Jasper County Democrat, Volume 13, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 April 1910 — THE FOURTH ESTATE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE FOURTH ESTATE

Novelized by FREDERICK R. TOOMBS From the Great Play of the Same Name by Joseph Medill Patterson and Harriet Ford. 0 0 COPYRIGHT. 1909. BY JOSEPH MEDILL PATTERSON AND HARRIET FORD. —: aJ

SYNOPSIS. > Y Chapter T—Judith Bartelmy,' society woman, goes to the office of the Daily Advance to protest against a story which had severely criticised her father, a judge of the United States court. She discovers that the author v of the article was Wheeler Brand, a brilliant young writer whom she had promised to marry. He refuses to cease attacking her father. ll—-Judith discards her engagement ring.' Dupuy, a lawyer, representing big advertisers, calls and demands Brand’s discharge, as his clients are friends of Judge Bartelmy. 11l Brand is discharged by the managing editor, for the paper, long owned by an insurance company, had been friendly to corporations. Michael Nolan, who buys the paper, comes in the office and finds Dupuy to be an old enemy of his. IV—Nolan calls for Brand and makes him managing editor.

CHAPTER V. rrrn YEAR passed since the eventful night for Wheeler Brand egg when Nolan made him mauIgsgiSs aging editor of the Advance.

In these months Brand made a showing with the paper that was never dreamed of by the owners preceding as being within the range of possibility. Made , absolute master of the paper and consequently dictator of its policy, the young man set a pace that the paper’s rivals found difficult to equal, much less to outstrip. His. exposure of the scandals in the exclusive world of high life insurance finance has thus far proved the most vital reform of his administration. As a result of this crusade, which drove h half dozen leading officials from almost as many companies, the president of the United States stated publicly that “the vast life insurance business of this country is now on the financial basis it has ever had.” But Wheeler Brand in the press of stirring events had not forgotten Judge Bartelmy. In fact, certain activities of that estimable individual were just now under close scrutiny by the one time reporter, who, if he could be prevailed on to speak concerning it, might possibly observe that the judge was very soon to have an opportunity to make a few explanations which would be received with undoubted interest by the public. The young editor’s suit for the hand of Judith Bartelmy might be said, since we are dealing with a judge’s family, to be in statu quo. She was still waiting for him ‘*to become sane,” as she had expressed herself to him. A girl of liifty principles and of decided strength of character, she could not see his duty from his viewpoint. Perhaps it was all quite natural, quite womanly, quite daughterly, that she should subscribe absolutely to her father’s side in the momentous caSe of “JUDGE BARTELMY versus The people, WHEELER BRAND AND- THE ADVANCE.” She was loyal to her father, and she was trying to be loyal to her lover, and the task was becoming more and more difficult. Yet she waited, and Wheeler Brand waited, and each prayed that the other would end the ordeal and heal two breaking hearts. Today we find Wheeler Brand proceeding toward the luxurious Nolan home on a fashionable residential thoroughfare to visit the proprietor of the paper to hand him a statement of the Advance’s progress, to discuss matters of editorial policy and to confer regarding a certain development concerning Judge Bartelmy. At the Nolan home a reception had been, announced, hundreds of invitations sent out, but the responses did not encourage Mrs. Nolan in her social aspirations. Society passed her by. That was the whole story inbrief. Society, as usual, was ever so much pleased with itself and was too busy to include Mrs. Nolan, Phyllis and Sylvester in its diversions. The husband and father cared very little for society,, had no time for it, but he fondly loved the courageous, warm hearted woman who had uncomplainingly shared, with him tbe_ onerous hardships of his early days, and it was his desire to gratify her ambitions as well as those of his daughter. The fortune he had plucked from Nevada’s flinty bosom enabled him to be generous, and he smiled approvingly on every new extravagance of Mrs. Michael Nolan. Therefore if she was socially ambitious she must have her way and be allowed to carry on her campaign for recognition in whatever fashion she chose. Certainly the home he had established was a fitting vantage ground from which to wage a war of dollars against the precipitous embattlements with which the city’s F,our- Hundred had encircled its camp. Palatial in size, the Nolan residence was equally palatial in its furnishings, and only the magic word from the magic lips of a single member of the magic realm of “the Aristocracy” was necessary to send monogrammed coaches in long lines to the Nolan doors, to All the costly rooms with i distinguished faces, to fill to overflowing with happiness the yearning heart of Mrs. Michael Nolan.

But the word had not yet been spoken. - . /.; - ‘ , It was now late in the afternoon at the Nolan home. Phyllis walked across the drawing room, irritation plainly marking her pretty pink and white face/ The music of a string orchestra stationed in the conservatory ceased., She addressed a servant who stood at attention at a door at the right which led to the dining room. “Pitcher,” she said discouragedly, “I don’t think any one else will come, so tell the musicians they can go.” “Year Miss Phyllis.” , At this point Mrs. Nolan came storming in. carrying a huge bunch of hot house grapes in her hand. “Pitcher, 1 noticed those caterer meu are drinking all the champagne, and I want it stopped,” she ordered loudly Pitcher bowed and went out. “If our guests won’t come here to drink it, at least we will drink it ourselves,” Mrs. Nolan announced to Phyllis. “Well, we have done it—sent out 400 cards, and who’s been here that anybody wants to see? This is the second time we’ve gone to all this trouble and expense for nothing and nobody, and if you’ll take my advice it will be the last.” “Mamma, Pitcher will hear,” the girl protested The mother bit a grape from the bunch. She deposited the skin and stones in a Sevres vase on the marble mantel. “Phyllis, what did you have to pay that musician?” she asked. “Well, his price is a thousand dollars.” “Good gracious!” “But I got him for $750. I promised the Advance would help him.” “Seven fifty for playing twice. I’d rather hear the band.’’ Mrs. Nolan bit off another grape. “You don’t understand, mamma. Everybody’s wild over that violinist.” “It seems there wasn’t nobody wild enough to eofiie here.” “There wasn’t ‘anybody,’ ” spoke Phyllis, correcting her mother. “Well, was there?” retorted the mother as she dropped the grape skin in another vase. “Oh, dear,” Phyllis wailed disconsolately as she seated herself before a small stand, “don’t rub it in, mamma! I can’t help it.” “Now, who’s blaming you, child?” consoled the mother. “There, don’t cry. I’m not so disappointed about myself, but I can’t bear to see you snubbed right and left. You are good enough to go with any of these people, and you shall too. It’s that newspaper that’s at the bottom of it. People won’t have it, or us because of it, and I mean to tell your father so too. And that’s why these ‘at homes’ is no good.” “Are no good, mamma,” tearfully. “Well, are they? It would have been better to put your $750 into suffragetting. That’s what gets you in with the right people—not that I care to vote, but I don’t waut the men to say I can’t.” Sylvester Dolan interrupted the conversation between mother and daughter by appearing before them with his bosom friend, Max Powell, who believed himself to have the makings of a master poet. It was with deepest pride that the Nolan son presented

Powell, long fiaired, sallow faced and seedily dressed, to his mother and slater. Sallow faced? Indeed, his countenance had that sickly greenish yellow hue that comes from long devouring of the muses and long abstinence from the devouring of food. “Hello, mamma!” he cried enthusiastically. “Here’s a friend of mine I want you to know—Mr. Powell, thq poet.” “How do you do, Mr. Powell? You look as if it would be easy for yon to write poetry. Do you know, poetry just sets me wild!” Sylvester patted Powell on the back. “Well, this lad’s going to make a big noise in poetry some day. Phyllis, you must have heard of Powell. My Bister, old man!” “Won’t you have a cup of tea, Mr. Powell?” invited Mrs. Nolan, visibly Impressed by the presence of a poet at her home. Powell started confusedly to utter his thanks. He did not seem overdelighted at the offer, Sylvester saw the difficulty. “Tea!” he exclaimed. “Absinth for Powell!” Mrs. Nolan expressed her regret at not having any absinth and left the room, followed by Phyllis, to arrange for something for Powell to eat. “Poor fellow! He looks hungry,” she whispered to Phyllis. Sylvester caught the poet by the arm. “One miuute, Powow,” he cautioned. “Be sure you don’t mention anything to thel folks about, my little actress friend..* I don’t want them to know that I am going to take a crack at uplifting the stage. The little girl will be all right. She’ll just make your libretto hum. She’ll fill It with personality. Build up all those weak places. You know, Powow, there are Borne. Where’s that po<em for her? Finished yet?” “Yes, it’s here somewhere,” fumbling in a pocket. “Have you made it amorous for the little girl?” “Judge for yourself. Of course I tried to write in your vein as well as I could, so that there would be no doubt to the authorship.” Sylvester read the lines: Oh, Gueneviere, how sweet my dear! My spirit soars in dreams dented, Worlds beyond worlds with thee, my bride—“l don’t like that much,” he announced when he had finished. “Bride! Is it necessary to put that in writing? Besides, it don’t sound as if I wrote it. Now, does it, Powow, old chap? Fess up.” “I hope it doesn’t sound as if I Wrote it.”

* “I thought you’d see it. Now, change that and it’s a knockout drop. Can’t

you change it now? And I’ll send it to the little girl tonight on a bed of orchids. Make it something beginning with ‘ruby lips’—you know the sort of guff —and then here and there j'eyes like night, full of delight,’ something on that order.” Powell sat and wrote for a few minutes. “Here,” he finally said. Sylvester glanced over the

uhoulder of the rising young genius, who read aloud these inspiring words: So bright and beaming are thine eyes The very stars twink in surprise. Thy hair so like the dusky night, Thy kiss so vibrant with delight, I thrill unto my finger tips. Oh, ruby, ruby—rougey Ups! Powell literally writhed in agony as he listened to the doggerel. “It’s great!” cried Sylvester ecstatic ally. “And now come get your tea Gee, I’d like to take a crack at being a poet!” The two conspirators hurried into the dining room as Wheeler Brand ■and the owner of the Advance came into the drawing room. “You’re right, Wheeler; you're right,” Nolan was saying. “This is a better showing than I hoped for. Look in your stocking next Christmas. There’ll be something for you. When I got into the newspaper business, Brand, they told me it was the beginging of my finish, that it sucked ten fortunes down for every one it built and no middle aged man ever went into it and came out again without teeth marks all over him. But look at that.” He held up a typewritten statement. “I’m richer for going in—twice as much Advertising as last year at this time.” seated himself on a settee. “The big advertisers never pull their

ads. so long as they are getting returns from them,” put in Brand. “Look at Dupuy. Remember how b<* threatened us and how his clients took their ads. out for two months?” “Yes, but they put them back again.” “Why? Because they need us more than we nqfed them,” Brand laughed. “Well, hfi's got something else up his sleeve now,” remarked Nolan. “He telephoned that he would come to see me this afternoon.” “Are you going to see him?” Brand asked curiously. “I thought I might as well. He’ll be here. Maybe be wants to fire you again.” The newspaper owner looked up at Brand and laughed heartily. Mrs. Nolan and Phyllis re-entered the drawing room, and Brand became tha especial object of their attentions. The mother desired' to have him print the list of her invited guests who had never attended the reception. Phyllis requested him to print a story about the violinist and Was vastly annoyed when Brand informed her that the subject was a matter for t&fto musical editor to attend to. “And there’s something else, Mr. Brand.” A look of despair came into Brand’s face. “Phyllis went to Miss Bartelmy’s musicale the other day, and you didn’t even include her name among those present,” the mother said. “Why,, I’m sorry. That was an oversight, I assure you. 1 suppose they made up the usual list in the office.” “I hope it won’t happen again,” remarked Phyllis indignantly/ “Yes, and the way it’s handling this Loris divorce case is all wfrong,” snapped Mrs. Nolan. “I know Mrs. Loris. She is no better than she should be, and people who live in icehouses shouldn’t throw hot water.” “We have no policy in the Loris

case,” remarked Brand in defense. “We merely print the facts.” “Facts!” Mrs. Nolan cried. “That paper upsets me for the whole day every morning.” “There now, mother; I guess the paper’s all right,” ventured Nolan soothingly. “You’ve got another guess, Michael. Nobody reads it but shopgirls, who spend a penny for the Advance and another for a stick of gum and hang on to a strap with one hand and the Advance with the other while they’re waggling their jaws all the way down tQ work. That’s all that reads it!” She paused for breath, then went ou, “And I must say I think it’s scandalous the way you attack Judge Bartelmy every little while.” “Yes,” contributed Phyllis, “and his daughter’s one -of the most exclusive and sought after girls in New York. She’s the only one of her set who has been at all nice to me. Isn’t that so, mamma ?” “Yes, and why the paper should go for her father just as it does for every other prominent man in town I can’t see. She must think it’s very funny that such things should appear in the Advance after what she’s done for us.” “Oh,” suggested Brand, thinking to soothe his employer’s wife, “she probably knows that you have absolutely nothing to do with the policy of the Advance!” “Is that so?” ejaculated Mrs. Nolan Indignantly. “They certainly are very kind hearted people to act the way they do in the face of that paper.” “Judge' Bjirtelmy is first and last a politician,” explained Brand. Michael Nolan bent forward intently. The conversation had now reached a point where he realized an issue of vital importance to himself and to the Advance had been touched on. “Well, I suppose lie has been coddling up to us a little,” he began, then paused. » Brand drew a deep breath, stood up erect in the middle of the drawing room and daringly explained the situation to the owner of the paper. “Bartelmy handles people better than any man in town,” he declared. “He has studied the Advance, dissected its ppsition and—l will be frank with you—discovered it's weaknesses. He knows he can’t reach you through your cupidity or political ambition because you lack those qualities. He now realizes that his only, hope of influencing us lies in an appeal to”— He hesitated. “Well?” asked Mrs. Nolan ominously. Brand found the courage tO complete the sentence. “His only hope lies in an appeal—to your family's social desires”—Phyllis rose from her seat, her e'heefcs red with auger—"and that’s the only reaJ ' . /1\ \ * » |* * ' ; ' : t '

son he has for taking yon up.” Mrs. Nolan gave a scream of wrath. Nolan himself, regretting that the unpleasant scene had occurred, rose from the settee and advanced to calm ruffled waters, but his, face was clouded; Its serious expression indicated that he was deeply concerned over the frank statements of his managing editor, and one could instinctively feel that he was convinced that Brand had spoken the truth. r (To Be Continued.)

“Nobody was wild enough to come here.”

“Ruby, ruby—rougey lips!”

“People who live in icehouses shouldn’t throw hot water.”