On this date in 1912, my destiny for a journalism career was set. Although I was two generations from even being born, the Titanic’s tragic sinking started a family path down the road of that proverbial nose for news.
If you remember my “Let’s start at the beginning” page, I mentioned a grandfather who was born in Dallas. His family tree is interesting unto itself, but the only germane fact right now is that when he was 11-years-old, the Titanic sank. So, he skipped school.
It wasn’t an act of empathy. It was purely mercenary.
It was not unusual in those days for kids to leave school — as in dropout – after sixth grade, which is when “grammar” school education ended. My grandfather, one of the most literate and intelligent men I’ve ever known, was from a big family. If the kids wanted something special they had to earn it. He knew his days as a student were coming to an end.
Not many earning opportunities were open to kids, but selling newspapers was a young boys’ job teething ring. The day the Titanic sank, the Morning News put out “extra” editions all day long with each new fact that was being transmitted via telegraph from New York. Remember, these were long before the days of reliable radio news, much less one in homes. Television wasn’t even a recognizable word yet.
In order to keep up with news updates, people bought these extra editions of the paper all day and night. Pappa saw the entrepreneurial opportunity immediately. He ran up and down the streets of downtown Dallas selling out an armload of each edition, then returned to the News for the next issue before heading out again. Over and over.
If this was a novel, the author would give you some sappy ending about how this opportunity led someone to recognize his news talent and he dropped out of school to become an overnight editor. But, I promised to always tell the truth. The reality is that he made so much money that day he was able to buy a used bicycle, which upped his skill set so he could become a Western Union telegram delivery boy.
Okay, I know it isn’t exciting. Therefore, the quick end to this story is that he was very successful at the Western Union, got lots and lots of promotions, traveled with Presidents and retired from there when he was around 60.
However, it was at the Western Union where he met my grandmother. They married, had my Mother, etc., so you can see how this all ties up to be the fact that on this day in 1912, journalism became my amazing fate.
Writes of Passage 
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