiders engaged in storming a castle of ink on a field of cream laid foolscap. "Pardon me," said I, " have you arranged Avith Mr for the publication of this article?" The stranger, with the sameimperturbablecalmness, surveyed me for a moment, and then uttered the magic Avords, "I'm Yogel, Julius Yogel, your new editor," and then avc shook hands and exchanged the customary compliments. That article was his first great gun, and it made a deal of noise next day. It Avas the dim foreshadowing of his Public Works and Immigration Policy. A feAV months later he Avas Colonial Treasurer.