Mr. Beecher's weekly newspaper "syndicate" letter was not only
successful in itself, it made liberal money for the writer and for its
two young publishers, but it served to introduce Edward Bok's proposed
agency to the newspapers under the most favorable conditions. With one
stroke, the attention of newspaper editors had been attracted, and
Edward concluded to take quick advantage of it. He organized the Bok
Syndicate Press, with offices in New York, and his brother, William J.
Bok, as partner and active manager. Edward's days were occupied, of
course, with his duties in the Holt publishing house, where he was
acquiring a first-hand knowledge of the business.
Edward's attention was now turned, for the first time, to women and
their reading habits. He became interested in the fact that the American
woman was not a newspaper reader. He tried to find out the psychology of
this, and finally reached the conclusion, on looking over the
newspapers, that the absence of any distinctive material for women was a
factor. He talked the matter over with several prominent New York
editors, who frankly acknowledged that they would like nothing better
than to interest women, and make them readers of their papers. But they
were equally frank in confessing that they were ignorant both of what
women wanted, and, even if they knew, of where such material was to be
had. Edward at once saw that here was an open field. It was a productive
field, since, as woman was the purchasing power, it would benefit the
newspaper enormously in its advertising if it could offer a feminine
clientele.
There was a bright letter of New York gossip published in the New York
Star, called "Bab's Babble." Edward had read it, and saw the possibility
of syndicating this item as a woman's letter from New York. He
instinctively realized that women all over the country would read it. He
sought out the author, made arrangements with her and with former
Governor Dorscheimer, owner of the paper, and the letter was sent out to
a group of papers. It was an instantaneous success, and a syndicate of
ninety newspapers was quickly organized.
Edward followed this up by engaging Ella Wheeler Wilcox, then at the
height of her career, to write a weekly letter on women's topics. This
he syndicated in conjunction with the other letter, and the editors
invariably grouped the two letters. This, in turn, naturally led to the
idea of supplying an entire page of matter of interest to women. The
plan was proposed to a number of editors, who at once saw the
possibilities in it and promised support. The young syndicator now laid
under contribution all the famous women writers of the day; he chose the
best of the men writers to write on women's topics; and it was not long
before the syndicate was supplying a page of women's material. The
newspapers played up the innovation, and thus was introduced into the
newspaper press of the United States the "Woman's Page."
The material supplied by the Bok Syndicate Press was of the best; the
standard was kept high; the writers were selected from among the most
popular authors of the day; and readability was the cardinal note. The
women bought the newspapers containing the new page, the advertiser
began to feel the presence of the new reader, and every newspaper that
could not get the rights for the "Bok Page," as it came to be known,
started a "Woman's Page" of it own. Naturally, the material so obtained
was of an inferior character. No single newspaper could afford what the
syndicate, with the expense divided among a hundred newspapers, could
pay. Nor had the editors of these woman's pages either a standard or a
policy. In desperation they engaged any person they could to "get a lot
of woman's stuff." It was stuff, and of the trashiest kind. So that
almost coincident with the birth of the idea began its abuse and
disintegration; the result we see in the meaningless presentations which
pass for "woman's pages" in the newspaper of to-day.
This is true even of the woman's material in the leading newspapers, and
the reason is not difficult to find. The average editor has, as a rule,
no time to study the changing conditions of women's interests; his time
is and must be engrossed by the news and editorial pages. He usually
delegates the Sunday "specials" to some editor who, again, has little
time to study the ever-changing women's problems, particularly in these
days, and he relies upon unintelligent advice, or he places his "woman's
page" in the hands of some woman with the comfortable assurance that,
being a woman, she ought to know what interests her sex.
But having given the subject little thought, he attaches minor
importance to the woman's "stuff," regarding it rather in the light of
something that he "must carry to catch the women"; and forthwith he
either forgets it or refuses to give the editor of his woman's page even
a reasonable allowance to spend on her material. The result is, of
course, inevitable: pages of worthless material. There is, in fact, no
part of the Sunday newspaper of to-day upon which so much good and now
expensive white paper is wasted as upon the pages marked for the home,
for women, and for children.
Edward Bok now became convinced, from his book-publishing association,
that if the American women were not reading the newspapers, the American
public, as a whole, was not reading the number of books that it should,
considering the intelligence and wealth of the people, and the cheap
prices at which books were sold. He concluded to see whether he could
not induce the newspapers to give larger and more prominent space to the
news of the book world.
Owing to his constant contact with authors, he was in a peculiarly
fortunate position to know their plans in advance of execution, and he
was beginning to learn the ins and outs of the book-publishing world. He
canvassed the newspapers subscribing to his syndicate features, but
found a disinclination to give space to literary news. To the average
editor, purely literary features held less of an appeal than did the
features for women. Fewer persons were interested in books, they
declared; besides, the publishing houses were not so liberal advertisers
as the department stores. The whole question rested on a commercial
basis.
Edward believed he could convince editors of the public interest in a
newsy, readable New York literary letter, and he prevailed upon the
editor of the New York Star to allow him to supplement the book reviews
of George Parsons Lathrop in that paper by a column of literary chat
called "Literary Leaves." For a number of weeks he continued to write
this department, and confine it to the New York paper, feeling that he
needed the experience for the acquirement of a readable style, and he
wanted to be sure that he had opened a sufficient number of productive
news channels to ensure a continuous flow of readable literary
information.
Occasionally he sent to an editor here and there what he thought was a
particularly newsy letter just "for his information, not for sale." The
editor of the Philadelphia Times was the first to discover that his
paper wanted the letter, and the Boston Journal followed suit. Then the
editor of the Cincinnati Times-Star discovered the letter in the New
York Star, and asked that it be supplied weekly with the letter. These
newspapers renamed the letter "Bok's Literary Leaves," and the feature
started on its successful career.
Edward had been in the employ of Henry Holt and Company as clerk and
stenographer for two years when Mr. Cary sent for him and told him that
there was an opening in the publishing house of Charles Scribner's Sons,
if he wanted to make a change. Edward saw at once the larger
opportunities possible in a house of the importance of the Scribners,
and he immediately placed himself in communication with Mr. Charles
Scribner, with the result that in January, 1884, he entered the employ
of these publishers as stenographer to the two members of the firm and
to Mr. Edward L. Burlingame, literary adviser to the house. He was to
receive a salary of eighteen dollars and thirty-three cents per week,
which was then considered a fair wage for stenographic work. The
typewriter had at that time not come into use, and all letters were
written in long-hand. Once more his legible handwriting had secured for
him a position.
Edward Bok was now twenty-one years of age. He had already done a
prodigious amount of work for a boy of his years. He was always busy.
Every spare moment of his evenings was devoted either to writing his
literary letter, to the arrangement or editing of articles for his
newspaper syndicate, to the steady acquirement of autograph letters in
which he still persisted, or to helping Mr. Beecher in his literary
work. The Plymouth pastor was particularly pleased with Edward's
successful exploitation of his pen work; and he afterward wrote: "Bok is
the only man who ever seemed to make my literary work go and get money
out of it."
Enterprise and energy the boy unquestionably possessed, but one need
only think back even thus far in his life to see the continuous good
fortune which had followed him in the friendships he had made, and in
the men with whom his life, at its most formative period, had come into
close contact. If we are inclined to credit young Bok with an
ever-willingness to work and a certain quality of initiative, the
influences which played upon him must also be taken into account.
Take, for example, the peculiarly fortuitous circumstances under which
he entered the Scribner publishing house. As stenographer to the two
members of the firm, Bok was immediately brought into touch with the
leading authors of the day, their works as they were discussed in the
correspondence dictated to him, and the authors' terms upon which books
were published. In fact, he was given as close an insight as it was
possible for a young man to get into the inner workings of one of the
large publishing houses in the United States, with a list peculiarly
noted for the distinction of its authors and the broad scope of its
books.
The Scribners had the foremost theological list of all the publishing
houses; its educational list was exceptionally strong; its musical list
excelled; its fiction represented the leading writers of the day; its
general list was particularly noteworthy; and its foreign department,
importing the leading books brought out in Great Britain and Europe, was
an outstanding feature of the business. The correspondence dictated to
Bok covered, naturally, all these fields, and a more remarkable
opportunity for self-education was never offered a stenographer.
Mr. Burlingame was known in the publishing world for his singularly keen
literary appreciation, and was accepted as one of the best judges of
good fiction. Bok entered the Scribner employ as Mr. Burlingame was
selecting the best short stories published within a decade for a set of
books to be called "Short Stories by American Authors." The
correspondence for this series was dictated to Bok, and he decided to
read after Mr. Burlingame and thus get an idea of the best fiction of
the day. So whenever his chief wrote to an author asking for permission
to include his story in the proposed series, Bok immediately hunted up
the story and read it.
Later, when the house decided to start Scribner's Magazine, and Mr.
Burlingame was selected to be its editor, all the preliminary
correspondence was dictated to Bok through his employers, and he
received a firsthand education in the setting up of the machinery
necessary for the publication of a magazine. All this he eagerly
absorbed.
He was again fortunate in that his desk was placed in the advertising
department of the house; and here he found, as manager, an old-time
Brooklyn boy friend with whom he had gone to school: Frank N. Doubleday,
to-day the senior partner of Doubleday, Page and Company. Bok had been
attracted to advertising through his theatre programme and Brooklyn
Magazine experience, and here was presented a chance to learn the art at
first hand and according to the best traditions. So, whenever his
stenographic work permitted, he assisted Mr. Doubleday in preparing and
placing the advertisements of the books of the house.
Mr. Doubleday was just reviving the publication of a house-organ called
The Book Buyer, and, given a chance to help in this, Bok felt he was
getting back into the periodical field, especially since, under Mr.
Doubleday's guidance, the little monthly soon developed into a literary
magazine of very respectable size and generally bookish contents.
The house also issued another periodical, The Presbyterian Review, a
quarterly under the editorship of a board of professors connected with
the Princeton and Union Theological Seminaries. This ponderous-looking
magazine was not composed of what one might call "light reading," and as
the price of a single copy was eighty cents, and the advertisements it
could reasonably expect were necessarily limited in number, the
periodical was rather difficult to move. Thus the whole situation at the
Scribners' was adapted to give Edward an all-round training in the
publishing business. It was an exceptional opportunity.
He worked early and late. An increase in his salary soon told him that
he was satisfying his employers, and then, when the new Scribner's
Magazine appeared, and a little later Mr. Doubleday was delegated to
take charge of the business end of it, Bok himself was placed in charge
of the advertising department, with the publishing details of the two
periodicals on his hands.
He suddenly found himself directing a stenographer instead of being a
stenographer himself. Evidently his apprentice days were over. He had,
in addition, the charge of sending all the editorial copies of the new
books to the press for review, and of keeping a record of those reviews.
This naturally brought to his desk the authors of the house who wished
to see how the press received their works.
The study of the writers who were interested in following the press
notices of their books, and those who were indifferent to them became a
fascinating game to young Bok. He soon discovered that the greater the
author the less he seemed to care about his books once they were
published. Bok noticed this, particularly, in the case of Robert Louis
Stevenson, whose work had attracted him, but, although he used the most
subtle means to inveigle the author into the office to read the press
notices, he never succeeded. Stevenson never seemed to have the
slightest interest in what the press said of his books.
One day Mr. Burlingame asked Bok to take some proofs to Stevenson at his
home; thinking it might be a propitious moment to interest the author in
the popular acclaim that followed the publication of Doctor Jekyll and
Mr. Hyde, Bok put a bunch of press notices in his pocket. He found the
author in bed, smoking his inevitable cigarette.
As the proofs were to be brought back, Bok waited, and thus had an
opportunity for nearly two hours to see the author at work. No man ever
went over his proofs more carefully than did Stevenson; his corrections
were numerous; and sometimes for ten minutes at a time he would sit
smoking and thinking over a single sentence, which, when he had
satisfactorily shaped it in his mind, he would recast on the proof.
Stevenson was not a prepossessing figure at these times. With his sallow
skin and his black dishevelled hair, with finger-nails which had been
allowed to grow very long, with fingers discolored by tobacco--in short,
with a general untidiness that was all his own, Stevenson, so Bok felt,
was an author whom it was better to read than to see. And yet his
kindliness and gentleness more than offset the unattractiveness of his
physical appearance.
After one or two visits from Bok, having grown accustomed to him,
Stevenson would discuss some sentence in an article, or read some
amended paragraph out loud and ask whether Bok thought it sounded
better. To pass upon Stevenson as a stylist was, of course, hardly
within Bok's mental reach, so he kept discreetly silent when Stevenson
asked his opinion.
In fact, Bok reasoned it out that the novelist did not really expect an
answer or an opinion, but was at such times thinking aloud. The mental
process, however, was immensely interesting, particularly when Stevenson
would ask Bok to hand him a book on words lying on an adjacent table.
"So hard to find just the right word," Stevenson would say, and Bok got
his first realization of the truth of the maxim: "Easy writing, hard
reading; hard writing, easy reading."
On this particular occasion when Stevenson finished, Bok pulled out his
clippings, told the author how his book was being received, and was
selling, what the house was doing to advertise it, explained the
forthcoming play by Richard Mansfield, and then offered the press
notices.
Stevenson took the bundle and held it in his hand.
"That's very nice to tell me all you have," he said, "and I have been
greatly interested. But you have really told me all about it, haven't
you, so why should I read these notices? Hadn't I better get busy on
another paper for Mr. Burlingame for the next magazine, else he'll be
after me? You know how impatient these editors are." And he handed back
the notices.
Bok saw it was of no use: Stevenson was interested in his work, but,
beyond a certain point, not in the world's reception of it. Bok's
estimate of the author rose immeasurably. His attitude was in such sharp
contrast to that of others who came almost daily into the office to see
what the papers said, often causing discomfiture to the young
advertising director by insisting upon taking the notices with them. But
Bok always countered this desire by reminding the author that, of
course, in that case he could not quote from these desirable notices in
his advertisements of the book. And, invariably, the notices were left
behind!
It now fell to the lot of the young advertiser to arouse the interest of
the public in what were to be some of the most widely read and
best-known books of the day: Robert Louis Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
Hyde; Frances Hodgson Burnett's Little Lord Fauntleroy; Andrew
Carnegie's Triumphant Democracy; Frank R. Stockton's The Lady, or the
Tiger? and his Rudder Grange, and a succession of other books.
The advertising of these books keenly sharpened the publicity sense of
the developing advertising director. One book could best be advertised
by the conventional means of the display advertisement; another, like
Triumphant Democracy, was best served by sending out to the newspapers a
"broadside" of pungent extracts; public curiosity in a novel like The
Lady, or the Tiger? was, of course, whetted by the publication of
literary notes as to the real denouement the author had in mind in
writing the story. Whenever Mr. Stockton came into the office Bok pumped
him dry as to his experiences with the story, such as when, at a dinner
party, his hostess served an ice-cream lady and a tiger to the author,
and the whole company watched which he chose.
"And which did you choose?" asked the advertising director.
"Et tu, Brute?" Stockton smilingly replied. "Well, I'll tell you. I
asked the butler to bring me another spoon, and then, with a spoon in
each hand, I attacked both the lady and the tiger at the same time."
Once, when Stockton was going to Boston by the night boat, every room
was taken. The ticket agent recognized the author, and promised to get
him a desirable room if the author would tell which he had had in mind,
the lady or the tiger.
"Produce the room," answered Stockton.
The man did. Stockton paid for it, and then said: "To tell you the
truth, my friend, I don't know."
And that was the truth, as Mr. Stockton confessed to his friends. The
idea of the story had fascinated him; when he began it he purposed to
give it a definite ending. But when he reached the end he didn't know
himself which to produce out of the open door, the lady or the tiger,
"and so," he used to explain, "I made up my mind to leave it hanging in
the air."
To the present generation of readers, all this reference to Stockton's
story may sound strange, but for months it was the most talked-of story
of the time, and sold into large numbers.
One day while Mr. Stockton was in Bok's office, A. B. Frost, the
illustrator, came in. Frost had become a full-fledged farmer with one
hundred and twenty acres of Jersey land, and Stockton had a large farm
in the South which was a financial burden to him.
"Well, Stockton," said Frost, "I have found a way at last to make a farm
stop eating up money. Perhaps it will help you."
Stockton was busy writing, but at this bit of hopeful news he looked up,
his eyes kindled, he dropped his pen, and eagerly said:
"Tell me."
And looking behind him to see that the way was clear, Frost answered:
"Pave it solid, old man."
When the stories of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Little Lord Fauntleroy
were made into plays, Bok was given an opportunity for an entirely
different kind of publicity. Both plays were highly successful; they ran
for weeks in succession, and each evening Bok had circulars of the books
in every seat of the theatre; he had a table filled with the books in
the foyer of each theatre; and he bombarded the newspapers with stories
of Mr. Mansfield's method of making the quick change from one character
to the other in the dual role of the Stevenson play, and with anecdotes
about the boy Tommy Russell in Mrs. Burnett's play. The sale of the
books went merrily on, and kept pace with the success of the plays. And
it all sharpened the initiative of the young advertiser and developed
his sense for publicity.
One day while waiting in the anteroom of a publishing house to see a
member of the firm, he picked up a book and began to read it. Since he
had to wait for nearly an hour, he had read a large part of the volume
when he was at last admitted to the private office. When his business
was finished, Bok asked the publisher why this book was not selling.
"I don't know," replied the publisher. "We had great hopes for it, but
somehow or other the public has not responded to it."
"Are you sure you are telling the public about it in the right way?"
ventured Bok.
The Scribner advertising had by this time attracted the attention of the
publishing world, and this publisher was entirely ready to listen to a
suggestion from his youthful caller.
"I wish we published it," said Bok. "I think I could make it a go. It's
all in the book."
"How would you advertise it?" asked the publisher.
Bok promised the publisher he would let him know. He carried with him a
copy of the book, wrote some advertisements for it, prepared an
attractive "broadside" of extracts, to which the book easily lent
itself, wrote some literary notes about it, and sent the whole
collection to the publisher. Every particle of "copy" which Bok had
prepared was used, the book began to sell, and within three months it
was the most discussed book of the day.
The book was Edward Bellamy's "Looking Backward".