CHAPTER XXII
A MILLIONAIRE AND AN AUTHOR
The thesis of this book is that our newspapers do not
represent public interests, but private interests; they do not
represent humanity, but property; they value a man, not because
he is great, or good, or wise, or useful, but because he
is wealthy, or of service to vested wealth. And suppose that
you wished to make a test of this thesis, a test of the most
rigid scientific character—what would you do? You would
put up two men, one representing property, the other representing
humanity. You would endeavor rigidly to exclude all
other factors; you would find one man who represented
property to the exclusion of humanity, and you would find
another man who represented humanity to the exclusion of
property. You would put these two men before the public,
having them do the same thing, so far as humanly possible,
and then you would keep a record of the newspaper results.
These results would give you mathematically, in column-inches,
the relative importance to each newspaper of the man of
property and the man of humanity. Such an exact, scientific
test I have now to record.
I introduce the two persons. First, the man of humanity: At the time the test was made, in December, 1913, he was thirty-five years of age; he was known everywhere throughout the United States, and was, with the possible exception of Jack London, the most widely known of living American writers throughout the world. At the time of the test he did not own more than a couple of hundred dollars.
Second, the man of property. He was at this time twenty-two years of age, and had done four things which had been widely heralded: First, he was born. Second, he decided to conduct some experiments in farming. Third, he decided to marry a young lady of his acquaintance. Fourth, he inherited sixty-five million dollars. Three of these things are not at all unusual; many a farmer's boy has done them, and has not had the distinction of seeing the newspapers devote columns of space to them. But the other thing is
