PRINT SOURCE: Thomas Raddall Fonds, Correspondence. From Thomas Raddall to William Deacon, 24 March 1953. MS-2-202 39.43.
Subject HeadingsIn a confidential letter to William Deacon, Toronto literary critic and journalist, T. H. Raddall asks for Deacon's opinion on the business abilities of the Toronto publisher, McClelland and Stewart. Raddall then itemizes why he is beginning to doubt them and cites reasons for his dissatisfaction. Their ineffective marketing for The Nymph and the Lamp and their unfair levying of publisher fees on the subsidiary rights to anthology and book club publication of his work were especially irksome. In contrast, Raddall notes that he enjoys working with Stanley Salmen of Little, Brown and Co. of Boston. He concludes with a colourful description of his meetings with John McClelland and George Stewart in 1946.
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March 24th, 1953 Dear Bill, Forgive me for bothering you again so soon, but you are one of the few who know what really goes on in the Canadian publishing business, and the only one I can approach on a confidential basis to find out what is what. What is the opinion in the trade regarding McClelland & Stewart? M & S have been my Canadian publishers from the start, simply because they were then tied in with Doubleday, who published my first novel in the USA. M & S made a big fuss over me when I went to Toronto in '46, but I soon perceived from old John's conversation that it was all due to the impending rupture with Doubleday and the fear that I might switch my Canadian publishing to Doubleday's new Toronto branch. He (and one after another of his staff) informed me in solemn accents that Doubleday was a cold materialistic firm who thought of nothing but the dollar, that I was only a second-string author with them, and that I would be much better off with another American firm, preferably Little Brown, with whom M & S were making their new tie. I was non-committal but I had my own chilly impression of Doubleday and eventually I switched to Little Brown. I like Little Brown, not least because I like Salmen,1 who goes to the trouble to come up here and see me from time to time, a thing that never occurred to any of Doubleday's people. Also I like the way he does business -- a quick intelligence, a straight opinion, a mind combining culture with business acumen -- something rare amongst publishers. But I've begun to wonder about M & S. They fell down badly on the sales of The Nymph in Canada, although Little Brown made a best seller of it in the USA and it has sold well in half a dozen other countries. (It has sold, in hardback and softback editions, over 430,000 copies to date, of which M & S sold about 7,000.) Compare this with Canadian sales of 11,500 for Roger Sudden and over 15,000 for Pride's Fancy. It looks to me as if the firm was slipping. When I was in Toronto in '46 Bob Nelson was their top office man, indeed old John was training Bob to take his place, for at that time young Jack showed no signs of wanting to step into his father's shoes. All that has changed, and now Nelson, together with Foster and Scott (the two best salesmen M & S had) have quit and formed a publishing company of their own.2 All this makes me wonder about the future prospects of M & S. I have the distinct impression of an old firm gone to seed -- perhaps I'm quite wrong. Old John always seemed to me far too interested in the immediate dollar to see much beyond. There have been various small things that irritated me. For example, whenever someone printed an anthology or a schoolbook containing something of mine previously published by M & S, old John saw to it that M & S retained 50% of the fee.This was quite legal, according to their contract with me; but these sums are always small and it seemed to me a niggardly procedure. Again, M & S tried to cut themselves in for 10% ("agents' fee") of Reader's Digest Book Club royalties on Canadian sales, although the arrangement had been made by Little Brown and M & S had not lifted a finger. I objected strongly and the matter was dropped, but this kind of cheese-paring annoys when I reflect on the feeble effort M & S put behind their own edition of The Nymph. It's so easy for them to put out a cautious first edition of a book and then sit back waiting hopefully to see the book become a best-seller on the reflected glamor of the American advertising -- and to cut themselves in for a fat half of the subsidiary rights. Lately however young Jack has been sending me various school- book, anthology and other subsidiary fees (e.g. for the Canadian TV rights in Roger Sudden3) paid to M & S for settlement with me, and without deducting the usual pound of flesh. Perhaps he's seen the light. Here's an amusing sidelight on my visits to Toronto in '46. I was there twice, that summer and autumn, as you know. On both occasions I was entertained several times at George Stewart's home. He is, or was, the hearty hail-fellow-well-met, the back-slapper of the firm. I dislike that type as a rule but I enjoyed old George. The only conversations I had with old John were in the office, where he invariably launched into a diatribe against Doubleday. I was not invited to his home. Foster explained to me diffidently that Mr. M. did not approve of liquor and that Stewart was left to do the personal entertaining because I drank. Well, so I do, but I can spend a happy evening without the stuff -- I go for weeks without it and never care a damn -- and I'd have been quite satisfied to sit down with a glass of milk in old John's home if he had anything interesting to say. My impression was that he'd never had much contact with authors and thought they all wore horns and a tail. Even Foster said to me, at the close of that strenuous speaking tour, "You know, you're not what we expected. You seem quite normal -- for an author." P.S. If for any reason you don't wish to comment on my query let it go. If I don't hear from you I'll understand. |
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