The Chronicles of a Gay GordonGordon, J. M. (Joseph Maria)
History
The Chronicles of a Gay Gordon
Gordon, J. M. (Joseph Maria)
Generals -- England -- Biography; Gordon, J. M. (Joseph Maria), 1856-1929
My two partners left me to ferret out what information they could,
particularly to spot, if possible, the winner for the coming Saturday's
races. If we could only strike, say, three or four winners for Saturday
our fortune was made. I looked forward to printing an issue of fifty
thousand copies on the Tuesday morning, the Cup Day, giving the last and
final and correct tip for that great race. I treated myself to an
excellent dinner at my club, and could hardly realize that with all the
disadvantages of inexperience and want of knowledge in business matters
my success had been so quickly and soundly assured. The first of the
rather rude awakenings, which came to me next morning, was a message sent
on to the office, where I was sitting after having supervised the
departure of the delivery carts to their several distributing localities,
arranged for on the previous day, to the effect that no news-sellers were
available at the arranged places, and asking for instructions. I sent for
a cab and started for the places where the delivery carts were waiting.
What a change from the previous day! Either something had gone radically
wrong with the advertising of the change in the place and mode of
distribution, or else the news-sellers had been tampered with in some way
or another. Not one was to be found. Then I remembered the agreement with
the advertisers. Ten thousand copies had to be distributed throughout the
city and suburbs. There was only one remedy. The delivery carts must
deliver them, as widely as was possible, but, of course, free of charge.
You will doubtless have noticed that this was the second issue of the
paper which had been made without as yet one penny having been returned
to the promoters.
On returning to the office I found a well-known Jew of that day, who, I
had been told, was the boss of the news-sellers and who practically had
them all in the palm of his hand. He informed me straight out that he had
passed the word round that any vendor, man, woman or child, who sold the
_Turf Tissue_ would be struck off the list of their evening paper
sellers, whom he absolutely controlled. The explanation for the morning's
failure was clear. But what was more clear was the unrelenting spirit in
which my visitor absolutely refused to come to any terms which might lead
to an amicable settlement. He delivered his ultimatum like a Napoleon. He
would have no truck with new-fangled ideas which might interfere with the
sale of the old-established newspaper. He informed me he had not the
slightest ill-feeling personally in the matter; in fact, he went so far
as to say that if I had only conferred with him before launching my
scheme he would have gladly advised me of the futility of it. Bowing
himself out, he departed. I had not the least inclination to step over to
Scott's and have a glass of bubbly. I simply had to count up what our
losses then amounted to. They were as follows, roughly:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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