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Dawn O'Hara, the Girl Who Laughed by Edna Ferber
page 88 of 271 (32%)
never went to school to speak of. He doesn't know was
from were. But he can "see" a story quicker, and farther
and clearer than any newspaper man I ever knew--excepting
Peter Orme.

There is a legend about to the effect that one day
the managing editor, who is Scotch and without a sense of
humor, ordered that Blackie should henceforth be
addressed by his surname of Griffith, as being a more
dignified appellation for the use of fellow reporters,
hangers-on, copy kids, office boys and others about the
big building.

The day after the order was issued the managing
editor summoned a freckled youth and thrust a sheaf of
galley proofs into his hand.

"Take those to Mr. Griffith," he ordered without
looking up.

"T' who?"

"To Mr. Griffith," said the managing editor,
laboriously, and scowling a bit.

The boy took three unwilling steps toward the door.
Then he turned a puzzled face toward the managing editor.

"Say, honest, I ain't never heard of dat guy. He
must be a new one. W'ere'll I find him?"
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