This is the lead of an ordinary news story—a newspaper report of a fire. The lead begins with "Fire" because the story has no unusual feature—no element in it that is more interesting than the fact that there was a fire. The reporter considers "Fire" the most important part of his story and begins with it. As soon as we read the word "Fire" we ask, "When?"—"Where?"—"What?"—"Why?"—"How?" The reporter answers us in the same sentence with his announcement, "yesterday afternoon"—"at Tenth and Cedar Streets"—"the famous old 'Crow's Nest,' perhaps the best known and oldest landmark in the Second ward"—"unknown origin." How is not worth answering, in this case, beyond the statement that the destruction was practically complete. Thus the reporter has told us his bit of news and answered our most obvious questions about it at the very beginning of his story—in one sentence. According to newspaper rules this is a good lead. The order of the answers will be considered later. For the present we are concerned only with the facts that the lead must contain.

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V

THE SIMPLE FIRE STORY

The simplest news story is the story which has no feature—which has no fact in it more important than the incident which it reports—e.g., the fire at the end of the last chapter. If we recall the various elements of news value we note that any incident may be given greater news value by the presence of some unusual or interesting feature—a great loss of life, an unusual time, a strikingly large loss of property, or simply a well-known name. Such a story is called a story with a feature, because its interest depends not so much on the incident itself as upon the unusual feature within the incident. On the other hand, many news stories do not have features. Many stories are worth printing simply because of the incident which they report, without any unusual feature within them. For example, a building may burn with no loss of life, no great loss of property, and no striking occurrence in connection with the burning. Such a fire is worth reporting, but there is no fact in the story more interesting than the fact that there was a fire; the story has no feature.

The leads of these two kinds of stories are different. When a story has a feature it is customary to play up that feature in the first line of the lead. If the story has no feature, is simply the record of a commonplace event, the lead merely announces the incident and answers the reader's questions about it.

The commonest of featureless stories is the simple fire story in which nothing out of the ordinary happens, no one is killed, no striking rescues take place, and no tremendous amount of property is destroyed. This may be taken as typical of all featureless stories. The reporter, in writing a report of such a fire, merely answers in the lead the questions when, where, what, why, and perhaps how, that the reader asks concerning the fire. The most striking part of the story is that there was a fire; hence the story begins with "Fire." For example:

As one reads down through the rest of the story he finds nothing more striking than the fact that there was a fire. Therefore there is no particular feature. No one was killed; no one was injured; the loss was not extraordinary for a New York fire—nothing in the story is of greater interest than the mere fact that there was a fire. Hence the story begins with the word "Fire." Notice that it does not begin "A fire" or "The fire"—for the simple reason that the word fire does not need an article before it. The editor will also tell you that it is not considered good to begin a story with an article, for the beginning is the most important part of a story and it is foolish to waste that advantageous place on unimportant words.

The first word tells the reader that there has been a fire. He immediately asks where?—what burned?—when?—how much was lost? And the reporter proceeds to answer his questions in their order of importance. The reporter who wrote this story apparently thought that the time was of greatest importance and slipped it in at once—"today." He might just as well have left the time until the end of the sentence because it is not of very great interest. He considers the question "Where" of next importance, and answers with "the top of the six-story warehouse at 393 to 395 Washington Street." The question "what?" he answers with a clause, "used by the United States army as a medical supply store-room for the Department of the East." He does not try to answer the question "why?" because, as the rest of the story tells us, no one knew exactly what caused the fire. And as for the "How?" there is nothing extraordinary in the way that it burned beyond the fact that it burned. Thus, in one sentence, he has answered all four questions about the fire, except a little query concerning the amount of the loss. That he considers worth a separate sentence of details.

This is not a perfect lead. Many editors would consider it faulty, but it illustrates one way of writing the lead of a featureless fire story. Obviously there are faults; for instance, the time is given an undue amount of emphasis and the cause is omitted.

Suppose that we construct another lead from the same story—a lead which would be more in accordance with the logic of newspaper writing. We shall begin with the word "fire," but after it we shall slip in a little mention of the cause since to the reader not directly acquainted with the property that point is always of the greatest importance. Then we shall tell where the fire was and after that what was burned. And last of all we shall give the time since that is of least importance to the average reader. This would be the result:

We might as well have put the what before the where or altered the lead in any other way. But we would always begin with the word "fire" and answer all the questions that the reader might ask—in one short simple sentence. This constitutes our lead. We have told the casual reader what he wants to know about the fire. We give him more details about the fire if he wants to read them, but after we have stated the case clearly in the lead we no longer reckon his time so carefully and allow ourselves some latitude in the telling. After the lead we begin the story from the beginning and tell it in its logical order from start to finish, always bearing in mind that the editor may chop off a paragraph or two at the end.

Hence the second paragraph of the story as it appeared in The Mail begins:

We are back at the beginning now and telling things as they came. The next paragraph of the story tells us how they fought the fire, and the third tells us how they finally brought it under control. The last paragraph of the story reads:

The editor of The Mail had plenty of space that day and saw fit to run this last paragraph, but we should not have lost much had he chopped it off. Perhaps the reporter's copy contained still another paragraph telling about Captain Wolf, but that did not pass the editorial pencil. Even more of the story might have been slashed without depriving us of much of the interesting news.

Judging from the above story a newspaper account is divided into two separate and independent parts: the lead and the detailed account. The lead is written for the casual reader and contains all the necessary facts about the fire; it may stand alone and constitute a story in itself. The detailed account is written for the reader who wants to hear more about the incident, and is written in the logical order of events—with an eye to the danger of the editor's pencil threatening the last paragraphs. In other words, the reporter tells his story briefly in one paragraph and then goes back and tells it all over again in a more detailed way. If the story is of sufficient importance the second telling may not be sufficient and he may go back a third time to the beginning and tell it again with still greater detail—but that is another matter. For the present we shall consider only the lead and the first detailed account.

There are certain other points to be noticed in the report of a featureless fire. Under no condition should it begin with the time. Why? Because, unless the time is of extreme interest, no one cares particularly when the fire occurred. And if the time is of great interest—as, for instance, if a church should burn while the congregation is in it—then the time becomes a feature to be played up and the story is no longer a featureless story. We are now considering stories in which nothing is of greater interest than the mere fact that there was a fire.

The same is true of the location. Who cares what street the fire was on until he knows more about the fire? If the location were of such significant importance as to be played up, the story would no longer be a featureless story.

The paragraphing is also important. Since the lead is in itself a separate part of the story it should always be paragraphed separately. Do not let the beginning of the detailed account lap over into the lead, and do not introduce into the first paragraph any facts which are not absolutely a part of the lead—that is, facts that are absolutely essential to a general knowledge of the fire. When once you begin to tell the story in detail tell it logically and paragraph it logically. Do not tell us that John Smith discovered the fire and that the loss is $500 in the same paragraph. Take up each point separately and treat it fully before you leave it—then begin a new paragraph for the next item.

To take a hypothetical case, suppose that misfortune visits the home of John H. Jones, who lives at 79 Liberty Street. A defective flue sets his house on fire and it burns to the ground. By inquiry we find that the house is worth about $4,000 and is fully insured.

There is nothing particularly striking about the story. We are sorry for Mr. Jones, but many houses worth $4,000 are set on fire by poor chimneys and many more houses burn down. No one was hurt, no one was killed; the most striking part of it all is that there was a fire. We would begin with the word "Fire." Perhaps our readers would be most interested in the cause of the fire and we shall tell them that first. Then we shall tell them what burned, when it burned, and where it stood. There is nothing else that a casual reader would want to know and the lead would read:

Our casual reader is satisfied. For the reader who wishes to know more about the fire we add a paragraph or two of detail. First, we may tell him who discovered the fire; then how the Jones family managed to escape; and after that how the fire was extinguished, and we might slip in a paragraph explaining just what trouble in the chimney made a fire possible. The editor may chop off any number of paragraphs or cut the story down to the lead, and yet our readers will get the facts and know just exactly what was the reason for the fire bell and the red sky at midnight last night.

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VI

THE FEATURE FIRE STORY

A. FEATURES IN ANSWERS TO READER'S CUSTOMARY QUESTIONS

(When, Where, What, How, Why, Who).

Suppose that John Jones's house did not burn in the usual way—suppose that there is some striking incident in the story that makes it different from other fire stories. The story has a feature. Perhaps the answer to some one of the reader's customary questions is more interesting than the answers to the others—so much more interesting that it supersedes even the fact that there was a fire. Then it would be foolish to begin with the mere word "fire" when we have something more interesting to tell. The fire takes a second place and we begin with the interesting fact that supersedes it. For the present we shall consider that this interesting fact is the answer to one of the questions that the reader always asks; for instance, why the house burned or when it burned.

1. Why.—Perhaps Mr. Jones's house was set on fire in a very unusual way. There was a little party in session at the Jones's and some one decided to take a flash-light picture. The flash-light set fire to a lace curtain and before any one could stop it the house was afire. Few fires begin in that way, and our readers would be very interested in hearing about it. The story has a feature in the answer to the reader's Why? And so we would begin our lead in this way:

In this way the feature is played up at the beginning of the sentence, and yet the rest of the reader's questions are answered in the same sentence and he knows a great deal about the fire. Or, leaving Mr. Jones to his fate, we may give another example of an unusual cause taken from a newspaper. This was a big fire, and yet the unusual cause was of greater interest than the fire itself or the amount of property destroyed:

2. Where.—To return to Mr. Jones, there may have been some other incident in the burning of his house aside from the cause that was of exceptional interest. Let us say that his house stood in a part of the town where a fire was to be feared. Perhaps it stood within twenty feet of the new First Congregational Church. The burning of Jones's house would then be insignificant in comparison to the danger to the costly edifice beside it, and our readers would be more interested in an item concerning their church. The answer to Where? is more interesting than the fire itself. Hence we would bury, so to speak, Mr. Jones's misfortune behind the greater danger, and the story would read:

Or:

Turning again to the daily papers, we can find many fire stories in which the location of the burned structure is important enough to take the first line of the lead. Here is one:

3. When.—Sometimes the time of the fire is very interesting. John H. Jones's house may have caught fire from a very insignificant thing and its location may have been unimportant, but the fire may have come at an unusual time. Perhaps Mr. Jones's daughter was being married at a quiet home wedding in her father's house and in the midst of the ceremony the roof of the house burst into flames. The unusual time would be interesting; the answer to When? would be the feature. We might write the lead thus:

Or:

The daily papers furnish many illustrations of fires at unusual times—here is one:

4. What.—(a) The Burned Building.—Many fire stories have their feature in the answer to the reader's What? Not infrequently the building itself is of great importance. Naturally "The residence of John H. Jones" would not make a good beginning, if John Jones is not well known, because people would be more interested in reading about a mere fire than in reading about the residence of John H. Jones, whom they do not know. For it must be remembered that it is the first line that catches the reader's eye and the interest or lack of interest in the first line determines whether or not the story is to be read. Now, suppose that a building that is very well known burns—the City Hall, the Albany State House, the Herald Square Theater—the mere mention of the building will attract the reader's attention. Therefore the reporter begins with the answer to What? the name of the building, as in the following cases:

(b) The Amount of Property Destroyed.—The answer to What burned? is not necessarily a building, for the building itself may not be worth featuring. The contents of the building may be more interesting, especially if the amount of property destroyed can be put in striking terms, such as $2,000,000 worth of property, or two thousand chickens, or fifty-three automobiles, or 7,000 gallons of whisky. These figures printed at the beginning of the first paragraph catch the reader's eye, thus:

5. How.—Very rarely the manner in which a fire burns is quite unique and deserves featuring. It is inconceivable that John Jones's house could burn in any very unusual way—"with many explosions," "with a glare of flames that aroused the whole city," "with vast clouds of oily smoke"—but some fires do burn in some such a way and are interesting only for the way they burned. The following story begins with the answer to How? although the manner might be described more explicitly:

6. Who.—Just as it would be foolish to begin with "the residence of John Jones," since the building is not well known, it would not be advisable to begin with John Jones's name, no matter what part he played. John Jones is not well known and so to the newspaper he is just a man and is treated impersonally regardless of what he does or what happens to him. Our interest in him is entirely impersonal, and all we want to know about him is what he has done or what has happened to him. Therefore few reporters would begin a story with John Jones's name. However, let some man who is well known do or suffer the slightest thing and his name immediately lends interest to the story—and therefore commands first place in the introduction. If John D. Rockefeller should even witness a fire, or if President Taft should be in the slightest way connected with a fire, the mere fire story would shrink into significance behind the name. And so, very often it is advisable to begin a fire story with a name, if the name is of sufficient prominence. It is not necessary that the well-known man's property be destroyed or even endangered for his name to have the first place in the first sentence of the lead; if the well-known man has anything whatever to do with the fire his name should be featured because to the average reader the interest in his name overshadows any interest in the fire. In this example, the name overshadows a striking loss of property and the story begins with the answer to Who?

It will be seen that in each of the above feature fire stories some incident in the fire, or connected with the fire, overshadows the mere fact that there was a fire and makes it advisable to begin the story of the fire with the fact or incident of unusual interest. Furthermore, in each of these stories the unusual feature in the story is a direct answer to one of the reader's questions—when? where? how? what? why? who? In other words, the reporter in answering these questions, as he must in the lead of every story, finds the answer to one question so much more interesting than the answer to any of the other questions that he puts it first. In every fire story, however, the feature is not so easily discovered.

B. FEATURES IN UNEXPECTED ATTENDANT CIRCUMSTANCES

There are other things in the day's fire stories, besides the answers to the reader's questions, that may overshadow the rest of the story and deserve to be featured. Very often there are unexpected attendant circumstances occurring simultaneously with the fire or resulting from the fire to command our interest. Perhaps a number of people are killed or injured; then we want to know about them first, and the reporter neglects to answer our questions for the moment while he tells us the startling attendant circumstances that we had not expected. Even so, while giving first place to the feature, he does not forget our questions but answers them in the same sentence. Hence the introduction of a fire story with significant attendant circumstances begins with the startling fact resulting from the fire and then goes on to answer the reader's questions—in the same sentence.

This is not so difficult as it may sound. Suppose that when John Jones's house burns there is a stiff breeze blowing and the chances are that all the other houses in the block will go with it. All of his neighbors become frightened and work with feverish haste to move their household goods out into the street. In the end the fire department succeeds in confining the fire to Mr. Jones's house and his neighbors promptly carry their chattels back indoors thanking the god of good luck. Now the mere fact that John Jones's house burned down is rather insignificant beside the fact that a dozen families were driven from their homes by the fire. Therefore the reporter would begin thus:

Or to take an incident from the daily press in which the neighbors were not so fortunate; although they might have entirely lost their homes:

1. Death.—(a) Number of Dead.—The most usual attendant circumstances that will come to our notice is death in the fire. Let us say that Mr. Jones's three children were alone in the house and burned to death. Their death would be of more interest to us than the burning of their father's house—and our story would necessarily begin in this way:

So common is death in connection with fire that almost every day's paper contains one or more stories beginning "Ten persons were cremated——" or "Four firemen were killed——" And in every case the loss of human life is considered of greater importance than any other incident in the story, and the number of dead always takes precedence over many another startling feature. Here are a few examples:

(b) List of Dead.—When the number of dead or injured reaches any very significant figure it is customary to make a table of dead and injured. This table is usually set into the story close after the lead, but very often the list is put in a "box" and slipped in above the story. In writing the story, however, the reporter disregards the table and begins his lead as if there were no table: e.g., "Twelve firemen were killed and fourteen injured in a fire——" The list usually gives the name, address (or some other identification), and the nature of the injury, thus:

Or:

(c) Manner of Death.—A number of fatalities at the beginning always attracts attention. Not infrequently the manner or the cause, especially in the case of a single death, is worth the first place in the lead—not as "One man killed——" but as "Crushed beneath a falling wall, a man was killed." If a man burns to death in a very unusual way, or for an unusual reason, we are more interested in the way he was burned, or the reason that he burned, than in the mere fact that he was burned to death. The first line then tells us how or why he was burned. Thus:

2. Injuries.—Very often no one is killed in a fire but some one is injured. For example, five firemen are overcome by ammonia fumes or two men are seriously injured by a falling wall. This then becomes the feature. Injuries to human beings, if serious or in any considerable number, take precedence over other features, just as loss of human life does. Here is an example from the press in which all the injuries are gathered together at the beginning:

3. Rescues.—(a) Number of People Rescued.—When people are rescued from great danger in a fire their escape makes a very good feature. If many of them are rescued or escape very narrowly, the mere number of people saved deserves the first place, as:

(b) Manner of Rescue.—But more often the manner of their escape interests us most. If a man slides down a rope for four stories to escape death by fire we are more interested in how he saved himself than in the fact that he didn't burn, and so we tell how he escaped, in the first line. In the same way, if unusual means are used to save one or more persons, the means of rescue is usually worth featuring. For example:

4. Property Threatened.—Death and injury are the commonest unexpected circumstances in fire stories, but they are not the only ones that may be worth featuring. There is an inconceivable number of things that may happen at a fire and overshadow all interest in the fire itself. A good feature may be found in the property that is threatened. Often the fire in itself is insignificant, but because of a high wind or other circumstances it threatens to spread to neighboring buildings or to devastate a large area. In such a case the amount of property threatened or endangered deserves a place in the very first line, especially if it exceeds the amount of property actually destroyed and if it can be put in a striking way; i. e., the entire waterfront district, or twenty-five dwelling houses, or $5,000,000 worth of property. When contrasted with the small amount of damage actually done, the amount that is threatened becomes more important. Thus:

5. Fire Fighting.—Not unusually a serious fire results from the fact that it was not checked for some reason or other during its earlier stages. Perhaps the whole thing might have been avoided, or, on the contrary, a big fire may be extinguished with unexpected ease or unusual skill. In rare cases this matter of very efficient or very inefficient fire fighting is of sufficient importance to take the first place in the lead. For example:

6. Crowd.—Not uncommonly in the city a tremendous crowd gathers to watch a fire and blocks traffic for hours. In the absence of other significant incidents—death, great loss, etc.—the reporter may begin his story with an account of the crowd present or the blockade of traffic. Such a beginning should always be used only as a last resort when a fire has no other interesting phase, for crowds always gather at fires and only a very serious blocking of traffic is worth reporting. Thus:

7. Miscellaneous.—There is an infinite number of things that may happen at a fire and overshadow the mere fire interest. These are the things that make one fire different from another, and whenever they are of sufficient importance they become the feature to be played up in the first line of the introduction. It would be impossible to enumerate all the unexpected things that might happen during a fire. It is this element of unexpected possibilities that makes the reporting of fires interesting, and an alert reporter is ever on the lookout for a new and unusual development in the fire to be used as the feature of his story. Here are the leads of a few fire stories clipped from the daily newspapers:

C. FIRE STORIES WITH MORE THAN ONE FEATURE

It would appear from the foregoing examples that almost every fire story has a feature. And so it usually has. The great majority of fires that are worth reporting at all have some unusual incident connected with them that overshadows the mere fire itself. Sometimes the features are not of great significance, but it is only as a last resort that a reporter begins his story with "Fire"—only when the most ordinary of fires is to be covered.

Unusual features are so common in connection with fires that very often a single fire has more than one unusual feature. Perhaps the cause of the fire is exceptionally striking and at the same time the amount of property destroyed is of great news value in itself. Or the time and some unexpected attendant circumstance are both worth the first place. In that case the reporter has to choose between the two features and begin with the one that seems to him to be the more striking. The other feature or features may often be arranged in the order of importance immediately after the most striking fact at the beginning, provided that this does not make the lead unduly complicated.

For instance, a cold storage warehouse burns and four firemen are overcome by the fumes from the ammonia pipes. Next door is a hospital and the flames frighten the patients almost into a panic. Either one of these incidents is worth the first line of the story. But which one is of the greater importance? Naturally the element of danger to human life must be considered first and the actual disabling of four firemen is of greater significance than a possible panic in the hospital. Following that line of logic our story would begin:

Such a lead would not be too complicated for practical purposes. But suppose that around the corner from the cold storage warehouse is a livery in which fifty horses are stabled. The flames frighten the horses and they break loose and stampede in the streets. The story now has three features of striking interest. It would be possible to combine them all in the lead and to begin in this way:

But see how far from the beginning the fire, the actual cause of it all, is placed. The fire is buried behind a mass of details and the reader is confused. The lead is not a happy one. The only thing to do is to break up the mass of details and put part of them immediately after the lead. The arrangement is a matter that must be left to the judgment of the reporter.

This, however, is an extreme case because the various features are so disconnected and separate. The reporter would have little trouble if the several features were more alike. For instance, if one of the walls of the building had fallen and killed three firemen the case would have been simpler. The death of these men so far overshadows the other unusual incidents that it drives them out of the lead altogether. For we do not care about horses and frightened patients when men are crushed beneath falling walls. All that we are concerned with in our lead now is the dead and injured—with a feature like this we can trust our readers to go into the story far enough to pick up the other interesting features; we would begin in this way: