Douglas and the Contributors’ Club

by Ronald R Johnson (www.ronaldrjohnson.com)

In my last post, I told you that Lloyd Douglas wrote anonymously for the Atlantic Monthly as part of the Contributors’ Club. Here’s a summary of each of the essays he published.

An Interrupted Homily (November 1917)

His youngest daughter, Virginia, shows him a shoebox containing “trained ants.” Douglas listens carefully but can’t quite understand the difference between “trained” and “untrained” ants. After she leaves, he wonders (by analogy) what practical difference there is between Christians and non-Christians if the United States and Britain truly are “Christian nations.”

International Pitch (November 1918)

Douglas tells about a conversation he had with a musicologist. “C is always C, no matter what else may change in the world,” the scholar tells him. And this leads Douglas to think about how greatly the world is changing as WWI comes to an end.

By-Products of Higher Education (June 1919)

Douglas describes an eccentric older woman from Ann Arbor who has a habit of popping in on lectures at the University of Michigan and asking the young professors challenging questions.

Accidental Salvation (September 1919)

An angry man who mistreats his wife and kids is walking around the house in his bare feet when he steps on a needle. Pulling it out of his foot, he discovers that the tip of it is missing and assumes it’s traveling in his bloodstream and will cause his death at any moment. The following morning, surprised to have survived the night, he begins putting his affairs in order and, among other things, becomes a good husband and father. His wife never tells him she found the tip of the needle in the carpet the next day. (Years later, Douglas would rewrite this as a Christmas story called Precious Jeopardy.)

Barrel Day (May 1924)

Beginning with a local (Akron, Ohio) custom of libraries putting barrels outside for people to return their overdue books no-questions-asked, Douglas daydreams about starting a new “Barrel Day” custom in which people return things they’ve borrowed from each other and have kept so long that they’d be ashamed to admit it now.

As you can see from the example above, the Contributors’ Club just ran these essays one after the other without by-lines. We know that Douglas wrote these five essays because his scrapbooks contain not only the copies of them but also the acceptance letters from the editor, Ellery Sedgwick.

And there’s another piece of evidence. In the 1980s a couple of researchers actually went through all the magazine’s check stubs to see who received payment for these anonymous contributions. They gave Douglas credit for all five of the essays he included in his scrapbooks. (Philip B Eppard and George Monteiro, A Guide to the Atlantic Monthly Contributors’ Club (Boston: G. K. Hall & Co., 1983).)

But even though he didn’t get to see his name in the Atlantic, Douglas was proud to be part of the Contributors’ Club (I found it in at least one of his bios); and rightly so. It made him part of an elite group, and he received helpful feedback in his writing. He didn’t always accept the advice he was given, but it was still good for him to hear it. On “Accidental Salvation,” Sedgwick thought the last sentence was weak. He suggested that Douglas replace it with something more “snappy.” Douglas did change the last sentence, but not to the editor’s liking. Sedgwick went ahead and published it, but he told Douglas he thought it could’ve been better. Take it from me: when you get a comment like that from an editor, it sticks with you! And you think about it the next time you write something similar. Knowing Douglas’s sensitivity to his audiences, I’m quite sure he took Sedgwick’s criticism to heart, and it made him much more aware of concluding each of his stories and essays in a way that would be emotionally satisfying to his readers.

But there was another periodical that played a more important role in Douglas’s life. I’ll tell you about that in the next post.

For a free PDF copy of the booklet, The Secret Investment of Lloyd C. Douglas, fill out the form below:

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Anonymous at the Atlantic

by Ronald R Johnson (www.ronaldrjohnson.com)

In 1857, just before the Civil War, an all-star cast of New England’s most respected writers worked together to launch a new publishing venture: a literary magazine called the Atlantic Monthly. All of these men were highly respected on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean (hence the title of the magazine), and all of them had three names. Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Oliver Wendell Holmes, and James Russell Lowell were the most famous members of this group. They wanted to provide intelligent, cultured reading material for the rising professional class. They got other well-known authors to write for them: for example, Samuel Clemens (known popularly as “Mark Twain”). To spice things up, they wrote anonymously, giving readers the fun of trying to guess the author (M. A. DeWolfe Howe, The Atlantic Monthly and Its Makers (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1919).

Over time, the Atlantic began giving bylines to the regular articles but, just for fun, they kept one section of each issue anonymous. Authors could rant and clear the air and make controversial statements in this section without ruining their reputations. They called it the Contributors’ Club, and it soon became the most talked-about section of the magazine. Over the years, it was not only a forum for the already-famous (Mark Twain, Sarah Orne Jewett, Dorothy Canfield Fisher, D. H. Lawrence, Vladimir Nabokov) but was also a good place for aspiring writers to break into the business. As one reader noted years later, the Contributors’ Club was “the nearest thing to a Welcome mat ever thrown across the pathway of aspiring writers” (Irene Bertschy of Rhame, North Dakota, quoted in Philip B Eppard and George Monteiro, A Guide to the Atlantic Monthly Contributors’ Club (Boston: G. K. Hall & Co., 1983), p. xix).

This was especially true during the editorship of Ellery Sedgwick. By the early 20th century, the Atlantic had become the most respected American magazine that nobody subscribed to. Muckrakers’ journals like McClure’s and Collier’s were the big-name magazines now. The Atlantic still stood for quality, but it just wasn’t popular… until Sedgwick, a young hotshot editor, bought the magazine in 1908 and turned it around. He didn’t have a lot of money in the beginning, so he solicited aspiring writers, giving them a chance to get started in the Contributors’ Club. He had a good eye for talent, and he made helpful suggestions to his writers – those who were lucky enough to work with him.

Ellery Sedgwick from https://photogravure.com/collection/xxxi-ellery-sedgwick-editor-the-atlantic-monthly/

Of course, the Contributors’ Club was anonymous, but that was the beauty of it: it gave unknown writers a chance to show what they could do. Ever heard of Ralph Bergengren… or Elizabeth Woodbridge Morris… or F. Lyman Windolph? They were just a few of the anonymous members of the Club in 1917.

How about Lloyd C. Douglas? He joined the Club that same year.

Actually, he had aimed higher. A letter from “The Editor” dated a year earlier (October 26, 1916) seems to indicate that Douglas had sent a full article for publication. “This is racy and interesting,” Sedgwick told him, “and yet it really belongs in the Contributors’ Club.” Having Ellery Sedgwick speak so highly of the piece must have been encouraging, but having the essay demoted to anonymous status in the Contributors’ Club was probably not good news. And Sedgwick also wanted Douglas to do some heavy editing. “Is it too dampening a suggestion to say that, if there were some means of syncopating the piece so that it would be not more than 1600 words, we might use it there [in the Contributors’ Club]? You see, the first editor of the Atlantic has passed down to his successors the tradition that the first rule of the Club is to have no one take up too large a share of the talk, and even when the discourse is so interesting and sprightly as this, it ought not to be quite so long.” But he left it up to Douglas to figure out how to trim it. “Is there not a page or two which might come out of the paper toward its center? Of this, you are a better judge than we.”

There is no record of Douglas’s reaction to this letter. We don’t know what the piece was, so there’s no way of telling if he ever resubmitted it. But he didn’t give up; over the next eight years, he contributed five essays to the Club and was proud to call himself a Club member. I’ll talk about those contributions in my next post.

Douglas’s article “An Interrupted Homily” appeared in the Contributor’s Club of the November 1917 issue of the Atlantic.

For a free PDF copy of the booklet, The Secret Investment of Lloyd C. Douglas, fill out the form below:

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