Monday, Mar. 09, 1953

TIME wives are a tolerant lot. They put up with their husbands' unorthodox working hours and, in the case of editorial people, with a work week that starts on Thursday and ends on Monday, with a "weekend" on Tuesday and Wednesday. But the wives who are the greatest martyrs to their husbands' careers must surely be those of part-TIME Incers--the correspondents in more than 100 cities around the world who have full-time jobs on newspapers, then come home to spend more hours working on stories for TIME.

Many wives--perhaps in self-defense--join their husbands in this spare-time activity. They pitch in to act as telephone message centers, filing clerks, typists, listening posts and, when the occasion demands it, as reporters. Many are former newspaperwomen; others quickly assimilate some of their husbands' techniques of digging for news facts.

Says Eugene Segal, part-time correspondent in Cleveland: "A reporter's illusion that he is a pro, doing a kind of work that requires long practice and highly specialized skill, is deflated when his wife fills in for him during his busy periods. Mine was a chemist and nutritionist. Now she raises children, runs a big household, designs clothes, manages money like a corporation comptroller, and organizes recreational activities at a junior high school ... I keep finding out that there's no end to that woman's resourcefulness when I call on her to serve as a reporter, too." Recently Segal complained to Reland, his wife, about the trouble he was having in finding family pictures for the cover story on Treasury Secretary George Humphrey. The next day, a photo of Humphrey & grandchildren in a pony cart turned up on Segal's desk (TIME, Jan. 26). Mrs. Segal had got it from Mrs. Humphrey.

Many wives have developed their own special ways of helping out with TIME stories. Part-time Correspondent Bud Wild, of London, Ontario, credits his wife, Libby, with an "uncanny ability to put the finger on me no matter where I may wander," whenever a TIME query comes to their home. In Hartford, Conn., Moses Berkman's wife, Florence, is especially helpful on stories dealing with art, since she is both an ex-reporter and a member of the Hartford Art School Board. But Louis Brustein, Bridgeport, Conn., attributes to his wife an unusual aptitude: her patience in peeling onions. "This vegetable has a lot to do with journalistic success. When people are helpful in getting stories for TIME, we always gift them with a gallon or so of my superspecial onion soup ... I love to make onion soup, but hate to peel and slice the onions."

Martha Ziegner, wife of Ed Ziegner, Indianapolis, was a reporter for eight years and, her husband says, "knows a story when she sees one, and has learned to dig for the points TIME likes." Art Leibson, El Paso, says his wife, Paula, a former advertising copy writer, "has a fine eye for the unusual and interesting." But Ben Bagdikian, Providence, is skeptical of his wife's story-spotting ability. Says he: "Elizabeth insists periodically that some story would be of interest to TIME-readers. I explain carefully that the item is frivolous and, for the purposes of argument, send it in as a suggestion. It appears in the next issue, of course. The latest ... was the testimonial for 85-year-old Senator Theodore Francis Green . . . She picked up the item, insisted that anyone 85 years old who refused to have a testimonial for fear people would think he's retiring would be TIME material. The only thing to be said for her argument was that she was right [TIME, Feb. 2]."

In Tampa, Fla., J. A. Murray's wife is herself a correspondent for a number of publications, sometimes helps him with stories, often with grammar. Writes Murray: "She was head of the English department of the Drumright, Okla. high school many years ago; I was the news department of the Drumright Derrick, small daily, and she came down to the office to raise a rumpus about some of her precious journalism class's news that I had swiped for the Derrick. That's how we came to get married. She will raise a rumpus today about a split infinitive." Another TIME correspondent who had a somewhat similar experience is Jay Edgerton of Minneapolis, who once interviewed a girl student at the University of Minnesota in connection with the story on the Younger Generation (TIME, Nov. 5, 1951). Now she is his wife, Stephenie.

Cordially yours,

James A. Linen

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