The Uncrowned King: The Sensational Rise of William Randolph Hearst (12 page)

BOOK: The Uncrowned King: The Sensational Rise of William Randolph Hearst
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Gould brazenly asked $500,000 for his crippled sheet. Pulitzer gulped hard and begged for time. He visited his brother, Albert, who had successfully launched the
Journal
a year earlier, and asked his advice. Albert responded that New York was not big enough for two Pulitzers. Undeterred, Joseph bought the money-bleeding
World
the next day, for $346,000, payable in installments. It was a steep price but justified in part by the paper’s potential and the new plant Gould had installed. In another three days, Pulitzer announced himself in the
World
’s pages as its new editor and proprietor with the following prospectus:
There is room in this great and growing city for a journal that is not only cheap but bright, not only bright but large, not only large but truly democratic—dedicated to the cause of the people rather than that of purse potentates—devoted more to the news of the new than the old world, that will expose all fraud and sham, fight all public evils and abuses—that will serve and battle for the people with earnest sincerity.
32
 
 
 
The whole of the New York media world yawned. In fact, the only paper to greet the
World
’s new owner was the
Sun.
“Mr. Pulitzer,” wrote Dana, “possesses a quick and fluent mind with a good share of originality and brightness; but he has always seemed to us rather deficient in judgment and in staying power. . . . Anyway, we tender all sorts of friendly wishes.” Given Dana’s disdain for competitors and the fact that Pulitzer was stepping onto his populist Democratic turf, those were warm regards indeed. Pulitzer, thirty-six years old to Dana’s sixty-four, printed an unctuous reply: “If the editor of the
World
has shown deficiency of judgment heretofore, it has been because he has tried not only to imitate, but even to excel the
Sun
in its truthfulness, fearlessness, independence and vigor.”
33
 
The war was on.
 
 
PULITZER’S AMBITION WAS NOT merely to break into New York but to push the boundaries of mass appeal for newspapers in a great commercial market. New York was riding the crest of America’s phenomenal postbellum economic expansion and drawing to its streets many of the hundreds of thousands of immigrants arriving on the nation’s shores each year. Mushrooming ethnic communities were chipping away at the political and cultural domination of the city’s Anglo-Protestant elite. They peppered New York politics with German socialism and Irish nationalism, and shook the established parties with a new pitch of working-class assertiveness. They worked hard and earned good incomes and supported booming markets in packaged goods, ready-made clothing, domestic appliances, and newspapers. They patronized a fresh abundance of popular cultural attractions: Coney Island and West Brighton; the Bowery’s variety shows; Harrigan and Hart on Broadway. They were remaking and democratizing New York, and Pulitzer would give them a daily that caught the manifold spirit of their burgeoning city.
 
Everything, for Pulitzer, started with popular appeal: “If a newspaper is to be of real service to the public, it must have a big circulation, first because its news and its comments must reach the largest possible number of people, second because circulation means advertising, and advertising means money, and money means independence.”
34
Like all successful publishers, Pulitzer sometimes placed money ahead of all other considerations, but he was genuinely committed to his notion of public service. He rightly believed that financial success allowed a newspaper to stand with its readers against powerful political and business interests.
 
Pulitzer’s version of the much-for-little strategy was to keep the
World
’s price at two cents while doubling its size to eight pages, twice that of the now identically priced
Sun
and one or two cents cheaper than the larger
Times, Tribune,
and
Herald
(all of which were now selling for three or four cents). Pulitzer would soon increase his paper from eight to ten pages and sometimes twelve. These measures were aggressive, but not recklessly so. Sharp declines in the cost of newsprint and a range of technological efficiencies had made larger newspapers more affordable to produce. Pulitzer was further blessed by a booming advertising market as retailers and promoters turned more and more to the dailies to chase mass audiences for their wares and services. Advertising spending in newspapers increased from $39 million in 1880 to $150 million in 1900. Circulation revenue was still the engine of newspaper growth and the key to attracting advertising, but the day was fast approaching when advertising would become “the very soul of the concern,” as Lincoln Steffens phrased it.
35
 
Pulitzer’s high page count permitted him to diversify the contents of his paper and broaden its appeal. All of the major papers in New York covered politics and public affairs along with business, crime, scandal, disaster, and sport. Pulitzer offered more of everything and gave conspicuous prominence to his human-interest fare—the murders, shipwrecks, big games and society weddings. Pulitzer saw New York as a bustling, boisterous city, with drama and wonder on every street corner, and he wanted all of that captured for his pages. A
World
reporter would no longer gather news at the bar of his club. He would venture out and discover it among ordinary working-class people. Pulitzer’s instructions to his new staff were blunt: “Gentlemen, you realize that a change has taken place. . . . Heretofore you have all been living in the parlour and taking baths every day. Now I wish you to understand that, in future, you are all walking down the Bowery.”
36
 
They would walk briskly, too. Whereas Dana counseled his men never to hurry, Pulitzer, flapping about his newsroom, eyes gleaming through pince-nez, made clear by example that his men could never move fast enough. News would be sold fresh and the writing would be snappy. Cockerill, shipped in from St. Louis, demanded sharp verbs, clear descriptions, strong emotions, and a tight delivery—“Condense! Condense!” became the
World
’s battle cry. “It seemed as if a cyclone had entered the building,” recalled one reporter of Pulitzer’s first days.
37
A number of old hands immediately quit. They were promptly replaced.
 
Pulitzer was acutely aware that New York readers had a choice of newspapers and that commuters and pedestrians made quick decisions each day about which to purchase. It followed that everything about his
World
must work a little harder than its competitors to call attention to itself. The paper would make generous use of cartoons and illustration. Headlining became bold and, at times, operatic. On the last day of Gould’s proprietorship, the
World
presented front-page stories with strictly informational headlines: “Affairs at Albany,” “Mr. Vanderbilt ’s Trip,” and “Bench Show of Dogs.” On Pulitzer’s first day, the headlines started telling stories: “The Deadly Lightning,” “A Fortune Squandered in Drink,” “Married and Taken to Jail,” and “Cornetti’s Last Night.”
 
Cornetti, a condemned man, received even more dramatic treatment with the next day’s report of his hanging:
SCREAMING FOR MERCY.
HOW THE CRAVENCORNETTI
MOUNTED THE SCAFFOLD.
 
Gagged and Pinioned by the Guards and
Dragged Resisting to a Prayer-less Doom
38
 
 
 
The
World
’s politics were attention-getting as well, and neatly tailored to middle- and working-class audiences. Pulitzer called for taxes on luxuries, taxes on inheritances, taxes on large incomes, taxes on monopolies. He made his paper an enemy of vote-buying, police brutality, unfair labor practices, and monopolistic greed. He clamored for safer food and housing. He was merciless in his lampoons of the so-called purse potentates with their vulgar Manhattan chateaux and their valets outside their opera boxes. He hammered the same themes relentlessly. The “red thread of continuous policy,” he liked to say, would win allies, create enemies, and make the New York
World
important.
39
 
To counterbalance the paper’s constant finger-wagging, Pulitzer gave it an exuberant public spirit and engaged in unabashed celebrations of New York. The Brooklyn Bridge opened two weeks after he acquired the paper. A massive undertaking, thirteen years in the works and the longest suspension bridge on earth, it was a remarkable engineering feat in America and the pride of New York’s Italian and German communities, which had done much of the work. Pulitzer published a special edition and devoted his entire front page to the bridge. He ran a front-page four-column woodcut of its span, reportedly the first time the
World
had illustrated a news story, and enjoyed a phenomenal sale.
 
Critics dismissed the
World
as crude and sensationalistic. They could not stomach its gaudy tones and raw emotion, its politics or its salesman-ship. They worried for the future of the elite dailies to which they themselves subscribed. But readers were galvanized by Pulitzer’s paper. Whatever it lacked in subtlety and intellectual heft (far less than is often imagined), the
World
was flat-out exciting. It left Dana’s
Sun,
for one, looking tired and gray. Pulitzer’s circulation popped from 28,000 in May to around 40,000 by autumn. “[The
World
] had no infancy,” he would later boast. “At once it sprang into full vigor.”
40
While he was doing little that had not been done before, he was doing it so well and energetically that it was accepted in New York as a “new journalism.”
 
Having ignored Pulitzer’s entry to the market, the competition now panicked. The
Times
and the
Herald,
selling at four and three cents respectively, cut their cover prices to two cents. The
Tribune
dropped from four cents to three. Pulitzer crowed that they had handed him the city. He was guessing, correctly, that the price cuts would only underscore his success in the eyes of readers and advertisers while doing nothing to help his competitors’ circulations.
 
Dana did not join the rush to cut prices. With little advertising in his pages, he could not afford the loss of circulation revenue. But, beyond that, he felt no pressure to make a cut. He was still the market leader, selling 147,000 copies a day. Pulitzer’s readers, he surmised, were either new to the daily habit or drawn from other papers. The
World
’s fast start had not yet put a dent in the
Sun,
so Dana would stand pat. But not for long.
 
 
 
MOST NEWSPAPERS toward the end of the nineteenth century claimed to be politically independent. That meant they were no longer operated or subsidized by partisan political interests. But an editor’s endorsement could still make or break a paper in a presidential year. Immediately on taking the
World
’s reins, Pulitzer had begun advancing New York governor Grover Cleveland for the 1884 Democratic nomination. Given that the
Tribune,
the
Times,
and most other papers in town tilted Republican, Dana’s
Sun
was the only important paper expected to follow suit. The
Sun
was closely identified with the Democrats and had championed Cleveland for governor two years earlier, but Dana was unpredictable.
 
For all his talents, Dana sometimes allowed personal grievances to play havoc with his paper’s politics, and he could make a nuisance of himself trying to convert the
Sun
’s electoral support into offices for himself, friends and family. After the 1882 election, for instance, he had written Cleveland, then the newly elected governor of New York, suggesting an appointment or two in his administration. Cleveland failed even to respond to the letter and Dana sulkily backed a nonstarter, Greenback Labor candidate Benjamin F. Butler, in 1884. Blinded by spite and completely underestimating the
World
as a competitive threat, he made his paper irrelevant in a presidential year. The
Sun
’s circulation, proudly recorded atop its editorial page, sunk from 137,000 at the start of 1884 to 85,000 by November. Dana would soon quit publishing his circulation number altogether.
 
Cleveland won the 1884 election and the
World
sold a whopping 264,378 copies the morning after the vote. Many of those were bought by former
Sun
readers who would never return to Dana’s fold. Pulitzer also had a personal victory to celebrate: he had let his name stand for Congress in the Ninth District of New York, and the voters had chosen him as their representative.
41
 
Dana’s problems ran deeper than his nonsensical endorsement of Butler. The advent of the
World
had exposed a fundamental weakness in his style. The
Sun
still sided with what it called the “producing classes” against the financial and political elites, but from first to last, Dana’s paper reflected the sophisticated interests, tastes, and humor of its supremely intelligent editor. Its relationship with its audience was arm’slength and paternalistic; its tone was seldom warmer than wry detachment. Dana may have been
for
the people—as in his famous slogan, “The
Sun
Shines for All”—but he was not
of
the people. Pulitzer’s
World
had locked arms with working men and women, taking their enthusiasms, aspirations, and emotions as its own. It pleaded their cases and fought their battles and it became their paper.

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