He could never touch Otto Hickenlooper in institutions and social service. He could never beat Mahlon Potts in appealing to the well-to-do respectables.
Yet he could beat them all together!
Planning it delightedly, at the ministers' meeting, on his way home, by the fireplace at night, he saw that each of these stars was so specialized that he neglected the good publicity-bringing features of the others. Elmer would combine them; be almost as elevating as Chester Brown, almost as institutional and meddling as Otto Hickenlooper, almost as solidly safe and moral as Mahlon Potts. And all three of them, in fact every preacher in town except one Presbyterian, were neglecting the—well, some people called it sensational, but that was just envy; the proper word, considered Elmer, was powerful, or perhaps fearless, or stimulating—all of them were neglecting a powerful, fearless, stimulating, and devil-challenging concentration on vice. Booze. Legs. Society bridge. You bet!
Not overdo it, of course, but the town would come to know that in the sermons of the Reverend Elmer Gantry there would always be something spicy and yet improving.
"Oh, I can put it over the whole bunch!" Elmer stretched his big arms in joyous vigor. "I'll build a new church. I'll take the crowds away from all of 'em. I'll be the one big preacher in Zenith. And then— Chicago? New York? Bishopric? Whatever I want! Whee!"
