AN EXPERIENCE OF MR. JOHN JONES.
IT happened sometime within the last ten or fifteen years, that, inmy way through this troublesome world, I became captivated with theidea of starting a newspaper. That I had some talent for scribbling,I was vain enough to believe, and my estimate of the ability Ipossessed was sufficiently high to induce me to think that I couldgive a peculiar interest to the columns of a weekly paper, were sucha publication entirely under my control.
I talked about the matter to a number of my literary and otherfriends, who, much to my satisfaction, saw all in a favourablelight, and promised, if I would go on in the proposed enterprise, touse all their interest in my favour.
"I," said one, "will guaranty you fifty subscribers among my owncircle of acquaintances."
"And I," said another, "am good for double that number."
"Put me down for a hundred more," said a third, and so the promisesof support came like music to my willing ear.
One or two old veterans of the "press gang," to whom I spoke of mydesign, shrugged their shoulders, and said I had better try my handat almost any thing else. But I was sanguine that I could succeed,though hundreds had failed before me. I felt that I possessed apeculiar fitness for the work, and could give a peculiar charm to anewspaper that would at once take it to the hearts and homes of thepeople.
A printer was called upon for an estimate, based upon a circulationof three thousand copies, which was set down as a very moderateexpectation. He gave the whole cost of paper, composition, (typesetting,) and press-work, at $4000.
This fell a little below my own roughly-made estimate, and settledmy determinations. Two thousand copies, at two dollars a copy, whichwas to be the subscription price, would pay all the expenses, and ifthe number of subscribers rose to three thousand, of which there wasnot the shadow of a doubt in my mind, I would have a clear profit of$2000 the first year. And should it go to four thousand, as was mostprobable, my net income would be about $3400, for all increase wouldsimply be chargeable with cost of paper and press-work--or aboutsixty cents on a subscriber. After the first year, of course therewould be a steady increase in the number of subscribers, which, ifat the rate of only a thousand a year, would give me in five yearsthe handsome annual income of $9000. I was rich in prospective!Nothing could now hold me back. I ordered the printer to get readyhis cases, and the paper-maker to provide, by a certain time, thepaper.
As the terms were to be in advance, or rather the whole year payableat the expiration of the first quarter, I promised to begin payingcash for all contracts at the end of the first quarter. Up to thisperiod of my life, I had gone on the strict principle of owing noman any thing, and I was known in the community where I lived to bea strictly honest and honourable man. Never having strained mycredit, it was tight and strong, and I had but to ask the threemonths' favour to get it without a sign of reluctance.
Next I issued my prospectus for the "Literary Gazette and WeeklyReflex of Art, Literature, and Science, a Newspaper devoted to, &c.&c.," and scattered copies among my friends, expecting each to dohis duty for me like a man. They were also posted in everybook-store, hotel, and public place in the city. Said city, be itknown, rejoiced in a population of a hundred thousand souls, ofwhich number I saw no reason for doubting my ability to reach, withmy interesting paper, at least three or four thousand, in the end.That was felt to be a very moderate calculation indeed. Then, when Iturned my eyes over our vast country, with its millions and millionsof intelligent, enlightened, reading and prosperous people, I feltthat even to admit a doubt of success was a weakness for which Iought to be ashamed. And I wondered why, with such a harvest toreap, twenty such enterprises to one were not started.
While in this sanguine state, an individual who had been for thirtyyears a publisher and editor, prompted, as he said, by a sincereinterest in my welfare, called to see me in order to give me thebenefit of his experience. He asked me to state my views of theenterprise upon which I was about entering, which I did in glowingterms.
"Very well, Mr. Jones," said he, after I was done, "you base yourcalculations on three thousand subscribers?"
"I do," was my answer.
"From which number you expect to receive six thousand dollars."
"Certainly; the price of the paper is to be two dollars."
"I doubt, my young friend, very much, whether you will receive fourthousand dollars from three thousand subscribers, if you should havethat number. Nay, if you get three thousand during the year, you maybe very thankful."
"Preposterous!" said I.
"No; not by any means. I have been over this ground before you, andknow pretty much what kind of harvest it yields."
"But," said I, "it is not my intention to throw the paper into everyman's house, whether he wants it or not. I will only take goodsubscribers."
"You would call Mr. B----, over the way, a good subscriber, Ipresume?"
"Oh yes!" I replied, "I would very much like to have a few thousandlike him."
"And Mr. Y----, his next-door neighbour?"
"Yes--he is good, of course."
"That is, able to pay."
"And willing."
"I happen to know, my young friend, that neither of those men willpay a subscription to any thing if they can help it."
"Not to a work to which they have regularly subscribed?"
"No."
"That is as much as to say that they are dishonest men."
"You can say that or any thing else you please; I only give you theinformation for your own government. You will find a good many likethem. Somehow or other, people seem to have a great aversion topaying newspaper bills. I don't know how it is, but such is thefact. And if you will take the advice of one who knows a good dealmore about the business than you do, you will go to wood-sawing inpreference to starting a newspaper. You may succeed, but in tenchances, there are nine on the side of failure."
I shrugged my shoulders and looked incredulous.
"Oh, very well!" said he, "go on and try for yourself. Bought wit isthe best, if you don't pay too dear for it. You are young yet, and alittle experience of this kind may do you no harm in the long run."
"I'm willing to take the risk, for I think I have counted the costpretty accurately. As for a failure, I don't mean to know the word.There is a wide field of enterprise before me, and I intend tooccupy it fully."
The old gentleman shrugged his shoulders in return, but volunteeredno more of his good advice.
A week before the first number of the "Gazette and Reflex" wasready, I called in my prospectuses, in order to have the thousand orfifteen hundred names they contained regularly entered in thesubscription-books with which I had provided myself. I had rented anoffice and employed a clerk. These were two items of expense thathad not occurred to me when making my first calculation. It wasrather a damper on the ardency of my hopes, to find, that instead ofthe large number of subscribers I had fondly expected to receive,the aggregate from all quarters was but two hundred!
One very active friend, who had guarantied me fifty himself, had butthree names to his list; and another, who said I might set him downfor a hundred, had not been able to do any thing, and, moreover,declined taking the paper himself, on the plea that he already tookmore magazines and newspapers than he could read or afford to payfor. Others gave as a reason for the little they had done, the wantof a specimen number, and encouraged me with the assurance, that assoon as the paper appeared, there would be a perfect rush ofsubscribers.
In due time, the first number appeared, and a very attractive sheetit was--in my eyes. I took the first copy that came from the press,and, sitting down in my office, looked it over with a feeling ofpaternal pride, never before or since experienced. A more beautifulobject, or rather one that it gave me more delight to view, hadnever been presented to my vision. If doubt had come in to disturbme, it all vanished now. To see the "Gazette and Reflex" would beenough. The two hundred "good names" on my list were felt to beample for a start. Each copy circulated among those would bring fromone to a dozen new subscribers. I regretted exceedingly that thetype of the first form of the paper had been distributed. Had thisnot been the case, I would have ordered an additional thousand to beadded to the three thousand with which I commenced my enterprise.
Saturday was the regular publication day of the paper, but I issuedit on the preceding Wednesday. That is, served it to my two hundredsubscribers and had it distributed to the daily press. With whateagerness did I look over the papers on Thursday morning, to see theglowing notices of my beautiful "Gazette and Reflex." I opened thefirst one that came to hand, glanced down column after column, butnot a word about me or mine was there! A keener sense ofdisappointment I have never experienced. I took up another, and thefirst words that met my eyes were:
"We have received the first number of a new weekly paper started inthis city, entitled the 'Literary Gazette and Weekly Reflex.' It isneat, and appears to be conducted with ability. It will, no doubt,receive a good share of patronage."
I threw aside the paper with an angry exclamation, and forthwith setthe editor down as a jealous churl. In one or two other newspapers Ifound more extended and better notices; but they all fell so farshort of the real merits of my bantling, that I was sadly vexed anddisheartened. To have my advent announced so coldly andungraciously, hurt me exceedingly. Still, I expected the mereannouncement to bring a crowd of subscribers to my office; but,alas! only three presented themselves during the day. Generouslyenough, they paid down for the paper in advance, thus giving me sixdollars, the first income from my new enterprise and the earnest ofthousands that were soon to begin pouring in like a never-failingstream.
My friends called one after another, to congratulate me on thebeautiful appearance of my paper, and to predict, for myencouragement, its widely extended popularity. I believed all theysaid, and more. But for all this, by the time the second number madeits appearance, my list had only increased one hundred. Still, onreflection, this appeared very good, for at the rate of a hundred aweek, I would have five thousand in a year.
"Why don't you employ canvassers?" inquired one. "There are hundredsin the city who will take the paper if it is only presented tothem."
Acting on this hint, I advertised for men to solicit subscribers.Five of those who applied were chosen and distributed through fivedifferent sections of the city. I agreed to pay fifty cents forevery good subscriber obtained. This was, of course, a pretty heavydrawback upon my expected income, but then it was admitted on allhands that a subscriber was worth fifty cents, as after he was onceobtained he would doubtless remain a subscriber for years.
At the close of the first day my men brought in an average of tensubscribers each. The agreement was, that I was to pay themtwenty-five cents on the name of a new subscriber being handed in,and the remaining twenty-five cents when the subscription due at theexpiration of the first three months was collected. So I had twelvedollars and a half cash, to pay down. But then my list was increasedto the extent of fifty names. The average of new subscribers from myagents continued for a couple of weeks, and then fell off sensibly.By the end of two months, my canvassers left the field, some of themsick of the business, and others tempted by more promisinginducements.
Many of the country papers noticed my "Gazette and Reflex" in themost flattering manner, and not a few of them copied my prospectus.This had the effect to bring me in a few hundred subscribers bymail, with the cash, in a large number of cases in advance. Aboutone-third, however, promised to remit early.
At the end of three months, according to promise, I was to pay myprinter and paper maker. Up to that time my cash receipts had beenthree hundred dollars, but every cent was gone. My clerk had to bepaid seven dollars a week regularly, and a mail and errand boy,three dollars. Advertising had cost me twenty-five dollars; accountand subscription books as much more; and I had paid over fiftydollars to my agents for getting subscribers. Besides, there hadbeen a dozen little et ceteras of expense, not before taken intocalculation. Moreover, out of this three hundred dollars of income Ihad my own personal expenses to pay.
In the thirteenth number of my paper, I gave notice that the threemonths having expired, all subscriptions were due for the yearaccording to the terms, and called upon subscribers "to step to thecaptain's office and settle." There were of unpaid subscribers nowupon my books the number of five hundred and forty, and my debt toprinter and paper maker was exactly nine hundred and eighty dollars,I having kept on printing three thousand copies, under the beliefthat the list must go up to that.
Day after day went by after this notice appeared, yet not a singleman answered to the invitation. I began to feel serious. Subscriberscontinued to come in, though slowly, and people all spoke highly ofthe paper and said it must succeed. But its success, so far, was notover flattering. Finding that people would not take the plain hint Ihad given, I went over the books and made out all the bills. Onethousand and eighty dollars was the aggregate amount due. Thesebills, except those for the country, I placed in the hands of acollector, and told him to get me in the money as quickly aspossible. Those for the country, about one hundred in number, Ienclosed in the paper. On the faith of this proceeding, I promisedthe paper maker and printer each two hundred dollars in a couple ofweeks.
Four days elapsed without my collector making his appearance,greatly to my surprise. On the fifth day I met him in the street.
"Well, how are you coming on?" said I.
"Oh, slowly," he replied.
"I expected to see you a day or two ago."
"I had nothing of consequence to return. But I will be in onSaturday."
I felt a kind of choking in my throat as I turned away. On Saturdaythe collector called--he opened his memorandum-book, and I mycash-book, preparatory to making entries of money returned.
"Mr. A----," said the collector, "says he never pays in advance forany thing."
"But the terms of the paper are in advance after the first threemonths."
"I know."
"Did you call his attention to this?"
"Oh, yes! but he said he didn't care for your terms. He'd beenswindled once or twice by paying in advance, but never intended togive anybody the opportunity to do the same thing again."
Mr. A----was a man whom I had known for years. I cannot tell howhurt and indignant I was at such language. He took my paper, knowingthe terms upon which it was published, and when I sent my bill,refused to comply with the terms, and insulted me into the bargain.I turned to his name on the subscription-book, and striking it off,said--
"He can't have the paper."
"Credit Mr. B----with six months and discontinue," said thecollector, as he passed to the next name on his list. Mr. B----was aman whom I knew very well by reputation. I had looked upon him asone of my best subscribers. He was a merchant in easy circumstances.
"Why does he wish it stopped?" I asked.
"He says he merely took the paper by way of encouraging theenterprise, and never supposed he would be called upon to pay forit. He told Mr. J----, who asked him to subscribe, that he had morepapers now than he wanted, and Mr. J----said, No matter. He wouldhave it sent to him by way of adding another respectable name to thelist."
"Very well," said I, as I entered the name of Mr. B----in thecash-book, "pass on."
This went fairly ahead of any thing I had ever dreamed of. I was toomuch surprised even to make a remark on the subject.
"Mr. C---was as mad as a March hare when I presented his bill."
"Indeed! Why?"
"He paid your agent when he subscribed!"
"Did you see his receipt?"
"Yes. The agent took a hat and paid him the difference."
"The scoundrel! And charged me a quarter in addition, for returningthe subscriber!"
"These canvassers are a slippery set."
"That's swindling!"
"The fellow won't quarrel with you about the terms, seeing that heenjoys the hat."
"Too bad! Too bad! Well, go on."
Mr. D----paid two dollars, but wants you to stop at the end of theyear. He merely took a copy at the start by way of encouraging theenterprise. Thinks highly of the paper, but can't afford to take itlonger than a year."
"Very well."
"Mr. E---has paid."
"Well?"
"Mr. F----says he never subscribed, and does not want it. He says,if you will send to his house, you can get all the numbers. He toldthe carrier not to leave it from the first."
"I paid an agent for his name."
"He says he told the agent that he didn't want the paper. That hetook more now than he could read."
"Swindled again!"
"Mr. G----says he never saw the paper in his life."
"It's sent regularly."
"Some mistake in the carrier. Mr. H----paid, and wishes the paperdiscontinued."
"Very well."
"Mr. I----says he can't afford to take it. His name was put downwithout his consent."
I had received this name through one of my kind friends.
"Mr. J----paid a dollar, and wants it stopped."
"Well?"
"Mr. K----paid; also, Mr. L----and Mr. M----."
"Well?"
"Mr. N----says the paper is not left for him; but for a young manwho has gone West. Thinks you had better stop it."
I erased the name.
Mr. O---paid the agent."
"He never returned the money."
Mr. P----and Mr. Q----, ditto."
"Never saw a copper of their money. Paid a quarter apiece, cash, foreach of these subscribers."
"Mr. R----says the paper is not worth reading. That he wouldn't paya shilling a year for it. I advise you to stop it. He never pays forany thing if he can help it. Mr. S----paid. Mr. T----paid up to thisdate, and wishes it stopped. Never ordered it. Mr. U----paid. Icalled upon a great many more, but they put me off with one excuseor other. I never had a much worse lot of bills."
A basin of cold water on a sentimental serenader could not haveproduced a greater revulsion of feeling than did this unlooked-forreturn of my collector. Nineteen dollars and fifty cents, instead ofabout two hundred dollars, were all he had been able to gather up;there was no promise of success in the future on any differentscale. I received the money, less ten per cent. for collecting, andwas left alone to my own reflections. Not of the most pleasant kind,the reader may well imagine. For an hour I brooded over thestrangely embarrassing position in which I found myself, and then,after thinking until my head was hot and my feet and hands cold, Idetermined to reduce, immediately, the edition of my paper fromthree thousand to one thousand, and thus save an item of thirtydollars a week in paper and press-work. To send off my clerk, also,to whom I was paying seven dollars weekly, and with the aid of aboy, attend to the office, and do the writing and mailing myself. Ithen went over the subscription-book, and counted up the names. Thenumber was just seven hundred and twenty. I had but a little whilebefore replied to a question on the subject, that I had about twelvehundred on my list. And I did vaguely imagine that I had thatnumber. I knew better now.
To describe minutely the trials, sufferings, and disappointments ofthe whole year, would take too much time and space. The subsequentreturns of my collector were about on a par with the first. Findingit impossible to pay the printer and paper maker, as promised, outof the advance subscriptions falling due at the end of three months,I borrowed from some of my friends about four hundred dollars, andpaid it over, stating, when I did so, that I must have a newcontract, based upon a six months' credit.
I found no great difficulty in obtaining this from the paper maker,to whom I spoke in confident terms of my certain ultimate success.The printer required half cash, which I agreed to pay.
This arrangement I fondly hoped would give me time to make mycollections, and, besides paying off the debt already accumulated,enable me to acquire a surplus to meet the notes given, from time totime, for paper and printing.
At the end of a year, my list, through various exertions andsacrifices, had arisen to twelve hundred. On this I had collectedeight hundred dollars, and I calculated that there were aboutsixteen hundred dollars due me, which, I thought, if all collectedin, would about square me up with the world. This I thought. But,when I came to go over my bill-book and ledger, I found, to my utterdismay, that I owed three thousand five hundred dollars! This mustbe a mistake, I said, and went over my books again. The result wasas at first. I owed the money, and no mistake. But how it was, Icould not for some time comprehend. But a series of memorandums frommy cash-book, and an examination of printers' and paper makers'bills, at length made all clear. I had used, on my own personalaccount, four hundred dollars during the year. Office rent was twohundred and fifty. My carriers had cost over a hundred dollars. Myboy one hundred and fifty, and ninety had been paid to the clerkduring the first three months. Sundry little items of expense duringthe year made an aggregate of over a hundred. Paper and printing forthe first three months had been nearly a thousand dollars, and forthe last three quarters about twenty-two hundred dollars.
To go on with this odds against me, I had sense enough to see wasperfect folly. But, how could I stop? I was not worth a dollar inthe world; and the thought of wronging those who had trusted me infull reliance upon my integrity, produced a feeling of suffocation.Besides, I had worked for a year as few men work. From sunrise untiltwelve, one, and two o'clock, I was engaged in the business oreditorial duties appertaining to my enterprise, and to abandon allafter such a struggle was disheartening.
After much deliberation, I concluded that the best thing I could dowas to sell out my list of subscribers to another and moresuccessful establishment in the city, and, for this purpose, waitedupon the publisher. He heard me, and after I had finished, asked myterms. I told him fifteen hundred dollars for the list. He smiled,and said he wouldn't give me five hundred for the whole concern,debts and all. I got up, put on my hat, and left him with indignantsilence.
To go on was the worst horn for me to grasp in the dilemma in whichI found myself. To stop, would be to do so with some three or fourhundred persons paid in advance, for portions of a year. I wasdunned, daily, by my printer, for money, and in order to meet thenotes which had already fallen due, I had been compelled to borrowtemporarily from my friends. Unable to arrive at any satisfactoryconclusion, in despair, I summoned creditors and friends around me,and laid before them a full statement of my condition. There weresome long faces at that meeting; but no one felt as I did. I shallnever forget the suffering and mortification of that day, were I tolive a thousand years.
The unanimous determination of the meeting was that I must stop,collect in the money due, and divide it pro rata among my creditors.I did so; announcing, at the same time, the heavy embarrassmentunder which I had been brought, and earnestly soliciting those whoowed the paper, to settle their accounts immediately. To the few whohad paid the fraction of a year in advance, I stated how much I hadlost, and appealed to their magnanimity for a remission of theobligation I remained under to furnish the paper for the time yetdue to them. It was but the matter of a few cents, or a dollar atmost to them, I said, but it was hundreds of dollars to me.
Well, and what was the sequel to all this? Why, to sum up whatremains to be told, in a few words; only two hundred dollars out ofthe sixteen hundred were collected, and from those who had paidsmall trifles in advance, I received dozens of letters, couched inthe most offensive terms. Some charged me with being a swindler, andsaid, if I didn't immediately send the money overpaid, or some otherpaper in the place of mine, they would publish me to the world.Others said they would be in the city at a certain time and requireme to refund; while many, residing on the spot, took out theirmoney's worth, by telling me to my face what they thought of myconduct. One man issued a warrant against me for thirty-five cents,the sum overpaid by him.
So much for my experience in starting a newspaper. A year and a halfbefore, I had a clerkship which brought me in seven hundred dollarsa year; was easy in mind, respected by all my friends, looked uponas an honest man by every one who knew me, and out of debt. Istarted a newspaper in a moment of blind infatuation, and now I owedabove three thousand dollars, my good name was gone, and I wasdispirited, out of employment, afraid to walk the street lest Ishould encounter some one I owed, and as wretched as a man couldwell be. I soon after left the city, and sought employment hundredsof miles away. So much for my experience in starting a newspaper.
THE END.
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