THE PRESS: The Women

Fat-faced, bullnecked, roughshod William L. Ayers, managing editor of the Chicago Journal of Commerce (circ. 24,000), knew the time had come. Draft-stricken, he was going to have to hire women. He was going to have to hire women copyreaders.

No one, least of all his cryptic, cigar-chewing day-side news editor, Sid Forbes, had ever heard of a female copyreader. Forbes did not even like to think of one. The rest of the Journal staff, strong men all, paled. But, game to the core, Ayers hired six female copyreaders: his own secretary, the wife of the Journal’s drama critic, the wife of another Journal employe, a publicity man’s secretary, a trade publication employe, and a likely candidate fresh from Northwestern University’s journalism school.

For about ten days Managing Editor Ayers (see cut, in center background) lectured his charges on the mysteries of copyreading. At the end of the lecture course two dropped out. The M.E. handed the four survivors over to Editor Forbes for slow polishing on the day-desk.

Came a hectic two weeks, but Forbes got through it, turned his semi-finished product over to Night Editor George Bradley, went back to cigar chewing. After two weeks Bradley, a crack copy editor, exploded. “These girls,” he roared to Ayers, “don’t know what I’m talking about when I tell them anything about style, and they have no idea of what’s going on in the world!”

Managing Editor Ayers wanted proof. With Ayers’s assent Bradley then carefully cooked up a fake wire story, in whose every line fantastic misstatements were flatly and plausibly inserted. He had it mimeographed, gave a copy to each of the four girls around the copy desk, told them to edit it and write a head (see below).

After much pencil chewing the four copies came back to Bradley. Heads were on—one copyreader left the “s” out of Chrysler. But not one had questioned the sense or facts of any of the fantasy.

The Journal and two female copyreaders parted company. The other pair hung on, pleading they thought the story was a practice exercise. Last week they joined the others. The Journal copy desk, though depleted, is once more staffed by men.

But William Ayers is not bull-necked for nothing. Says he, keeping out of earshot of Editor Bradley: “I’m going to have that all-girl copy desk yet—the swellest hennery in town. Maybe my approach wasn’t right.”