To: The Lucile Project Home Page
To: Index page for Reviews of Lucile

"Wanted – A Book for Every Man Over There”.
An interview with an overseas dispatch agent, by H.H. Moore, of the Outlook Staff.
Outlook October 16, 1918, p250.

"WE have sent about seven hundred thousand books to our men overseas. We need a million more to supply every man with a good book to read in his leisure time.”

The speaker s words were emphatic. Then, relaxing, with an engaging smile, he leaned back against the bar of his book saloon.

“Yes," he said, "I call this my book saloon. It is the fourth beer saloon we have taken over and devoted to a better business."

The p1ace had indeed been a cheap liquor saloon, and the long, battered bar, with its well-worn foot-rail was still in evidence amid the piles of books. There had as yet no time to remove it. Why the American Library Association had chosen to house itself in these erstwhile saloons I did not particu1arly inquire, but rumor has it that Hoboken, New Jersey, the scene of these activities, has long been oversupplied with saloons, especially by the waterfront, and that mi1itary regulations forced some of them out of business, with resulting benefit to literature.

Here then, to these book sa1oons come from all over the United States books and magazines that are to go overseas to our soldiers and sailors. The scene is an interesting one. In one room porters were busily engaged in nailing up the boxes of books that are to entertain and instruct our men overseas.

"How do you get these books?” I asked.

"In two ways,” answered my informant, who, let me say, was the Association's Despatch Agent, Mr. Asa Don Dickinson, well known as a librarian and an authority on matters connected with books. “We have a fund, or what is left of it, raised a year or so ago. With this we buy new books."

"What new book is the most popular among the soldiers?" I asked.

“This none"—pointing to a sma1l volume bound in boards. It was the "Non-Commissioned Officer's Manual," by Colonel James A. Moss. A great many ambitious men in the ranks, it was explained, went to this book for the information it gives about getting up higher.

“Doesn't the Government furnish the soldiers with any books about their duties? I asked.

“No; the Government trains the men; it leaves them to get their own books," was the reply. “Other books in demand are helps toward learning French; manuals of instruction about machine gunnery; books about submarines, about automobiles, about electricity, and so on. Some of these are expensive, but we have to buy them."

"Do the publishers treat you fairly when you buy these books?"

“More than fairly. They sell them to us in most cases at cost. And the booksellers treat us fairly too."

“What dealings do you have with booksellers?”

"Well, that question brings me to our second source of supply. From all over the country we receive donations of old books. Most of our books come to us in this way. People 1eave their gifts at their local libraries, and they are forwarded to us free of freight. Then we have to sort them out. Some of the books are too bulky for circulation. These we dispose of to the booksellers and buy others. Then, again, we get some ‘first editions.' It's a curious fact that there is a craze just now among collectors for first editions of O. Henry's stories. The other day I sold one of these books, that some one sent in, for thirty dollars! With that I could buy a whole lot of copies of the later editions of Henry's stories.”

“What kind of books do our men want besides those you have named?” I asked.

“Good fiction – stirring stories of adventure. They want to be amused. A certain proportion of the men are studious and want serious books, but the majority require amusing fiction that will take them out of their surroundings, especially when they are in hospitals. What kind of fiction? Well, there is a great demand for stories by Zane Grey, by Jack London, and by Rex Beach. Do we receive many of these? Yes; and most of the fiction sent is of the better class. You can look over a box and see for yourself.”

I glanced over the titles of the top layer in a box. These boxes, by the way, are strong and well made, and so ingeniously constructed that after opening them they may be placed on end and used as a book shelf or shelves – a sort of portable library. The titles I read were these:

Rupert of Hentzau, by Anthony Hope; The Last of the Mohicans, by Cooper; Tom Brown at Oxford, by Thomas Hughes; The Circular Staircase, by Mary Roberts Rinehart; Black Rock, by Ralph Connor; The Inside of the Cup, by Winston Churchill; A Study in Scarlet, by Doyle; Four Millions, by O. Henry; The Way of a Man, by Hough; Going Some, by Rex Beach; Betrayal, by Oppenheim; His Grace of Osmonde, by Frances H. Burnett.

A pretty good selection, I thought.

“Western stories, detective stories, novels of adventure – these are what we want, and we can't have too many of them. I could trade a lot of other books for the ones like these.”

“What books would you trade? I inquired.

“What book do you think comes to us in greatness number?” asked Mr. Dickinson in turn. “I defy you to guess.”

“Robinson Crusoe” I hazarded.

“No. We get more copies of ‘Lucile,' by Owen Meredith, than anything else. I send out some of them, but the soldiers appetite for that sort of thing is soon satisfied.”

…..

-END-