Pulitzer_ A Life in Politics, Print, and Power - James McGrath Morris [213]
In his earliest days as a publisher, Pulitzer had once been offered a similar opportunity. Edward Augustine, the lobbyist with whom he had done battle in Jefferson City, who committed suicide after a financial failure. Other newspaper editors in St. Louis played up the ignominy of his end, but not Pulitzer. He resisted the chance to get even and treated Augustine’s death with decorum. He was not going to alter his sense of gentlemanly restraint now just because it was Hearst’s turn at bad luck.
On the other hand, there was no need for spite. “This McKinley business has rebounded hard against the Journal,” one of Pulitzer’s editors reported in a confidential memo. “It is a notable fact that in the storm of criticism directed against the Journal since the shooting, the World has scarcely once been coupled with it, although the main object of the attack throughout has been so-called ‘Yellow Journalism.’”
The combination of the editorial reforms at the World and Hearst’s perceived complicity in McKinley’s death in the public’s mind accomplished what Pulitzer had sought since the Spanish-American War. Words he had longed to hear came in the confidential memo: “The result is that people do not THINK of the World and Journal together as they did, and were perhaps justified in doing some time back.”
The calm that Pulitzer sought at Jekyll Island was missing during the early months of 1902. He was infuriated by the rising cost of his house in New York. Instead of the $250,000 he had agreed to pay, the price was now $644,000. And on top of this, he had authorized $165,000 in renovations at Chatwold. When he wasn’t worrying about the money, he was lamenting the decisions that he believed he had to make about decorating, never mind that Kate remained in New York, bearing the brunt of the work.
In choosing art, Joseph became so frustrated that he considered simply buying an entire collection from someone who had taste. George Ledlie, his advance man, discouraged this idea. “You may say you have no-one to advise you,” wrote Ledlie. “On the contrary, and I say this, not because Mrs. Pulitzer is Mrs. Pulitzer, but from knowledge I have obtained in various shopping expeditions with her, that I fully believe you can without hesitation, leave the final decision in any matter requiring artistic senses to her.”
Kate was willing in mind and spirit but not in body. She became increasingly weak and ill that spring. Pulitzer, whose list of ailments could fill a page, was not sympathetic. On board the Majestic as it approached the coast of England, he wrote to Kate that his doctor was positive there was nothing wrong with her that a little rest couldn’t cure. “I am perfectly confident that all you need is a little self-restraint and philosophy. Never mind about carpets or furniture or hangings. You will get them all quickly enough when you are well.” He added that he had slept better on this voyage than on any before.
Kate, however, did not improve with rest. Her condition worsened after Joseph had sailed. Her doctors decided she needed to leave the city, and they gave her their usual prescription: a cure at Aix-les-Bains. With this in mind, she began to feel better, until she received a letter from Joseph, who had already traveled from England to southern France, forbidding her to bring Herbert. “The result,” said Ledlie, “was that she had a bad crying spell, followed by a fainting time, declared if the baby did not go, she would not go, and we had a very bad time of it.” Since the doctors had instructed the staff to humor Kate, Ledlie and the others decided to tell her that she could take the child along. Ledlie then craftily explained the situation in a private letter to Butes, who was with