The Uncrowned King: The Sensational Rise of William Randolph Hearst (2 page)

BOOK: The Uncrowned King: The Sensational Rise of William Randolph Hearst
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The new yacht’s name was as singular as its design. The Victorian fashion in nomenclature ran to literary references, English or European history, and, as always, names of sweethearts. Pulitzer had christened his first yacht
Romola,
after the George Eliot novel. Bennett Jr. succumbed to both the literary and the classical for his
Lysistrata.
Hearst fell back on spirited American vernacular:
Vamoose.
 
The
Vamoose
was to be shipped to Hearst in California via the Isthmus of Panama on a specially designed crib extending over three cars of the Panama Railway Company. It was an extraordinary operation, requiring, among other measures, the partial dismantling of three bridges along the track. All logistical obstacles were overcome and the payload appeared to be on its way when word came that a Colonel Rives, president of the railway company, was refusing Hearst’s freight. It seems that the literary critics at Hearst’s
San Francisco Examiner
had been unkind to an otherwise popular new novel,
The Quick or the Dead,
written by Amélie Rives, whose father ran the railroad in Panama.
 
The
Vamoose
was pointed back east and berthed in New York, where Hearst, on his increasingly frequent visits, raced it against all comers and loaned it to local yacht clubs for use as a viewing boat during regattas. It was indeed the fastest thing on water, clocking in at twenty-seven knots. Other yacht owners pretended to higher speeds, but in September 1891 the American Yacht Club hosted a much-publicized race with a five-hundred-dollar prize, the course a straightaway of ninety miles. When the
Vamoose
arrived at the starting line, all competition stood down.
 
At the time that he took delivery of
Vamoose,
Hearst was known to be shopping for a newspaper in New York. His impending arrival on the scene caused little comment. His type—the man of wealth and regional influence—routinely arrived in the big city and just as routinely flamed out. But for all the magnificent and flamboyant talents then washing around the higher reaches of New York publishing, none owned a yacht like the
Vamoose.
None kept for a pleasure craft what was essentially a torpedo boat, minus the ordnance. At least one local columnist had an inkling of its significance. After watching a regatta from the deck of the
Vamoose,
he wrote, “The Hearsts are odd people in many ways, and they are admirable in many ways. They have not been accustomed to do things by halves.”
4
 
CHAPTER ONE
 
When He Wants Cake, He Wants Cake
 
There was only one place where one might live in a different way, more keenly and vigorously than anywhere else in America, and that was New York. It was the great city—the only cosmopolitan city—a wonder-world in itself. . . . All really ambitious people, people who were destined to do or be anything in any line, eventually drifted there—editors, newspaper men, actors, playwrights, songwriters, musicians, money-makers—the town was full of them, and the best of it was the best ones succeeded there. You couldn’t keep the able down in New York.

THEODORE DREISER,
Newspaper Days
1
 
 
 
 
I
t is difficult to say precisely when William Randolph Hearst first hit on the idea of breaking into New York publishing, but it is clear that by 1889 he would not be satisfied until he did. He was twenty-six years old and already a minor newspaper phenomenon. Three years earlier he had been handed the
San Francisco Examiner
by his father, who had owned it for six years, accomplishing little beyond a string of annual losses. With no more than a few months of professional journalistic experience, the younger Hearst announced himself as proprietor and editor and promptly established the
Examiner
as the most attractive, intelligent, and exuberant daily on the Pacific coast. Its circulation more than doubled. Its losses evaporated. It rivaled the mighty
San Francisco Chronicle
as the leading newspaper in the West. The trade journals credited Hearst with a “masterstroke of enterprise.”
2
It seems everyone who knew the
Examiner
was impressed by it, save Hearst, who was keenly aware that whatever he had accomplished in San Francisco, he had not done anything in New York.
 
His expansion plans were in fact larger than one city. Hearst envisioned a chain of newspapers, the individual titles of which would share content, management, and other resources, reducing costs and magnifying the proprietor’s voice and influence. But a chain was unthinkable without New York. It was the liveliest and most competitive newspaper city in the world, and the center of media and commercial influence in the United States. New York was a goal in itself.
 
Out of the blue, on Thanksgiving Day 1889, Charles M. Palmer, an experienced midwestern newspaper executive specializing in circulation, received a telegram from Hearst inviting him to join the
Examiner
and asking what salary he would expect. Palmer signed on, excited at the comprehensiveness of Hearst’s expansion plans and the prospect of an imminent break into the New York market. He was also impressed by Hearst’s manner, a curious mixture of deference and self-assurance. George Pancoast, Hearst’s private secretary and frequent companion, also learned of the New York initiative around this time.
3
As they were crossing San Francisco Bay on a ferry, Hearst took from his pocket a railway timetable and drew circles around the names of several large cities, saying, “George, some day a paper there, and there, and there.” New York he circled twice.
 
Hearst’s plans were made public that autumn when the
New York Press
revealed that he had been “trying to induce his father to set him up in business here, either by buying some old paper or establishing a new one.” A staggeringly wealthy senator from California, the Honorable George Hearst had cheerfully spent his best years in frontier mining camps and scrappy western towns, exercising an uncanny ability to charm metal out of rock. Before taking up politics, he had been instrumental in the development of four of the richest mines yet discovered in America: Nevada’s Comstock Lode, Utah’s Ontario Mine, Montana’s Anaconda, and South Dakota’s Homestake. The
Press
guessed George Hearst was worth $20 million. It reported that the senator had been in upstate New York over the summer to watch his thoroughbreds run, and that he had this to say about his son’s New York newspaper ambitions: “There’s plenty of money if the boy really has his heart set on it. But I am in hopes he will conclude after a while that one big paper is enough for one man to run.”
4
 
It’s unlikely that Will Hearst viewed his father’s caution as a serious obstacle. The old man was a soft touch. Will also had himself to blame for his father’s “one big paper is enough” reservation. He had been complaining incessantly to the senator about his competitive difficulties in San Francisco. He had started a newspaper war with the
Chronicle
and, to his surprise and consternation, its owner, Michael de Young, was fighting back. De Young had announced a series of new investments in his paper, including the construction of an impressive new headquarters and Will had pleaded for more paternal support to keep pace. “I am working awfully hard and getting a little bit tired and a little bit discouraged,” he wrote his father. “That damned
Chronicle
building is a tremendous advertisement and helps them immensely. Everybody talks about it and everybody thinks it is pretty fine and there is great difficulty getting subscribers away from a paper that is doing a big thing like that. The effect upon the advertiser is even worse. Mr. De Young told a friend the other day that since he had started his building his income [from the paper] had almost doubled. . . . How long do you suppose it will be before we can put up a building—a stunner that will knock his endways and make him as sick as he is now making me[?]”
5
 
George Hearst’s hesitancy about his son’s New York plans may also have been lip service to Phoebe Apperson Hearst. The senator was constantly reminded by his wife that he had lost hundreds of thousands on the
Examiner
before it had begun to pay, and that was on top of the hundreds of thousands he was throwing away on his ponies.
6
Though one of the richest families in America, and a small one at that, the three Hearsts were diversely ambitious and variously extravagant; there was not enough money to go around. At the start of 1890, they were spending at a pace of almost $1 million annualized.
7
Phoebe was generally the voice of restraint, seeking to rein in her men not out of prudence so much as out of concern for her own spending and philanthropic priorities. Sometimes the men listened to her; more often, as in this instance, not.
 
The senator’s misgivings appear to have lasted no longer than it took the
Press
to get them in print. He was soon reported to have made unsuccessful bids for the
New York Times
and the New York
Sun,
as well as a $5-million play for the mighty
New York Herald.
8
The accuracy of these reports is uncertain, but any discussions toward the purchase of a New York title would have made Will’s dream seem tantalizingly close. And just then everything changed.
 
Late in 1890, Senator Hearst was diagnosed with “a complication of diseases” rooted in “a serious derangement of the bowel”—in a word, cancer. He received first-rate medical attention and fought bravely against the illness, but it advanced quickly. Around seven o’clock on the evening of February 28, 1891, he slipped into a coma. Phoebe was called from dinner and was joined at his bedside in their Washington mansion by Will, a family friend, and the household staff. All were present when George died at 9:10 p.m, with Phoebe holding his hand. “So quickly and easily did he pass away,” said one report, “that Mrs. Hearst did not know he was dead until so informed by Dr. Ward.”
9
 
 
 
GEORGE HEARST WAS REMEMBERED fondly as a tall, rumpled man with a great beard, a constant smile, and kindly, genial ways. Eulogies played up the incongruity of his humble origins and lack of formal education, and his spectacular rise to riches and high political office. There was much amusement at his love of horses, card games, and drink. It was said that “only such an amount of culture had attached to him as would necessarily be forced upon a man whose household was presided over by a model wife, who was a society leader having practically limitless wealth at her command.”
10
That characterization of George Hearst has persisted over the years, with much of the warmth wrung from it. He is portrayed in his son’s most recent biography as an “uncouth, loud, and semi-literate” hick who drank too much, neglected his family, and bought his way into the Senate. The recent HBO drama
Deadwood
presents him as a sociopathic tycoon who murders his way to riches.
11
 
Senator Hearst was indeed a child of the Missouri frontier, but he hardly grew up wild. The family was patrician by local standards. George Hearst’s father was a man of means, the largest slave owner in Meramec Township, and a force in local politics. His mother had some education and was known for her cashmere shawls and leghorn bonnets. George did not spend a lot of his childhood in the classroom, mostly because there was no schoolhouse nearby, but he had a good head and he eventually completed enough of grade school to graduate from the Franklin County Mining School in 1838. He was expected to study for the bar, but then his father passed away, leaving debts that George took upon himself to clear. Sufficiently literate to teach himself geology and mineralogy from borrowed texts, George earned his first financial stake by applying the efficient lead-mining practices he learned from books to mining properties considered worthless by experienced Missouri operators.
 
George Hearst took his knowledge west, made and lost several fortunes, and gained an international reputation as a mining analyst. He also became expert in the bewilderingly complex legal dimensions of his trade (the protection of a single claim could require litigation of twenty or thirty separate suits). His colleagues marveled at his shrewdness and cool judgment, which seemed only to improve in times of uncertainty or crisis. They also valued his personal qualities: he was cheerful, open, unaffected, honest, sensible, independent of mind, and innately dignified. He was a beloved figure in the mining belt. Colleagues sought his advice on personal as well as commercial matters. He dispensed his counsel in “wise, original and homely thoughts and phrases,” flavored with the musical drawl of his native Missouri.
12
His personal magnetism kept him in some of the best company available in the western states. His business partners included California attorney general and U.S. senator William Morris Stewart, U.S. senator James Graham Fair, and Nevada City mayor Hamlet Davis. Among his friends were U.S. Supreme Court justice Stephen J. Field, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of California Niles Searls, and Ninth Circuit judge Lorenzo Sawyer. Mark Twain was a drinking buddy, a business associate, and an admirer of George’s self-reliance and political judgment.

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