[To the Editor of the SPECTATOR.] Sur,—As a moribund "
amateur obsessed with the ambition to see himself in print " will you allow me to say a word in support of Mr. Max Pemberton's recent letter to the Spectator? The above sarcasm leaves me unscathed, as I take it that the full-blown journalist must also have this same vulgar ambition or he won't be a success.
I gather from the fierce " Resolution " passed nem. con. by the Institute of Journalists against the uncovenanted and especially against the amateurs, that there is some jealousy, some idea that we are poaching on their preserves.
From my slight experience, having taken a free-lance course as a hobby in a desultory sort of way, I venture to say that the training at the London School of Journalism is excellent. That the advertisement is truthful and there are no over- statements. You soon get to know your own limitations, a useful asset in journalism or in any other walk of life.
If perchance I posted some copy to the School for revision, I was usually cursed and thrown into the waste basket by proxy of some imagined crusty editor in the background. If one called to inquire what the fuss was about, one learnt that the technique or something had gone awry, the instructor was always in the right, one had to try again. This was an excellent training.
This journalism is very like the difficult art of golf ; many of us can hit the ball a good thump off the tee, I can sometimes do it myself, but that is of no use unless you hit it in the right direction ; the same in journalism, you have to hit straight for the editor's eye or he won't catch it.
I once accomplished this feat, wrote on a topical subject of the day about which I thought I had some inside knowledge which even the " Pros " had not got. I did hit the Daily Mail editor, and saw myself in print, and what was the result ? I had a big post from all over the country, some few patted me on the back, others reviled me like a pickpocket. One candid individual wasted three closely written pages of foolscap to tell me that I was a most infernal liar—how dared I mislead the public and sign my name to such trash—I should recant.—I am, Sir, &e., F. DES VOEUX.
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