3 Chapter 2 Life on the Mississippi

Chapter 2 Life on the Mississippi "Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do." —Mark Twain In March 1847, Sam's father caught pneumonia and died. Sam was only eleven. He felt terrible about his father's death. It wasn't because the two had been close—they hadn't. (Sam said he never saw his father laugh.) But Sam felt bad that he hadn't been a better son.

The family fell on especially hard times. Jane Clemens had to take Sam out of school and put him to work. He became a printer's apprentice at the Missouri Courier newspaper. In those days, every letter of every word had to be set by hand from individual metal block letters. Sam's job included setting stories in type, running and cleaning the printing press, sweeping the floors, and delivering papers. In return, Sam received free room and board. He was not paid any money, nor were apprentices in most trades. Learning a trade was considered

payment enough. Sam's "room" was a straw mattress on the floor of the printing office. His "board" consisted of meals so skimpy that he stole potatoes and onions from the cellar. Sam also consumed a steady diet of books—everything he could get his hands on. In 1850 he went to work for his older brother, Orion, at the Hannibal Journal.

Before long, Sam, now a teenager, began to write. His humorous stories, poetry, and local news were published in the Journal. To liven up the paper, he sometimes signed his pieces W. Epaminondas Adrastus Blab, or he caught readers' attention with headlines like:

TERRIBLE ACCIDENT! 500 MEN KILLED AND MISSING! We had set the above head up expecting (of course) to use it, but as the accident hasn't happened yet, we'll say (To be Continued,) Sam's lively reporting sold more copies of the Journal, but Orion didn't appreciate his brother stretching, twisting, and even inventing news. Journalism was supposed to be fact, not fiction. When Sam was seventeen, he packed his bags. His restless spirit took him first to St. Louis, then to New York, Philadelphia, Keokuk (Iowa), Chicago, and Cincinnati.

Sam worked at various printing jobs in each new place. For a time, he wrote travel letters for the Keokuk Post, signing the humorous pieces Thomas Jefferson Snodgrass. Sam had fun writing. To him, it wasn't work. But the printing jobs were boring. Sam later admitted that he did them "lazily, repiningly, complainingly, disgustedly, and always shirking the work when I was not watched." Sam also wanted to make money—lots of money. So when he read about people making fortunes trading the cocoa plant in South America, he decided to go there. It was the first of many get-rich-quick schemes Sam made the mistake of pursuing. He headed south on the Mississippi