_New Plans_
With the end of the school year Tom and Helen were able to give their
complete time and energies to the _Herald_. When Monday, the first of
June arrived, they were working on their fourth issue of the _Herald_ and
Helen had written a number of stories on the last week's activities at
school, the graduation exercises, the junior-senior dinner and the senior
class play. She praised Miss Weeks highly for her work with the class
play and lauded the seniors for their fine acting. Although urged that
she say something about her own part, Helen steadfastly refused and her
brother finally gave up in disgust and delved in to the ledger for on his
shoulders fell the task of making out the monthly bills and handling all
of the business details of the paper.
When Tom had completed his bookkeeping he turned to his sister.
"Helen," he began, "we're not making enough."
"But, Tom," she protested, "the paper is carrying more advertising than
when Dad ran it."
"Yes, but our expenses are high," said Tom. "We've got to look ahead all
the time. Dad will have used all of the money he took with him in a
little less than six months. After that it will be up to us to have the
cash in the bank. Right now we've just a little under a hundred dollars
in the bank. Current bills will take more than that, and our own living
expenses, that is for mother and we two, will run at least $100 a month.
With our total income from the paper only slightly more than $200 a month
on the basis of the present amount of advertising, you see we're not
going to be able to save much toward helping Dad."
"Then we'll have to find ways of increasing our volume of business," said
Helen.
"That won't be easy to do in a town this size," replied Tom, "and I won't
go out and beg for advertising."
"No one is going to ask you to," said Helen. "We'll make the _Herald_
such a bright, outstanding paper that all of the business men will want
to advertise."
"We'll do the best we can," agreed Tom.
"Then let's start right now by putting in a farm page," suggested Helen.
"But there won't be many farm sales from now on," argued Tom.
"No," conceded his sister, "but there is haying, threshing and then corn
picking and all of the stores have supplies to sell to the farmers."
"I believe you're right. If you'll do the collecting this afternoon, I'll
go down to Gladbrook and see if we can get the cooperation of the county
agent. Lots of the townships near here have farm bureaus and I'll get the
names of all of their leaders and we'll write and tell them what we plan
to do."
After lunch Tom teased the family flivver into motion and set out for
Gladbrook while Helen took the sheaf of bills and started the rounds of
the business houses. She had no trouble getting her money from all of the
regular advertisers and in every store in which she stopped she took care
to ask the owner about news of the store and of his family. She noticed
that it flattered each one and she resolved to call on them at least once
a week.
Tom returned from Gladbrook late in the afternoon. He was enthusiastic
over the success of his talk with the county agent.
"He's a fine chap," Tom explained. "Had a course in agricultural
journalism in college and knows news and how to write it. The Gladbrook
papers, the _News_ and the _Times_, don't come up in this section of the
county and he'll be only too glad to send us a column each week."
"When will he start?"
"Next week will be the first one. He'll mail his column every Tuesday
evening and we'll have it on the Wednesday morning mail. Now, here's even
better news. I went to several of the department stores at Gladbrook and
told them we were going to put out a real farm page. They're actually
anxious to buy space and by driving down there once a week I can get two
or three good ads."
"How will the local merchants feel?" asked Helen.
"They won't object," replied Tom, "for I was careful to stress that I
would only accept copy which would not conflict with that used by our
local stores."
"That was a wise thing to do," Helen said. "We can't afford to antagonize
our local advertisers. I made the rounds and collected all of the regular
accounts. There's only about eighteen dollars outstanding on this month's
bills and I'll get all but about five dollars of that before the week is
over."
"Want to go to Cranston Friday or Saturday?" asked Tom.
"I surely do," Helen replied. "But what for, Tom, and can we afford it?"
"One of us will have to make the trip," her brother said. "Putting on
this farm page means we'll have to print two more pages at home, six
altogether, and will need only two pages of ready-print a week from the
World Printing Company. We'll go down and talk with their manager at
Cranston and select the features we want for the two pages they will
continue to print for us."
"Our most important features in the ready-print now are the comics, the
serial story and the fashion news for women," said Helen.
"Then we'll have one page of comics," said Tom, "and fill the other page
with features of special interest to our women readers."
The next three days found the young Blairs so busy getting out the
current edition of the paper that they had little time to talk about
their plans.
They had decided to go to Cranston Friday but when Helen found that there
were special rates for Saturday, they postponed the trip one day. When
the Friday morning mail arrived, Helen was glad they had changed their
plans. While sorting the handful of letters, most of them circulars
destined for the wastepaper basket, she came upon the letter she had been
looking forward to for days. The words in the upper left hand corner
thrilled her. It was from the Cranston bureau of the Associated Press.
With fingers that trembled slightly, she tore it open. Would she get the
job as Rolfe correspondent? A green slip dropped out of the envelope and
Tom, who had come in from the composing room, reached down and picked it
up.
"Ten dollars!" he whistled.
"What's that?" demanded Helen, incredulously.
"It's your check from the Associated Press for covering the tornado,"
explained Tom. "Look!"
Helen took the slip of crisp, green paper. She wasn't dreaming. It was a
check, made out in her name and for $10.
"But there must be some mistake," she protested. "They didn't mean to pay
me that much."
"If you think there's a mistake," grinned Tom, "you can go and see them
when we reach Cranston tomorrow. However, if I were you, I'd tuck it in
my pocket, invite my brother across the street to the drug store, and buy
him a big ice cream soda."
"Wait until I see what the letter says," replied Helen. She pulled it out
of the envelope and Tom leaned over to read it with her.
"Dear Miss Blair," it started, "enclosed you will find check for your
fine work in reporting the tornado near Rolfe. Please consider this
letter as your appointment as Rolfe correspondent for the Associated
Press. Serious accidents, fires of more than $5,000 damage and deaths of
prominent people should be sent as soon as possible. Telegraph or
telephone, sending all your messages collect. In using the telegraph,
send messages by press rate collect when the story is filed in the
daytime. If at night, send them night press collect. And remember, speed
counts but accuracy must come first. Stories of a feature or time nature
should be mailed. We are counting on you to protect us on all news that
breaks in and near Rolfe. Very truly yours, Alva McClintock,
Correspondent in charge of the Cranston Bureau."
"He certainly said a lot in a few words," was Tom's comment. "Now you're
one up on me. You're editor of the _Herald_ and Associated Press
correspondent and I'm only business manager."
"Don't get discouraged," laughed Helen, "I'll let you write some of the
Associated Press stories."
"Thanks of the compliment," grinned Tom. "I'm still waiting for that ice
cream soda, Miss Plutocrat."
"You'll grumble until I buy it, I suppose, so I might as well give in
right now," said Helen. "Come on. I'm hungry for one myself."
Tom and Helen boarded the nine forty-five Saturday morning and arrived at
the state capital shortly after noon. It was Helen's first trip to
Cranston and she enjoyed every minute of it, the noise and confusion of
the great railroad terminal, the endless bobbing about of the red caps,
the cries of news boys heralding noonday editions and the ceaseless roar
of the city.
They went into the large restaurant at the station for lunch and after
that Tom inquired at the information desk for directions on how to reach
the plant of the World Printing Company. He copied the information on a
slip of paper and the two young newspaper people boarded a street car.
Half an hour later they were on the outskirts of the industrial district
and even before the conductor called their stop, Tom heard the steady
roar of great presses.
"Here we are," he told Helen as they stepped down from the car and looked
up at a hulking ten story building that towered above them.
"The Cranston plant of the _Rolfe Herald_," chuckled Helen. "Lead on."
They walked up the steps into the office, gave their names and indicated
their business to the office girl. After waiting a few minutes they were
ushered into an adjoining office where an energetic, middle aged man who
introduced himself as Henry Walker, service manager, greeted them.
"Let's see, you're from the _Rolfe Herald_?" he asked.
"My sister and I are running the paper while Dad is in the southwest
regaining his health," explained Tom. "We've got to expand the paper to
increase our advertising space and the only thing we can see to do is cut
down our ready-print to two pages."
"Explain just what you mean," suggested the service manager.
Tom outlined their advertising field and how they hoped to increase
business by adding two more pages of home print, one of which would be
devoted to farm advertising and news and the other to be available for
whatever additional advertising they could produce.
"We'll be sorry to have you drop two pages of ready-print," said Mr.
Walker, "but I believe you're doing the right thing. Now let's see what
you want on the two pages you'll retain."
"Helen is editor," Tom explained, "and it's up to her to pick out what
she wants."
"You're doing a splendid job on the _Herald_," the service manager told
Helen. "I get copies of every paper we serve and I've been noticing the
changes in make-up and the lively stories. However, I am sorry to hear
about your father but with you two youngsters to give him pep and courage
he ought to be back on the job in a few months."
"We're sure he will," smiled Helen as she unfolded a copy of their last
edition of the _Herald_. "I've pasted up two pages of the features I want
to retain," she explained as she placed them in front of the service
manager.
"I see," he said. "You're going to be quite metropolitan with a full page
of comics and a page devoted to women. I'm glad of that. Too many editors
of weeklies fail to realize that the women and not the men are the real
readers of their papers. If you run a paper which appeals to women and
children you'll have a winner. Comics for the youngsters and a serial
story with a strong love element and fashions and style news for the
women."
"How about cost?" asked Tom.
"Dropping the two pages won't quite cut your bill with us in half,"
explained Mr. Walker, "for you're retaining all of our most expensive
features. However, this new plan of yours will reduce your weekly bill
about 40 per cent."
"That's satisfactory," agreed Tom, "and we'd like to have it effective at
once. Helen has written the headings she wants for each page."
"We'll send the pages, made up in the new way, down at the usual time
next week," promised the service manager, "and when there is anything
else we can do, don't hesitate to let us know."
When they were out of the building, they paused to decide what to do
next.
"I liked Mr. Walker," said Helen. "He didn't attempt to keep us from
making the change. It means less money for his company yet he didn't
object."
"It was good business on his part," replied Tom. "Now we feel kindly
toward him and although he has lost temporarily he will gain in the end
for we'll give him every bit of business we can in the way of ordering
supplies for job printing and extra stock for the paper."
"If we have time," suggested Helen, "I'd like to go down to the
Associated Press office."
"Good idea," agreed Tom. "I'd like to see how they handle all of the
news."
They boarded the first down town street car and got off fifteen minutes
later in the heart of Cranston's loop district. Across the street was the
building which housed the _Cranston Chronicle_, the largest daily
newspaper in the state. They consulted the directory in the lobby of the
building and took the elevator to the fifth floor where the Associated
Press offices were located.
They stepped out of the elevator and into a large room, filled with the
clatter of many machines. A boy, his face smeared with blue smudges off
carbon paper, rushed up to them and inquired their business.
"I'm Helen Blair, a new correspondent at Rolfe," explained the editor of
the _Herald_, "and I'd like to see Mr. McClintock, the chief
correspondent."
"Okay," grinned the boy. "I'll tell him. You wait here."
The youngster hurried across the room to a large table, shaped like a
half moon and behind which sat a touseled haired chap of indeterminate
age. He might be 30 and he might be 40, decided Helen.
"Glad to know you, Miss Blair," he said. "You did a nice piece of work on
the storm."
"Thank you, Mr. McClintock," replied Helen. "But my brother, Tom,
deserves all of the credit. He suggested calling the story to you."
"Then I'll thank Tom, too," laughed the head of the Cranston bureau of
the Associated Press.
"We're here today on business for our paper," explained Helen, "and with
a few minutes to spare before train time hoped you wouldn't mind if we
came in and saw how the 'wheels go round' here."
"I'll be happy to show you the 'works'," replied Mr. McClintock, and he
took them over to a battery of electric printers.
"These," he explained, "bring us news from every part of the country,
east, south and far west. In reality, they are electric typewriters
controlled from the sending station in some other city. We take the news
which comes in here, sift it out and decide what will interest people in
our own state, and send it on to daily papers in our territory."
"Do these electric printers run all day?" asked Tom.
"Some of them go day and night," continued Mr. McClintock, "for the A.P.
never sleeps. Whenever news breaks, we've got to be ready to cover it.
That's why we appreciated your calling us on the storm. We knew there was
trouble in your part of the state but we didn't have a correspondent at
Rolfe. It was a mighty pleasant surprise when you phoned."
They visited with the Associated Press man for another fifteen minutes
and would have continued longer if Tom had not realized that they had
less than twenty minutes to make their train. The last two blocks to the
terminal were covered at a run and they raced through the train gates
just before they clanged shut.
"Close call," panted Tom as they swung onto the steps of the local and it
slid out of the train shed.
"Too close," agreed Helen, who was breathless from their dash.
"Had to make it, though," added Tom, "or we'd have been stranded here
flat broke with the next train for home Monday night."
"Don't worry about something that didn't happen," Helen said. "I've
enjoyed every minute of our trip and we're all ready now to start our
expansion program for the _Herald_ in earnest."
Adding two more pages of home print to the paper meant more work than
either Tom or Helen had realized. There was more news to be written and
more ads to be set and another run to be made on the press.
With early June at hand the summer season at the resorts on the lower end
of Lake Dubar got under way and Helen resolved to make a trip at least
once a week and run a column or two of personals about people coming and
going. She also gave liberal space to the good roads election in July,
stressing the value the paved scenic highway would be to Rolfe.
The two pages of ready-print arrived on Tuesday and Tom and Helen were
delighted with the appearance of the comic page and the feature page for
women readers.
"We'll have the snappiest looking paper in the county," chuckled Tom.
"Dad won't know the old paper when he sees this week's issue."
The county agent kept his promise to send them at least a column of farm
news and Helen made it a point to gather all she could while Tom went to
the county seat Tuesday morning and solicited ads for the page. The
result was a well-balanced page, half ads and half news. Careful
solicitation of home town merchants also brought additional ads and when
they made up the last two pages Thursday noon they felt the extra work
which increasing the size of the paper meant was more than repaid in
extra advertising.
"I'm printing a number of extra copies this week," explained Tom. "There
are lots of people around here who ought to take the _Herald_. With our
expansion program we may pick up some extra subscriptions and we might
get a chance at the county printing."
"Tom!" exclaimed Helen. "Do you really think we might get to be an
official county paper."
"I don't see why not," said Tom. "Of course the two Gladbrook papers will
always be on the county list but there are always three who print the
legal news and the third one is the _Auburn Advocate_. Auburn isn't any
larger than Rolfe and I know darned well we have almost as many
subscriptions as they do."
"How do they decide the official papers?" Helen wanted to know.
"The county board of supervisors meets once a year to select the three
official papers," Tom explained, "and the three showing the largest
circulation are selected. It would mean at least $2,000 extra revenue to
us, most of which would be profit."
"Then why didn't Dad try for it?" Helen asked.
"I'm not sure," said Tom slowly. "There are probably several reasons, the
principal one being that he wasn't strong enough to make the additional
effort to build up the circulation list. The other is probably Burr
Atwell, owner and publisher of the _Auburn Advocate_. I've heard Dad
often remark that Atwell is the crookedest newspaperman in the state."
"How much circulation do you think the _Advocate_ has now?" Helen asked.
"Their last postoffice statement showed only 108 more than ours," replied
Tom.
"And when do the supervisors have their annual meeting?"
"About the 15th of December," said Tom. "Now what's up?"
"Nothing much," smiled Helen. "Only, when the supervisors meet next the
_Rolfe Herald_ is going to have enough circulation to be named an
official county paper.
"Why Tom," she went on enthusiastically, "think what it would mean to
Dad?"
"I'm thinking of that," nodded her brother, "but I'm also thinking of
what Burr Atwell might do to the _Herald_."