They knew nothing of this new acquisition, but Barrifield's description
appealed to them.
"We'll put him down-stairs with Bates," reflected Perner.
"What's his name, Barry?" asked Van Dorn.
"Hazard--Colonel Hazard. Officer in the Civil War. All the big battles.
If we got pinched before the returns come he'd loan us money, too."
"That's good," said Perner. "We may need it."
They studied the bill of fare intently.
"They serve all portions for two here, don't they?" asked Perner, rather
cautiously, at last.
A waiter standing near by replied in the affirmative.
"That soup looks good," suggested Van Dorn. "Creme of tomatoes with
rice. Suppose we try two portions of that?"
Livingstone hastily referred to the price, which he was gratified to
find was unusually moderate.
"By gad, yes," he said. "Tomato soup--that's it! It's good and
substantial."
"Filling," agreed Van Dorn.
"And corn-beef hash," said Perner. "I haven't had any corn-beef hash for
a dog's age."
"Let's see," said Livingstone and Van Dorn together.
There was another hasty and surreptitious reference to the price.
"Hash, that's it!" suddenly exclaimed Barrifield, who had also been
studying the various economies set forth on the rather elaborate list.
"Nice brown hash without the poached egg or any trimmings. Just good,
plain, old-fashioned hash! Two portions of soup and two of hash will
make a lunch fit for a king. It makes my mouth water to think about it.
What shall we have to drink?"
"I find it interferes with my work, afternoons," said Perner. "Nothing
for me."
"Me, too," agreed Van Dorn. "I'm going to do without even coffee in the
middle of the day."
"Same here," said Livingstone.
"How about pie?" suggested Barrifield, wistfully.
Perner's eyes, too, grew hungry at the sound of the word, but he
maintained silence. A peculiar smile grew about Van Dorn's mouth.
"They won't serve two portions of pie for four of us, I suppose," he
said.
There was a laugh in which all joined, and the flimsy wall of pretense
was swept away.
"Let's own up, boys," said Barrifield, "it's a matter of economy just
now with all of us. We'll be lunching at Del's this time next year, but
for a few months we want to go a little slow. Let's have pie, though,
once more, anyway."
IX
IN THE SANCTUM
Perner's days were not without compensations. There was correspondence
with certain celebrities whom they had decided to engage for the coming
year, and to be addressed by these as "Dear Mr. Perner," and even as "My
dear Perner" more than once, was worth the foregoing of certain luxuries
of a grosser nature.
Then, too, the news of the "Whole Family" had gone abroad among the
bohemians of the town, and the poet and the fictionist unearthed from
the dark corners of their desks--technically known as their
"barrels"--the sketches, poems, and stories that had already (and more
than once, perhaps, as editors came and went) gone the hopeless round
from Franklin Square to Irvington-on-the-Hudson. They shook the dust
from these, cleaned them carefully with an eraser, and brought them to
Perner's door. They were a merry crowd, these bohemians, and most of
them Perner knew. He had waited with them in editorial anterooms, had
striven hip to thigh with them in the daily turmoil of Park Row, and in
more convivial and prosperous moments had touched glasses and nibbled
cheese with them at Lipton's or in Perry's back room. It was really
rather fine, therefore, to have become all at once a potentate before
whom, with due respect, they now dumped the various contents of their
several "barrels."
He informed one and all graciously that contributions would be promptly
passed upon, and such as were selected promptly paid for, speaking as
one with ample means in reserve. He knew, of course, the venerable
character of most of these offerings,--he could detect a renovated
manuscript across the room in poor light,--but he also knew that some of
his own most successful work had become much travel-worn. He was willing
to wade through the pile of chaff in the hope of discovering a gem, and,
besides, the dignity of an editorial desk with heaped-up manuscript was
gratifying.
Also, the bohemians were entertaining. They knew the peculiarities of
every editor in town, and exchanged with Perner characteristic
experiences. Among them was a stout, middle-aged man named Capers. He
was partly bald, with a smooth baby face that gave him somewhat the
appearance of Cupid, and, with his merry disposition, made him seem much
younger than he really was.
"Well, I've just had a round with Jacky," he said, as he came in one
morning, puffing somewhat after the long climb. (Jacky was the name by
which a certain very prominent and somewhat difficult magazine editor
was irreverently known among the bohemians.) "It was a pretty stiff
tussle, but I landed him."
Perner's face showed interest. Jacky, to him, had been always a trying
problem.
"How was it?" he asked. "What did you land him with?"
"Christmas poem--twenty-four lines. Wrote it for an autumn poem--twelve
lines in the first place. Too late for this year."
"You could change it, of course, easy enough."
"Changed it right there. Put the golden apples and brown nuts in a pan
on the table instead of on the sear and yellow trees. Then I showed it
to him again, and he said he didn't care much for nuts and apples
anyway, so I took 'em out, and put back the trees, and hung tinsel and
embroidered slippers on them. I had to add four more lines to do that,
and spoke of the holidays connecting the years like a 'joyous snow-clad
isthmus' to rhyme with 'Christmas.' He liked that pretty well, but
thought it ought to have a little more atmosphere, so I put in at the
beginning a stanza with a Star in the East in it, and another at the end
with Christmas day as a star in the heart of humanity--sort of a
reflection like--"
"That was good--tiptop!"
"Yes; he took it then. He said, if he didn't, I'd keep on adding to it
and break up the magazine. Now, Perny, I'll tell you, I've got a poem
that runs right straight through the year. Every stanza is complete in
itself, and I can give you any kind of a cut you want. You can have it
all as it is, or I'll take out the bones and trim it up for you, or you
can have slices out of it here and there at so much a slice."
Perner took the manuscript and ran his eye over it casually.
"That's a good thing on September," he said. "The figure of the
goldenrod like a plumed warder closing the gates of summer is striking.
We don't publish till November, though."
"That's all right! What's the matter with making it chrysanthemum--a
royal goddess at the gates of fall?"
"Why, yes; I suppose that will do." Perner handed back the sheet, and
Capers immediately set about recasting his stanzas. Perner had been too
long in literature himself to be shocked by this phase of it. He was
only amused. Furthermore, he was fond of Capers, as was every editor in
town. They knew him to be far more conscientious in his work than most
of those who affected the poetic manner and dress. These and others were
less entertaining. Some of them Perner would rather not have seen.
There was the faded, middle-aged woman whose poor, impossible manuscript
was offered to him with hands made heavy by toil. There was the pale,
eager girl who trembled before him until Perner himself was so disturbed
that words meant to be kindly and encouraging became only rude and
meaningless. There was the handsomely dressed woman of fashion, who,
with the air of a benefactor, laid before him stories of bad execution
and worse morals--stories to which was attached neither the author's
signature nor stamps for their return. Then there was the sharp-featured
woman with spectacles, who regarded him severely and proceeded to read
her poem aloud. Once this contributor brought a song, and insisted on
singing it to him, much to the enjoyment of Van Dorn and Livingstone in
the next room.
There were men who tried him, too: men who brought bad pictures and a
recommendation from their instructors; men who were worn and threadbare,
and smelled of liquor and opium; men, and women, too, who offered their
ancestry, or their relationship with better-known people, as an argument
of their ability; men who accompanied their contributions with a card
bearing a picture of themselves as well as their names, and on the
reverse side local press notices complimentary to their talents.
All of these, however, were the exceptions. For the most part, the
bohemians were sensible, cheerful people who had adopted the uncertain
paths of art, and were following them, in storm and sun, bravely and
perseveringly, to the end. They were nearly always light-hearted--on the
surface, at least,--and bore away their unaccepted offerings or left
others with equally good nature. Now and then a new aspirant came, in
whose work Perner recognized the elements of success. Toward these his
heart warmed, and out of his well of experience he gave to them an
abundance of encouragement and priceless counsel. Indeed, this was a
keen enjoyment to him. His own struggle, begun somewhat late in life,
had not been altogether an easy one, and there was delight in renewing
each step of his success. There was regret, too--regret that the old
days of freedom, and nights without responsibility, were over. Still, it
was something to be the editor of a great paper, and then, by and by,
there would be for him--for all of them--the comforts of wealth, and
with it time in which to do only such work as gave them most pleasure.
The strain was rather hard now, sometimes, and might become even harder
before the final triumph. But the end of their rainbow was drawing each
day nearer, and in the summer dusk, under their open skylight, the
friends still drowsed and talked far into the night of pots of gold.
X
A LETTER FROM MR. TRUMAN LIVINGSTONE OF NEW YORK TO MISS DOROTHY CASTLE
OF CLEVELAND
"MY OWN DEAR DORRY: When I wrote to you last we had just
arranged to have Bates come and Colonel Hazard. Well, they
are both here now, and it is a perfect circus. Bates came a
few days before the Colonel. Then when the Colonel did come
Bates regarded him in some way as a rival, and because he
isn't dressed very well tried to intimidate him. Bates is
like all solicitors,--at least, all that we have seen,--full
of talk and rather overpowering in his manner; but the
Colonel is a white-haired old army officer, and can put on
some dignity, and talk some, himself. Perny had to go down
and straighten them out, and now they've got the door locked
between them. They are all right, though, both of them, I
suppose, in their way. I don't care for Bates-- I don't like
his way, though Perny and Barry say that some of the
smartest men they ever knew were like him. But the Colonel
is an old brick. He's traveled all over the world and been
in about all the battles that ever were fought. He's been in
a lot of different kinds of business, too, and has made a
great many people rich. I don't think he's very rich now
himself--at least, he doesn't look like it, though, of
course, you can't always tell. I know he's expecting money
in a few days, for I lent him a dollar this morning until it
comes. I'm going to get him to pose for me, if he will, for
he's a perfect type for the bread-line picture if he only
won't get any new clothes. I'm almost afraid to ask him,
though he's so good-natured I know he can't refuse. He's a
boon to Perny, for he talks to all the people with
circulation schemes and keeps them down-stairs, so Van and I
can get out the rest of the pictures for the first issue
and begin some for the second. Bates takes care of the
advertising solicitors, too, which is a help, though he
worries Perny a good deal trying to find out how much money
we've got. He made up to the Colonel yesterday and
questioned him on the subject. The Colonel told him we had
_millions back of us_. Of course, we've never told the
Colonel about Frisby, and he doesn't know any more than
Bates, or just how _far_ back of us the millions are any
more than we do, but wasn't it a jolly answer? The Colonel
is always amusing, while Bates never is. Bates wants a lot
of things, too, and we've got new tables and letter-presses
and chairs that all cost a good deal more than you'd think
for. You've no idea how things count up, and now, with
Bates's salary and the stenographer's and double rent, it
really almost scares me sometimes. Still, Frisby did it
without money, though, of course, he had some things that we
have to buy, and then he got credit, too. We'll either have
to do that soon or make another assessment, for there is
something new that we have to buy every day.
"You should see our new mail-box. The Colonel bought
it--that is, he had it made to order, because there were no
ready-made boxes in the city, he said, big enough to hold
our mail when our advertisements come out, and I suppose
that is so. But it really is very large, and it has an
opening in it big enough to take in almost any size package.
We put it down-stairs by the door, and people come all the
way up the outside steps just to look at it. I don't know
what they think it is--perhaps a receiver of old clothes and
things for charity; at least, some must have thought so, for
there was a pair of little worn baby-shoes in it the other
day, and yesterday a hat. You see, it says 'The Whole
Family' on it in big black letters, and I suppose people
think it means contributions for all ages. I took the
baby-shoes to use as models, and the Colonel is wearing the
hat. It is pretty good and better than the one he had. Van
says if the paper fails we'll have to depend on our
mail-box for support.
"Of course, that was in fun, for the paper can't fail now.
Bates says he's already got contracts enough made and
promised to fill up nearly all the space in the first issue.
He says we must advertise more ourselves than we calculated
on, as that helps us to get ads in exchange, and I suppose
that is true; and then, as soon as our advertising is out,
we'll have money coming in right away to pay for it. That is
what they call 'cash terms.' I am learning a good deal about
business, and even Perny, who, as you know, was in business
once for ten years, is learning some things, too. You see,
the publishing business is different. I never realized it so
much before.
"We have lots of advice. People come in every day to tell us
how to run the paper, and yesterday a little boy about ten
years old walked in and said to Perny:
"'I'll tell you what you want in that paper: you want a
chapter every week that tells boys how to make things.'
"Wasn't it jolly? Perny is going to have it, too. Then, he's
going to have another one like it for girls, and
correspondence, and cooking receipts, and agriculture, and
puzzles, and games, and sciences, and school features,
besides all the stories and articles. I tell you, we've got
our hands full--at least, Perny has, and, of course, we help
him plan and talk about it.
"The Colonel helps, too, and he is a good hand. Then, when
we are tired, he tells us his adventures. He's a great
traveler and has written articles and stories. He knows
Egypt and the Holy Land like a book. Bates also comes up and
talks evenings, when we want to be alone. I suppose we ought
to listen to him, for he talks business, but he is an awful
bore, and we don't care much who his contracts are with, if
he's just got them. I'd put a good deal more faith in Bates
if he had different ways, but, of course, everything can't
be pleasant. Van tried to seem interested, the other night,
and asked Bates to let him see his contracts. Then he
became quite offended. He seemed to think we doubted his
having them. We don't want to get him mad, for the
advertising is where our profit comes in, and I suppose
Bates is a great hustler, only I wish he'd hustle and be
satisfied without telling us over and over about Lawson's
Baby Powder, and the Slick Shaving Stick, or the H. M.
Rolled Oats, double column agate every other week, and a lot
more things, till we're stone-blind and black in the face.
"And now, Dorry dear, I tried to write you all the news, as
you wanted me to, and I haven't told you once in all these
pages that I love you. I do, though, Dorry, and it breaks my
heart that I am not going to see you this summer. Of course,
as you say, I ought not to leave now until the paper is out,
and must be economical; but it is very hard, and if you were
not so taken up now with the paper yourself, I should be
tempted to drop everything and come away. There are
drawbacks, after all, in having a great responsibility like
this, but, of course, when it gets to going I suppose we'll
have leisure, and next summer we'll have a steam-yacht of
our own and go around the world together. Then we'll come
back and begin building the houses and all the different
institutions you have planned. You are very noble,
sweetheart, to be always thinking of others. It will be
beautiful to be rich for that reason, if for nothing else.
For my part, any condition of life would be happiness with
you at my side. God bless you, Dorothy!
"Your
"TRUE.
"P.S. The Colonel was just in, and I made this sketch of
him. He's going to pose for me, too, in the bread line. He
looked a little queer when I asked him, but he laughed the
next instant and said he would. Isn't he fine?
"TRUE.
"P.P.S.--Bates was in, too. He was flourishing a paper
triumphantly and saying, 'You fellows don't think I have any
contracts, do you?' He said that two or three times, and
then sat down and told us all over a lot of stuff we've
heard before--at least, it sounded like it. When he went out
he accidentally dropped the paper on the floor. Perny picked
it up and looked at it. It was a contract for a two-line
cosmetic ad in two issues for two dollars! Perny figured up
and found that it made our space worth less than five
hundred dollars a page, or about seven thousand dollars a
year in all, when we had been figuring on a million or so.
Perny is going to investigate to-morrow.
"T."
XI
THE GENTLE ART OF ADVERTISING
To the proprietors of the "Whole Family" the discovery that Mr. Bates
was over-fond of strong liquors was not altogether in the nature of a
surprise. Indeed, this weakness was rather condoned at first as being
one believed to be common to some of the brightest minds. Barrifield, it
will be remembered, had put it in this way about the time of Bates's
engagement, and in his opinion had been ably seconded by Perner, against
whose judgment neither Van Dorn nor Livingstone had, at this period,
dared to oppose themselves. It will be seen from his letters to Miss
Castle of Cleveland, however, that Livingstone's faith in the bibulous
solicitor of advertising was by no means complete; also that Mr. Bates
had become to all of them the unmitigated bore which the man of his
temperament and habit is more than likely to become toward evening after
a day of persistent enterprise.
Could they have seen the following letter, prepared and forwarded by Mr.
Bates during one of his more lucid intervals, the faith of all might
have crumbled somewhat sooner than it did:
OFFICE OF THE "WHOLE FAMILY"
A WEEKLY PAPER FOR YOUNG AND OLD
NEW YORK, August 10, 1897.
_To Richard Cleaver, c/o Jackson & Marsh Adv. Agency, New
York,_
FRIEND DICK: I have gone into this business as deep as
possible, and as near as I can find out these fellows have
got some money. I don't know how much yet, but at least they
pay salaries regular and any bills that come.
There is a broken-down old stuff here by the name of Hazard.
He calls himself Colonel, and has been mixed up in all kinds
of wild-cat enterprises for the past forty years. He knows
something about running a paper of the vintage of '68 and
they think he's a great man. He says they're backed by
millions, but probably knows no more about it than I do.
Whatever they've got, they are "lambs," and one of them,
Livingstone, is a regular infant in arms. They're going to
lose their "bundle," of course, whatever it is, and we want
to get as much of it as we can and as quick as possible.
Here's what _you_ want to do.
Go right to the "Family Friend" people and tell them that
the "Whole Family" is placing a big lot of advertising and
will cut into them in great shape. The "Friend" will give
you a lot of advertising to place for them, for they are
always "leery" of competition. I have already told these
chumps that they will have to do a lot more advertising than
they counted on in order to get ads themselves. They are
going to let me pick the places, and you can stand to win on
my picking places where the commission will be worth
something. You can't do that so well with the "Friend"
people, of course,--they'll pick for themselves,--but
whatever we get from that end will be just so much to the
good, and we'll divide profits in the middle.
Now about the money here. Tell Jackson to present his bill
before he turns their copy in. They will have to pay then if
they have got any money, and if they haven't we'll find it
out. They can't kick, for they've talked cash all the time,
though they seem to think that means when the advertising is
out, and I'll let them keep on thinking so awhile longer.
Now, Dick, we ought to get a pretty good thing out of this
by making it cut both ways, and I want you to attend to your
end all O. K. You hustle the "Friend" folks and I'll "round
up" these duffers. Then I'll come down in a day or two, and
we'll go out where we can have a quiet drink and talk it
over. Your commissions ought to swell up pretty well this
month if we work this through properly, and mine ought to
help out my salary here, which I shall go on pulling as long
as their "dough" holds out to burn. Oh, but these fellows
are a lot of jays! They instructed me when I came to take
ads on the basis of a million circulation _at least_, and to
charge _ten dollars a line_ for space. How's that? I'm doing
it, of course!
Yours,
JOE.
About the time, possibly, that Mr. Bates was preparing this letter, the
proprietors of the "Whole Family" were gathered about a table under the
studio skylight in earnest discussion. In the center of the table lay a
large and loud-voiced watch, a small, inoffensive-looking camera, a
savage-looking gun, and a rather showy Bible. After much argument they
had finally agreed upon these articles as their premiums, as well as
upon the necessity of following up their "cash for names" announcement
with premium offers both in their own and other periodicals. They were
gathered now to prepare the copy for this advertising. Perner was
performing the mechanical labor, while the others assisted him with
appropriate adjectives and sentences.
"I don't think 'excellent' is a strong enough word for the watch,"
objected Van Dorn, picking up the noisy little tin box and regarding it
rather sternly, perhaps because it did not suggest something more
gratifying to the ear.
Perner scowled and scratched his head.
"I don't think so myself," he admitted, "but I've used up everything
else on the paper. I've said 'splendid,' 'magnificent,' 'grand,'
'glorious,' and all those. There isn't anything left that I can think
of. Get my Thesaurus, Stony, off the desk in the next room, and turn to
'beauty.' That'll give us a starting-point."
Livingstone obeyed, and was presently running his finger down the page.
"'Gorgeous' wouldn't quite do, would it?" he asked doubtfully.
"N-no, hardly. Look along a little farther. What comes after that?"
"Then--let's see--there's 'good-looking,' 'well-made,' 'proper,'
'shapely,' and 'symmetrical.' I don't think much of any of those, do
you?"
"Well, no," reflected Van Dorn; "however true they might be of the
proprietors, we'd hardly want to say that our watch was 'good-looking'
and 'proper.'"
"How about 'dazzling,' 'showy,' 'majestic,' 'sumptuous'?"
"Oh, pshaw, Stony, give me the book!" said Perner, impatiently. "Here,
Barry, you look. These artists don't know any more about a dictionary
than we do about a paint-shop."
Barrifield took the book and examined it a moment in silence.
"How would 'elegant' do, and 'superb'?" he asked.
"Good, but we've used them already on the paper."
"'Delicate,' 'dainty,' 'refined'--"
Livingstone looked down at the fat-bellied, moon-faced time-piece and
laughed. Van Dorn took it more seriously.