The Genius by Theodore Dreiser

And then his work with Townsend Miller and under Mr. Kalvin. How much he had learned of the editorial game by merely talking and planning with those two men! He had got the whole idea of timely topics, of big progressive, national forecasts and features, of odd departments and interesting pieces of fiction and personality studies, from talking with Miller alone. Kalvin had made clear to him what constituted great craftsmen. Of course, long before, he had suspected just how it was, but in Philadelphia he had sat in conference with Miller and Kalvin, and knew. He had practically managed the former’s little art department for him without paying much attention to it either. Couldn’t he really handle this greater thing if he tried? If he didn’t, someone else would. Would the man who would, be so much greater than himself?

“I’m not anxious that you should act hastily,” said Colfax soothingly, after a little bit, for he saw that Eugene was debating the question solemnly and that it was a severe problem for him. “I know how you feel. You have gone into the Kalvin Company and you’ve made good. They’ve been nice to you. It’s only natural that they should be. You hate to leave. Well, think it over. I won’t tempt you beyond your best judgment. Think it over. There’s a splendid chance here. Just the same, I like you, and I think you are the man to get away with it. Come down to my place tomorrow and let me show you what we have. I want to show our resources. I don’t think you know how big this thing really is.”

“Yes, I do,” replied Eugene, smiling. “It certainly is a fascinating proposition. But I can’t make up my mind about it now. It’s something I want to think about. I’d like to take my time, and I’ll let you know.”

“Take all the time you want, my boy! Take all the time you want!” exclaimed Colfax. “I’ll wait for you a little while. I’m in no life-or-death hurry. This position can’t be filled satisfactorily in a minute. When you’re ready, let me know what you decide. And now let’s go to the theatre—what do you say?”

The automobile was called, Mrs. Colfax and her guest, Miss Genier, appeared. There was an interesting evening in a box, with Eugene talking gaily and entertainingly to all, and then an after-theatre bite at Sherry’s. The next morning, for he stayed all night at Colfax’s, they visited the United Magazines Corporation building together, and at noon Eugene returned to Philadelphia.

His head was fairly seething and ringing with all he had seen and heard. Colfax was a great man, he thought, greater in some respects than Kalvin. He was more forceful, more enthusiastic, younger—more like himself, than Kalvin. He could never fail, he was too rich. He would make a success of this great corporation—a tremendous success—and if he went he might help make it with him. What a thing that would be! Very different from working for a corporation with whose success he had never had anything to do. Should he ignore this offer? New York, a true art and literary standing; a great executive and social standing; fame; money—all these were calling. Why, on eighteen or twenty-five thousand he could have a splendid studio apartment of his own, say on Riverside Drive; he could entertain magnificently; he could keep an automobile without worrying about it. Angela would cease feeling that they had to be careful. It would be the apex of lieutenantship for him. Beyond that he would take stock in the company, or a business of his own. What a long distance he had come from the days when, here as a boy, he had walked the streets, wondering where he would find a $3 room, and when as an art failure he carried his paintings about and sold them for ten and fifteen dollars. Dear Heaven, what peculiar tricks fortune could play!

The discussion with Angela of this proposition led to some additional uncertainty, for although she was greatly impressed with what Colfax offered, she was afraid Eugene might be making a mistake in leaving Kalvin. The latter had been so nice to Eugene. He had never associated with him in any intimate way, but he and Angela had been invited to his home on several formal occasions, and Eugene had reported that Kalvin was constantly giving him good advice. His attitude in the office was not critical but analytic and considerate.

“He’s been mighty nice to me,” Eugene said to her one morning at breakfast; “they all have. It’s a shame to leave him. And yet, now that I look at it, I can see very plainly that there is never going to be the field here that there will be with the United Company. They have the publications and the book business, and the Kalvin Company hasn’t and won’t have. Kalvin is too old. They’re in New York, too; that’s one thing I like about it. I’d like to live in New York again. Wouldn’t you?”

“It would be fine,” said Angela, who had never really cared for Philadelphia and who saw visions of tremendous superiority in this situation. Philadelphia had always seemed a little out of the way of things after New York and Paris. Only Eugene’s good salary and the comforts they had experienced here had made it tolerable. “Why don’t you speak to Mr. Kalvin and tell him just what Mr. Colfax says,” she asked. “It may be that he’ll offer to raise your salary so much that you’ll want to stay when he hears of this.”

“No danger,” replied Eugene. “He may raise it a bit, but he never can pay me twenty-five thousand dollars a year. There isn’t any reason for paying it. It takes a corporation like the United to do it. There isn’t a man in our place gets that, unless it is Fredericks. Besides, I could never be anything more here, or much more, than advertising manager. Miller has that editorial job sewed up. He ought to have it, too, he’s a good man. This thing that Colfax offers lets me out into a new field. I don’t want to be an advertising manager all my days if I can help it!”

“I don’t want you to be, either, Eugene,” sighed Angela. “It’s a shame you can’t quit entirely and take up your art work. I’ve always thought that if you were to stop now and go to painting you would make a success of it. There’s nothing the matter with your nerves now. It’s just a question of whether we want to live more simply for a while and let you work at that. I’m sure you’d make a big success of it.”

“Art doesn’t appeal to me so much as it did once,” replied Eugene. “I’ve lived too well and I know a lot more about living than I once did. Where could I make twelve thousand a year painting? If I had a hundred thousand or a couple of hundred thousand laid aside, it would be a different thing, but I haven’t. All we have is that Pennsylvania Railroad stock and those lots in Montclair eating their merry little heads off in taxes, and that Steel common stock. If we go back to New York we ought to build on that Montclair property, and rent it if we don’t want to live in it. If I quit now we wouldn’t have more than two thousand dollars a year outside of what I could earn, and what sort of a life can you live on that?”

Angela saw, disappearing under those circumstances, the rather pleasant world of entertainment in which they were disporting themselves. Art distinction might be delightful, but would it furnish such a table as they were sitting at this morning? Would they have as nice a home and as many friends? Art was glorious, but would they have as many rides and auto trips as they had now? Would she be able to dress as nicely? It took money to produce a variety of clothing—house, street, evening, morning and other wear. Hats at thirty-five and forty dollars were not in the range of artists’ wives, as a rule. Did she want to go back to a simpler life for his art’s sake? Wouldn’t it be better to have him go with Mr. Colfax and make $25,000 a year for a while and then have him retire?

“You’d better talk to Mr. Kalvin,” she counseled. “You’ll have to do that, anyhow. See what he says. After that you can decide what you must do.”

Eugene hesitated, but after thinking it all over he decided that he would.

One morning not long after, when he met Mr. Kalvin in the main hall on the editorial floor, he said, “I’d like to talk to you for a few moments some time today alone, Mr. Kalvin, if you can spare me the time.”