, on the other hand, was on the rise in the
early 1900s, embodying the innovative new form of journalism
that was having a great impact on Irish newspapers (Kershner,
2010: 99, 104).
As Kershner comments, “by 1904 [Crawford]
must be aware that the historical and commercial momentum
is now with his former employer” (2010: 104). Aware of this
he may be, yet Crawford makes no attempt to change the
status quo. He neither brings a soul to the nation nor profits
his employer. His alcoholism may result partly from his
frustration over advancement.
A drunken, dissatisfied weathercock, Crawford comforts
himself by revelling memories of past glories. So far as the
editor is concerned, talented journalists existed in bygone days.
He considers Ignatius Gallaher the greatest journalist, who
“made his mark” when “[t]he
New York World
cabled for a
special” on the Phoenix Park murders (Joyce, 1986: 112).
Crawford extols Gallaher’s ingenious device of transforming a
newspaper page into a map of the Invincibles’ decoy and
escape routes: “Gallaher, that was a pressman for you. . . .
That was the smartest piece of journalism ever known” (112);
“That’s press. That’s talent” (113); “Where do you find a
pressman like that now, eh?” (113). An editor himself,
Crawford seems to be oblivious of the fact that he
pressman, liable for smart pieces of journalism. For him, the
past outshines the present: influential nationalist leaders used
to contribute articles to the
(114), but the triumphs of
the paper are long past. Kershner argues that “for all
Crawford’s energetic rhetoric, the
in past practices and the memory of past glories” (2010: 104).
Its own past achievements prevent the
innovating in the new age; past practices have become
The new journalism aimed at, in short, entertaining the public. It was
therefore less serious and more commercialized. For its characteristics and
the innovations the
pioneered, see Kershner (2010: 100-104).