Chapter 28: The Atlantic Monthly Takes Notice (Please Add It to Your Library and Keep Reading!)

However, Ernie recognized Edward Weeks and Fanny Ellison.

Neither of them, however, recognized Ernie.

When the chimes on the café door rang, they merely glanced up at the person entering. A flicker of confusion crossed their eyes before they checked their watches and returned to discussing the author of "Morning Star."

They sensed an air of the artist and writer about Ernie, but instinctively concluded that the author who could write "A Bronx Tale" could not possibly be a young man. After all, the calm, measured, and detailed portrayal of life in that story was not something a young person could possess; it was a depth of experience that could not be mimicked.

Ernie noticed their "indifference," which made him doubt himself. He looked around the café again. That wasn't right! There was no one else here but the two of them!

Muttering to himself, Ernie was not one to be bashful. He simply walked straight toward the table by the window where the two were seated.

"Excuse me," he said politely, "are you the editors from 'Black Mask' and 'The Atlantic Monthly'?"

"You are... Mr. Reiser?"

Weeks and Ellison were both astonished. The young man who had taken the initiative to greet them looked at most twenty years old.

Before they could recover, Ernie smiled brilliantly. "It is better to meet once than to hear a hundred times. I’ve heard that you both are titans in the industry, especially skilled at discovering talent rather than just following market trends. That willingness to support authors truly gives those of us who are just starting out more motivation to create."

Ernie’s greeting was a barrage of compliments, delivered with a practiced ease that felt as if it were etched deep into his soul from his previous life.

Of course, he wasn't just spouting empty praise. While he didn't know much about the Black woman, the middle-aged man had to be Edward Weeks, the editor-in-chief of "The Atlantic Monthly." The name wasn't famous in later generations, but anyone familiar with publishing history would recognize him as a veteran of the American editorial scene.

Beyond discovering established writers, Weeks was known for his patience with "rookies" who had never published before. Ernie remembered that Vladimir Nabokov, the author of "Lolita," had his first American short story, "Mademoiselle O," commissioned by Weeks.

Caught off guard by the relentless flattery, Weeks and Ellison were somewhat dazed.

*This young man is far too articulate!*

However, Ernie’s perfectly pitched praise made them somewhat more inclined to believe that "A Bronx Tale" had truly been written by this young man.

Ellison was also pleased by Ernie’s words, not for any other reason than that he spoke with poise and without any agitation, clearly unfazed by the fact that she was a Black woman.

"Mr. Reiser, I feel the same way—it is better to meet you in person!"

Edward Weeks extended his hand. Seeing that Ernie was such a handsome, mature young man, he felt pleasantly surprised; here was another talent worth cultivating.

***

After the pleasantries, Weeks asked immediately, "Are you also the author of this piece, 'Morning Star'?"

Ernie was surprised to see Weeks reading "Astounding Stories"—what a coincidence. However, he had started with the intention of "cultivating a pen name" to raise his own profile, so he didn't hide it.

"My God, you are truly a natural-born writer."

Weeks and Ellison were stunned; they had never seen such a gifted author. It gave them the feeling that this was the "von Neumann" of the literary world—a genius who could excel across different fields.

After a bit more small talk, they moved to the main point.

Edward Weeks said, "I want to publish your work in next month’s 'Atlantic Monthly.' I can offer an honorarium of $800. What do you think?"

$800!

Ernie felt a surge of joy. It was no surprise that this was a top-tier journal; they didn't even calculate by word count but paid a flat fee for the whole piece.

"A Bronx Tale" was about 18,000 words. Even at a high rate of three cents per word, that would only come to about $540. $800 was an absolute steal; top journals were certainly generous. He didn't even dare to imagine what long-term authors like Hemingway or Faulkner earned.

"Mr. Weeks, that is a very good price, but I would like to ask for a bit more."

"I am confident that once 'Morning Star' is released, it will boost sales for 'The Atlantic Monthly.' Much like a movie star crossing over into music, 'crossover creation' itself is a gimmick."

Ernie sipped his espresso and was immediately struck by the bitterness. The lack of variety in coffee styles at this time was truly distressing. But to negotiate a higher fee for "A Bronx Tale," he endured the bitterness, maintaining a warm, polite, and composed smile on his face.

"Well then..."

Edward Weeks pondered for a moment before nodding. "$950. If doing this ensures you’ll offer your next manuscript to me as well, then it is a price well worth paying."

***

Having been editor-in-chief for so long, Weeks was certainly not short-sighted. Even though he had to pay an extra $150, he felt it was a fair deal.

"Mr. Weeks, your appreciation of my talent and your generous encouragement leave me flattered. Thank you."

Ernie shook hands with Weeks, and the deal was firmly struck. He wasn't greedy and didn't push for more. The reality of the era was that submissions to magazines were one-time buyouts; there were no subsequent royalties.

Ernie’s goal was to become a great writer like Hemingway, Faulkner, or Fitzgerald, lounging at home while comfortably collecting royalties. There was no need to leave the editors with a label of being "greedy" for the sake of a temporary gain.

Besides, once his work became a hit, he wouldn't even need to ask; Edward Weeks would likely come to him to discuss publishing a book. If he could gradually build his career and follow the "serialization plus publication" route like Hemingway—earning a large sum for serializing a novel in a magazine and then collecting royalties on the published book—well, that would be a life beyond his wildest dreams.

After the pleasant negotiations, Edward Weeks signed a check and the payment voucher on the spot, handing them to Ernie.

Additionally, Ernie made an agreement with Fanny Ellison that if he had any stories fitting the style of "Black Mask," he would submit them to her first. This wasn't just empty talk; writing a punchy story in the style of "Black Mask" wasn't difficult, and Ernie had been thinking of writing such stories in his spare time—the inspiration from a "reimagined" version of "Crime City" was still waiting to be used.

By evening, just as Ernie pedaled his bike to the base of his apartment building, he saw Puzo riding a bicycle with Asimov riding on the back.

After returning from school, Asimov had received a call from "Black Mask," telling "Mario Puzo" to go to the office to collect his payment voucher and check. Although Fanny Ellison was Puzo's editor, as a Black female editor, her meeting with Ernie today was already an exceptional case; the follow-up administrative work was naturally handled by other white editors.

So, Asimov had run to the neighborhood where Puzo lived to relay the message. The two had just come from "Black Mask" after picking up the check.

"Ernie, I got my payment! Come on, I'll treat you to burgers at White Castle," Puzo waved at Ernie. He was excited, but managed to keep it in check—after all, he wanted to be considerate of his friend who hadn't been published yet.