Chapter Seven
Ben’s newspaper, the Pennsylvania Gazette, did not start off as his own business. It was founded by his old employer Samuel Keimer. But Keimer ran the business so badly that he sold the Gazette to Franklin in October 1729, and ran off to Barbados.
Franklin was determined to make a success of his new venture. “There are many who have long desired to see a good newspaper in Pennsylvania,” he said in his first letter to readers. The Pennsylvania Gazette was going to fill that need. Franklin filled the paper with local and foreign news, poems, jokes, advertisements, letters, essays from other journals, entertainment, and general information. He hoped his newspaper would reach the whole Pennsylvania community. He printed notices in Welsh for the Welsh settlers and in German for the Germans.
Much of the paper he wrote himself. Finally he could print all the silly jokes he heard and opinions he held. As he had done in the Silence Dogood papers, Ben wrote editorials under pen names. “Anthony Afterwit” complained about a wife who spent too much money. “Alice Addertongue” gossiped about her neighbors.
Sometimes Franklin was criticized for the wide array of opinions he allowed in the Gazette. He believed that public discussion was the role of a newspaper. In his famous “Apology for Printers,” he stated his views as a publisher. People’s opinions, he said, are “almost as various as their faces.” Opposing views deserved to be aired. He himself didn’t have to agree with everything he printed. If he did, “the world would afterwards have nothing to read but what happened to be the opinions of printers.”
However, Ben refused to print anything he thought was hurtful or false. Once a customer urged him to publish such an article. Franklin refused, then thought about the money he would lose if he turned down paying customers. Did he dare refuse work in order to stand up for a principle? He decided to test himself.
As he later recounted in the Gazette, he had nothing but bread and water for supper and spent the night on the floor, wrapped in his coat. The next morning he breakfasted on bread and water again. He felt fine. Apparently he could live on very little if he had to! No matter what happened, he would never have to lower himself for money.
Franklin also knew that it was impossible to satisfy everyone. To illustrate his point, he told a fable. A man, a boy, and a horse were traveling along a road. First the boy rode the horse. Everyone who went by criticized him for making his old father walk. Then the man rode the horse. They scolded him for tiring out his young son. Then no one rode the horse. What foolish people, the passersby said. The man and boy were walking when they could be riding in comfort!
Finally, the travelers made a drastic decision. “My son,” the old man said. “It grieves me much that we cannot please all these people. Let us throw the [horse] over the next bridge, and be no farther troubled with him.”
The moral? You can’t please all of the people all of the time!
Ben Franklin was a busy man about town—printer, newspaperman, husband, shopkeeper. He had one more role—club member. In 1727 he founded a club for other young working men like himself. Some people called it the Leather Apron Club, because many of the members wore leather aprons at their jobs. But its official name was the Junto, which means “meeting” in Spanish. There were twelve members in all—a glassmaker, a scrivener (copyist), a cobbler, a cabinetmaker, a merchant’s clerk, a silversmith, a shoemaker, a surveyor, and a handful of printers. What they all had in common was a desire for knowledge and an interest in self-improvement.
The club had been Franklin’s idea from the beginning, of course. He was inspired by reading about different societies in Britain and New England. The Junto reflected his belief that people could join together to help themselves and their communities.
New members had to put their hands over their hearts and answer four questions.
Q: Do you have any disrespect for any current member?
A: No
Q: Do you love mankind in general no matter what their religion or profession?
A: Yes
Q: Do you feel people should ever be punished because of their opinions or religion?
A: No
Q: Do you love truth for its own sake?
A: Yes
Every Friday evening the group met in a tavern for friendly conversation. They discussed many different topics: What causes human happiness? What is wisdom? Is it possible for anyone to attain perfection? If a king takes away his subject’s rights, can the subject resist?
Sometimes the topics were more concrete: How can we judge good writing? Franklin answered this one himself. Good writing, he said, should be “smooth, clear, and short.”
And sometimes the questions reflected Franklin’s scientific interests: Why does dew form on the outside of a cold mug? How can a smoky chimney be cured?
The club had a more practical side, too. Its members helped each other achieve their goals. Franklin understood that teamwork was the key to success. “He that drinks his cider alone, let him catch his horse alone,” he used to say.
He made up a list of ways members could aid each other. “Is there any man whose friendship you want and which the Junto or any of them can procure [get] for you?” “In what manner can the Junto or any of them assist you in any of your honorable designs?” “Has anybody attacked your reputation lately, and what can the Junto do toward securing it?”
There were also ways the Junto could aid the community. “Have you lately observed any encroachments on [interference with] the just liberties of the people?” “Have you lately observed any defect [flaw] in the laws of your country of which it would be proper to move the legislature for an amendment?” “Hath any deserving stranger arrived in town since last meeting that you heard of? And what have you heard of his character or merits?”
Even though the Junto was supposed to be a secret society, its reputation grew. So many people wanted to join that soon there were four or five spin-off clubs. The Junto lasted thirty years. Franklin never got tired of it. “I love company, chat, a laugh, a glass, and even a song,” he admitted.
Members of the Junto were interested in a wide range of topics. But whenever they had a disagreement or wanted to find out more about a particular subject, they had few places to turn for answers. Not only was there no Internet or TV—there were no public libraries and very little printed matter was available to them. They needed more books.
Franklin, in particular, needed more books. As his biographer Carl van Doren said, “there were books in his private life, books in his business, books in his friendship.” Ben didn’t just read books; he devoured them. As soon as he put one down, he was ready for the next.
What he needed was a book express service, straight from London, the book capital of the world, to his doorstep in Philadelphia. And how was he going to manage something like that?