Office, 7.30 AM.
Thursday.
My child, I w believe you’ll have to be obeyed at last—I don’t see any easy way around it without having your fingers in my hair. And so this at this moment I slash from this morning’s paper everything of mine that is in it. Of course it don’t take ten or twelve hours to write those twenty or thirty pages of MS., dearie, but it [ tak ] takes a deal of time to skim through a large pile of exchanges, because one gets interested every now & then & stops to read a while if the article looks as if it might be a good thing to copy.1 And then one is interrupted a good deal by [visiters]—& there is proof-reading to do, & a great many little things that use up time—but it is an easy, pleasant, delightful situation, & I never liked anything better.2 I am grateful to Mr. Langdon for thinking of Buffalo with his cool head when we couldn’t think of any place but Cleveland with our hot ones. {Before I forget it, tell [him] I got his dispatch yesterday, but of course I never could have needed it, for I think Slee would not dare to write & print articles over his name, and I am particularly sure I wouldn’t.}3 So you see, with all my work I do very little that is visible to the naked eye, & certainly not enough, visible or invisible, to hurt me. I am simply running working late at night in these first days until I get the reporters accustomed & habituated to doing things my way,—after that, a very little watching will keep them up to the mark. I simply want to educate them to modify the adjectives, [ cut curtail] their philosophical reflections & leave out the slang. I have been consulting with the foreman of the news room for two days, & getting him drilled as to how I want the [type-setting] done—& this morning he has got my plan into full operation, & the paper is vastly improved in appearance. I have annihilated all the glaring thunder-&-lightning headings over the telegraphic news & made that department look quiet & respectable.4 Once in two months, hereafter, when anything astounding does happen, a grand display of headings will attract immediate attention to it—but where one uses them every day, they soon cease to have any force. We are not astonished to hear a drunken rowdy swear, because he does it on great & trivial occasions alike—but when we hear a staid clergyman rip out an oath, we know it means something.
My own little darling, I clear forgot to write with a pen—forgive me this time & I will be more careful hereafter—I will, Livy.
Tell Charlie I am a very grateful for his cordial family invitation to come, from the head even unto the tail of it—but I cannot tell, until [to-morrow], whether I can do it or not.5
Your little head is always right, honey. I do find it nearly impossible to keep my newspaper thoughts still on Sunday. But I will try to do better, darling.
I still don’t know whether you get the paper or not—but I know it is sent. I have instructed them to send the [Weekly] to Hattie Lewis, also.
Good bye, my darling Livy, whom I love with all my whole heart, & whose spirit presence is never absent from my thoughts, but is the dear companion of my communings morning, noon & night. Peace & blessings & kisses, little sweetheart.
Sam
[enclosure:] 6
[in ink:] Miss Olivia L. Langdon | Elmira | N. Y. [return address:] if not delivered within 10 days, to be returned to [postmarked:] [buffalo] n. y. aug 19 [docketed by OLL:] 101st
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
The Express occupied the whole of a four story, ramshackle brick building. ... The editorial room was on
the third floor front and the city editor’s room was just above it. Each room was unpainted and
unadorned—except by cobwebs. The only furniture consisted of cheap wooden tables and chairs and a crude row of
bookshelves built against a side wall. In cold weather heat was furnished by old-fashioned coal stoves of the baseburner
type. A long table in the center of the editorial room was the only desk accommodation. Mr. Clemens was a believer in personal comfort while at work. On hot days in particular he cast aside
formalities—and a considerable portion of his clothing as well. At the outset he bought a comfortable lounging
chair with a writing board hinged on to the arm, and it was no infrequent sight during the summer to find him nestled cosily
in that chair, a pipe in his mouth and only a negligee shirt, trousers and socks in evidence as costume. His collar and
shoes would most likely be in a waste basket and his hat, coat and waistcoat wherever they chanced to land when he cast them
off. (Berry)
We learn with sincere gratification that Mr. James [i.e., Jervis] Langdon, of Elmira, has made a
voluntary donation of fifty tons of hard coal to the Buffalo General Hospital. Mr. Langdon is a large dealer in coal and
ships largely to this city. Although he is wealthy and a member of a corporation, he has a soul of his
own and his liberality is not confined to the city in which he resides. This liberal donation so graciously tendered
will gladden the hearts of the inmates of the Hospital as the cold Winter comes, and cause them to bless the giver, and the
citizens of Buffalo will honor the man who has honored the cause of charity in this city. (“A Liberal Gift to the
General Hospital,” 27 Aug 69, 4) (Buffalo Express: “Cheap Coal,” 4 Aug 69, 4;
“Coal,” 12 Aug 69, 4; “The Anthracite Coal Mines,” 20 Aug 69, 2, reprinting the
New York Evening Post, 14 Aug 69, 1.)
Source text(s):
Previous publication:
L3, 303–309; LLMT, 102–4, without the enclosure; MTMF, 102, brief quotation.
Provenance:see Samossoud Collection, p. 586.
Emendations and textual notes:
tak • [‘k’ partly formed]
visiters • [sic]
cut curtail • cutrtail
type-setting • typ type-setting [corrected miswriting]
to-morrow • to-|morrow
Weekly • Weeekly
buffalo • b[uffa]lo [badly inked]