Caslon types on Strathmore papers having proved so popular, business was humming. A “Victor” bicycle catalog for the Overman Wheel Company, involving a long run in two colors on Strathmore book and cover papers, and an historically-illustrated catalog for the new “Colonial” flatware pattern of the Towle Silversmiths of Newburyport, for which Strathmore’s deckle edge papers and Caslon types were strikingly appropriate, together with the increased circulation of Bradley: His Book, now a much larger format than the original issues, necessitated the addition of another cylinder press, the largest “Century” then being made by the Campbell Press Company; and also the employment of an additional pressman and two additional feeders, and keeping the presses running nights as well as days, often necessitating my remaining at the plant throughout the full twenty-four hours—quite a change from the humble beginnings of the Wayside Press when one “Universal” and two “Gordon” job presses were believed sufficient for the magazine and booklet printing then planned.
In this growth of the commercial printing involving lay-outs and supervision, together with trying to edit and publish an art magazine, I had waded far beyond my depth. When I was starting my Wayside Press in Springfield a business man had advised: “Learn to creep before you try to walk, and learn to walk before you try to run.” I had tried to run before even learning to creep. Mr. Moses gave me what I am now sure was much good business advice—but, alas, I was temperamentally unfitted to listen and learn and, knowing nothing about finances, was eventually overwhelmed and broke under the strain and had to go away for a complete rest. With no one trained to carry on in my absence it was necessary to cease publication of Bradley: His Book and in order to insure delivery on time of the catalogs and other commercial printing, forms were lifted from the presses and transferred to the University Press at Cambridge; and the Wayside Press as a unit, including name and goodwill and my own services, soon followed—a hurried and ill-conceived arrangement that eventually proved so mutually unsatisfactory that I faded out of the picture.
This was a heart-breaking decision for me, and one that but for the wisdom of my wife and her rare understanding and nursing could have resulted in a long and serious illness. No printing and publishing business ever started with finer promise and more youthful enthusiasm than did the Wayside Press and the publication of Bradley: His Book, that are now just memories.
Among other magazine covers designed during this period there is one for a Christmas number of Century. It brings a request for a back-cover design. Both designs are in wood-cut style and require four printings—black and three flat colors. The DeVinne Press, familiar only with process colors, hesitates to do the printing. That issue carries a Will Bradley credit. When John Lane imports sheets of the Studio, edits an American supplement and publishes an American edition, I design the covers.
INTERLUDE IN NEW YORK
And now we are in the Gay Nineties, the mid Gay Nineties, when a hair-cloth sofa adorns every parlor and over-decoration is running riot; when our intelligentsia are reading Anthony Hope’s Prisoner of Zenda, Stanley Weyman’s Gentlemen of France and George McCutcheon’s Graustark; when William Morris is printing Chaucer, with illustrations by Burne-Jones, and Aubrey Beardsley is providing an ample excuse for the Yellow Book; when LeGallienne’s Golden Girl is brought over here by John Lane and established in a bookshop on lower Fifth Avenue, and Bliss Carman is singing his songs of rare beauty; when the Fifth Avenue Hotel and the nearby Algonquin are flourishing Madison Square hostelries; when Stern’s and McCreery are across the street from Putnam’s and Eden Musee, and the modern skyscraper is only an architect’s vague dream.