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"BILL"
CELEBRATES HIS BIRTHDAY BY WORKING "COW EDITOR" of Weekly Oregonian, Aged 59, on Shift for 24 Hours. |
| From 8:15 this morning until 8:30 tomorrow morning W.J. (Bill) Cuddy will work without sleep or rest. And it is his birthday, his 59th. Few men when they are 59 years old, Will have the desire or ability to work over 24 hours in a solid uninterrupted stretch, but Bill doesn't mind. He likes it. "You'll find," explained Bill, "that when you reach middle age you'll want to be doing something, otherwise you'll get rusty. Hard work never hurt anyone." Bill, by the way, is the editor of the Weekly Oregonian. Not many residents of Portland see the weekly, but it is a regular visitor throughout the Northwest, and Cuddy's sapient advice on how to grow onions and such is anxiously awaited every seven days. "I'm the cow editor," says Bill, For nearly a quarter of a century. Bill Cuddy-no one thinks of calling him William-has been connected with the Oregonian, and long before that he was in the newspaper business. Worcester, Mass. claims the credit of being Bill's native heath, but Bill found New England overcrowded, and when a mere kid, he faced the sunset and hiked. When 16 years old, Bill was a press feeder on the Omaha Bee. Omaha was wild and woolly in those days, but as it became civilized Bill felt cramped | for room and headed for Idaho, which was further west of course, and then he drifted to Portland. "It was in 1885 I reached Portland." ruminates Bill. "The town was dead. The Portland Hotel basement had been built and stopped there. The Oregonian had just bought a new web press and it was under canvas. W. W. Cole's circus got here at the same time and played out at the head of Washington Street. It was the first railroad show to visit this town. The East Side was wilderness and I wouldn't have given $2 for the whole business, and yet when I returned a few years later, they had cut the East Side into lots as far out as Mount Tabor." F. A. Carle was managing editor of the Oregonian and Bill figured on working in as telegraph editor. When he arrived, however, Mike Roache had composing room and hung up his slip. This was back in 1899, and Bill has been on the paper ever since, typo, proofreader, exchange editor, paragrapher and what-not until, after Wilkie Dunaway became foreman of The Telegram, composing room, resigning the direction of the Weekly Oregonian after 10 years Bill succeeded to the title of cow editor. That was nine years ago. About a year after Bill began to distributing advice to correspondents, he had |
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appendicitis and when he recovered his internal arrangement had been recognized.
" Never had a sick day since." Proudly boasts William J., "and I eat three square
meals a day, sometimes four and occasionally five meals. Once a week I work
all day and all night. This is when I get out the weekly. I go on the job Wednesday
morning at 8:15 and work through until Thursday morning at 9:50, Hard? I don't
think so." Four times over is Bill a grandfather, "I married the best girl in
the world and she is still a bride." Says Bill with a smile. "Birthday? Oh yes,
I'm only 59. I've decided I will live to be 96. My mother who was born in the
old country, lived to be 98, but I don't expect to equal that, Ninety-six is
my limit-I won't go quite to par." But everyone who knows Bill Cuddy would like
to see Bill reach par."