The Story Tellers' Magazine, Vol. I, No. 2, July 1913

In Short

This periodical serves as both a repository of folklore and a manifesto for the "Storytellers’ League" movement of 1913. Through a blend of retold myths, pedagogical theory, and practical advice, it advocates for the oral tradition as a necessary remedy against a modern, machine-dominated world. By emphasizing the "play spirit" and the power of the imagination, the collection aims to equip teachers and parents with the literary tools to nurture the inner lives of children, ensuring that storytelling remains a cornerstone of both home and school culture.

The Story

The magazine opens with a call to arms, not for soldiers, but for storytellers. The central narrative arc of the issue begins with a dramatized retelling of the Merlin legend, where a king, facing the collapse of his kingdom and his own moral decay, seeks the counsel of a mysterious boy. This tale acts as a bridge between the ancient, magical past and the modern reader, establishing the premise that true power—whether in building a tower or building a child’s character—relies on deep insight rather than brute force.

From this foundation, the magazine pivots to diverse stories that span human experience. We encounter the humble, heart-wrenching beauty of Beethoven improvising for a blind girl, the mythic longing of Endymion for the moon, the saintly devotion of Christopher, and the poetic awakening of Cædmon. These are not merely stories; they are moral blueprints. Each narrative is framed to illustrate a specific virtue—service, vision, or the pursuit of beauty—demonstrating how the oral tradition preserves the essential lessons of history and humanity.

The magazine’s own "story" follows a deliberate progression: it moves from the mythic and the historical to the analytical, examining how these tales function in the classroom and the home. The articles argue that a child’s development is inextricably linked to their exposure to great narratives. By the time we reach the sections detailing the activities of the Storytellers’ Leagues across the country, the trajectory is clear: the movement seeks to standardize and promote the art of storytelling as a professional and social imperative.

The narrative concludes by grounding these lofty ideals in the realities of 1913 American life. It addresses the need for structured play in an urbanizing society, asserting that without organized, imaginative recreation, the human spirit withers. The "business manager’s story" serves as an epilogue, reflecting the enthusiasm of a fledgling movement that feels its time has come. Ultimately, the magazine posits that the act of telling a story is a sacred, communal responsibility—one that transforms the reader from a passive consumer of information into an active participant in the preservation of culture.

How It Unfolds

The mythic foundation The issue begins with the arrival of the boy-seer Merlin, who exposes the incompetence of the king's advisors and restores order by revealing the hidden truths beneath the earth. This sets a tone of wonder and establishes the storyteller as a figure of authority.

The resonance of art The focus shifts to the power of music and poetry, using vignettes of Beethoven and the legend of the first English poet to demonstrate how creative expression serves as a refuge for the suffering and the forgotten.

The pedagogical argument Experts provide a theoretical framework, explaining why imagery is the "magic" of the story and how teachers can use storytelling to bridge the gap between a child’s natural curiosity and the rigors of literacy.

The organizational expansion The final beats move from the abstract to the practical, listing the various local chapters of the Storytellers’ Leagues and providing exhaustive lists of recommended books, effectively turning the reader into a member of a national network.

The People

The figures within these pages are divided between the legendary, the historical, and the contemporary. Merlin stands as the ultimate archetype of the storyteller: the youth who sees what the "wise men" cannot, representing the intuitive power of childhood. In contrast, the figure of the humble, weary Saint Christopher represents the ideal of service, showing that strength is best used to carry others across the metaphorical rivers of life.

The contributors—educators like Richard T. Wyche and Percival Chubb—act as the movement's scouts. They are driven by the belief that the modern, industrial world is starving the human imagination. They view themselves not as mere academics, but as stewards of a folk-culture that must be actively taught to prevent the rise of "bad recreation." Their students, represented by the eager teachers and children mentioned in the correspondence section, are the vessels for this mission, transforming from book-burdened pupils into vibrant, story-driven individuals.

In Its Own Voice

"Expression is life, suppression is death."

This observation, found in the editorial section, summarizes the magazine's fundamental argument that storytelling is a biological and moral necessity.

"The measure of a people’s civilization, he says, is not in the amount of machinery they possess, but in the thoughts and affections which go to make up character."

This line, appearing in a book review, highlights the editor's rejection of industrial materialism in favor of a deeper, character-based education.

What It's Really About

At its core, this magazine is a critique of the early twentieth-century preoccupation with efficiency and machinery. It argues that modern life, with its focus on typewriters and industry, threatens to atrophy the human soul. The collection posits that the "play spirit" is the antidote to this decay. By returning to myth, folklore, and the oral tradition, society can recover a sense of purpose and collective identity. It is a plea for the "vital" over the "mechanical," suggesting that our most enduring legacy is not found in our inventions, but in the stories we tell and the character we build in the next generation.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of education, the roots of the modern "storytelling" revival, or the anxieties of the early twentieth century will find this a fascinating document. It offers a rare window into a time when the classroom was viewed as a theater for the soul. The prose is earnest and occasionally didactic, reflecting the high moral seriousness of the Progressive Era.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the specific biases of the time, particularly the uncritical, romanticized views of "folk" cultures and the rigid, gendered expectations of the era’s teachers and parents. The advertisements for typewriters, nestled alongside meditations on Beethoven and the legend of Arthur, create a jarring, yet oddly charming, juxtaposition that captures the spirit of 1913. This book does not offer a quick escape; it asks the reader to slow down and consider the weight of the stories they carry. It stays with you as a reminder of how we once sought to civilize the world—not through technology, but through the careful, deliberate cultivation of the imagination.