Chapter I: Thrown on His Own Resources

Harry Weston was an orphan at eighteen years of age. He resided in the town of Dellwood, in southeastern Colorado, about seventy miles from Denver. After paying his father’s funeral expenses with the money his father had left in the bank, he was penniless. He hardly knew what to do. He could not get work in any of the stores, as the merchants in the town had all the employees they needed. He sat down and pondered. What should he do? If he went to Denver he might be able to get employment, and then again he might not. While considering matters, an idea came to him.

One year previously he had visited an invalid uncle in Allentown, and Harry had taken care of him till he died. This was over a period of six months, and during that time Harry had worked in a printing shop, as his uncle did not need constant attention; and he had learned much about the printing business. He could set type, make up forms and put them on the press. He even understood how to do plain commercial job printing and had printed quite a number of neat jobs on the job-press.

Why not start a little paper somewhere? he asked himself. He knew he could make a success of it. But having no money was a serious drawback. He was a youth of ability and resourcefulness, however, and he felt sure he could overcome this difficulty.

He had a sister, his only living relative and a school-teacher, teaching at a point about twenty miles distant. He knew she had some money saved up, as she had told him so when she was at the funeral and had offered to let him have some to help defray the expenses if the money in the bank had not been sufficient. He could borrow some of her.

He went at once to see his sister, who told him she would lend him all the money she could spare, viz., one hundred dollars, but she doubted its being enough for his purpose. He said he could make it do, and that he would accept the loan and pay her the money back in due time, with interest at the rate of six per cent. She agreed to this, and handed him the one hundred dollars, taking his note for the amount. He thanked her, bade her good-bye and went back to Dellwood.

Next day he went to a firm in Denver that sold printing machinery, type and all kinds of printing material. Introducing himself to the manager, he asked if he would sell him a little printing outfit suitable for printing a small-sized paper, letting him pay a small sum down and the rest in six months or a year.

The manager of the firm looked at the youth interestedly and asked where he expected to start his paper.

“At Coalville,” replied Harry. “That’s a little coal-mining town of about fourteen hundred population about seventy-five miles from here. I was there once, and liked the looks of the town. It has no paper and I think that I may be able to do pretty well there.”

The manager nodded and then asked: “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Are your parents living?”

“No, sir. I’m an orphan. My mother died several years ago and my father died only a few days ago. I have a sister, a school-teacher, otherwise I am alone in the world.”

The manager of the type foundry looked thoughtful. “What do you know about running a paper?” he asked. “Have you had any experience?”

“I worked six months in an office in Allentown, and learned something about the newspaper business. I can set type, make up forms and do most any work that would need to be done in a small office such as the one I am hoping to start.”

The manager pondered a few minutes and then said: “It would be unusual for us to sell a minor an outfit, and chiefly on credit, but still as you look like a bright, honest young man, we might sell you a small equipment, you paying twenty per cent cash and we taking mortgage notes for the balance, you to take up one of these notes each month, with six per cent interest added. How would that do?”

“That would be splendid, sir,” said Harry, his face lighting up. “Only--I have only one hundred dollars, and that would buy such a small outfit, even if I only pay twenty per cent cash, that perhaps you would not care to bother with it.”

The manager smiled. “That makes the deal all the more logical,” he said, “as when we take a risk like this, we are glad it is not a large one. What size paper do you plan to start in this little mining town you mentioned? It won’t need to be very large, as there won’t be such a great amount of news to print.”

“A seven-column folio paper ought to be big enough,” agreed Harry. “And I expect to have one side of it already printed, with foreign news on that side--‘ready print’, as such papers are called--and I will print the local news on the other side.”

The manager nodded. “That might do,” he said. “You may be able to print a very good little paper, seeing that you can print it on an army hand press, and such a press we can sell you cheaply--only eighty-five dollars. We have a lot of second-hand body and job and advertising type we can let you have cheaply also, and such other material as you will need. We will sell you the complete outfit to the amount of two hundred dollars, and you can pay us forty-four dollars cash. The rest we will divide up into twelve mortgage notes of thirteen dollars each, payable one each month, with six per cent added. That will be satisfactory, will it?”

“Oh, yes indeed, sir.”

“Very well.”

The manager of the type-foundry liked the looks of this youth who had such sound business qualities. He went with him through the salesroom and showed him the press and other material, and annotated what Harry selected for purchase. The press was of interest to the youth, as they had a cylinder press in the office where he had worked, while this army press looked scarcely too heavy to be tucked under the arm of a strong man to be carried in that manner. It consisted simply of an iron bed for the type-form to rest on, while by turning a crank at one side, the bed and form were moved from one end of the iron frame to the other, passing at the same time underneath an iron cylinder about five inches in diameter, this making sufficient pressure on the paper placed on the type and held in place by a thin metal flange around the edges, called a friskit, to print the paper very nicely. The type first had to be inked by hand, so an ink-roller was necessary, and this was added to the list of material for the outfit.

Harry picked out the type he liked best, of the second-hand kind the manager had mentioned, of both body type,--the size used for the reading matter--and advertising and job type, the large-sized type. He bought a lot of leads and slugs also, and some wooden reglets--these being strips of maple one-eighth inch thick and half an inch wide, to be sawed up into different lengths that he might need at any time. He also purchased a ten-gallon can of ink for printing the paper, and some black and color inks in collapsible tubes for use in job-printing. A full-sized stand, to put the type-cases on, and with flanges underneath, for the advertising and job-printing type-cases to rest on, was added to his purchases. Also an imposing stone for the forms to rest on, and a stand for the stone were included. A little job-press, 7 × 11 inches (inside chase measurements) was selected, twelve brass column rules, and other brass rules, short lengths, or “labor-saving” kind, as it is called. Some brass-bottomed galleys, a mallet, planer and a benzine can were added, and then he told the manager to figure up his bill. The manager did so, and it amounted to $198.50.

“I would have liked to have bought a paper-cutter,” said Harry, “but I won’t have to cut much paper and can do it with an ordinary hand paper-cutting knife--like this one here in the catalogue,” and pointed to a picture in the catalogue.

“Yes, that will do very well,” said the manager, “and you can have the people at the paper house where you buy your paper cut it to the proper sizes, ready to print. Poster paper, cut 6 × 9 and 8 × 12 inches will be the sizes you will need most, and all the cutting you will have to do will be on jobs that require paper of small size, such as receipts, and so forth.”

Harry started and looked disconcerted. “Goodness!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know what I’ll do. I forgot that I will have to have job stock, and I won’t have money enough to pay for it, as I’m spending it all with you, excepting enough to pay freight on the presses, type and other material. Do you suppose the paper house people will send me paper on credit?”

“The ‘ready print’ people will,” he said, “as they carry advertising on the side that they print and they want a big circulation so they can get bigger prices for the advertising. I judge the people that sell paper for the job-printing department will do likewise.”

“Thanks for that information,” said Harry, and then he turned to finish the purchasing of the outfit. He told the manager to include the paper-knife and some border to put around advertisements, making the amount an even two hundred dollars. The manager did so, after which Harry paid him the forty-four dollars and signed the twelve mortgage-notes of thirteen dollars each,--and the transaction was completed.

“We’ll box up your outfit and ship it to-morrow,” said the manager. “I am glad you came to us and bought of our firm, Mr. Weston,” he continued, “and I most heartily hope you will make your paper a great success.”

“Thanks, sir, and thanks for having sold me the outfit on such favorable terms,” said Harry, and took his departure.

A visit to the firm that furnished papers to country publishers with one side of the paper already printed, and to the house that sold job stock, as paper is called that is used in job-printing, yielded good results, for each of these firms told him they would send him what paper he needed, and he could pay the first of each month.

Having accomplished the business on which he had gone to Denver, Harry boarded the train and went to Coalville, which was to be the scene of his newspaper-publishing venture.