Colfax, when he first heard of Eugene, was still cherishing his
dream of a literary and artistic primate who should rank in power
with White. He had not found him as yet, for all the men he
sincerely admired and thought fitted for the position were in
business for themselves. He had sounded one man after another, but
to no satisfactory end. Then it became necessary to fill the
position of advertising manager with someone who would make a
conspicuous success of it, and he began to sound various
authorities. Naturally he looked at the different advertising men
working for various publications, and quickly came to the name of
Eugene Witla. The latter was rumored to be making a shining success
of his work. He was well liked where he was. Two different business
men told Colfax that they had met him and that he was exceptionally
clever. A third told him of his record with Summerfield, and
through a fourth man who knew Eugene, and who was having him to
lunch at the Hardware Club a few weeks later, Colfax had a chance
to meet him without appearing to be interested in him in any
way.
Not knowing who Colfax was, or rather very little, other than
that he was president of this great rival publishing concern,
Eugene was perfectly free and easy in his manner. He was never
affected at any time, decidedly eager to learn things from anybody
and supremely good natured.
"So you're Swinton, Scudder and Davis, are you?" he said to
Colfax on introduction. "That trinity must have shrunk some to get
condensed into you, but I suppose the power is all there."
"I don't know about that! I don't know about that!" exclaimed
Colfax electrically. He was always ready like a greyhound to run
another a race. "They tell me Swinton and Scudder were
exceptionally big men. If you have as much force as you have length
there's nothing the matter with you, though."
"Oh, I'm all right," said Eugene, "when I'm by myself. These
little men worry me, though. They are so darned smart."
Colfax cackled ecstatically. He liked Eugene's looks. The
latter's manner, easy and not in any way nervous or irritable but
coupled with a heavenly alertness of eye, took his fancy. It was a
fit companion for his own terrific energy, and it was not unduly
soft or yielding.
"So you're the advertising manager of the
North
American
. How'd they ever come to tie you down to that?"
"They didn't tie me," said Eugene. "I just lay down. But they
put a nice fat salary on top of me to keep me there. I wouldn't lie
down for anything except a salary."
He grinned smartly.
Colfax cackled.
"Well, my boy, it doesn't seem to be hurting your ribs, does it?
They've not caved in yet. Ha! Ha!—Ha! Ha! They've not, have they?
Ha! Ha!"
Eugene studied this little man with great interest. He was taken
by his sharp, fierce, examining eye. He was so different from
Kalvin, who was about his size, but so much more quiet, peaceful,
dignified. Colfax was electric, noisy, insistent, like a pert
jack-in-the-box; he seemed to be nothing but energy. Eugene thought
of him as having an electric body coated over with some thin veneer
of skin. He seemed as direct as a flash of lightning.
"Doing pretty good over there, are you?" he asked. "I've heard a
little something about you from time to time. Not much. Not much.
Just a little. Not unfavorable, though. Not unfavorable."
"I hope not," said Eugene easily. He wondered why Colfax was so
interested in him. The latter kept looking him over much as one
might examine a prize animal. Their eyes would meet and Colfax's
would gleam with a savage but friendly fire.
"Well?" said Eugene to him finally.
"I'm just thinking, my boy! I'm just thinking!" he returned, and
that was all Eugene could get out of him.
It was not long after this very peculiar meeting which stuck in
Eugene's memory that Colfax invited him over to his house in New
York to dinner. "I wish," he wrote one day not long after this
meeting, "that the next time you are in New York you would let me
know. I would like to have you come to my house to dine. You and I
ought to be pretty good friends. There are a number of things I
would like to talk to you about."
This was written on the paper of the United Magazines
Corporation, which had just been organized to take over the old
company of Swinton, Scudder and Davis, and was labeled "The Office
of the President."
Eugene thought this was significant. Could Colfax be going to
make him an offer of some kind? Well, the more the merrier! He was
doing very well indeed, and liked Mr. Kalvin very much, in fact,
all his surroundings, but, as an offer was a testimonial to merit
and could be shown as such, he would not be opposed to receiving
it. It might strengthen him with Kalvin if it did nothing else. He
made an occasion to go over, first talking the letter over with
Angela, who was simply curious about the whole thing. He told her
how much interested Colfax appeared to be the first time they met
and that he fancied it might mean an offer from the United
Magazines Corporation at some time or other.
"I'm not particularly anxious about it," said Eugene, "but I'd
like to see what is there."
Angela was not sure that it was wise to bother with it. "It's a
big firm," she said, "but it isn't bigger than Mr. Kalvin's, and
he's been mighty nice to you. You'd better not do anything to
injure yourself with him."
Eugene thought of this. It was sound advice. Still he wanted to
hear.
"I won't do anything," he said. "I would like to hear what he
has to say, though."
A little later he wrote that he was coming on the twentieth and
that he would be glad to take dinner with Colfax.
The first meeting between Eugene and Colfax had been conclusive
so far as future friendship was concerned. These two, like Eugene
and Summerfield, were temperamentally in accord, though Colfax was
very much superior to Summerfield in his ability to command
men.
This night when they met at dinner at Colfax's house the latter
was most cordial. Colfax had invited him to come to his office, and
together they went uptown in his automobile. His residence was in
upper Fifth Avenue, a new, white marble fronted building with great
iron gates at the door and a splendid entry set with small palms
and dwarf cedars. Eugene saw at once that this man was living in
that intense atmosphere of commercial and financial rivalry which
makes living in New York so keen. You could feel the air of hard,
cold order about the place, the insistence on perfection of
appointment, the compulsion toward material display which was held
in check only by that sense of fitness, which knowledge of current
taste and the mode in everything demanded. His automobile was very
large and very new, the latest model, a great dark blue affair
which ran as silently as a sewing machine. The footman who opened
the door was six feet tall, dressed in knee breeches and a
swallow-tailed coat. The valet was a Japanese, silent, polite,
attentive. Eugene was introduced to Mrs. Colfax, a most graceful
but somewhat self-conscious woman. A French maid later presented
two children, a boy and a girl.
Eugene by now had become used to luxury in various forms, and
this house was not superior to many he had seen; but it ranked with
the best. Colfax was most free in it. He threw his overcoat to the
valet carelessly and tossed his babies in the air by turn, when
they were presented to him by the French maid. His wife, slightly
taller than himself, received a resounding smack.
"There, Ceta," he exclaimed (a diminutive for Cecile, as Eugene
subsequently learned), "how do you like that, eh? Meet Mr. Witla.
He's an artist and an art director and an advertising manager
and——"
"A most humble person," put in Eugene smilingly. "Not half as
bad as you may think. His report is greatly exaggerated."
Mrs. Colfax smiled sweetly. "I discount much that he says at
once," she returned. "More later. Won't you come up into the
library?"
They ascended together, jesting. Eugene was pleased with what he
saw. Mrs. Colfax liked him. She excused herself after a little
while and Colfax talked life in general. "I'm going to show you my
house now, and after dinner I'm going to talk a little business to
you. You interest me. I may as well tell you that."
"Well, you interest me, Colfax," said Eugene genially, "I like
you."
"You don't like me any more than I like you, that's a sure
thing," replied the other.
The results of this evening were most pleasant, but in some ways
disconcerting. It became perfectly plain that Colfax was anxious to
have Eugene desert the Kalvin Company and come over to him.
"You people over there," he said to him at one stage of the
conversation, "have an excellent company, but it doesn't compare
with this organization which we are revising. Why, what are your
two publications to our seven? You have one eminently successful
one—the one you're on—and no book business whatsoever! We have
seven publications all doing excellently well, and a book business
that is second to none in the country. You know that. If it hadn't
been that the business had been horribly mismanaged it would never
have come into my hands at all. Why, Witla, I want to tell you one
little fact in connection with that organization which will
illustrate everything else which might be said in connection with
it before I came here! They were wasting twenty thousand dollars a
year on ink alone. We were publishing a hundred absolutely useless
books that did not sell enough to pay for the cost of printing, let
alone the paper, plates, typework and cost of distribution. I think
it's safe to say we lost over a hundred thousand dollars a year
that way. The magazines were running down. They haven't waked up
sufficiently yet to suit me. But I'm looking for men. I'm really
looking for one man eventually who will take charge of all that
editorial and art work and make it into something exceptional. He
wants to be a man who can handle men. If I can get the right man I
will even include the advertising department, for that really
belongs with the literary and art sections. It depends on the
man."
He looked significantly at Eugene, who sat there stroking his
upper lip with his hand.
"Well," he said thoughtfully, "that ought to make a very nice
place for someone. Who have you in mind?"
"No one as yet that I'm absolutely sure of. I have one man in
mind who I think might come to fill the position after he had had a
look about the organization and a chance to study its needs a
little. It's a hard position to hold. It requires a man with
imagination, tact, judgment. He would have to be a sort of
vice-Colfax, for I can't give my attention permanently to that
business. I don't want to. I have bigger fish to fry. But I want
someone who will eventually be my other self in these departments,
who can get along with Florence White and the men under him and
hold his own in his own world. I want a sort of bi-partisan
commission down there—each man supreme in his own realm."
"It sounds interesting," said Eugene thoughtfully. "Who's your
man?"
"As I say, he isn't quite ready yet, in my judgment, but he is
near it, and he's the right man! He's in this room now. You're the
man I'm thinking about, Witla."
"No," said Eugene quietly.
"Yes; you," replied Colfax.
"You flatter me," he said, with a deprecatory wave of his hand.
"I'm not so sure that he is."
"Oh, yes, he is, if he thinks he is!" replied Colfax
emphatically. "Opportunity doesn't knock in vain at a real man's
door. At least, I don't believe it will knock here and not be
admitted. Why the advertising department of this business alone is
worth eighteen thousand dollars a year to begin with."
Eugene sat up. He was getting twelve. Could he afford to ignore
that offer? Could the Kalvin Company afford to pay him that much?
They were paying him pretty well as it was. Could the Kalvin
Company offer him the prospects which this company was offering
him?
"What is more, I might say," went on Colfax, "the general
publishing control of this organization—the position of managing
publisher, which I am going to create and which when you are fitted
for it you can have, will be worth twenty-five thousand dollars a
year, and that oughtn't to be so very far away, either."
Eugene turned that over in his mind without saying anything.
This offer coming so emphatically and definitely at this time
actually made him nervous and fearsome. It was such a tremendous
thing to talk about—the literary, art and advertising control of
the United Magazines Corporation. Who was this man White? What was
he like? Would he be able to agree with him? This man beside him
was so hard, so brilliant, so dynamic! He would expect so much.
And then his work with Townsend Miller and under Mr. Kalvin. How
much he had learned of the editorial game by merely talking and
planning with those two men! He had got the whole idea of timely
topics, of big progressive, national forecasts and features, of odd
departments and interesting pieces of fiction and personality
studies, from talking with Miller alone. Kalvin had made clear to
him what constituted great craftsmen. Of course, long before, he
had suspected just how it was, but in Philadelphia he had sat in
conference with Miller and Kalvin, and knew. He had practically
managed the former's little art department for him without paying
much attention to it either. Couldn't he really handle this greater
thing if he tried? If he didn't, someone else would. Would the man
who would, be so much greater than himself?
"I'm not anxious that you should act hastily," said Colfax
soothingly, after a little bit, for he saw that Eugene was debating
the question solemnly and that it was a severe problem for him. "I
know how you feel. You have gone into the Kalvin Company and you've
made good. They've been nice to you. It's only natural that they
should be. You hate to leave. Well, think it over. I won't tempt
you beyond your best judgment. Think it over. There's a splendid
chance here. Just the same, I like you, and I think you are the man
to get away with it. Come down to my place tomorrow and let me show
you what we have. I want to show our resources. I don't think you
know how big this thing really is."
"Yes, I do," replied Eugene, smiling. "It certainly is a
fascinating proposition. But I can't make up my mind about it now.
It's something I want to think about. I'd like to take my time, and
I'll let you know."
"Take all the time you want, my boy! Take all the time you
want!" exclaimed Colfax. "I'll wait for you a little while. I'm in
no life-or-death hurry. This position can't be filled
satisfactorily in a minute. When you're ready, let me know what you
decide. And now let's go to the theatre—what do you say?"
The automobile was called, Mrs. Colfax and her guest, Miss
Genier, appeared. There was an interesting evening in a box, with
Eugene talking gaily and entertainingly to all, and then an
after-theatre bite at Sherry's. The next morning, for he stayed all
night at Colfax's, they visited the United Magazines Corporation
building together, and at noon Eugene returned to Philadelphia.
His head was fairly seething and ringing with all he had seen
and heard. Colfax was a great man, he thought, greater in some
respects than Kalvin. He was more forceful, more enthusiastic,
younger—more like himself, than Kalvin. He could never fail, he was
too rich. He would make a success of this great corporation—a
tremendous success—and if he went he might help make it with him.
What a thing that would be! Very different from working for a
corporation with whose success he had never had anything to do.
Should he ignore this offer? New York, a true art and literary
standing; a great executive and social standing; fame; money—all
these were calling. Why, on eighteen or twenty-five thousand he
could have a splendid studio apartment of his own, say on Riverside
Drive; he could entertain magnificently; he could keep an
automobile without worrying about it. Angela would cease feeling
that they had to be careful. It would be the apex of lieutenantship
for him. Beyond that he would take stock in the company, or a
business of his own. What a long distance he had come from the days
when, here as a boy, he had walked the streets, wondering where he
would find a $3 room, and when as an art failure he carried his
paintings about and sold them for ten and fifteen dollars. Dear
Heaven, what peculiar tricks fortune could play!
The discussion with Angela of this proposition led to some
additional uncertainty, for although she was greatly impressed with
what Colfax offered, she was afraid Eugene might be making a
mistake in leaving Kalvin. The latter had been so nice to Eugene.
He had never associated with him in any intimate way, but he and
Angela had been invited to his home on several formal occasions,
and Eugene had reported that Kalvin was constantly giving him good
advice. His attitude in the office was not critical but analytic
and considerate.
"He's been mighty nice to me," Eugene said to her one morning at
breakfast; "they all have. It's a shame to leave him. And yet, now
that I look at it, I can see very plainly that there is never going
to be the field here that there will be with the United Company.
They have the publications and the book business, and the Kalvin
Company hasn't and won't have. Kalvin is too old. They're in New
York, too; that's one thing I like about it. I'd like to live in
New York again. Wouldn't you?"
"It would be fine," said Angela, who had never really cared for
Philadelphia and who saw visions of tremendous superiority in this
situation. Philadelphia had always seemed a little out of the way
of things after New York and Paris. Only Eugene's good salary and
the comforts they had experienced here had made it tolerable. "Why
don't you speak to Mr. Kalvin and tell him just what Mr. Colfax
says," she asked. "It may be that he'll offer to raise your salary
so much that you'll want to stay when he hears of this."
"No danger," replied Eugene. "He may raise it a bit, but he
never can pay me twenty-five thousand dollars a year. There isn't
any reason for paying it. It takes a corporation like the United to
do it. There isn't a man in our place gets that, unless it is
Fredericks. Besides, I could never be anything more here, or much
more, than advertising manager. Miller has that editorial job sewed
up. He ought to have it, too, he's a good man. This thing that
Colfax offers lets me out into a new field. I don't want to be an
advertising manager all my days if I can help it!"
"I don't want you to be, either, Eugene," sighed Angela. "It's a
shame you can't quit entirely and take up your art work. I've
always thought that if you were to stop now and go to painting you
would make a success of it. There's nothing the matter with your
nerves now. It's just a question of whether we want to live more
simply for a while and let you work at that. I'm sure you'd make a
big success of it."
"Art doesn't appeal to me so much as it did once," replied
Eugene. "I've lived too well and I know a lot more about living
than I once did. Where could I make twelve thousand a year
painting? If I had a hundred thousand or a couple of hundred
thousand laid aside, it would be a different thing, but I haven't.
All we have is that Pennsylvania Railroad stock and those lots in
Montclair eating their merry little heads off in taxes, and that
Steel common stock. If we go back to New York we ought to build on
that Montclair property, and rent it if we don't want to live in
it. If I quit now we wouldn't have more than two thousand dollars a
year outside of what I could earn, and what sort of a life can you
live on that?"
Angela saw, disappearing under those circumstances, the rather
pleasant world of entertainment in which they were disporting
themselves. Art distinction might be delightful, but would it
furnish such a table as they were sitting at this morning? Would
they have as nice a home and as many friends? Art was glorious, but
would they have as many rides and auto trips as they had now? Would
she be able to dress as nicely? It took money to produce a variety
of clothing—house, street, evening, morning and other wear. Hats at
thirty-five and forty dollars were not in the range of artists'
wives, as a rule. Did she want to go back to a simpler life for his
art's sake? Wouldn't it be better to have him go with Mr. Colfax
and make $25,000 a year for a while and then have him retire?
"You'd better talk to Mr. Kalvin," she counseled. "You'll have
to do that, anyhow. See what he says. After that you can decide
what you must do."
Eugene hesitated, but after thinking it all over he decided that
he would.
One morning not long after, when he met Mr. Kalvin in the main
hall on the editorial floor, he said, "I'd like to talk to you for
a few moments some time today alone, Mr. Kalvin, if you can spare
me the time."
"Certainly. I'm not busy now," returned the president. "Come
right down. What is it you want to see me about?"
"Well, I'll tell you," said Eugene, when they had reached the
former's office and he had closed the door. "I've had an offer that
I feel that I ought to talk to you about. It's a pretty fascinating
proposition and it's troubling me. I owe it to you as well as to
myself to speak about it."
"Yes; what is it?" said Kalvin considerately.
"Mr. Colfax of the United Magazines Corporation came to me not
long ago and wanted to know if I would not come with him. He offers
me eighteen thousand dollars a year as advertising manager to begin
with, and a chance to take charge of all the art and editorial ends
as well a little later at twenty-five thousand dollars. He calls it
the managing-publishing end of the business. I've been thinking of
it seriously, for I've handled the art and advertising ends here
and at the Summerfield Company, and I have always imagined that I
knew something of the book and magazine business. I know it's a
rather large proposition, but I'm not at all sure that I couldn't
handle it.".
Mr. Kalvin listened quietly. He saw what Colfax's scheme was and
liked it as a proposition. It was a good idea, but needed an
exceptional man for the position. Was Eugene the man? He wasn't
sure of that, and yet perchance he might be. Colfax, he thought,
was a man of excellent financial if not publishing judgment. He
might, if he could get the proper person, make an excellent success
of his business. Eugene interested him, perhaps more at first flash
than he would later. This man before him had a most promising
appearance. He was clean, quick, with an alert mind and eye. He
could see how, because of Eugene's success here, Colfax was
thinking of him being even more exceptional than he was. He was a
good man, a fine man, under direction. Would Colfax have the
patience, the interest, the sympathy, to work with and understand
him?