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OREGON EXCHANGES ''needs today as it never needed before intelligent leadership. It needs information,—information about everything, particularly itself. It needs above all, in this world of organized propaganda and partisanship,—the truth.''

The truth, that is or should be the big idea. Not only the ability to distinguish between fact and fiction, but the ability to distinguish between what is entirely true and what is half true, between the appearance and the essence, between the spirit and the letter.

And no man, particularly no newspaper man,—can perform a greater service to his community,—and to the world for that matter,—than to spend a lot of time,—all his time, provided he can do so and still meet his weekly pay-roll, in studying the problems of our present and somewhat disordered civilization and giving the public the truth as he sees it, the dangers as he sees them, and directing them toward the right as he sees the right.

I hope that doesn't sound too much like a new code of ethics. There is nothing particularly idealistic or abstruse about it. It is, I think, merely good business, the practical matter of recognizing the responsibility and satisfaction of public service. And you can't do that in thirty minutes a day. It takes study, thought and work. It takes, one might say, a life time.

And so I return to my original contention that the behavior of the Oregon press in the last election demonstrated that editorial responsibility was almost completely lacking, that editorial writing is a declining art, that the highest traditions of journalism as a profession of public service suffered at least a partial eclipse.

And I consider it rather a pity. Now, I don't wish to be misunderstood. There is nothing personal in this. I happened to take a more or less active stand against the Klan, but conditions in Jackson County were different from anywhere else in the state, and I frankly admit I don't believe there is an editor here who in my position would not have abandoned neutrality and come out firmly on one side of the issue, either for or against. With night-riding excursions following in quick succession, a definite uncompromising stand was absolutely imperative.

There comes a time in the experience of every newspaper editor when he must take a deﬁnite, uncompromising stand regardless of the immediate consequences, when he must forget his personal popularity, his subscription list, even his advertising, and with his eye only on one thing,—what he believes to be best for his community,—take oﬁ his coat and go to it, and such a time came in the last election.

And this is where I come to the danger in this tendency to go too far along the line of least resistance. This is an age of publicity. I believe the people are going to demand more and more responsible newspaper leadership, and the editor who refuses to accept that responsibility is going to run an increasing danger of being forced to the rear by the editor who does accept it. I hold no brief for the swashbuckling scribe, nor for the journalistic Don Quixote who is forever attacking windmills and rests under the painful delusion that you can't run a newspaper without trying to run,—and reform—the world. The editor who can do nothing but fight is of little more use than the editor who can do nothing but straddle.

"But I do hold a brief for the editor who believes that he has a duty to the public as well as to himself, who finds some satisfaction in service as well as profits, who doesn't spend all his time trying to find out what is safe or popular or profitable, but spends some time trying to find out what is just and what is right."

More than that,—and here I come to the crux of the whole business.—in my