“That is an important matter,” he replied, “and no professional man should discuss it hurriedly or carelessly. I have some pressing calls to make (this was a whopper) and haven’t the time to spare just now, but I’ll be delighted to give you my views within a few hours.”
This was acceptable, so the doctor went to a friend’s library, read up on the subject as thoroughly as he could in such a short time, and a few hours later was back in the editorial sanctum. Here he talked so well that the editor said:
“By Jove, doctor. That’s the kind of stuff I want. Can’t you write it out for me? I’m afraid to trust a reporter, as there would be a risk of getting it muddled. I’ll give you a good stenographer to dictate to.”
Barkis, which in this case was the doctor, was willing. He dictated the matter, and the next morning was paraded on the first page in big type as “the eminent Dr. ——”
His fortune dated from that day. Patients came in by the score. His newspaper friend had occasion to call on him frequently for information on current medical topics, and he was in print so much that his name was on everybody’s tongue. That was fame, and a kind of fame that brought wealth.
This particular medic had the gift of a real bunko artist. He knew how to keep the good thing moving, and to “con” the city editor who thought he was above being caught.
“Really, my dear Mr. ——,” the doctor would say when asked by phone for a statement, “really I’m too busy to do the subject justice, but I can’t refuse you. Send a stenographer over and I’ll dictate something. By the way, the _World_ and the _Express_ both wanted something but I had to turn them down.”
Did the city editor appreciate this favoritism? He certainly did, and saw to it that the doctor got all there was coming in the way of double leads, scare heads, and top of column positions.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
While the kind of publicity outlined in the preceding chapter is valuable and will make a man famous in his own city, it takes a long time to reach the people in outside territory. It is a peculiar fact that in medicine, as well as in other things, “distance lends enchantment.” The person afflicted with a chronic ailment who lives in the same town with a physician who has become famous for his successes in that line, is more apt to postpone his call for relief than one who lives at a distance.