WILLIAM A. WILKINS.
A country newspaper rarely makes its mark in the journalistic world, and especially a paper printed in such an obscure village as is Whitehall, New York. The Whitehall Times, however, is one of the few exceptions, and, although a country newspaper, has been quoted in every paper of any note in the land.
William Albert Wilkins, the editor and proprietor of the Times, and the one man who has made that journal famous, was born on the 26th day of March, 1840, in the village of Cherry Valley, Otsego county, New York. At the age of ten he removed with his parents to Cohoes, in the same State, where he attended a common district school for several years. He entered business as office boy in the village post-office. From this position he was elevated to a travelling salesman, doing business for a firm in Albany. A year later, however, he settled down to real life as a retail clothing merchant at Whitehall. In this pursuit Wilkins was quite successful, and for eleven years he continued in the business.
Wilkins says that the first important discovery of his life was when he embarked in the printing business. “Then,” says he, “it was easier to convince nine-tenths of the human family that the inhabitants of the infernal regions employ their time skating on real ice ponds, than it is to convince them that they cannot conduct a live newspaper. While a merchant in the town of Whitehall, Mr. Wilkins began writing—along in the fall of 1869—several humorous communications for the Weekly Times, the very paper which he afterwards owned. His articles were signed “Hiram Green, esquire, Lait justiss of the Peece.” His sketches were bright and original, and after doing all he could to supply the crusty Whitehallites with humor, he began a series of letters in the Troy Budget, which he continued for several years.
In 1870 what appeared as his guiding star shone over his horizon. A new comic weekly paper had just been introduced to the residents of New York. It was known as Punchinello, and its publisher made William Albert Wilkins, of Whitehall, a handsome offer to assume the editorial chair. Wilkins was not long in making a decision whether to accept the offer or no. In an evil moment he bade good-bye to the clothing business and hied himself to New York. His salary and the paper ended their existence in five months’ time, andthe Whitehall merchant was cast adrift in the great metropolis. He remained in New York and was employed with a leading wholesale clothing house until April, 1873. During his sojourn in the city he wrote regularly for the Tribune, Sun, and Mail, as well as doing occasional work for the Brooklyn Eagle, Albany Argus, and several of the many weekly journals published in Gotham.
In the early May days of 1874 Wilkins returned to Whitehall, and his first love, the Times, became his property. Since that time he has been its editor and proprietor, and has made for it a name that takes first rank among the newspapers of America made famous by their humorous paragraphs.
Mr. Wilkins has a wife, two children, and a charming home. Of his family he says: “None of my relatives have ever been hung, but once a brother-in-law came near going to Congress. My war record is good—as during the rebellion I did not have a hand in the public treasury, but a second cousin of my wife sent a substitute, who by jumping bounties like a true patriot, covered the family with glory enough to reach me.”
As a politician, Mr. Wilkins succeeded through the aid of his paper and his friends, in holding one office, three times being collector of canal tolls at the port of Whitehall, during the years 1874, 1875,and 1878. He is a very small man, being something like five feet four inches in height. He possesses a pleasant cheery face, and adorns the lower portion of it with a moustache of a heavy and a beard of a light growth. His literary work has of late years been devoted almost exclusively to the Times. Recently he has essayed domestic sketches, stories of the home circle, and romantic tales of travel and adventure.
A New York humorist says admiringly of Wilkins: “He is a trump card in the fraternity he adorns. Never a stone has he laid in the path of an earnest fellow laborer. Meet him when you will and where you will, there is the same cordial impressment, the same hand-grip that goes straight to your marrow of susceptibility. It has been my lot to meet him when conviviality held full sway, and again when family affliction had tightly drawn the chords of sympathy; but the same gentle spirit was the thrall. The world is better for such lives; better for the kindly sentiments that emanate from minds charged less with self-opinion than liberal thoughts of and for mankind; better for the outflow of their broad religion, and safer because it is a religion of impulse, a creed born of sentiment and fostered by philanthrophy.”
Wilkins’ admirable essay on Father Adam isundoubtedly the best thing he has written. It was originally published in the Whitehall Times in 1879, and is as follows:
ADAM’S FALL.Adam was the first man—if he had been a shoe-maker he would have been the last man.He was placed in the Garden of Eden and was himself the guardian of Eden. He consequently had no partner to order him up mornings, and he, therefore, played it alone.All the clothes he had for a long time was the close of day, while a mantle of night was his bed-clothes.He had dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and he also had hoe-minion over the earth.He was finally furnished with a woman of A-rib-ia, who was sent to Eden for Adam’s Express Company. She was bone of his beauin’, and if she had been called Nancy, she would have been his bone-nancy.She was a pretty good cook, for she soon cooked up trouble for Adam, and got him into hot water.When Adam went down to his office mornings, Eve always went to her household duties; but she was a fortunate woman in one respect; she had no washing to do on Monday, so Adam wasnever afflicted by being obliged to eat mush and milk from the clock-shelf.Eve never called him back and told him to send home some soap and starch at once, nor did it cost Adam five shillings a week for clothes pins, for the beautiful smile that Mr. and Mrs. Adam always wore could be licked clean with the tip ends of their tongues.But they were not a happy couple, for the Fourth of July was unknown to Eden.They never listened to the bang of the cannon, the gun, or the fire-cracker, but Eve used to bang her hair quite often.{ wore tight boots.{ { corns.{ had { shirts with buttons off.{ { holes in his stockings.{ { holes in his pockets.Adam never { wore patched pantaloons.{ spilt ice cream on his lavender pants.{ pawned his ulster.{ pulled down his vest.{ burst his suspender buttons.{ paid $2 per day for washing.{ owed his tailor.{ { corsets.{ { striped stockings.{ wore { rats.{ { mice.{ { frizzes.Eve never { was bothered to find a dressmaker.{ found fault with her milliner.{ gossiped with her next door neighbor.{ went to church and made fun of arival’s new bonnet.{ had beaux from church.When we say never, no one need say hardlyever. But Mr. and Mrs. Adam fell just the same. As we draw a veil over their fall, let us ask every head of a family, if he doesn’t feel like howling when he remembers that Adam didn’t know what a good thing he had{ dressmakers’ }{ milliners’ }{ shoemakers’ }When he did not have any { hosiery } bills to{ jewelry } pay.{ false hair }{ ribbon }{ taffy }But he could have laid in his hammock from sunrise to sunset, and read the daily papers without feeling that he must go down town and work like thunder, so his wife and daughters could all have new bonnets to wear to church on next Sabbath day.Adam was a queer duck and the fathers of to-day owe him a sockdologer.
ADAM’S FALL.
Adam was the first man—if he had been a shoe-maker he would have been the last man.
He was placed in the Garden of Eden and was himself the guardian of Eden. He consequently had no partner to order him up mornings, and he, therefore, played it alone.
All the clothes he had for a long time was the close of day, while a mantle of night was his bed-clothes.
He had dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and he also had hoe-minion over the earth.
He was finally furnished with a woman of A-rib-ia, who was sent to Eden for Adam’s Express Company. She was bone of his beauin’, and if she had been called Nancy, she would have been his bone-nancy.
She was a pretty good cook, for she soon cooked up trouble for Adam, and got him into hot water.
When Adam went down to his office mornings, Eve always went to her household duties; but she was a fortunate woman in one respect; she had no washing to do on Monday, so Adam wasnever afflicted by being obliged to eat mush and milk from the clock-shelf.
Eve never called him back and told him to send home some soap and starch at once, nor did it cost Adam five shillings a week for clothes pins, for the beautiful smile that Mr. and Mrs. Adam always wore could be licked clean with the tip ends of their tongues.
But they were not a happy couple, for the Fourth of July was unknown to Eden.
They never listened to the bang of the cannon, the gun, or the fire-cracker, but Eve used to bang her hair quite often.
{ wore tight boots.{ { corns.{ had { shirts with buttons off.{ { holes in his stockings.{ { holes in his pockets.Adam never { wore patched pantaloons.{ spilt ice cream on his lavender pants.{ pawned his ulster.{ pulled down his vest.{ burst his suspender buttons.{ paid $2 per day for washing.{ owed his tailor.{ { corsets.{ { striped stockings.{ wore { rats.{ { mice.{ { frizzes.Eve never { was bothered to find a dressmaker.{ found fault with her milliner.{ gossiped with her next door neighbor.{ went to church and made fun of arival’s new bonnet.{ had beaux from church.
When we say never, no one need say hardlyever. But Mr. and Mrs. Adam fell just the same. As we draw a veil over their fall, let us ask every head of a family, if he doesn’t feel like howling when he remembers that Adam didn’t know what a good thing he had
{ dressmakers’ }{ milliners’ }{ shoemakers’ }When he did not have any { hosiery } bills to{ jewelry } pay.{ false hair }{ ribbon }{ taffy }
But he could have laid in his hammock from sunrise to sunset, and read the daily papers without feeling that he must go down town and work like thunder, so his wife and daughters could all have new bonnets to wear to church on next Sabbath day.
Adam was a queer duck and the fathers of to-day owe him a sockdologer.