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Page 5
"I've been corresponding with the secretary of the magazine owners for
some time," said Thacker, briskly. "I'm a practical magazine man
myself, and a circulation booster as good as any, if I do say it.
I'll guarantee an increase of anywhere from ten thousand to a hundred
thousand a year for any publication that isn't printed in a dead
language. I've had my eye on The Rose of Dixie ever since it started.
I know every end of the business from editing to setting up the
classified ads. Now, I've come down here to put a good bunch of money
in the magazine, if I can see my way clear. It ought to be made to
pay. The secretary tells me it's losing money. I don't see why a
magazine in the South, if it's properly handled, shouldn't get a
good circulation in the North, too.
"Colonel Telfair leaned back in his chair and polished his gold-rimmed
glasses.
"Mr. Thacker," said he, courteously but firmly, "The Rose of Dixie is
a publication devoted to the fostering and the voicing of Southern
genius. Its watchword, which you may have seen on the cover, is 'Of,
For, and By the South.'"
"But you wouldn't object to a Northern circulation, would you?" asked
Thacker.
"I suppose," said the editor-colonel, "that it is customary to open
the circulation lists to all. I do not know. I have nothing to do
with the business affairs of the magazine. I was called upon to
assume editorial control of it, and I have devoted to its conduct such
poor literary talents as I may possess and whatever store of erudition
I may have acquired."
"Sure," said Thacker. "But a dollar is a dollar anywhere, North,
South, or West--whether you're buying codfish, goober peas, or Rocky
Ford cantaloupes. Now, I've been looking over your November number.
I see one here on your desk. You don't mind running over it with me?
"Well, your leading article is all right. A good write-up of the
cotton-belt with plenty of photographs is a winner any time. New York
is always interested in the cotton crop. And this sensational account
of Hatfield-McCoy feud, by a schoolmate of a niece of the Governor of
Kentucky, isn't such a bad idea. It happened so long ago that most
people have forgotten it. Now, here's a poem three pages long called
'The Tyrant's Foot,' by Lorella Lascelles. I've pawed around a good
deal over manuscripts, but I never saw her name on a rejection slip."
"Miss Lascelles," said the editor, "is one of our most widely
recognized Southern poetesses. She is closely related to the Alabama
Lascelles family, and made with her own hands the silken Confederate
banner that was presented to the governor of that state at his
inauguration."
"But why," persisted Thacker, "is the poem illustrated with a view of
the M. & 0. Railroad freight depot at Tuscaloosa?"
"The illustration," said the colonel, with dignity, "shows a corner of
the fence surrounding the old homestead where Miss Lascelles was
born."
"All right," said Thacker. "I read the poem, but I couldn't tell
whether it was about the depot of the battle of Bull Run. Now, here's
a short story called 'Rosies' Temptation,' by Fosdyke Piggott. It's
rotten. What is a Piggott, anyway?"
"Mr. Piggott," said the editor, "is a brother of the principal
stockholder of the magazine."
"All's right with the world--Piggott passes," said Thacker. "Well
this article on Arctic exploration and the one on tarpon fishing might
go. But how about this write-up of the Atlanta, New Orleans,
Nashville, and Savannah breweries? It seems to consist mainly of
statistics about their output and the quality of their beer. What's
the chip over the bug?"
"If I understand your figurative language," answered Colonel Telfair,
"it is this: the article you refer to was handed to me by the owners
of the magazine with instructions to publish it. The literary quality
of it did not appeal to me. But, in a measure, I feel impelled to
conform, in certain matters, to the wishes of the gentlemen who are
interested in the financial side of The Rose."
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