It is curious to reflect that Mark Twain still did not regard himself as a literary man. He had no literary plans for the future; he scarcely looked forward to the publication of another book. He considered himself a journalist; his ambition lay in the direction of retirement in some prosperous newspaper enterprise, with the comforts and companionship of a home. During his travels he had already been casting about for a congenial and substantial association in newspaperdom, and had at one time considered the purchase of an interest in the Cleveland Herald. But Buffalo was nearer Elmira, and when an opportunity offered, by which he could acquire a third interest in the Buffalo Express for $25,000, the purchase was decided upon. His lack of funds prompted a new plan for a lecture tour to the Pacific coast, this time with D. R. Locke (Nasby), then immensely popular, in his lecture “Cussed Be Canaan.”
Clemens had met Nasby on the circuit, and was very fond of him. The two had visited Boston together, and while there had called on Doctor Holmes; this by the way. Nasby was fond of Clemens too, but doubtful about the trip-doubtful about his lecture:
Your proposition takes my breath away. If I had my new lecture
completed I wouldn't hesitate a moment, but really isn't “Cussed Be
Canaan” too old? You know that lemon, our African brother, juicy as
he was in his day, has been squeezed dry. Why howl about his wrongs
after said wrongs have been redressed? Why screech about the
“damnable spirit of Cahst” when the victim thereof sits at the first
table, and his oppressor mildly takes, in hash, what he leaves? You
see, friend Twain, the Fifteenth Amendment busted “Cussed Be
Canaan.” I howled feelingly on the subject while it was a living
issue, for I felt all that I said and a great deal more; but now
that we have won our fight why dance frantically on the dead corpse
of our enemy? The Reliable Contraband is contraband no more, but a
citizen of the United States, and I speak of him no more.
Give me a week to think of your proposition. If I can jerk a
lecture in time I will go with you. The Lord knows I would like to.
—[Nasby's lecture, “Cussed Be Canaan,” opened, “We are all
descended from grandfathers!” He had a powerful voice, and always
just on the stroke of eight he rose and vigorously delivered this
sentence. Once, after lecturing an entire season—two hundred and
twenty-five nights—he went home to rest. That evening he sat,
musingly drowsing by the fire, when the clock struck eight. Without
a moment's thought Nasby sprang to his feet and thundered out, “We
are all descended from grandfathers!”]
Nasby did not go, and Clemens's enthusiasm cooled at the prospect of setting out alone on that long tour. Furthermore, Jervis Langdon promptly insisted on advancing the money required to complete the purchase of the Express, and the trade was closed.—[Mr. Langdon is just as good for $25,000 for me, and has already advanced half of it in cash. I wrote and asked whether I had better send him my note, or a due bill, or how he would prefer to have the indebtedness made of record, and he answered every other topic in the letter pleasantly, but never replied to that at all. Still, I shall give my note into a hands of his business agent here, and pay him the interest as it falls due.—S. L. C. to his mother.]
The Buffalo Express was at this time in the hands of three men—Col. George F. Selkirk, J. L. Lamed, and Thomas A. Kennett. Colonel Selkirk was business manager, Lamed was political editor. With the purchase of Kennett's share Clemens became a sort of general and contributing editor, with a more or less “roving commission”—his hours and duties not very clearly defined. It was believed by his associates, and by Clemens himself, that his known connection with the paper would give it prestige and circulation, as Nasby's connection had popularized the Toledo Blade. The new editor entered upon his duties August 14 (1869). The members of the Buffalo press gave him a dinner that evening, and after the manner of newspaper men the world over, were handsomely cordial to the “new enemy in their midst.”
There is an anecdote which relates that next morning, when Mark Twain arrived in the Express office (it was then at 14 Swan Street), there happened to be no one present who knew him. A young man rose very bruskly and asked if there was any one he would like to see. It is reported that he replied, with gentle deliberation:
“Well, yes, I should like to see some young man offer the new editor a chair.”
It is so like Mark Twain that we are inclined to accept it, though it seems of doubtful circumstance. In any case it deserves to be true. His “Salutatory” (August 18th) is sufficiently genuine:
Being a stranger, it would be immodest for me to suddenly and
violently assume the associate editorship of the Buffalo Express
without a single word of comfort or encouragement to the unoffending
patrons of the paper, who are about to be exposed to constant
attacks of my wisdom and learning. But the word shall be as brief
as possible. I only want to assure parties having a friendly
interest in the prosperity of the journal that I am not going to
hurt the paper deliberately and intentionally at any time. I am not
going to introduce any startling reforms, nor in any way attempt to
make trouble.... I shall not make use of slang and vulgarity upon
any occasion or under any circumstances, and shall never use
profanity except when discussing house rent and taxes. Indeed, upon
a second thought, I shall not use it even then, for it is
unchristian, inelegant, and degrading; though, to speak truly, I do
not see how house rent and taxes are going to be discussed worth a
cent without it. I shall not often meddle with politics, because we
have a political Editor who is already excellent and only needs to
serve a term or two in the penitentiary to be perfect. I shall not
write any poetry unless I conceive a spite against the subscribers.
Such is my platform. I do not see any use in it, but custom is law
and must be obeyed.
John Harrison Mills, who was connected with the Express in those days, has written:
I cannot remember that there was any delay in getting down to his
work. I think within five minutes the new editor had assumed the
easy look of one entirely at home, pencil in hand and a clutch of
paper before him, with an air of preoccupation, as of one intent on
a task delayed. It was impossible to be conscious of the man
sitting there, and not feel his identity with all that he had
enjoyed, and the reminiscence of it he that seemed to radiate; for
the personality was so absolutely in accord with all the record of
himself and his work. I cannot say he seemed to be that vague thing
they call a type in race or blood, though the word, if used in his
case for temperament, would decidedly mean what they used to call
the “sanguine.”
I thought that, pictorially, the noble costume of the Albanian would
have well become him. Or he might have been a Goth, and worn the
horned bull-pate helmet of Alaric's warriors; or stood at the prow
of one of the swift craft of the Vikings. His eyes, which have been
variously described, were, it seemed to me, of an indescribable
depth of the bluish moss-agate, with a capacity of pupil dilation
that in certain lights had the effect of a deep black....
Mr. Mills adds that in dress he was now “well groomed,” and that consequently they were obliged to revise their notions as to the careless negligee which gossip had reported.—[From unpublished Reminiscences kindly lent to the author by Mr. Mills]
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