Word: trib
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...Trib still sees silk-hatted Wall Street bankers lurking around every State Street corner, and redcoats behind every red oak tree. (In 1943, its publisher solemnly told a Detroit audience that after World War I he had helped the U.S. General Staff work out plans to repel an invasion from Canada by 300,000 British regulars.) But even when it is up to no good, Colonel McCormick's xenophobic "World's Greatest Newspaper" is one of the last, anachronistic citadels of muscular personal journalism...
Farm to Market. The Colonel rises at 9 a.m. in his 35-room Georgian mansion (begun by grandfather Joe Medill the year Bertie was born) at Cantigny,* his 1,000-acre farm near Wheaton, Ill. Over a frugal breakfast of coffee and juice, he scans the Trib's fat, one-star final and Marshall Field's skinnier Sun, tearing out clippings. He scribbles swift notes on them and stuffs them into his pocket for delivery to his editors. For an hour he strolls Cantigny's gardens and rolling fields (now mostly idle). He has given up riding...
...McCormick's cavernous, walnut-paneled 24th floor office, guarded by two secretaries and one of the Trib's 45 pistol-packing cops, the daily schedule ticks off with military precision. First come Leon Stolz with his squad of editorial writers, and Carey Orr with his crew of highly skilled cartoonists, to hear the orders of the day. The discussion often goes into luncheon at the 19th floor Overset Club, the executives' dining room...
...reason for his Tribune's success is that McCormick has simply made it indispensable. No paper in all Chicagoland can match its overwhelming coverage of the news. When a big story breaks, the Trib can throw a score of men on it to outreport and outwrite the opposition. In sports, in comics, women's pages, signed columns and display ads it offers all things to all people. It is the housewife's guide, the politician's breakfast food, a bible to hundreds of small-town editorial writers. A classless paper, it is read on the commuter...
Just when the story seemed about to sag, enterprising journalism revived it. Desperate Reporter Desmond and the Chicago Tribune's Norma Browning got a scoop on Mee's moody diaries, by putt-putting out to the yacht in a launch and swiping them. The Daily News and Trib rushed juicy excerpts into print, and the press feverishly tracked down the sexy-looking women that Mee, as a PT boat skipper, had saluted with purple poesy and erotic prose. One (whom he called "Tirana") was a nightclub singer named Lorraine De Wood; the Daily News found her in Milwaukee...