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127 pages

English

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pubOne.info present you this new edition. In common with many others who have been with Richard Harding Davis as correspondents, I find it difficult to realize that he has covered his last story and that he will not be seen again with the men who follow the war game, rushing to distant places upon which the spotlight of news interest suddenly centres.

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Histoire

History of Asia

Asia

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	06 novembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819938453
Langue	English

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WITH DAVIS IN VERA CRUZ, BRUSSELS, ANDSALONIKA
In common with many others who have been withRichard Harding Davis as correspondents, I find it difficult torealize that he has covered his last story and that he will not beseen again with the men who follow the war game, rushing to distantplaces upon which the spotlight of news interest suddenlycentres.
It seems a sort of bitter irony that he who hadcovered so many big events of world importance in the past twentyyears should be abruptly torn away in the midst of the greatestevent of them all, while the story is still unfinished and itsoutcome undetermined. If there is a compensating thought, it liesin the reflection that he had a life of almost unparalleledfulness, crowded to the brim, up to the last moment, with thoseexperiences and achievements which he particularly aspired to have.He left while the tide was at its flood, and while he still heldsupreme his place as the best reporter in his country. He escapedthe bitterness of seeing the ebb set in, when the youth to which heclung had slipped away, and when he would have to sit impatient inthe audience, while younger men were in the thick of great,world-stirring dramas on the stage.
This would have been a real tragedy in “Dick”Davis's case, for, while his body would have aged, it is doubtfulif his spirit ever would have lost its youthful freshness or boyishenthusiasm.
It was my privilege to see a good deal of Davis inthe last two years.
He arrived in Vera Cruz among the first of the sixtyor seventy correspondents who flocked to that news centre when thesituation was so full of sensational possibilities. It was a timewhen the American newspaper-reading public was eager for thrills,and the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the correspondents in VeraCruz were tried to the uttermost to supply the demand.
In the face of the fiercest competition it fell toDavis's lot to land the biggest story of those days of markingtime.
The story “broke” when it became known that Davis,Medill McCormick, and Frederick Palmer had gone through the Mexicanlines in an effort to reach Mexico City. Davis and McCormick, withletters to the Brazilian and British ministers, got through andreached the capital on the strength of those letters, but Palmer,having only an American passport, was turned back.
After an ominous silence which furnished Americannewspapers with a lively period of suspense, the two men returnedsafely with wonderful stories of their experiences while underarrest in the hands of the Mexican authorities. McCormick, inrecently speaking of Davis at that time, said that, “as acorrespondent in difficult and dangerous situations, he wasincomparable— cheerful, ingenious, and undiscouraged. When the timecame to choose between safety and leaving his companion he stuck byhis fellow captive even though, as they both said, a firing-squadand a blank wall were by no means a remote possibility. ”
This Mexico City adventure was a spectacularachievement which gave Davis and McCormick a distinction which noother correspondents of all the ambitious and able corps hadmanaged to attain.
Davis usually “hunted” alone. He depended entirelyupon his own ingenuity and wonderful instinct for news situations.He had the energy and enthusiasm of a beginner, with the experienceand training of a veteran. His interest in things remained as keenas though he had not been years at a game which often leaves a manjaded and blase. His acquaintanceship in the American army and navywas wide, and for this reason, as well as for the prestige whichhis fame and position as a national character gave him, he found iteasy to establish valuable connections in the channels from whichnews emanates. And yet, in spite of the fact that he was “on hisown” instead of having a working partnership with other men, he wasgenerous in helping at times when he was able to do so.
Davis was a conspicuous figure in Vera Cruz, as heinevitably had been in all such situations. Wherever he went, hewas pointed out. His distinction of appearance, together with adistinction in dress, which, whether from habit or policy, was avaluable asset in his work, made him a marked man. He dressed andlooked the “war correspondent, ” such a one as he would describe inone of his stories. He fulfilled the popular ideal of what a memberof that fascinating profession should look like. His code of lifeand habits was as fixed as that of the Briton who takes his habitsand customs and games and tea wherever he goes, no matter howbenighted or remote the spot may be.
He was just as loyal to his code as is the Briton.He carried his bath-tub, his immaculate linen, his evening clothes,his war equipment— in which he had the pride of a connoisseur—wherever he went, and, what is more, he had the courage to use theevening clothes at times when their use was conspicuous. He was theonly man who wore a dinner coat in Vera Cruz, and each night, athis particular table in the crowded “Portales, ” at the HotelDiligencia, he was to be seen, as fresh and clean as though he werein a New York or London restaurant.
Each day he was up early to take the train out tothe “gap, ” across which came arrivals from Mexico City. Sometimesa good “story” would come down, as when the long-heralded andlong-expected arrival of Consul Silliman gave a first-page“feature” to all the American papers.
In the afternoon he would play water polo over atthe navy aviation camp, and always at a certain time of the day his“striker” would bring him his horse and for an hour or more hewould ride out along the beach roads within the American lines.After the first few days it was difficult to extract real thrillsfrom the Vera Cruz situation, but we used to ride out to El Tejarwith the cavalry patrol and imagine that we might be fired on atsome point in the long ride through unoccupied territory; or elsego out to the “front, ” at Legarto, where a little American forceoccupied a sun-baked row of freight-cars, surrounded by malarialswamps. From the top of the railroad water-tank, we could lookacross to the Mexican outposts a mile or so away. It was not veryexciting, and what thrills we got lay chiefly in ourimagination.
Before my acquaintanceship with Davis at Vera Cruz Ihad not known him well. Our trails didn't cross while I was inJapan in the Japanese-Russian War, and in the Transvaal I missedhim by a few days, but in Vera Cruz I had many enjoyableopportunities of becoming well acquainted with him.
The privilege was a pleasant one, for it served todispel a preconceived and not an entirely favorable impression ofhis character. For years I had heard stories about Richard HardingDavis— stories which emphasized an egotism and self-assertivenesswhich, if they ever existed, had happily ceased to be obtrusive bythe time I got to know him.
He was a different Davis from the Davis whom I hadexpected to find; and I can imagine no more charming and delightfulcompanion than he was in Vera Cruz. There was no evidence of thosequalities which I feared to find, and his attitude was one ofunfailing kindness, considerateness, and generosity.
In the many talks I had with him, I was alwaysstruck by his evident devotion to a fixed code of personal conduct.In his writings he was the interpreter of chivalrous, well-bredyouth, and his heroes were young, clean-thinking college men,heroic big-game hunters, war correspondents, and idealized menabout town, who always did the noble thing, disdaining the unworthyin act or motive. It seemed to me that he was modelling his ownlife, perhaps unconsciously, after the favored types which hisimagination had created for his stories. In a certain sense he wasliving a life of make-believe, wherein he was the hero of thestory, and in which he was bound by his ideals always to act as hewould have the hero of his story act. It was a quality which onlyone could have who had preserved a fresh youthfulness of outlook inspite of the hardening processes of maturity.
His power of observation was extraordinarily keen,and he not only had the rare gift of sensing the vital elements ofa situation, but also had, to an unrivalled degree, the ability todescribe them vividly. I don't know how many of those men at VerzCruz tried to describe the kaleidoscopic life of the city duringthe American occupation, but I know that Davis's story was far andaway the most faithful and satisfying picture. The story wasphotographic, even to the sounds and smells.
The last I saw of him in Vera Cruz was when, on theUtah, he steamed past the flagship Wyoming, upon which I wasquartered, and started for New York. The Battenberg cup race hadjust been rowed, and the Utah and Florida crews had tied. As theUtah was sailing immediately after the race, there was no time inwhich to row off the tie. So it was decided that the names of bothships should be engraved on the cup, and that the Florida crewshould defend the title against a challenging crew from the BritishAdmiral Craddock's flagship.
By the end of June, the public interest in Vera Cruzhad waned, and the corps of correspondents dwindled until therewere only a few left.
Frederick Palmer and I went up to join Carranza andVilla, and on the 26th of July we were in Monterey waiting to startwith the triumphal march of Carranza's army toward Mexico City.There was no sign of serious trouble abroad. That night ominoustelegrams came, and at ten o'clock on the following morning we wereon a train headed for the States.
Palmer and Davis caught the Lusitania, sailingAugust 4 from New York, and I followed on the Saint Paul, leavingthree days later. On the 17th of August I reached Brussels, and itseemed the most natural thing in the world to find Davis alreadythere. He was at the Palace Hotel, where a number of American andEnglish correspondents were quartered.
Things moved quickly. On the 19th Irvin Cobb, WillIrwin, Arno Dosch, and I were caught between the Belgian and Germanlines in Louvain; our retreat to Brus