The Bread Line Part 9

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 gla.s.ses 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 pa.s.sed 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 ma.n.u.script 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 ma.n.u.script 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 ma.n.u.script 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 G.o.ddess 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 ma.n.u.script 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 a.s.sessment, 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 advertis.e.m.e.nts 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 s.p.a.ce 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 inst.i.tutions you have planned. You are very n.o.ble, 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. G.o.d 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 s.p.a.ce 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.