OVERHEARD!

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1683, 1 June 1904, Page 79 (Supplement)

OVERHEARD!

NEWSPAPER ENTERPRISE.

"They’re all wrong,” be said. "Thousands of newspapers! and every single one wrong.” I had always thought ho was a lunatic. Every me ruing he plunged dotvn upon the platform, bought a dozen newspapers, wound himself about with them like a Laoeoon, and then sat up straight in the railway carriage and talked—wild-eyed and locse-moufched. Undoubtedly a lunatic. It was not pleasant to be alone with him yesterday morning as his silly face emerged from the coils of the morning Press. "All wrong!’-’ he cried, tearing the "Times” across, kicking the "Mail” under the seat, and pitching the "Post” out of the window. What do you say?” "Every cue all the time? Surely ——” I began soothingly.

"Every one,” he repeated, "from 'illfoundation.* They begin wrong, and they must end in ruin. I'm going to start: a uewsoaper myself, on the right lines.” Unquestionably a lunatic.' I inquired as fc> the lines, since the train was* an express, and I could hot remember where the alarm signal started. "Look here! You know something about newspapers?” "I write for them, sometimes.” "And they pay you for writing?” "Invariably.” "Then they’re fools!”

The poor fellow was a lunatic—probably with the strength of ten sane men, so [ did not resent openly, but smiled a question.

“I suppose as a sensible man,” lie continued, "you know that what all the papers _ want u advertisements. They can’t live without them.”

I admitted, that I supposed as much. "Then you’re with me,” cried the lunatic. "Certainly,” I protested. "Is it diflicult to get articles and such stuff? I'm told that every daily news*, paper _ has enough material in the way of articles to ; fill- itself three times over. But no newspaper' has all the advertisements it c-puld cat. That's so, isnt’ it?” Of course I humoured him. "Now. you see the point.” He leaned forward and wagged a finger ini my face. "What is the use of paying silly prices for what you can get more than enough of. and charging heavily for what you lack? There never was such nonsense." "I don’t call the prices exactly silly," I murmured.

"SSilly? Preposterous! I'> T ow my new paper—you may write for it if you like—as much as' you like—you’re fairly well off, I suppose?' - I shook rny head sadly. “Then you must advertise. I like you. You shall advertise." Here x began to be really interested. “Don’t you see the folly/’ he continued, “of ignoring the law o* supply and demand. There are thousands of people who want to' write in. the newspapers, and what the newspapers really want are advertisers.” A look of maniacal ci,lining crept into his eyes as the train slowed down—to my great content. “In my new paper we shall pas’ - the advertisers generously, and we shall charge the writer on a sliding scale—the worse he is the more he will have to pay. That’s business. Think of the advertisements! You may advertise, if you like.” It was a great relief when the madman rushed across the platform for a cao and disappeared, J