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Updated: May 2, 2025
Why, the biggest men in the advertising game are just kids." He disappeared within his room, still talking. "Look at McQuirk, advertising manager of the Combs Car Company. He's so young he has to disguise himself in bone-trimmed eye-glasses with a black ribbon to get away with it. Look at Hopper, of the Berg, Shriner Company. Pulls down ninety thousand a year, and if he's thirty-five I'll "
So it was with something of his mother's splendid courage in his heart, but with nothing of her canny knowledge in his head, Jock McChesney fared forth to do battle with the merciless god Business. It was ten-thirty of a brilliant morning just two days later that a buoyant young figure swung into an elevator in the great office building that housed the Berg, Shriner Advertising Company.
To sit with the wife of a Mystic Shriner, and the woman who had done what Adele had done, and whose husband incidentally was deeply devoted to herself, was not according to Monroe. But she was in New York! "I guess I was a silly girl, misled by a man of the world," Adele was saying in her old, complaining, complacent voice.
"And if you decide to place your advertising future in the hands of the Berg, Shriner Company " "Now look here," interrupted Ben Griebler again. "I'll tie up with you people when you've shaken something out of your cuffs. I'm not the kind that buys a pig in a poke. We're going to spend money real money in this campaign of ours.
Dad Wears His Masonic Fez in Constantinople They Find the Turks Sensitive on the Dog Question A College Yell for the Sultan Sends Him Into a Fit. Constantinople, Turkey. My Dear Old "Shriner" We got out of Russia just in time to keep from being arrested or blown up with a bomb.
And if, while you're sweeping, you notice that that kind of broom isn't suited to the stairs go in and suggest a new kind. They'll like it." Brooms and back stairways had no place in Jock McChesney's mind as the mahogany and gold elevator shot him up to the fourteenth floor of the great office building that housed the Berg, Shriner Company.
"It's this," explained Emma McChesney in a hollow tone: "The Berg, Shriner Advertising Company has appointed Jock manager of their new Western branch. They're opening offices in Chicago in March." Her lower lip quivered. She caught it sharply between her teeth. For one surprised moment T.A. Buck stared in silence. Then a roar broke from him. "Not exactly bad!" he boomed between laughs.
"McChesney?" repeated Miss Galt, crisply. "I know a Mrs. McChesney, of the T.A. Buck " "My mother," proudly. "Your mother! Then why " She stopped. "Because," said Jock, "I'm the rawest rooky in the Berg, Shriner Company. And when I begin to realize what I don't know about advertising I'll probably want to plunge off the Palisades." Miss Galt smiled up at him, her clear, frank eyes meeting his.
The two readings were punctuated with a little gasp, such as we give when an icy douche is suddenly turned upon us. And that was all. A week later an intent little group formed a ragged circle about the big table in the private office of Bartholomew Berg, head of the Berg, Shriner Advertising Company.
In the big office of the Berg, Shriner Advertising Company they had begun to chuckle a bit over the McChesney solicitor's reports. Those same reports indicated that young McChesney was beginning to find the key to that maddening jumble of complexities known as human nature.
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