Archive for the ‘Gutenberg’ Category

John Siddall and Family, circa 1902 - 1904
Front Row - Roger and Dudley Siddall, nephews of John Siddall
Second Row - Eugene A. Siddall, Charles J. Siddall, Sarah Orinda Candee Siddall, Mary Beard Siddall, William A. Siddall, Bessie Parker Siddall
Third Row - Nettie Danielson Siddall, John MacAlpine Siddall, George Bennett Siddall, Miranda Colby Siddall, Eugenia Siddall

Siddall descendant Hampton Wilmot, who obligingly sent me the picture above, notes that it was likely taken on a Sunday, as James F. Siddall, the family patriarch and devout Quaker, refused to be photographed on that day.

He also wouldn’t read the Sunday paper; his sons chided him that he had it mixed up, he shouldn’t read the Monday paper which carried the Sunday news.

I’ve now put more of the Siddall genealogy online than I have of my own. It will likely stay that way, as what my mother has discovered about the family tree now fills several large notebooks, and is thus too big of a project to contemplate. Interestingly, we’ve managed the neat trick of being descended both from one of Jefferson Davis’s cabinet makers as well as the head of his Masonic Lodge. Who says the upper and lower classes don’t mix?

Today’s Siddall essay was one of his more popular; Don’t Get Anxious About New York: Let New York Get Anxious About You. Kind of has an eerie “advice to the Red-State voter” ring to it, doesn’t it?

However, it’s exactly the opposite, as Siddall advises all those out in the sticks to stay there if they’ve any reason to fear failure.

Note: For those of you who have managed to get this far, yet happen to be unfamiliar with this series of posts; John Siddall was a minor figure in the muckraking movement of early 20th century journalism–though he managed in one way or another to brush up against most of the major figures in journalism, politics and business of that era. Were a novelist to construct a historical fiction of that time, the central character would almost have to resemble Siddall in some form or another. Through sheer happenstance, I’ve ended up as his biographer. The first post in this (very occasional) series may be found here.

Continue reading ‘Sid Says: Don’t Get Anxious About New York: Let New York Get Anxious About You’ »

Aside from Ida Tarbell, the person who had the most influence on John Siddall’s career was John Sanborn Phillips, the editor of McClure’s magazine during the height of its power and popularity. Phillips (coincidentally, the grandfather of post 9/11 bestselling author Samuel Phillips Huntington) hired Siddall on at McClure’s as a desk editor. The desk editor position at McClure’s was a unique one, functioning for much of the life of the magazine as a kind of testing ground for new talent hired at the magazine. Willa Cather was a desk editor at McClure’s, as were three of the muckraking giants of the era; Ida Tarbell, Ray Stannard Baker, and Lincoln Steffens. Peter Lyons, in his McClure autobiography Success Story, describes the post.

At this time, Miss Tarbell was running the editorial desk.

They were always casual about titles on McClure’s (so long as everybody remembered that S.S. was the Chief) and this post was treated most indifferently of all. Many men and a few women sat at the editorial desk, sometimes grandly styled managing editor, sometimes meanly deprecated as desk editor. It was a post with little authority, although S.S. would often try to make it seem as if whoever filled it could make the lightning to flash and the heavens to rumble. The duties of the desk editor were clear enough: to handle the routine editorial correspondence, dispose of would-be contributors who insisted on calling in person, and be sufficiently alert to recognize any obvious talent that drifted past; to maintain liaison with the London office; and to keep S.S. (and any other editor who happened to be out-of-town) abreast of features and fiction scheduled for future publication. A bright desk editor soon learned that he could easily dump most of this work into Bert Boyden’s lap. Boyden was a cheerful, likeable youngster who had come straight from Harvard to the art department. McClure had been favorably impressed by his knack for keeping everybody happy and had made him the editorial production manager; Boyden had entirely justified McClure’s confidence.

Broadly speaking, however, the abler the man, the briefer his tenure as desk editor. John Finley, for example, stayed only a few months before accepting Woodrow Wilson’s offer of a chair as professor of government at Princeton. After him others had come and gone, and now Miss Tarbell was filling in temporarily. Someone would have to be found at once; Miss Tarbell was too valuable to waste on the editorial desk.

Phillips had for some time had his eye on Lincoln Steffens. Steffens had left The Evening Post to become city editor of The Commercial Advertiser, he had written five or six articles for McClure’s and a few for other magazines, he had acquired a slender reputation. He was about thirty-five, talented and thoroughly aware of it; a banty rooster of a man, who wore a pince-nez, a mustache, and a Vandyke beard. He had a quick, coruscating wit and a quick, calculating eye on the main chance. Phillips considered at length and then wrote Steffens a brisk letter offering him a job as managing editor at ninety dollars a week. “We want you as soon as you can possibly arrange to come,” said Phillips, “the sooner the better; in one week rather than two.”

Steffens accepted the offer but insisted on first taking a long vacation. It was then May: he would come to work in October. So Ray Baker obligingly came east to manage the editorial desk until Steffens should be ready to take over.

Of the three muckrakers above, Steffans was the only one who had a less than positive view of Siddall, perhaps because Siddall filled the position soon after Steffens left it. It’s only human nature to view those that follow after on with a jaundiced eye. I’m saving his opinion for a future Siddall post, however. As thin on the ground as the Siddall pickings are, I wouldn’t make sense to cram them all into one post.

Continue reading ‘Sid Says: Consider Your Ears–They Are Not Purely Decorative’ »

What with one thing and another, I had let slide the series of Sid Says posts that I’d started with such enthusiasm last year. The wife would say that this was nothing more than typical, that I flit from interest to interest like a butterfly from flower to flower, or a fly from one pile of shit to another, more like, never staying with one thing. For two weeks she can’t get me to shut up about the passion du jour, then I never speak of it again.

When I bring up the fact that the blog has been around for over two years now, she accuses me of keeping it alive just to annoy her.

She’s probably more right than she knows.

So, anyway, the pace of the Siddall posts had slackened, though if anyone had asked I would have said it was due more to a lack of available material than dwindling enthusiasm. The only sources left for information on Siddall’s life are in collections of papers located in out-of-state libraries–all of which want me to pay for access. I don’t mind researching John M.–rather like it, in fact, but having to pay for the privilege slows down the process somewhat. It also cut into the sheer enjoyment of it all.

When I first started the series, I had nothing more than a vague feeling that the Siddall essays, and practically everything else over a certain age in my library, should be put on the web–not that they had any great value to me, but because I had the idea that they were bound to have value for someone, somewhere, at some point in time. To me it was a close equivalent to putting a message in a bottle and tossing it out to sea, not because I needed help, but because I wanted some stranger to have the thrill of finding it. Everyone wants to find a message in a bottle, don’t they?

Everyone wants to, but no one expects to. Yet every now and then someone does. The thrill of finding a message in a bottle must be great indeed, but I wonder…Is it really a bigger thrill than knowing that someone has found one of yours?

Thank you very much for your comments and information on John Siddall, my great-great uncle (my grandmother’s uncle, my great-grandfather’s brother). Thanks to you I ordered and now have the best two of the three “Sid Says;” both my 88-year-old mother and I am enjoying his essays. I had made copies from the old American Mag in library stacks of many for my uncle, also a journalist. But the book is priceless. I had not known about the John Reed reference. Thanks again. I must read the Ida Tarbell biographies..have searched some for references.

Some info you might be interested in. John MacAlpine Siddall was the youngest of six brothers (one died as a youngster) born in Oberlin, Ohio, where he did his undergraduate work. His progressive views were certainly influenced by the school and town and his father’s Quaker habits. Family lore believes the Siddalls who moved there in 1857 were involved in the Underground Railroad. When he did the legwork for Ida Tarbell he joined John D. Rockerfeller’s Sunday school class, just to be up close to the guy. He also snuck onto the grounds of the Cleveland mansion to observe and prowl. He is thought to have been aided with some inside information from his brother Ben, who was a highly situated Cleveland lawyer. (again, family lore). Minnie Siddall was his sister-in-law, wife of brother William, a Cleveland dentist. Jean Joiner was his wife. They had no children. When he knew he was dying, sadly so prematurely, he prepared eight months of Sid Says columns for use after his death.

There are relatively few Siddall descendants, but we are very proud of his life and legacy. Thank you for keeping them alive.

Continue reading ‘Sid Says: Good Brains Don’t All Travel The Same Way’ »

I’ve started reading Lee Harris’s Civilization and Its Enemies : The Next Stage of History on the bus rides to and from work each day. It makes a change from Fooling America, that’s for sure.

I was barely five pages in when the itch to start scanning whole pages, then posting them to the web awoke within me.

Fortunately, I’ll not have to risk the ire of the publisher by doing so. Mr Harris has done my work for me.

To put John Siddall in context, I’ve had to learn a lot about the muckraking movement, and the founder of the magazine that began it, S.S. McClure.

On December 31st, 1902, there was no muckracking movement. A month later, there was, though the epithet itself did not exist until Teddy Roosevelt began using it 4 years later. The January 1903* issue of McClure’s contained the third installment of Ida Tarbell’s Standard Oil expose, Lincoln Steffan’s The Shame of Minneapolis, and Ray Stannard Baker’s story on the United Mine Workers. It was, and is still, considered one of the most important issues of a magazine ever published in the U.S.

And McClure knew it.

How many of those who have read through this number of the magazine noticed that it contains three articles on one subject? We did not plan it so; it is a coincidence that the January McClure’s is such an arraignment of American character as should make every one of us stop and think. How many noticed that?

The leading article, “The Shame of Minneapolis,” might have been called “The American Contempt of Law.” That title could well have served for the current chapter of Miss Tarbell’s History of Standard Oil. And it would have fitted perfectly Mr. Baker’s “The Right to Work.” All together, these articles come pretty near showing how universal is this dangerous trait of ours.

Miss Tarbell has our capitalists conspiring among themselves, deliberately, shrewdly, upon legal advice, to break the law so far as it restrained them, and to misuse it to restrain others who were in their way. Mr. Baker shows labor, the ancient enemy of capital, and the chief complainant of the trusts’ unlawful acts, itself committing and excusing crimes. And in “The Shame of Minneapolis” we see the administration o? a city employing criminals to commit crimes for the profit of the elected officials, while the citizens - Americans of good stock and more than average culture, and honest, healthy Scandinavians - stood by complacent and not alarmed.

Capitalists, workingmen, politicians, citizens - all breaking the law, or letting it be broken. Who is left to uphold it? The lawyers? Some of the best lawyers in this country are hired, not to go into court to defend cases, but to advise corporations and business firms how they can get around the law without too great a risk of punishment. The judges? Too many of them so respect the laws that for some “error” or quibble they restore to office and liberty men convicted on evidence overwhelmingly convincing to common sense. The churches? We know of one, an ancient and wealthy establishment, which had to be compelled by a Tammany hold-over health officer to put its tenements in sanitary condition. The colleges? They do not understand.

There is no one left; none but all of us. Capital is learning (with indignation at labor’s unlawful acts) that its rival’s contempt of law is a menace to property. Labor has shrieked the belief that the illegal power of capital is a menace to the worker. These two are drawing together. Last November when a strike was threatened by the yard-men on all the railroads centering in Chicago, the men got together and settled by raising wages, and raising freight rates too. They made the public pay. We all are doing our worst and making the public pay. The public is the people. We forget that we all are the people; that while each of us in his group can shove off on the rest the bill of today, the debt is only postponed; the rest are passing it on back to us. We have to pay in the end, every one of us. And in the end the sum total of the debt will be our liberty.

John Siddall played a important part in the birth of the muckraking movement, though admittedly it is an easily overlooked one. In battle, Generals aren’t much good without a staff to organize things, though the staff gets precious little recognition at the end of the campaign. Staffers are integral, but overlooked.

So it was with Siddall, as this longish passage from the McClure biography, Success Story, illustrates;

The best-grounded, most careful, most substantial, and most devastating contribution made by the muckrakers to the general enlightenment was by Miss Tarbell. Her History of the Standard Oil Company, at first planned as a series of three articles and extended to six on the basis of her preliminary research, reached a total of nineteen before she was done. Few if any serials in American magazine history have had so great an impact on their period.

At the time she was writing, Standard Oil enjoyed almost a complete monopoly. The company refined nearly eighty-five per cent of the country’s crude oil, most of which was still produced in the Oil Regions of Pennsylvania; it owned nearly all the forty thousand miles of pipe lines and carried through them virtually all the crude oil produced; it manufactured more than eighty-six per cent of the country’s illuminating oil; its control over the price of all types of oil was absolute. This monopoly, so cordially detested at the time, so respectfully admired in retrospect, was the more remarkable because the wells it owned produced less than two per cent of the total. Standard Oil’s strangle hold had been applied at the expense of the producers; it was maintained at the expense of the consumers. Most remarkable of all, John D. Rockefeller and his associates had constructed their monopoly in less than twenty years. It was the story of this commercial exploit that Miss Tarbell had undertaken to tell.

She set out to write a balanced study, to be neither apologist nor critic but only dispassionate historian. She conscientiously sought out those Standard Oil officials who would talk to her?notably Henry Rogers, the suave and courtly chairman of the company’s manufacturing committee, and Henry Flagler, who had been one of Rockefeller’s earliest partners?to check the accuracy of her material and to solicit the company’s point of view. She used terms of the highest praise for the company’s “perfection of organization” and for the “ability and daring,” the “extraordinary intelligence and lucidity,” and the “indefatigable energy” of its officers. It was, she wrote, “the most perfect business machine ever devised.”

But in the course of her thorough, painstaking inquiry, Miss Tarbell was bound to form a bias. It was inescapable. Each fact she found?each affidavit, each of the many legislative investigations into the burgeoning monopoly, each of the many judicial proceedings mounted against it?served to deepen her cold contempt for the Standard’s “illegal and iniquitous” policies, for its “huge bulk, blackened by commercial sin,” for its “contemptuous indifference to fair play,” for the “greed [and] unscrupulousness” of its officers. It was the logic of those facts that set her against the Standard and ranged her on the side of the independent producers.

To dig up the facts was not easy, for Rockefeller and his associates had been at pains to conceal their methods. Secrecy was second nature to the officials of Standard Oil. But Miss Tarbell found a valuable research assistant, John Siddall, a short, plump, excitable youngster who was anti-Standard by background, by temperament, and by conviction. Siddall had been born and raised in the bitterly anti-Standard Oil Regions, and when Miss Tarbell hired him he already had the crusader’s zeal, for he had served as secretary of the Board of Education in Mayor Tom Johnson’s reform administration of Cleveland. At Miss Tarbell’s request, Siddall went on the payroll of McClure’s and was later put to work as a desk editor in New York.

McClure was by all accounts a genius, and generous to boot. He was also notoriously… not unstable, exactly, but prone to alternating fits of optimism and despair. We’d be quick to label him a manic-depressive today, I suspect.

But he helped launch or popularize the the careers of hundreds of people–among them Arthur Conan Doyle, Willa Cather, Rudyard Kipling, Theodore Dreiser and Jack London. The list could easily go on. Though the editorial below is ostensibly about Charles Schwab, one can easily picture Siddall reflecting back on his years at McClure’s when he wrote it.

Continue reading ‘Sid Says: You Can Go Farther If You Take Others With You’ »

The wife hates it when I read passages aloud from whatever I happen to be reading, not the least because I do it so often.

So this time, instead of bothering her, I’ll enlighten the Internet with my recycled words of wisdom.

From Peter Lyon’s biography of S.S. McClure, Success Story, which I’m reading as part of my John Siddall research.

Indeed, any editor, to work at his best, must have much of the small boy alive in him, perpetually inquisitive, perpetually fresh-eyed, perpetually naive, perpetually finding all around him new and wonderful. It is a quality that can make a man a bore to his intellectual superiors, and it was bound to make McClure a puzzle or a figure of fun to many (but not all) of the writers with whom he dealt, since their eyes were fixed on different grails. But the best writers always recognize?as they did with McClure?the editor’s precious, if simple-minded, gift; they cherish and protect it even while they permit themselves, every now and again, a private, secret smile.

The point cannot be too much labored, for writers and literary folk generally are prone to confuse the editorial with the critical function. If an editor seem a cut below them in literary spit and polish, if he relish an E. P. Roe or a Gene Stratton-Porter (to confine the examples to those safely dead), then the literary folk grow amused and supercilious, and commence to question the editor’s judgment. They want the editor to be a critic; but if, overnight, he were to become one he should forthwith resign, for the two functions are (or should be) quite distinct. The good critic reads discriminatingly, the good editor catholically. The good critic is gourmet, the good editor gourmand. The one sips and considers and touches his lips with double damask, the other gulps and smacks his lips and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The one is fastidious, the other voracious. And, most significant difference of all, the editor plunks down his money to back up his judgement, but thus far no critic has appeared who is prepared to do the same.

Fascinating stuff, ain’t it?

Dale Carnegie on John Siddall, from The Quick and Easy Way To Effective Speaking

Some years ago I wrote a series of articles for the American Magazine and I had the opportunity of talking with John Siddall, who was then in charge of the Interesting People Department.

‘People are selfish,” he said. “They are interested chiefly in themselves. They are not very much concerned about whether the government should own the railroads; but they do want to know how to get ahead, how to draw more salary, how to keep healthy. If I were editor of this magazine,” he went on, “I would tell them how to take care of their teeth, how to take baths, how to keep cool in summer, how to get a position, how to handle employees, how to buy homes, how to remember, how to avoid grammatical error, and so on. People are always interested in human interest stories, so I would have some rich man tell how he made a million in real estate. I would get prominent bankers and presidents of various corporations to tell the stories of how they battled their ways up from the ranks to power and wealth.”

Shortly after that, Siddall was made editor. The magazine then had a small circulation. Siddall did just what he said he would do. The response? It was over-whelming. The circulation figures climbed up to two hundred thousand, three, four, half a million. Here was something the public wanted. Soon a million people a month were buying it, then a million and a half, finally two million. It did not stop there, but continued to grow for many years. Siddall appealed to the self-interests of his readers.

Continue reading ‘Sid Says: Some Poetry Is Made To Be Heard–Not Heeded’ »

Almost done with the first Tarbell biography–there’s not much more in the way of Siddall nuggets to be had, as she’s already past his death in her memoirs. John Siddall did get married eventually, and he owned a cat. Ida gives the reader the cat’s name, but omits the wife’s.

The Siddalls came often, for in the summer we kept their famous cat “Sammy Siddall.”

I wonder if there wasn’t a slight bit of jealousy there. John had basically been at Ida’s beck and call for almost two decades, and now was under the direction of another female. Not that Ida would admit anything of the sort. She vowed at 14 never to marry, and there is not the slightest hint of a romantic entanglement in her entire autobiography.

I’m also wondering how the Sammy the cat came to be famous. I suspect that the answer, if there is one, is found somewhere in the 8 years back issues of the American Magazine Siddall edited. Given the relative popularity of cat stories on the Internet, I suspect that there has been an audience for such for thousands of years. At some point we’ll realize all of Minoan A is about the cute things Patches did with the mouse today.

Continue reading ‘Sid Says: Strive as We Will–Our Brows Slope Gently Downward’ »

When Ida Tarbell decided she should write a history of the Standard Oil Company, the first thing she decided to do was to hire a researcher

The third young man came, short and plump, his eyes glowing with excitement. He sat on the edge of his chair. As I watched him I had a sudden feeling of alarm lest he should burst out of his clothes. I never had the same feeling about any other individual except Theodore Roosevelt. I once watched the first Roosevelt through a White House musicale when I felt his clothes might not contain him, he was so steamed up, so ready to go, attack anything, anywhere.

The young man gave me his report; but what counted was the way he had gone after his material, his curiosity, his conviction that it was important since I wanted it. I thought I had my man. A few more trials convinced me John M. Siddall was a find. He at that time was an associate of Frank Bray in the editing of The Chautauquan, the headquarters of which had been shifted to Cleveland from Meadville.

When Siddall once understood what I was up to he jumped at the chance?went to work with a will and stayed working with a will until the task was ended. He was a continuous joy as well as a support in my undertaking. Nothing better in the way of letter writing came to the McClure’s office. In time everybody was reading Siddall’s letters to me, whether it was a mere matter of statistics or a matter of the daily life in Cleveland of John D. Rockefeller, the head of the Standard Oil Company. If anything in or around Ohio interested the magazine the office immediately suggested, “Ask Sid.” And Sid always found the answer. Mr. McClure and Mr. Phillips began to say, “We want Sid as soon as you are through with him.” Sid saw the opportunity, and as soon as I could spare him in Ohio he joined the McClure’s staff.

The above was taken from Ida’s autobiography, All In A Days Work, which now sits on my nightstand alongside three other Tarbell biographies. Almost all there is to know about John Siddall is inside them, other than a few letters at the University of Wyoming. From the description of them on the Net, they would appear to be part of the series that Ida mentions above, and thus at least as historically important as any of the other Gutenberg posts. The librarian at the U of W tells me they are on the way.

The muckraker movement was the scion of others, but John Siddall was one of the midwives that birthed it. He’s unknown to history, and to his present day relations, as far as I can tell, but the roots of modern journalism were shaped in part by his research on Standard Oil.

Continue reading ‘Sid Says: This Is A Want Ad For A World-Beater’ »

John Siddall’s first essay as editor of the American Magazine was an appeal for women’s suffrage. He may have a had a personal reason for doing so–a Minnie Siddall from Ohio was an at-large member of the Ohio delegation to the Democratic National convention in 1924. Presumably she was a suffragette nine years before that—would she have had some influence on John’s stance on the question? It’s a rare surname. Give the relative closeness of Toledo, where Minnie hailed from, and Oberlin, where John was born, there would almost have to be some degree of kinship there.

But John would not have needed a suffragette relation to influence his take on the matter. He’d been affiliated with progressive causes for years.

John McAlpin Siddall was hired in 1903 by the muckraking journalist Ida Tarbell as a researcher for her expose on Standard Oil. He was working in Cleveland as an associate editor of The Chataquan magazine at the time, the publication that Tarbell helped to create and had written for 20 years earlier. He remained a prot?g? of hers for the rest of his life, following Tarbell first to McClure’s magazine, then to the American Magazine. With her help he became editor of that magazine in 1915 and remained in that position until 1923, when I suspect he learned of the cancer that would kill him. He died that year.

Ida Tarbell said this about John Siddall in her autobiography, All In The Day’s Work.

“I have never known any one in or out of the profession with his omnivorous curiosity about human beings and their ways. He had enormous admiration for achievement of any sort, the thing done whatever its nature or trend. His interest in humankind was not diluted by any desire to save the world. It included all men. He had a shrewd conviction that putting things down as they are did more to save the world than any crusade. His instincts were entirely healthy and decent. The magazine was bound to be what we call wholesome. Very quickly he put his impress on the new journal, made it a fine commercial success.”

What intrigues me is that Siddall has the air of the lead character in a historical novel, a man who rubs shoulders with the famous but leaves no mark on history of his own. Due to his association with Tarbell, he would have been an intimate of the most famous turn of the century muckrakers, as they were dubbed by Theodore Roosevelt, and his 8 years at American Magazine would have put him in touch with almost an entire generation of American writers. His photo was taken by one of the most famous photographers of his day, Arnold Genthe, and an entire stanza of a poem was devoted to him by John Reed, a notorious radical poet and journalist, a personal friend of Lenin’s, and subject of the 1981 Warren Beatty film Reds.

Comes SIDDALL with a cynic lip up-curled,–
SIDDALL, our dormer window on the World!
Kind-eyed behind his glasses, best of friends,
With the World’s foibles at his finger-ends.
Roars out a jest, and praises with a damn,
And pricks our bubbles with an epigram;
SIDDALL, as sensible as he is keen,–
The high-brow low-brow of the Magazine;
“The SPORTING EDITOR has joined the bunch”
Cries he “Here’s NORRIS, and it’s time for lunch.”

Yes, I know a little bit more about John Siddall today than I did yesterday. But that’s almost everything that is known about him, and none of it is collected into one place. I seem to have become his biographer by default.

Continue reading ‘Sid Says: Let’s Break Away from Granddaddy’ »