For members of the staff of the New York Herald Tribune, small, determined Mrs. Helen Rogers Reid is a figure fully as imposing, fully as authoritative as her bald, easy-going husband Ogden. Publisher Ogden Reid owns most of the Herald Tribune’s stock but it is Mrs. Reid, in her office just above the city room, who runs the advertising staff, fires it with pep talks every Monday morning.
Fortnight ago the advertising conference room filled up, as usual, with Herald Tribune solicitors whose problem, as usual, was to convince space buyers that they would do better to advertise in a morning paper like the Herald Tribune than in an evening paper like the Sun or World-Telegram. Suddenly Porter Carruthers jumped to announce that the staff would now try something new in attacking this old problem. Two porters wheeled in a piano. Composer Fred Fisher (“Dardanella,” “Chicago,” “Chasing Rainbows,” “Peg o’ My Heart,” “There’s a Broken Heart for Every Light on Broadway”), took his place at the keyboard. Lyricist Stella Unger vocalized the latest Fisher-Unger work, especially commissioned by the Herald Tribune. Soon that paper’s linotypers, compositors and rewrite men on the outside were astounded to hear issuing from the conference room the massed voices of the advertising staff loudly and almost gayly singing the following song:
The happiest time jor all people, they say,
Is always the start of a brand new day.
The end of the day may be pleasant, it’s trite.
Still our minds are fatigued and we’re glad the day is through.
But morning finds millions of minds fresh and clear,
As bright as the sun in the sky, my dear.
Tell ’em in the morning if you want them in at night.
Let ’em see that morning paper, then you just sit tight.
You’ll find while Mary does the cookin’ she knows what she’s lookin’ for—
She’s looking for a bargain and it’s right there in your store.
While she’s sweepin’ up she’s peepin’ thro’ some fashion page. . . .
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