The Uncrowned King: The Sensational Rise of William Randolph Hearst (63 page)

BOOK: The Uncrowned King: The Sensational Rise of William Randolph Hearst
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Dana had a sixth sense for newspaper talent and he favored erudition: “I had rather take a young fellow who knows the ‘Ajax’ of Sophocles, and has read Tacitus, and can scan every ode of Horace—I would rather take him to report a prize fight or a spelling match, for instance, than to take one who has never had those advantages.”
5
The nineteen-year-old Brisbane knew not only his classics but French and German literature besides. That he was a stranger to New York and had only a loose grasp of written English did not bother Dana—the young man was dazzling in every other regard. He stood just under six feet tall, with the broad shoulders and slim hips of a boxer. His tall forehead, keen blue eyes, aquiline nose, and strong chin made for a handsome, intelligent face under soft curls of fair hair. His manners were a tad artificial but nonetheless exquisite. He was bright, witty, brimming with confidence, and instantly likable. Dana hired him as a reporter on the
Evening Sun
at $15 a week.
 
Brisbane’s early copy was awkward, largely because he wrote in French and used a pocket dictionary to translate into English. But as he grew comfortable with his mother tongue, he displayed an ear for idiom and the ability to write with both speed and clarity. He also became a hit with his fellow
Sun
reporters, who considered themselves the elite of Park Row. They had initially dismissed him on account of his manners and foppish wardrobe, but when they raced from the office to Mouquin’s bistro on Fulton, Brisbane never lost and he was the only one among them who had sparred with Gentleman Jim Corbett. After eighteen months on the job, Brisbane was as diligent, popular, and valuable as any reporter on staff. When he announced he was quitting the
Sun
to join his father in England, Dana appointed him the
Sun
’s London correspondent rather than lose him.
 
Brisbane rented an excellent suite at the Victoria Hotel, freshened his wardrobe—hats from Lock’s, shoes from Lobb’s, socks specially designed with a stall for each toe—and announced the formation of the Albert and Arthur Brisbane News Service. He presented himself as a grand journalistic ambassador rather than a simple hack, and people took him at his own estimation. He was invited to the better parties and introduced to leading political figures, becoming intimate with the Gladstone family. He followed Jack the Ripper’s trail through the slums of Whitechapel and traveled to the mainland to interview Pope Leo XIII. His most famous piece from this period was a ringside account of the John L. Sullivan-Charlie Mitchell fight at Chantilly in 1888. Brisbane quoted Mitchell’s corner man pleading with him between rounds: “Think of the kids, Charlie. The dear little kids a callin’ for you at home and a countin’ on you for bread. Think of what their feelings will be if you don’t knock the ear off him. . . .”
6
 
When Brisbane returned to New York to serve as managing editor of the
Evening Sun
, an enormous responsibility for a man of twenty-four years, one of his first acts was to hire a young Richard Harding Davis. They became pals, a pair of dashing, athletic dandies who never missed a first night, spent afternoons at the track and weekends in the country, and still found time to exercise their prodigious journalistic talents. Although a half year older, Davis was Brisbane’s protégé. As Arthur Lubow notes, Brisbane was a flesh-and-blood exemplar of the European manners and pretensions Davis knew only from literature and the stage. He would show up for dinner wearing “a pink evening coat, white waist-coat and . . . a white tie, somewhat sketchily arranged.”
7
He was fond of grand gestures, never sending a bouquet when a crate of roses would do. “It is no wonder he is popular,” Davis wrote of Brisbane. “He is a most remarkable young man.”
8
 
Joseph Pulitzer thought so too. He purchased the
World
around the time Brisbane started at the
Evening Sun.
In 1890, he outbid Dana for the young editor’s services. Brisbane began at the
World
as a feature correspondent, covering among other events the first electrocution at Sing Sing prison, an event that turned his face a greenish white and left him shaking and sick. A more momentous assignment was the 1892 strike at Homestead, Pennsylvania, in which thousands of men, women, and children supporting the Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel Workers engaged in low-grade combat with several hundred well-armed Pinkerton agents hired by the Carnegie Steel Company. It was one of the bloodiest episodes in American labor history and while the majority of Park Row dailies sided with Carnegie, the
World
backed the strikers, with Brisbane doing much of the reporting. His support was sincere. As Charles Edward Russell remembered, “We were a couple of radicals in those days and after the paper had gone to press, we would sit and talk for hours and hours on sociological matters. Brisbane at that time was at least as radical as I was. I heard him say on many occasions that he was more than willing to sacrifice himself for the cause of the common people. In fact, he declared himself willing to go to jail for them.”
9
 
Pulitzer, for his part, was not about to let Brisbane sacrifice himself to any cause but his employer. Growing fond of the young man, he adopted him as a traveling companion, taking him to Europe in the winter of 1893-94. Pulitzer wasn’t the best company. His jangled nerves were once again ruining his temper; he slept fitfully and ate heavily. Brisbane, something of a fitness nut, encouraged him to cut his food intake by half and to take regular exercise. He got him on horseback, much to Mrs. Pulitzer’s amazement, and in time Pulitzer’s health showed modest improvement. Alone among
World
employees, Brisbane did not fear his boss. He addressed him with mild impudence as “Uncle Joe,” bore his ill humors with equanimity, and took advantage of his blindness to rob him at poker (a mischief Brisbane cheerfully confessed). Pulitzer offered him the position of personal secretary but Brisbane turned it down, eager to return to full-time journalism.
 
Brisbane had served Pulitzer for five years when Goddard and the entire staff quit to join Hearst. Summoning what one colleague called his “absolutely unassailable courage,” Brisbane volunteered to assemble a team and rebuild the Sunday edition.
10
To everyone’s astonishment, circulation neither collapsed nor lagged but actually climbed. Brisbane’s Easter edition sold a whopping 600,000 copies. His Christmas special hit 623,000, matching Goddard’s Sunday
Journal
for wonder and excitement.
11
 
Pulitzer was grateful for Brisbane’s Sunday miracle for a few short months until the conservative papers took up their decency crusade at the end of 1896 and Pulitzer began looking for someone to blame. It was difficult to locate the sinners. To read the
Sun
and the
Press,
recalled Don Seitz, one would think the
World
was staffed “by a combination of ghouls and perverts,” when in fact “at no time in its history had the paper been so respectably manned.”
12
Almost everyone on staff had been hired from the
Sun
or the
Herald,
and quite a number were college-educated, or the sons of clergymen or upstanding families. Eventually, Pulitzer put the finger on Brisbane, not without some help.
 
One of Brisbane’s internal rivals in Pulitzer’s employ was E.O. Chamberlin, another former
Sun
employee, whose news sense, according to Russell, was that of a “dull, sane, Christian gentleman, solely desiring to impart information.”
13
He implicated Brisbane to Pulitzer and recommended his stodgy self as the solution to the paper’s injured reputation. Pulitzer made Chamberlin editorial manager in charge of everything. No shrinking violet, Brisbane demanded to see the boss, but could not get a meeting. On learning that Pulitzer was headed to Jekyll Island in his private rail car, he bought a ticket on the same train and tried to barge into Pulitzer’s compartment, but his boss caught wind of his presence and installed a guard outside the door. Brisbane remained on the train and finally gained a hearing at Jekyll Island. He could do nothing, however, to assuage Pulitzer’s panic or to reverse his decision. Chamberlin remained in charge for three months until wobbly circulation numbers forced Pulitzer to reconsider his priorities and Brisbane was restored.
 
Indeed, by late May of 1897, Pulitzer, in yet another shuffle, appointed Brisbane to work his circulation magic at the
Evening World.
14
Brisbane toiled around the clock and literally lived under the Dome—he converted a small square office space on the seventh floor into an apartment. Overlooking Park Row, the room contained a bed, a screen, a washstand, a chiffonier, and a small table and chairs; it was decorated with copper kettles and an array of French paintings. He was a committed
World
man. When Russell was offered a position at the
Journal,
Brisbane did his best to change his mind, keeping him up all night with his arguments. “Brisbane was eloquent and logical,” recalled Russell, “and had me almost convinced that I had made a mistake.”
15
With the sky turning red in the east, Brisbane made a final appeal to phrenology, insisting that Hearst could not win the newspaper war because Pulitzer had the better-shaped head, indicating superior intellectual endowments. Russell resigned from the
World
regardless. He was shocked, two months later, when Brisbane followed him to the
Journal.
 
The conventional story is that Brisbane left Pulitzer over a byline dispute. It had long been Brisbane’s ambition to write a column on the front page of either the morning or the evening edition of the
World
under his own name, independent of the newspaper’s standing editorial policy. Pulitzer would not have it. There was only one editorial voice at the morning and evening
World
s
,
he insisted: “[These] newspapers belong to me and so long as I live, no one will express an independent editorial opinion in my newspapers.”
16
Unhappy with that answer, Brisbane waited until Pulitzer was out of town and produced a first-person column that ran on the front page of the evening paper for several weeks. He thought it was working well and expected Pulitzer to wire him congratulations. Instead, he received an angry rebuke. Shortly thereafter, the story goes, Brisbane accepted Hearst’s offer of a fat paycheck to edit the
Evening Journal.
That is hardly the only account of his defection, however.
 
Russell maintains that Brisbane left the
World
to pursue his dream of a more radical paper than could be realized in Pulitzer’s shadow, and yet another story has Brisbane leaving after a quarrel over money. Pulitzer sometimes worried about the high salaries he paid. “It oughtn’t to cost very much to get socialist editorials written,” he would complain. And Brisbane would fire back: “It would cost a good deal to get them well written by a man who believes in them.”
17
In a bout of cost consciousness in the summer of 1897, Pulitzer reportedly slashed Brisbane’s bonus, precipitating his departure. Hearst himself, in an unpublished interview about Brisbane, endorsed this version of events:
[Mr. Pulitzer] deducted the bonus . . . and that irritated Mr. Brisbane very much, and he left the
World
and he . . . came in to see me and I said I would like to have him with us, and told him to talk terms with Mr. Palmer our business manager, and Mr. Palmer engaged him for $10,000 a year. Now he had been getting $15,000 on the
World,
with the bonus in addition, and Mr. Palmer told me that he had made a very good business deal with Mr. Brisbane.
 
I said, I didn’t think it was a good business deal—it was a good deal—but not a good business deal [and] that Mr. Brisbane ought to have more money, and ought to have something to look forward to in the way of appreciation. So I made an arrangement, a circulation arrangement with him, lasting over a definite period.
18
 
 
 
A schoolteacher named Anne Brown whom Brisbane was dating at the time also saw pecuniary interests behind his move. She disliked Hearst and his newspapers. She wanted Brisbane to strike out on his own and was crushed when he signed at the
Journal.
“I wouldn’t dine with him or go out with him—didn’t see him,” she says. “I said he could have his choice, the Hearst paper or me, and he chose Hearst. . . . I didn’t see him anymore.”
19
 
Brisbane may also have moved out of concern for his professional status. He had begun his journalism career at the top Democratic newspaper in New York; he moved from the
Sun
to the
World
when Pulitzer surpassed Dana; he now jumped again as the trades proclaimed Hearst to be trouncing Pulitzer. The
Journalist
had begun a running tally of the
Journal
news beats at the
World
’s expense: “That great paper which the genius of Pulitzer built up from the condition of a corpse on the dissecting table to the liveliest sheet in New York, if not in the United States, is scooped every day of its existence.”
20
 
Days before Brisbane announced his move, the
Journalist
marked the first anniversary of Hearst’s evening paper by complimenting Richard Farrelly and S.S. Carvalho on its remarkable progress: “Its circulation is soaring upwards, like a crazy kite.”
21
The Fourth Estate
applauded its “vast popularity,” “distinct individuality,” daily scoops, and abundant advertising.
22
With Hearst making his charge in the afternoon market, Brisbane had to be worried about his own reputation and the standing of the
Evening World.
He had unshakable confidence in his own abilities, but Pulitzer’s bouts of economizing, attacks of respectability, and erratic management style put Brisbane at a competitive disadvantage against the
Evening Journal.
If he stayed, he was facing an imminent eclipse.

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