The Making of a Magazine: A Tour Through the Vast Organization of the New Yorker

Introduction

Some Statistics

Funny Little Things

BEFORE we attempt to show the

Reader the vast process that lies behind the making of a great magazine like The New Yorker, it is no doubt wise to give him first a bird's-eye view of the tremendous circulation which so vitally depends upon each weekly issue (for if it were not for these weekly issues, there would simply be no circulation of The New Yorker). It is our hope here to open his eyes to the stupendous organization of which he forms a part, ere we acquaint him with the more detailed aspects of that organization and the size and scope of its equipment.

Let us suppose for the nonce that

each issue of The New Yorker is a red

corpuscle and all the readers are fingers, toes, etc., on the great body politic. This means that Uncle Sam has 8,657,000 fingers and toes, and every week these extremities must receive their red corpuscles regardless of wind nor rain nor storm on their appointed rounds. Have you any conception of the size of that heart which must pump so vast a circulation of red corpuscles through all (a) the veins and (b) arteries extending up and down the great body of Uncle Sam until they reach you, the fingers and toes ? What is this heart that so faithfully beats for us each week, pumping us our weekly subscription?

Here it is Friday; and at a rough

estimate there have been probably thirty

or eighty millions of people who have

bought The New Yorker since last

night; and the returns from Maine are

not due till to-morrow. This means

that if you add all these figures together and multiply them by the number you just thought of, then the card there in your hand is the eight of clubs. Perhaps the following illustration may serve to bring home to the average mind the magnitude of these figures: First, conceive in your mind's eye the entire populations of New York, New Haven, Hartford and a fourth city about the size of Pittsburgh (let us say, Pittsburgh), and picture them arranged kneeling side by side single file in a long line, all blind-folded, and holding in their hands the combined output of the New York Times, the Saturday Evening Post, and Dr. Frank Crane. Now suppose that someone were to sneak up and give the first man in line a sudden shove. Why, over they all would go like so many nine-pins, and wouldn't it be fun though?

Perhaps it will make

our point clearer if we

borrow a few statistics; and for our purpose let us borrow the

statistics belonging to

the Willimantic

(Conn.) Iron Pipes

and Gadgets Company. According to these statistics, there was an increase of 10,000 over 20,000 the year before (or £&:£o8» and cancel the noughts= 1 /^=50%= increase for 1925, An*.). On the other hand the Stickum Rubber Company in the same city was forced to shut down its factories a week during the hot spell, at a loss $3,650.

The Leaning Tower of Pisa

B — The New Yorker

C—Our Mr. Tilley

Returning these statistics again to the

Willimantic Iron Pipes and Gadgets

Company, with many thanks, we shall

now take up the production of wool in

Mesopotamia in January.

We shall now abandon the production of wool in Mesopotamia in January (which didn't turn out to be so very interesting after all; and no one more surprised than we were, either) and from the foregoing statistics we may draw our own conclusions. There is no need at this time of going more fully into the conclusions that were drawn, but suffice it to say that the winning conclusion was drawn by Miss Etheline Lint, stenographer, of 31 Archer Street, Mott Haven, who held number eighty-seven.

Now that this little glimpse into Statistics Land has given you some idea of

the vast circulation of The New

Yorker, let us start on our tittle tour

through the great organization behind

that circulation, making stops at Tennessee and other points of interest along

the way, and observing as we go the

industry, the cleanliness and system of

this paper. For this trip we should

advise a complete change of clothing, two blankets, and comfortable footwear, since there is nothing so important on a journey as easy feet except (ah yes) — The New Yorker.