The Adventures of a Boy ReporterMorrison, Harry Steele
General
The Adventures of a Boy Reporter
Morrison, Harry Steele
Reporters and reporting -- Juvenile fiction
Archie walked down the street, hardly knowing what to do first. He
didn’t feel like answering any more advertisements in the newspapers,
and he decided to go into a few stores and ask for work. He was about to
do this when he saw before him the magnificent building of the New York
Enterprise. It was a truly beautiful structure, rising fifteen stories
above the ground, and surmounted with an artistic tower, which could be
seen from almost any part of the city. The home of the city’s greatest
daily, it looked as if it were always welcoming strangers to the
metropolis, and Archie felt an irresistible impulse to enter. Everything
connected with a newspaper had for him the greatest fascination, and he
knew he would enjoy seeing through this wonderful building, which was
almost wholly occupied by the departments of the Enterprise. So he
entered the door, and passed from one floor to another, finally arriving
at the highest floor of all, where were located the editorial rooms of
the Evening Enterprise. All at once a new plan entered Archie’s fertile
brain. Why shouldn’t he be able to get something to do on a newspaper?
It had always been his greatest ambition to become a reporter, and here,
although he didn’t think the editor would take him in that capacity, he
thought he might get some sort of work in which he could work himself
up.
There upon the door were the magic words: “Editor of the Evening
enterprise. No Admittance.” Archie opened the door and entered. He knew
it would be useless to send in his name. It was best to see the editor
at once, and without ceremony. He was seated before a large desk,
which was littered with papers of every description, and he was a very
pleasant person in appearance. Archie stood hesitating near the door,
and remained there a minute or two before the editor looked up.
“Well, my boy, what is it?”
Archie took courage.
“I--I want to be a reporter, sir, and I thought it would do no harm to
ask you for such a position, anyhow.”
The distinguished journalist wheeled about in his chair.
“What!” he exclaimed, “you want to be a reporter. Why, my dear boy, how
old are you?”
“I’ll be eighteen my next birthday,” said Archie, “and, sir, I’ve had
some experiences in the last two weeks, which make me feel as if I were
about five years older than I really am. I’ve been through some very
trying experiences, sir.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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