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Updated: May 28, 2025
Sam Kennard for something, and forthwith Barr, Nugent, Crawford, Scruggs, Vandervoort and Barney, and the other big dealers withdrew their patronage in order to prevent his making the sum of money each year prescribed in his contract with Joseph Pulitzer as the sine qua non to his retention of his place. They drove him out of journalism finally.
If Curtis once represented it rightly, it was the same ridiculous, hard-worked, greedy, costly, stupid thing which Mr. Pulitzer again represents it." "And yet," we mused aloud, "this is the sort of thing which the 'unthinking multitude' who criticise, or at least review, books are always lamenting that our fiction doesn't deal with.
Set down in cold print, this outburst loses almost every trace of its intensely dramatic character. Mr. Pulitzer spoke as though he were declaiming a part in a highly emotional play.
The delicate enjoyment of this game was not reached, however, until, at the following meal, one of us, who had been absent at the original delineation, was asked to cover some of the ground that had been gone over a few hours earlier. Mr. Pulitzer would say: "Is Mr. So-and-So here?
In the tiny harbor of Mentone I found, anchored stern-on to the quay, the steam yacht Liberty a miracle of snowy decks and gleaming brass-work tonnage 1,607, length over all 316 feet, beam 35.6 feet, crew 60, all told. A message from Mr. Pulitzer awaited me. Would I dine at his villa at Cap Martin? An automobile would call for me at seven o'clock.
At the age of sixteen he emigrated to the United States. He landed without friends, without money, unable to speak a word of English. Within a year the Civil War ended, and Pulitzer found himself, in common with hundreds of thousands of others, out of employment at a time when employment was most difficult to secure.
I would immediately stop reading, when he would pat me on the arm, and say, "Go on, boy, go on, don't mind me. I wasn't laughing at you. I was thinking of something else. What was it? Oh, a railroad wreck, well, don't stop, go on reading." As soon as we were seated Mr. Pulitzer turned to me and began to question me about my reading. Had I read any recent fiction? No?
He knew them to the last ounce of their endurance, to the last word of their knowledge, beyond the last veil which enables even the most intelligent man to harbor, mercifully, a few delusions about himself. To those who did not know Mr. Pulitzer it may appear that I exaggerate his powers in this direction. As a matter of fact I believe that it would be impossible to do so.
Pulitzer had enjoyed my visit immensely but that I was not just the man for the place. So I compromised and said that I had a fairly good memory. "Well, everybody thinks he's got a good memory," replied Mr. Pulitzer. "I only claimed a fairly good one," I protested. "Oh! that's just an affectation; as a matter of fact you think you've got a splendid memory, don't you?
Like most people who suffer acutely from noise Mr. Pulitzer was very differently affected by different kinds of noise. To any noise which was necessary, such as that caused by letting go the anchor, he could make himself indifferent; but very few noises were included in this category.
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