18923 Other Journalists 



of the human type known as "the man about town/' 

 and possessed of a gift of sarcasm nearly as biting 

 as that of his colleague. Toward the last the two 

 fell out. McEwen then published a review of his 

 one-time friend so accurately vitriolic that it was 

 held to avenge all the latter' s many victims. 



In quite a different journalistic class were George Fitch 

 H. Fitch of the Chronicle and Bailey Millard of the 

 Examiner. Fitch, a serious, scholarly man of high 

 ability, I had known at Cornell, where he had taken 

 one of my botany courses. For many years city 

 editor of the Chronicle, he also had charge of its 

 literary pages; his book reviews and general dis- 

 cussions were always sound, often inspiring. 



Genial Bailey Millard, long absent from the 

 Coast, returned not long ago to edit for a time the 

 Bulletin, one of San Francisco's evening sheets. 

 When I first met him, he was a keen and kindly 

 young fellow, beloved of all who came within the 

 range of his personal acquaintance, and full of plans 

 and expedients. Sometime in the early part of the A gnat 

 century, while in New York as editor of Hearst's ccasion 

 Cosmopolitan, he conceived the novel idea of giving a 

 dinner for three men whom he regarded in some degree 

 as sages or prophets Edwin Markham, Hamlin Gar- 

 land, and myself with a stenographer to take down 

 the conversation as it proceeded. But, as I remember, 

 not one of us said a single smart thing, though both 

 Markham and Garland had shown themselves amply 

 capable of rising to form. When the material was 

 ready for the magazine, Hearst ran his eye over the 

 copy. "Cut out that stuff, nobody cares for it," 

 was his comment. 



John McNaught, editor of the San Francisco 



