Mr. Andrews' loving memoir of newspaper days in Chicago is a side-of-the-south Iliad to great editors and famous newsmen in a brawling city. Walking coolly through his pages is the even-then patriarchal figure of Carl Sandburg; with whom he shared a cubicle on the Daily News while Andrews edited the News's Midweek Magazine. Andrews began in the newspaper business as a poet at the age of eleven, later became a cub on the Minneapolis Journal, was promoted to City Editor at 20 (while posing as 30). He leaped from the Journal to the Chicago Daily News on the strength of an almost totally manufactured page-one fiction about a Civil War drummer who died in obscurity at the county poor farm at 104. Mr. Andrews' heroes and llains include Ben Hecht, Al Capone, James T. Farrell, Gene Tunney, MacKinlay antor, James Thurber, dozens of others and, happily, Sandburg, Sandburg and Sandburg. Every inch of the Windy City is curried for tales and no favorite area left unsung. Between tales, Mr. Andrews sounds like the all-time master sentimentalist of the ourth Estate (""I claimed I had my first by-line before I was out of knee pants""), and his bleary, closing-hour laughter over the Chicago grotesques is not much different from local fabulosities swapped over the bar in any press club.