The Bread Line: A Story of a Paper

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.

"Too tappy," he said. "We want to land on the solar plexus every time. Why not call it 'world-beating,' or – "

"Now you're talking sense!" interrupted Barrifield. "That's better than a dictionary. 'The great, world-beating "Whole Family" watch! Stem-winding and – setting! Full-jeweled! Diamond balance! Eighteen – '"

"Hold on, Barry; I can't get it down."

Perner was scribbling rapidly. "And what does 'diamond balance' mean?"

"Never mind what it means. It sounds rich, and that's what we want."

"Don't you think we ought to have in something about the escapement?" asked Livingstone. "All watches have escapements, don't they?"

"Why, yes," nodded Van Dorn, – "cylinder escapement – duplex action – "

Perner interrupted:

"Oh, nonsense, Van! It's the camera that has duplex action."

"'Tisn't, either – it's the watch!"

"Oh, well, let's give it to the camera, anyway," compromised Barrifield. "We've got enough for the watch. How does it read now, Perny?"

Perner added a few more lines to what he had already written, then, leaning back in his chair, read slowly and with emphasis:

"OUR MAGNIFICENT PREMIUM OFFERS

"In addition to giving you our superb paper at the unheard-of price of one dollar a year for fifty-two issues, we make to the entire world the following supreme premium offers:

"I think," Perner paused to comment, "that that goes a few degrees better than Frisby. Here's what he says."

He picked up a copy of a paper that gave evidence of having had much careful reading and even commentary study.

"Never mind Frisby," objected Van Dorn. "We know that by heart. Let's hear what you say."

"All right," cheerfully assented Perner.

"OFFER NO. 1

"Our splendid paper, 'The Whole Family,' for one year, fifty-two issues, and our great world-beating, stem-winding and – setting, cylinder-escapement, diamond-balance, crown-jeweled watch! Worth, both together, five dollars in gold! Given by us, until present limited quantity is exhausted, for the mere ridiculous bagatelle of

"ONE DOLLAR!

"and twenty-five cents to pay for postage and packing."

Perner paused and caught his breath. Then he added:

"The last line, of course, will be in small type, so it won't seem to count. It's the dollar that will catch them. And what do you think of 'crown-jeweled'? Wasn't that an inspiration? You see, 'full-jeweled' means a certain number, and we don't want to deceive anybody, while 'crown-jeweled' means just jewels, because any kind of jewels are suitable for a crown."

Perner regarded them triumphantly. Barrifield and Livingstone murmured assent.

"Yes, that was a great stroke," agreed Van Dorn; "but I object to the 'mere ridiculous bagatelle.'"

Perner looked injured. It was evident that he valued this form.

"You see, they'll think it means another premium – something they don't get," Van Dorn continued.

"Yes; sounds like a game I used to have," suggested Livingstone.

Barrifield nodded dreamily, while Perner scratched out the offending words.

"You fellows are such good hands to find fault with what I do," he complained, "why don't you do something yourselves?"

"Give me the pencil and paper, then," commanded Van Dorn. Perner surrendered the articles with dignity, and for some moments the artist wrote busily.

"Now," he exclaimed at last, "how does this sound?

"OFFER NO. 2

"Paper, same as you had, Perny, and

"our marvelous cracker-jack, kodak, double-rack, swing-back camera – "

"Bully!" shouted Livingstone, "that's a regular college yell!"

"Of course – that's what we want!" Van Dorn acknowledged eagerly. "That'll make every college boy want one!"

Perner assented, but he did not look altogether happy. Perhaps he felt that he had been defeated by a maker of pictures in what was properly a literary undertaking.

"Now let Barry and Stony do the gun and the Bible," he said wearily. "I'm tired."

The door opened just then, and Colonel Hazard entered. In spite of his disreputable clothing, he possessed considerable dignity and a manner calculated to inspire in those about him something akin to confidence. It was, perhaps, this very quality that had been from time to time the downfall of himself and others. The stream of Pactolus had flowed often at his touch, though only to waste its golden waters in treacherous sands and unseen pitfalls. Nevertheless, he had retained what was even more precious – hope and unfailing good nature. It is true Bates had provoked him to wrath, but then, Bates's manner had been exceptional.

"You're just the man we want to see, Colonel," called Van Dorn, as he entered.

"We're getting up our ads. Come and help us."

The Colonel was always willing and courteous. He cleared his throat and came forward smiling.

"Certainly, gentlemen. I think I may really be able to assist you somewhat. When I was business manager of the 'Family Post' in its palmy days I always arranged my own advertising copy. I remember once of running the circulation up something like two hundred thousand on a single feature I introduced. Also, when I was editor-in-chief of the 'Saturday Globe' they often came to me for such things. It is quite an art, I assure you. May I be allowed to consider what you have already done?"

The work, so far as completed, was exhibited and read aloud for his delectation.

"Very good, gentlemen, very good indeed," he assented, when they had finished. "You have also made careful selection, no doubt, of the periodicals in which these advertisements are to appear. A great deal depends on the choice of proper mediums. For instance, you would not wish to offer the gun in a ladies' journal, nor, from a business standpoint, the Bible in a sportsmen's magazine, however commendable such a course might appear from a moral point of view. You see, gentlemen, I speak from long and dearly bought experience, and these matters are worth considering."

"But Bates attends to all that," said Perner. "He knows the best places to advertise better than we do, and can get better prices. Wouldn't you think so?"

The face of the Colonel grew almost stern.

"I do not wish, gentlemen, to interfere in any of your plans," he said with some dignity, "and you must excuse me if I do not coincide with your opinions concerning my colleague, Mr. Joseph Bates. He impresses me as merely a boasting, unscrupulous fellow when he is sober, and a maudlin Ananias when he's intoxicated. In neither condition do I consider him trustworthy."

"By gad! nor I, either!" declared Livingstone.

"Oh, come, now," protested Barrifield, laughing lazily. "You fellows are down on Bates because he drinks. Why, some of the smartest men we ever had in this country were the hardest drinkers."

"Rather in spite of it than because of it, however, I fancy," smiled the Colonel. "If I were employing men I should hardly regard inebriety as an evidence of either superior intelligence or moral integrity. Personally, I have no respect for my colleague, – no respect whatever, – though, as long as he remains such, I shall treat him with the courtesy due to his position."

There was something about the Colonel's manner that commanded sufficient respect for himself to prevent the laughter which his appearance and remarks might otherwise have encouraged. With his assistance the proprietors of the "Whole Family" proceeded with the descriptions of the gun and the Bible. They had finished and Colonel Hazard had arisen to go when Bates himself entered. He was unsteady on his feet, and paused for a moment to regard the Colonel with drunken scorn. Then he made a motion toward a chair, lurched heavily, barely saved himself by grasping the table, and stood swaying like an inverted pendulum. The Colonel hesitated for an instant, then with a deft motion he pushed a chair behind the oscillating figure.

"Allow me, Mr. Bates. Good evening, gentlemen." And with a stately bow he passed out just as the helpless Bates sank into the chair thus thoughtfully provided by his enemy, and was saved. Once in the chair, he partially recovered and found speech.