Ever hear of the “dog-watch?” If you have any friends in the newspaper field, they’ll tell you that it is a term used to designate the desk men who remain on the job after the early edition goes to press. They must handle any startling news that might arise, news of sufficient importance to necessitate revamping the front page and setting new material for the late editions, or in cases of extreme emergency, to get out a special extra. To the “dog-watch” I owe much. On that April night I took over the sports desk of the New York _Press_, filling in for Jim Price, the editor. I was there alone. My desk was full of proofs and I was busily engaged in reading them when Alexander Stoddard, who filled in as night editor, interrupted me. Mr. Stoddard that evening was in charge of the news department and he, like me, was sitting in on the “dog-watch” when the biggest news item of the year broke through the Associated Press. The news was carried in envelopes to the city editor every twenty minutes by an Associated Press messenger. It was the last delivered envelope that stirred things around the “Press” building to a pitch of excitement that I’ve never since seen duplicated in my newspaper career. The message carried in that delivery read: “Flash—Titanic Strikes Iceberg in North Atlantic—Report All Safe!” That flash brought about action in our newspaper office that set an all time record. Alex Stoddard, James Scott, chief of the composing room, and I immediately got everything in motion for what was probably the quickest edition ever put out in New York. Our first edition was closed. The paper was about to go to press. The New York _World_, the New York _Herald_, and the New York _Tribune_ all had a half hour earlier edition than _The Press_ so when that flash came through, these papers were already on the street while _The Press_ alone still had a chance to make the news in its first edition. We had the jump on everybody, and Alex Stoddard made the best of it with the speed and cooperation that only experienced newspaper hands can give. The morgue was next to the sports department. Stoddard ordered me to locate a copy of the passenger list of the maiden voyage of the gigantic and magnificent _Titanic_, a list that had been furnished by the Associated Press before sailing time. He called the composing room to acquaint Scott with the big news and Scott, at Stoddard’s command, had page one ripped apart as the paper was about to be put “to sleep.” The superintendent of the press room was told to clear the presses for a quick extra, and all hands were alerted. The Circulation Manager was apprised of the news and he in turn called in all available men in the delivery room, had his wagons lined up for the emergency, collected newsboys from Park Row, then the journalistic center of the city, and the stage was set, so far as the mechanical departments were concerned, for the biggest scoop of the era.