"
Banneker thought it over. "No. That won't do," he decided. "Men that
aren't fools and aren't afraid distrust us and despise the business.
Edmonds, there's nothing wrong, essentially, in furnishing news for the
public. It's part of the spread of truth. It's the handing on of the
light. It's--it's as big a thing as religion, isn't it?"
"Bigger. Religion, seven days a week."
"Well, then--"
"I know, son," said Edmonds gently. "You're thirsting for the clear and
restoring doctrine of journalism. And I'm going to give you hell's own
heresy. You'll come to it anyway, in time." His fierce little pipe
glowed upward upon his knotted brows. "You talk about truth, news: news
and truth as one and the same thing. So they are. But newspapers aren't
after news: not primarily. Can't you see that?"
"No. What are they after?"
"Sensation."
Banneker turned the word over in his mind, evoking confirmation in the
remembered headlines even of the reputable Ledger.
"Sensation," repeated the other. "We've got the speed-up motto in
industry. Our newspaper version of it is 'spice-up.' A conference that
may change the map of Europe will be crowded off any front page any day
by young Mrs. Poultney Masters making a speech in favor of giving girls
night-keys, or of some empty-headed society dame being caught in a
roadhouse with another lady's hubby.
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