Pulitzer_ A Life in Politics, Print, and Power - James McGrath Morris [88]
Pulitzer openly professed his faith in the evening press within days of buying the Dispatch. “Whether it be a collision in the Sea of Marmosa, a battle in the Peiwar Pass, a revolution in the Sultan’s palace, or a row in the British Cabinet, the evening paper is invariably the first to give the news,” Pulitzer told his readers. “Moreover, it reaches the subscriber when he has time to read a paper. In a city, as least, there are about three times as many people who have leisure for an evening paper as there are for a morning paper. It is merely a question whether the evening paper can occupy the field, and we propose to occupy it.”
Pulitzer’s timing was perfect. Not only were evening papers on the rise, but production and newsprint costs were decreasing. Publishers could offer readers more for their money or drop the price. Either strategy provided a stable financial footing, permitting newspapers to wean themselves from subsidies, direct or indirect, from political parties. With this prosperity, an increasing number of newspapers began to call themselves “independent.” The more independent a newspaper became, the more it drew readers seeking objective news, entertainment, and advertising to guide their growing purchases. In other words, becoming an independent newspaper was as much an economic as a political decision. “Business prosperity,” noted the Chicago Tribune, “has increased with all papers in the proportion that they have maintained their independence and their freedom.”
Pulitzer gambled he could ride these trends to journalistic and financial success. His business acumen drove him. Although he was at times an innovator in journalism, this was not his strength. Rather, he possessed remarkable foresight and had an uncanny ability to recognize value where others didn’t. He was willing to take risks based on his insights when others remained timid.
But none of Pulitzer’s ambitious plans would bear fruit on the minuscule subscription rolls of the Dispatch. So, like a bridge player, Pulitzer relied on his strong suit. He owned an AP membership, whereas Dillon’s Post made do with a weaker alternative, the National Associated Press. Dillon could survive without an authentic AP membership, but he feared doing battle with the well-equipped Pulitzer, and he still worried that the Dispatch might combine forces with the Star.
Pulitzer’s ploy worked. Within twenty-four hours, Dillon agreed to merge his paper with Pulitzer’s. A merger made good sense. Pulitzer and Dillon shared essentially the same reformist political views. For Dillon, the merger would prevent a potentially disastrous circulation fight. For Pulitzer, it would bring readers and, most important, time.
The two men decided that their respective enterprises were worth $15,000 each. They created a new corporation that issued 300 shares, valued at $100 each. Blanche Dillon, who had funded the Post, retained 149 shares; Pulitzer had 149; and two shares were assigned to William Patrick, Pulitzer’s attorney, who drew up the papers. Dillon took the posts of president and managing editor, and Pulitzer became vice president and political editor. But the agreement made it clear that Pulitzer renounced no editorial power by accepting the post of second in command. At the last minute, a clause was added to the final text, specifying that he “should write upon any subject political or otherwise without reservation.