The Uncrowned King: The Sensational Rise of William Randolph Hearst (18 page)
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Authors: Kenneth Whyte
BOOK: The Uncrowned King: The Sensational Rise of William Randolph Hearst
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All of these men—Dana, Pulitzer, Reid—were pikers compared to the “mad commodore,” James Gordon Bennett Jr., champion yachtsman and owner of the money-spewing
New York Herald.
Bennett raised profligate living to a wild art. When he rode his bicycle around the block from his Fifth Avenue townhouse, his butler stood curbside with a silver tray and a glass of brandy to celebrate each lap. When he became bored with the townhouse, Bennett moved to his “country” manor in Washington Heights. He owned a spectacular Newport mansion and across the street from it a private club, the Casino, built after his boorish behavior forced his expulsion from the Newport Reading Room. He frequently entertained King Charles of Portugal at his Versailles estate, and English aristocracy at his shooting box in Scotland.
Herald
managers were sometimes summoned to his villa at Beaulieu-sur-Mer, between Nice and Monte Carlo, for staff meetings at the foot of his bed. From time to time, he was also spotted in the vicinity of his apartment on the Champs Élysées, driving his coach at reckless speeds, occasionally in the buff. Bennett, too, had hired Stanford White, not once but several times. The great architect outfitted the interior of the publisher’s yacht,
Namouna,
and designed his Casino at Newport. White was also commissioned to build a new headquarters for the
Herald.
Bennett had wanted it modeled after the Doge’s Palace in Venice, but White insisted on something a little less ostentatious, in the manner of Verona’s Palazzo del Consiglio. Bennett reluctantly agreed and immediately lost interest in the project. He traveled from residence to residence in the company of a large staff and some three dozen Pomeranians, Chihuahuas, cocker spaniels, and other small dogs.
38
New York Herald.
Bennett raised profligate living to a wild art. When he rode his bicycle around the block from his Fifth Avenue townhouse, his butler stood curbside with a silver tray and a glass of brandy to celebrate each lap. When he became bored with the townhouse, Bennett moved to his “country” manor in Washington Heights. He owned a spectacular Newport mansion and across the street from it a private club, the Casino, built after his boorish behavior forced his expulsion from the Newport Reading Room. He frequently entertained King Charles of Portugal at his Versailles estate, and English aristocracy at his shooting box in Scotland.
Herald
managers were sometimes summoned to his villa at Beaulieu-sur-Mer, between Nice and Monte Carlo, for staff meetings at the foot of his bed. From time to time, he was also spotted in the vicinity of his apartment on the Champs Élysées, driving his coach at reckless speeds, occasionally in the buff. Bennett, too, had hired Stanford White, not once but several times. The great architect outfitted the interior of the publisher’s yacht,
Namouna,
and designed his Casino at Newport. White was also commissioned to build a new headquarters for the
Herald.
Bennett had wanted it modeled after the Doge’s Palace in Venice, but White insisted on something a little less ostentatious, in the manner of Verona’s Palazzo del Consiglio. Bennett reluctantly agreed and immediately lost interest in the project. He traveled from residence to residence in the company of a large staff and some three dozen Pomeranians, Chihuahuas, cocker spaniels, and other small dogs.
38
Bennett and Pulitzer, Hearst’s most direct competitors for mass circulation, both derived incomes approaching $1 million a year from their papers. Bennett was said to enjoy the largest assured income in America next to Commodore Vanderbilt and William B. Astor. Pulitzer netted approximately $20 million in his first twenty years at the
World
, and his proceeds from his outside investments in some years exceeded those from publishing. Hearst may have paid $150,000 for his newspaper, but Pulitzer dropped the same sum on one pearl necklace for his wife, and Mrs. Pulitzer owned a lot of jewelry. Bennett was blithely losing $100,000 a year on the Paris edition of his
Herald,
and he was spending at least three times that on the annual upkeep of his yacht. The clock at his new Herald Building had cost more than Hearst paid for the
Journal.
39
Clearly, there were deep pockets up and down Park Row.
World
, and his proceeds from his outside investments in some years exceeded those from publishing. Hearst may have paid $150,000 for his newspaper, but Pulitzer dropped the same sum on one pearl necklace for his wife, and Mrs. Pulitzer owned a lot of jewelry. Bennett was blithely losing $100,000 a year on the Paris edition of his
Herald,
and he was spending at least three times that on the annual upkeep of his yacht. The clock at his new Herald Building had cost more than Hearst paid for the
Journal.
39
Clearly, there were deep pockets up and down Park Row.
Unfortunately, more direct comparisons of financial resources are impossible. Despite all the fuss about Hearst’s money and its impact on the newspaper industry, we have only the murkiest picture of his accounts. We know what he paid for the
Journal.
We know that he drove harder bargains and made his money go further than has been credited. We know that his mother had committed a million for his new paper, but that he didn’t receive the sum until the summer of 1896, and he probably didn’t spend more than a few hundred thousand in the interim, during which the
Journal
was substantially relaunched. We know that Stump expected the
Journal
’s monthly operating losses to be $20,000
40
and that, at the heights of the coming war, the paper would for several consecutive months lose approximately $150,000, much to Phoebe’s chagrin. It is likely that Will spent several million on the
Journal
—possibly as much as $5 million—before it began to pay.
Journal.
We know that he drove harder bargains and made his money go further than has been credited. We know that his mother had committed a million for his new paper, but that he didn’t receive the sum until the summer of 1896, and he probably didn’t spend more than a few hundred thousand in the interim, during which the
Journal
was substantially relaunched. We know that Stump expected the
Journal
’s monthly operating losses to be $20,000
40
and that, at the heights of the coming war, the paper would for several consecutive months lose approximately $150,000, much to Phoebe’s chagrin. It is likely that Will spent several million on the
Journal
—possibly as much as $5 million—before it began to pay.
Five million is not as much as Bennett Jr. and Pulitzer sank into their yachts, but it is a large sum. Much of Hearst’s cash went to capital assets, including what was probably the newspaper world’s most advanced printing plant, and all of it has to be considered an investment in establishing himself against entrenched competition in the richest publishing market in the world, an inherently expensive undertaking. His chief rivals could afford to match him dollar for dollar, and their competitive costs were lower than his (it requires far less to defend an established business than to grow a new one). There was always a chance he might get wiped out, but if Hearst succeeded, he would have a franchise capable of spinning out a million a year in profits and the nucleus of a national chain of newspapers. High risk, high reward.
What really distinguished Hearst from his fellow proprietors at the end of 1895—and what must have frightened them most—was not the wealth at his disposal but that he was young, talented, driven, and willing to put everything he had on the line in pursuit of his journalistic ambitions. He was far more interested in making a great paper than in turning a profit. He believed that if he conquered Park Row, his finances would sort themselves out. “I didn’t care about making money,” he said some years later, “at least not just to make money.”
41
One of his financial advisers expanded on this point: “Money as such bores him. His idea of money is that it is something to do something with. He is a builder. He wants to build buildings. . . . His idea is to build, build, build all the time.”
42
41
One of his financial advisers expanded on this point: “Money as such bores him. His idea of money is that it is something to do something with. He is a builder. He wants to build buildings. . . . His idea is to build, build, build all the time.”
42
No one was more astounded by Will’s attitude toward money than his mother’s banker, who was charged with delivering the funds she had earmarked for him. “I asked Will how he wanted the million paid to him,” Hosmer Parsons wrote Pheobe, “and he said ‘I don’t want any million, I would not know what to do with it.’” Will told Parsons he would prefer to simply draw what he needed from his mother as he went along. “There are not many in America,” wrote Parsons, “who would neglect a chance to claim a million of dollars.” The banker eventually convinced Hearst to deposit the sum in a trust company, and when the matter was finally settled, Parsons observed to Phoebe: “Will is a very peculiar man and cannot be judged by usual standards.”
43
43
Hearst was also peculiar among the New York newspaper barons in that he was willing to invest his full attention in his daily. Bennett had established and perfected the role of absentee proprietor, cabling his editors comments and instructions from across the Atlantic as though they were just across the hall. He rarely visited the
Herald
’s headquarters, or New York, for that matter. Pulitzer emulated Bennett in this regard. He traveled incessantly, never working a day under the golden dome of the World Building, yet he managed to exercise unquestioned control of his paper’s operations. Reid broke with Pulitzer and Bennett only in his willingness to delegate management responsibilities to trusted colleagues; he thought nothing of holding his editorship and various diplomatic postings simultaneously. Even Dana, in his dotage, was increasingly aloof from the
Sun,
publishing four books in a three-year span. Bennett, Pulitzer, Reid, and Dana—among the most admired editors in the history of American journalism—were the unmistakable leaders of their newspaper operations. But none of them was really at home at the moment the
Journal
rushed out of the gate.
Herald
’s headquarters, or New York, for that matter. Pulitzer emulated Bennett in this regard. He traveled incessantly, never working a day under the golden dome of the World Building, yet he managed to exercise unquestioned control of his paper’s operations. Reid broke with Pulitzer and Bennett only in his willingness to delegate management responsibilities to trusted colleagues; he thought nothing of holding his editorship and various diplomatic postings simultaneously. Even Dana, in his dotage, was increasingly aloof from the
Sun,
publishing four books in a three-year span. Bennett, Pulitzer, Reid, and Dana—among the most admired editors in the history of American journalism—were the unmistakable leaders of their newspaper operations. But none of them was really at home at the moment the
Journal
rushed out of the gate.
CHAPTER FOUR
A Kind of Rumba Accompanied by Snapping Fingers
J
oseph Pulitzer had many excellent qualities as an employer of newspaper executives. He was brilliant for starters. His various managers and handlers often left his presence feeling like they had encountered another order of human intelligence—who else could play several games of chess at once without looking at a board? They admired his courage and originality, his reforming zeal, his popular touch, his commercial instincts, and they reveled in his showmanship. Many of his executives would have agreed with his long-serving editor “Colonel” Cockerill that their boss was “the greatest journalist the world has ever known.”
1
He could be volatile, overbearing, and abusive at times, but otherwise he was good company.
oseph Pulitzer had many excellent qualities as an employer of newspaper executives. He was brilliant for starters. His various managers and handlers often left his presence feeling like they had encountered another order of human intelligence—who else could play several games of chess at once without looking at a board? They admired his courage and originality, his reforming zeal, his popular touch, his commercial instincts, and they reveled in his showmanship. Many of his executives would have agreed with his long-serving editor “Colonel” Cockerill that their boss was “the greatest journalist the world has ever known.”
1
He could be volatile, overbearing, and abusive at times, but otherwise he was good company.
Also, a certain prestige came with employment under Pulitzer’s golden dome. The
World
was the most popular and influential newspaper in the country, and status often trumps money when journalists make career choices. It is uncommon to see a talented executive voluntarily leave the management ranks of a great daily for a lesser one, at any salary. Pulitzer offered his men both eminence and the top pay on Park Row. Cockerill was pulling in a princely $15,000 a year by the end of his career, while the
World
’s business managers and managing editors routinely earned $10,000 or more. These not only were the top salaries in journalism but some of the highest in any line of work. Raises, bonuses, and prizes were awarded for outstanding work, which might be anything from writing a brilliant headline to producing a surge in advertising. Pulitzer feted his favorites with dinners, distributed silk hats and silver medals to celebrate circulation milestones, and gave fur coats as Christmas gifts.
World
was the most popular and influential newspaper in the country, and status often trumps money when journalists make career choices. It is uncommon to see a talented executive voluntarily leave the management ranks of a great daily for a lesser one, at any salary. Pulitzer offered his men both eminence and the top pay on Park Row. Cockerill was pulling in a princely $15,000 a year by the end of his career, while the
World
’s business managers and managing editors routinely earned $10,000 or more. These not only were the top salaries in journalism but some of the highest in any line of work. Raises, bonuses, and prizes were awarded for outstanding work, which might be anything from writing a brilliant headline to producing a surge in advertising. Pulitzer feted his favorites with dinners, distributed silk hats and silver medals to celebrate circulation milestones, and gave fur coats as Christmas gifts.
But there was a definite downside. The boss expected his talent to match his own phenomenal energy and commitment. Cockerill once described what was wanted of a
World
managing editor: “He should live at his desk and sleep under it. He has no right to have family, relatives, friends nor social obligations, and if ever he attempted to go north of Park Row, men should be stationed there with clubs to drive him back to his den.”
2
Pulitzer instructed one of his editors to spend six hours a day reading all available newspapers and dreaming up ideas; a few hours talking with his senior staff, handing out assignments and instructions; and several hours more “book reading to cultivate and equip your mind.”
3
Somewhere in between, the poor soul was to squeeze in his ample administrative duties, meals, and home life.
World
managing editor: “He should live at his desk and sleep under it. He has no right to have family, relatives, friends nor social obligations, and if ever he attempted to go north of Park Row, men should be stationed there with clubs to drive him back to his den.”
2
Pulitzer instructed one of his editors to spend six hours a day reading all available newspapers and dreaming up ideas; a few hours talking with his senior staff, handing out assignments and instructions; and several hours more “book reading to cultivate and equip your mind.”
3
Somewhere in between, the poor soul was to squeeze in his ample administrative duties, meals, and home life.
While the executives were expected to share in the burdens of piloting a great paper, public recognition was reserved for the proprietor. One of the most revealing letters ever written by Joseph Pulitzer was addressed to the loyal and talented Cockerill in 1886, at the height of their triumph in New York. It was a reaction to isolated comments from Park Row sources crediting the
World
’s success to Cockerill’s journalistic and commercial skill, and representing Pulitzer as the financier of the enterprise:
World
’s success to Cockerill’s journalistic and commercial skill, and representing Pulitzer as the financier of the enterprise:
I presume you have seen the remarkable notices given you by your friends in the press. These efforts to belittle me . . . I mean to stop. You might have stopped them in time yourself. I have waited for some time, hoping that your own sense of right would have induced you to tell your friends what you, of all men, must know to be false.You know that my primary object and ambition in journalism was always intellectual and honorable—not for mere money-making. . . . I always was, and always shall be, editor first and proprietor only secondly. But, if what your friends say is true, you ought to own the paper and I ought to be in your employ.You know how fond I am of you. You know how much I appreciate your tact, talent and brightness—even if you do not seem to appreciate me. . . . But I will not tolerate even by my silence for you what I know to be a gross injustice. I want you to know exactly how I feel in this matter.If I am not a self-made man you never knew one. If I was not the real, actual head in building up my two newspapers nobody ever could be. You, better than anybody, must know that every cardinal constructive idea that created the
World
and the
Post-Dispatch
was mine and mine only.
This letter, published in the trade papers several years after Cockerill’s death (and unnoticed since), was received on Park Row as evidence of Pulitzer’s consuming vanity and imperious, demeaning management style.
4
4
He did have a perverse streak: it was one thing to ask employees to work hard, but Pulitzer adopted extreme methods to ensure his men were constantly on their toes and earning their pay. Senior managers were assigned overlapping responsibilities and required to report to him on one another’s work habits, morale, and overall performance. Inevitably, these reports, reaching him in Bar Harbor or Monte Carlo or wherever he might be, were tainted by self-interest and malice, but Pulitzer would take them to heart. His managers grew accustomed to receiving in person or by wire scorching criticisms of their efforts, including indictments of their work ethic and personal habits that their employer could not possibly have observed first-hand. Pulitzer expected executives to take this medicine with a cheerfulness entirely absent from his own manner. “Don’t be sensitive,” he wrote one of his managing editors, “if I should in future seem brusque, harsh, or even unjust in my criticism. I sincerely hope I never shall be; but if I should, remember that fault-finding is perhaps both my privilege and my weakness, that correction is the only road to improvement, and that my quick temper and illness are entitled to some consideration.”
5
Both the volume and the sharpness of his fault-finding increased in the early 1890s as his deteriorating eyesight and long forays abroad left him more dependent on his managers.
5
Both the volume and the sharpness of his fault-finding increased in the early 1890s as his deteriorating eyesight and long forays abroad left him more dependent on his managers.
In addition to promoting internal rivalries, Pulitzer fought what he imagined to be the complacency of his staff with a constant shuffling of responsibilities. The columns of the trade journals routinely burst with news of promotions, demotions, sidelinings, and resignations among
World
executives. Just four years before Hearst’s arrival in New York, Cockerill refused to accept a demotion and quit as editor of the
World.
His Pulitzer-imposed rival, the haughty and talented Ballard Smith, took up his responsibilities. The following year, 1892, Ballard Smith was found wanting and was shipped off to London as a correspondent, replaced by George Harvey. S.S. Carvalho was put in charge of business operations with complete control of spending. John Dillon, only recently hired as business manager, was redirected to the editorial page, while John Norris was picked up from the
Philadelphia Record
to serve as Carvalho’s rival in the counting room. It took only a year for Carvalho and Norris to stop speaking to one another. They communicated by notes. When George Harvey failed to meet expectations as editor, possibly as a result of a bout of pneumonia, Pulitzer reached for a grand solution. He had invited Colonel Charles H. Jones of the
Missouri Republican
to spend a week with him in Bar Harbor, and on that brief acquaintance Jones arrived at the dome in July 1893 with a letter of instruction giving him full run of the paper.
6
Carvalho, Harvey, and their various rivals were dumbfounded but quickly rallied and cooperated long enough to undermine the newcomer. They sank Jones in a matter of weeks, capitalizing on the fact that he had flouted a cardinal rule by editorializing against Pulitzer’s political preferences. The dysfunctional team of Carvalho and Norris was back in harness by the time Hearst purchased the
Journal.
7
World
executives. Just four years before Hearst’s arrival in New York, Cockerill refused to accept a demotion and quit as editor of the
World.
His Pulitzer-imposed rival, the haughty and talented Ballard Smith, took up his responsibilities. The following year, 1892, Ballard Smith was found wanting and was shipped off to London as a correspondent, replaced by George Harvey. S.S. Carvalho was put in charge of business operations with complete control of spending. John Dillon, only recently hired as business manager, was redirected to the editorial page, while John Norris was picked up from the
Philadelphia Record
to serve as Carvalho’s rival in the counting room. It took only a year for Carvalho and Norris to stop speaking to one another. They communicated by notes. When George Harvey failed to meet expectations as editor, possibly as a result of a bout of pneumonia, Pulitzer reached for a grand solution. He had invited Colonel Charles H. Jones of the
Missouri Republican
to spend a week with him in Bar Harbor, and on that brief acquaintance Jones arrived at the dome in July 1893 with a letter of instruction giving him full run of the paper.
6
Carvalho, Harvey, and their various rivals were dumbfounded but quickly rallied and cooperated long enough to undermine the newcomer. They sank Jones in a matter of weeks, capitalizing on the fact that he had flouted a cardinal rule by editorializing against Pulitzer’s political preferences. The dysfunctional team of Carvalho and Norris was back in harness by the time Hearst purchased the
Journal.
7
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