interrogation, signs, numbers, and so forth. Line after line of type, metal blocks cut into letters, words and sentences created to be imposed and printed from.
âHearst is using publicity stunts to swell circulation and the advertising. Why, there are more advertisements than stories.â Edmund passed his father the month-old New York newspaper. âWe should be expanding.â His voice competed with the clickety-clack of the linotype.
William Randolf Hearst had been in the newspaper business for sixteen years, starting first at his fatherâs San Francisco Examiner and employing talented writers such as Mark Twain and Jack London. Edmund had watched his meteoric rise with a mixture of jealousy and admiration. âSo where would you like to relocate to?â Aloysius enquired. This was not the first time theyâd had such a conversation.
âTruly?â Edmund replied. âBeyond America. England perhaps, or Australia.â
Aloysius couldnât hide his amusement. âYouâve grown ambitious, Edmund, but I think itâs best for a person to stick to what they know, in their own country. You would have to move east, source a potential paper, preferably one that was failing, and hope you could turn it around.â The national financial crisis of 1893 had affected everyone, including the Wade family. Theyâd had money invested with one of the five banks in the city that had failed and had been forced to virtually close down the plantation when cotton prices dropped below five cents a pound. âBut, by all means, if you can find an appropriate newspaper and a financier for the business, I wonât stand in your way, Edmund.â
They watched as Brian moved a line of letter matrixes to a mould where molten lead was injected. The line was then ejected and the matrices distributed automatically into the magazine funnels above the keyboard, ready for use again. It was a far cry from the days of the manual typesetting machine. Aloysius could now print thousands of pages a day and newspapers were no longer restricted to eight pages.
âSince Hearst purchased the New York Morning Journal last year heâs been in a head-to-head circulation war with Joseph Pulitzer of the New York World .â
âHeâs a canny operator,â Aloysius replied, âIâll give him that.â He flicked open the paper. There were stories of municipal and financial corruption, clever cartoons and opinion pieces on the government of the day. However, it was the book section that caught his attention. Wynema: A Child of the Forest written by a Creek Indian woman, although published almost two years ago, was mentioned in an opinion piece. Aloysius had read the work on publication, hopeful of gaining some perspective into Philomenaâs life. It had not eased his regret.
Edmund peered over his shoulder. âI thought we were talking about expansion.â
âYou were talking expansion,â Aloysius countered. âI have enough businesses here to keep me gainfully employed.â Folding the paper, he dropped it in a waste bin. Dallas, like the rest of the country, was still recovering from the recent panic and business was tough. Hundreds of people had left the city, the lumber and flour markets had all but vanished, cotton was yet to improve and soup kitchens still fed hundreds daily.
âI wouldnât go east. I was thinking of heading north, maybe Kansas or even to Oklahoma.â
âWhat?â Aloysius had never considered his youngest to be the adventurous type. âThe Unassigned Lands?â
âTheyâre not unassigned anymore, Father.â
âI know that,â he replied irritably, âbut every outlaw in the country has been holed up there for years,â Aloysius argued. âThose lands are right in the middle of Indian territory.â
âThat wonât last. The land run of â89 saw thousands of homesteaders stake a land