Some Evolutionary Economic History of the Oxford University Press 1890-1970:
Oxford in America
Daniel Raff
The Wharton School and NBER
Version of 101510
Introduction
The official subject matter of this chapter is the history of the Press’s operations in New
York, the base for the Press’s activities in the United States, from 1896 through 1970, the year of
publication of the Waldock Report. The chapter’s coverage in fact begins in the 1870s with
some necessary scene-setting. The narrative will continue on from 1970 in a parallel chapter to
appear in Volume IV. That will take events up to 2004, at which point this History will end.
The New York Branch (later Business) was the first of the Press’s overseas branches. It
became in due course a significant source of sales and profits and thereby economically
important to its owner. It was a highly visible actor in a vibrant industry. It was not merely
active but influential in variety of more specialized niches: on a number of occasions it made
changes to its product offerings sufficiently significant to alter overall competitive conditions.
OUP-NY grew to be a large employer. It was a simple organization in the very beginning; but
well before the end of this Volume’s period, it had become complex. It represents a subject of
some weight and complexity.
One might approach writing the history of such an enterprise in a variety of ways. The
simplest would be, like many other publishing house histories, to focus on the output, which is to
say the books. These there have been in plentitude, many noteworthy to the general American
reading public as well as to specialists. A variant, equally common among house histories,
would be to focus on the colorful executives who ran it. The collection of individuals who ran
the business during this Volume’s period does not lack for color. But neither of these approaches
would come close to plumbing what the New York history meant for the Press as a whole.
A slightly deeper perspective would involve regarding the New York branch as part (the
details, of course, developing over time) of a vertically integrated manufacturing company. This
puts activities, rather than the products per se or managerial characters, at the center of attention
and may seem more direct and natural. That is the approach taken here. But taking it is not an
entirely simple decision. The choice immediately raises the question of what the sources of such
a history could, and should, be. A moment’s reflection on the answer to this raises interesting
further questions.
The available sources for this particular are relatively rich. They include not just
catalogues and advertisements but articles in the trade press, legal documents and judgments, and
ledgers, accounts, and other relatively external (or at any rate ex post) records of levels of
activities and the net results. They also include memoranda, reports, and correspondence
between the head of New York on the one hand and the Press’s Publisher in London (until 1950
2
the New York executive’s immediate hierarchical superior) and the Secretary to the Delegates
(the immediate superior from 1950 and throughout the senior-most officer) in Oxford on the
other. There are minutes of meetings, some in New York, some of relevant deliberations of the
Finance Committee in Walton Street, and some of the Delegates themselves. It might seem that
not just the outcomes but the thoughts and logic behind them would be immediately accessible.
Some of these materials are indeed directly illuminating in that way. For the bulk of
them, however, the view is naïve. The North American continent is vast and, particularly at the
beginning of the period, inexpensive communication across long distances was slow. The same
was true of communication between London or Oxford and New York. Even half-way through
this Volume’s period, we read letter-writers worrying about finishing a note in time to catch a
particular sailing, worrying the while about how long the ship will in fact take, and others
remarking, with an air of “They do have a point”, that a convention of charging New York’s
accounts for incoming as well as outgoing cables seemed to strike the New Yorkers as unfair. It
is very clear that trans-Atlantic telephone time was precious and used only when absolutely
necessary. The New York office was in important respects remote and always operated with at
least some autonomy; but UK superiors were certainly concerned throughout to make sure that
this autonomy was not abused to the cost or discredit of the larger organization or the University.
There is, thus, considerable discussion of rights and constraints (and, at least implicitly, of
incentives). But there is also meticulously elaborated documentation of formalities. There is, for
example, painstakingly detailed correspondence and discussion of matters of legal status (down
to extended correspondences across the ocean concerning just who needs to sign what, and
when) and, in effect, accounting conventions. There is in some sources far more meticulous
documentation of who attended than of the arguments pro and con before the vote. The
significance of operating and even investment decisions which might have large impacts on
future prospects come into focus only sporadically. It is important, amidst the wealth of
documentation that has survived, to keep track of the weight, rather than the bulk, of the
evidence—to focus, so to speak, on decision-making and actions rather than on mere
administrative transactions.
I commented on two perspectives such a history might adopt above. The observations of
the last paragraph bring up the third on which I want to comment. When thinking of executives,
one might well wonder who made it a powerhouse. (More than one bibliophilic and obituaryreading friend has, during the drafting of this text, inquired.) One might well wonder, more
explicitly, which executive actions were decisive in establishing the branch’s fortunes as they
have come to be. Retrospects are apparently the second easiest approach, trailing only
chronologies of the books themselves. They are to be taken with equally great caution.
The problem with retrospective history is that the attributes of an entity which allowed it
to survive some period of scarcity and challenge may not seem its most salient in some
subsequent and perhaps less demanding—or at least differently demanding--environment.
Current priorities and successes might well have been disasterous in the earlier setting, leading, if
implemented, to no future history at all. Understanding how the present entity came to be is a
matter of understanding its past as that actually happened, not projecting back onto previous
periods some current presentation or preoccupations. The past is what it was, not some “Coming
Attractions” trailer for the future (as that was then or may seem from any particular moment’s
vantage point).
3
This chapter is therefore not just focused on activities. It is also an exercise in Anti-Whig
history. It has an endpoint; but it is an attempt to see its subject’s history during the Volume’s
period as a series of decisions, generally taken with less information than the decision-makers
would have liked about current conditions and essentially always taken without completely
confident knowledge of what the consequences of the various alternatives would be. It does not
presume there is an end to history, a fortune to be attained. The author knows quite well that
more is coming; and no one contemplating the state and challenges of the publishing industry
now could possibly think that 2004 was the beginning of a long equilibrium.
If emphasis has to be laid--as it at least implicitly always does, even in the seemingly
simplest and most straightforward of narratives—it is in the end far more illuminating to lay it on
the creation of possibilities rather than on their realizations. If prospective history is the
objective, the question to ask of decisions is always whether they changed the set of possible
futures in fruitful ways. The history to follow certainly takes note of the elaborately documented
legal forms and changes of regime, the reorganizations of intra-company debts into capital, and
the like. But its focus is on preoccupations and plans, on constraints and the creation of future
opportunities. The history of this enterprise is a history of resources, capabilities, and real
options. Enough of the latter were exercised to do far more than merely to command casual
attention at consequences. Enough were realized to show off the underlying machinery at work.
Pre-history
In the period in which the American economy began to recover from the Civil War, the
great bulk of the Oxford University Press’s business lay in Bibles and devotional texts. The
Delegates published scholarly books, though not very many and none that sold widely or
particularly well. The trade in school texts was just beginning and in any case was not yet very
large. Most of the enterprise (in both senses of the phrase) lay on the Bible side. The business in
Bibles and related material was very large indeed. Its variety might surprise modern readers and
its scale was only growing.
The Bible side printing was predominantly done in Oxford. Editions (and sizes) were
kept in standing type; but there were economies of scale in making to stock rather than making to
order and that is what the Printer did.1
The Press’s Bible trade was a wholesale one, but it had more customer variety than that
phrase might suggest. A small number of the customers—two in particular, the British and
Foreign Bible Society and the Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge—placed
On the existence of texts in standing type at mid-century, see the paragraph beginning “Stereo and electroplate
technologies” in Simon Eliot’s draft chapter in Vol. III of the History and the archival sources cited therein. The
Printer Horace Hart ordered, indexed, and secured plates in a formal and fireproof store in the Printing House as part
of his 1880s reorganization and refurbishment of the plant. See Hart’s 1905 report in OUP/C/3 (Storage was no
minor matter: the Bible in even a small format in standing type or plates could weigh two and a half tons.) It was
the existence of stored plates that would enable the London Publisher, Henry Frowde, to take over the Bible printing
from the Printing House as abruptly as he did shortly after the turn of the century.
1
4
relatively large orders.2 The U.K. Bible “monopoly” was shared and these individual customers
were in a position to negotiate terms with the firm. They drove a hard bargain. This, in
combination with the economies of scale in production, gave the Press a powerful incentive to
find incremental customers.
America was a promising vent for this potential surplus. The seventeenth-century settlers
had been mainly Protestant, accustomed to reading the Bible and indeed to having copies in the
home. Every town had its churches; itinerant preachers were common; and Great Awakenings
took place from time to time. There is no question but that the population valued liberty; but by
modern standards it was also quite religious.
Literacy levels were relatively high. Increasingly, Americans viewed education not as
something for the well-to-do but as a requirement for proper citizenship. From relatively early
on in the history of the Republic, public provision of basic primary education was common. The
high school movement was still in the future two-thirds the way through the late nineteenth
century; but when it came it represented a change in degree rather than a change in kind.
America was therefore a promising territory for the Press. The population was
potentially quite interested in its mass market products and was at that growing briskly and
steadily. Cities, where distribution was relatively inexpensive, were growing positively rapidly.
Rural districts were increasingly well-served by railroads. The Post Office delivered
everywhere. Postal rates on printed matter were subsidized.
This understanding was to some extent not novel to the Press in the nineteenth century.
Even in the period of the Revolutionary War, the Press had recognized the significance of
American demand. (The war had cut it off, and the Press had noticed.3) But now the demand
was larger; and with increasingly mechanized printing and binding technologies, and their
accompanying economies of scale; larger mattered more.
Efficient distribution involved fixed costs. It was cheaper to ship as well as to
manufacture in bulk. But then local storage premises were required. Advertising was expensive.
In such a physically large country, a dedicated sales staff, out and about, produced more sales
than any passive approach. But to lay out the funds for all of this, essentially on speculation,
may have seemed risky. The standard resort—whether cautious or exploratory, was to employ a
commission agent.
The Edinburgh firm of Thomas Nelson and Sons originated as a religious publisher. Its
overall profile by 1870 had shifted markedly towards more secular publishing. But its American
business was still predominantly religious. It handled that American business from a branch in
New York City. It knew the customers.and how to reach them. (It also knew how much to trust
their credit.) Its sales staff understood the product and had the manner down. It had premises
and competent record-keepers. All this had required capital investment as well as ongoing
expense of Nelson’s. So the firm wanted a return for selling others’ product. But sell it
cheerfully would, it seemed, if there was sufficient profit in it.
In 1865, the Bible Society alone took two thirds of the Press’s Bible output. See Leslie Howsam, Cheap Bibles:
Nineteenth Century Publishing and the British and Foreign Bible Society (CUP, 1991), 118.
3
Peter Sutcliffe, The Oxford University Press: An Informal History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), p. xxv.
2
5
Nelson’s developed a simple if somewhat subservient arrangement with the Bible Press.
It acted as the Press’s exclusive sales agent in the United States, buying bound books—Bibles
and devotional texts—at trade prices and reselling them at retail prices specified by the Press (in
practice, the London Publisher).4 The difference between the two was to cover Nelson’s
expenses and a reasonable profit. The sales were for some years basically steady but not
spectacularly large.
As the Press’s offerings began to broaden, and as the Delegates books continued to want
buyers, the question arose of whether there might be a suitable American agency for these as
well. Nelson’s was not right: its investments were too heavily concentrated in the religious field.
Macmillan had come to publish a range of product not dissimilar to Oxford and seems to have
indicated a willingness to set up a New York office. Alexander Macmillan, Publisher to the
University from 1863 to 1880 and the entrepreneurial head of a very active family publishing
house, had visited America after the Civil War. “He was impressed … ‘by the utter ignorance in
England of the country’s power, resources, and the enormous amount of great and good work
going on,’ in particular as a consequence of educational endowments. ‘A great international
publishing house is possible,’ he wrote, ‘and it would be a grand idea to be realized,’ but he had
learnt long ago of the advantages of small beginnings and was content at first with having a
direct agent in New York.”5 A suggestion fell upon ready ears; and a second, non-competitive,
agency was set up with Macmillan’s. It outlasted the somewhat tense ending of Alexander’s
time as Publisher by sixteen years.6
The terms of this contract looked different from the one with Nelson’s, at least on the
surface. The books to be sold were stipulated and the prices were to be fixed by the Press as in
the agreement with Nelson’s. But this one contained a most-favored nation clause rather than
exclusive dealing language. Macmillan promised not to resell the merchandise in other
territories. The financial terms were simple: a 10 percent commission of retail, just as for
Macmillan’s domestic sale of Press productions, was to go to the agent. Accounts were to be
rendered within three months of a fiscal year ending June 13th and payment was to have been
made by the first of the following year. It should perhaps be added that the contract was
embedded in a web of less formal relationships. Macmillan and Co. continued to advise the
Press on their American markets and in 1886 were granted the privilege of the inclusion of their
name under the distinctive Clarendon Press shield on all Press books sold in America.”7
The problems Nelsons posed to the Press were a somewhat idiosyncratic mixture, in part
a matter of the contract between them and in part a matter of the place of the business the
contract represented within Nelson’s whole. The contract implemented a principal-agent
relationship. It struck the usual uneasy balance between incentives and risk-sharing. The
incentives part is simple. London wanted to sell the books and leave its agent to worry about
[For now:] The exclusive dealing language was “”The Manager of the Oxford University Press Warehouse agrees
to sell Bibles, Testaments, and Prayer Books to no other House in the United States of America.” See Frowde to
Price, 6 Nov. 1989, remainder of cite to follow.
5
Charles Morgan, The House of Macmillan 1843-1943 (New York: Macmillan, 1944), 83.
6
On the ending, see Delegates’ Orders 14 Nov 1879.
7
See Mary Hammond’s draft chapter forthcoming in Volume II of the History citing a letter from Lyttleton Gell to
Frederick Macmillan of 20 May 1886 in the Macmillan Archive..
4
6
getting them into the hands of final customers. But if London’s price did not provide sufficient
margin to offset the risk given the agent’s expenses and opportunity costs, the agent’s
willingness to buy would decline. For agents such as Nelson’s with an ongoing relationship,
there might also be tension over the stock already in hand. And there were no particular
incentives to larger sales rather than smaller. The remainder of the idiosyncrasy owed to the
relationship between Nelson’s Oxford trade and the balance of Nelson’s American business.
This is explained below.
Macmillans posed problems as well but of a more familiar sort.8 The business certainly
grew briskly in the early years.9 But the agreement left many aspects of the promotion and sale
of Oxford books entirely in Macmillan’s hands. Furthermore, Macmillan’s sold competitive
goods. And the firm had not been in an entirely good odor since the profiteering tension leading
up to the ending of Alexander’s term as Publisher. The Delegates felt then that as Publishers
Macmillan’s made too much money on Press books relative to their own income and indeed a
new Memorandum of Agreement in 1873 clawed back exclusive dealing. A further revision in
1876 cut the domestic commission rate as well though it introduced most-favored nation
pricing.10
Two events came to focus Oxford’s attention on these issues. The first was the reaction
of Nelson’s to the depression of the 1870s. Demand for the Oxford product Nelson’s sold was
cyclically sensitive. The early 1870s saw a major downturn in levels of economic activity in
America. Nelson’s, facing its own fixed costs, would have wanted to respond somehow whether
or not there was competition from less expensive competitors offering high-quality product; and
there was. So Nelson’s lowered prices. This might have been all right had the London Publisher
or his nominal supervisor, the Secretary to the Delegates been consulted in advance and
consented; but they weren’t and they hadn’t. When that created problems, Nelson’s resisted
paying the full amount on the grounds that the volumes had not sold at the anticipated prices. Or
that many of the books received had been damaged. Or faulty in some other way. Or something,
anything that would prevent sales at full price and was not their responsibility or fault. When all
that failed, Nelson’s tried to negotiate prices down.
The then London Publisher, Henry Frowde, remained adamant. The Nelson’s people
went over his head to the Secretary; and they misrepresented his views in the correspondence.
Frowde was furious.11 He had not thought much of Nelson’s as businessmen or counterparties to
begin with.
Nelson’s American business has no doubt been very badly
managed. I hear rumors on all hands that Mr. R[obertson] has traded
recklessly and has incurred many, heavy bad debts which ordinary
business would have avoided. When Pott, Young, & Co reduced
certain prices he appears to have made reductions beyond what the
8
Alfred D. Chandler, The Visible Hand The Managerial Revolution in American Capitalism (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1977).
9
See Price to Frederick Macmillan, 6 Sep 1880, BL op. cit., f.63o
10
See the copy of a letter sent to Macmillan, Delegates’ Orders 19 Nov 1875
11
Confirm citation—probably Frowde to Price 24 Feb 1876, Amen House Letterbook 3 Correspondence of Henry
Frowde 13/11/1875-23/3/1876.97.
7
occasion required, and without judgment, and now would like to
saddle us with the consequences. With the management of their
business or with Pott[,] Young & Co reductions and subsequent
advances we, of course, have nothing to do. If we make ourselves
[liable] to after claims it will become a farce to stipulate for prices
beforehand.12
Subsequent to Nelson’s appeal to the Secretary, Frowde even raised the possibility of threatening
to cancel the contract, albeit apparently more as a negotiating ploy than as a preferred
alternative.13 The tension of the moment was eventually resolved; but friction, as time passed,
continued.14 Frowde had a censorious mind and a long memory.
When the depression of the early 1890s, an even worse one than that of the 1870s, came,
Nelsons tried again. Its situation had in some important respects worsened by this time. The
company’s own trade had been declining. The Oxford product remained good, perhaps too
good: Nelson’s were becoming dependent on their Bible supplier. In expansive times, this might
have been good thing from Oxford’s perspective: Nelsons would not drive so hard a bargain. In
bad times, the situation was less attractive. Nelsons had fewer other sources from which to cover
its overhead. Oxford needed some competent firm to pay it. There weren’t many alternative
firms to hand. If the Press valued the basic arrangement, it was stuck.
But much was different on the Oxford side by this time. Frowde was by now not a young
and new employee but an established figure, with judgment that was trusted and valued, and as a
practical matter a great deal of operating autonomy. He could also, by this time, point to a long
history of complaints by him to the Secretary. So he had the whip hand. It is here the history of
the New York Branch properly begins.
A New York Branch: Early days
The central figure in the establishment of the New York branch was Henry Frowde, as
previously mentioned the then manager of what was (and would soon formally be called) the
Press’s London Business. A brief account of him may be in order. Frowde emerged from the
Bible publishing industry and was hired at a relatively young age in 1874 to run the Press’s
London warehouse i.e. its non-scholarly trading operations. He was quiet, not to say
interpersonally a bit withdrawn, and somewhat severe in manner when he did interact with
others. While devout, he was also an astute and ambitious businessman (and not the less
successful for his relentless mastery of small detail). He succeeded Macmillan as Publisher in
1880. Even by the standards of Macmillan in his prime, Frowde was entrepreneurially minded
and highly energetic. He also had capital invested. In the course of his nearly forty years’
service to the Press, he put his stamp on almost everything he touched; and he touched more and
more with every passing year.
Frowde was, as the discussion above suggests, suspicious about the relations with
Nelsons more or less from the moment these came to his attention. He was himself very
12
Frowde to Price 21 Jun 1876, ibid..
Frowde to Price, 5 Sep 1876, ibid.
14
For some interim instances of the 1880s, see (per Fraser) Amen House Letterbook No. 10, Correspondence of
Henry Frowde, XX/10/1882=XX/7/1883.e.g. 315, 333, 416, 441..
13
8
impressed with the quality of the Oxford product; and one imagines he felt that Nelsons couldn’t
possibly be selling it as hard or as successfully as he or his supervisees would have done.
Certainly he cast a jaundiced eye on the pleas from Nelsons in the 1870s. What they almost
surely saw as (counter-cyclical) risk-sharing, he almost certainly saw as shirking.
Was Frowde’s view reasonable? One might well argue that it was. If Nelsons claim to
rents in the good part of the cycle was based on a return to investment they had made i.e.
reflecting a long-term and forward-looking perspective on investment and return, then surely
there was no special case for periods with sub-average revenue flows. The returns in good
periods ought to be available to cover any deficits in the bad ones. Frowde was not impressed by
what good businessmen Nelsons were. In fact, he festered over being stuck with them.
The festering came to a head when the 1890s troubles hit. Nelsons wrote, seeking an
easing of terms. They pointed to market conditions; when that didn’t work, they pointed to
competitive offerings. At first, Frowde simply wouldn’t listen. Then he decided to investigate
first-hand.
He went by boat to New York in the late summer of 1895. He had meetings with
Nelsons and apparently examined their books. He investigated premises, theirs and others. His
letters to the then-Secretary, Gell, do not disguise his disdain. He felt that the situation was not
good.
…. It is evident that [the Nelson’s representative] Mr. Brown was
alarmed by my assurance that if the claim for rebate and reduced
prices was pressed as an alternative to their standing aside, we should
give notice to terminate the agreement; and I feel sure that the claim
will now be withdrawn and an attempt made to minimize the
seriousness of the situation. I feel equally sure that the position is
most serious, that Messrs Nelson are practically standing aside already
and are rapidly losing their trade in Oxford Bibles and I fear that it is
no longer possible to do a satisfactory Bible business in the United
States through tem or any other exclusive purchaser.
He felt, in short, that the situation was grave. And he scented desperation at Nelson’s. The
reason was not far to seek: the balance of Nelson’s sourcing at this point suggested that the
situation would not get better anytime soon.
During satisfactory years Messrs. Nelson’s averaged £70,000
Annually of which £64,000 has consisted of our editions and £6,000 of
their own publications[:] there is hardly any demand for their books in
the States and their School books are not used here. The great bulk of
their trade expenses [therefore] has to be defrayed out of the profits
they make on Oxford Bibles.
Furthermore, he clearly thought their management slack and lackadaisical.
I do not consider that Messrs. Nelson’s American Branch is as
efficiently managed as it should be. …Their business is conducted in
9
too costly a manner. They pay £1600 per annum rent while I could get
thoroughly satisfactory premises for about £600 or £700. They pay
their manager a salary of £1000 while I could get a much better man
for £700 and other things in the same proportion.
Action was required.
Messrs. Nelson will probably do everything in their power to
prevent or postpone a rupture [T]hey have often bought foolishly and
have accumulated a large quantity of doubtful stock which they will be
desirous to work off. But it we allow matters to drift the business will
be destroyed before we get it into our hands.
He did not see much risk and therefore relatively modest capital requirements. The Press i.e. he,
thought Frowde, could do better on its (his) own15. “If we do the business ourselves, I am
confident we shall be able to make it profitable without sending over Plates or asking Mr. Hart
[i.e. the Printing House] to supply quires at the bare cost of paper and presswork.”16 The only
reason he seemed to think might argue for American printing was copyright.17 He did not see
much risk in the American business (in bad debt, cyclical crises aside) and thus foresaw only
relatively modest ongoing capital requirements. His view of the prospects was, in the words of
Gell’s successor, “roseate”.18
Firing them immediately was not an option, since the contract had notice terms; and an
abrupt rupture might have had bad reputation effects. Instead Frowde resolved to offer revised
terms. The most notable was that Nelsons would have to commit to buying £40,000 a year of
Oxford product, roughly what Frowde thought they out to be able to be selling at the time.19 The
implicit threat (eventually, perhaps unsurprisingly given the tone of the above) was giving
notice. Nelson’s cash reserves were presumably thin. They declined; Frowde then did give
notice; and he then begin planning on how to take over the agency.
This was, as suggested above, not simply a matter of renting premises and putting up a
sign. Stock is crucial for sales but even more so in the wholesale book trade is customer
relationships. Frowde immediately set about hiring staff away from Nelsons. (He clearly felt the
problem lay not in the employees but in the managers.) Frowde wanted travelers but also
someone to run the operation. When he found his candidate for the latter post in John
In this he intended to displace an agent with actors under the Press’s direct supervision. See Robert Fraser’s
chapter in Vol. II.
16
The block quotes and this passage are from Frowde to Gell, August 23, 1895, Untitled Letterbook from Walton
Street Archives.
17
Wilkinson to Mifflin Co., Sept. 4, 1895, ibid. (The copyrights were to be in Frowde’s name so that he could
easily take legal action if required. He assigned them to the Press. The Assignment document of 20 Aug. 1897 is in
OUP/PUB/21/2/4.
18
Cannan to XXX, CITE TO FOLLOW
19
Frowde to Spoffard, Sept. 5, 1895, ibid. Other proposed terms are not without interest, among them that “[a]ll
books purchased by Messrs. Nelson at these prices shall be sold by them at an absolute loss, money out of pocket, of
not less than ten percent so long as an equal or greater loss is incurred upon the books in question by the Oxford
University Press.”
15
10
Armstrong, he offered salary back to the beginning of the year.20 He was making a capital
investment.
Frowde thought it prudent that Armstrong, and eventually all four of the senior
appointees, invest in the enterprise. It is clear from correspondence that at least part of his
objective concerned costs: if Armstrong had an interest in the profits, this would, Frowde seems
to have hoped, alter the tariff status of deliveries at the New York Customs House.21 Discussion
of the proposal in Oxford was more interesting. Gell wanted these sums to stand as security: if
irresponsible decisions were made, the senior figures would have something at stake.22 But he
wanted to offer a more positive incentive a more positive incentive as well: if the Branch was
profitable, these investments would pay a return “in proportion of the profits on the capital of the
American Branch: minimum of 4 per cent. to be guaranteed for the first three years”.23 Frowde
resisted the security notion, responding that all four individuals, who each had more than twenty
years’ experience with Nelson’s, had not had to offer security there and had in that time turned
down offers from other American publishers without such requirements. But he—who himself
had money in the London operations—did not resist the upside incentives.24 The individuals
emerged as shareholders.25
Once it was clear that the branch project would be going forward, Frowde also gave
notice to Macmillan’s.26 The separation was basically amicable. Macmillans pointed out that
Agreement between Henry Frowde and John Armstrong, 28 Feb. 1896, Walton Street Archives File Folder “New
York Constitution,” clause 5.
21
Frowde to Gell, March 3, 1897, OUP/PUB/21/2/1.
22
The £500 in question was characterized as a loan “, shown upon the capital invested in the American Branch[,] to
the Delegates, … the loan to be held as a security by the Delegates, and to be repayable by them at any time. Any
presumption of Partnership or control on the part of Mr. Armstrong needs to be carefully excluded.” [Gell] to
Williams, March 3, 1897, ibid. “It must be made quite certain that the real owners of the New York Branch that is
to say, the Delegates, shall always have absolute power either to dismiss the Directors or any other office[r?]s and
indeed to put an end altogether to the Company if it pleases them so to do ….” Williams to Gell, 14 July 1897,
Markby papers? There is a great deal of evidence that the Delegates worried that New York borrowings might
imperil their own resources and credit. See, e.g. Willliams to Guthrie, 24 July, 1897, ibid.?. This showed up in part
in struggles over how broad the power of attorney from Frowde to the New York manager should be. Frowde
favored more expansive powers, the Delegates less. (The Delegates, of course, won: See Delegates’ Order Book, 3
July, 1896, in which inter alia Armstrong is “forbidden” to overdraw the American bank account, that the bank
report the balance monthly to the Delegates, and that the summary of the cash account received from New York by
Frowde, weekly initially [see Draft of Memorandum as to the Management of the American Branch of the
Delegates’ Bookselling and Publishing Business, Approved by the Delegates 31 July, 1896, Walton Street Archives
“New York Constitution” file folder?], should also be reported regularly to the Delegates.)
23
Ibid.
24
Frowde to Gell, March 31, 1897, ibid. He had earlier, in correspondence with the New York principals, raised
the possibility of paying them a bonus of 2 ½ percent on any net profits in excess of ten percent of gross sales. See
Frowde to Olver, 28 Feb. 1896, OUP/PUB/21/2/4. This was later characterized as a promise, cf. Memorandum of a
Conference Between Price, Markby, Gell, Frowde, and Williams, 3 June 1896, Walton Street Archives “New York
Constitution” file folder.
25
Minutes of the First Meeting of Directors, 20 Aug. 1897, OUP/PUB/21/2/4.
26
Robert Fraser says in his draft chapter for Volume II of the History that as of 1890 the relationship between
Oxford and Macmillan was a “partnership—no longer strictly speaking a formal agency”. There is no footnote
indicating in more detail what he means or why he thinks this. (Perhaps he refers to the 1892 episode later on in his
text in the Chase Act section at f/n 102.) (He also says “… by the closing decade of the [nineteenth] century
Macmillan of New York were looking towards an autonomous future. By now their share in the marketing of the
Press’s learned books locally had, as we have already seen, shrunk to less than a third….” I must explore this
20
11
the Oxford stock turned only once a year if that and that they therefore had quite an investment
on hand. Oxford should buy it back.27 This was resolved amicably and promptly.28 The tone of
the letters is very much that of correspondence among old friends. Frowde was alarmed to learn
not long after this agreement that Macmillan was declining to supply Clarendon Press books to
one of the largest jobbers in the country, A.C. McClurg of Chicago, prior to the agreed
termination date. Macmillan’s was clearly going to compete: the relationship on the ground
would, apparently, be different.29
This Oxford New York operation, housed in premises at 93 Fifth Avenue, was originally
set up as a subsidiary of the London business, owned by Frowde (who would act as a trustee for
the University). Frowde was for obvious reasons concerned to exercise direct control; and this
seemed the most straightforward way to do so. Local counsel eventually persuaded him that this
arrangement was on balance undesirable. What he gained in control he, or the Press in the event
that he should retire or die, might lose in other costs and practical difficulties. They made
arguments for incorporating the branch, preferably as a New York corporation but in any case as
a corporation proper, wholly-owned by the Press.30 This was accomplished in the following
year.31
The Press took the view that the sale of Oxford Bibles and Prayer Books in the United
States had become an important part of the Press business overall, and early staffing was oriented
around selling Frowde’s Bibles.32 A very modest New York office was supplemented by no less
further.) On Gell’s noodling on what the relationship between the firms was in the 80s and 90s, see BL op. cit. up to
and at f. 95. See BL op. cit. at 103 for flirtatious advances from Others (in that instance, Putnam’s). See also f. 128.
The relationship basically comes to an end at BL op. cit. 167. Last Rites are conducted at f. 173-74 (referring to the
Delegates Meeting of April 9, 1897.Note for the eventual footnote to go here that Macmillan seems to have set up its
American operations as a New York corporation, with its local manager as a partner.
27
Brett to Gell, March 25, 1897, OUP/PUB/21/2/2.
28
Brett to Gell, April 20, 1897, and Gell to Brett, May 14, 1897, ibid.
29
This was indeed what happened. Armstrong wrote on 27 th July, 1898, that “[i]t is quite evident that Macmillan
propose duplicating all our most popular books”. See Cannan to Markby, 17 August, 1898, Markby papers?.
Frowde comments in a letter in 1904 (Letterbook 65, p. 22) that Macmillan was hardly importing nay of the books it
sold in America but reprinting all their most popularly books locally. He also notes of Longmans that they had
recently heavily fined recently for cheating the Customs by “getting their books through at a fifth or a sixth of the
published prices”.
30
Seward, Guthrie, and Steele to Frowde, 31 October, 1896, Walton Street Archives “New York Constitution” file
folder. They furnished, at Frowde’s request, a second letter of the same date recommending an agency but
commented in yet a third letter of that date to their correspondent Freshfields that “so far as we can judge, the
University [would be] running an unnecessary risk in having this booksellers publishing business transacted for it by
Agents. In the present instance, there may be no objection because the Delegates can repose the utmost confidence
in Mr. Frowde; but in the case of his death or illness, the agency might fall into the hands of a reckless, incompetent,
or unscrupulous man who might involve the University in very serious liability, for it would be liable as principal
for any debt or liabilities which the Agent might incur in the business. All this risk can be avoided by adopting the
form of a corporation … and having the profits of the American branch go to the University by way of dividends
upon the stock of the new Company.” Frowde agreed, summarizing the case in Frowde to Gell, 17 Nov. 1896,
Walton Street Archive “New York Constitution” file folder?; and so it went forward.
31
The Delegates were also concerned about control and the underlying risk and indeed had been from before the
idea of a New York Branch really took shape. See e.g. Markby to Wright, July 4, 1891, [Markby Correspondence
file, I think—confirm with Thorin.)
32
On the place of the line of business, see the case as submitted to Montague Crackenthorpe and Howard Wright,
n.d. but c. 2 Feb. 1897, in Walton Street Archive “New York Constitution” file folder.
12
than ten travelers in 1909.33 Territories covered the entire continent. Sales were sensitive to the
state of the national economy—Armstrong writes in 1898 that “[t]he war has only affected local
business; thoughout the country, trade is steadily improving, the farmers are getting big prices
for grain, and a heavy fall [New York Branch] business will be the natural result.”34 Early sales
were not entirely Bibles and the like, however: halfway through 1898, Armstrong’s figures
showed that the latter had been just shy of 20 percent of the total to that point.35 Armstrong felt
that textbook sales would be even higher if he could have resources to send a traveler to colleges
and universities.36 There were limits to what could be accomplished via the mail; and more
advertising, while it would be helpful, would not do all that could profitably be done. Armstrong
quietly demonstrated that such travelers could do useful market research as well.37 Despite
occasional frustrating shipping delays, the operation was successful overall and continued to
justify the initial sense of promise.38 Revenues hit Frowde’s £40,000 level by its [second] year.
There were profits from 1900.
The branch did not, even in those earliest days, confine itself to selling books printed in
England. There is evidence of importation in sheets but also, as early as the 1898 American
edition of the Revised Version of the Bible, of American printing. The ambitions did not stop
with domestic supply (free of trans-Atlantic carriage and customs and apparently still of a high
enough quality to leave the value of the Oxford brand name undiluted). Armstrong was by
background and current employment chiefly a Bible entrepreneur; and he persuaded a
remarkable Kansan to create a new Bible property for the Branch. Mr. Scofield might seem to
have had an unusual background for a Biblical scholar. But his later life was more settled and
systematic than his earlier; and the indexed Bible he produced was published by New York in
1909 and was a major success. Bibles and related devotional material were not, as observed
above, all of New York’s business at this time. But they were, and for some time remained, the
heart of it.
Nor was non-Bible publishing confined to the traditional British resources. As the
London Business was imaginatively expanding its scope, so too did New York. In 1912,
Armstrong reported “contracts for more than twenty new books, to be ready this and next year,
besides the American Verse which is promised this Fall.”39 The most striking and durable
example lay in the medical field. New York commissioned and in 1917 began to publish a
looseleaf Oxford Surgery. (An Oxford Medicine followed shortly.) This was in effect a serial of
monographs, regularly extended and updated. Physicians and libraries subscribed. The work’s
33
Publishers Weekly, February 27, 1909, p. 929. The number fluctuated slightly from time to time but was still 10
two decades later—see Publishers Weekly, 2 Feb. 1929, p. 520.
34
Ibid. (It may be worth noting that the 1919 American Census of Population coded more than half the population
as dwelling in rural [which would be generally agricultural] areas, though it was the last decennial Census to find
this.).
35
Armstrong [to Frowde?], June 3, 1898, OUP/PUB/16/2.
36
Armstrong to Frowde, May 10, 1899, ibid. A Delegate visiting New York at the time agreed—see Gerrans to
Cannan, Sept. 20, 1900, ibid.
37
Armstrong to Frowde, June 22, 1900, ibid.
38
On the delays, see Armstrong to Frowde, Dec. 7, 1900, OUP/PUB/16/2 (concerning a tardy order of Sohm’s
Roman Law). “Columbia College is still waiting for its supply—some of the other Colleges have thrown out the
book and substituted another.” He estimated the lost custom at about $500 overall.
39
Armstrong to Frowde, April 16, 1912, GF 19/000100?.
13
authority grew with its length (and high-quality indexing). Its command over what were in effect
ongoing revenue flows was a publishers dream.
One naturally wonders how this activity was financed. The Branch was originally set up,
as Frowde wrote in 1897, “as an integral part of our London business giving it no Capital or
Stock of its own but sending supplies of B.B.B. stock on consignment account.”40 This had the
merit, from Frowde’s perspective, of placing everything clearly under Frowde’s oversight and
control. But it had disadvantages, the most immediately visible one of which was that the New
York Customs House authorities, with American manufacturing interests behind them, were
basically hostile to goods sent out on consignment to branch houses.41 The goods were subjected
to essentially punitive duties then they otherwise might be; and there was agitation to have such
shipments entirely excluded in the pending tariff legislation. Placing the business on a separate
footing, like the Press’s other principal businesses, giving it its own capital, and having its
purchase its supplies outright from London would solve this problem, leaving only duties
payable on the invoice prices (at the still not inconsiderable book rate of 25 percent ad
valorem).42 But this would not in itself determine where the money came from. In getting the
Branch started, goods worth £26,658 and freight and related fees, fittings, furniture, and the like
of £12,287 (of which about which two-thirds was for freight, insurance on the shipment, import
duties, and Customs House fees) flowed to New York, drawn from a £28,000 loan from the
Delegates to the B.B.B. for the purpose and carried on the B.B.B. books as such.43 The question
was whether the loan was to remain there until paid off or to be assumed—in whole or in part—
by the Delegates. It should perhaps be noted that in this period the Bound Book Business (i.e.
Frowde) borrowed money from the Delegates from time to time to meet its own obligations. 44 It
was also the case that New York had by this point already made an initial payment of £4,000 on
its account. The Committee on Finance of the American Branch decided to recommend to the
Delegates that they transfer £10,000 of their loan to the BBB to the credit of the capital of New
York, presumably leaving the rest of the Branch’s balance to Frowde and New York to resolve
over time. The Committee also recommended “that the American Branch be treated as a
Business additional to the five existing Businesses, viz. the Bible Press, the Learned Press, the
Wolvercote Mill, the Bound Book Business, the Binding Business, and that its account be kept in
40
Frowde to Gell, 3 March 1897, OUP/PUB/21/2/4.
Sometimes this seemed not to be a matter of broad American manufacturing interests so much as one of actual
specific competitors. See Frowde to Gell, 24 July, 1896, Walton Street Archives “New York Constitution” file
folder?.
42
Frowde to Gell 3 Feb. 1897, ibid. Own capital, and indeed more rather than less, would also be valuable in
getting the company better credit and in rights litigation, since “it is frequently of weight with the [American] courts
… to be able to show that a substantial sum is invested in the local business, particularly … when seeking to secure
injunctions.”Seward, Guthrie, and Steele to Freshfields and Williams, 27 March, 1897, Walton Street Archives
“New York Constitution” file folder?. This last was no abstract consideration. In the Court Record for The
Chancellors, Masters, and Scholars of the University of Oxford (Complainants) against Wilmore-Andrews
Publishing Company (Defendants), 3 Jan. 1899, U.S. Circuit Court, Southern District of New York—the case that
eventually established the Press’s position—Samuel C. Andrews, one of the defendants, testified (in answer to
Question 112) that “[t]he bibles published in America for the last hundred years, and even longer, have been
reprinted from the Oxford bibles published by the University of Oxford. I know of no bible that has ever been
published in America wherein the text was not reprinted from editions of Oxford bibles.”
43
See Charles Ogilvy, “Financial Notes Respecting American Branch” enclosed with Cannan to Markby, March 22,
1897 [Markby Correspondence file?] (On the parentheses, see Committee on the Finance of the American Branch,
minutes of meeting of March 16, 1897, ibid.)
44
Frowde to Gell, 31 March, 1897, OUP/PUB/21/2/1.
41
14
a similar manner as to Capital, Profit and Loss, etc. and be incorporated annually with the
accounts of these Businesses in the general accounts of the Press.” Some distance from Frowde,
or at least from his optimism, may be suspected.
Armstrong died unexpectedly while on holiday, of a heart attack while in the surf at
Beach Haven, New Jersey, in 1915 and was replaced by another of the old Nelson’s hands,
William West McIntosh.45 The transition seemed to have been thought unproblematic at the
time, McIntosh’s relatively advanced age (61) and modest managerial background
notwithstanding.
Statistics of early sales and profits are given in Table 1. The branch was, as remarked
above, soon profitable the fiscal year twenty years on from the start suggests that Frowde was
absolutely correct. Progress was not always entirely straightforward, a four-alarm fire in the
overhead floors of the building in 1912, for example, causing nearly $10,000 in damages and a
two-week closure, and even a rising trend had dips and the occasional reverse.46 But the fire was
an anomaly in the record and so were the minor downturns in sales. As a general matter,
revenues blossomed. Book profits grew steadily, 1908 and 1909 aside, and were from 1900
onwards very reliably positive.
45
His obituary is in Publishers Weekly, August 14, 1915, p. 492.
Armstrong felt that they had in fact gotten off lightly. See Armstrong to Frowde, 3 May, 1912, GF 19/000100?.
(Some real risk management had been very valuable. “The experience of the fire in Nelsons, in Union Square in
1888, 24 years ago, which was almost a parallel case, the upper floors of the building having been burned … and the
place flooded by water, taught us a very valuable lesson; so that when we built our shelves we provided for just such
an emergency, and left room at the top of all shelves for the firemen to place their waterproof covers. … [T]he …
adjusters … say they will recommend that it be put in the regulations of the fire insurance companies … that space
… be left at the top … in order to prevent great damage by water.”)
46
15
Table 1
Year ended
31 March
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
Sales
18,526
41,293
46,892
52,176
55,477
55,972
60,549
64,679
67,065
70,574
80,073
80,368
78,645
92,172
89,529
92,635
95,929
96,441
97,262
106,563
20,592
Stocks
17,362
23,443
28,368
24,216
27,779
23,111
27,481
26,273
28,281
24,530
29,969
34,631
32,483
37,982
42,305
41,397
43,268
40,693
43,258
43,340
20,592
Profit
(3,036)
(6)
893
1,067
1,791
3,243
3,476
3,792
4,852
8,349
7,333
5,348
7,636
7,280
7,295
7,177
8,509
9,441
14,123
20,592
These figures alone give a distorted view of the relationship between the Press and the
Branch, however. The most obvious observation is that sums were deducted as costs which in
fact were flows of into the accounts of the Press, in some cases straight to the bottom line.47
In every year, the Press took out in dividends a healthy portion of the profits.
47
There was a category designed to offset UK company taxation but paid even when no such taxes were paid.
16
Table 2
Year ended
31 March
1905
1906
1907
1908
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
Delegates’ portion of
dividends
1,467
2,201
5,355
4,515
5,124
5,088
5,052
4,907
5,773
6,494
9,861
14,755
Trademark
expense
216
258
215
294
430
416
417
456
448
675
1,343
2,894
And none of this speaks to the question of pricing. It seems that the books were priced ex
London or Oxford just as they would be to any other trade member i.e. with a profit already built
in.
It seems clear from the foregoing that in this period the view from England was that New
York simply represented incremental sales.48 The officials on the spot had certain more
ambitious projects. But the focus of the Press and Delegates seems more simply to have been be
siphoning off such excess cash flows as they could on a current basis.
A Turbulent Decade
One year on made quite a difference. Milford had written wrote McIntosh in a cheery
tone in the summer of 1917, enclosing the final version of the fiscal year’s financial statements.
The Branch had made nearly $100,000. A dividend of 10 percent would be declared and a bonus
of a further 85 percent was to nearly deplete the total. “This is a very fine result on which I
congratulate you and all your colleagues heartily.” But this did not last. Profits fell by nearly
half in the following fiscal year. As of the end of that year, invoices on the New York Branch’s
account in London had nearly doubled compared to the level of 1913 and 1914. This was good.
But they had risen nearly three times as fast as New York sales had; and what may have
appeared as pure opportunity in New York the London end-of-year accounts assumed bore a
more ominous look in London. New York had run up a tab as of 31 March 1918 of £72,873. It
had been £25,928 the year before, £10,619 the year before that (though, to be fair, £17,551 the
“The main object of the Company … will be to act as a Sales Department for its Sister business in England,”
Williams to Guthrie, 24 July 1897, Markby papers?, underlining in original. Gell, always competitive had been
skeptical (see Gell to Williams, 19 October, 1897, Markby papers?); but Frowde’s supporters had outnumbered his
and eventually outlasted him as well, even as they remarked privately (Cannan to Markby, 2 Sept. 1898, Markby
Papers) “The Branch is dry and we must send it £3000! It is very explicable, but we shall have to have a Delegate
residing in New York if this goes on!”
48
17
year before that). The London Publisher, Milford, noted that in April of 1918 that £43,971 was
overdue. This amounted to nearly two-thirds the value of the fiscal year’s invoices to New York.
The total tab slightly actually exceeded the year’s invoices. London was at the time hardpressed.49 Milford expressed his concern directly in correspondence with New York.
The rise in balances and their level clearly in fact occasioned some alarm in Milford’s
mind. It is less clear why Oxford should have cared. Pricing, considered as transfer pricing
might have been off; but one did not need to go so far as to fix that. Milford had his current bills
to pay; but from New York’s perspective, there were resources of New York origin with which
to pay them. Business was cyclical. So too were profits. London and Oxford had, as noted
above, siphoned cash out of New York when times were good and they had, one way or another,
disposed of the money. There were no balances in the UK now in New York’s name; and New
York had, as a matter of shareholder policy, no reserve funds of its own. But now times had
become not so good. New York no longer had the money to pay in advance of final sale. Where
was the money, London cried. Already banked in the UK was the answer.
The accounting anomaly had real consequences. The convention was, in practical terms,
to charge New York interest on the negative balances. But the sum in question was now large;
and the burden on New York’s operations going forward may have seemed non-trivial. A
financial reorganization took place trebling the capital stock. The UK shareholders took the bulk
of the new shares (the New York shareholders were not diluted), these amounting to $60,000 in
toto.50 Preferred stock paying 6 percent interest made up the rest (and the bulk of it).51 In
exchange, the indebtedness was released.52
This reorganization was perfectly genuinely called a reorganization vis a vis the balance
sheets of the operating units. It didn’t have any net effect on the overall organization beyond the
cash-flow consequences on New York.53
Curiously, given that, a great deal of time and external advisors’ energy was involved in
finalizing the details. This was to a substantial extent a consequence of World War I, in
particular, the means adopted by governments to pay its expenses. A central element of the
American approach was to establish w so-called “excess profits tax”. The full-blown version of
this, which in its earliest appearance was a tax on munitions manufacturers, was a broadly-based
tax on business corporations. The name suggests the tax was to be levied on dollar profits above
Milford to McIntosh, 17 Oct., 1919, Cary Archive, “JB Office—Private” folder.
On the New York shareholders, see Cravath and Henderson to McIntosh, 17 April, 1918, Cary Archive, “Royalty
Storage Room,” metal box.
51
For the details, see Cravath and Henderson to Milford, 20 May, 1918, Walton Street Archives, “New York 18971972” box, file “NYB Special Notes 1918”.
52
See the release of indebtedness instrument included with Milford to Cravath and Henderson, 27 June, 1918,
Walton Street Archives, “New York 1897-1972” box, file “NYB Special Notes 1918”.,
53
Milford did raise the services fees charged by London to New York, claiming that “we have never really put
things on a thoroughly commercial footing since the early days of the Branch when you were treated as a favorite
son and let off very lightly.” He also raised all the shareholders’ salaries., remarking that “[t]he American
shareholders financial position is evidently not so favorable, through no fault of ours or theirs, as it was twelve
months ago, and it is very far from my wish that in these times of hard work and high pressure they should suffer
more than is the inevitable lot of us all.” Milford to McIntosh, 22 May, 1918, Cary Archive, “Royalty Storage
Room,” metal box.
49
50
18
a certain level. But as it was implemented, it was a tax on the return on invested capital relative
to those reported in the 1913-1915 period (or imputed as required). This meant that capitalizing
the debt to London would have tax consequences and benefits would have to be weighed against
costs.
This might seem from the correspondence to be a new beginning. From the perspective
of cash flows available in New York i.e. for whatever purposes, this was not entirely true. The
whole structure of fees and related transfers remained intact. Oxford in effect wanted fast
steeplechase times and moved the starting line forward a bit. But it kept its runners’ shoes
surreptitiously heavy, and how much of an effect this might have would depend upon how many
jumps there were ahead and how high and long they were.
The American macro-economy in the immediate aftermath of this reorganization was not
helpful. America’s participation in the war had been short, but the post-war inflation was
nonetheless sharp, with all the problems inflation usually brings to operating businesses. After
the inflation came a crisis. It was small by historic standards (and quite small by the standards of
what was coming) but large enough to produce a cyclical downturn in 1921. This was hard on
New York sales and profits for different, if ordinary, sorts of reasons. In 1919, New York
operations barely scraped a profit at all. Fiscal year 1920 was at least in nominal terms much
more successful, indeed the most successful year to date; and 1921 was the third-best and not
much worse. But the first break in the long run of annual profits then appeared: fiscal 1922 and
1923 were years of substantial losses. London’s profits had been out of synch for some time and
Milford had been complaining again, increasingly vociferously, about the low level of settlement
and remittances.54
Thereafter, however, the ‘twenties seemed to begin to roar for the Press. The branch
reported middling profits in 1924 and relatively generous ones, as third again as high, in 1925.
The glass-half-empty view would have been volatility if not cyclicality; but it was possible to
read the figures as emergence from a time of troubles back to a solidly profitable norm.
Certainly the Branch behaved as of the latter was true: for example, there was market research
correspondence back to Milford discussing in ambitious detail possible new titles.55
The twenties’ roar seemed to turn into a whimper in the financial statements abruptly in
the course of 1926 and the whimper to tears and the beginnings of quiet sobbing by the following
year. There had been some prefiguration, in particular a letter from a young Englishman sent out
by Milford complaining about executive incapacity and general under-management, a lack of
sufficiently effective marketing, a shocking degree of ignorance of the scope of the Press’s
54
See e.g.. Milford to McIntosh, 21 Jan., 1921, and 3 June, 1921 (two), Milford to Brown, 11 July, 1921, Milford to
McIntosh, 29 Nov., 1921, all Cary Archive, “JB Office—Private” folder. In 1921, Milford wrote, New York was
London’s principal creditor. He writes sometimes with a relatively gentle urgency (in the letter of November 21,
“An overdue debt of some £100,000 cannot be borne for long, even by a large institution like this ….”) and
sometimes more fiercely (on July 11, “[t]he position becomes increasingly serious here every week. … If we were
an ordinary trade creditor, you would have been in the bankruptcy court by now …”). He urged borrowing in New
York (letter of January 21) and when New York hinted that it would like a little of the proceeds cabled. “Absolutely
counting on your remitting whole proceeds loan immediately.” Cable Milford to NY, 16 March, 1921, Walton Street
Archives, “New York 1897-1972” box, file “NYB Special Notes 1918
55
See e.g. “Intelligent Suggestions By School & College Teachers”, enclosed with Valentine to Milford, 4 March,
1926, Walton Street Archive Strong Room “New York Branch—Officers—1901-1970” file.
19
product line in the retail trade and among university professors in New York and Philadelphia,
the two largest and wealthiest cities in the country at the time, and the like.56 Sterling (i.e.
remittable) profits fell by half from 1926 to 1927. The books for 1927 showed a loss almost as
largest as the largest annual profits to date. 1928 was not developing well either. This was
increasingly keenly felt in London. Even in 1926, Milford was hard pressed for cash.57
The debts to London were also, again, mounting.58 Overall, the situation seemed grave
when viewed in the UK and the staff in New York old and perhaps set in their ways. (McIntosh
was by this point 73.) A visitation seemed to be in order. Frowde’s sucessor Milford and the
Secretary, Chapman, came, trailing Geoffrey Cumberlege. They left Cumberlege when they
departed.
The gathering troubles had been masked by the great success of a single publication,
Cushing’s Life of Sir William Osler in 1926. They were perhaps also masked by the absence of
any very disaggregated information flow to the UK and indeed accounting systems which
apparently did not generate such information even for consideration in New York. The powers
of the accountant Brown who features as an able official in correspondence at the time of the
1919 reorganization seem by the mid-twenties to have run their course.59 Product-level profitand-loss statements surely would have made the realities accessible. But the information was not
to hand. Even in 1928, the Branch learned the key Bible trade was generally depressed from
“[r]eports from trade journals, our travelers, & other sources.”60
Cumberlege was an anomalous figure in the history to this point. Unlike the English
managers, he was neither a clever but previously under-engaged ex-don nor a prize-winning
student such as Milford (a scholarship holder at Winchester and New College, a double first in
the demanding school of Literae Humanores, etc.) Cumberlege had attended a relatively humble
college and had attained only a third-class degree. But he was an Oxford man; he had had quite
a good war (promoted, twice decorated for bravery, and three times mentioned in dispatches);
and the Army clearly thought him an individual with leadership qualities, promoting him
repeatedly from his first commission up to Brigade Major.61 The Press took him on when he was
demobilized and quickly began to make use of these. The operations in India were drifting and
listless. Mere months after he began work, Captain Cumberlege was sent out fix them and soon
began to set them right. Seven years later he was, in effect, summoned to New York and set to
work there.
Valentine to Milford, 3 April, 1926, . Walton Street Archive Strong Room “New York Branch—Officers—19011970” file.
57
Milford wrote to Chapman, the then Secretary to the Delegates, that he was forced to borrow £5,000 in London.
“He had previously written to New York begging funds and had received only £500 by cable in response. “I have
written—but not yet sent—a letter to Mac expressing some of my feelings. I do well to be angry, I think you will
agree. A man with a spark of vision or imagination would have scraped up £5000 somehow—he could easily have
postponed a few trade payments.” Milford to Chapman, 10 May, 1926, Walton Street Archive Strong Room “New
York Branch—Officers—1901-1970” file
58
See Price, Waterhouse (NY) to Brown, 9 March, 1927, Walton Street Archives, “New York 1897-1972” box, file
“NYB Special Notes 1918”.
59
He was dismissed, gently and with a comfortable bonus for long service, in 1928. See Milford to Brown, 3 Feb.,
1928, Walton Street Archive Strong Room “New York Branch—Officers—1901-1970” file.
60
Cumberlege to Milford, 10 Feb., 1928, Walton Street Archive Strong Room “New York Branch—Officers—
1901-1970” file.
61
Publishers Weekly, 29 Sept., 1945, p. 1558.
56
20
The intuition in Oxford was that the situation called for drastic retrenchment. The
Secretary, Chapman, saw “no course but for C. to lighten his debt[,] cut all avoidable expenses,
[curtail] his advertising drastically for say 6 months … and [postpone] any additions to staff.”62
Cumberlege was at first of course most urgently occupied with defensive measures.63 He
cut compensation. He edged out some senior figures and in effect replaced them with younger
and cheaper men. Others he simply fired. He also spent less on advertising, though there too
there were limits to what he felt he could do. But Cumberlege’s taking charge had a positive
aspect as well. He drew a sharp distinction between productive and non-productive
expenditure.64 He claimed to be not wasteful but very stubborn about maintaining the former.
(This showed up even in the employment totals.)
Table 3
Year
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
NYB Employment
101
109
120
118
123
He wrote to Oxford picturesquely but more importantly attempting to buy time and
perhaps more.
… I am economizing. The rising debt is horrible & as I said, my
economies are mere scratching with a toothpick. I can’t see us
‘breaking even or making a modest profit’ for another three years. …
The accounts shed very little light on the 1927 catastrophe—the
combination of circumstances, move, catalogue, music, and general
megalomania. I can’t see how we can get right without the money to
lay healthy foundations of what I feel must, as in other countries, be
the justification for this large organization, an Educational Department
publishing from existing material books designed to fit this market.
To me it seems now as though we must go forward along these lines or
shrink to our humble depository.”
Notes by Chapman, perhaps to Milford, 26 Jan. 1928, Walton Street Archive Strong Room “New York Branch—
Officers—1901-1970” file.
63
Cumberlege to Milford, 10 Feb. 1928, Walton Street Archive Strong Room “New York Branch—Officers—19011970” file.
64
For a later but very clear statement, see Cumberlege to Milford, 11 May, 1932, Walton Street Archive Strong
Room “New York Branch—Officers—1901-1970” file.
62
21
This did find some receptive ears among the Delegates. One wrote to Chapman that “[s]hutting
fown seems to me only conceivable if a particular branch showed no profit for, say, 4 years.”65
But even that individual felt that
What is behind some of our doubts is the question—is all the
overseas branches are doing the proper business of the University? I
suppose branches justify themselves in so far as 1) they spread light
and learning, 2) provide profits to finance unremunerative [i.e.
scholarly] books at home. … A critic might contend that NY or
Bombay are primarily … selling text-books and showing little or no
profit the game isn’t worth the candle.
Cumberlege’s measures in the late ‘twenties were painful but apparently successful. A
buoyant external economy cannot have hurt. The sterling loss for fiscal 1929 was down by twothirds from 1928 and only about one-fifth of the 1927 nadir. Dollar operating profits net of the
trademark transfers and the like were actually comfortably positive, nearly 2.6 percent of sales.
Even measured gross of such transfers, the situation was still not bad. The branch had gone from
a loss of $42,546 the previous year $3312 into the black. There was twice as much cash on hand
and in the bank. Bad debt recovery continued and accounts receivable were down. The branch
was still losing quite a lot of money (nearly forty percent of sales) on its modest Music business
and its loss was widening on its relatively small Medical Department.(13.4 percent, up from 5.5
the preceding year). But these together amounted to less than 15 percent of the business in 1929.
Bibles were 42 percent and in profit (albeit, at 1.5 percent on sales, at only about half the rate of
the previous year) and the Clarendon Press Department, at 44 percent, was solidly so (5.2
percent, down only a little from 5.4) The accounts seemed to be improving, indebtedness to
London notwithstanding, and the New York business seemed in the main to be moving forward.
Table 4
Year
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
NYB Employment
134
106
101
83
88
Indeed, viewed from the end of Fiscal Year 1929, the decade of the twenties had been
volatile but on balance rewarding. Milford himself, after noting the very large (and in his mind
apparently almost entirely incremental) sales of British product for which New York had been
responsible to date, summarized the recent period thusly.
Liddell to Chapman, February 18, 1928, Walton Street Archive Strong Room “New York Branch—Officers—
1901-1970” file.
65
22
Even if we take the last eight years (1922-1929) during which the
Branch has not been so prosperous, and we have all been anxious
about it, it has not done so very badly. During those eight years (I
begin with 1922 because that was the year of the first post-war slump,
and the first year for many years when the Branch did not pay any
dividend) the Branch has paid the Delegates £26,003 in dividends and
£41,255 in Trade Name Expense; has paid the London Business over
£600,000 for goods, £27,365 for interest, and £12,095 for services
rendered.
I think therefore that the Branch has thoroughly justified its
existence so far, from a financial point of view. From a broader point
of view, it has certainly assisted in the far wider diffusion of Oxford
books in the United States of America than would have been possible
by any other means.
All we owed in the United States as of 31 March 1929 was
£17,684 and £4,804 to certain employees of the Branch for their share
of the capital. There is therefore no danger to the Press from the
Branch, except that if the Branch were wound up, they might not be
able to pay the London Business (i.e. the Delegates as represented by
their publisher) for the amount which they owed it for books supplied
at 31 March 1930. They would certainly be able to pay back the
Delegates’ capital of £52,782 at par.66
Unfortunately, the OUP fiscal year ended on March 31. The summer and early autumn
were not bad; and these were always relatively slack seasons. There were grounds for
considerable hope going into the fall and the final quarter of the calendar year. But then trouble
really hit.
The Crash and Depression Times
The collapse in the American economy from October of 1929 hit the entire retail sector
hard, the book trade and the Oxford University Press not excepted. The facts at the New York
Branch were brutal; and as time went on for the first few years, they got only worse and worse.
Branch sales in FY 1930 were actually up slightly from the preceding year. (Perhaps books of
the sort Oxford sold made good Christmas presents that year, for one reason or another.) But
then the decline began: from just shy of a million and a half down to $1.2m the next year to less
than $900,000 the year after that. In the trough year of 1933, net sales were $653,721, a decrease
of nearly 55 percent from peak. In not one of these years was there a net profit.
The development of profits, as the years passed, was even more alarming than that of
sales. The small operating profit of 1929 melted into a substantial loss in 1930. The loss
roughly doubled in 1932. Profits were down another 15 percent in 1933 and another 3 percent
more in 1934. The losses as a percentage of sales grew large, 10.5 percent at its height. Even
Memorandum, Milford to Chapman, 27 June, 1930, Walton Street Archives GF 6/31 (“General Fund—New York
Reorganization”).
66
23
Bibles lost money in 1932 and 1933, with the loss as a percentage of sales reaching above 7
percent. (The Bible advertising budget had been cut by a third and that surely had not helped.)
The peak-to-trough reversal in overall dollar profits to this point was not as extreme as is
had been in the mid-twenties. But it was much more sustained; and the economy surrounding
the Branch was much more grim. There was, as managers and their overseers peered out into the
markets and beyond, looking for hints of prospective demand, much less grounds for hope of
change.
To understand the decision-making, it is important to see the situation beyond the
numbers. A Publishers Weekly editorial catches the spirits in the book trade well.”Nineteen
thirty-two has been the worst year that American business has ever recorded. When the year
began we thought that we had been suffering from a depression, but we now class 1930 and 1931
as comparatively bounteous years.”67 Cumberlege wrote
Throughout the country there has been such bankruptcy among
municipalities as there has never been before. New York City has had
the greatest difficulty in raising the funds to meet its payroll. Chicago,
Detroit, and Philadelphia are all virtually bankrupt. Wheat is selling
cheaper than sawdust. Cotton, too, is at the lowest point in history.
Coffee has been burned in bonfires and has been used as fuel in
furnaces.
It is in such a world that we are trying to sell books. A world
where over twelve millions of unemployed are being kept alive by
charity and where everyone lives in fear. Those who are employed are
always haunted by the thought that they will be the next to go. The
unemployed are in fear that they won’t get another meal. The rich fear
revolution.68
The general situation was, at least in the short run, profoundly discouraging. The
situation specific to the Press’s trade was not much better. Educational Department sales, for
example, were down by a third. Enrollments overall were down. Professors would not adopt
new editions where old ones would do. Students were living in part off funds budgeted for
books. Unsurprisingly given these last two, the second-hand market for textbooks was booming.
There was even edition piracy of ex-copyright texts such as the Oxford texts of poets like Keats
and Shelley. In other lines, department stores such as Macy’s were selling popular titles as loss
leaders, leading—it was thought—to widespread bankruptcies of New York area bookstores.
Brentano’s, the leading national chain, “is almost finished.” 69 It was a time of very great
difficulty.
Another recapitalization was required. The issues were past losses, the future of the socalled trademark expense cash flows, and providing the New York operations with adequate
”Where We Stand”, Enclosed in OS/I/3/1-2 with Memorandum from Cumberlege, 23 Jan., 1933.
Memorandum from Cumberlege, 23 Jan., 1933, OS/I/3/1-2.
69
Ibid. (Brentano’s did indeed go broke not long thereafter.)
67
68
24
capital for carrying on the business going forward.70 Nicholas Waterhouse, the OUP’s senior
point of contact with their London accountants, felt that the latter needed to roughly treble. This
last would not be a cash flow but rather yet another settlement of accounts with London.71 The
remaining private shareholders, really relics of a bygone era at this point, were bought out at par
(a possibility long-envisaged). The old corporation was wound up and New York operations
were re-incorporated, in part so as to avoid having to raise questions about the tax status of
interest and trademark expense charged as costs against the Branch’s gross profits in earlier tax
returns.72 Cumberlege had also suggested that New York buy from London on a cash basis or
three-month account only. This may have been partly to escape the psychological burden on
New York of laboring under the shadow of past debts. Waterhouse observed that it “would
check the tendency of the branch to order goods which may not be required and tend to keep the
stocks within measurable limits.”
Given the discussions and actions of the preceding decade, these developments naturally
led officers and the Delegates to consider their position vis a vis New York operations. There
were competing views. All seem still framed on the old terms. Some saw the declines in
revenue and the fixed costs. They wanted either quite radical retrenchment or outright exit:
going back to the model of an agency, perhaps even a London-based agency, to service such
American trade as there might be. The Oxford defenders of New York were mainly just more
equable. This was a bad down cycle but nonetheless just a cycle. The country was large and
growing; and it was fundamentally strong. Profitable conditions would return. The second
group had the upper hand. But as they saw it, New York’s was just a waiting game.
They did see this waiting game as one with upside. Chapman wrote
Difficult and embarrassing as the situation in New York is, in these
hard times, I am clearer than I have ever been that we ought to go on.
I am impressed by the growth of Oxford-American “contacts”. The
recent publication of a one-volume “text-book” edition of Morison’s
“Oxford” History of the USA may make a new era. That book may
not sell by tens of thousands; but such a book, if it does hit the market,
means something really big. The Rhodes connection, resulting in the
publication by us, in America, of Dr. Flexner’s book, which will be
“front-page news,” is another opening. A third is the Eastman
professorship (Professor Lowes has offered us a book—English rights
only, as it happens, because he is already engaged in USA). There will
be more and more of this kind of give-and-take, and I see in it great
Waterhouse to Milford, 9 July, 1930, Walton Street Archives, “New York 1897-1972” box, file “NYB Special
Notes 1918”.
71
Chapman commented in correspondence that “[t]he present accounts don’t show the real state of affairs because
they do not show the real amount of the Delegates’ investment. This is unfair to New York.” He added that the
trademark payments in particular were “burdensome and discouraging to the Branch when it is suffering under
difficulties the cause of which lies deeper than in any mere financial arrangements.” Chapman to ?, 6 Feb., 1931,
Walton Street Archives, “New York 1897-1972” box, file “NYB Special Notes 1918”.
72
Waterhouse document, 23 Jan., 1931, Walton Street Archives, “New York 1897-1972” box, file “NYB Special
Notes 1918”, relying on Price, Waterhouse, & Co. (NY) to Price, Waterhouse & Co. (London), 8 Aug. 1930, GF
6/31. The formal incorporation of Oxford University Press, New York was filed on 31 March 1931 i.e. at the end
of the fiscal year. The certificate of incorporation is in GF 6/31.
70
25
possibilities. To withdraw from active publication in New York (at a
time when Cambridge is taking steps to improve its position there—
Macmillan Co. have opened a “Cambridge Department”) would strike
our American friends as a retrograde step, and would gravely
embarrass our relations with English authors who look to America for
a substantial part of their sales.73
Cumberlege, on his part, fought with passion and, perhaps more importantly, with skill
and insider’s command of the facts. He fought on two fronts. In New York, the fighting
continued along what were by then painfully familiar lines. Some departments were
consolidated. The logic determining staff remained but the scale increased dramatically. He felt
very cautious about the fate to which he might be abandoning colleagues. Instead,
departmentalization considerations aside, there were broad-based cuts in compensation
amounting by 1933 to around 20 percent.74 Operations were hauled back in as much as could be
stood. Inventories were repeatedly considered and written down. Facts were faced. Bad debts
declined and recoveries increased.
London protected itself and the New York Branch’s debts to it declined steadily if they
did not disappear. But the losses were still losses to the Press overall. The question was what to
make of them: only from that could flow a considered notion of what to do.
Cumberlege mobilized vivid visual images.
… . The Branch’s history in the last six years may be likened to a
[hot-air] balloon. After a long period of fair weather, in 1926/27 it
came near to crashing. The next year the craft was lightened
considerably, and we were out of danger, as we thought. The
following year when all seemed well we ere struck by the sudden and
violent storm of depression. It started in October, 1929. Since then
the history of the voyage has been one of throwing the sand of expense
overboard while the balloon sails gently down into the danger zone.75
But he relied on basic business logic. The branch did not pose any great danger, he claimed.
It must be understood that the Branch pays all its bills promptly
and earns all the discount it can as a reward for its promptness; and it
also [now] has a large balance standing to its credit with the London
business, the result of remitting more money than it owes for the goods
it has purchased. That balance now stands at nearly £40,000. …. It
is also understood that the Branch is of real value to the whole
business, and that value ought to be examined and estimated.
….America must rise from its depression and while the Branch will
73
Chapman Memorandum for Finance Committee, drafted 25 Nov., 1930, GF 6/31 (underlining in original).
See Cumberlege to Chapman, 23 Sept., 1930, Walton Street Strong Room, NY Branch Staff—Officers-19011970” file: “I am cutting all salaries 5% from the office boy to me.”, also Cumberlege to Milford, 26 Jan., 1933, and
15 Feb., 1933, both Walton Street Archive OS/I/3/1-2.
75
“The American Branch in Brief”, May 1933, OS/I/3/1-2.
74
26
lag, it will nevertheless follow the upward move. As at present
constituted, it will be in a good position to take advantage and to make
profits or break even at least when the turn comes. Our stocks are low
and are priced low.
So long as the Branch continues as it is now, calling on nobody for
money and paying its bills, it is, I believe, profitable to the parent.
He proposed alternative courses of action if he was not to be allowed to proceed as he preferred.
But there was no doubt what the man on the spot thought the best course would be.
The Assistant Secretary in Oxford, the future Secretary Kenneth Sisam, had become a
chief nay-sayer. He had watched the worsening results and listened to the worried discussions in
Finance Committee and amongst the Delegates more broadly. He had himself become worried
and feared, increasingly, dithering. He waged his war by memo.76 His posture was consistently
skeptical, his suggestions ever more depressed. In terms of concrete proposals, for example, he
favored making New York into something like a mere depot and having the Press buy an export
house.77
Cumberlege replied point by point and gave no quarter. He began by observing that
“Oxford and London [have] always wanted, I suppose, a profit at both ends and it is seldom
possible to achieve that these days. For nobody who has any experience in publishing and
manufacturing can pretend that England has not been selling to America at a profit—sometimes
considerable.” He warmed to his theme.
For six years America shows a loss; how much that is real or
imagined can only be decided in England. There should be known
what profit is made out of America. Roughly, this can be examined
under the headings:
a. Prices charged to America v. cost, n.b. Sisam
Statement that extra copies for America cost a negligible amount to
produce.
b. 10% taxation on [Clarendon Press] goods handled by London
c. Services rendered by America for England
d. Written off stock for which America has assumed the loss and which
otherwise would have been London’s
Bearing these in mind, consider the situation you would have to
face if there was no American branch. … I doubt whether 5% of your
publications could be placed; those that would be sold by you in
editions of 250 and 500 sheets f&c at prices that would make you
shudder. … With luck you might get for sheets one-third the
published price. … The cost of hawking these books round would be
huge. ….
“I go back on nothing of what I have said [quoted in this chapter in extenso below] about the usefulness of N.Y. to
the whole business. But I don’t think it can go on as at present.” his memo of early 1933 began.
7777
Sisam to Milford, 3 April, 1933, OS/I/3/1-2.
76
27
He continues in this vein. They would have to cope with the expense of review copies and
precious few reviews. All the educational sales, which he estimated at half the Clarendon Press
sales, would go: “No Professor is going to adopt a book whose home is 3 to 6000 miles from his
University.” They would almost entirely lose the Christian Science, Bible, and India paper
business. And so on. In sum, Oxford must establish reasonably what the true loss is and can
then discuss the pro’s and con’s of the proposals to drastically reduce operations or even merge
with another publisher. Neither was, in his view, the best way of proceeding.
Cumberlege seemed, even on Sisam’s view of the question, to have the better answers.
But Cumberlege’s arguments went interestingly beyond Sisam’s framing of the questions. He
made three major points. The first was, as shown above and at last, to raise the transfer pricing
question. How seriously could the simple fact of losses in America be taken when the UK
operations had already taken their profits out of the transaction at least once before the goods had
even arrived in America? He disputed Sisam’s scenarios—who can tell at this remove which
were the more credible, though Cumberlege certainly by that point had superior knowledge of
the local clientele—and made quite plausible assertions about which expenses might safely be
trimmed and which would do irreversible damage. This led to his most powerful riposte, his
deepest argument. He in effect argued about option value.
Cumberlege made clearly and at length the point that even simply selling books at the
maximal possible level required investment in facilities, knowledge, and trade maintenance.78
Taking full advantage of the reputation value of the OUP’s reputation, he says, required more.
With proper editorial supervision, there was no more need to confine themselves to British
authors and British-commissioned works.79 There were increasing numbers of American
academics who could produce texts of the requisite standard; and American authors and editors
were far better placed to understand the needs of the American market. The real opportunity of
America, with all its size and growth in prospect, did not lie in hand-me-down products. There
was a great business to be had and it could be distinctively their business; but they would have to
build it. These might not be times for great plans. But they were times for laying foundations,
not destroying them. And even Sisam had taken this point early on. He had written in 1930
After a site visit
With the Bible [sales] still falling off, the Branch must not only
economize on present operations, but seek new sources of income.
The most desirable—even essential—is the building up of a series of
advanced educational books written by Americans and produced in
America. Only by this means can the close relation with the teaching
staff in universities and colleges be formed and maintained; and only
by means of a solid core of books that sell in quantity can the
Clarendon Press [i.e. scholarly] books be carried economically. The
policy of expansion in this direction involves expenditure. Its good
results would not be visible in the first few years, because the return
from educational books is slow. Nor would it have been successful
78
The number of travelers in 1935 was up to 12. See Publishers Weekly, 20 Jan., 1935, p. 427.
For an earlier version of the value of additional editorial staff, see Cumberlege to Milford, 11 May, 1932, Walton
Street Archive Strong Room “New York Branch—Officers—1901-1970” file.
79
28
under the old administration [i.e. the ex-Nelson’s men], which was not
adapted for selecting books. ….
I feel sure that mere economizing is not enough. There must be
more naturalization of the business in America, and its prospects
depend very much upon its becoming a publishing business there. ….
Nothing suggests that the immediate prospect is bright—rather it is
a time for strong nerves. Reorganization of the branch would have
been necessary even in normal times; but it was sheer bad luck for
Cumberlege to run at once into a disastrous and long-lasting trade
depression. I cannot see that profits should be expected—even with all
fair adjustments—in less than five years. The processes of healthy
recovery are very slow, and it would be an error to encourage New
York to make the best immediate showing without regard to sound
building up. But a concentration of effort in putting the Branch on a
sound footing—especially now that so much has been done—should
be a good investment for the future.80
Cumberlege won in the Finance Committee. Chapman reported that he and Milford
accepted Cumberlege’s general view.
…. We are clear that while the disastrous conditions prevailing
during most of his time in New York have compelled him to cut down
expenses drastically and so to restrict enterprise, he has at the same
time greatly improved the efficiency of the Branch and equipped it to
take advantage of any return of prosperity.81
His subsequent efforts came out well enough. He succeeded in making investments.
There were notable productions, including the first edition of Morison’s and Commager’s
Growth of the American Republic, whose seventh edition appeared nearly fifty years after its
first, and Lawrence’s translation of the Odyssey, the Press’s first entry onto American bestseller
lists.82 Sir Paul Harvey’s Oxford Companion to American Literature and the Shorter Oxford
English Dictionary also held promise. The losses fell sharply from 1933 to 1934. The Branch
turned a small profit in 1935 and one three times as large in 1937.
One set of investments in particular bears more extensive discussion. Cumberlege had,
as noted above, become convinced that the only hope for major sales growth lay in domestic
publishing oriented towards domestic needs and wants—particularly from the secondary and
tertiary educational institutions which existed in great numbers—and sourced from domestic
authors. He took advice from his longtime author Henry Steele Commager and increasingly felt
he needed staff. After a long and elaborate courtship, he hired as General Editor and Education
Manager Howard Lowry, a senior Midwestern English professor who would, after leaving the
80
Memorandum of Sisam of 4 Nov., 1930.
FC Minutes, 19 May, 1933.
82
See Cumberlege’s Memorandum of 23 January, 1933. The book “was one of the four leading sellers in the
country between November 25th, the day it was published, and Christmas. We sold 9000 copies in that one month
….”
81
29
Press, go on to appointments at Yale and Princeton.83 Lowry’s brief was to develop a list in
American history and literature. He devoted himself to this task, as did his successors, gusto and
enterprise. Soon there was a College Department to institutionalize the efforts.
Cumberlege also worked, in a critical fashion, on overheads. Even with domesticallysourced and manufactured works, these were at once the source and the impediment to profits.
They were in fact a problem for the whole of the New York publishing industry. He entered into
discussions with Longmans over how they might share certain common costs. The first proposal
struck the Delegates as giving away too much authority. A revised version was more clearly a
matter of sharing service and sales functions along with Manhattan groundrents. Longmans were
natural partners given the two firms’ product lines; but the motives were widespread. Doubleday
approached him during the period as well.84 In the end, a contract for a five-year alliance with
Longmans was drafted by the end of calendar year 1933 and after due consultation in due course
signed.85
As all these efforts proceeded, management tools improved. The accounts became more
illuminating and, thereby, useful. The 1935 accounts began to break out data by sources
(London and domestic among them). From 1937, the detail and extent of analysis grew much
more extensively. There was explicit, if terse, commentary for the first time. There were for the
first time tables giving the sources and uses of funds and ten-year retrospectives on profit-andloss accounts. There are less extended profit-and-loss histories on a departmental basis. There is
detailed analysis of advertising expenditure. Overheads are broken down by category and by
product line. Expenses are broken down into Salaries, Fixed, and Controllable. The terms may
not be entirely apt but the impulse is unmistakable.
There had been a formal change as well. Prompted less by any economic logic of New
York’s debts to London than by Cumberlege’s sense that managing New York and New York’s
bankers would be easier if its relations to London were rationalized, the New York branch was
reorganized as a New York corporation in 1936.
External events were mostly favorable from 1933 onwards and by the springtime of 1936
were positively helpful. The first recovery doubtless buoyed up general sales. NRA codes
threatened cost burdens; but the courts made short work of them. Even sales to public libraries
began to return. The second dip of the economy in 1938, when the Roosevelt Administration
lost its economic policy nerve, was not so helpful. Net profits dropped precipitously and there
was a final loss in Fiscal 1939. They were in the black again the following year. The substantial
debts to London of the beginning of the decade had been turned to surpluses. These were run
down to get the account onto something more like a current basis. .
Sales actually held up rather well. They were up every year on the predecessor from the
trough through the ending of the ‘thirties. Bible sales were a large part of this. The success of
the Book-of-the-Month Club in this period dispels any sense that there was no demand for
On Lowry, see Cumberlege to Milford 31 July 1934, in the Walton Street Archive Strong Room “New York
Branch—Officers—1901-1970”.
84
See Gundy to Milford, 19 June, 1933, OS/I/3/1-2.
85
The original is “Agreement between OUP NY and Longmans, December 29, 1933, in OS/I/3/1-2.
83
30
traditional leisure reading. But given the ongoing difficulty of the times, the Bible may also have
been a comfort. Certainly it pulled the Branch through.
Cumberlege had not wanted to stay in New York any longer than necessary; and he left
once he felt the Branch’s own crisis had past. After much casting about and a growing sense in
London and Oxford than an Englishman was required en poste, Paul Willert, the son of Sir
Arthur Willert (the Times correspondent in Washington 1916-1918) and a product of Eton,
Oxford, and stints with Ullstein, Hachette, and three years in production and editorial
departments in Heinemann’s, was sent out, officially as an assistant to Cumberlege, to act
officially as an assistant to Cumberlege and, increasingly obviously, as an understudy.86 With
the suicide in Bermuda the previous springtime of the distraught Secretary and Treasurer, the old
hand (and, indeed, old Nelson’s hand) William Roehrich, having someone the English felt
confident was sound on site seemed increasingly important.87 In 1936, Cumberlege went to
Amen House in London as assistant (and understudy himself) to Milford.88 Willert took his
place.
Willert went to war in 1939 leaving the Treasurer and in due course General Manager,
Henry Walck, who had been appointed in 1937 after previously working at Prentice-Hall and
before than Putnam’s, to act in his stead for the duration. The letter from Willert to Walck
announcing this has a curious leaving-the-nursery flavor to it, beginning that he had snatched a
day off “from the slums of London where my regiment is temporarily quartered,” observing that
“[t]here is no telling how long this war will last,” going on to remark that instructions were
probably not necessary but that “a few words concerning the policy that the Branch should adopt
during the war” might be helpful,” and coming to an emotional climax saying “During that time
you will have to regard yourself as independent and in collaboration with the other heads of
departments you will have to run the Branch entirely on your own. Of your ability to do this I
have never had any doubt and you will remember we discussed this possibility before I left in
July.”89 He had commented to one of those department heads the same day that “You might
question the wisdom of putting an accountant in charge of a publishing house.”90 Walck had
strengths as well as weaknesses. Time, and circumstances, would tell.
By 1939, trading was getting better once again. Neither the Branch nor Longmans were
enthusiastic about continuing the alliance. It had served a useful purpose in its time; but
Oxford’s private costings now made it seem at best a matter of indifference and more likely an
impediment to profit. Oxford gave the requisite six months’ notice in August; and with that the
Branch took full control of its fortunes once again.91
At the end of the ‘thirties net sales were up almost back to the level of 1929 and nearly
to that of the full boom 1928. Profits must have looked shaky; and the three-year trend was
86
Publishers Weekly, 10 October, 1936, p. 1508, and Milford to Chapman, 4 April, 1926, Walton Street Archive
Strong Room “New York Branch—Officers—1901-1970” file.
87
Cable Cumberlege to Milford, 4 May, 1934, Walton Street Archive Strong Room “New York Branch—Officers—
1901-1970” file.
88
See Cumberlege to Milford, 10 May, 1936, OS/I/3/1-2.
89
Willert to Walck 10 Sept., 1939, OS/I/3/1-2.
90
Willert to Vaudrin, 10 Sept., 1939, OS/I/3/1-2.
91
The calculation is given in Walck to Willert, 6, March, 1939, and the notice in Milford to Mills, 3 August, 1939.
Longman’s gracious reply is Mills to Milford, 11 August, 1939. All are in OS/I/3/1-2.
31
declining. But the loss that year was small. Perhaps it seemed that things would either get much
worse or start to get better once again. In the summer of 1939, this may have been a common
view.
Wartime and the Beginnings of the Long Boom
The scale of America’s mobilization, once it finally entered World War II, was
remarkable. From a standing body of about a quarter of a million men under arms throughout
the interwar period, the numbers ramped up rapidly and reached a peak of over twelve million.92
But soldiers, as it has often been remarked, spend a great deal of their time waiting; and though it
seems those still at home in general worked more, they seem to have read a good deal more too.
The requisite resources being available, this may in fact have been a good time to be an
American publisher. Resources were certainly available for devotional works. Branch sales still
depended on the Bible.93 Conditions were good for the New York Branch itself to have a good
war.
Some detail may be in order. Oxford had fears, but paper and binding materials were,
after some brief initial shortages surprisingly easily available domestically.94 Oddly, there also
seems to have been scope to benefit from the Arsenal of Democracy. The boats had to come
back from Britain and British industrial exports were of course limited. There was plenty of
room for books and indeed some quiet government encouragement towards their export.95 There
is no reference to excessive U-boat depredations.
The real potential challenge lay in human resources. The obvious problem was the draft.
Many of the staff were of draft age; and if maintenance allowances for dependents were
introduced, senior staff to the very top would also be vulnerable.96 Longtime and skilled
employees were sometimes summoned on even less than the standard two weeks’ notice.97 But
there were indirect problems as well. Favored industries paid over the odds for appropriate
employees.98 Sometimes Press employees were tempted; when so, the Press could not compete.
In some job categories, it was flat out difficult to keep employees very long.99 The government
could even requisition typewriters and in November of 1942 Walck expected to lose a quarter of
them.100
Such difficulties notwithstanding, the Press did well. Sales continued their late ‘thirties
rise. By 1945, they were more than twice their 1939 and 1940 levels. Profits also rose steadily,
1942 aside. This was partly a matter of economies of scale but had other sources too. During
the depression years, “we had spoiled our customers by giving them too much service, too long
92
Historical Statistics of the United States, detailed cite to follow.
Sisam to Milford, 26 March, 1942, OS/I/3/1-2.
94
On the fears (perhaps more on experience in the UK), see Sisam to Milford, 26 March, 1942, OS/I/3/1-2. On the
shortages followed by relatively unproblematic supply, see Walck to Milford, 7 May, 1942, OS/I/3/1-2.
95
Milford to Walck, 11 Sept., 1939, OS/I/3/1-2.
96
Walck to Milford, 30 March, 1942, OS/I/3/1-2. (See also Walck to Milford, 22 May, 1942, ibid.)
97
Walck to Milford, 25 Nov., 1942, OS/I/3/1-2.
98
Walck to Milford, 7 May, 1942, OS/I/3/1-2.
99
Walck to Milford, 25 Nov., 1942.
100
Ibid.
93
32
credit terms, etc.” and this was a good time to recoup. The profit figures for 1944 as well as
1945 were roughly five times the 1940 levels.
There were a number of executive transitions at the end of the War. Milford, with great
relief, finally felt able to retire. Cumberlege, now properly apprenticed in the London Business
as well as being the architect of the current establishments in India and New York, took
Milford’s place as Publisher. Back in New York, Walck was formally appointed Vice-President
i.e. head. Many old hands returned from the Army and were put back more or less into their old
jobs. In 1950, the transitions, recent and longer-term, were completed, perhaps mimicking
changes in the larger world, when New York came out from under London and began reporting
directly to the Secretary.
The internal organization in New York changed in this period as well. Rather against the
trend in large American businesses, structure shifted to a significant extent away from product
and towards function. The company girded up for the challenges of the post-war world.
There was good news and bad on the challenge front. The demand prospects were very
promising, not least because of the GI Bill’s subsidy to the further education of all those
returning soldiers.101 New York also published a number of broadly appealing publications, not
least the latter parts of Toynbee’s Study of History whose coverage by Time magazine gave
enormous free publicity.102 The abridged edition had sold 200,000 copies by 1948 and his
Civilization on Trial another 50,000.103
The bad news was that expansion cost money. The Branch was by this time quite
undercapitalized relative to the opportunities and unbalanced attention to this caused a small
crisis in the autumn of 1946.104 This exposed a larger problem for the Press post-war. Much
maintenance had been deferred during the war years.105 In various parts of the business, there
were crying needs for expenditure on physical capital. All this competed with demands from
publishing units wanting cash to invest in working capital. External borrowing by those units
where separately incorporated was not a simple solution. Lenders to the Press in Oxford might
take a dim view of increased risk. So might the University. Then there were New York-specific
problems. The UK Exchange Control authority might object to retaining all NYB profits in New
York. Worse, UK taxation was due on New York profits with or without dividends being paid,
so dividend retention to build up capital in New York would impose strains elsewhere in the
system. And the University was not minded “to relax its claim on us to produce unremunerative
books after so many years on which that primary purpose has had practically nothing.” Even
with good prospects, there would be capital constraints for some time.
All this said, the operating environment was very favorable. The widely predicted postwar consumption crisis never materialized. (In some respects, the problems were entirely
opposite i.e. tight conditions in factor markets and inflation.106) The Federal government
101
Cite for the GI Bill to come.
Cite for Time coverage.
103
“New York Branch” memorandum, November, 1948, OS/I/3/1-2.
104
See Walck to Cumberlege, 3 Oct., 1946, OS/I/3/1-2.
105
Sisam to Cumberlege, 30 Sept., 1946, and Sisam to Walck, 15 October, 1946, both OS/I/3/1-2.
106
Walck to FC, 28 June, 1948, OS/I/3/1-2.
102
33
suggested a policy goal of full employment. Closer to Oxford’s interests, the ex-GI’s went to
university in unprecedented numbers.107 Demand for textbooks inter alia soared.
By the early 1950s, the American publishing industry was feeling entrepreneurial. A
recent graduate of Columbia University persuaded his employer Doubleday to start a line of
trade paperbacks, in the first instance ex-copyright classics. Paperbacks were hardly unknown in
America; but this was a new field and the opportunities were great. The New York Branch was
particularly well-situated, since it had access to all material to which the Press overall held
copyright. Aside from potential demand from ordinary educated readers, all those university
courses involved reading lists. The Branch initiated Galaxy books, a paperback line, in 1956.
The Press’s publishing priorities were also shifting. There was a major investment in
science and more broadly incremental investment in texts for tertiary education. With a view
towards significant future growth, the Press abandoned the idea of running its warehouse
operation in New York City.108 After much consideration, a large property was purchased in
suburban Fair Lawn, New Jersey, in 1955 and a purpose-build facility of about 46,000 square
feet commissioned, the whole to cost about half a million dollars.
Troubles were, unfortunately, looming from Oxford’s perspective. It was felt that Walck
was losing his grip. (It was wondered in some quarters how much grip he had had.) A facesaving measure was conceived, in which the juvenile division, on which the Branch had been
losing money for years, was sold to Walck, who formally resigned in April, 1958, to run it.
Cumberlege had returned the previous November on an interim basis, on his own way out the
door, to hold the fort, have a look around and offer Oxford his advice, before the new man came.
John Brett-Smith was appointed President in September of 1958.
We might reasonably take bearings in the summer of 1959. Sales were up by about
twenty percent in the decade since the end of the war. Profits had declined in the constrained
post-war years and since been unsteady but were now climbing again. There had been obvious
problems early on. The nation had also passed through a troubled time in its internal politics and
the international situation seemed to many very grave. But to a publisher there was promise in
the air,
The Press had a good war. Unlike the American economy, however, it had not followed
up. Foundations were laid by the Branch in the following decade (accounting reporting forms,
title-wise information capture, the devolution of stock-keeping monitoring to operating divisions
so as to pointedly align incentives, increased diffusion, towards the end of the decade, of
financial and operating statistics to officers and department heads and increased emphasis on
planning (budgeting) the Branch’s future, less expensive and more easily expanded distribution
facilities, new Bible projects, and I suspect most importantly the Galaxy program)—all
productive investments—but many of these were costly (some in absolute terms, most at least
transitionally in requiring the development of new organizational routines). Never mind the
occasional failed initiative such as Essential Books, these successful ones were certainly not all
exploited (whence the persistent problems with inventory levels and the larger commentary
107
Numbers from HSUS and citation to come.
There had been discussion of this idea at least since Cumberlege’s “New York Branch” memo of November,
1948,OS/I/3/1-2.
108
34
about fixed costs). This failure led the Branch to do less well in absolute terms and also to fall
behind as others seized the day. In terms of results, the glass was always half full or half empty,
never more. Some years were good relative to their predecessor, some not so much. Often a
good year seemed to be a harbinger of general and soon to be ongoing progress. The Bible
Department still did a large and profitable trade (though its position relative to the market was, it
would emerge, declining). But the occasional best-seller or sale to the Book-of-the-Month Club
aside, trade results were only rarely very strong; and despite steadily growing undergraduate
enrollments post the end of the GI Bill ex-GI’s, the College business in the fifties somehow was
never persistently successful. The others were then, in the end, minor matters. By the end of the
decade, it was clear that management really didn’t have a grip. It seemed likely there was a grip
to be had—Cumberlege’s old arguments still made sense and other firms were doing well—but
Walck and his colleagues were not getting the job done. So Walck was basically fired.
Cumberlege came back briefly, on his way out the door, to hold the fort and take bearings closer
at hand while the new appointee prepared and arrived. As one New Frontier came to
Washington, so, it was hoped, another would come to the Press in New York.
When Cumberlege was in New York at the end, Roberts wanted to know how much of
the recent profits were real rather than merely nominal. (The answer to this was relatively
straightforward, about two-thirds.) How much of the increase in inventories was not so much a
problem as an inevitable artifact of the development of the college textbook trade? The ongoing
shortage of cash and pressure for profit retention was a pre-occupation, along with the expenses
of developing Fair Lawn. There were the slightest beginnings of curiosity concerning how other
at all comparable publishers were faring in this market.109
The following figures, a September 3, 1959, memo to Brett-Smith and the FY 1960
Treasurer’s Report, will be helpful in sizing up where the Branch actually stood. Net profits as a
percentage of working capital for Oxford and four competitive publishers over the middle part of
the 1950s had been as follows. (“N/A” means “not available”.)
Table 5
Year
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
Oxford
4.5
7.0
0.3
5.5
11.3
2.4
World
11.8
22.0
29.4
26.4
24.0
N/A
Wiley
6.4
11.4
11.6
17.5
18.5
N/A
Harpers
12.0
15.8
17.0
14.2
N/A
N/A
Macmillan
10.9
12.1
14.8
14.4
15.1
N/A
The return on stockholder’s equity of the Press in 1959 was 1.6 percent, 5.4 in 1960. The
comparable figures for a larger group of publishers was as follows.
109
Roberts to Cumberlege inside the cover of the 1959 Annual Report, Walton Street Archives..
35
Table 6
Book-of-the-Month Club, Inc.
The World Publishing Company
Henry Holt and Co., Inc.
Harper & Bros., Inc.
The Macmillan Co.
The John C. Winston Co.
Rinehart & Co., Inc.
John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
23%
11%
22%
9%
12%
14%
10%
13%
The origins of this were not far to seek. Oxford’s Bible sales compared to industry sales
looked like the following.
Table 7
Year
Oxford
Industry
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
100
90
90
97
101
99
99
96
100
98
89
101
106
109
111
120
Comparing Oxford’s non-Bible sales to those of American University Presses revealed the
following.
36
Table 8
Year
Oxford net
of Bibles
American
University Presses
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
100
93
98
98
117
128
122
135
100
102
108
118
131
151
174
202
The profile varied across New York departments. College and Medical together were also
behind by 1958 at 182 to 212. Religious were well ahead (229 to 158), albeit starting from a tiny
base. Galaxy, Music, Wholesale, and Trade were combined to make an aggregate comparable to
Trade elsewhere—there the comparison in 1958 was 146 to 159. The larger picture was clear
enough. The market was growing much faster than Oxford was. This is the source of the
relatively deficient return on stockholder’s equity. And the Oxford inventory trend revealed
quite clearly why they had recently felt pressed for cash. The following table gives the
percentage of current assets in inventory.
Table 9
Year
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
Inv/CA
64.2
60.6
64.6
64.6
64.6
64.6
64.6
64.6
64.6
64.6
37
There had been growth. The competitive position was not good. And operations were often,
particularly recently, constrained.
Expansion, Vigorous and Differently Troubled
The times then got even better from a publisher’s perspective once Brett-Smith arrived.
Krushchev’s “We will bury you”, with its image of economic as well as social competition, was
still ringing in the nation’s ears.110 Sputnik raised the national anxiety level about science and
engineering education; and the 1960 Presidential election campaign, with all its talk of the Cold
War and missile gaps, if anything made the situation worse. Not long thereafter, federal money
began to flow in support of education at all levels.
Brett-Smith himself seems to have left a light impression on the historical record. His
main initiatives seem to have concerned international sales of NYB books, his main concerns
British booksellers selling Clarendon books directly to American customers in times of
exchange-rate misalignment. He was clearly difficult to get along with and is thought to have
drunk increasingly. Contemporaries remember his private book collection; there were also
complaints about extended absences from the New York offices. Still and all, the numbers grew
and grew. Net sales were a bit more than $4M in the fiscal year before he arrived. They were
nearly $11m in 1970, nearly treble the sum. There had been some simply tremendous years, it
was felt, in between.
So the headline story of the decade is in the large one of overall expansion. Yet it was
certainly not without change. Despite new products and editions, which in themselves brought in
at least briefly lots of money and profits, Bibles basically ceased being the anchor of the
business, being displaced by books from Trade and Education. (These were at last riding
directly on the backs of college enrollments, which had been rising steadily and then grew
massively as the Baby Boom children went to college. Perhaps to an extent unnoted in
Treasurer’s Reports this was also a matter of the culture change going on in the background
which affected the book trade and retailing more broadly. Particularly in the second half of the
sixties, book-buying Americans were hungry for information and knowledge. ) These New York
businesses generally thrived, as did imports overall, one winter’s dock strike aside. Paperbacks
got into the black and, more broadly, extended production runs and gave a larger base for fixed
costs. Computers replaced punchcards (and, late in the decade, newer and more powerful
computers replaced earlier ones, by then more modest no matter how powerful and potentially
transformative those may have seemed at the time they were installed). All this sounds positive
and simple. But there was lots going on beneath.
These changes and this growth required a change in scale and organization of the
company, new facilities, and new equipment and routines. None of this was unproblematic,
either practically or financially; and increased competition (some ultimately from firms not
previously involved in publishing but trying to ride the college boom) made these problems
worse. The competition was not confined to product markets. There was notably increasing
competition for authors, visible in the accounts in advances. Returns were also both secularly
110
For the remark, see e.g. “Gruenther, Back, Replies to Soviet,” New York Times November 24, 1956, p. 3.
38
increasing and high by any standards by the end of the decade. Statements of sales by channels
first appear late in the decade. They show what may seem to be quite high levels of sales to the
wholesale trade and reflect in part changes under way in the infrastructure of distribution that
would come to be of some significance.111
Scope and efficiency of warehousing and processing operations were greatly enhanced by
the development of the facilities in Fair Lawn, New Jersey, well outside of the crowded and
expensive opportunities of the old venues in New York City. There were information
technology teething troubles of course, then as now, and demands for new skills as well as new
routines. Performance eventually improved; but aspirations emerged as a moving target. Univac
1004’s were replaced by 9300’s with eight times the power and only half again the cost. The
sense that the next challenge would be to make more efficient use of the record-keeping and
computational capacity now available was palpable.
In such circumstances, inventory control was at once a necessity and an ongoing
problem. The biggest strain of all was finding capital to finance operations. (The change in
reliance on customers for working capital is quite striking and got expensive.) The investments
in capabilities, realizing Cumberlege’s vision of the ‘thirties, had been made. But this wasn’t
enough: realizing the opportunities they afforded was an ongoing challenge.
The guns-vs.-butter inflation of the end of the decade, driven by the imperatives of the
Vietnam war and President Johnson’s sense of domestic political imperatives, was unanticipated
by the Press (and most of American business) and proved very difficult. It was particularly
difficult to the large extent that borrowed money was financing, via trade credit or directly,
working capital. Managing bank borrowings became discussed as frequently, and as carefully,
as expense management in Treasurer’s commentaries to the Annual Report towards the end of
the decade. Expenses rose faster than sales (in part because sale prices were not rising fast
enough--competitors raised theirs faster, so that, for example, College sales rose in parallel with
enrollments but by value the Press was losing market share.) As of 1969, the Branch was
reporting “profitless prosperity”; and pending projects such as the New English Bible would
require cash to launch.
Most of the growth since 1950 had happened in the 1960s, in particular the latter part.
The Branch had re-obtained some protection from US Federal Income taxation and this had been
extremely helpful in terms of profits and free cash. In the absence of this relief, what had been
difficult might have been, without directly expensive major borrowings or an indirectly
expensive capital infusion, simply impossible. Even with lower expectations of growth for the
coming decade, it was unclear whether things could go on in the general style they had been
recently without a major infusion of capital from somewhere. How the Branch would fare if the
economic environment were to decay in the immediate future—the early years of the 1970s, that
is—was completely unclear.
I could go on. (As I have been hinting, and as for only one example anyone who was an
adult or even an adolescent with a driver’s license in 1973 may have guessed, the material only
See Daniel Raff, “Wholesale History,” in “The Book Trade as an Industry,” three lectures delivered at the
University of Michigan in November, 2009 (typescript).
111
39
gets better.) But Volume III of the History concludes, for reasons concerning the New York
Branch only indirectly, in 1970; and so 1970 is a convenient juncture for this text to come to an
end. This might seem arbitrary and somehow depriving the narrative on offer of meaning and
shape. I hope that this has not been so, that the history as I have laid it out, framed and
expounded as suggested in the opening lecture, has emerged with plenty of meaning and shape,
just meaning and shape of a different character. It has been, to be sure, different from a Whig
account in its content, its focus, in its sense of an ending, and in the sense the reader makes,
looking back, of its course as well as of its ending. Yet I think it does convey vividly a sense of
the evolution of the business. It has not even been without characters, incident, and a sense of
something like character development. It could, in short, be a novel, just like traditional
historical narrative. But unlike a Whig historical narrative, I am arguing, this would be a novel
which is truer to the experience it describes. I say this feelingly contemplating an audience and
occasion just twenty-odd kilometers from Weimar.