ABSTRACT
I think it was in the month of June, 1867, that the New York State Editorial Association held its annual convention at Penn Yan. A Mr. Cleveland, editor of one of the village papers, was President of the Association that year. He had the further distinction of being a brother of the wife of that celebrated journalist, Mr. Horace Greeley of the Tribune. Mr. Wirt Sikes, a literary man, it was announced, would read a poem. I came to know Mr. Sikes somewhat in after years, but upon what his literary fame rested then or rests now I am not able to specify. The only time I can recall having read about him, in connection with literature, was, I think, in the New York Tribune, wherein certain literary characters were reviewed in grades and classes, beginning with—I don’t remember whom, Thackeray perhaps, and descending, as the editor expressed it, “down to Wirt Sikes.” He was also the husband of Olive Logan, of whom I really ought to be better informed that I am, for I frequently met her. She was an actress, an authoress, or an elocutionist; and I seem to never be able to ascertain which, or to what extent. She and Mr. Sikes were alike in one respect, they were both deaf; but after all they hardly had so much to do with this newspaper convention, which was the first I ever attended, to warrant such extended reference to them, although it was there that I first came into a knowledge of their existence. Being new to New York, and, to a regrettable degree, unacquainted with its newspaper men, it seemed a wise thing to do to go to Penn Yan, and see them all in a bunch. The idea that it was a convention of newspaper men, held for discussing their own affairs, and that I was not a newspaper man, and had not been invited to be present, did not occur to me. When on the ground, however, it was noticeable that no very cordial reception was 147extended; still, as my principal competitor, Mr. S. M. Pettengill, was there, and a certain other agent from New York- City as well, Peter K. Deyo by name, not to mention a press manufacturer or two, an ink salesman and two or three others who sought dealings with the newspapers, I did not feel specially out of place.
