The Fourth Estate

When he landed at Heathrow the following morning, the cabbie didn’t feel it was his place to ask why his fare was dressed in a tracksuit and carrying a squash racket. Perhaps all the courts in New York were booked.

He arrived at his London office forty minutes later, and took over the operation from Ned Brewer. By ten o’clock every available employee had been sent to all corners of the capital. By lunchtime no one within a twenty-mile radius of Hyde Park Corner could find a copy of the Globe at any price. By nine that evening Townsend was in possession of 126,212 copies of the paper.

Armstrong arrived back at Heathrow on the Saturday afternoon, having spent most of the morning in Paris barking out orders to his staff all over Britain. By nine o’clock on Sunday morning, thanks to a remarkable trawl from the West Riding area, he was in possession of 79,107 copies of the Globe.

He spent the Sunday ringing the editors of all his regional papers and ordering them to write front-page stories for the following morning’s editions, urging their readers to dig out Saturday’s Globe and vote Armstrong. On Monday morning he talked himself on to the Today program and as many news slots as possible. But each of the producers decided it was only fair that Townsend should be allowed the right of reply the following day.

By Thursday, Townsend’s staff were exhausted from signing names; Armstrong’s sick from licking envelopes. By Friday afternoon both men were phoning the Globe every few minutes, trying to find out how the count was going. But as Sir Walter had called in the Electoral Reform Society to count the votes, and they were more interested in accuracy than speed, even the editor wasn’t told the result until just before midnight.

“The Dodgy Dingo Beats the Bouncing Czech” ran the banner headline in the first editions of Saturday’s paper. The article that followed informed the Globe’s readers that the voting had been 232,712 in favor of the Colonial, to 229,847 for the Immigrant.

Townsend’s lawyer arrived at the Globe’s offices at nine o’clock on Monday morning, bearing a draft for $20 million. However much Armstrong protested, and however many writs he threatened to issue, he could not stop Sir Walter from signing his shares over to Townsend that afternoon.

At the first meeting of the new board, Townsend proposed that Sir Walter should remain as chairman, on his present salary of £100,000 a year. The old man smiled and made a flattering speech about how the readers had unquestionably made the right choice.

Townsend didn’t speak again until they reached Any Other Business, when he suggested that all employees of the Globe should automatically retire at the age of sixty, in line with the rest of his group’s policy. Sir Walter seconded the motion, as he was keen to join his chums at the Turf Club for a celebratory lunch. The motion went through on the nod.

It wasn’t until Sir Walter climbed into bed that night that his wife explained to him the significance of that final resolution.

FIFTH EDITION

The Citizen v the Globe

28.

The Citizen

15 April 1968

MINISTER RESIGNS

“One hundred thousand copies of The Senator’s Mistress have been printed and are stacked in the warehouse in New Jersey, awaiting Mrs. Sherwood’s inspection,” said Kate, looking up at the ceiling.

“That’s a good start,” said Townsend. “But they’re not going to return a penny of my money until they see them in the shops.”

“Once her lawyer has verified the numbers and the invoiced orders, he’ll have no choice but to return the first million dollars. We will have fulfilled that part of the contract within the stipulated twelve-month period.”

“And how much has this little exercise cost me so far?”

“If you include printing and transport, around $30,000,” replied Kate. “Everything else was done in-house, or can be set against tax.”

“Clever girl. But what chance do I have of getting my second million back? For all the time you’ve spent rewriting the damn book, I still can’t see it making the bestseller lists.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Kate. “Everybody knows that only eleven hundred shops report their sales to the New York Times each week. If I could get a sight of that list of booksellers, I’d have a real chance of making sure you get your second million back.”

“But knowing which shops report doesn’t make customers buy books.”

“No, but I think we could nudge them in the right direction.”

“And how do you propose doing that?”

“First by launching the book in a slow month—say, January or February—and then by only selling in to those outlets that report to the New York Times.”

“But that won’t make people buy them.”

“It will if we only charge the bookshop fifty cents a copy, with a cover price of $3.50, so the bookseller shows a 700 percent mark-up on every copy sold, instead of the usual one hundred.”

“But that still won’t help if the book is unreadable.”