Free Telling Tales by Melissa Katsoulis Page A

Samuel was determined to enjoy himself as much as possible. But in the back of his mind was the thought of his mother and sister back home, wondering if he would make something of himself like his brother had. Their expectations, coupled with his desire for beer money, led him to hatch a plan which would not only start him off on his writing career but give birth to the man called Mark Twain.
    The two main local newspapers at that time, the
Territorial Enterprise
in Virginia City and the
Evening Bulletin
, were locked in competitive rivalry, each seeking the best stories and the best writers with which to lure a reading public hungry for gossip. In the summer of 1862 Samuel – initially under the pen-name Josh – began writing to the letters page of the
Enterprise
. These letters were amusingly told tales of the doings of local businessmen, socialites, animals and policeman, and it was not long before the paper’s editor saw in him a talent that would enchant his readers and possibly steal a few from the
Bulletin
. ‘Josh’ was duly offered the job of local reporter, and charged with running around town talking to people, drinking with them (not hard for the liquor-loving, sociable younger brother of the more serious Clemens) and writing up what they told him. For this he was to be paid no less than $25 a week which seemed to him a ‘sinful and lavish’ amount.
    After a respectful period of time reporting on the genuine doings of the local community, Twain realized that his colleagues in the newsroom, not least his friend and mentor William Wright (who wrote under the name Dan DeQuille) took a peculiarly relaxed approach to journalistic integrity. The reporting of hard facts, especially on a slow news day, would always come second place to giving the readers what they wanted, which was blood, guts and scandal. Years later, in an autobiographical piece for that very same newspaper, he would unashamedly recall the ‘feats and calamities that we never hesitated about devising when the public needed matters of thrilling slaughter, mutilation and general destruction’.
    Twain would always claim astonishment at the gullibility of his readership, whom he never expected to swallow his tall stories without a pinch of salt. But his naturally playful, anecdotal style, even when reporting something that really happened, probably coaxed his readers into thinking he was just one of those people to whom extraordinary stories seemed to gravitate.
    Perhaps the most famous of his invented news stories, and the one which, knowing the author’s mischievous sense of humour, seems almost impossible to take seriously, was nonetheless taken as gospel by most who opened their paper on the morning of 4 October 1862 to read this report, now under the byline Mark Twain:
    A petrified shah was found some time ago in the mountains south of Gravelly Ford. Every limb and feature of the stone mummy was perfect, not even excepting the left leg, which had evidently been a wooden one during the lifetime of the owner – which lifetime, by the way, came to a close about a century ago, in the opinion of a savant who has examined the defunct.
    The body was in a sitting position, and leaning against a huge mass of droppings; the attitude was pensive, the right thumb rested against the side of the nose; the left thumb partially supported the chin, the forefinger pressing the inner corner of the left eye, and drawing it partly open; the right eye closed, and the fingers of the right hand spread out. This strange freak of nature created a profound sensation in the vicinity, and our informant states that, by request, Judge Sewell at once proceeded to the spot and held an inquest on the body. The verdict was that ‘deceased came to his death from protracted exposure’.
    Can you see what it is yet? This was far from the only story in which Twain slyly thumbed his nose at his readers. Another, under the compelling headline ‘ HORRIBLE AFFAIR ’, was also