Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1899-02-14
PRICE OF SUCCESS.

- "SAAi Jaw SAAC"I w" ou6ho W. pC
happy" said I.
"Why?" queried Holden laconically.
"Why, indeed?" exclaimed l. "After
ten years of hard, patient toll you have,
in the graceful language of the Gauls,
ARRIVED, OF, in plain, %colloquial Amer
lean, you have got there with both
feet. Your first production is a big
success; royalties are rolling in; man
ayers whom once you pursued in vain
are now pursuing You, anxious to Sc
cure at your own terms the very plays
that they formerly refused without
reading. And l know you have plenty
of them. According to my calculations,
up to the time I went abroad two years
ago, you must have at least a barrel
full of plays Of all kinds-poetical, COM
ical, Observation-Disclosures to suit all
tastes. Consequently all you have to do
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.
Why should you not be happy9"
"You forget the price Of success"
said Holden bitterly.
"Oh, of course, you have worked
hard for all you now enjoy, but that's
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 I
have paid for it"
"Well, possibly not" said l half
apologetically. "You know l 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 a
new American playwright was cabled
across the water. Why, you're interna-
t~ionally famous, my boy, and you ought
to be proud of it,"
81 am, said Holden, ''but with my
pride is mingled a pang Of regret that I
shall never outgrow, however I may i'm
prove upon and make permanent, my
PlCbCAu sOOu " GuAc. as bOllt Ollt Has
said:
advancement limps on steps Of pain;
Success is not in flight elate;
We have to suffer just to gain
The misery of being great.
II lido 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"
"Tell me about it, old fellow" said
I alphabetically, for l saw that some
real sorrow underlay his words.
"Well, I will" said Holden. ''It is a
subject I seldom refer to, for l 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
futter about the latest flame. The meta
phor is poor, for l am not a shining light
even now, but already I have had
enough Of sycophancy, and-well, you
know what I mean, old man.
"When you left the country, l had
just about settled down to the dreary
routine life of an editor, whom some
journalistic wit has described as "a re-
porter with his legs worn out I had
despaired of ever getting my plays ac-
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 not? Then the baby
came, and for a time we lived even a
little beyond it. As a consequence I was
forced to put my nose even closer to the
grindstone and turn my spare hand to
hack work in order to help out.
II didn't mind the hard work. The
only regret was that it led to nothing
and kept me away from my chosen
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 the
smashing Of my dreams and the ~realiza-
ton that at such a gait I could never
succeed In the line I most desired.
"Well, that was about the situation
I 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
s~emisuccess. The play had been relied
upon to fill out the season, and he had
nothing definite in reserve. As it hap
pened, l had outlined to him q plot
which impressed him, and he sent me-
word that If I would submit the com |
pleted play as o o as possible he would
consider 1t. It was the vaguest POSSIBLE
ity that he might accept it If nothing
better offered, yet I felt that it was my
first and In all probability my last
II could not possibly write the play
time and still retain my editorial :