stamp of his personality could be otherwise than melodramatic?
When we find that criticism against journalism that is at all democratic has always, from the very beginning up to to-day, proceeded from the educated or superior class, it is most logical to assume that there is, and that there will continue to be, natural opposition. The journals of the educated class will never be able to see those of the uneducated class in anything but the most critical light. To a certain extent this is wise, because healthy, sound, vigorous criticism is as necessary for radicalism as reform is necessary for conservatism.
The idea of the School of Journalism came, curiously enough, from a man of the people,—from one of their champions. We have seen how, for almost two hundred years, the attitude of many of the educated and cultured was that this new vocation was not a profession. We have seen them even deny its power, the power that was deciding the questions of the day,—self-evident as that power was.
Pulitzer was the first to recognize the new profession was drawing to it young men of brains and ability who had been trained for some other profession. Aside from the idealism which led to his suggestion and to his bequests founding the new school, there was the desire to eliminate the great waste of time that came through training men to be journalists, who had started out to be something else.
"What is everybody's business," he said once, "is nobody's business—except the journalist's. It is his by adoption. But for his care almost every reform would be stillborn. He holds officials to their duty. He exposes secret schemes of plunder. He promotes every hopeful plan of progress. Without him public opinion
