MEETING A REVERSE OR TWO
With the hitherto unreached magazine circulation of a million copies a
month in sight, Edward Bok decided to give a broader scope to the
periodical. He was determined to lay under contribution not only the
most famous writers of the day, but also to seek out those well-known
persons who usually did not contribute to the magazines; always keeping
in mind the popular appeal of his material, but likewise aiming
constantly to widen its scope and gradually to lift its standard.
The editor was very desirous of securing something for his magazine
that would delight children, and he hit upon the idea of trying to
induce Lewis Carroll to write another _Alice in Wonderland_ series. He
was told by English friends that this would be difficult, since the
author led a secluded life at Oxford and hardly ever admitted any one
into his confidence. But Bok wanted to beard the lion in his den, and
an Oxford graduate volunteered to introduce him to an Oxford don
through whom, if it were at all possible, he could reach the author.
The journey to Oxford was made, and Bok was introduced to the don, who
turned out to be no less a person than the original possessor of the
highly colored vocabulary of the "White Rabbit" of the Alice stories.
"Impossible," immediately declared the don. "You couldn't persuade
Dodgson to consider it." Bok, however, persisted, and it so happened
that the don liked what he called "American perseverance."
"Well, come along," he said. "We'll beard the lion in his den, as you
say, and see what happens. You know, of course, that it is the
Reverend Charles L. Dodgson that we are going to see, and I must
introduce you to that person, not to Lewis Carroll. He is a tutor in
mathematics here, as you doubtless know; lives a rigidly secluded life;
dislikes strangers; makes no friends; and yet withal is one of the most
delightful men in the world if he wants to be."
But as it happened upon this special occasion when Bok was introduced
to him in his chambers in Tom Quad, Mr. Dodgson did not "want to be"
delightful. There was no doubt that back of the studied reserve was a
kindly, charming, gracious gentleman, but Bok's profession had been
mentioned and the author was on rigid guard.
When Bok explained that one of the special reasons for his journey from
America was to see him, the Oxford mathematician sufficiently softened
to ask the editor to sit down. Bok then broached his mission.
"You are quite in error, Mr. Bok," was the Dodgson comment. "You are
not speaking to the person you think you are addressing."
For a moment Bok was taken aback. Then he decided to go right to the
point.
"Do I understand, Mr. Dodgson, that you are not 'Lewis Carroll'; that
you did not write _Alice in Wonderland_?"
For an answer the tutor rose, went into another room, and returned with
a book which he handed to Bok. "This is my book," he said simply. It
was entitled _An Elementary Treatise on Determinants_, by C. L.
Dodgson. When he looked up, Bok found the author's eyes riveted on him.
"Yes," said Bok. "I know, Mr. Dodgson. If I remember correctly, this
is the same book of which you sent a copy to Her Majesty, Queen
Victoria, when she wrote to you for a personal copy of your _Alice_."
Dodgson made no comment. The face was absolutely without expression
save a kindly compassion intended to convey to the editor that he was
making a terrible mistake.
"As I said to you in the beginning, Mr. Bok, you are in error. You are
not speaking to 'Lewis Carroll.'" And then: "Is this the first time
you have visited Oxford?"
Bok said it was; and there followed the most delightful two hours with
the Oxford mathematician and the Oxford don, walking about and into the
wonderful college buildings, and afterward the three had a bite of
lunch together. But all efforts to return to "Lewis Carroll" were
futile. While saying good-by to his host, Bok remarked:
"I can't help expressing my disappointment, Mr. Dodgson, in my quest in
behalf of the thousands of American children who love you and who would
so gladly welcome 'Lewis Carroll' back."
The mention of children and their love for him momentarily had its
effect. For an instant a different light came into the eyes, and Bok
instinctively realized Dodgson was about to say something. But he
checked himself. Bok had almost caught him off his guard.
"I am sorry," he finally said at the parting at the door, "that you
should be disappointed, for the sake of the children as well as for
your own sake. I only regret that I cannot remove the disappointment."
As they later walked to the station, the don said: "That is his
attitude toward all, even toward me. He is not 'Lewis Carroll' to any
one; is extremely sensitive on the point, and will not acknowledge his
identity. That is why he lives so much to himself. He is in daily
dread that some one will mention _Alice_ in his presence. Curious, but
there it is."
Edward Bok's next quest was to be even more disappointing; he was never
even to reach the presence of the person he sought. This was Florence
Nightingale, the Crimean nurse. Bok was desirous of securing her own
story of her experiences, but on every hand he found an unwillingness
even to take him to her house. "No use," said everybody. "She won't
see any one. Hates publicity and all that sort of thing, and shuns the
public." Nevertheless, the editor journeyed to the famous nurse's home
on South Street, in the West End of London, only to be told that "Miss
Nightingale never receives strangers."
"But I am not a stranger," insisted the editor. "I am one of her
friends from America. Please take my card to her."
This mollified the faithful secretary, but the word instantly came back
that Miss Nightingale was not receiving any one that day. Bok wrote
her a letter asking for an appointment, which was never answered. Then
he wrote another, took it personally to the house, and awaited an
answer, only to receive the message that "Miss Nightingale says there
is no answer to the letter."
Bok had with such remarkable uniformity secured whatever he sought,
that these experiences were new to him. Frankly, they puzzled him. He
was not easily baffled, but baffled he now was, and that twice in
succession. Turn as he might, he could find no way in which to reopen
an approach to either the Oxford tutor or the Crimean nurse. They were
plainly too much for him, and he had to acknowledge his defeat. The
experience was good for him; he did not realize this at the time, nor
did he enjoy the sensation of not getting what he wanted.
Nevertheless, a reverse or two was due. Not that his success was
having any undesirable effect upon him; his Dutch common sense saved
him from any such calamity. But at thirty years of age it is not good
for any one, no matter how well balanced, to have things come his way
too fast and too consistently. And here were breaks. He could not
have everything he wanted, and it was just as well that he should find
that out.
In his next quest he found himself again opposed by his London friends.
Unable to secure a new _Alice in Wonderland_ for his child readers, he
determined to give them Kate Greenaway. But here he had selected
another recluse. Everybody discouraged him. The artist never saw
visitors, he was told, and she particularly shunned editors and
publishers. Her own publishers confessed that Miss Greenaway was
inaccessible to them. "We conduct all our business with her by
correspondence. I have never seen her personally myself," said a
member of the firm.
Bok inwardly decided that two failures in two days were sufficient, and
he made up his mind that there should not be a third. He took a bus
for the long ride to Hampstead Heath, where the illustrator lived, and
finally stood before a picturesque Queen Anne house that one would have
recognized at once, with its lower story of red brick, its upper part
covered with red tiles, its windows of every size and shape, as the
inspiration of Kate Greenaway's pictures. As it turned out later, Miss
Greenaway's sister opened the door and told the visitor that Miss
Greenaway was not at home.
"But, pardon me, has not Miss Greenaway returned? Is not that she?"
asked Bok, as he indicated a figure just coming down the stairs. And
as the sister turned to see, Bok stepped into the hall. At least he
was inside! Bok had never seen a photograph of Miss Greenaway, he did
not know that the figure coming down-stairs was the artist; but his
instinct had led him right, and good fortune was with him.
He now introduced himself to Kate Greenaway, and explained that one of
his objects in coming to London was to see her on behalf of thousands
of American children. Naturally there was nothing for the illustrator
to do but to welcome her visitor. She took him into the garden, where
he saw at once that he was seated under the apple-tree of Miss
Greenaway's pictures. It was in full bloom, a veritable picture of
spring loveliness. Bok's love for nature pleased the artist and when
he recognized the cat that sauntered up, he could see that he was
making head-way. But when he explained his profession and stated his
errand, the atmosphere instantly changed. Miss Greenaway conveyed the
unmistakable impression that she had been trapped, and Bok realized at
once that he had a long and difficult road ahead.
Still, negotiate it he must and he did! And after luncheon in the
garden, with the cat in his lap, Miss Greenaway perceptibly thawed out,
and when the editor left late that afternoon he had the promise of the
artist that she would do her first magazine work for him. That promise
was kept monthly, and for nearly two years her articles appeared, with
satisfaction to Miss Greenaway and with great success to the magazine.
Bok now devoted his attention to strengthening the fiction in his
magazine. He sought Mark Twain, and bought his two new stories; he
secured from Bret Harte a tale which he had just finished, and then ran
the gamut of the best fiction writers of the day, and secured their
best output. Marion Crawford, Conan Doyle, Sarah Orne Jewett, John
Kendrick Bangs, Kate Douglas Wiggin, Hamlin Garland, Mrs. Burton
Harrison, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, Mary E. Wilkins, Jerome K. Jerome,
Anthony Hope, Joel Chandler Harris, and others followed in rapid
succession.
He next turned for a moment to his religious department, decided that
it needed a freshening of interest, and secured Dwight L. Moody, whose
evangelical work was then so prominently in the public eye, to conduct
"Mr. Moody's Bible Class" in the magazine--practically a study of the
stated Bible lesson of the month with explanation in Moody's simple and
effective style.
The authors for whom the _Journal_ was now publishing attracted the
attention of all the writers of the day, and the supply of good
material became too great for its capacity. Bok studied the mechanical
make-up, and felt that by some method he must find more room in the
front portion. He had allotted the first third of the magazine to the
general literary contents and the latter two-thirds to departmental
features. Toward the close of the number, the departments narrowed
down from full pages to single columns with advertisements on each side.
One day Bok was handling a story by Rudyard Kipling which had overrun
the space allowed for it in the front. The story had come late, and
the rest of the front portion of the magazine had gone to press. The
editor was in a quandary what to do with the two remaining columns of
the Kipling tale. There were only two pages open, and these were at
the back. He remade those pages, and continued the story from pages 6
and 7 to pages 38 and 39.
At once Bok saw that this was an instance where "necessity was the
mother of invention." He realized that if he could run some of his
front material over to the back he would relieve the pressure at the
front, present a more varied contents there, and make his
advertisements more valuable by putting them next to the most expensive
material in the magazine.
In the next issue he combined some of his smaller departments in the
back; and thus, in 1896, he inaugurated the method of "running over
into the back" which has now become a recognized principle in the
make-up of magazines of larger size. At first, Bok's readers objected,
but he explained why he did it; that they were the benefiters by the
plan; and, so far as readers can be satisfied with what is, at best, an
awkward method of presentation, they were content. To-day the practice
is undoubtedly followed to excess, some magazines carrying as much as
eighty and ninety columns over from the front to the back; from such
abuse it will, of course, free itself either by a return to the
original method of make-up or by the adoption of some other less
irritating plan.
In his reading about the America of the past, Bok had been impressed by
the unusual amount of interesting personal material that constituted
what is termed unwritten history--original events of tremendous
personal appeal in which great personalities figured but which had not
sufficient historical importance to have been included in American
history. Bok determined to please his older readers by harking back to
the past and at the same time acquainting the younger generation with
the picturesque events which had preceded their time.
He also believed that if he could "dress up" the past, he could arrest
the attention of a generation which was too likely to boast of its
interest only in the present and the future. He took a course of
reading and consulted with Mr. Charles A. Dana, editor of the _New York
Sun_, who had become interested in his work and had written him several
voluntary letters of commendation. Mr. Dana gave material help in the
selection of subjects and writers; and was intensely amused and
interested by the manner in which his youthful confrère "dressed up"
the titles of what might otherwise have looked like commonplace
articles.
"I know," said Bok to the elder editor, "it smacks a little of the
sensational, Mr. Dana, but the purpose I have in mind of showing the
young people of to-day that some great things happened before they came
on the stage seems to me to make it worth while."
Mr. Dana agreed with this view, supplemented every effort of the
Philadelphia editor in several subsequent talks, and in 1897 _The
Ladies' Home Journal_ began one of the most popular series it ever
published. It was called "Great Personal Events," and the picturesque
titles explained them. He first pictured the enthusiastic evening
"When Jenny Lind Sang in Castle Garden," and, as Bok added to pique
curiosity, "when people paid $20 to sit in rowboats to hear the Swedish
nightingale."
This was followed by an account of the astonishing episode "When Henry
Ward Beecher Sold Slaves in Plymouth Pulpit"; the picturesque journey
"When Louis Kossuth Rode Up Broadway"; the triumphant tour "When
General Grant Went Round the World"; the forgotten story of "When an
Actress Was the Lady of the White House"; the sensational striking of
the rich silver vein "When Mackay Struck the Great Bonanza"; the
hitherto little-known instance "When Louis Philippe Taught School in
Philadelphia"; and even the lesser-known fact of the residence of the
brother of Napoleon Bonaparte in America, "When the King of Spain Lived
on the Banks of the Schuylkill"; while the story of "When John Wesley
Preached in Georgia" surprised nearly every Methodist, as so few had
known that the founder of their church had ever visited America. Each
month picturesque event followed graphic happening, and never was
unwritten history more readily read by the young, or the memories of
the older folk more catered to than in this series which won new
friends for the magazine on every hand.