THE CAMERONS HAVE A VISITOR
During the next week Paul was obliged to go several times to the _Echo_
offices and each time he went with the secret hope that he would see Mr.
Carter and have the opportunity to hand back to him the hateful money
that burned in his breast pocket. The chance, however, never came. The
door of the great man's private room was continually closed and when the
boy suggested to the clerk that he wait and talk with the publisher, he
was told that Mr. Carter was engaged and could see no one that day. The
thought of mailing the money occurred to Paul, but as this method of
returning it seemed precarious and uncertain, he promptly abandoned the
idea. For the same reason he was unwilling to leave the bill in a sealed
envelope to be delivered to the editor-in-chief by one of the employees.
Should a sum so immense, at least so immense in the lad's estimation, be
lost, he never could replace it. Certainly he was in trouble enough
already without chancing another dilemma.
In the meantime he carried the bill around with him, trying in the
interval to decide what to do with it. Gradually he became accustomed to
having the money in his possession. It did not seem so strange a thing
now as it had in the beginning. After all, fifty dollars was not such a
vast sum. To a person of Mr. Carter's wealth it probably was nothing at
all, an amount too trifling to cause a second thought. Besides, he had
not really bound himself to Mr. Carter. He had not actually guaranteed
to do anything. It was Mr. Carter who had insisted that he take the
money.
Unquestionably in exchange for it Paul was expected to use his influence
to persuade the boys of 1920 to sell their paper; still, using one's
influence did not necessarily mean that one must succeed. If he
suggested the deal and it failed to go through, would he not have done
all that was required of him? Mr. Carter had stipulated nothing more
than that he use his influence. If the _Echo_ owner had over-estimated
the power of that influence, was not that his lookout? No doubt such an
understanding was quite customary in business circles and was not so
important a matter as he took it to be.
The more the lad thought the matter over the more plausible the
retention of the money seemed. To use one's influence was surely a
legitimate arrangement. It was done in politics every day of the week.
Weren't individuals in high positions constantly accepting tips to put
through business measures of one sort or another, regardless of whether
they personally approved of them or not? To be sure, he had heard his
father call such money _bribe money_, _dirty money_, and refer to the
men who took it as being _bought up_.
Paul knew his father scorned such proceedings. That was the reason he
had lost the campaign when running for mayor against Mr. Carter in 1915.
It had been an underhanded fight and almost everyone in Burmingham,
regardless of party, had thought so. Mr. Carter had won the election, it
is true, but it had been at the expense of the respect of the entire
community.
And now he, Paul Cameron, was deserting the principles for which his
father stood and was accepting those of his opponent. Plainly speaking,
that was what the thing amounted to. He was taking money for something
he disapproved of doing; he was being a traitor to his class, to his
friends, to the school. The boys on the staff of the paper respected and
trusted him. They would never suspect him of treachery. Should he stand
up and advocate the sale of the _March Hare_ he knew his word would have
weight. If, on the other hand, he manfully presented Mr. Carter's offer
as it honestly should be presented, he was practically sure that the
measure would be voted down.
Yet if he returned the money to Mr. Carter and refused to have anything
further to do with the affair, he must forfeit his typewriter, the thing
on which he had set his heart.
What an unlucky snarl it was! How unfortunate that the _March Hare's_
bank account should have been muddled and its editor driven to repair an
error that was not his! Had not this occurred, all would have gone
smoothly and he could have thrust the odious money back in Mr. Carter's
face and left his office a free man. He hated Mr. Carter, the _March
Hare_, the school, and all the web of circumstances in which he was
entangled! He wanted that typewriter. It seemed as if he must have it.
In the meantime, the May issue of the school paper came out and
preparations for the June number, the last that 1920 would publish,
began. The swift passing of the days forced Paul's hand. Whichever way
he was to act he must act soon now, and he found himself no nearer a
decision than he had been two weeks ago. He still had Mr. Carter's money
in his pocket, and he was still eyeing the Corona he longed for and
which he could neither bring himself to purchase nor give up; he was,
too, quite as unreconciled to doing his Alma Mater an injury as he had
been before. Round and round in a circle he went, the same old arguments
bringing him to the same old conclusions. There seemed to be no way
out.
While he was still pondering what he would do, an interesting visitor
arrived at the Cameron home. This was Mr. Percy Wright, a college
classmate of Paul's father and the owner of one of the largest paper
mills in the State. He was a man of magnetic personality and wide
business experience and Paul instantly conceived that warm admiration
for him which a younger boy will often feel for an older man.
A fund of amusing anecdotes rippled from Mr. Wright's tongue. It seemed
as if there was no subject on which he could not converse. He had an
entertaining story about almost every topic suggested and kept the
entire Cameron family laughing heartily through each meal. Paul watched
the stranger with fascinated eyes. How charming he was, how witty, how
clever! And yet Mr. Wright was not always jesting. On the contrary, he
could be very serious when his hobby of paper-making, with its many
interdependent industries, was mentioned.
He was, for example, in close touch with the publication of periodicals,
newspapers, and books, and he immediately hailed Paul as a colleague.
"So you are the editor-in-chief of a widely circulated monthly magazine,
are you, my boy?" he remarked. "Well, you certainly have an enviable
job. It is a pity you are not going to keep on with the work. Your
father tells me he thinks you have made a great success of it."
Paul colored uncomfortably.
"Not that I would have you throw over your college career," added Mr.
Wright quickly. "Not for a moment! But publishing work is so alluring! I
have always wanted to own a newspaper and I have not yet given up hope
of doing so before I die."
"My paper isn't anything wonderful," said Paul modestly.
"But it is a clean, good magazine of its sort. I have been looking over
several copies of it since I have been here. You have nothing to be
ashamed of. I call the _March Hare_ a mighty fine little publication.
It's a splendid starter and I'll be bound has given you some excellent
experience. Every paper has to have a beginning. All our big newspapers
began on a small scale. There is some difference between one of our
modern Sunday issues and the _Boston News-Letter_ of long ago."
"I don't think I know what the _Boston News-Letter_ was," Paul said.
"You've never seen a copy of this early Massachusetts newspaper?"
"No, sir."
"Well, it was a small, four-page sheet, printed in old type, and filled
to a great extent with announcements of merchandise that had been
shipped from England to the colonies for sale: pipes of wine, bolts of
homespun, pieces of silk, consignments of china. Such things came from
overseas in those days, and the arrival of the vessels that brought them
was eagerly awaited by prospective purchasers, for there were few
luxuries in the New World. Along with these advertisements was printed
the news of the day; and that all this matter could be contained in four
small pages proves how uneventful was early Massachusetts history. Now
and then some great event would command more space. I recall seeing one
copy of the paper with a picture of the first steam locomotive--a crude,
amusing picture it was, too. Later the _Massachusetts Gazette_ appeared,
and soon afterward there were other papers and other printers scattered
throughout the respective States. Benjamin Franklin was in Boston, you
remember, from 1723 until 1726, when he went to Philadelphia and did
publishing work until 1756. A hand press identical in principle with the
one he used is still preferred to this day in the large newspaper press
rooms for striking off proof when the amount of it is too small to be
put through a power press. The hand press is a simple and quick agent
for getting a result. The ink roller is run over the type and hand
pressure is applied. One could not of course print a large newspaper on
such a limited scale; but for jobbing work Franklin's variety of press
is still acceptable and unrivaled."
"It seems funny to think of a Boston paper ever being so small," mused
the boy.
Mr. Wright smiled.
"And not only small but of infrequent issue," said the paper
manufacturer. "In 1709 there was only one daily paper published in
London; twelve appeared three times a week; and three twice a week."
"Great Scott!"
"Yes, it is amazing, isn't it? _The Tatler_ began in 1709 and _The
Spectator_ not long afterward. You must recall that the entire newspaper
industry as we know it has been developed within comparatively recent
years. The great daily, with its Sunday edition of pictures, colored
sheets, news of classified varieties, and advertising and sporting
sections, is only possible by means of the modern press which has the
capacity for turning out in a short time such an immense number of
papers."
Paul listened, fascinated by the subject.
"Gradually," went on Mr. Wright, "new brains attacked the problems of
the small press, improving and enlarging it until little by little a
press was built up which is so intricate and so wonderful that it almost
ceases to be a machine and becomes nearly human. Boston, you know,
harbors the largest printing press in the world. It is made up of
383,000 parts; it carries eight huge rolls of paper weighing from
thirteen hundred to fifteen hundred pounds, four of them at each end;
and in addition it has two color presses attached on which the colored
supplement is printed."
"How do they ever lift such heavy rolls of paper into place?" inquired
Paul.
"A chain is put around them and they are hoisted up by machinery,"
answered Mr. Wright. "The employees are warned to stand from under, too,
when they are lifted, for should one of those mighty rolls fall, the
person beneath might be seriously injured or perhaps killed."
"How many papers can they turn out on a press of that size?" was Paul's
next question.
"It is possible to turn out 726,000 eight-page papers an hour or the
equivalent of that quantity; the number of papers depends on the size of
them, you see."
"What do you suppose good Benjamin Franklin would say to that?" laughed
Paul.
"I fancy he would remark a number of things," Mr. Wright returned. "In
fact, a modern newspaper plant, with its myriad devices for meeting the
business conditions of our time, would be quite an education to
Franklin, as it is to the rest of us. Did you ever see a big newspaper
printed from start to finish, Paul?"
"No, sir."
"Ah, that's a pity. As a publisher you should be better informed on your
subject," observed the elder man half teasingly. "I am going to Boston
on Saturday. If your father is willing would you like to go along with
me and spend the week-end in town?"
The lad's eyes shone.
"Would I like it!" he managed to stammer.
"I've got to see some of the business houses we supply with paper,"
continued Mr. Wright, "and incidentally I am sure I could arrange a
visit to a big newspaper office Saturday evening when they are getting
out the Sunday papers and have all their presses in operation."
"That would be great!"
"I think you would enjoy the trip," asserted Mr. Wright. "The printing
of a paper is a wonderful process to see. I have a great admiration and
respect for a fine newspaper, anyway. When one considers how widely it
is read and the influence it possesses for good or evil, one cannot but
take off his hat to it. No agency in the community can more quickly stir
up or allay strife. Public opinion to no small extent takes its cue from
the papers. They are great educators, great molders of the minds of the
rank and file. Let the papers whisper war or national calamity and the
stock markets all over the world are affected. And that is but one of
the vital influences the paper wields. The temper of the whole people is
colored by what they read. Whenever the editorials of reputable papers
work toward a specific goal, they usually achieve it. Have we not had a
striking example of that during the present war? The insidious power of
propaganda is incalculable. Fortunately our national papers are
high-minded and patriotic and have directed their influence on the side
of the good, quieting fear, promoting loyalty, encouraging honesty, and
strengthening the nobler impulses that govern the popular mind. For
people are to an extent like a flock of sheep; they give way to panic
very quickly. What one thinks the next one is liable to believe. Much of
this opinion is in the hands of the newspapers. At the same time, the
minds of the greater thinkers of the country are often clarified by
reading the opinions mirrored by the press. One cannot praise too highly
the wisdom and discretion of our newspapers during the perilous days of
war when a word from them might have been as a match to tinder, and when
they held many important secrets in their keeping. The great dailies
were loyal to the last degree and the confidence that was placed in them
was never betrayed. It was unavoidable that they should possess
knowledge that the rest of us did not; but they never divulged it when
cautioned that to do so would be against the national welfare. The
sailings of ships, the departure of troops, the names of the ports from
which vessels left, the shipment of food and supplies--all tidings
such as these the press withheld."
"It was bully of them!" Paul exclaimed with enthusiasm.
"Yes, they rendered a great service. And you must remember that it was
especially difficult since there is always a keen rivalry between papers
and a tremendous eagerness to be the first one with the news. Whenever a
paper gets inside information of an interesting nature there is a great
temptation to publish it. There have been few such offenses, however,
during the present war, be it said to the newspaper men's credit. Hence
it became possible for the President to grant regular interviews to the
leading reporters of the country and speak to them with comparative
frankness with regard to national policies without fear that what he
said would be garbled and turned to mischievous ends."
"I don't believe I ever thought before of the responsibility the papers
had," remarked Paul soberly.
"Their responsibility is immeasurable," replied Mr. Wright. "The
opportunity a paper has for checking rash judgment and arousing the best
that is in humanity is endless. That is why I should like to control a
newspaper, that I might make it the mouthpiece of all that is highest
and noblest. To my mind only persons of splendid ideals should be
entrusted with the publishing of papers. If the editor is to form the
opinion of the masses, he should be a man worthy of his mission."
Paul toyed with his cuff-link.
"So, son," concluded Mr. Wright, "you've got to be a very good person if
you aim to be a newspaper man--at least, that's what I think. Any
printed word is like seed; it is liable to take root you know not where.
A paper voices the thought of those who produce it. Therefore it
behooves its makers to consider well their thoughts."
The boy winced and a flush surged to his forehead. Certainly Mr. Wright
would not approve of the fifty-dollar bill which at that instant lay
concealed in his pocket. As he turned to leave the room, he was very
conscious of the leather pocketbook that pressed against his heart. He
wished he was clear of that money. But he had already kept it more than
two weeks and it was of course too late to return it now.