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They withdrew, leaving behind an atmosphere of threat and disaster, dark, inglorious clouds of which Haring trailed behind him when he entered the office of the owner with his countenance of woe. His postulate was that Mr. Marrineal should go to his marplot editor and duly to him lay down the law; no more offending of the valuable department-store advertisers. No; nor of any others.
But on the whole they aren't as able as the strikers' declaration in rebuttal, offered us to-day, one-third of a page at regular advertising rates, same as the manufacturers'." "Enderby?" queried Banneker quickly. "I seem to detect his fine legal hand in it." Banneker's face became moody. "I suppose Haring refused to publish it." "No. Haring's for taking it."
They had fought well, but had been forced to yield before superior numbers, one individual of the little army having performed prodigies of valor. John Haring, of Horn, had planted himself entirely alone upon the dyke, where it was so narrow between the Y on the one side and the Diemer Lake on the other, that two men could hardly stand abreast.
They had fought well, but had been forced to yield before superior numbers, one individual of the little army having performed prodigies of valor. John Haring, of Horn, had planted himself entirely alone upon the dyke, where it was so narrow between the Y on the one side and the Diemer Lake on the other, that two men could hardly stand abreast.
Then, why; why the hell was a cub of an editor allowed to cut loose and jump their game that way? They could find other places to spend their money; yes, and get a better return for it. They'd see The Patriot, and so on, and so forth. Mr. Haring understood their feelings, sympathized, even shared them. Unfortunately the editorial page was quite out of his province. Whose province was it, then? Mr.
They asked themselves, and, failing of any satisfactory answer, they asked The Patriot in no uncertain terms. Receiving vague and pained replies, they even went to the length of holding a meeting and sending a committee to wait upon the desperate Haring, passing over the advertising manager who was a mere figurehead in The Patriot office.
It was Mr. Haring brought me on here; I'm a special departmental manager in the advertising department." "Your card would hardly give the impression. It suggests the news rather than the advertising side." "I'm both," stated Mr. Zucker, brightly beaming. "I handle the criticism and the feature stuff on salary, and solicit the advertising, on a percentage. It works out fine."
Cold sweat started out on Harry's forehead, and he looked appealingly toward his companion; but Frank had turned away to conceal his merriment. "I I don't think I I understood your your question," stammered Harry. "I'm a little heard of haring I mean hard of hearing." "I asked you what was the matter with your face, sir." "Oh, my face! Ha! ha! He! he!
Then began one of those scenes of bullying and browbeating to which every newspaper, not at once powerful and honest enough to command the fear and respect of its advertisers, is at some time subjected. Haring, the victim personifying the offending organ, was stretched upon the rack and put to the question. What explanation had he to offer of The Patriot's breach of faith?
"How is that?" said the editor, astonished. "I thought Haring " "You think of Haring as if Haring thought as you and I think. That isn't fair," declared Edmonds. "Haring's got a business mind, straight within its limitations.
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