“Do you think we can make it pay on that basis, Uncle?” asked Beth.
Uncle John coughed to gain time while he thought of a suitable reply. “That, my dear,” he informed his niece, “will depend upon how many subscribers you can get. Subscribers and advertisers are necessary to make any paper pay.”
“Advertisers!”
“Of course,” said practical Beth. “Every merchant in Millville and Huntingdon will naturally advertise in our paper, and we’ll make the major get us a lot from New York.”
“Oh,” said Patsy; “I see. So that difficulty is settled.”
Arthur smiled, but held his peace. Uncle John’s round face was growing merrier every minute.
“Patsy, do you think we shall make any money from this venture?” asked
Louise.
“We ought to, if we put our hearts and souls into the thing,” was the reply. “But before we divide any profits we must pay back to Uncle John the original investment.”
“We don’t especially care to make any profit, do we?” inquired Beth. “It’s fun for us, you know, and a — a — great educational experience, and — and — a fine philanthropy — and all that. We don’t need the money, so if the paper pays a profit at a cent a copy we’d better cut down the price.”
“Don’t do that yet,” advised Uncle John, soberly. “There will be expenses that as yet you don’t suspect, and a penny for a paper is about as low as you can go.”
“What’s to be my position on the staff, Patsy?” asked Beth, turning to her cousin.
“You’re a good mathematician, Beth, so I propose you act as secretary and treasurer, and keep the books.”
“No; that’s too mechanical; no bookkeeping for me. I want something literary.”
“Then you can be sporting editor.”
“Goodness, Patsy! There will be no sporting news in Millville.”
“There will be a ball game occasionally, and I saw some of the men pitching quoits yesterday. But this is to be a newspaper reflecting the excitement of the entire world, Beth, and all the telegraphic news of a sporting character you must edit and arrange for our reading columns. Oh, yes; and you’ll take care of the religious items too. We must have a Sunday Sermon, by some famous preacher, Uncle. We’ll print that every Saturday, so those who can’t go to church may get as good a talk as if they did — and perhaps a better one.”
“That will be fine,” he agreed. “How about murders, crimes and divorces?”
“All barred. Nothing that sends a cold chill down your back will be allowed in our paper. These people are delightfully simple; we don’t want to spoil them.”
“Cut out the cold chills and you’ll spoil your newspaper,” suggested Arthur. “People like to read of other folks’ horrors, for it makes them more contented with their own lot in life.”
“False philosophy, sir!” cried Fatsy firmly. “You can’t educate people by retailing crimes and scandals, and the Millville Tribune is going to be as clean as a prayer book, if I’m to be managing editor.”
“Is that to be your office, dear?” asked Louise.
“I think so. I’ve a heap of executive ability, and I’m running over with literary — eh — eh — literary discrimination. In addition to running the thing, I’ll be the general news editor, because I’m better posted on newspaper business than the other girls.”
“How does that happen?” inquired Louise, wonderingly.
“Why, I — I read the papers more than you or Beth. And I’ve set myself to master every detail of the business. No more crocheting or fancy work — no novel reading — no gossipy letter writing. From this day on we must attend strictly to business. If we’re to become journalist, girls, we must be good ones — better than the ordinary — so that Uncle John may point to us with pride, and the columns of the Millville Daily Tribune will be quoted by the New York and Chicago press. Only in that way can we become famous throughout the world!”
“Pass me the bonbons, dear,” sighed Louise. “It’s a high ambition, isn’t it?”
“A very laudable ambition,” added Uncle John approvingly. “I hope my clever nieces will be able to accomplish it.”
“How about pictures?” asked Beth. “Modern newspapers are illustrated, and have cartoons of the leading events of the day.”
“Can’t we buy those things somewhere?” asked Patsy, appealing to Uncle John again. “There isn’t an artist among us, of any account; and we shall be too busy to draw pictures.”
“We must hire an artist,” said Mr. Merrick, adding the item to his memoranda. “I’ll speak to Marvin about it.”
All these details were beginning to bewilder the embryo journalists. It is quite possible that had not Uncle John placed his order for presses and type so promptly the girls might have withdrawn from the proposition, but the die was now cast and they were too brave — perhaps too stubborn — to “back down” at this juncture.
“I realize,” said Patsy, slowly and with a shake of her flaming head, “that we have undertaken an important venture. Our new enterprise is a most serious one, girls, for there is nothing greater or grander in our advanced age than the daily newspaper; no power so tremendous as the Power of the Press.”
“Yes, the press must be powerful or it wouldn’t print clearly,” remarked
Beth.
“We are to become public mentors to the simple natives of Chazy County,” continued Patsy, warming up to her subject and speaking oratorically. “We shall be the guiding star of the — er — er — the benighted citizens of Millville and Huntingdon. We must lead them in politics, counsel them in the management of their farms and educate them to the great World Movements that are constantly occurring.”
“Let’s put all that rot in our prospectus,” said Louise, looking at her cousin admiringly. “Can you remember it, Patsy, or had I better write it down now? I like that about teaching the farmers how to run their farms; it’s so practical.”
“You wait,” said Patsy unflinchingly. “I’ll write ‘em an editorial that will make their eyes roll. But it won’t do a bit of harm for you and Beth to jot down all the brilliant thoughts you run across, for the benefit of our subscribers.”
“We haven’t any subscribers yet,” remarked Beth, placidly.
“I’ll overcome that defect,” said Uncle John. “I want to subscribe right now for ten copies, to be mailed to friends of mine in the city who — who need educating. I’ll pay in advance and collect of my friends when I see ‘em.”
This was certainly encouraging and Patsy smiled benignantly.
“I’ll take five more yearly subscriptions,” said Arthur.
“Oh, but you’re going to be on the staff!” cried Patsy.
“Am I?”
“Certainly. I’ve been thinking over our organization and while it is quite proper for three girls to run paper, there ought to be a man to pose as the editor in chief. That’ll be you, Arthur.”
“But you won’t print my name?”
“Oh, yes we shall. Don’t groan, sir; it’s no disgrace. Wait till you see the Millville Tribune. Also we shall print our own names, in that case giving credit to whom credit is due. The announcement will run something like this: ‘Arthur Weldon, General Manager and Editor in Chief; P. Doyle, General News Editor; L. Merrick Weldon, Society and Literary Editor; E. DeGraf, Sporting Editor, Secretary and Treasurer.’ You see, by using our initials only, no one will ever suspect we are girls.”
“The Millville people may,” said Arthur, slyly, “and perhaps the disguise will be penetrated by outsiders. That will depend on the paper.”
“I don’t like that combination of sporting editor and secretary and treasurer,” objected Beth. “It isn’t the usual thing in journalism, I’m sure. Suppose you call me Editor of Special Features, and let it go at that?”
“Have we any special features?” asked Louise.
“Oh, yes,” said Arthur; “there’s Beth’s eyebrows, Patsy’s nose, and — ”
“Do be sen
sible!” cried Patsy. “This isn’t a joking matter, sir. Our newspaper will have plenty of special features, and Beth’s suggestion is a good one. It sounds impressive. You see, Arthur, we’ve got to use you as a figurehead, but so you won’t loaf on your job I’ve decided to appoint you Solicitor of Advertising and Subscriptions.”
“Thank you, my dear,” he said, grinning in an amused way.
“You and Louise, who still like to be together, can drive all over the county getting subscriptions, and you can write letters on our new stationery to all the big manufacturers of soaps and breakfast foods and beauty powders and to all the correspondence schools and get their advertisements for the Tribune. If you get a good many, we may have to enlarge the paper.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Doyle; I’ll try to keep within bounds.”
And so they went on, laying plans and discussing details in such an earnest way that Uncle John became as enthusiastic as any of them and declared in no uncertain tone that the Millville Daily Tribune was bound to be a “howling success.”
After the girls had retired for the night and the men sat smoking together in Uncle John’s own room, Arthur said:
“Tell me, sir, why you have encouraged this mad project.”
The little millionaire puffed his pipe in silence a moment. Then he replied:
“I’m educating my girls to be energetic and self-reliant. I want to bring out and develop every spark of latent ability there is in them. Whether the Millville Tribune succeeds or fails is not important; it will at least keep them busy for a time, along new lines, and tax their best resources of intellect and business ability. In other words, this experience is bound to do ‘em good, and in that way I figure it will be worth all it costs — and more. I like the originality of the idea; I’m pleased with the difficulties I see looming ahead; I’m quite sure my girls will rise to every occasion and prove their grit.” He paused to knock the ashes from his pipe. “I’m worth a lot of money, Arthur,” he continued, meekly, “and some day these three girls will inherit immense fortunes. It is my duty to train them in all practical business ways to take care of their property.”
“I follow your line of reasoning, sir,” observed Arthur Weldon; “but this absurd journalistic venture is bound to result in heavy financial loss.”
“I know it, my boy. I’m sure of it. But can’t you see that the lesson they will learn will render them more cautious in making future investments? I’m going to supply a complete newspaper outfit — to the last detail — and give ‘em a good running start. Then I shall sit back and watch results. If they lose money on running expenses, as they surely will, they’ll first take it out of their allowances, then sell their jewelry, and finally come to me for help. See? The lesson will be worth while, Arthur, and aside from that — think of the fun they’ll have!”
CHAPTER VI
MR. SKEELTY OF THE MILL
The next morning they drove to town again, passing slowly up the street of the little village to examine each building that might be a possible location for a newspaper office. Here is a map that Patsy drew of Millville, which gives a fair idea of its arrangement:
[Illustration: Village Street]
Counting the dwellings there were exactly twelve buildings, and they all seemed occupied.
When they reached the hardware store, opposite Cotting’s, Mr. West, the proprietor, was standing on the broad platform in front of it. In many respects Bob West was the most important citizen of Millville. Tall and gaunt, with great horn spectacles covering a pair of cold gray eyes, he was usually as reserved and silent as his neighbors were confiding and talkative. A widower of long standing, without children or near relatives, he occupied a suite of well-appointed rooms over the hardware store and took his meals at the hotel. Before Mr. Merrick appeared on the scene West had been considered a very wealthy man, as it was known he had many interests outside of his store; but compared with the multi-millionaire old Bob had come to be regarded more modestly, although still admitted to be the village’s “warmest” citizen. He was an authority in the town, too, and a man of real importance.
Mr. Merrick stopped his horse to speak with the hardware man, an old acquaintance.
“West,” said he, “my girls are going to start a newspaper in Millville.”
The merchant bowed gravely, perhaps to cover the trace of a smile he was unable to repress.
“It’s to be a daily paper, you know,” continued Mr. Merrick, “and it seems there’s a lot of machinery in the outfit. It’ll need quite a bit of room, in other words, and we’re looking for a place to install it.”
West glanced along the street — up one side and down the other — and then shook his head negatively.
“Plenty of land, but no buildings,” said he. “You might buy the old mill and turn it into a newspaper office. Caldwell isn’t making much of a living and would be glad to sell out.”
“It’s too dusty and floury,” said Patsy. “We’d never get it clean, I’m sure.”
“What’s in that shed of yours?” asked Uncle John, pointing to a long, low building’ that adjoined the hardware store.
West turned and looked at the shed reflectively.
“That is where I store my stock of farm machinery,” he said. “There’s very little in there now, for it’s a poor season and I didn’t lay in much of a supply. In fact, I’m pretty well cleaned out of all surplus stock. But next spring I shall need the place again.”
“Good!” cried Mr. Merrick. “That solves our problem. Has it a floor?”
“Yes; an excellent one; but only one small window.”
“We can remedy that,” declared Uncle John. “Here’s the proposition, West: Let us have the shed for six months, at the end of which time we will know whether the Millville Tribune is a success or not. If it is, we’ll build a fine new building for it; if it don’t seem to prosper, we’ll give you back the shed. What do you say?”
West thought it over.
“There is room on the rear platform, for all the farm machinery I now have on hand. All right, Mr. Merrick; I’ll move the truck out and give you possession. It won’t make a bad newspaper office. But of course you are to fit up the place at your own expense.”
“Thank you very much, sir!” exclaimed Uncle John. “I’ll set Lon Taft at work at once. Where can he be found?”
“Playing billiards at the hotel, usually. I suppose he is there now.”
“Very good; I’ll hunt him up. What do you think of our newspaper scheme,
West?”
The old merchant hesitated. Then he said slowly:
“Whatever your charming and energetic nieces undertake, sir, will doubtless be well accomplished. The typical country newspaper groans under a load of debt and seldom gets a fair show to succeed; but in this case there will be no lack of money, and — why, that settles the question, I think. Money is the keystone to success.”
“Mr. West,” said Louise, with dignity, “we are depending chiefly on the literary merit of our newspaper to win recognition.”
“Of course; of course!” said he hastily. “Put me down as a subscriber, please, and rely upon my support at all times. It is possible, young ladies — nay, quite probable, I should say — that your originality and genius will yet make Millville famous.”
That speech pleased Uncle John, and as the hardware merchant bowed and turned away, Mr. Merrick said in his cheeriest tones: “He’s quite right, my dears, and we’re lucky to have found such a fine, roomy place for our establishment. Before we go after the carpenter to fix it up I must telephone to Marvin about the things we still need.”
Over the long-distance telephone Mr. Marvin reported that he had bought the required outfit and it was even then being loaded on the freight cars.
“I’ve arranged for a special engine,” he added, “and if all goes well the freight will be on the sidetrack at Chazy Junction on Monday morning. The dealer will send down three men to set up the presses and get everything in running order. But he
asks if you have arranged for your workmen. How about it, Mr. Merrick? have you plenty of competent printers and pressmen at Millville?”
“There are none at all,” was the reply. “Better inquire how many we will need, Marvin, and send them down here. And, by the way, hire women or girls for every position they are competent to fill. This is going to be a girls’ newspaper, so we’ll have as few men around as possible.”
“I understand, sir.”
Uncle John ordered everything he could think of and told his agent to add whatever the supply man thought might be needed. This business being accomplished, he found Lon Taft at the hotel and instructed the carpenter to put rows of windows on both sides of the shed and to build partitions for an editorial office and a business office at the front.
This was the beginning of a busy period, especially for poor Uncle John, who had many details to attend to personally. The next morning the electricians arrived and began stringing the power cables from the paper mill to the newspaper office. This rendered it necessary for Mr. Merrick to make a trip to Royal, to complete his arrangement with Mr. Skeelty, the manager. He drove over with Arthur Weldon, in the buggy — four miles of hill climbing, over rough cobble-stones, into the pine forest.
Arriving there, the visitors were astonished at the extent of the plant so recently established in this practically unknown district. The great mill, where the wood pulp was made, was a building constructed from pine slabs and cobblestones, material gathered from the clearing in which it stood, but it was quite substantial and roomy. Adjoining the mill was the factory building where the pulp was rolled into print paper. Surrounding these huge buildings were some sixty small dwellings of the bungalow type, for the use of the workmen, built of rough boards, but neat and uniform in appearance. Almost in the center of this group stood the extensive storehouse from which all necessary supplies were furnished the mill hands, the cost being deducted from their wages. The electric power plant was a building at the edge of Royal Waterfall, the low and persistent roar of which was scarcely drowned by the rumble of machinery. Finally, at the edge of the clearing nearest the mills, stood the business office, and to this place Mr. Merrick and Arthur at once proceeded.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 478
