The personnel of the Scribner house was very youthful from the members of the firm clear down the line.It was veritably a house of young men.
The story is told of a Boston publisher, sedate and fairly elderly, who came to the Scribner house to transact business with several of its departments.One of his errands concerning itself with advertising, he was introduced to Bok, who was then twenty-four.Looking the youth over, he transacted his business as well as he felt it could be transacted with a manager of such tender years, and then sought the head of the educational department: this brought him to another young man of twenty-four.
With his yearnings for some one more advanced in years full upon him, the visitor now inquired for the business manager of the new magazine, only to find a man of twenty-six.His next introduction was to the head of the out-of-town business department, who was twenty-seven.
At this point the Boston man asked to see Mr.Scribner.This disclosed to him Mr.Arthur H.Scribner, the junior partner, who owned to twenty-eight summers.Mustering courage to ask faintly for Mr.Charles Scribner himself, he finally brought up in that gentleman's office only to meet a man just turning thirty-three!
"This is a young-looking crowd," said Mr.Scribner one day, looking over his young men.And his eye rested on Bok."Particularly you, Bok.
Doubleday looks his years better than you do, for at least he has a moustache." Then, contemplatively: "You raise a moustache, Bok, and I'll raise your salary."This appealed to Bok very strongly, and within a month he pointed out the result to his employer."Stand in the light here," said Mr.
Scribner."Well, yes," he concluded dubiously, "it's there--something at least.All right; I'll keep my part of the bargain."He did.But the next day he was nonplussed to see that the moustache had disappeared from the lip of his youthful advertising manager."Couldn't quite stand it, Mr.Scribner," was the explanation."Besides, you didn't say I should keep it: you merely said to raise it."But the increase did not follow the moustache.To Bok's great relief, it stuck!
This youthful personnel, while it made for esprit de corps, had also its disadvantages.One day as Bok was going out to lunch, he found a small-statured man, rather plainly dressed, wandering around the retail department, hoping for a salesman to wait on him.The young salesman on duty, full of inexperience, had a ready smile and quick service ever ready for "carriage trade," as he called it; but this particular customer had come afoot, and this, together with his plainness of dress, did not impress the young salesman.His attention was called to the wandering customer, and it was suggested that he find out what was wanted.When Bok returned from lunch, the young salesman, who, with a beaming smile, had just most ceremoniously bowed the plainly dressed little customer out of the street-door, said: "You certainly struck it rich that time when you suggested my waiting on that little man! Such an order! Been here ever since.Did you know who it was?""No," returned Bok."Who was it?"
"Andrew Carnegie," beamed the salesman.
Another youthful clerk in the Scribner retail bookstore, unconscious of the customer's identity, waited one day on the wife of Mark Twain.
Mrs.Clemens asked the young salesman for a copy of Taine's Ancient Regime.
"Beg pardon," said the clerk, "what book did you say?"Mrs.Clemens repeated the author and title of the book.
Going to the rear of the store, the clerk soon returned, only to inquire: "May I ask you to repeat the name of the author?""Taine, T-a-i-n-e," replied Mrs.Clemens.
Then did the youthfulness of the salesman assert itself.Assuming an air of superior knowledge, and looking at the customer with an air of sympathy, he corrected Mrs.Clemens:
"Pardon me, madam, but you have the name a trifle wrong.You mean Twain-not Taine."With so many young men of the same age, there was a natural sense of team-work and a spirit of comradeship that made for successful co-operation.This spirit extended outside of business hours.At luncheon there was a Scribner table in a neighboring restaurant, and evenings saw the Scribner department heads mingling as friends.It was a group of young men who understood and liked each other, with the natural result that business went easier and better because of it.
But Bok did not have much time for evening enjoyment, since his outside interests had grown and prospered and they kept him busy.His syndicate was regularly supplying over a hundred newspapers: his literary letter had become an established feature in thirty different newspapers.
Of course, his opportunities for making this letter interesting were unusual.Owing to his Scribner connection, however, he had taken his name from the letter and signed that of his brother.He had, also, constantly to discriminate between the information that he could publish without violation of confidence and that which he felt he was not at liberty to print.This gave him excellent experience; for the most vital of all essentials in the journalist is the ability unerringly to decide what to print and what to regard as confidential.
Of course, the best things that came to him he could not print.Whenever there was a question, he gave the benefit of the doubt to the confidential relation in which his position placed him with authors; and his Dutch caution, although it deprived him of many a toothsome morsel for his letter, soon became known to his confreres, and was a large asset when, as an editor, he had to follow the golden rule of editorship that teaches one to keep the ears open but the mouth shut.
