Теодор Драйзер - The Genius

Eugene by now had become used to luxury in various forms, and this house was not superior to many he had seen; but it ranked with the best. Colfax was most free in it. He threw his overcoat to the valet carelessly and tossed his babies in the air by turn, when they were presented to him by the French maid. His wife, slightly taller than himself, received a resounding smack.

"There, Ceta," he exclaimed (a diminutive for Cecile, as Eugene subsequently learned), "how do you like that, eh? Meet Mr. Witla. He's an artist and an art director and an advertising manager and―"

"A most humble person," put in Eugene smilingly. "Not half as bad as you may think. His report is greatly exaggerated."

Mrs. Colfax smiled sweetly. "I discount much that he says at once," she returned. "More later. Won't you come up into the library?"

They ascended together, jesting. Eugene was pleased with what he saw. Mrs. Colfax liked him. She excused herself after a little while and Colfax talked life in general. "I'm going to show you my house now, and after dinner I'm going to talk a little business to you. You interest me. I may as well tell you that."

"Well, you interest me, Colfax," said Eugene genially, "I like you."

"You don't like me any more than I like you, that's a sure thing," replied the other.

The results of this evening were most pleasant, but in some ways disconcerting. It became perfectly plain that Colfax was anxious to have Eugene desert the Kalvin Company and come over to him.

"You people over there," he said to him at one stage of the conversation, "have an excellent company, but it doesn't compare with this organization which we are revising. Why, what are your two publications to our seven? You have one eminently successful one—the one you're on—and no book business whatsoever! We have seven publications all doing excellently well, and a book business that is second to none in the country. You know that. If it hadn't been that the business had been horribly mismanaged it would never have come into my hands at all. Why, Witla, I want to tell you one little fact in connection with that organization which will illustrate everything else which might be said in connection with it before I came here! They were wasting twenty thousand dollars a year on ink alone. We were publishing a hundred absolutely useless books that did not sell enough to pay for the cost of printing, let alone the paper, plates, typework and cost of distribution. I think it's safe to say we lost over a hundred thousand dollars a year that way. The magazines were running down. They haven't waked up sufficiently yet to suit me. But I'm looking for men. I'm really looking for one man eventually who will take charge of all that editorial and art work and make it into something exceptional. He wants to be a man who can handle men. If I can get the right man I will even include the advertising department, for that really belongs with the literary and art sections. It depends on the man."

He looked significantly at Eugene, who sat there stroking his upper lip with his hand.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "that ought to make a very nice place for someone. Who have you in mind?"

"No one as yet that I'm absolutely sure of. I have one man in mind who I think might come to fill the position after he had had a look about the organization and a chance to study its needs a little. It's a hard position to hold. It requires a man with imagination, tact, judgment. He would have to be a sort of vice–Colfax, for I can't give my attention permanently to that business. I don't want to. I have bigger fish to fry. But I want someone who will eventually be my other self in these departments, who can get along with Florence White and the men under him and hold his own in his own world. I want a sort of bi–partisan commission down there—each man supreme in his own realm."

"It sounds interesting," said Eugene thoughtfully. "Who's your man?"

"As I say, he isn't quite ready yet, in my judgment, but he is near it, and he's the right man! He's in this room now. You're the man I'm thinking about, Witla."

"No," said Eugene quietly.

"Yes; you," replied Colfax.

"You flatter me," he said, with a deprecatory wave of his hand. "I'm not so sure that he is."

"Oh, yes, he is, if he thinks he is!" replied Colfax emphatically. "Opportunity doesn't knock in vain at a real man's door. At least, I don't believe it will knock here and not be admitted. Why the advertising department of this business alone is worth eighteen thousand dollars a year to begin with."

Eugene sat up. He was getting twelve. Could he afford to ignore that offer? Could the Kalvin Company afford to pay him that much? They were paying him pretty well as it was. Could the Kalvin Company offer him the prospects which this company was offering him?

"What is more, I might say," went on Colfax, "the general publishing control of this organization—the position of managing publisher, which I am going to create and which when you are fitted for it you can have, will be worth twenty–five thousand dollars a year, and that oughtn't to be so very far away, either."

Eugene turned that over in his mind without saying anything. This offer coming so emphatically and definitely at this time actually made him nervous and fearsome. It was such a tremendous thing to talk about—the literary, art and advertising control of the United Magazines Corporation. Who was this man White? What was he like? Would he be able to agree with him? This man beside him was so hard, so brilliant, so dynamic! He would expect so much.

And then his work with Townsend Miller and under Mr. Kalvin. How much he had learned of the editorial game by merely talking and planning with those two men! He had got the whole idea of timely topics, of big progressive, national forecasts and features, of odd departments and interesting pieces of fiction and personality studies, from talking with Miller alone. Kalvin had made clear to him what constituted great craftsmen. Of course, long before, he had suspected just how it was, but in Philadelphia he had sat in conference with Miller and Kalvin, and knew. He had practically managed the former's little art department for him without paying much attention to it either. Couldn't he really handle this greater thing if he tried? If he didn't, someone else would. Would the man who would, be so much greater than himself?

"I'm not anxious that you should act hastily," said Colfax soothingly, after a little bit, for he saw that Eugene was debating the question solemnly and that it was a severe problem for him. "I know how you feel. You have gone into the Kalvin Company and you've made good. They've been nice to you. It's only natural that they should be. You hate to leave. Well, think it over. I won't tempt you beyond your best judgment. Think it over. There's a splendid chance here. Just the same, I like you, and I think you are the man to get away with it. Come down to my place tomorrow and let me show you what we have. I want to show our resources. I don't think you know how big this thing really is."

"Yes, I do," replied Eugene, smiling. "It certainly is a fascinating proposition. But I can't make up my mind about it now. It's something I want to think about. I'd like to take my time, and I'll let you know."

"Take all the time you want, my boy! Take all the time you want!" exclaimed Colfax. "I'll wait for you a little while. I'm in no life–or–death hurry. This position can't be filled satisfactorily in a minute. When you're ready, let me know what you decide. And now let's go to the theatre—what do you say?"

The automobile was called, Mrs. Colfax and her guest, Miss Genier, appeared. There was an interesting evening in a box, with Eugene talking gaily and entertainingly to all, and then an after–theatre bite at Sherry's. The next morning, for he stayed all night at Colfax's, they visited the United Magazines Corporation building together, and at noon Eugene returned to Philadelphia.