The Genius by Theodore Dreiser

Chapter 37

The best positions are not always free from the most disturbing difficulties, for great responsibility goes with great opportunity; but Eugene went gaily to this new task, for he knew that it could not possibly be much more difficult than the one he was leaving. Truly, Summerfield had been a terrible man to work for. He had done his best by petty nagging, insisting on endless variations, the most frank and brutal criticism, to break down Eugene’s imperturbable good nature and make him feel that he could not reasonably hope to handle the situation without Summerfield’s co-operation and assistance. But he had only been able, by so doing, to bring out Eugene’s better resources. His self-reliance, coolness under fire, ability to work long and ardently even when his heart was scarcely in it, were all strengthened and developed.

“Well, luck to you, Witla,” he said, when Eugene informed him one morning that he was going to leave and wished to give him notice.

“You needn’t take me into consideration. I don’t want you to stay if you’re going to go. The quicker the better. These long drawn-out agonies over leaving don’t interest me. There’s nothing in that. Clinch the job today if you want it. I’ll find someone.”

Eugene resented his indifference, but he only smiled a cordial smile in reply. “I’ll stay a little while if you want me to—one or two weeks—I don’t want to tie up your work in any way.”

“Oh, no, no! You won’t tie up my work. On your way, and good luck!”

“The little devil!” thought Eugene; but he shook hands and said he was sorry. Summerfield grinned imperturbably. He wound up his affairs quickly and got out. “Thank God,” he said the day he left, “I’m out of that hell hole!” But he came to realize afterward that Summerfield had rendered him a great service. He had forced him to do his best and utmost, which no one had ever done before. It had told in his character, his spiritual make-up, his very appearance. He was no longer timid and nervous, but rather bold and determined-looking. He had lost that fear of very little things, for he had been sailing through stormy seas. Little storms did not—could never again—really frighten him. He had learned to fight. That was the one great thing Summerfield had done for him.

In the offices of the Kalvin Company it was radically different. Here was comparative peace and quiet. Kalvin had not fought his way up by clubbing little people through little difficulties, but had devoted himself to thinking out a few big things, and letting them because of their very bigness and newness make their own way and his. He believed in big men, honest men—the biggest and most honest he could find. He saw something in Eugene, a tendency toward perfection perhaps which attracted him.

The formalities of this new arrangement were soon concluded, and Eugene came into his new and beautiful offices, heralded by the word recently passed about that he was a most charming man. He was greeted by the editor, Townsend Miller, in the most cordial manner. He was met by his assembled staff in the most friendly spirit. It quite took Eugene’s breath away to realize that he was the responsible head of some fifteen capable advertising men here in Philadelphia alone, to say nothing of eight more in a branch office in Chicago and traveling canvassers in the different parts of the country—the far West, the South, the Southwest, the Canadian Northwest. His material surroundings were much more imposing than they had been with the Summerfield Company. The idea of all these men was to follow up business, to lay interesting propositions before successful merchants and manufacturers who had not yet tried the columns of the North American Weekly, to make contracts which should be mutually advantageous to the advertiser and the Weekly, and to gain and retain good-will according to the results rendered. It was no very difficult task in connection with the North American Weekly to do this, because owing to a novel and appealing editorial policy it was already in possession of a circulation of five hundred thousand a week, and was rapidly gaining more. It was not difficult, as Eugene soon found, to show advertisers in most cases that this was a proposition in which worth-while results could be obtained. What with Eugene’s fertility in suggesting new methods of advertising, his suaveness of approach and geniality in laying before the most recalcitrant his very desirable schemes, his ability to get ideas and suggestions out of his men in conference, he was really in no danger of not being able to hold his own, and indeed was destined to make a rather remarkable showing.

Eugene and Angela settled into what might have been deemed a fixed attitude of comfort and refinement. Without much inconvenience to himself and with little friction among those about, he had succeeded in reorganizing his staff along lines which were eminently satisfactory to himself. Some men who were formerly with the Summerfield Company were now with him. He had brought them because he found he could inculcate in them the spirit of sympathetic relationship and good understanding such as Kalvin desired. He was not making the progress which Summerfield was making with really less means at his command, but then, on the other hand, this was a rich company which did not ask or expect any such struggle as that which Summerfield had been and was still compelled to make for himself. The business ethics of this company were high. It believed in clean methods, good salaries, honest service. Kalvin liked him, and he had one memorable conversation with Eugene some time after he came there—almost a year—which stuck in his memory and did him much good. Kalvin saw clearly wherein both his strength and his weakness lay, and once said to Fredericks, his business manager: “The one thing I like about that man is his readiness with ideas. He always has one, and he’s the most willing man to try I ever knew. He has imagination. He needs to be steadied in the direction of sober thought, so that he doesn’t promise more than he can fulfil. Outside this I see nothing the matter with him.”

Fredericks agreed. He liked Eugene also. He did as much as he could to make things smooth, but of course Eugene’s task was personal and to be worked out by him solely. Kalvin said to him when it became necessary to raise his salary:

“I’ve watched your work for a year now and I’m going to keep my word and raise your salary. You’re a good man. You have many excellent qualities which I want and need in the man who sits at that desk; but you have also some failings. I don’t want you to get offended. A man in my position is always like a father who sits at the head of a family, and my lieutenants are like my sons. I have to take an interest in them because they take an interest in me. Now you’ve done your work well—very well, but you are subject to one fault which may sometime lead into trouble. You’re a little too enthusiastic. I don’t think you stop to think enough. You have a lot of ideas. They swarm in your head like bees, and sometimes you let them all out at once and they buzz around you and confuse you and everyone else connected with you. You would really be a better man if you had, not less ideas—I wouldn’t say that—but better control of them. You want to do too many things at once. Go slow. Take your time. You have lots of time. You’re young yet. Think! If you’re in doubt, come down and consult with me. I’m older in this business than you are, and I’ll help you all I can.”

Eugene smiled and said: “I think that’s true.”

“It is true,” said Kalvin; “and now I want to speak of another thing which is a little more of a personal matter, and I don’t want you to take offence, for I’m saying it for your benefit. If I’m any judge of men, and I flatter myself sometimes that I am, you’re a man whose greatest weakness lies—and, mind you, I have no actual evidence to go upon, not one scrap—your greatest weakness lies perhaps not so much in the direction of women as in a love of luxury generally, of which women might become, and usually are, a very conspicuous part.”

Eugene flushed the least bit nervously and resentfully, for he thought he had conducted himself in the most circumspect manner here—in fact, everywhere since the days he had begun to put the Riverwood incident behind him.

“Now I suppose you wonder why I say that. Well, I raised two boys, both dead now, and one was just a little like you. You have so much imagination that it runs not only to ideas in business, but ideas in dress and comfort and friends and entertainment. Be careful of the kind of people you get in with. Stick to the conservative element. It may be hard for you, but it’s best for you, materially speaking. You’re the kind of man, if my observations and intuitions are correct, who is apt to be carried away by his ideals of anything—beauty, women, show. Now I have no ascetic objections to women, but to you they are dangerous, as yet. At bottom, I don’t think you have the making of a real cold business man in you, but you’re a splendid lieutenant. I’ll tell you frankly I don’t think a better man than you has ever sat, or could sit, in that chair. You are very exceptional, but your very ability makes you an uncertain quantity. You’re just on the threshold of your career. This additional two thousand dollars is going to open up new opportunities to you. Keep cool. Keep out of the hands of clever people. Don’t let subtle women come near. You’re married, and for your sake I hope you love your wife. If you don’t, pretend to, and stay within the bounds of convention. Don’t let any scandal ever attach to you. If you do it will be absolutely fatal so far as I am concerned. I have had to part with a number of excellent men in my time because a little money turned their heads and they went wild over some one woman, or many women. Don’t you be that way. I like you. I’d like to see you get along. Be cold if you can. Be careful. Think. That’s the best advice I can give you, and I wish you luck.”