THE INITIATE

Within a month after Hal’s acquisition of the “Clarion,” Dr. Surtaine had become a daily caller at the office.  “Just to talk things over,” was his explanation of these incursions, which Hal always welcomed, no matter how busy he might be.  Advice was generally the form which the visitor’s talk took; sometimes warning; not infrequently suggestions of greater or less value.  Always his counsel was for peace and policy.

“Keep in with the business element, Boyee.  Remember all the time that Worthington is a business city, the liveliest little business city between New York and Chicago.  Business made it.  Business runs it.  Business is going to keep on running it.  Anybody who works on a different principle, I don’t care whether it’s in politics or journalism or the pulpit, is going to get hurt.  I don’t deny you’ve braced up the ‘Clarion.’  People are beginning to talk about it already.  But the best men, the moneyed men, are holding off.  They aren’t sure of you yet.  Sometimes I’m not sure myself.  Every now and then the paper takes a stand I don’t like.  It goes too far.  You’ve put ginger into it.  I have to admit that.  And ginger’s a good thing, but sugar catches more flies.”

The notion of a breakfast to the staff met with the Doctor’s instant approval.

“That’s the idea!” said he “I’ll come to it, myself.  Lay down your general scheme and policy to ’em.  Get ’em in sympathy with it.  If any of ’em aren’t in sympathy with it, get rid of those.  Kickers never did any business any good.  You’ll get plenty of kicks from outside.  Then, when the office gets used to your way of doing things, you can quit wasting so much time on the news and editorial end.”

“But that’s what makes the paper, Dad.”

“Get over that idea.  You hire men to get out the paper.  Let ’em earn their pay while you watch the door where the dollars come in.  Advertising, my son:  that’s the point to work at.  In a way I’m sorry you let Sterne out.”

The ex-editor had left, a fortnight before, on a basis agreeable to himself and Hal, and McGuire Ellis had taken over his duties.

“Certainly you had no reason to like Sterne, Dad.”

“For all that, he knew his job.  Everything Sterne did had a dollar somewhere in the background.  Even his blackmailing game.  He worked with the business office, and he took his orders on that basis.  Now if you had some man whom you could turn over this news end to while you’re building up a sound advertising policy—­”

“How about McGuire Ellis?”

Dr. Surtaine glanced over to the window corner where the associate editor was somnambulantly fighting a fly for the privilege of continuing a nap.

“Too much of a theorist:  too much of a knocker.”

“He’s taught me what little I know about this business,” said Hal.  “Hi!  Wake up, Ellis.  Do you know you’ve got to make a speech in an hour?  This is the day of the Formal Feed.”