Sun Down

At first month's end Marshall Field's New Deal Chicago Sun last week watched many a warm first hope turn slowly to icicles.

From its 896,000-copy christening (Dec. 4) its press run had dropped to 390,000, with heavy returns still running about 200,000. Informed guess was that the Sun might well be thankful to squeeze through its first four months with an average circulation of 250,000 instead of the 500,000 so confidently predicted a month ago. Like guess was that March 31 figures would show Colonel McCormick's Tribune still in possession of its million circulation.

Still the biggest Sun headache is distribution, with home deliveries a migraine case. Suburban areas are practically Sunless. Dealers tell their customers they are "trying" to get the Sun, while roadmen report large bundles not even opened. Suburban Chicago custom is to deliver papers at the back door. The Sun is left, when it is left at all, at the front door. When one Winnetka housewife asked for back-door delivery, the newsboy said he couldn't do it because the back stoop belonged to the Tribune.

Sun advertising--about half that of the Tribune--consists largely of "new accounts," i.e., those who have not advertised before. Meanwhile the smart Tribune misses no bets. Pulling out all the patriotic stops, it has encouraged Chicago to let isolationist bygones be bygones with colored front-page cartoons and maps, bigger Washington and war coverage. Last week it started a $5,000 contest based on Tribune comics--hitting the comics-weak Sun where it hurts most.

On its merits the Sun will now really have to scratch. Its character still fuzzy, dutiful rather than inspired in editorials, it has done nothing since its scoop of Pearl Harbor to attract attention. Chicago newsmen particularly shake their heads over the Sun's news sense. Example: it passed up a U.P. story on Wake Island to run its own H. R. Knickerbocker's story a day late.

At week's end the Sun hired a new circulation manager: the Chicago Daily News's Donald J. Walsh. He replaced the Great (Jack) Stenbuck, the ex-Hearstman who bragged prematurely that Detroit and Boston had taught him all there was to know about Chicago circulation.

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