People's Pilot, Volume 2, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 January 1893 — How I Ran The Business Office of "The Arizona Kicker." [ARTICLE]

How I Ran The Business Office of "The Arizona Kicker."

BY M. QUAD.

I established The Arizona Kicker on a policy of my own. I determined from the first not to waste breath arguing with a man that it was his duty to sub* scribe to and advertise in his home paper. Had I pursued the usual policy I could never have issued the second Dumber. I first learned that almost every man in the country around was a little tender as to his past record, and then I buckled on my guns and started out to pile up a big subscription list. As fast as I ran across my men I politely said: “Mr. Jones, I have your record in a little book, but you can rest easy. I’jn not a man to give my subscribers away, ae matter how great the reward offered. The Kicker is to be a bang-up weekly, and the subscription price is two dollars per year, strictly in advance. What is your full name, please?” The plan worked beautifully. Now and then I encountered a critter from New England who thought he’d got so far away that he was perfectly safe, and he would hesitate and. perhaps, defy me. In such cases I sort o' slipped my hands down to my guns and feelingly replied that I’d send his personal description on to the chief of police of Boston and take my chances. He always wilted.

I also have my own policy about keeping a subscriber on the list. If he drops off I want to know why. I buckle on my guns, straddle my cayuse, and ride till I find him. If he’s dead and buried, that settles it. If he is living, I am dead sure of his renewal. If he says, as is sometimes the case, that The Kicker doesn’t have enough reading matter to suit him, I politely reply that I could fill three or four columns more with accounts of horse thieves, embezzlers, bigamists, cow-stealers and barnburners who have come west to grow up with the country, but that I’m not that sort of an editor. He sees the point and renews. In the case of a man who returned his Kicker, marked “refused,” I rode over to his ranche and found him barricaded in a log stable. I besieged him for twelve hours, during which time some two hundred shots were exchanged. Finding that I meant to stay all summer, he raised a white flag and came out and subscribed for three copies of the paper to be sent to relatives. Ninety-five per cent, of my subscribers comein iHid re-

new of their own accord. The other five per cent hold up |2 bills when they see me coming, and beg my pardon for not dropping in. I run my advertising on the same general principle. In some of the old-fashioned Eastern towns an editor has to spend weeks to convince a merchant that advertising pays, and then take at least half-store trade in payment of his bill. Here the case is entirely different, at least with The Kicker. The only “ad” I had in the first issue was an “estray mule with a white hind leg,” and it looked mighty lonesome among twentyeight columns of reading matter. I was waiting, ‘however, to size up the crowd. In one way and another I “dropped” to most of them, and when fully prepared I began my rounds. As I afterwards Jearned, not one of the fifty-four business men in the town believed in advertising. Indeed, they had formed a combine not to advertise. I took my guns along simply for show, but the little book I carried in my hand was the lever. As I entered a place I- said to the proprietor: ‘ “My dear sir, I am the editor and proprietor of the new paper, The Arizona Kicker. Of course, you believe in advertising, and I have come around to see what space ” “I don’t want to advertise!” “I have come around to see what space you want. Here are my rates for the different pages. On the first page the rates ” “I tell you I don’t want to do any advertising—wouldn’t take a whole page as a gift!” “Excuse me, please,” I kindly said, as I consulted my little book. “About forty years old; dark hair and eyes; weight about 150 pounds; speaks very decidedly; has a frank look, but is a desperate man; will pay 1500 reward to any one who can locate him; last heard of in Arizona; address—urn! ha! urn! Sorry you don’t want to advertise—good day!” “Hold on a minute! Who the said I didn’t-believe in advertising! Of course I do!

Show me the rates again, will you?. The man #ho doesn’t believe that advertising pays is a blamed kybte, and you can tell him I said so! I’ll take half a column on the second page next to the editorial, weekly, one year!” See? Nothing easier! No argument, no getting mad—no shooting! In two weeks I had fifty out of the fifty-four places of business. Of the other four two bold out until they learned that I was going to write them up and publish theif woodcuts as “representative citizCttl,” who were helping to make the town what it was. I found both of them at The Kicker office at sunrise next morning, and each wanted half a column on the local page. The third man owned the scow by which people were set across the river. There was only one scow and one crossing, and fie argued that advertising could not increase his number of passengers. I mentally agreed with him, but it wouldn’t do to let anybody get away. He hung off until some-body told him I was trying to get hold of his photograph, and then he brought in the following, which makes a quarter of a column under the head of “Marine Matters,” and is run e o w, 1 yr.: “Passengers, Teams, Droves And Herds Set Across Salt River, Day or Night, with Safety and Dispatch. The only Crossing for Ten Miles Up or Down. “The only scow for a distance of thirty miles either way. No accidents ever happen. No lives ever lost. Patronize home industry and thereby build up your own town. The scow is kept on the south side of the river at night. People arriving on the north side and wanting to cross will please hoot three times. lam always heeled with whisky and tobacco. No distinction on account of politics or religion. . Sam White, The Public’s Respectful Ferryman”

The fourth and last case is that of an aged cuss who runs a grocery. He not only does not believe in advertising, but thus far it has been impossible for me to hit his record. I have published his portrait, sent his description to a dozen sheriffs, sent strangers in to see him; thrown out hints in my local columns that we had a murderer among us, and tried in all other ways to bring him down, but he is still stiff-necked and obstinate. I have not given up, however. I’ve discovered that he used to live in New Hampshire, and I’ve sent a man on to try and find the break in his reeord. If he never did anything more than fall in love with a schoolma’am, w I’ll make it so hot for him that he’ll want the top half of the fourth page right through the year 1893, and will give me all his job-work besides. Editor Arizona Kicker. The wind from the North blows sharp and keen, and bad effects of colds are seen. One Minute Cough Cure so safe and sure, will quickly perform a wondrous cure. A. F. Long <fc Co.