CHAPTER VII. POSTAL REVENUES FROM ADVERTISING.

Now, the Postmaster General’s whole talk—his whole word-splutter—was, it seems, to create an impression that the government was losing millions annually because of the large amount of advertising matter distributed by magazines and other periodicals.

On the other hand, the publishers in their “Exhibit F,” and elsewhere, try to show, and in the writer’s opinion do show quite conclusively and dependably, that the excess of expenditure over receipts in the Postoffice Department would be two to four times greater than it now is were it not for the first, third and fourth class revenues resulting directly from those advertising pages in our periodical literature.

Before giving these publishers a chance to tell the truth, as presented in their “Exhibit F,” I desire to make a few remarks about the point under consideration—the profits to the government from periodical advertising.

The publishers present the evidence of their counting-rooms—the inside testimony. I desire to present some outside testimony.

I may present it in an awkward, raw way, but I have a conceit that the “jury” will give it consideration.

Three months ago, there was a “party at our house.” No, it was not a bridge party. Mrs. M. On The L. has, in my visual range, I can here assure you, many commendable virtues—meritorious qualities and qualifications. Likewise, she has some faults. The latter I cannot, if the dove of peace is to continue perching on our domicile lodge pole, mention here. I may, however, say with entire safety, that “bridge” and alleged similar feminine amusements are not among them.

The party to which I advert was a “tea.” The guests were six,—Mrs. M. On The L. serving. The guests not only had “the run” of the house, but they took possession of it. I stuck to my “den” until it was invaded and then—well, then, my dear trousered reader, I did precisely what you would have done. I backed off—I surrendered.

“What was the result?”

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In this particular case, the chief feature of the result was that these seven women, in less than ten minutes, had appropriated every copy of all the latest, and some a month or more old, of the magazines and weeklies about my work-shop. They also annexed me. I “just had to go downstairs and have a cup of tea with them.” Although I am not entrancingly fond of tea, I did exactly what you would have done. I went. Necessarily, I had to be good. I was good. I said—as near as I knew how—the things that were proper to say and as near the proper time as I could. That is, I said little and listened much.

It is of what I heard—and afterward learned—I wish here to speak. I wish to speak of it because it fits like a glove to the point the publishers make in their “Exhibit F,” which is to follow.

While the hostess was preparing and spreading luncheon—a necessary concomitant of all “teas,” other than mentioned in novels—the six guests scanned the magazines and talked magazines. From their conversation it appeared that five of the six took, either by subscription or news-stand purchase, one or two monthly magazines “regularly.” Whether the ladies read them or not was not made clear to me. One of them did make mention of two “splendid stories”—“The Ne’er do Well,” by Rex Beach, and, at the time of the “tea,” appearing, in serial, in one of the monthlies. The other was a short story entitled “The Quitters,” which, the lady stated, had appeared in one of the magazines some time previous.

Now, so far as I can recall, the reference made by this one of the six ladies was the only mention made of the “literary” features of the magazines they had read or to such features of those they were examining. There was considerable talk and attention given to the body illustrations.

In calling such stories as the lady mentioned “literary” I presume apologies are due the Penrose-Overstreet Commission. While both the stories are “brand-new,” are well written, each teaching a lesson—have, in short, all the essential elements of “currency and periodicity”—yet that commission, in the anxious interest it displayed to secure “a general exclusion act” against fiction in periodicals, would, possibly, see nothing of literary merit in either of the stories the lady mentioned.

I shall, however, offer no apologies to the commission for classing[150] the two stories as literature and of exemplary currency. On a previous page I have given my reasons for differing from the commission on its strictures on current fiction as run in our standard monthlies and weeklies. The lady’s expressed opinion of the two stories is another reason for differing from that expressed by the commission. In my judgment, the lady who spoke has a broader, juster and far more comprehending knowledge of literature—of its merits and demerits, whether fiction, historical, biographical or classic—than has any member of that commission.

But to return to our tea party. Those six ladies scanned and thumbed through my magazines. As said, there was comparatively little talk or comment about the body-matter of the periodicals. But those women—all married, five of them mothers, two of them (three, counting the hostess), grandmothers—gave fully three-fourths of their time to the advertising pages.

But that is not all. Their scanning of the advertising pages of those periodicals developed some business action. The business talk started when one lady called attention to the “ad” of a military school in a town in Wisconsin, “where Thomas attends,” Thomas being her son. It developed that the lady seated next to her had a son Charles whom it was desired to start in some preparatory school in the fall. Another matron had a daughter she desired to have take a course at some school for girls. Both of the ladies with candidates for preparatory courses, however, were of the opinion that all the “good schools” appeared to be in the East and each would prefer to send her son or daughter to some school nearer home. To this opinion the mother of the boy attending the Wisconsin school earnestly protested.

“We have just as good preparatory schools, colleges and universities in the West as they have in the East,” she declared. “My boy is doing splendidly at the——, Wisconsin. He has been there two terms now. If you don’t want to send Charles to a military school, there are a score or more of excellent schools for either boys or girls in the West and South—some of them right near us, too. Just look here!”——

And then began a scurrying through the school “ad” pages of three or four of the magazines for the names and locations of preparatory schools. The advertisements of a number were found.

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“Take the names and addresses and write all of them for their catalogues or prospectuses or pamphlets, giving the courses of study that pupils may take, the advantages they offer and other information. That’s what I did before deciding where to send Thomas. I wrote twenty-two different military schools in the country and got a prompt reply from each of them. In fact some of them wrote me four or five times, besides sending their little printed books which gave their courses of study and set forth the special advantages their students enjoyed.”

Of course, it was Thomas’ mother who spoke. Her suggestion, however, gripped the rails at once. The two matrons with children to place in preparatory schools asked for pencil and paper. I relieved them of the immediate labor of writing out their lists, by gallantly inviting them to take home with them such of the magazines as they thought would serve their purpose, and, as they were near neighbors, they could scan them at their leisure and address directly from the advertisements. I lost three of my favorite magazines on my tender.

“This has no bearing on the point!” Eh? Well, let us see about that.

Of course, I do not know what the mothers of that son and daughter who were to be started in preparatory school work did. It is safe to presume however, that they adopted the plan suggested by Thomas’ mother. We know what she did. At any rate we have her own statement of the course she pursued, and there can be advanced no valid reason for doubting her word. Besides, as she is our “next-door” neighbor, I have made, within the month, special inquiry of her as to what she did. I found that she had kept the catalogues of the schools to which she had written and had carefully “filed” in a twined package, as a careful housekeeper usually files things, every letter she had received from the schools.

More than that: She wrote nine of the schools a second letter and three of them, she wrote four times. To the Wisconsin school to which she finally intrusted the training and instruction of her son she wrote six times.

Now let us see what revenue the federal postal fund actually received from this one mother in her efforts to place her boy in a good, safe school.

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First the mother herself wrote forty-five letters. On these the Postoffice Department collected 90 cents.

Second, her “twine file” shows that, all told, she had received from the twenty-two schools written to, a total of 163 letters. On these the government collected $3.26.

Third, the catalogues sent her were of various sizes. Their carriage charge, at third-class rates, I think would range from two to six cents or more. Putting the average at only three cents, which in my judgment is low, the government collected for their carriage 66 cents.

Fourth, thirteen of the schools, either not knowing her boy had been matriculated or thinking she might have other boys “comin’ on” to preparatory school age, sent her their catalogues for the following year—another 39 cents.

Add those four items and you will readily ascertain that the government received $5.21 in revenue from the efforts of Thomas’ mother to select a school for him—a school that would give him military training and discipline, as well as academic instruction in selected studies.

Her course of action was prompted entirely by the school advertisements she saw in two magazines.

How many other mothers and fathers were influenced to similar action by the three or four school “ad” pages in those two magazines I do not know. There must, however, have been many, I take it, otherwise the schools and preparatory colleges would not persist in advertising so extensively, year after year, during the summer months, in our high-class monthly and weekly periodicals.

The two magazines from which Thomas’ mother got her school address weighed a little under a pound each. If they reached her by mail, the government got only about two cents for their carriage and delivery, which was ample pay—$20.00 a ton—for the service. But supposing Mr. Hitchcock’s wild figures were correct—that it cost the government 18 cents to deliver those two magazines to that mother—a rate of $180.00 per ton. Of course, no man could so suppose unless he stood on his head in one corner of a room and figured results as the square of the distance at which things appeared to him, or chanced to be one of those “blessed” mortals prenatally endowed with what may be called mental strabismus. But for the[153] sake of the argument, let us suppose that it did cost the government 18 cents to deliver those two magazines to Thomas’ mother; let us admit that that falsehood is fact, that that foolishness is sense. Then what?

A magazine weighing one pound and printed on the grade of paper used by our high-class periodicals will count 250 or more pages. Four pages of school “ads,” therefore, would count for about one-fourth of one ounce.

Even at Mr. Hitchcock’s absurd figure of nine cents a pound, the cost to the government of carrying those four pages of school advertisements in each of two monthly magazines to the mother of Thomas was less than four-fifths of one cent.

Do you grasp the point?

Remember, Mr. Hitchcock has separated himself from much talk to show to a doubting public that it is the advertising pages of periodicals which over-burden the postal service and are responsible, largely, for the alleged “deficit.”

I say “alleged” deficit. I say so, because it is not, and never was, a deficit de facto. I shall later give my reasons for so saying—shall show that this much talked of deficit in the Postoffice Department’s revenues is quasi only—a mere matter of accounting, and bad accounting at that.

But here we are considering the cost to the government of carrying and delivering advertising pages to the reading public of this Nation. Especially are we considering the transaction between the government and the mother of Thomas—a transaction induced and promoted by eight pages of advertising—four pages in each of two magazines.

As just stated, it cost the government less than four-fifths of one cent, even if we rate the carriage and delivery cost at Postmaster General Hitchcock’s absurd figure of nine cents a pound, to deliver those eight pages of school advertisement to Thomas’ mother. Even the delivery of the complete magazines which printed those advertising pages would, at Mr. Hitchcock’s own figures, cost the government only about 18 cents. Let’s admit it all—the worst of it, and the worst possible construction that the worst will stand. Then how does the government stand in relation to the resultant transaction—the transaction induced by those eight pages of advertising?

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It cost the government 18 cents, according to Mr. Hitchcock’s method of hurdle estimating, to deliver those two magazines to Thomas’ mother. Well, let it go at that. The government is out, then, 16 cents, the publisher having paid in 2 cents at the present pound rate for mail carriage and delivery.

On the other hand, those two magazines each carried four pages of school “ads.” Those “ads” start Thomas’ mother into a canvass of the schools by correspondence. The result of that canvass, as previously shown, turned into the government’s treasury a gross revenue of $5.21 for postage stamps to cover the first and third-class business resulting.

The government, then, is $5.05 ahead so far as gross receipts and gross revenues are concerned, and it is ahead that sum, in the specific transaction under consideration, solely and only because of those eight pages of school advertisements printed in the two magazines.

Is that not a fair—a just—statement?

As Mr. Hitchcock states that there is a large profit to the government for the stamps sold and as that $5.21 was all for stamps, then those eight pages of advertisements and Thomas’ mother must have turned into the postal fund a handsome net profit on the service rendered by the Postoffice Department.

Now, I desire to return to our “tea.” Two other “business” actions developed which serve to prove the statement made on a previous page, namely: It is the advertising pages of our periodicals which yield the largest revenue to the government for the postal service it renders.

The first of the two postal revenue-producers came up as we sat at luncheon. Each of the ladies had a magazine or weekly in hand. There was as much talking as eating in progress, or more. I presume that is the proper procedure or practice at “tea” luncheons. I am not a competent authority on “tea” proprieties.

One of the ladies “had the floor,” so to speak, and expatiated eloquently and at length on the merits of an electrically heated flat-iron or sad-iron, an advertisement of which she had found in the magazine she was scanning—a cloth smoother she had had in use for some three months. Three of the other matrons were wired—that is, their homes were electrically lighted. The others were getting their[155] domiciliary illumination from what is vulgarly designated as the “Chicago Gas Trust,” at 85 cents per.

“Results?” Three of the assembled party desired to write for “full particulars” about that flat-iron at once.

My boss furnished paper, envelopes, pens and ink. My assigned duty in this business transaction was both simple and secondary. The boss ordered me to go over to the drug store, buy the stamps and mail those three letters.

I did so.

The government got six cents postal revenue from me on that sad-iron “ad.” What further revenue was gleaned from the correspondence between the three ladies and the flat-iron manufacturer I know not.

It took me a long time to reach that drug-store—a short block away—buy the stamps, “lick ’em,” stick them on the envelopes and drop those three letters into the mail-box just outside the druggist’s door. At any rate, the ladies so informed me when I got back. They did it politely, kindly, but very plainly. Not wishing to scarify their feelings by admitting that I had purposely loitered because of an inherent or pre-natal dislike of teas, I did what I thought was the proper thing to do under the stress of impinging circumstances—I lied like a gentleman. I told the ladies that the druggist happened to be out of two-cent stamps and had sent out for them—sent to another drug store for them.

“How unfortunate!” exclaimed one of the party. “We want a lot more stamps. We have each written for a sample of these new biscuits. We have to enclose ten cents in stamps and the letters will have to be stamped. That’s eighty-four cents in stamps and we want to get the letters into the mail tonight.”

Then I was shown the advertisement of the desired “biscuits.” In the good old summer time of our earthly residence, “when life and love were young,” we called such mercantile pastry “crackers.” Mother baked all the biscuits we then ate, or somebody else’s mother baked them. Of course, sometimes Mary, Susie, Annie, Jane or another of the dear girls learned the trick and could “bake as good as mother.” Then she baked the biscuits. And they were biscuits. Now, every cracker is a biscuit, and every biscuit one gets smells and tastes of the bakeshop where it was foundried.

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But that is entirely aside from our subject. The “ad”—a full page—set forth the super-excellence of some recently invented or devised cracker—“biscuit,” if you prefer so to call it. It was an attractively designed and well-written “ad.” The advertiser offered to send a regular-size package of the “biscuits” to anyone on receipt of ten cents in stamps—“enough to cover the postage”—and the name of the grocer with whom the sender of the stamps traded. That, in brief, was the “ad” offer, and each of the ladies wanted those biscuits—my boss as anxious to sample them as any of the others. On a corner of the luncheon table in symmetrical, pyramidal array, was 84 cents in miscellaneous change.

Before it came my turn to speak, Mrs. M. On The L. gave me a scrutinizing look—a censorious look—a look that said, “I know where you have been,” and took the floor. She did not rise in taking it either.

“Oh, he can get the stamps. Take that change and these letters. You can go to some other drug store and get the stamps. Put ten cents in stamps in each envelope and then seal and mail the letters.”

That’s the speech the boss made.

I should be ashamed to admit it, but I am not. There are limits to the endurance of even such a temperate-zone nature as that of the writer. The boss’ speech reached the limit. My patriotism was set all awry. Even my earnest desire to reduce the “deficit” in the postal service was, for the moment, forgotten—was submerged.

I took the 84 cents those friendly ladies had pooled on “biscuits” and the seven unsealed letters, assuring them I would certainly find the stamps. I then went up to my den, unlocked a drawer of my desk, found the stamps, made the enclosures, stamped and sealed the envelopes, and then came down and passed out on my assigned errand. I got back just as the “party” was donning its hat to depart for its several homes, assured it that its orders had been carried out, and, by direction of the boss, escorted home one of its members who had some distance to walk.

Now, I think I did my whole duty to that tea-party, and more than my duty to reduce the postal “deficit.”

I trust the “dear reader” will not have concluded or even thought that I am trying to be funny or humorous, nor even ludicrous. I have been writing of actual occurrences, and writing the facts, too, of[157] those occurrences, as nearly as I can recall them after an interval of less than three months. I introduce the de facto happenings at our “tea party” here because they apply—because they illustrate, they evidence, they prove that the advertising pages of our periodicals are the pages which produce a large part, if indeed, not the larger part of our postal service revenues.

But we must look after our “biscuits” a little further.

The seven women at that tea party spent 84 cents for stamps to get a sample of those crackers. Fourteen cents of these stamps went to cancellation on the letters they mailed. The other 70 cents went to cancellation on the cracker packages which the cracker inventor sent them—cancelled at the fourth-class rate—cancelled at the postal carriage rate of sixteen cents a pound.

Is that all? No it is not all. It is only the first link in a postal revenue producing chain.

The manufacturer of that cracker or biscuit, as you may choose to call it, wrote each of those seven ladies a neat letter of thanks, and neatly giving a further boost to the biscuit. I know this because I have seen the seven letters—all “stock form” letters.

That contributed 14 cents more in postage stamps for cancellation.

Three of the ladies heard from that cracker baker four times. Their grocers probably had not put the cracker in stock. My boss got a second letter from the baker.

That contributed 20 cents more in postage stamps for cancellation.

The advertiser sent by mail to each of the seven grocers the ladies had named a sample package of the “biscuits” and a letter naming the local grocery jobber or jobbers through whom stock could be had, the jobber’s price of it, etc.

That contributed 84 cents more in postage stamps for cancellation.

Nor is that all. My boss’ grocer got three letters from that cracker baker and a visit from a salesman of a local jobber before he “stocked.” If the grocers named by the other six ladies were similarly honored then the builder of those biscuits must have written the seven grocers whom the tea party ladies had named fourteen letters in addition to the first one.

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That contributed 28 cents more in postage stamps for cancellation.

Now let us figure up—or down—how one tea party of seven (I was the working or “worked” member, so am not to be counted in), and a one page “ad” stands in account with the postal revenues.

The magazine carrying the cracker “ad” weighs about a pound. The single “ad” page cannot possibly weigh more than three-fiftieths of one ounce. To carry and deliver that one “ad” page the cost to the government, then, even at Mr. Hitchcock’s extension-ladder rate of 9 cents a pound, would be about one-thirtieth of one cent.

But as we did in the case of the school advertisements previously mentioned, let’s give our Postmaster General the whole “hullin’ uv beans.” Let us credit the government with Mr. Hitchcock’s alleged cost of carrying that magazine to that tea party—nine cents.

Per contra, the government must give that “ad” page credit for producing stamp cancellations to the amount of $2.30.

Figure it out yourself and see if that is not the actual showing of the ledger on this account of the Postoffice Department with that one “ad” page and those seven tea party women.

That, I believe, is fair and sufficient evidence from the outside—from the field—in support of the facts which the publishers present in their “Exhibit F,” and which I shall here reprint:

The astonishing record contained in (Exhibit E), of the absolutely unvarying coincidence of decreases in postoffice deficits with increases in second-class mail is square up against the Postmaster General’s statements that the department loses 8.23 cents on every pound of second-class mail and loses over $60,000,000 a year as a whole, on second-class mail.

What is the explanation? How can the phenomenon of constantly decreasing deficits, coincident with increasing second-class mail, be reconciled? To be sure, the Postmaster General has been trying for two years to make out a case against the magazines, and nothing is better understood than that, under orders, he is using all the figures and the infinite opportunities of such a complex mass of figures as those of the postoffice, to make the case for the magazines as bad as possible. Of course, it does not cost the department 9.23 cents a pound for second-class matter; but also, of course, in all probability, the cost must be more than one-ninth Postmaster General Hitchcock’s figures. Then why is it that the more second-class matter there is mailed the more money the Postoffice Department has?

The answer is that the advertising in the periodicals, the very advertising the Administration is trying to drive out of existence, is far and away the most important creator of profitable first-class postage that exists. That, furthermore,[159] the varied and constant efforts of publishers to extend the circulation of their periodicals by sending out tens of millions of circulars, each making for a 2-cent reply, and the great and complex business that has been built up around the originating and handling of advertising have made this national market for reputable wares—a market where the purchasing is done by mail with 2-cent stamps—the stamps that pay the Postoffice Department’s bills and give it $23,000,000 a year to spend over and above receipts from rural free delivery, in advancing that splendid service for the country dweller.

There were published in 1909 in fifty American magazines 12,859,138 lines of advertising, for over 5,000 advertisers, who used over 25,000 different advertisements, and it is obviously impossible physically to tabulate complete results. But let us nail down certain specific examples of advertisements inserted in magazines, and follow the record right through, of the work they did for the postoffice, the expense they put the postoffice to, and the profit they brought it.

These score or more of specific instances tell the whole story. Read, especially, the first instance—the complete bookkeeping transaction of one magazine advertisement in account with the United States postoffice:

A MAGAZINE ADVERTISEMENT IN ACCOUNT WITH THE UNITED STATES POST OFFICE.

In the Saturday Evening Post of November 26, 1910, was published a 224-line advertisement of the Review of Reviews.

Three thousand seven hundred replies were received, 1,776 of them inclosing each 10 cents in first-class postage.

The paper on which this advertisement was printed weighed 0.132815 ounce. The half of it printed with the advertisement weighed 0.06640625 ounce.

One million seventy thousand copies of the Saturday Evening Post were sent through the United States mails, so that the postoffice transported 4,440.9 pounds of this advertisement. At 9.23 cents per pound—the pound cost of transporting and handling second-class matter given by the Postoffice Department—the total cost of giving the postoffice services to this advertisement was $409.90; postage paid at 1 cent a pound, $44.41; loss to postoffice, $365.49.

THE POSTOFFICE’S GROSS AND NET GAIN FROM FIRST-CLASS POSTAGE CREATED.
3,700 inquiries were received by the Review of Reviews.    
3,700 2-cent stamps for inquiries     $74.00
3,700 acknowledgments under 2-cent stamp     74.00
Six follow-ups to 3,700 inquiries under 2-cent stamps     444.00
1,776 inquiries sent 10 cents in stamps     177.60
740 sales are made, each involving 12 bills and 12 remittances, under 2-cent stamp     355.00
The 3,700 names of inquiries will be circulated at least three times a year for five years, under 2-cent stamps (a practical certainty of twice as many circularizations)     1,110.00
Total gross direct sales of 2-cent stamps from advertisement     $2,234.60
[160]Profit of 40 per cent, according to profit percentage of Postmaster General on first-class postage     $893.84
Direct loss in transporting and handling advertisement, cost figured at 9.23 cents a pound, income at 1 cent     365.49
Ultimate minimum net gain to postoffice in having carried this advertisement     $528.35

MORE SPECIFIC EXAMPLES OF PROFITABLE POSTAGE ORIGINATED BY MAGAZINE ADVERTISING.

Names of concerns are withheld here. The original documents on which these statements rest are in the possession of the postal committee of the Periodical Publishers’ Association, 156 Fifth Avenue, New York City. These are only a few samples of hundreds that have come, and are printed to suggest the details of the methods by which national magazine advertising far more than pays its way when sent out through America at 1 cent a pound second-class postal rate.

“Mr. E. W. Hazen, Advertising Director.

“Dear Mr. Hazen: During the year 1910 we paid the Postoffice Department for carrying our first, third and fourth class mail matter the sum of $496,749.88. We shipped during the year 1910, 1,717,514 packages. Of these 809,781 were sent by mail and 907,733 by express. All of these would have been sent by parcels post if the postal rates and regulations permitted. We paid the express companies for the transportation of the packages referred to above $347,392.30.”

The above statement covers only mail matter sent out of this house. The figures given are accurate. Any statement of the number of pieces of mail matter which we receive would be approximate, but we can safely state that it was in excess of 4,500,000 pieces of first-class mail matter. This estimate is entirely conservative.

Here is another postal bill of one of the many great “mail order” magazine advertisers—a company which sells excellent clothing to women who can not come to the great cities and their department stores. The president of the company writes:

“As we are a mail-order concern, our business is derived entirely, either directly or indirectly, from our magazine advertising. During the year 1909 we paid the Postoffice Department for carrying our first, third and fourth class mail matter the sum of $433,242.”

What an advertisement in one issue of one magazine did for another women’s “wearing apparel” house is recorded in their books as follows:

The postage required to answer the 15,000 replies from the one-column insertion in the magazine, also to send the merchandise required by 2,000 of the inquirers, also to “follow up” other inquirers, etc., amounted to $5,460.

The government charge for carrying this advertisement through the second-class mails was $38.83.

That $5,460, by the way, did not include the several hundred dollars spent on postage by the inquirers themselves.

The president of a concern which publishes encyclopedias, natural histories,[161] classics, etc., investigated the relations with the postoffice of a recent page of his advertising inserted in a single magazine, and the correspondence which resulted.

The stamps and money orders bought by the inquirers and by the publishing company, as the result of the 4,000 answers to this one advertisement, amounted to $884.

The publishers paid the postoffice to carry that page, at second-class rate, $12.

Thus, even if it had not already been disproved that the second-class rate is insufficient, it would still have been mightily unfortunate for the department’s business if that page advertisement had not appeared. A good business man would be willing to lose several times $12 in order to do $884 worth of business as profitable to himself as first-class mail is to the government.

Scores of apparently small advertisers are found in any issue of any popular magazine. They are just as good customers to the postoffice, in proportion, as the big concerns using columns or pages.

ONE INCH—$5,492 STAMPS A YEAR.

A modest 1-inch magazine advertisement is printed by a company, which reports that its yearly postage account from that cause is $5,132. Adding the approximate postage on the 1,500 letters a month sent to the company, the yearly total of postage created by this inconspicuous concern through the magazine is found to be $5,492.

ONE-HALF INCH—$590 A MONTH.

A half-inch magazine space is used each month by a certain electric manufacturing company in the Middle West, but its postage records show stamp purchases for a single month (November, 1909), resulting from that half-inch advertisement of $590.
Two quarter-column announcements of a dress fabric, appealing to women, in a single magazine, brought 7,000 replies, involving postage stamps worth     $230.00
Pretty good business getters for the department? These “ads” cost the publishers to mail, at second-class rates     19.40
Even better, in proportion, was a one-fifth-column appeal to mothers in one issue of the same magazine. It produced postage to the amount of     240.00
To carry the little advertisement at second-class rates the government charged     7.76
A single-column magazine “ad” of a Chicago clothing firm, with a number of retail stores over the country, brought 4,000 inquiries which, with the following up, etc., caused postage of     380.00
That column cost the publisher to mail, at second-class rates     38.67
The Woman’s Home Companion sent a letter to the advertisers in its November issue, asking for a memorandum of the letter postage on the inquiries from their November advertising and the answers to these inquiries. Seventy-five advertisers reported, with definite figures, an aggregate letter-postage expenditure of     $3,385.90

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The Woman’s Home Companion paid the government just $583 for carrying that portion of the magazine on which these 75 advertisements were printed.

Any advertising man can point to hundreds of “mail-order firms” like the above. These firms can trace directly to their magazine advertising, every year, purchases of millions of dollars’ worth of the stamps that make big profits for the postoffice.

It is even more surprising to learn the enormous postage bills caused by an entirely different class of magazine advertisers—the “general publicity,” or “national” advertisers—who wish the reader to ask for their fine soaps, or mattresses, or silks, or stationery at his local store. These firms do not depend on direct replies, yet they receive so many that thousands of dollars are spent for stamps per year in scores of cases—even per month in many.

EVEN THE “GENERAL” OR “PUBLICITY” MAGAZINE ADVERTISING CREATES ENORMOUS STAMP SALES.

A moderate-priced shoe is sold through a number of retail stores in different cities. The manufacturers advertise in magazines for national “publicity,” to bring buyers into these stores. Incidentally they mention their department to fill orders by mail. Thus an enormous correspondence has been built up, of which the average annual increase alone during the last three years has involved 264,000 first-class letters—a minimum postage of $5,280. This is simply one yearly addition to the company’s already first-class business, of which it writes that “all but a nominal percentage” has been “induced by our magazine advertisements.”

More than $15,000 was spent for postage by a mattress manufacturer last year, “following up” inquiries received from his magazine advertising, though it is designed to create a demand for the mattress at local furniture stores.

This $15,000 is over and above his steady correspondence with dealers, etc., which was built up in the first place by magazine advertising.

One of the many recent “contests” conducted by magazine advertisers was that of a stationery company. Theirs is also “publicity,” not mail-order advertising. It is designed to create a demand for their paper over the stationery store counters. But their “contest” awhile ago, announced exclusively in the magazines, brought 59,000 replies, which, with follow-up, etc., averaged 12 cents first-class postage—a total of $7,080 in one month.

Here is still another “publicity” experience. In the course of familiarizing women with a new trade-mark for silk by means of magazine advertising, the manufacturers incurred postage bills, during the first 11 months of 1909, amounting to $7,979.75. About $2,000 more ought to be added to represent the stamps purchased by the prospective silk-dress wearers themselves.
Another “contest,” held by a national advertiser, brought 12,089 replies from a single insertion in one magazine, to handle which postage stamps had to be bought for more than     $600.00
[163] The publishers paid to have that page carried through the mails, at second-class rates     97.66
A half page in one issue of another magazine brought 4,000 letters from inquirers, which, with “follow-up,” etc., meant stamp purchases     200.00
The carriage of that half page at second-class rates was     25.62

Magazine advertisements of a popular cold cream brought 170,000 letters to the manufacturers last year, though the controlling purpose of the campaign was to get the public to ask for that kind of cold cream at the drug stores.

Not including postal orders, special-delivery stamps, etc., the stamp revenue to the government from these letters was $8,500. And, of course, that does not include the profuse correspondence between the manufacturers, the jobbers, the drug stores all over the country, and so on.
For another toilet preparation a single advertisement in a leading weekly magazine brought more than 13,000 replies. The stamps involved here add up to     $990.00
The publishers paid the postoffice to carry this advertisement, at the second-class rate     48.83
A household remedy, seen in most drug stores, was mentioned to the extent of one-quarter page in a single issue of one magazine. The requests for samples numbered 1,685. The postage involved was     202.20

Another “drug store” preparation frequently brings the manufacturer 2,000 to 6,000 letters each month from their magazine advertising of it, though that is, of course, for “publicity,” first of all. A single insertion last fall brought 12,000 inquiries, which created, first and last, the purchase of $750 in stamps.

A system of physical culture for women put quarter pages in several magazines during the month of November, from which 3,905 letters were received. In this case, the total postage, including follow-up and correspondence back and forth, was $1,104.09 for that month of November alone.

Narrow limits would be expected in the demand for expensive silverage. Yet a silversmith’s two advertisements in the November and December magazines brought 45,000 requests for catalogues. These had already involved by January 13, with the following up, etc., a postage bill of $5,510.

Another big postage bill was also incurred, incidentally, by a company which uses magazine advertising to bring buyers into drug stores, etc., asking for certain shaving soaps and the like. Still their postage bill during 1909, as a result of inquiries from their advertising, was $3,656.08. This does not include the stamps bought by the inquirers—probably $1,000 more.
A similar soap was described in a page advertisement which, printed in one magazine one time, brought more than 30,000 letters. First-class postage on them and the answers to them aggregated more than     $900.00
The charge for carrying that page, at the second-class rate, was about     120.00

THE LARGE STAMP PURCHASES OF ENTIRE BUSINESSES DEPEND ON MAGAZINE ADVERTISING.

All the above examples are of postage sales caused by magazine advertising directly, in point of time. Just as directly caused are the sales for correspondence[164] between manufacturer, jobber, retailer, agent, etc., in the many businesses that have been built up by magazine advertising.

A camera company writes: “There is a magnificent revenue to the government through our correspondence with these dealers, through their correspondence with their customers, and through their sending our printed matter, furnished by us, at a postage cost of $100, and such dealer could not afford to go to this expense were it not for the fact that this local advertising which he does is backed up by our general magazine publicity.”

This one result of magazine work is figured by the company at tens of thousands of dollars every year in postage.

The postage-stamp revenue created by magazine advertising keeps on for months, and years even, between the advertiser and the consumer, in cases like correspondence schools, for instance.

One prominent company writes that it not only spends $429 per month in postage, answering inquiries which themselves account for about $100 more, but that it enrolls per month more than 2,200 new scholars—and every scholar, by the time he has received all his numerous “lessons,” etc., costs the school about $3.50 more in postage. Thus each month creates about $7,700 more in postage bills for this school, not counting nearly as much again which the scholars must spend.

“Our advertising,” writes a leading investment banker, “by reason of names being placed on our mailing list for circulation, etc., costs us several thousand dollars a year for postage, which would not be the case if we were not doing and had done advertising.”

In fact, there would be little left of the department’s profitable postage stamp sales were the big magazine houses crippled. The publishers are the largest buyers of lists of names used for circulation. To circularize these lists many millions of 2-cent stamps are bought every year.

“Our entire mail order book business,” writes a Western firm, “has been built up through magazine advertising. Last year our postal bill amounted to $12,298.57. This was used on circular matter and letters. If the circulation of the magazines should be reduced, and it is our opinion that it would be if the postage rate should be increased, our postage bill would be reduced proportionately.”

There is much more to be said in support of my contention that the advertising pages of our periodicals are their revenue-producing pages, but it cannot now here be said, as I must pass to another division of our general subject.

We have devoted most of our previous space to Mr. Hitchcock’s “rider,” to the influences and influencers that originated it and tried to push it—by methods adroit and scrupulously unscrupulous—into federal enactment—into operative law. At this point of our presentation of the general subject of Postal Riders and Raiders, it was[165] my original intention to take up generally the raider features or elements as planned for discussion in this volume. I intended to start just here to discuss the Postoffice Department “deficit,” of which Mr. Hitchcock has had so much to say—and of which he made voluminous and eloquent use during his efforts to bring his “rider” a safe winner under the wire. I intended, as just said, to begin to write about the postal “deficit” just here—a deficit which never had real existence, since the days of the “pony post” and “mail coach,” save in quasi form—in methods covering political lootage and looters.

Well, I have changed my original plan a little. I’ll run a few lines through that “deficit”—twaddle-talk, a little further on. Here I will merely repeat what I have already said, in substance at least.

There never has been a postal deficit since the period I have indicated, save deficits created by official crooks and crookedness, by “interests” which hired the official crooks and bought the crookedness, and by department accounting methods which would put Standard Oil or a Western cow ranch on the financial blink inside of thirty-six months, or even in twelve.

We will discuss this artistic “deficit” later. Here I now desire to advert to, and animadvert on, another point which has been brought forcibly to my attention recently—weeks, some two months, after I climbed up here to take a look over the general situation, and then chanced, through the aid of a Congressman friend, to get my distance glasses focused on this postoffice foolery.

Foolery, I have written. I was wrong. There was no foolery about it. It was a calculated, a studied, a cold-blooded partisan stab at one of the greatest and most helpful—most up-building—industries in this country.

But we will let that point and the “deficit” rest for the present. It appears that one of Mr. Hitchcock’s much-worked arguments to harvest or glean votes for his rider amendment was that the amendment would “affect only a few magazine publishers,” or that “only a few magazine publishers, at most, would be affected by the amendment and that they had enriched themselves by the special privilege granted by the second-class mail rate statute of 1885,” etc., etc.

Various newspapers quoted Mr. Hitchcock variously on the same point or to the same end, and two Congressmen acquaintances reported that he had personally talked to them along the same lines.

[166]

Only a “few magazine publishers” would be affected by legislation of the character recommended in the rider amendment? That is the point I desire here and now to consider. I hope the reader will go carefully and thoughtfully through the consideration with me.

First it may be said, and safely admitted, that no such legislation as that recommended in the “rider” previously discussed, would be sustained by any court in this country, unless its wording was so modified as to make its requirements and restrictions apply to all periodicals, or at least to all monthly and weekly periodicals. Even then, it is doubtful if any court could be found to sustain such a piece of class or special legislation unless its terms were broadened to cover newspapers, so numerously and so aggressively are the latter trenching upon what is generally recognized as the weekly and monthly periodical field of effort, influence and usefulness.

I think that any informed, fair-minded reader will agree that that statement is a fair statement of governing facts, unless we question the honesty of our courts in the discharge of their judicial duties or question the juridic honesty of some member or members of the ruling court.

That may read like a blunt or offensive way of putting it. But we are not writing of a Palm Beach twilight party nor of a Newport frolic. We are writing of and to a serious subject—a subject which vitally touches and trenches into the vital interests of ninety millions of people—the ninety millions who are the blood and bone and sinew of this nation of ours. It is a subject of such grave import as to make it necessary that we call a spade a spade, a thief a thief, a scoundrel a scoundrel, and judicial weakness, judicial treachery.

That is why I put, plain and strong, the point that no court could be found in this country to sustain legislation of the character covered in Mr. Hitchcock’s “rider” amendment to the 1911 postoffice appropriation bill, and that every informed, fair-minded man must concur in the statements that I have made in the three or four preceding paragraphs.

That “rider” amendment would “affect only a few magazine publishers,” says Mr. Hitchcock, or as he is reported to have said.

Now, let us look over the field a little. Let us make an honest, intelligent effort—an effort not warped by political hopes and[167] aspirations nor by personal prejudices and interests—to see who or whom would be affected by such special or class legislation.

First, the reader must get a mental hip-lock or strangle-hold on the fact that the second-class mail business of this country—the output of periodical publishers—in marketed values, is somewhere around one billion dollars a year.

As has previously been stated, and I believe well sustained by the facts, no business, however well established, can stand an increase of 300 per cent in the haulage and delivery cost of its output without sustaining great financial loss. The fair-minded reader will, I believe, agree that the publishers in presenting their case to Mr. Hitchcock, to the Penrose-Overstreet and other commissions, proved the truth of that statement quite conclusively.

Well, if that be true, legislation of the sort proposed in the Hitchcock “rider” must necessarily, after adjudication, put all the lesser weeklies and monthlies (those not financially strong) out of business. Likewise hundreds of the smaller newspapers must discontinue issue. Of course, Mr. Hitchcock prattled about the newspapers not being affected by his proposed amendment. But, as previously stated, no court of justice in this country would sustain such a biased, prejudiced piece of class legislation as that proposed in the “rider.”