Chapter 13

THE CAMERONS HAVE A VISITOR

During the next week Paul was obliged to go several times to the _Echo_ offices and each time he went with the secret hope that he would see Mr. Carter and have the opportunity to hand back to him the hateful money that burned in his breast pocket. The chance, however, never came. The door of the great man's private room was continually closed and when the boy suggested to the clerk that he wait and talk with the publisher, he was told that Mr. Carter was engaged and could see no one that day. The thought of mailing the money occurred to Paul, but as this method of returning it seemed precarious and uncertain, he promptly abandoned the idea. For the same reason he was unwilling to leave the bill in a sealed envelope to be delivered to the editor-in-chief by one of the employees. Should a sum so immense, at least so immense in the lad's estimation, be lost, he never could replace it. Certainly he was in trouble enough already without chancing another dilemma.

In the meantime he carried the bill around with him, trying in the interval to decide what to do with it. Gradually he became accustomed to having the money in his possession. It did not seem so strange a thing now as it had in the beginning. After all, fifty dollars was not such a vast sum. To a person of Mr. Carter's wealth it probably was nothing at all, an amount too trifling to cause a second thought. Besides, he had not really bound himself to Mr. Carter. He had not actually guaranteed to do anything. It was Mr. Carter who had insisted that he take the money.

Unquestionably in exchange for it Paul was expected to use his influence to persuade the boys of 1920 to sell their paper; still, using one's influence did not necessarily mean that one must succeed. If he suggested the deal and it failed to go through, would he not have done all that was required of him? Mr. Carter had stipulated nothing more than that he use his influence. If the _Echo_ owner had over-estimated the power of that influence, was not that his lookout? No doubt such an understanding was quite customary in business circles and was not so important a matter as he took it to be.

The more the lad thought the matter over the more plausible the retention of the money seemed. To use one's influence was surely a legitimate arrangement. It was done in politics every day of the week. Weren't individuals in high positions constantly accepting tips to put through business measures of one sort or another, regardless of whether they personally approved of them or not? To be sure, he had heard his father call such money _bribe money_, _dirty money_, and refer to the men who took it as being _bought up_.

Paul knew his father scorned such proceedings. That was the reason he had lost the campaign when running for mayor against Mr. Carter in 1915. It had been an underhanded fight and almost everyone in Burmingham, regardless of party, had thought so. Mr. Carter had won the election, it is true, but it had been at the expense of the respect of the entire community.

And now he, Paul Cameron, was deserting the principles for which his father stood and was accepting those of his opponent. Plainly speaking, that was what the thing amounted to. He was taking money for something he disapproved of doing; he was being a traitor to his class, to his friends, to the school. The boys on the staff of the paper respected and trusted him. They would never suspect him of treachery. Should he stand up and advocate the sale of the _March Hare_ he knew his word would have weight. If, on the other hand, he manfully presented Mr. Carter's offer as it honestly should be presented, he was practically sure that the measure would be voted down.

Yet if he returned the money to Mr. Carter and refused to have anything further to do with the affair, he must forfeit his typewriter, the thing on which he had set his heart.

What an unlucky snarl it was! How unfortunate that the _March Hare's_ bank account should have been muddled and its editor driven to repair an error that was not his! Had not this occurred, all would have gone smoothly and he could have thrust the odious money back in Mr. Carter's face and left his office a free man. He hated Mr. Carter, the _March Hare_, the school, and all the web of circumstances in which he was entangled! He wanted that typewriter. It seemed as if he must have it. In the meantime, the May issue of the school paper came out and preparations for the June number, the last that 1920 would publish, began. The swift passing of the days forced Paul's hand. Whichever way he was to act he must act soon now, and he found himself no nearer a decision than he had been two weeks ago. He still had Mr. Carter's money in his pocket, and he was still eyeing the Corona he longed for and which he could neither bring himself to purchase nor give up; he was, too, quite as unreconciled to doing his Alma Mater an injury as he had been before. Round and round in a circle he went, the same old arguments bringing him to the same old conclusions. There seemed to be no way out.

While he was still pondering what he would do, an interesting visitor arrived at the Cameron home. This was Mr. Percy Wright, a college classmate of Paul's father and the owner of one of the largest paper mills in the State. He was a man of magnetic personality and wide business experience and Paul instantly conceived that warm admiration for him which a younger boy will often feel for an older man.

A fund of amusing anecdotes rippled from Mr. Wright's tongue. It seemed as if there was no subject on which he could not converse. He had an entertaining story about almost every topic suggested and kept the entire Cameron family laughing heartily through each meal. Paul watched the stranger with fascinated eyes. How charming he was, how witty, how clever! And yet Mr. Wright was not always jesting. On the contrary, he could be very serious when his hobby of paper-making, with its many interdependent industries, was mentioned.

He was, for example, in close touch with the publication of periodicals, newspapers, and books, and he immediately hailed Paul as a colleague.

"So you are the editor-in-chief of a widely circulated monthly magazine, are you, my boy?" he remarked. "Well, you certainly have an enviable job. It is a pity you are not going to keep on with the work. Your father tells me he thinks you have made a great success of it."

Paul colored uncomfortably.

"Not that I would have you throw over your college career," added Mr. Wright quickly. "Not for a moment! But publishing work is so alluring! I have always wanted to own a newspaper and I have not yet given up hope of doing so before I die."

"My paper isn't anything wonderful," said Paul modestly.

"But it is a clean, good magazine of its sort. I have been looking over several copies of it since I have been here. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I call the _March Hare_ a mighty fine little publication. It's a splendid starter and I'll be bound has given you some excellent experience. Every paper has to have a beginning. All our big newspapers began on a small scale. There is some difference between one of our modern Sunday issues and the _Boston News-Letter_ of long ago."

"I don't think I know what the _Boston News-Letter_ was," Paul said.

"You've never seen a copy of this early Massachusetts newspaper?"

"No, sir."

"Well, it was a small, four-page sheet, printed in old type, and filled to a great extent with announcements of merchandise that had been shipped from England to the colonies for sale: pipes of wine, bolts of homespun, pieces of silk, consignments of china. Such things came from overseas in those days, and the arrival of the vessels that brought them was eagerly awaited by prospective purchasers, for there were few luxuries in the New World. Along with these advertisements was printed the news of the day; and that all this matter could be contained in four small pages proves how uneventful was early Massachusetts history. Now and then some great event would command more space. I recall seeing one copy of the paper with a picture of the first steam locomotive--a crude, amusing picture it was, too. Later the _Massachusetts Gazette_ appeared, and soon afterward there were other papers and other printers scattered throughout the respective States. Benjamin Franklin was in Boston, you remember, from 1723 until 1726, when he went to Philadelphia and did publishing work until 1756. A hand press identical in principle with the one he used is still preferred to this day in the large newspaper press rooms for striking off proof when the amount of it is too small to be put through a power press. The hand press is a simple and quick agent for getting a result. The ink roller is run over the type and hand pressure is applied. One could not of course print a large newspaper on such a limited scale; but for jobbing work Franklin's variety of press is still acceptable and unrivaled."

"It seems funny to think of a Boston paper ever being so small," mused the boy.

Mr. Wright smiled.

"And not only small but of infrequent issue," said the paper manufacturer. "In 1709 there was only one daily paper published in London; twelve appeared three times a week; and three twice a week."

"Great Scott!"

"Yes, it is amazing, isn't it? _The Tatler_ began in 1709 and _The Spectator_ not long afterward. You must recall that the entire newspaper industry as we know it has been developed within comparatively recent years. The great daily, with its Sunday edition of pictures, colored sheets, news of classified varieties, and advertising and sporting sections, is only possible by means of the modern press which has the capacity for turning out in a short time such an immense number of papers."

Paul listened, fascinated by the subject.

"Gradually," went on Mr. Wright, "new brains attacked the problems of the small press, improving and enlarging it until little by little a press was built up which is so intricate and so wonderful that it almost ceases to be a machine and becomes nearly human. Boston, you know, harbors the largest printing press in the world. It is made up of 383,000 parts; it carries eight huge rolls of paper weighing from thirteen hundred to fifteen hundred pounds, four of them at each end; and in addition it has two color presses attached on which the colored supplement is printed."

"How do they ever lift such heavy rolls of paper into place?" inquired Paul.

"A chain is put around them and they are hoisted up by machinery," answered Mr. Wright. "The employees are warned to stand from under, too, when they are lifted, for should one of those mighty rolls fall, the person beneath might be seriously injured or perhaps killed."

"How many papers can they turn out on a press of that size?" was Paul's next question.

"It is possible to turn out 726,000 eight-page papers an hour or the equivalent of that quantity; the number of papers depends on the size of them, you see."

"What do you suppose good Benjamin Franklin would say to that?" laughed Paul.

"I fancy he would remark a number of things," Mr. Wright returned. "In fact, a modern newspaper plant, with its myriad devices for meeting the business conditions of our time, would be quite an education to Franklin, as it is to the rest of us. Did you ever see a big newspaper printed from start to finish, Paul?"

"No, sir."

"Ah, that's a pity. As a publisher you should be better informed on your subject," observed the elder man half teasingly. "I am going to Boston on Saturday. If your father is willing would you like to go along with me and spend the week-end in town?"

The lad's eyes shone.

"Would I like it!" he managed to stammer.

"I've got to see some of the business houses we supply with paper," continued Mr. Wright, "and incidentally I am sure I could arrange a visit to a big newspaper office Saturday evening when they are getting out the Sunday papers and have all their presses in operation."

"That would be great!"

"I think you would enjoy the trip," asserted Mr. Wright. "The printing of a paper is a wonderful process to see. I have a great admiration and respect for a fine newspaper, anyway. When one considers how widely it is read and the influence it possesses for good or evil, one cannot but take off his hat to it. No agency in the community can more quickly stir up or allay strife. Public opinion to no small extent takes its cue from the papers. They are great educators, great molders of the minds of the rank and file. Let the papers whisper war or national calamity and the stock markets all over the world are affected. And that is but one of the vital influences the paper wields. The temper of the whole people is colored by what they read. Whenever the editorials of reputable papers work toward a specific goal, they usually achieve it. Have we not had a striking example of that during the present war? The insidious power of propaganda is incalculable. Fortunately our national papers are high-minded and patriotic and have directed their influence on the side of the good, quieting fear, promoting loyalty, encouraging honesty, and strengthening the nobler impulses that govern the popular mind. For people are to an extent like a flock of sheep; they give way to panic very quickly. What one thinks the next one is liable to believe. Much of this opinion is in the hands of the newspapers. At the same time, the minds of the greater thinkers of the country are often clarified by reading the opinions mirrored by the press. One cannot praise too highly the wisdom and discretion of our newspapers during the perilous days of war when a word from them might have been as a match to tinder, and when they held many important secrets in their keeping. The great dailies were loyal to the last degree and the confidence that was placed in them was never betrayed. It was unavoidable that they should possess knowledge that the rest of us did not; but they never divulged it when cautioned that to do so would be against the national welfare. The sailings of ships, the departure of troops, the names of the ports from which vessels left, the shipment of food and supplies--all tidings such as these the press withheld."

"It was bully of them!" Paul exclaimed with enthusiasm.

"Yes, they rendered a great service. And you must remember that it was especially difficult since there is always a keen rivalry between papers and a tremendous eagerness to be the first one with the news. Whenever a paper gets inside information of an interesting nature there is a great temptation to publish it. There have been few such offenses, however, during the present war, be it said to the newspaper men's credit. Hence it became possible for the President to grant regular interviews to the leading reporters of the country and speak to them with comparative frankness with regard to national policies without fear that what he said would be garbled and turned to mischievous ends."

"I don't believe I ever thought before of the responsibility the papers had," remarked Paul soberly.

"Their responsibility is immeasurable," replied Mr. Wright. "The opportunity a paper has for checking rash judgment and arousing the best that is in humanity is endless. That is why I should like to control a newspaper, that I might make it the mouthpiece of all that is highest and noblest. To my mind only persons of splendid ideals should be entrusted with the publishing of papers. If the editor is to form the opinion of the masses, he should be a man worthy of his mission."

Paul toyed with his cuff-link.

"So, son," concluded Mr. Wright, "you've got to be a very good person if you aim to be a newspaper man--at least, that's what I think. Any printed word is like seed; it is liable to take root you know not where. A paper voices the thought of those who produce it. Therefore it behooves its makers to consider well their thoughts."

The boy winced and a flush surged to his forehead. Certainly Mr. Wright would not approve of the fifty-dollar bill which at that instant lay concealed in his pocket. As he turned to leave the room, he was very conscious of the leather pocketbook that pressed against his heart. He wished he was clear of that money. But he had already kept it more than two weeks and it was of course too late to return it now.