The Genius by Theodore Dreiser

He was not at all offensively egotistic—simply surer, calmer, more genial, less easily ruffled; but even this was too much. Summerfield wanted a frightened man, and seeing that Eugene might be getting strong enough to slip away from him, he began to think how he should either circumvent his possible sudden flight, or discredit his fame, so that if he did leave he would gain nothing by it. Neither of them was directly manifesting any ill-will or indicating his true feelings, but such was the situation just the same. The things which Summerfield thought he might do were not easy to do under any circumstances. It was particularly hard in Eugene’s case. The man was beginning to have an air. People liked him. Advertisers who met him, the big manufacturers, took note of him. They did not understand him as a trade figure, but thought he must have real force. One man—a great real estate plunger in New York, who saw him once in Summerfield’s office—spoke to the latter about him.

“That’s a most interesting man you have there, that man Witla,” he said, when they were out to lunch together. “Where does he come from?”

“Oh, the West somewhere!” replied Summerfield evasively. “I don’t know. I’ve had so many art directors I don’t pay much attention to them.”

Winfield (ex-Senator Kenyon C. Winfield, of Brooklyn) perceived a slight undercurrent of opposition and belittling. “He looks like a bright fellow,” he said, intending to drop the subject.

“He is, he is,” returned Summerfield; “but like all artists, he’s flighty. They’re the most unstable people in the world. You can’t depend upon them. Good for one idea today—worth nothing tomorrow—I have to handle them like a lot of children. The weather sometimes makes all the difference in the world.”

Winfield fancied this was true. Artists generally were worth nothing in business. Still, he remembered Eugene pleasantly.

As Summerfield talked here, so was it in the office and elsewhere. He began to say in the office and out that Eugene was really not doing as well as he might, and that in all likelihood he would have to drop him. It was sad; but all directors, even the best of them, had their little day of ability and usefulness, and then ran to seed. He did not see why it was that all these directors failed so, but they did. They never really made good in the company. By this method, his own undiminished ability was made to stand out free and clear, and Eugene was not able to appear as important. No one who knew anything about Eugene, however, at this time believed this; but they did believe—in the office—that he might lose his position. He was too bright—too much of a leader. They felt that this condition could not continue in a one-man concern; and this made the work harder, for it bred disloyalty in certain quarters. Some of his men were disposed to counsel with the enemy.

But as time passed and in spite of the change of attitude which was coming over Summerfield, Eugene became even stronger in his own self-esteem. He was not getting vainglorious as yet—merely sure. Because of his art work his art connections had revived considerably, and he had heard again from such men as Louis Deesa, M. Charles, Luke Severas, and others who now knew where he was and wondered why he did not come back to painting proper. M. Charles was disgusted. “A great error,” he said. He always spoke of him to others as a great loss to art. Strange to relate, one of his pictures was sold the spring following his entry into the Summerfield Company, and another the following winter. Each netted him two hundred and fifty dollars, Pottle Frères being the agents in one case, Jacob Bergman in the other. These sales with their consequent calls for additional canvases to show, cheered him greatly. He felt satisfied now that if anything happened to him he could go back to his art and that he could make a living, anyhow.

There came a time when he was sent for by Mr. Alfred Cookman, the advertising agent for whom Summerfield had worked; but nothing came of that, for the latter did not care to pay more than six thousand a year and Summerfield had once told Eugene that he would eventually pay him ten thousand if he stayed with him. He did not think it was fair to leave him just then, and, besides, Cookman’s firm had not the force and go and prestige which Summerfield had at this time. His real chance came some six months later, when one of the publishing houses of Philadelphia having an important weekly to market, began looking for an advertising manager.

It was the policy of this house to select young men and to select from among all the available candidates just the one particular one to suit the fancy of the owner and who had a record of successful effort behind him. Now Eugene was not any more an advertising manager by experience than he was an art director, but having worked for Summerfield for nearly two years he had come to know a great deal about advertising, and the public thought he knew a great deal more. He knew by now just how Summerfield had his business organized. He knew how he specialized his forces, giving this line to one and that line to another. He had been able to learn by sitting in conferences and consultations what it was that advertisers wanted, how they wanted their goods displayed, what they wanted said. He had learned that novelty, force and beauty were the keynotes and he had to work these elements out under the most galling fire so often that he knew how it ought to be done. He knew also about commissions, rebates, long-time contracts, and so forth. He had fancied more than once that he might run a little advertising business of his own to great profit if he only could find an honest and capable business manager or partner. Since this person was not forthcoming, he was content to bide his time.

But the Kalvin Publishing Company of Philadelphia had heard of him. In his search for a man, Obadiah Kalvin, the founder of the company, had examined many individuals through agents in Chicago, in St. Louis, in Baltimore, Boston, and New York, but he had not yet made up his mind. He was slow in his decisions, and always flattered himself that once he made a selection he was sure of a good result. He had not heard of Eugene until toward the end of his search, but one day in the Union Club in Philadelphia, when he was talking to a big advertising agent with whom he did considerable business, the latter said:

“I hear you are looking for an advertising manager for your weekly.”

“I am,” he said.

“I heard of a man the other day who might suit you. He’s with the Summerfield Company in New York. They’ve been getting up some very striking ads of late, as you may have noticed.”

“I think I have seen some of them,” replied Kalvin.

“I’m not sure of the man’s name—Witla, or Gitla, or some such thing as that; but, anyhow, he’s over there, and they say he’s pretty good. Just what he is in the house I don’t know. You might look him up.”

“Thanks; I will,” replied Kalvin. He was really quite grateful, for he was not quite satisfied with any of those he had seen or heard of. He was an old man, extremely sensitive to ability, wanting to combine force with refinement if he could; he was a good Christian, and was running Christian, or rather their happy correlatives, decidedly conservative publications. When he went back to his office he consulted with his business partner, a man named Fredericks, who held but a minor share in the company, and asked him if he couldn’t find out something about this promising individual. Fredericks did so. He called up Cookman, in New York, who was delighted to injure his old employee, Summerfield, to the extent of taking away his best man if he could. He told Fredericks that he thought Eugene was very capable, probably the most capable young man in the field, and in all likelihood the man he was looking for—a hustler.

“I thought once of hiring him myself here not long ago,” he told Fredericks. “He has ideas, you can see that.”

The next thing was a private letter from Mr. Fredericks to Mr. Witla asking if by any chance he could come over to Philadelphia the following Saturday afternoon, indicating that there was a business proposition of considerable importance which he wished to lay before him.

From the paper on which it was written Eugene could see that there was something important in the wind, and laid the matter before Angela. The latter’s eyes glistened.