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HomeMy WebLinkAbout1977-05-01 Publishing Giant Leaves His Paperback Empire (Palm Beach Post)Publishing Giant Leaves His Paperback Empire By MARGO HARAKAS Post Staff Writer George T. Delacorte is a living history of 20th Century publishing in this country. He started with pulp magazines back in the '20s, pro- gressed to paperback books (which in those days weren't necessarily viewed as progress), and went on to put out hardcover books as well. From an initial investment of $4,- 000, Delacorte' created Dell Publish- ing Co., an empire snatched up last year by Doubleday & Co. for a rumored $35 million in cash. "I never really sat down and de- cided to sell," said the small, hawk- ish -looking fellow, who though in his 80s still plays tennis nearly every day and looks over at least five books a week. "There were just so many conglomerates getting into the business." Like the motion picture industry, individuals in publishing were falling to the massive corporate powers. Pocketbooks succumbed to Gulf and Western, Avon to Warner Communi- cations, Fawcett to CBS. "I just figured why should I take such big chances at this point in my life," said the man who splits his time between Lost Tree Village, New York and Connecticut. The whole kit and caboodle of pub- lishing interests may have gone, but not the memories: the intimate behind -the -scene glimpses of the publishing game, the writers who don't write, the ones who drink too much, and those who worry whether the spark has waned. Grace Metalious was all three. Flip the pages back to the '50s : Re- member "Peyton Place"? That tome was the work of Everyday Housewife (well, almost) Grace Metalious. "Grace's husband was a public school teacher in New England. She was also also a housewife. She was a natural-born storyteller, who, when she hung out the clothes on the line would keep her neighbors in stitches with the stories she told. "Well, she wrote this book about all of her neighbors and Dell bought it (the reprint rights) for practically nothing, about $5,000, I think," De- lacorte said. "It became an enor- mous success, the movie rights were sold and that too was a hit." But Metalious apparently was a lucky -hit writer. She had one book in her and that was all. Dell, knowing it had a good thing going, suggested Metalious write a sequel, "The Re- turn to Peyton Place." "She couldn't write the book," Delacorte recalled. "She tried. But it was a dismal fail- ure." Finally Dell got together with the producers of the film and they came up with the writers to do the book. Metalious' name went on the work of course. "We brought her to New York, p her up at the Plaza where she me all the literary people in town," De- lacorte said. "But she was an ig- norant girl. She never heard of Vic- tor Hugo, I'm sure. And Shakes- peare was only a name she probably heard in school once. She couldn't write. And she certainly couldn't spell. She'd spell said `sed' and little with one `t'." But "Return" came out and every- body, including Metalious, made money. "Then she started to drink, begin- ning with brandy for break- fast," Delacorte said. "She decided the problem was she had never slept with anyone but her husband. The rumors were she went to bed with everyone, even the bellboys in the hotel." A third book was being kicked around, again to be ghostwritten, when Metalious contracted hepatitis and died shortly thereafter. "She died from her own success," De- lacorte said. "You get fooled," he said. "You think you have a good writer and you find out they're either one shot or they burn out." Dell had one prolific fellow who Turn to DELACORTE, C2 Staff Artwork by Sharon Roberts George Delacorte's Career Touched by Vonnegut, Disney, Haley C2—Palm Beach Post -Times, Sunday, May 1, 1977 31: Delacorte used to turn out a detective story every three months. Then suddenly, he dried up. "We hired a ghostwri- ter and the original author would get postcards saying how much they en- joyed his later books. The fellow eventually drank himself to death." He got. a good price for his name, "He really held us up," De- acorte laughed. No bitterness there. `It was his name. He could sell it )r what he wanted." 4Ironically, Delacorte said, your ggest successes are sometimes our failures, too. The minute the Nixon transcripts were released, both Dell and. Bantam rushed to t print. Within a week, their books were on the street. "It did tremendous for the first t three or four weeks," Delacorte said. "You couldn't keep them on c the shelves. When the retailer couldn't get them from his wholesal- s er, he'd go to a broker and a general t distributor, and we wound up with 1 three orders for the same copies." The orders came in, the presses d churned, then there was a screech- ing halt. "It just died. Dead," De- P lacorte said. "Both Bantam and Dell sold 1.5 million copies each. But we c both lost money because it just sud- denly died." There's just no telling which are h going to soar and which are going to flounder, Delacorte said. Even a e lousy book can make it, he said. E "Look at that one by Joyce Haber. A It's a terrible book. Almost unread- able. But look how long it's been on 1 the best-seller list." c An author with a personality can w do a lot to boost sales, primarily via the tube. "I remember the first diet r book we put out by Dr. Stillman," e he laughed. Delacorte didn't think m too much of the diet, and it was zl highly controversial. "But we sold 7 p million." a The biggest thing they had going for them was Stillman himself. "He p wasn't an interesting person, but he f was a character," Delacorte said. T "He performed well on television, so c he kept being asked to appear on the talk shows." ch He apparently had a great lip. The in more he talked, the more his books ( sold. $1 One of the best books Delacorte ever ran across was one that never of happened. It was the love letters of vi Eldridge Cleaver. "We published by 'Soul On Ice'," Delacorte said. "It bo made over a million dollars." pu The book was an angry, screaming sai indictment of whites, written as De- bo lacorte puts it, "with hate and ven- om• " tri Well, it just so happened that a h Jewish female attorney met Cleaver bo when she was visiting the jail one bi day. Intrigued by him, she became a his frequent visitor. "She fell in love ca with him and worked like hell for his release," Delacorte said. Pe Love letters passed between the of two. "They were divine," he said ye "like the letters of Abelard and He- ye loise." ag The Black Panther leader — cat preacher of violence — was a ten- I der, sensitive verbal lover. De- big lacorte wanted to print the letters, De but Cleaver wouldn't give his per- Ku mission — for a very good reason. clas In his book, Delacorte said, Cleav- lac er was particularly vociferous an against popular black figures who Vo marry white women. "Eldridge de- we cided, therefore, he couldn't marry this Jewish woman. He left her and ers we never did get his permission to he publish the letters. To show he was to so desperately in love with a white woman would nullify all he had said and written." Ironically, three of the letters were published in "Soul On Ice." In the chapter headed "Prelude to Love — Three Letters," the woman is identified as Beverly Axelrod, now a San Francisco attorney. No mention is made that Mrs. Axelrod is either Jewish or white. The let- ters were sent in 1965 while Cleaver was in Folsom Prison. Out of the business now, Delacorte skims maybe five books a week, reading one thoroughly. But he reads hem like a producer or playwright viewing another's play. "I read the irst chapter, I dig around here and here. I analyze whether it will sell or not, and why. It's habit. You be- ome a perfectionist about the art." The business is not the same, he aid. "I think the ability to go into he publishing business the way I did s a thing of the past." Back then, it was a business that idn't require too much capital. "You hired a printer, bought some aper, got a few articles together, and if you had the gift of gab, you ould manage to get credit." Delacorte, whose parents both were attorneys, was in his 20s when e started out with a thing called, `Sweetheart Stories," which he edit- d himself. These were romantic nglish tales "translated into the merican language," which meant he postmistress who lived in the vil- age and married the duke's son be- anie the stenographer in the city ho married the boss' son. When the public appetite for pulp omance and adventure became sat- d, the presses began spewing out ovie magazines, crossword puz- es and comic books. Woody Wood- ecker, Donald Duck, Porky Pig — 11 stars in the Dell stable. At one time, Dell was the largest ublisher of this kind of juvenile are. Over 300 million a year before V killed it all with its animated artoon capers. "We published all the Disney aracters," Delacorte said. "bur- g the hard times, we kept him Disney) in business. We paid him 0,000 a month in royalties." Then in the '40s, Delacorte struck f on a new adventure. A frequent sitor to Europe, he was fascinated the low-priced, paperbound oks. "Most books in Europe were blished first in paperback," he d. "If you liked it, you then had it und." The problem in the States was dis- bution. Book sellers didn't want to andle these bastardized magazine- oks. But because Delacorte was a g magazine publisher, he nudged wholesalers to add the new publi- tions to their stock. They popped up in drug stores, su- rmarkets, and the biggest outlet all — train terminals. Within 10 ars, the breakthough came. A few ars later, Delacorte branched out ain, this time in hardcover publi- ions. t was he who signed some of the gest names ever published by 11 — Irwin Shaw, James Baldwin, rt Vonnegut. Vonnegut's icono- tic attitude appealed to De- orte. He is an unusual writer and equally unusual man. The first nnegut title published by Dell nt over the top. He had worked for other publish - before us," Delacorte said, "but was never successful till he came Dell. He was able to buy himself • a house, which he did — next door to our office so he could watch his money come in." To be sure, there were lots of mis- takes along the way. "Some cost millions," Delacorte said. He admittedly blew "The Godfa- ther" project. Dell had the reprint rights sewn up. But when, as part of the deal, the hardback publisher tried to push on Dell a second book Delacorte thought stunk, he told Available in Saddle Tan, Black & Cordovan. From Cl them "what they could do with it." History now tells us "Godfather" so:1 something like 14 million copies. The first to run Xaviera Holland- er, prostitute -turned -author, Dell made a nice profit off her first book, but cooled when she wanted to come out with a second. Another company moved in and issued three or four more money-makers under her name. WITH WHEELS 20% OFF RETAIL! Melon, Avocado, Lt. 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It's a big money business today — publishing. And a lot of it is a gam- ble. "In the early days of paper- backs, when they sold for 25 or 35 cents, the amount you paid the ori- Turn to DELACORTE, C3 GIFT I -I -ER WITH - LOVE! Mother's Day, May 8th SUNDRESSING WITH RUFFLES SIZES 14'/2 to 241/2 Remember Mom, Wife or someone else who's mighty special to you. Floral prints always look fresh and crisp. Light and airy polyester/cotton ruffled sundress in multi -print on white background. Exclusively yours at Lane Bryant by Harmony Division of Bret Devin. LANE BRANT PALM BEACH MALL Phone: 683-6255 Daily 10 to 9; Sunday 12 to 5:30 Use Lane Bryant Charge, Master Charge or BankAmericard. Delacorte From C2 ginal publisher was small," De- lacorte said. Now the figures sound like the payoff in the state lottery. It's a huge, expensive game of high bid. A book is placed on the auction block with a minimum bid. ("Fifty thou for this one, what do you offer?") It's all done by phone, with a week to reply. Through the bidding process, the prices gradually shot up from $10,000 to a million. "For a major book, you may have to put down half -a -million dollars," Delacorte said. "The smaller publishers (not like Dell) were behind the eight ball. They couldn't compete." According to Delacorte, Bantam paid $1.8 million for "Ragtime." And talk in the industry is that Ban- tam's going to take a bath. De- lacorte thinks the company will wind up losing hundreds of thousands on that one. "Even if you're a big publisher, you buy three or four big ones and lose half -a -million on each, and you're out of the business." A best seller in hardback is 50,000, Delacorte said. Most don't go over 5,000 or 8,000. The money is in the reprint rights: motion picture, radio, TV, foreign language and the big- gest bonanza of all — paperbacks. But paperback people have to play a high numbers game. Sell less than 100,000 and you lose your shirt. "Rich Man, Poor Man" and "Roots" paved a new direction for TV treatment of books. One feeds upon the other. A book is popular so it sells to TV. The TV show is aired and book sales leap upward again. In the case of "Roots," it seems to be backfiring. Author Alex Haley is in the process of suing hardback publisher Doubleday & Co. Haley claims he lost out on sales because Doubleday failed to adequately stock the bookstores of the nation. He is asking for $5 million in damages from Doubleday and that the con- tract with Dell be canceled. According to Delacorte, it's not all that simple. "Fourteen years ago, Haley went to Doubleday who ad- vanced him several thousand dollars on the book. He went through the money, the book wasn't completed and Doubleday figured the money was lost. "Dell came along and said we'd like to chip in $6,000 or $7,000. Of course, Doubleday was glad to get some of its money back." In the meantime, Delacorte says, some guy came along with the idea for a TV show. He paid Doubleday several thousand, did a relatively in- expensive pilot, but no one bit. "Finally, ABC decided to take a chance on it," Delacorte said. The result, of course, was the biggest success in the history of the medi- um. And the book sold over 1.5 mil- lion in hardback, a record for such a short period of time. As to the claim that Doubleday was negligent in not getting out the books, Delacorte said, "I know it had two other plants working on the book, as well. I think it's a cry in the wilderness. Haley would like to renegotiate his contract because he got the lowest rate. But you have to remember, he was not a famous writer before `Roots' came out." It's easy to cast the publisher in the bad guy role, said Delacorte. "But there are more publishing houses taken advantage of by au- thors. The hardback house that pays out advances of $2 million a year is going to lose between $200,000 and $300,000 on books that are never de- livered or are so lousy or so libelous you can't print them." Retired now, Delacorte is out of those battles. His energies are di- rected elsewhere — in tennis, art and his philanthropies, which he re- fuses to talk about. But his generosi- ty is on public display in New York City and elsewhere. For instance, he is the prime benefactor of the Delacorte Theater in Central Park where Joseph Papp stages his annual summer Shakes- peare Festival. He is the man who commissioned the bronze grouping of "Alice In Woat the north end ofanth characters 'Conservatory end the park's And he is the man who con- ceived of and paid for the execution of that whimsical carousel clock in the portal to the Park Zoo. He is a fascinating man, a mar- velous conversationalist who worries about his memory fading. His ad- miring wife Valerie, a former Hun- garian actress, says, "There is an utter simplicity to him. It's his car- ing about human values and not material things. He has a childlike approach to life and people, and a marvelous joy for living.'