Julian Ralph was a New York City reporter from the 1870s –
1890s. He most commonly covered crimes, scandals, fires, and other such
disasters. Ralph was quoted saying that reports must be “born new every morning
to report with new eyes and fresh interest.”
When he was a teenager, Ralph
dropped out of school to be a “printer’s devil” at the New Jersey Standard. He strongly believed that “newspapermen were
born, not made” and, therefore, disliked journalists that were
“college-trained.” When Ralph was nineteen-years-old, he moved to New York City
to become a “big-time” journalist. He began working at the New York World as a copydesk editor.
One of Ralph’s assignments was the
last public whipping of a criminal in Delaware. Ralph felt very negatively
about what he saw and included his opinions in an article that criticized the
practice. The editors took out all of his opinions and left only the pure facts
of the event before publishing it. Ralph was outraged and eventually the New York World published the full
article.
Julian Ralph was sought out by the New York Sun, one of the most
prestigious newspapers in New York at the time. Ralph earned a high salary and
quickly made a reputation for himself. His co-workers knew him as the man that
would go anywhere and do anything for a story. Ralph reported so intensely that
he became a suspect in the murder he was reporting, and got an arson criminal
to confess to the crime. He was known to wear disguises while collecting facts
and rarely ever took notes so as not to tip off his subject.
Ralph became restless at the Sun; he was well known among other
journalists, but relatively anonymous to the public. He was hired by the New York Journal where he was paid top
wages and had his name published next to his headlines. Ralph felt “undercut”
and ended up quitting his job at the Journal
when he found out that other reporters, like Mark Twain, were also given his
assignments.
Ralph returned to New York where he
wrote weekly columns for the Brooklyn
Edge until he died from cancer in 1903.
No comments:
Post a Comment