Look in the left ear, just to the left of the flag, on the front page of any edition of The New York Times published since September of 1896 and you'll see "All the News That's Fit to Print," sometimes described as the most famous seven words in U.S. journalism.
That line, of course, often is abbreviated and altered by critics to read "All the News That Fits," but you get the idea.
The latter is the more apt description of the way neighborhood news columns, once a staple in weekly newspapers across the Americas, often were treated. Produced by a stable of correspondents of varying talent, payment usually was by the column inch --- so wise columnists usually tried to write more and their parsimonious editors, sometimes to publish less.
The days of neighborhood correspondents are long past (thinking fondly now of the late Helen Coulson and her dispatches from Bethel), but anyone who enjoys back issues can find many gems within these columns. I've selected just a few examples from the three weeklies published in Chariton on Oct. 28 and 29, 1891, to give you an idea.
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From the column headed "Belinda" in The Democrat of Oct. 29 (the correspondent was "Daisy") we learn that "Making sauerkraut seems to be the order of the day."
There had been sorrow: "Several attended the funeral of Mrs. Edgar McCorkle at Gosport from Belinda. Early last spring Mr. McCorkle went west with her hoping to restore her to health, but that fell destroyer, Consumption, had claimed her. Two weeks ago he brought her back to his parents near Columbia where she died. The family have the sympathy of the neighborhood in their sad bereavement."
But there was a suggestion that that joyful nuptials were nearing for a neighborhood couple: "Perry Bell must mean business; he bought a new heating stove last week." Perry would wed Lora Rooker on Thanksgiving day and they moved into his newly built cottage.
All in all, Daisy concluded, "Splendid weather for picking corn, and there will be many sore fingers soon."
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The unidentified Democrat correspondent from Cedar (later known as Bethel) had a couple of deaths to report: "Aleck Gladsen lost a mule last week. He was driving along when it suddently took sick and died." And then, "Aunt Betsey Hayes was the victim of still death last week; the cause was paralysis. Her remains were interred in the LaGrange cemetery."
The report of the mule's death took precedence over Aunt Betsey's, but that probably was unintentional.
We also learned that, "George Groce of Circleville, Ohio, stopped over to spend a few days with his aunt, Mrs. Harriet Larimer, while on his way to Nebraska for a three months tour for his health. He grew so much worse while here that he returned home."
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Dispatches from Derby were published in The Herald on Oct. 29 under the heading, "Derby Dottings." The unidentified correspondent there was big fan of the temperance movement:
"The Rev. J.N. Hosier delivered a Temperance lecture in the M.E. Church in Derby on last Saturday evening to a large and appreciative audience, handling the subject with ungloved hands and in a masterly manner. Now let all Christian people and those who have the cause of prohibition at heart on the third of next November cast their vote for the men who are in sympathy with, and will legislate for, the better enforcement of the present prohibitory."
The correspondent also had interviewed Dave Westfall, who had planned to take his family south at least for the winter, but got only as far as Kentucky before turning back, appalled at what he'd found in that state:
"David Westfall and family, who started some four or five weeks ago on a trip to Florida, returned home Monday morning, having been as far as Williamstown, Kentucky, where he sold his outfit and returned by train, glad to get back to Iowa. In an interview with Dave on the kind of country there was down there he said he wouldn't live there for anything. He said he never saw as rough a class of people before, most of them were regular toughs, though there were some nice people there, but the rougher element being in the ascendency, the better class had to let them do as they pleased. Then the roads, my! They were like riding over logs laid in the roads, they called them pikes, and it cost five cents a mile to ride over them and 25 cents for every toll-gate, which were placed about every two miles along the way. One place he stopped at, right in front of the post office, a crowd of toughs crowded around the wagon like drones around a queen, and right close to the post office was a saloon, the two prominent buldings in the town. And he further says some of the better class said society was getting worse ever year, and as fast as they could get away the better class were leaving there."
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Finally over at Olmitz in Pleasant Township --- this was not the mining town of Olmitz that came along later but the original Olmitz Post Office north of Zion church and cemetery on the Fluke farm --- the Patriot correspondent reported that, "Mr. John Black is holding a series of singings at Zion church two nights out of the week."
Young men were misbehaving: "Horse racing has been the order of the forepart of the nights among a gang of boys the last few weeks on the public highway. You had better let up while it is time."
And it's not clear exactly what the following was intended to convey: "Oliver Fluke has been running around the last few days with a lump over his eye. Something is the cause. "
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