James Brand Pinker, Literary Agent

Arnold Bennett meets James Brand Pinker

2007-01-07T05:23:00.000-08:00

A cool Saturday morning in November 1901. Arnold Bennett, on the recommendation of HG Wells, had an important engagement on Arundel Street, at 10.30.

He had taken the train from West Kensington to Temple, then the gloomiest station on the District Railway. Bennett hurried as he reached the entrance to Effingham House.Up four granite steps, he passed through a pair of swinging doors. Four more granite steps and another pair of swinging doors. Bennett found himself in a huge marble hall. The lift cabinet which stood in front of the broad staircase looked just like a confessional, he thought to himself.On the walls, there were great tablets inscribed with many names in gold letters. Bennett scanned the tablets and eventually found what he was looking for. "James Brand Pinker, Literary Agent" under the heading "Third Floor".

The third floor was a world of its own. An arrow with the legend "James Brand Pinker, Literary Agent" directed him along a corridor to a corner where another arrow, with the exact same legend, pointed along yet another corridor. The merry din of typewriters grew louder.Finally, Bennett found himself in front of a glass door. There was the legend again, painted in what he would describe as "a graceful curve". Through the opaque glass he could see vague movements. He bit his teeth.

Bennett entered. Two smart women in tight and elegant bodices, with fluffy bows at the backs of their necks, looked up from their typewriters. The blonde, knowing to expect him, introduced herself as Miss Barton, and asked Bennett to take a seat for a moment.He absorbed his surroundings. A Turkish carpet, beautiful almanacs on the walls. In the corner, a blue and white tea service sat on a Japanese table. All over the place were massive piles of manuscripts of all shapes and descriptions. All had one thing in common: an impressive looking label, "James Brand Pinker, Literary Agent".

Bennett’s own manuscript felt so small, he could hardly feel it under his arm. After a couple of minutes, Miss Barton returned, and led him to Mr. Pinker’s office.There was Pinker. A short, sturdy, clean-shaven individual with a plump ruddy face and close-cropped whitening hair. He sat in a Chippendale chair at a carved oak table. Above him, a highly ornamental ceiling, in the centre of which was a superb electric chandelier. Bennett thought to himself, "Is this a business office? Or is it a club?"

Pinker beamed at Bennett."Come in and be seated, won’t you?" he said in a hoarse voice that was almost a whisper.He stood, and gave Bennett an old-fashioned handshake that was virtually shoulder high. Pinker looked pleased with himself, dressed in his grey frock coat; on his desk a grey top hat. Presently, he would be driving four-in-hand to Windsor.

"Now, what can I do for you?" he said abruptly, as he offered Bennett a Teofani cigarette."M-m-Mr. Wells has advised, nay, c-c-commanded me to come to you. He told me that the t-t-time has come for me to put the whole of my affairs into your h-h-hands. William Colles whom you undoubtedly know, has been my agent since 1898, but he has been of very little use to me. He has continually f-f-failed to acknowledge receipt of stories. He’s failed to sell them. I’ve even myself had to advise h-h-him where to sell them."

Pinker sat with an interested expression, and said "Oh"."I understand that in the few short years that you’ve been in this business, you have done m-m-miraculous things for a number of authors.""Yes," replied Pinker modestly, "you might say that I make careers."

"I am a prolific writer, sir. My first novel, "A Man from the North" was published in 1898. Since that t-t-time, I’ve written a sensational novel called "Love and Life", three one-act plays, entitled "Polite Farces", a s-s-series of essays, and a couple of plays with Arthur Hooley. One day, I’m going to be a lucrative property.And during this period, I’ve also been the Editor of Wo-o-oman", no mean accomplishment, I’ll t-t-tell you!"

"I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Bennett. Indeed, I’ve read some of your stuff myself," said Pinker, as he rose to stoke the blazing fire."I like what I see." He paused.My policy, sir, is that I ask you to write what you want to write. I’ll sell it, and take ten percent".

Thus began one of the most successful business relationships in the history of literature.JB Pinker’s list of clients read like a veritable roll-call of all the late Victorian and Edwardian writers. Arnold Bennett was undoubtedly his most successful. From 1901 to 1922 when Pinker died, Bennett wrote a total of over 2,600 letters to him in the course of doing business. Many wondered how he ever managed to find the time to write anything else. Bennett suffered greatly from his stammer, and he lived in Paris for many years. It was obviously less painful for him to correspond than to discuss his fiction face to face.

Joseph Conrad became a very close friend to Pinker. He appreciated that without JB’s substantial financial support over many lean years, he might not have written his great books. JB and Conrad endured many crises in their relationship, but their mutual respect held them together. Conrad depended so much on Pinker’s support that he was conditioned to ask:"Is it possible, JyB, for my wife to have a new coat?"Pinker literally managed Conrad’s finances, paying for everything from cigars and hotel rooms to the milk bills.

Stephen Crane, during his tragically short period in England, held wild parties, with caviar and champagne, for his literary entourage, at poor Pinker’s expense, and died before Pinker was able to see a reasonable return on his investment.

The Master, Henry James came to Pinker late in his career. Pinker sorted out the mess, and James was suddenly able to build his gazebo, and buy "bits" of China, thanks to Pinker.

DH Lawrence, for whom Pinker acted for seven years, only wrote to JB in moments of exasperation, and owed more to him than he was prepared to admit. Lawrence had no time for the business side of writing; he called Pinker "that little parvenu snob of a procurer of books".

JB was an old friend and neighbour of HG Wells, and helped him buy his home in Worcester Park. Wells became one of Pinker’s first clients, and Pinker increased his income substantially, although he later had a public argument with Arnold Bennett over the benefits of Pinker.

Compton Mackenzie said that he owed much to Pinker’s enthusiasm for his work.Oscar Wilde said: "It was simply the fatal attraction of his name that made me pin my faith in him."The attraction of his name to Virginia Woolf, though not a client, was such that she called her dog Pinker.

There were many others. Ford Madox Ford; John Galsworthy; George Gissing; Violet Hunt; ASM Hutchinson; Aldous Huxley, James Joyce; Basil King; Thomas Mann; Somerset Maugham, Stephen McKenna; Frederick Rolfe; George Bernard Shaw; Edith Somerville; "Martin" Ross; Osbert Sitwell, Frank Swinnerton; Sir Hugh Walpole and CN Williamson.For some inexplicable reason, Rudyard Kipling, A Conan Doyle and JB Pinker did not cross paths.Ford Madox Ford appreciated the significance of Pinker:"You could have little idea of what the literary world was like unless you imagine that man looming always somewhere in the background of lettered thoughts."

James Brand Pinker established himself as a literary agent in mid January 1896. When he died twenty six years later in New York, he was widely acknowledged as the greatest agent of his time. In his will, JB left £40,000. His most prolific client, Arnold Bennett left £36,000 in his.

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Literary Agents

Feedback 2/12/06 from Aneeta Sundararaj on How To Tell A Great Story
10:12:16, Categories: Literary Stuff, 185 words Aneeta
Walk where no man has before…
Pioneers come in so many different forms. And today, I had a surprise reply from Martin Pinker, whose ancestor, James Brand Pinker, “was one of the first literary agents, and many famous authors at the turn of the twentieth century successfully marketed their work through him.”
I visited Martin’s site and what an interesting account he gave of the conversation between Arnold Bennett and James B. Pinker. I would recommend reading it. It’s fascinating.
Martin mentions an article in Guardian by Robert McCrum where he writes about the reluctance of people in the publishing industry to accept the role of the literary agent. He ends with
One thing is certain: the literary agenting business is now where the real action is in the lawless jungle of the book world.
The thing is, from reading Martin’s account, is seems possible that the British authors of yester-year already knew the value of an agent and it took the industry close to 100 years to accept and realise this? I wonder how long it will take for the rest-of-the-world-authors to accept this? Or have they already ...

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http://theploughman2005.blogspot.com
http://martysphotos.blogspot.com/
http://ukitaly2005.blogspot.com/

James Brand Pinker: Distinguished List of Clients

2006-02-19T05:39:00.000-08:00

The Pinker literary agency handled the writing of an incredible list of authors:

Arnold Bennett
Joseph Conrad
George Gissing
Stephen Crane
H.G. Wells
Oscar Wilde
D.H. Lawrence
Henry James
James Joyce
Aldous Huxley
W.W. Jacobs
A.J. Marshall
Barry Pain
Somerset Maugham
Seumus MacManus
Edith Somerville
Martin Ross
George Bernard Shaw
Basil King
W.L.George
Frederick Rolfe
Sir Hugh Walpole
Ford Madox Ford
Stephen McKenna
Frank Swinnerton
John Galsworthy
Stephen Reynolds
Compton Mackenzie
E. Phillips Oppenheim
Violet Hunt
A.S.M.Hutchinson
Osbert Sitwell
Thomas Mann
Laurence Housman
Agnes Farley
C.N & A.M. Williamson
Edith Wharton
John Houseman
Lewis Galantiere
Maxwell Bodenheim
Sir Ronald Storrs
Francis Brett Young
Gertrude T. Friedberg
Louis Bromfield
Gertrude Tonkonogy
Rose Franken

1896. The Year The Literary Agency Took Off.

2006-02-18T08:06:00.000-08:00

1896 was a good year to start a literary agency. Literacy was spreading rapidly. In 1894, the art of fiction had been liberated from the albatross of the obligatory three volumes for a novel, thanks to a joint decision by Mudies and W.H. Smith's circulating libraries to only stock single volume novels.

A number of lively publishing houses were emerging: Heinemann, Hutchinson, The Bodley Head, J.M. Dent, Sidgewick & Jackson, Methuen and Duckworth. And the Copyright Act meant that British authors were now able to reap financial benefits previously denied them, from American publication.

"This is the age of the middleman" wrote publisher William Heinemann, "He is generally a parasite. He always flourishes. I have been forced to give him some attention lately in my particular business. In it he calls himself a literary agent. May I explain his evolution?"

The Origin. You become a literary agent by hiring an office; capital and other special qualifications are unnecessary; but 'suaviter in modo' must be your policy, combined with a fair amount of self-assertion. You begin by touting among the most popular authors of the moment, and by being always at hand and glad of a job, you will soon be able to extract from them testimonials which, carefully edited, make up a seductive prospectus to send out broadcast. You must collect these testimonials with zest, just as a pill-doctor or the maker of belts electropathic. It does not much matter how much you pester quiet people for them, as long as you get your circular together. 'You have made one author wealthy (you, not his work; oh no, not his work!) who was poor before; another has found you invariably reliable, and a third has tried you two years ago, and has never been anywhere else since'.

The Business. You commence by taking in a weekly paper, in which you follow carefully every author who has hitherto been unsuccessful, who is just beginning to succeed, and who has found a friend in some publisher, whose endeavours and efforts and work have at last helped to bring him into recognition. You must lose no time in dispatching your cicular to this author, telling him that he has been shamefully neglected in the past, that you can double, treble, increase his income tenfold, if he will only allow you 10 percent of this income for doing so..."

William Heinemann was known to be referring to Alexander Pollock Watt, the first literary agent, when he wrote this epistle. However, it clearly illustrates the welcome facing the early agents from the publishing trade generally. Heinemann, of course, was never in favour of agents because he perceived his own relationships with authors being eroded. Agents were an intrusion.

Heinemann maintained his vendetta against agents until the end of his lifetime, in spite of the fact that, in common with other publishers, he actually employed Paul Revere Reynolds to act on his behalf in New York. What he probably did not realize was that Reynolds was also agent for a number of American authors.

The establishment of the agent in the writing-publishing process was inevitable. Authors were previously entirely at the mercy of publishers. This was highly profitable for publishers, as they were generally more skillful negotiators than the authors themselves. Contracts may have been rather one-sided.

Ford Maddox Ford acknowledged the place of an agent, if with a certain degree of cynicism:

"I should say that on the whole an agent is of little use to the author who has any business faculties at all, but so many have not. The agent's function is to be a sort of bar-loafer who hangs around, finding what publisher, magazine or paper wants what."

Agents, of course, gave much more. They acted primarily in the interests of the author, searching out the most suitable publisher or medium for the work, obtaining the best possible advance and royalties, certainly a good deal more than the author himself would have obtained, enabling a commission of ten percent to be easily paid from the difference.

And there was more: first serial rights, second serial rights, condensation rights, translation and foreign rights. The author certainly had neither the time nor the inclination for these matters. The business side of writing has, and always will be, a tiresome bore to the serious writer.

Pinker knew this, and was prepared to do all these things and more. He succeeded where others had failed. Some people liked him, but he was not generally popular.

Before Pinker, there were a number who purported to be agents, but only one was, in the true sense of the word. Alexander Watt is generally recognized to be the first literary agent in England or elsewhere. He began representing authors in the 1870's.

Initially Watt charged a fee similar to that of a lawyer, for services rendered, but soon found that a flat commission of ten percent of the royalties was more practical. This has been the standard in the trade ever since.

Ford described Watt as looking like "something between a bishop and a butler", which naturally was not a positive attribute. He issued a book of testimonial letters from his clients. Joseph Conrad told Pinker that the book put him in mind of the credentials of his Malayan laundrywoman.

Robert Hichens, author of the best-selling novel of 1904, "The Garden of Allah" used Watt, and described him as "a very serious-looking Scotsman who wore spectacles and had an extremely quiet manner." Already he had acted for many of the famous writers of the day whose signed photographs hung on his office walls. Among them was Rudyard Kipling.

Watt also relieved Conan Doyle and Yeats of "the intolerable trouble of haggling and bargaining". Certainly Watt was a successful businessman and had it not been for his unfortunate nature, he would likely have achieved much greater things.

According to Compton Mackenzie, Watt was indignant when Pinker decided to set up as a literary agent:

"Watt had been the first literary agent, and he was inclined to regard Pinker's irruption into literary agency as a breach of contract."

Watt had reason to fear Pinker, for over the following years, he was to lose a number of his important clients to Pinker.

James Pinker was able to step in and establish a clientele of great standing. He looked for relatively unknown authors whom he could wean and grow with, rather than attempting to prove himself with writers who were already successful. He set out to be imaginative about his role as agent. His entry into the Literary Year Book of 1901 stated his position:

"Mr. Pinker has always made a special point of helping young authors in the early stages of their career, when they most need the aid of an advisor with a thorough knowledge of the literary world and the publishing trade".

In taking this approach, Pinker acted in contrast to Watt and the trend of agency work. Watt's entry in the same year book acknowledged an interest in helping young authors, but it was devoted mainly to a recommendation of Watt by Sir Walter Besant, and a listing of the most famous clients.

Edwardians were not generally noted for their taste in literature. Pinker was shrewd; he knew exactly what the public enjoyed reading. He could spot a bestseller very quickly.

Heinemann also said:

"The literary agency is a favourite resort of persons who have not ability enough either for ordinary business pursuits or for literature."

He underestimated the style of J.B. Pinker. For although Pinker was not a man of outstanding intellect, he had a special flair for sensing literary talent before it was generally recognized, and had courage to back that judgement financially. He combined his natural business ability with a sensitivity to the real needs of his authors. He represented hope, immediate financial assistance, and a stable influence in the cluttered and disorganized world of many a struggling author. He was able to drive a hard bargain with publishers, and soon they would recognize his talent.

More about "J.B"

2006-02-18T07:11:00.000-08:00

"You could have little idea of what the literary world was like unless you imagine that Scotsman as looming always somewhere in the background of lettered thoughts"

Ford Madox Ford

James Brand Pinker established himself as a literary agent in mid-January 1896. When he died twenty six years later, he was acknowledged as the greatest literary agent of his time.

He was born in 1863 and came from a rather modest background. He left school early to work as a clerk at Tilbury Docks in east London.

At the age of 27, in 1888, he began work as a correspondent for the Levant Herald, one of the English dailies in Constantinople, where he remained for three years. How he began his literary interest there is unknown, but he undoubtedly improved his social position during this time through his involvement with Constantinople diplomats. He did enough to convince Elizabeth Seabrooke, from a much more substantial family than his, to sail out from England to marry him.

James and Elizabeth returned to England in 1891 where James became assistant editor of the illustrated weekly "Black & White" in London under the editorship of C.N. Williamson.

The first issue of "Black & White" was published on 6 February 1891. In its early years, articles and stories by the likes of Thomas Hardy, Robert Louis Stevenson and Henry James brought J.B. into direct contact with key novelists. Among the staff of "Black & White" were M.H. Spielman, the art critic, Mrs. Belloc Lowndes, Eden Phillpotts and Violet Hunt, the intimate friend of Ford Madox Ford.

Violet Hunt recalled those days:

"I had known J.B. as a boy in the office....he and I used to race to get the foreign stamps out of the Editor's wastepaper basket for our collections."

But Pinker was in fact doing a lot more than collect stamps whilst at "Black & White". He was learning to understand popular literary taste and was also moonlighting as a reader for a publishing house. From there, he moved to become Editor of a new journal, Pearson's Magazine.

He probably intended to do no more than launch the journal, for he resigned at the end of 1895, before the first issue appeared. The aim of Pearson's was to entertain the great public, so the initial choice of Pinker for editor suggests that his capabilities ranged widely.

In mid-January 1896, recognising the need for a powerful business influence on the literay world, he established himself as a literary agent in Granville House on Arundel Street. It was a case of gamekeeper turned poacher.

James Brand Pinker

2006-02-18T06:50:00.000-08:00

I found this photograph of J.B. Pinker in James Hepburn's excellent book on the history of literary agents: "The Author's Empty Purse"