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The [Richmond] Times Dispatch printed a locally written poem on their humour page,
usually once a week, for several years at the start of the 20th Century. These poems were
syndicated to other papers across the USA. The poems frequently dealed with being an
author under pressure, and were almost uniformly attributed to "H.S.H." [That's
Henry Sydnor Harrison (1880-1930), author of Queed and V V's eyes.]
Here are two from 1906:
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from The [Richmond] Times Dispatch,
No 17,116 (1906-feb-27), p04
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THE OLD STORY.
If the hero of the novel only knew that ere the end
He would have the villain working as his slave,
And through perils safely wadin', was to win the lovely maiden,
What a lot of needless worry it would save!
If we could take the heroine and whisper in her ear:
"Come, dearie, give the worthy Paul his rights,
For that fascinating stranger means you unsuspected danger" —
Our remarks would save her many sleepless nights.
If the villain could but know that, though he prospered for a while,
He was sure to be a loser in the strife;
If he knew the hero's muscles were invincible at tussles
I am bound to think he'd lead a better life.
If the novelist suspected that his timeworn little tale
Seemed to some of us remarkably like rot,
I opine his cerebellum might bestir his brains and tell 'em
They might well evolve a little newer plot.
Gaslight note: For several years, the newspaper attributed each
of these weekly poems to "H. S. H.", with just a few credited
to other sources. This poem, however, has no attribution.
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from The [Richmond] Times Dispatch,
No 17,055 (1906-jan-02), p04
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Modern Enterprise.
(A Chicago newspaper has commissioned
a correspondent to build an airship and
find the North Pole.)
The circulation manager was feeling pretty blue,
His paper was not selling as he thought it ought to do;
So he told this to the owner, who observed: "Why bless your soul!
Start a scheme to advertise us — say, a sally to the Pole!"
The circulation manager was tickled half to death,
He tittered and he snickered till he ran clean out of breath;
Then he ran and called the manager, who thus addressed his "star":
"Hey, Jim! get ready for a trip," and Jim replied: "I are."
"'Tis well," replied the manager, "and this shall be your trip:
Put on your hat, go forth and build an up-to-date airship;
Engage the best a-eeronaut and speed true to thy goal —
And that? I swear I'd near forgot: Go find the old North Pole!
"Install a wireless telegraph and wire us every day.
Recounting little incidents that happen on the way;
One column daily. S'long, my boy; your hat is on the shelf —
And should your stories not come in, I'll write 'em up myself!"
H. S. H.
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