Grady and Howell always ran a lively sporting department. Away back in
the days of bare-knuckle prize fights--such as those between Sullivan
and Ryan, and Sullivan and Kilrain--a "Constitution" reporter was always
at the ringside, no matter where the fight might take place. For a
newspaper in a town of forty or fifty thousand inhabitants, a large
percentage of them colored illiterates, this was real enterprise.

A favorite claim of Grady's was that his reporters were the greatest
"leg artists" in the world. He used to organize walking matches for
reporters, offering large prizes and charging admission. This developed,
in the middle eighties, a general craze for such matches, and resulted
in the holding of many inter-city contests, in which teams, four men to
a side, took part. One of the "Constitution's" champion "leg artists"
was Sam W. Small, now an evangelist and member of the "flying squadron"
of the Anti-Saloon League of America.

The most widely celebrated individual ever connected with the
"Constitution" was Joel Chandler Harris, many of whose "Uncle Remus"
stories--those negro folk tales still supreme in their field--appeared
originally in that paper. In view of Mr. Harris's achievement it is
pleasant to recall that there was paid to him during his life one of the
finest tributes that an author can receive. As with "Mr. Dooley" of our
day, he came, himself, to be affectionately referred to by the name of
the chief character in his works. "Uncle Remus" he was, and "Uncle
Remus" he will always be. Mr. Harris's eldest son, Julian, widely known
as a journalist, is said to have been the little boy to whom "Uncle
Remus" told his tales.

Though there is, as yet, no public monument in Atlanta to Joel Chandler