Among the New York editors, your and my old friend M. M. Noah,1 the Nestor2 of the band, leads the list—in point of age and experience, at any rate. What a successful editor he has been! Good-hearted, always willing to do a kindness, liberal handed, not too nice in his political morality, true to his friends, and not very spiteful toward his foes, desirous to live well, and almost equally desirous that others also should live well—such are some of the characteristics of Major Noah. He has seen New York grow up, as it were; at any rate he has seen the growth of what we possess in the way of literature and classic refinement. For some forty years he has trod the stage—and life, that has proved a tragedy to so many, has been to him an even drama. Long may it be ere the curtain drops upon his last act!
Major Noah still retains his portliness of form, activity of limb, and benevolence of feature. He mixes much with the world, and is acceptable every where. You may see him of an evening, for a stray hour, on a back bench in the first tier of the Olympic—or perhaps the Broadway. He has excellent taste as a critic of the drama, and has written some by no means bad pieces himself. When he condescends to talk in the gossiping vein, of past times, then you get a treat indeed. We know few persons who are more entertaining in conversation than Major Noah. He is always lively, with French vivacity and grace in his style—and always brings up something interesting. He is now a proprietor and editor of the "Sunday Times,"3 and it is said, likes a little dab in the editorial columns of some other prints, too. Few men have more personal friends, and few men have done as much good, according to their means.
Col. James Watson Webb,4 may perhaps, without impropriety, stand next upon our list. His journal undoubtedly exercises a good deal of influence—at least it does, if those appalling large advertising sheets ever exercise any influence. The style of Col. Webb's writing is forcible, almost dictatorial, with many dashes of self opinion, scorn, and impatience of opposing argument. Col. W. is considered as the head, among editors, of "the other side" of the whigs, than Horace Greeley.5 He lives in style, and always among the "upper ten." He used to have town houses and country houses; but alas! such things seem not intended for editors; and so they have failed him. Col. Webb, in person, is full and healthy looking; he limps a little, from the effects of a wound in a well-known rencontre.
Since the death of Col. Stone,6 Mr. John Inman7 has been principal editor of the Commercial Advertiser. By most persons it is considered a still better paper under his management than formerly. Col. Stone was remarkably conservative; he inherited the notions of the old federalists, or rather shared them, and was, in politics, somewhat of a thorn in the whig side, for he never deigned to "soft soap" the people. Mr. Inman is more genial in ideas and sentiments. He possesses considerable literary talent, and was for some time the principal editor of the "Columbian Magazine." His writings, however, are not deep; their principal merits are a flowing style, and an opportune choice of subject. Mr. Inman labors under an infirm state of health consequent upon too continued application.
Mr. Beach,8 you know, has retired from the "Sun," and left it to his boys. That was a lucky "spec" of his, in getting hold of the little ricketty, dingy concern that few expected to live six months! Perhaps the records of newspaper experience furnish no instance of a more rapidly growing and widely flourishing newspaper. Mr. Beach had his good and his indifferent qualities. I cannot say I think he possessed bad ones, decidedly. One of these days I intend to give you a description of the "Sun" establishment.
Should you like, these sketches of New York editors will be continued from time to time.
MANHATTAN.