Quiet Queen

William Randolph Hearst's noisy New York Journal-American last week quietly admitted that the quiet Philadelphia Bulletin is now the No. 1 U.S. afternoon newspaper. For years the Journal-American has carried a 9-point-bold line in its Page One index: "Largest circulation of any evening newspaper in America." Last week the "in America" read "in New York City."

The Bulletin of Robert and William L. McLean Jr. was typically sedate about it all. In its advertising it stuck to its homework: "In Philadelphia Nearly Everybody Reads the Bulletin." But proudly, under its Old English masthead, the 96-year-old Bulletin recorded: "February circulation 657,440 copies daily." Hearstmen would give no figure beyond that of the last available Audit Bureau of Circulation. It showed the Journal-American with a quarter-year average (July 1 to Oct. 1) of 635,508.

Many U.S. editors have tried to explain the Bulletin's long, steadily strengthened grip on Philadelphia's readers. Most have given up with a too-easy revision of its slogan to: "Only in Philadelphia Would Nearly Everybody Read the Bulletin." The paper fits no familiar pattern for success. Unlike the crusading St. Louis Post-Dispatch, it almost never upsets an applecart, seldom even nudges one. It does not go in heavily for foreign correspondence. It is never spectacular.

No Place Like Home. The Bulletin is aimed at Philadelphia's miles upon miles of rows upon rows of homes. It sticks to good coverage of local news, thoroughness, objectivity in all things. Slow on the uptake when it comes to two-fisted journalism, it is fast on its selling feet.

No joke to its competitors is the Bulletin's speed in getting to press with a big story, getting it to thousands of outlets. But its unhurried mien in other ways gives Philadelphians some chuckles. A few years ago its editors decided on new type, headlines, makeup. Changes were made page by page, week by week. Her public was hardly aware that the Old Lady of City Hall Square was changing her dress.

Strike Out Strike. For years the Bulletin was slow to recognize organized labor (the word strike was long taboo in its columns). When the engravers' union became so strong it had to be dealt with, the Bulletin set up a separate engraving company. To this day this company, in an adjoining building, sends the Bulletin's cuts over in a conveyor.

The Bulletin's conservatives are not slow. President-Publisher Robert McLean is also president of the Associated Press. Lank, sandy, shy, he gives editors suggestions and a free hand. His brother, William L. Jr., vice president, looks after the money and the newsprint problem, has his hands full of both. Massive, gregarious Richard W. Slocum became general manager six years ago, has worked steadily against the Bulletin's antiquity, toward a fresh approach in civic matters. Dwight S. Perrin, managing editor since 1939, went to the Bulletin after 13 years with the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. His assistant is chain-smoking George S. Seltzer, a walking Philadelphia reference library.

The Bulletin, always known for small type and small starting salaries, is no stranger to bigness--it has the biggest presses in the U.S., biggest home delivery, some of the biggest executive salaries in the business. But the editorial Big Stick is still a stranger to the biggest evening newspaper.

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