El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1899-07-13
PRICE OF SUCCESS.

.'WeIl. old fellow. you ought to b
happy, said l.
"Why?' queried Holden laconically
'tWhy, indeed p exclaimed "Aftel
ten years of hard, patient toll you have
in the graceful language of the Gauls
arrived, or, in plain, colloquial Amer
lean, you have got there with botf
feet Your first production is big
success; royalties are rolling in; man
ayers whom once you pursued in vaiI
are now pursuing you, anxious to Sc
cure at your own terms the very play!
that they formerly refused without
reading. And 1 know you have plenty
of them. According to my calculations,
up to the time 1 went abroad two year:
ago, you must have at least a barrel
full of plays of all kinds COM
ical, Observation-Disclosures to suit all
tastes Consequently all you have to dc
is to dip down into that barrel, bring
up an old piece. place it and then sit
back and draw your royalties. Why,
my boy, you are retired and pensioned
at 35, with fame and money at COM
mand and life practically before you
y
''You forget the price of success. .
said Holden bitterly.
''Oh, of course, you have worked
hard for all you now enjoy, but that 8
all over now, and you have the satisfac-
ton Of knowing that it's paid for
Eyes" said Holden almost sadly,
''but you do not realize how dearly
have paid for it. %
hoH
apologetically. "You know was far
away while you were putting in your
last and probably your hardest ticks,
and did not hear from you until the
news of the phenomenal success of q
new American playwright was cabled
across the water. Why, you're interna-
tionally famous, my boy, and you ought
to be proud Oft
81 am,'' said Holden, ''but with my
pride is mingled pang of regret that
shall never outgrow, however may i'm
prove upon and make permanent, my
present good fortune. As some one has
said:
Success is not in flight elate;
We have to suffer just to gain
The misery of being great.
81 do not know who wrote those lines
but whoever he was he brought that
pearl of truth from the depths of bitter
experience maybe something like
mine.
''Ten me about it, old fellow" said
alphabetically, for saw that some
real sorrow underlay his words
'sWell, will, said Holden. cit is
subject I seldom refer to, for I hate
public condolences. But you are an old
friend who knew me when my light
was hidden under a bushel and are not
like those tickle, fattering moths who
hutter about the latest fame. The meta
phor is poor, for I am not a shining light
even now, but already 1 have had
enough of sycophancy, and-well, you
know what mean, old man.
''Whep you left the country, had
just about settled down to the dreary
routine life of an editor, whom some
journalistic wit has described as "a re-
porter with bis legs worn out had
despaired of ever getting my plays &C
cepted and could foresee nothing but an
endless round of grinding out cut and
dried opinions for other men until I
myself became as dry as they and was
kicked out to make room for fresher
material l had married, and of course
we lived up to my salary-what news
paper man does rot? Then the baby
came, and for time we lived even a
little beyond it. AS a consequence was
forced to put my nose even closer to the
grindstone and turn my spare hand to
hack work in order to help out.
81 didn't mind the hard work. The
only regret was that it led to nothing
ID oh
work. The human mind can do only
about as much as the body, and when
all its time is expended upon routine
there is no energy left for original
work. The fact that L gradually crawled
out of debt and even laid by a few dol
lars was small compensation for tbs
smashing of my dI cams and the realiza
ton that at such gait could never
succeed in the line most desired
''Wel, that was about the situation
was in when opportunity knocked at
my door. The seasons production of a
successful star proved a failure too COM
plete to be carpentered into even a
semisuccess- The play had been relied
upon to fill out the season, and he had
nothing definite in reserve. AS it hap
pened, I had outlined to him a plot
which impressed him, and he sent me
word that if l would submit the COM
pleted play as soon as possible he would
consider it. It was the vaguest POSSIBLE
ity that he might accept it if nothing
better offered. yet felt that it was my
first and in all probability my last
chance.
81 could not possibly write the play
in time and still retain my editorial