The Newspaper Owner Who Disavowed His Own Editorial
Francis Murphy reads L.S.J. Hunt’s letter to a Seattle crowd, disowning the Post-Intelligencer’s anti-temperance editorial and sending $200 for the cause.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
SEATTLE, Nov. 16.—The freak editorial columns of the Post-Intelligencer were shown up yesterday before a very large audience in Seattle by Francis Murphy, the great temperance orator. The Post-Intelligencer was pretty well laughed at, while its owner was applauded and laughed at too. Mr. Murphy, in the course of his remarks, said: “Now, by accident, entirely, an editorial got into the Post-Intelligencer this morning. Sometimes boys will get into the wrong room, and sometimes boys will get into the wrong bed. That editorial was never intended by the owner of that paper to be written. I couldn’t understand that editorial myself until I got down to where it referred to the blue ribbon, and I flopped right there, for the words stuck in my throat like a fishbone. But here is an editorial that explains the affair. I will read it.”
Mr. Murphy then drew forth a letter and in a clear, loud voice acquainted the audience with its contents. It ran thus:
“YARROW, Nov. 15. FRANCIS MURPHY, DEAR SIR: I have just read the leading editorial of the Post-Intelligencer, headed ‘The Dirty Work of Temperance Reform,’ and, as I construe its meaning, it reflects upon the blue-ribbon cause and your noble work. Owing to my ownership of said paper I fear that it might be deemed this editorial reflects my views. Nothing could be further from the truth. I honor you and am in heart sympathy with the great work in which you are engaged. As an earnest of my interest in the cause I enclose two checks ($100 each), which I beg of you to accept—one to be used for the advancement of your work in this city; the other for yourself. Very respectfully, L. S. J. HUNT.”
“God bless Mr. Hunt,” exclaimed Mr. Murphy, with a smile of joy; “God bless him for me and for the cause we are pleading.”
“That’s the best editorial of the two,” shouted a man in the audience.
“That’s the real editorial,” added the orator.
“God bless Mr. Hunt; God bless him for me and for the cause we are pleading.”
In 1891 a newspaper owner could be publicly held to account by a temperance crusader—and answer with a check. The episode captures an era when the saloon fight was a live civic dividing line, with publishers, preachers, and crowds all performing their allegiances in public. Today’s media owners still face accusations that editorials do or do not reflect their views, though the corrections rarely arrive as two $100 checks.
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