Now, since I have brought the name of this successful author into this writing, I would like to tell you a little more about him—and his. Ed. Howe was the father of three noted writers. Jim Howe, now living on a ranch in California, was a top overseas correspondent throughout the first World War. Gene Howe is publisher of the Amarillo (Texas) Daily Globe—and a magazine writer. And Mateel Howe-Farnham wrote a book. Before writing her story, “Rebellion,” Mateel’s father advised her to select characters from real life. And this she did. It was said in Atchison that Mateel made her father the main character in her book; that she was a bit rough in her delineation—and that she painted the picture so well that everyone in Atchison knew without further telling. This may be true to a certain extent — but I hardly think a dutiful daughter would have gone the limit in portraying her father uncharitably. Ed Howe was my friend—and I don’t hold with those rumors. Doubtless, Mateel padded, and built her rebellious character into a personage that did not exist. But her “homey” line made the story. It was a big success. Mateel’s “Rebellion” won the $10,000 Bok prize—and become a best seller. Mateel was living in New York City, while her father was in Atchison, Kansas—and thus widely separated they could not compare notes. Ed Howe was asked by Mateel’s publishers to write a foreword to the story. For this he got big pay—I believe the amount he received was fifteen hundred dollars for an equal number of words. I think also that the liberality of the publishers was influenced less by the Sage’s fine wording of his contribution than it was by his veiled admission that he had been flailed rather unmercifully by his daughter. Here, I should maybe pick up a few hanging threads and backstitch a little. My entry into the newspaper field was purely accidental. Being a chum of the junior partner of Clough & Wolfley, who were preparing to launch The Spectator, Theodore Wolfley invited me to stick around — said I might learn something. Mr. Clough, obviously recognizing my need for it, observed “There’s nothing like a newspaper connection to bolster your education.” Major Clough had brought along from Sabetha his foreman, George Fabrick, to get out the first few issues. Then, after Fabrick had gone back to Sabetha, a printer came over from Falls City—but Will Allen played pool most of the time while here. Allen stayed ten weeks, went home for a visit, and failed to come back. Then the “Devil” took over. It was as simple—and raw—as that.