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The television pictures were aired within the hour, and the radio waves were filled with details of the wanton destruction. News services around the world printed the story, and they all carried the theme of the vicious employees who had turned on the hand that fed them. It was a public relations triumph for the Phoenix Star.
Leslie had prepared well. Earlier, she had secretly sent some of the Star's executives to Kansas to learn how to run the giant presses, and to teach nonunion employees cold-type production. Immediately after the sabotage incident, two other striking unions, the mailers and photoengravers, came to terms with the Star.
With the unions defeated, and the way open to modernize the paper's technology, profits began to soar. Overnight, productivity jumped 20 percent.
The morning after the strike, Amy was fired.
On a late Friday afternoon, two years from the date of their wedding, Henry had a touch of indigestion. By Saturday morning, it had become chest pains, and Leslie called for an ambulance to rush him to the hospital. On Sunday, Henry Chambers passed away.
He left his entire estate to Leslie.
The Monday after the funeral, Craig McAllister came to see Leslie. "I wanted to go over some legal matters with you, but if it's too soon - "
"No," Leslie said. "I'm all right."
Henry's death had affected Leslie more than she had expected. He had been a dear, sweet man, and she had used him because she wanted him to help her get revenge against Oliver. And somehow, in Leslie's mind, Henry's death became another reason to destroy Oliver.
"What do you want to do with the Star?" McAllister asked. "I don't imagine you'll want to spend your time running it."
"That's exactly what I intend to do. We're going to expand."
Leslie sent for a copy of the Managing Editor, the trade magazine that lists newspaper brokers all over the United States. Leslie selected Dirks, Van Essen and Associates in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
"This is Mrs. Henry Chambers. I'm interested in acquiring another newspaper, and I wondered what might be available..."
It turned out to be the Sun in Hammond, Oregon.
"I'd like you to fly up there and take a look at it," Leslie told McAllister.
Two days later, McAllister telephoned Leslie. "You can forget about the Sun, Mrs. Chambers."
"What's the problem?"
"The problem is that Hammond is a two-newspaper town. The daily circulation of the Sun is fifteen thousand. The other newspaper, the Hammond Chronicle, has a circulation of twenty-eight thousand, almost double. And the owner of the Sun is asking five million dollars. The deal doesn't make any sense."
Leslie was thoughtful for a moment. "Wait for me," she said. "I'm on my way."
Leslie spent the following two days examining the newspaper and studying its books.
"There's no way the Sun can compete with the Chronicle," McAllister assured her. "The Chronicle keeps growing. The Sun's circulation has gone down every year for the past five years."
"I know," Leslie said. "I'm going to buy it."
He looked at her in surprise. "You're going to what?"
"I'm going to buy it."
The deal was completed in three days. The owner of the Sun was delighted to get rid of it. "I suckered the lady into making a deal," he crowed. "She paid me the full five million."
Walt Meriwether, the owner of the Hammond Chronicle, came to call on Leslie.
"I understand you're my new competitor," he said genially.
Leslie nodded. "That's right."
"If things don't work out here for you, maybe you'd be interested in selling the Sun to me."
Leslie smiled. "And if things do work out, perhaps you'd be interested in selling the Chronicle to me."
Meriwether laughed. "Sure. Lots of luck, Mrs. Chambers."
When Meriwether got back to the Chronicle, he said confidently, "In six months, we're going to own the Sun."
Leslie returned to Phoenix and talked to Lyle Bannister, the Star's managing editor. "You're going with me to Hammond, Oregon. I want you to run the newspaper there until it gets on its feet."
"I talked to Mr. McAllister," Bannister said. "The paper has no feet. He said it's a disaster waiting to happen."
She studied him a moment. "Humor me."
In Oregon, Leslie called a staff meeting of the employees of the Sun.
"We're going to operate a little differently from now on," she informed them. "This is a two-newspaper town, and we're going to own them both."
Derek Zornes, the managing editor of the Sun, said, "Excuse me, Mrs. Chambers. I'm not sure you understand the situation. Our circulation is way below the Chronicle's, and we're slipping every month. There's no way we can ever catch up to it."
"We're not only going to catch up to it," Leslie assured him, "we're going to put the Chronicle out of business."
The men in the room looked at one another and they all had the same thought: Females and amateurs should stay the hell out of the newspaper business.
"How do you plan to do that?" Zornes asked politely.
"Have you ever watched a bullfight?" Leslie asked.
He blinked. "A bullfight? No..."
"Well, when the bull rushes into the ring, the matador doesn't go for the kill right away. He bleeds the bull until it's weak enough to be killed."
Zornes was trying not to laugh. "And we're going to bleed the Chronicle?"
"Exactly."
"How are we going to do that?"
"Starting Monday, we're cutting the price of the Sun from thirty-five cents to twenty cents. We're cutting our advertising rates by thirty percent. Next week, we're starting a giveaway contest where our readers can win free trips all over the world. We'll begin publicizing the contest immediately."
When the employees gathered later to discuss the meeting, the consensus was that their newspaper had been bought by a crazy woman.
The bleeding began, but it was the Sun that was being bled.
McAllister asked Leslie, "Do you have any idea how much money the Sun is losing?"
"I know exactly how much it's losing," Leslie said.
"How long do you plan to go on with this?"
"Until we win," Leslie said. "Don't worry. We will."
But Leslie was worried. The losses were getting heavier every week. Circulation continued to dwindle, and advertisers' reactions to the rate reduction had been lukewarm.
"Your theory's not working," McAllister said. "We've got to cut our losses. I suppose you can keep pumping in money, but what's the point?"
The following week, the circulation stopped dropping.
It took eight weeks for the Sun to begin to rise.
The reduction in the price of the newspaper and in the cost of advertising was attractive, but what made the circulation of the Sun move up was the giveaway contest. It ran for twelve weeks, and entrants had to compete every week. The prizes were cruises to the South Seas and trips to London and Paris and Rio. As the prizes were handed out and publicized with front-page photographs of the winners, the circulation of the Sun began to explode.
"You took a hell of a gamble," Craig McAllister said grudgingly, "but it's working."
"It wasn't a gamble," Leslie said. "People can't resist getting something for nothing."
When Walt Meriwether was handed the latest circulation figures, he was furious. For the first time in years, the Sun was ahead of the Chronicle.
"All right," Meriwether said grimly. "Two can play that stupid game. I want you to cut our advertising rates and start some kind of contest."
But it was too late. Eleven months after Leslie had bought the Sun, Walt Meriwether came to see her.
"I'm selling out," he said curtly. "Do you want to buy the Chronicle?"
"Yes."
The day the contract for the Chronicle was signed, Leslie called in her staff.
"Starting Monday," she said, "we raise the price of the Sun, double our advertising rates, and stop the contest."
One month later, Leslie said to Craig McAllister, "The Evening Standard in Detroit is up for sale. It owns a television station, too. I think we should make a deal."
McAllister protested. "Mrs. Chambers, we don't know anything about television, and - "
"Then we'll have to learn, won't we?"
The empire Leslie needed was beginning to build.
