The Bread Line: A Story of a Paper

"I am still working on it a little every day, and have been down to the 'line' one or two evenings. For some reason, however, the work doesn't seem to have quite the feeling the first sketch had – I mean quite the feeling of forlornness and destitution. Van says it's because I've seen the 'line' lately in warm weather, when the men are only hungry and not cold. That must be so, I think, and I am not going to finish it entirely until it gets cold again, so I can get back all that wretchedness we saw on last New Year's eve. Perhaps that sounds cruel to you, but it is the artist's way to make capital out of the emotions of others, and anyhow, dear, this isn't like 'Prometheus Bound,' that we used to read at school, for it does nobody any harm and may even do good.

"It's likely to be cold and bitter almost any time after the 1st of October, but it ought to be very cold, – I mean in the picture, – and there should be snow or sleet. I think sleet would be better – a driving, stinging sleet, and a deadly hard look on the pavement where the light reflects. There is something in the way a man crouches and shrinks from sleet that you never quite get any other way. Of course, I don't want it to sleet on those poor fellows, but I know it will, and when it does I must be there to see it.

"You see, the boys think this is the best thing I have done, and I can't afford to fail on it at the end, though I'd like to have it all done by Christmas, and it may not sleet before January, or even then. But I'm not going to worry over it, – think about it, I mean, – for, as I said, I wouldn't really want it to be very cold and sleet at all, if I could help it, only I know I can't.

"How good and noble you are, Dorry! When I think about your not having gone away this summer on my account, it makes me ashamed of myself, for really we have had a jolly time here in town. Van says that even if we never get anything else out of the paper, we have had a million dollars' worth of fun, and it's about so. I am sorry I have ever seemed discouraged or out of patience with things, for it made you have a lot of sympathy with me, and though I liked it, of course, and wanted it, I knew I didn't deserve it at all.

"I am glad, though, that the struggle will be over now in a few days. Our first advertising – the 'cash for names' – comes out on the 15th, and the rest – the premium offers – about the 25th. Also in our own sample copies. So you see, before the 1st of October the wheels will be turning very fast. Of course, we may not have quite the great rush we expect, but even if only half it will be enough.

"Good-by, sweetheart. I wish we might be together these beautiful September days. The parks are fine now in the early morning. Next year we will get up and walk out in them together.

"With all my heart,

"True."

XV

FINAL STRAWS

One morning when the busy writer and two artists who lived and toiled together in apartments near Union Square – now the offices of the "Whole Family" – returned to them after a light and wholesome breakfast, they found their stairway full of girls – girls of almost every age and apparently of almost every station in life. There were tall girls, short girls, slender girls, stout girls, girls of every complexion and every manner of dress. Also, more girls were constantly coming and pressing their way into the hall. The friends stood aghast.

Van Dorn swore under his breath.

"What is it?" whispered Livingstone, fearfully. "What have we done now?"

A flicker of light flitted across Perner's face.

"I guess the Colonel did it," he said. "He put a line in one of the papers last night for a few girls to help him. I suppose this is the result."

"Do you call this a few?" gasped Livingstone.

"Well, of course we couldn't tell just how many would come. That paper must have a good many readers. We don't have to take 'em all, you know."

Livingstone stared at the gathering of the clans helplessly.

"No," he commented; "I should think not." Then a moment later he added thoughtfully: "I suppose all these girls have to work to live. Let's take all of them we can, fellows."

And Van Dorn asked hopelessly:

"How are we going to get up-stairs?"

They worked their way through, at last, to the Colonel's room above. It was filled to the edges, as were the halls and stairways outside. The Colonel was already at his desk – his white hair tossed in every direction and a hunted look in his eyes. About him billowed the eager applicants, crowding and forcing their way toward the sheet of paper upon which he was having each write her name and address, both to show the style and rapidity of penmanship, and as a means of finding the ones selected. The friends watched the proceedings for some moments with interest. The girls regarded them curiously. Some of them whispered to each other and giggled. Van Dorn wedged his way to the Colonel's elbow and said in a subdued voice:

"Well, Colonel, this beats Gettysburg, doesn't it?"

The Colonel affected a great self-possession.

"Oh, this is nothing at all," he laughed. "I've been through this all my life. Once I engaged five hundred girls. I won't be able to get more than a dozen good ones out of this crowd."

"A dozen! I should think you could get a million!"

The Colonel tipped over an ink-bottle to show his superior calmness, and a black-eyed, rosy-cheeked girl jumped back with a tiny scream. The friends made their way to the room above, where, several hours later, Colonel Hazard joined them, somewhat pale and worn. He had sifted out ten good girls, he told them, after careful examination of the throng. It was learned later that he had locked the doors below as soon as possible to keep out the hordes that continued to come. Indeed, girls came singly and in groups all day. Those engaged were familiarizing themselves with the books in which names were to be entered. On to-morrow the first advertising was to appear. Barrifield, who was temporarily absent from the city in the interest of his employers, had arranged before he started to have the presses going on the papers. The end was in sight.

In fact, answers to their advertisements began to come the next afternoon, and the proprietors were much elated. There were only a few, to be sure, – not enough to cover the bottom of the big mail-box, – but they indicated that their offers had been seen and appreciated. Even Perner forgot his former misgivings and rejoiced. The answers were coming. The paper was ready for the press. The long-looked-for hour was at hand.

At dusk, however, came a slight shock.

Colonel Hazard came up with several letters. He remarked, handing them to Perner:

"There are some queer people in the world. Read one or two of those letters aloud."

Perner held one of the communications to the light. It said:

Gentlemen: I inclose you twenty good names of people likely to be interested in your paper. Please send me the five dollars as promised without delay. My birthday comes on Saturday, and I want it before that time.

Yours hastily,Bessie Green.

"Humph! well named," said Van Dorn, while the others uttered various exclamations. "Well, I'm sorry for Bessie, but I'm afraid she'll be disappointed."

Perner selected another letter.

"This is from a boy," he commented; "his name is Robert Bright. You wouldn't suspect it, however, from his communication.

"Gentlemen: Here are ure twentie naims. Now send mi five dollers, and dont be so slo about it or i will have the polese on ure track. I have ben foold one or twise by advertisment fellers but this time i mean to have wat is coming."

The exclamations that followed this possessed an added degree of emphasis. Perner picked up a third letter.

"From a woman," he said.

"Gentlemen: I am sending the twenty names, and you don't know how grateful I am or how happy it makes me to be able to earn money for my little family, who are in need of the necessaries of life. I hope you can send me the five dollars to-night, and I am sure Heaven will reward you for your great undertaking."

Nobody uttered a word for some moments. Then Livingstone said:

"Do you suppose there'll be many letters like that?"

And Van Dorn growled:

"Some people haven't got the sense they were born with. That advertisement was as clear as sunlight."

"It was," said Perner; "I wrote it myself."

Nevertheless, they made up the five dollars between them and mailed a check for it on their way to dinner. The next morning there were more answers in the big mail-box. The bottom was quite covered with postal cards containing lists of twenty names each.

Also, there was a letter from the man of the rolled-up sleeves, stating that he was prepared to run some twenty thousand copies of the paper, and would start the press upon receipt of a check for the amount. This was a severe blow, but as the amount was comparatively small it was not fatal. Besides, they had grown somewhat accustomed to such things. They were not even surprised when their landlord, who, with his family, occupied apartments in the rear, came in to demand his rent in the middle of the month – a thing he had never dreamed of doing since the first year of their occupancy. Not that he was at all afraid, he said, but he was only a poor man who sublet to them, and had met with ill fortune. Later, the Colonel came up with still further strange letters, though none so pathetic as the one of the night before.

However, there were other complications. People in small villages were sending lists containing the same names. Some of the lists were almost identical. When Perner realized this he scowled anxiously, and lay down on the couch to think.

"Good heavens! fellows," he exclaimed, "we'll ruin the nation!"

"What's the matter? What do you mean?" asked Van Dorn.

"Why, see here! People will be sending in the same names, and sending each other's names, till they get us so mixed up we can't straighten the thing out in a hundred years! Then they'll accuse us of fraud, and blame each other for a lot of things, too. The result will be that they'll get into a fight until the whole nation is in one immense wrangle. We'll ruin the country! That's what we'll do! We'll ruin the country!"

Perner had arisen and was walking the floor excitedly.

"I tell you, Van, your 'cash for names' scheme is a fallacy! I said so the other day, and I say so all the more now. I'll admit that I believed in it and abetted it at first. It looked like a big thing, and we all thought it was, but it isn't. In the first place, we can't afford it, as I told you before. In the next place, the people don't understand it, and we're going to be deluged with letters like those that came with the first mail. And even if we could afford it, and even if those letters didn't count, we can't afford to disturb the peace of the whole nation by creating hard feelings in every village and hamlet, that will finally end, not only with the utter ruin of our paper, but in riots and rebellion and government interference, if not in one mighty civil war and the total destruction of the whole English-speaking world!"

Perner's old manner – the manner in which he had set forth the scheme on the night of the golden dinner – had returned to him. It had returned, but with a difference: then he had been painting the glories of the plan; now he was depicting its horrors. The ten years' business experience had wallowed through a cloudland of dreams, but had materialized in very harsh daylight at last. As for Van Dorn and Livingstone, they sat gloomily silent. The Colonel was first to express himself. He said:

"I hardly think we need to disturb ourselves so seriously. At the rate the replies are coming I should say that there is no immediate danger of upsetting the universe with our plans. We have received a number, it is true, but unless there is a marked increase to-morrow, I may safely reduce my force of assistants by one half."

"You don't think, then, we'll get a hundred thousand lists of twenty names each in reply to our 'cash for names' advertisement?" Perner asked – somewhat relieved, it would seem.

"I don't think we'll get to exceed five thousand."

In fact, they received somewhat less than one thousand, and the original twenty thousand papers were found sufficient. These, though paid for with some degrees of promptness, were not immediately forthcoming. It is the printer's way. The "man with his sleeves rolled up" does not hasten in the process of "wiping his hands on the cheerless towel" even after the requested check has been received and cashed. Though pleaded for, argued for, demanded at last violently, the "first round of the first issue" did not arrive until the morning of the 24th, at which time Colonel Hazard put on sufficient force to dispose of them in one day.

And so the "first round of the first issue" was out at last. Also, on to-morrow their premium advertisements would appear. The dice which they had been jingling so merrily for the better part of a year they had cast, finally, on the round green table of the world.

XVI

AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW

They were elated to find a subscription in the big mail-box on the following morning; at least, Perner and Van Dorn were, and Livingstone, though less demonstrative, seemed also gratified. Few, if any, of the sample copies could have reached their destination, and it must have been an early riser indeed who had already seen their advertising and forwarded a subscription. When the letter was found to be from one Dorothy Castle of Cleveland, the wonder grew.

"She must have got hold of an advance copy," commented Perner. "You came from Cleveland, Stony; do you know any Castles out there?"

Livingstone thought hard, and admitted that the name sounded familiar; his people might know her.

Then there was a careful examination of the precious document by each in turn.

"I'll bet that's a bully girl!" decided Van Dorn, with emphasis. "I can tell by the handwriting."

"She is that," agreed Livingstone.

"Let's have it framed and hung up as a souvenir," suggested Perner.

"Give it to me," said Livingstone. "I have an idea."

Perner made a copy of it first for the Colonel. His enthusiasm had returned.

"She wants a Bible," he commented. "I say, fellows, don't you think we'd better have a thousand Bibles sent right up? That seems to be the premium they want."

"Better wait till to-morrow," advised Van Dorn; "then we'll have the money to pay for them with."

This seemed good advice. The rest of the day they spent between the studios and the circulation department below. No further subscriptions were received, however, and though they remarked to each other that of course they did not expect them, it was evident that evening found them somewhat more silent than usual.

They were up next morning early. Breakfast was a mere form, and conversation difficult. They made a pretense of the usual banter, it is true, but the laughter sounded spasmodic and strange. The long strain upon them had told.

Perner reached the big mail-box first, and struck it with his foot. It rang hollow. He peered down through the long opening in the top.

"Empty," he said; "postman hasn't come yet. Perhaps there's such a lot it delayed him, or they're sending it in a special sack."

"Maybe the Colonel's already got it," suggested Van Dorn.

They ran up the stairs like boys. Colonel Hazard sat at his desk, his assistants ranged about a long table behind him. Some of them were idle. The others were entering a few belated lists of names.

"Mail come?" panted Livingstone, breathlessly.

The Colonel nodded.

"Came just as I did. Met the postman in the hall. Several lists of twenty names each, and two subscriptions – two very nice subscriptions, gentlemen, one from a sample copy, one from the advertisement in the 'Home.' We shall do nicely, gentlemen, when we get to going. It takes patience, of course, and capital; but we shall succeed with time and perseverance."

They dragged up the next flight to the studios. When they were inside, and the door closed, Van Dorn said:

"Do you know, the Colonel's getting so he makes me tired!"

"I guess he never heard of a man named Frisby," said Livingstone.

"I'll tell you," said Perner, "it's too soon. The paper just got out yesterday. People have to have a chance to read it, first, then to buy a money-order and a stamp. Even those that live nearest couldn't get their subscriptions in much before to-night."

"But the ones we've already got did," observed Livingstone, gloomily.

"And Frisby got in a thousand dollars the first day after his advertising appeared," remembered Van Dorn.

"Oh, well, that probably meant the second day. I'll bet he didn't count the first day at all. Of course he didn't."

Livingstone suddenly brightened.

"Perhaps that wasn't all the mail; maybe they're bringing the rest of it in a sack."

There was a perceptible revival at this suggestion. Perner even became merry.

"Maybe in pots," he said, – "pots of gold!"

And Van Dorn, looking out of the window, remarked:

"We're like Frisby in one respect, anyway. He didn't have a dollar when his first subscription came – not a dollar!"

But the sack did not appear – nor the pots. Neither did they receive any further subscriptions on that day. By night it was almost impossible to see humor in the situation, which shows that the bohemian spirit must have reached a very low ebb indeed.

On the following morning they did not think it worth while to go to breakfast, but waited at the foot of the stairs in a body for the postman. He came after what seemed an endless period, and brought quite a bundle of mail. There were a number of twenty-name lists and a quantity of circulars, also one subscription.

Even the Colonel appeared somewhat depressed at this falling off of a clean fifty per cent. in the returns, while the proprietors ascended to the floor above in silence. Perner fell into a chair and rocked gently. Van Dorn stared out of the window, as was his wont. Livingstone walked over and stood before his picture of the bread line.

All at once Perner began to laugh violently. The others turned and stared at him. He rocked harder and laughed louder. The faces of Livingstone and Van Dorn became really concerned. The latter said soothingly:

"Oh, come, old man, that won't do. You're overworked and nervous. You must take it calmly, you know."

But Perner only rocked and laughed more wildly. Finally he gasped out:

"I'm all right! I haven't got 'em! But four subscriptions! A year's work for four men, and one subscription apiece to show for it! The mountain rocked and groaned and brought forth a mouse! Oh, Lord! Ten years' business experience and four subscriptions! Twelve months' hard labor for two well-known artists, several thousand dollars in cash, and four subscriptions!"

He reeled off into another wild fit of merriment, and this time the others joined him. The humor of it had seized them all. Van Dorn toppled over on the couch. Livingstone lay down on a prayer-rug to laugh.

"Four subscriptions!" they shouted. "And Frisby got in a thousand dollars the first day. Cash paid for names, and four subscriptions! The crown-jeweled watch! The marvelous cracker-jack, double-rack, Hackensack camera! Money for Christmas shopping, and checks mailed promptly! Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!"

They were not so far from hysteria, after all. When at last they could laugh no more, they were weak and exhausted.

"How about our steam-yacht, and houses on Fifth Avenue?" asked Van Dorn, and this was followed by a feeble aftermath of mirth.

"I'm glad we didn't take vacations," said Perner; "we'll enjoy them so much more next year, when we can go in style."

Livingstone said nothing, and his face had saddened. Presently one of the girls from below entered with a letter. It was postmarked at Chicago, and they recognized Barrifield's handwriting. It was addressed to Perner. He read it aloud:

"Dear Perny and All: You will have things fairly under way by the time you get this, and we will be already as good as millionaires.

"Humph! Yes," commented Perner. "Better than some millionaires, I hope!

"The subscriptions will be pouring in – "

"See 'em pour!" interrupted Van Dorn.

"and the premiums going out in a steady stream."

At this there was a general yell and another fit of laughter.

"I am sorry," the letter continued, "that we adopted that watch, however, for I have found a much better one here, and have got on the 'inside.' I have sent on a number of them, which you can use where people call in person for their premiums."

"They'll call," said Livingstone. "'Line forms up on the right. Come early to avoid the rush.'"

"I have sent them to you C.O.D."

Perner gaped up at the others.

"Oh, he has! He's sent them C.O.D.! Um! well, I don't think we'll use many of those watches – not this week.

"I am anxious to know, of course, just how matters are going, and if we beat Frisby the first day. Wire me to this address just what we did and are doing. I will be with you in a few days more."

"We'll wire him," grunted Van Dorn. "The wire'll be so hot he'll dance when it touches him. Beat Frisby! Oh, yes; we'll wire him!"

They did, in fact, at once, and within the hour received Barrifield's reply. It was conveyed in a single brief word:

Chicago, October 27, 1897.

To the "Whole Family," New York.

Capitalize!

(Signed)Barrifield.

Perner read it, and it was handed to each of the others in turn. Then they looked at each other. Van Dorn said pleasantly:

"Why, yes; that's so. Capitalize! I hadn't thought of that. Stony, get up here and capitalize!"

Livingstone dug down in his pockets and brought up fifty-six cents.

"All right," he said. "That's every nickel I've got in the world. Let's capitalize!"

Almost immediately there came another telegram from Barrifield.

To the "Whole Family," New York.

Don't sell any of my stock.

(Signed)Barrifield.

This promptly sent Perner off into another fit of hysterics.

"Oh, no; don't sell any of his stock!" he howled. "Don't! Don't sell any of his stock! Please don't! Sell mine!"

XVII

A TELEGRAM FROM MISS DOROTHY CASTLE OF CLEVELAND TO MR. TRUMAN LIVINGSTONE OF NEW YORK

Cleveland, October 29, 1897.

To Truman Livingstone, c/o the "Whole Family", New York.

Don't give up. Check one thousand to-day. Use it. Letter.

10 paid

(Signed)Dorothy.

XVIII

GRABBING AT STRAWS

Barrifield arrived three days later and began at once his effort to secure capital. In this he was quite alone, as no one of the others made even an attempt to produce friends of financial ability. True, the Colonel, who was a friend of them all, and who at last knew something of the situation, declared that he would take a very satisfactory interest in the enterprise if the money he was expecting would but come. This event did not occur, however, and matters grew more precarious.

To be sure, the number of subscriptions increased somewhat for a time, and on one day in November reached the maximum of thirty-two. This, Perner figured, would give them something like ten thousand in a year if they could rely on that many every day. But on the next day the number was less than twenty, and the tendency continued downward.

As for Barrifield, he made a most noble effort. He interviewed men of means whom he had known for many years, and others whom he had known for less than as many minutes. He came in each evening to report. He spoke of capital as being "timid" at this season, but he never lost hope. The others, whose faith had become a mere rag, and who were inclined to regard further effort as a farce, still kept on, at his urging, preparing the second and third issues, though in a hopeless and half-hearted way. Some one has said that it is harder to stop a paper than to start one. The proprietors of the "Whole Family" realized this daily. The money coming in was far from sufficient for the expense, but it served to prolong the death agony from week to week.

Perner, who had carefully figured out by this time the impossibility of success from any standpoint, was for quitting forthwith and getting back to work. Van Dorn was somewhat inclined in the same direction; Livingstone also, perhaps, though he announced his readiness to stay in the field as long as there was anything to fight for. Barrifield and Colonel Hazard were for an effort to the death.