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Updated: May 16, 2025
One day the sub-editor summoned him to the inner room to give him some instructions as to a letter to be written, when the boy much astonished his chief by taking a note of every word, and producing the letter in a few moments in the identical language in which it had been dictated. "You know shorthand, then?" inquired the mild sub-editor. "Yes, sir, a little." "I did not know of this before."
He sits down at his desk and pulls the telephone towards him. Hallo, is that you, Jones? ... Yes, it's me. Just come up a moment. Enter Jones, his favourite sub-editor. He is dressed quite commonly, and is covered with ink. He salutes respectfully as he comes into the room. Jones. Good-afternoon, chief. Smith. Good-afternoon. Have a cigar? Jones. Thank you, chief. Smith.
The debates of the Commons are sometimes important; but only the debates in the Lobby, never the debates in the House. Journalists do control public opinion; but it is not controlled by the arguments they publish it is controlled by the arguments between the editor and sub-editor, which they do not publish. This casualness is our English vice. It is at once casual and secret.
"There is nothing to do until we get to Chichester," said Dangle. "Nothing." "Nothing," said Widgery, and aside in her ear: "You really ate scarcely anything, you know." "Their trains are always late," said Phipps, with his fingers along the edge of his collar. Dangle, you must understand, was a sub-editor and reviewer, and his pride was to be Thomas Plantagenet's intellectual companion.
Burton's life moved for a time among the easy places. The sub-editor of the Piccadilly Gazette, to which he still contributed, voluntarily increased his scale of pay and was insatiable in his demand for copy. Burton moved into pleasant rooms in a sunny corner of an old-fashioned square.
His trust in human nature was restored and the receding wave of scepticism bore off again the image of Esther Ansell. Now to work for Judaism! The sub-editor made his first appearance that day, carolling joyously. "Sampson," said Raphael abruptly, "your salary is raised by a guinea a week." The joyous song died away on little Sampson's lips. His eyeglass dropped.
He is sub-editor to the Politician, the Liberal county paper. I do not suppose Aunt Lilias will let me see him, for she does not like anything that dear mother did. There is a childish obsolete tone of mind here; I suppose it is because they have never lived in London, and the children are all so young of their age, and so rude, Wilfred most especially.
I started as a sub-editor on three pounds a week, correcting the grammar in the copy of men who were getting five times that amount but I can get you a start of sorts, right away. Come around now to the Record office, and I'll introduce you to Dodgson, the editor, a perfectly uninspired person, who ought to have been a grocer's assistant and have sung in a chapel choir.
Telephone or telegraph ought to have broken down, or rain ought to have made play impossible, but no hitch occurred. Mr Myson was proud. Mr Myson defied the Signal to beat his descriptive report. As for the Signal's procession well, Mr Myson and the chief sub-editor of the Daily glanced at each other and smiled.
"We are very indignant," explained Miss Ramsbotham, "because we are not allowed to rush off to Cannon Street and coax an advertisement out of old Jowett, the soap man. We feel sure that if we only put on our best hat, he couldn't possibly refuse us." "No coaxing required," thought the sub-editor.
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