The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Man of Samples, by Wm. H. Maher This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: A Man of Samples Author: Wm. H. Maher Release Date: July, 2004 [EBook #6132] This file was first posted on November 17, 2002 Last Updated: March 16, 2018 Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN OF SAMPLES *** Text file produced by Ben Byer, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team HTML file produced by David Widger
SHIVERHIM & GAILY, Philadelphia.I don't like to hand out a card as an introduction of myself to other traveling men, so I told him my name and that of my house, and we considered ourselves acquainted. “Is this your first trip?” Now, why in thunder should he have asked that? Did I look different from other traveling men? I felt as if he showed very bad taste in asking such a question and I made a note to never do it unless I wanted to be mean. But I told Blissam (that was his name) that it was my first trip. “Then you'll find Rossmore a tough place to tackle.” I said we had three customers there. “So have we; so has every dealer that ever went there. They buy a handful of goods of everybody, and they buy most goll-darned cheap. They'll lie to you until your head swims. First, there's Fisher; keeps an eating room on the main floor and gun store upstairs. I'll go in and quote him Remington guns at $36, when you call he'll ask your price; if you say $36, he'll tell you that you're high, and he'll break you down in spite of yourself.” “But when a fellow gets to the bottom he's got to stop,” said I. “Oh, there's no bottom to guns. It's the meanest business in the world, and it used to be the best. In '70-'73 I could make big profits as easy as a duck swims, but now it's all glory. I sold Simmons a bill of $600 last week, and made exactly eighteen dollars. “Oh, well,” said I, “you can't expect to make much on Simmons, but there are lots of places where you do make a good profit now.” “No, sir; it can't be done. Say, are you going to cut prices much at Rossmore?” “Not at all, if I can help it. I'm out on the road to make money, and not to show big sales. But I'm afraid your house will overshadow mine.” “Oh, that's all nonsense; people don't go a cent on houses any more; prices are what tell. I'll introduce you.” Not much. No competitor of mine ever introduced me or ever shall. I prefer to introduce myself in my own time and way. We reached Rossmore about 7 o'clock in the evening. Blissam took it for granted that I was going to the Everett House, but my hotels had been fixed for me by our old traveling man, and he had instructed me to go to the Forest; a cheaper house, but in all other respects equal to the other. I was rather glad, too, that we were not going to the same house. Be ever so sociable with a competitor, still the fact remains that he is a competitor, and his success means your failure. Under such circumstances a man must be less interested in his business than I was to permit him to feel very desirous of his competitor's company. After registering at the hotel it occurred to me that it would be a good idea to catch any of the dealers that I could that evening and break the ice. It might be worth something to make a good impression before Blissam got around. After getting my bearings well established, I started to call on Billwock. Billwock was pretty generally known in the gun trade; first for being mighty slow pay, and second for the fact that they had a baby at his shop regularly every year or oftener, and the store was used as nursery and play-ground. Traveling men had to see the last baby and count all the old ones, and according as they praised them did old Billwock buy liberally or not. The head of the house had said to me, “Don't push goods on Billwock; he owes us enough already. If you squeeze a good payment out of him you can sell him a small bill.” This kind of talk is all good enough, so far as it goes; but the poor devil on the road often finds he can't get a cent, neither can he sell any goods. The men at home think all he need do is to say, “Here I am; what is it you want?” and then copy the order as fast as he can write. But the men who order that way are the kind who never intend to pay for what they order. I thought the matter of Billwock's account all over by the time I found his store. It was dimly lighted, but I saw a man and woman at the rear, and went in. A mussy and dirty looking man came forward to meet me, but when he had walked a little way he evidently concluded that I was a drummer, and that I might walk the rest of the way to him. “Is this Mr. Billwock?” I asked. “Yes.” I told him who I was, but he seemed little interested. I started to ask about his business, but some one sang out my name and said, “Don't go talking business out there; come back and see the baby.” Blissam, by thunder! I went back and found him beside Mrs. Billwock, with a young one on his knee, and as much at home as if he was the uncle of all concerned. I made up my mind that Blissam couldn't be any more sociable than I could, and I set out to do my prettiest. About 9 o'clock we both went out together, and, perhaps naturally, drifted to the smoking room of his hotel. He was an old hand on the road, and full of stories of his own and others' experience. I tried to be a good listener. “There are some mighty queer men in the trade,” said he, as he puffed his cigar. “I took an order from a man in Indiana, not long ago, for felt wads, Nos. 8 and 9, and for some cardboard. When I went to copy my orders I remembered that the man had given no size for the cardboard wanted, but I was pretty sure he wanted 12's, and wrote that size. As it happened the house was out of No. 9 felt and let it go, as he only wanted one-third of a dozen. What did the fellow do but send back the card-board wads, saying he had ordered 9's, and giving us Hail Columbia for sending 12's instead, as well as a long epistle about knowing his own business, and not wanting our help in running it. The card-board wads were worth about 33 cents, and the express charges on them back were 25 cents. I tell you the world is full of smart Alecks.” “I presume I have seen more about returned goods than you have,” I said, “as I have been in the store so long, and see every package that comes in. I do get my back up over some of the stupid things the average retailer will do. It never seems to enter his head to drop the house a card and await their instructions about the goods that are unsatisfactory, but he fancies he is showing how smart he is by whacking them back at once, and always by express, no matter how heavy the goods are. A neighbor of mine, a hardware man, told me an instance of the smart Aleck a few days ago. The house was handling a new tubular lantern and selling it under the market price of regular goods. The traveling man sent in three orders from a Michigan town, each of them for one-half dozen lanterns. The stock clerk had a single half dozen of the new lantern and found a half-dozen case of the genuine. He filled two orders and put the other half-dozen on the back-order book. The genuine was billed at the cut price and nothing said on the bill. In a day or two back that case came by express, and an indignant letter from the customer for palming off on him the old tubular, when the agent had sold the new. The clerk erased the mark and sent the case back to the other man in the town whose order was not filled. You can see how much time, trouble and expense would have been saved had the smart Aleck dropped a card to the house saying he did not want the lanterns and held them subject to orders. “Yes,” said Blissam, “but I have seen goods go back when I thought it was the proper thing to do. You know one of the latest schemes is to sell goods in cases, and throw in the show-case. It started with needle and thread men and has gone into a good many other things. A concern from somewhere in Ohio had a man in Illinois selling shears in this way. In one town he sold the dry-goods man a case, at 45 per cent, off retail prices, and gave him the exclusive sale of the town, and then sold a hardware man across the street at 50 per cent, discount, and gave him the exclusive sale. When each party opened up his stock and made a display they soon discovered how the land lay, and, furthermore, the way in which the dry-goods man swore when he saw the other's bill at so much less than his, would have made your hair stand up. He boxed up these goods and sent them back by express, and I thought he did right.” I went down to my hotel and sat a while in the smoking-room. There were several traveling men there, and they seemed to be very much interested in some “she,” but I was never a good hand at making acquaintances, and I made no effort here, but went to my room and soon fell asleep, to dream all night about selling goods at 100 per cent profit. The next morning I was out bright and early to see Jewell & Son. The clerk said neither of the firm was in, so I made myself as pleasant to him as I could, and posted myself as to the goods the house was handling, and the prices they were paying. By and by the elder Jewell appeared, and as I introduced myself he said: “Gun men are plenty to-day; my son has just gone to the hotel with a Mr. Blissam to look at his goods.”
I was much interested in that talk, and sorry when the two men separated. But I was there to sell Shively some goods, and I went at it right heartily.“I am rather tired of the gun business,” said he, “and would drop that branch quite willingly. It is being managed on the basis of brag rather than that of brains. Any fool can sell a revolver at 92 cents that cost him 90, or a gun for $7.50 that cost him $7. No brains are required to do that. The poorest salesman I have on the road sells the most goods and makes me the least money. The gun business has got into the hands of men who have just brains enough to run a ten-cent counter store.” “Is it not about as bad in other lines?” I asked. “No, not quite. There is much more detail to other lines. The gun business is compact and the line small. Consumers pick up names of makers quicker, and post themselves easier. A man buys a pistol or gun but once or twice in his life, and he gives the matter considerable study and shops around a good deal. Fifteen years ago Kittridge of Cincinnati used to be the champion cutter, but either he is out of business or has changed his tactics; now St. Louis and Chicago have gone into the postal card business and struck the 'Me Big Injun!' attitude. Here is a card one of my men sent in from a little town to-day. Shot quoted 80 bags $1.16! The man can't buy 80 bags in 80 months, and the house sending the card to him knows it, but it gives him a basis to work on us, and hurts us without helping anyone.” “Yet you buy of these card men?” “No, I don't, d—n them; I'd shut up shop sooner. There is no reason in the world for wholesale gun stores; the business ought to be handled by the wholesale hardware trade, and ought to be done in a legitimate way on a legitimate profit. But some idiotic manufacturer, either being hard up for money, or envious of a competitor, goes to one of these gun houses and offers a special cut price, and within twenty-four hours every little cross-roads dealer is advised of the cut.” “I heard a man swearing just about the same way about screws,” I said. “Screws? Oh, yes; that's so. Screws have been about as mean. One factory used the hardware trade of the country to club a competitor, and thousands of dollars of values were wiped out in the operation. I had, say $1,000 worth of screws, bought at 75 percent off. Russell & Erwin wanted to hurt the American, so down went screws to 80. That didn't settle the business, and next they went to 90 off. What was worth $1,000 at 75 off was worth but $400 now. And this cut was advertised everywhere, so that retailers insisted on getting it. The orders as sent in were not filled, and retailers' orders on us were much larger than before. By and by we had no stock, and then, without any reason other than their own sweet will, prices went up again. It was a most outrageous piece of business from beginning to end.” “I am glad all the bad work is not done in guns,” said I, “but how is your stock? I think bull-dogs are going to advance.” “I suppose they are; look at this letter.” He handed me a letter from a New York house which read: New York,——, 188—. Messrs. Rhodes & Shively—Gentlemen: I have entered your order for 100 “Blank” Bull-Dogs at $2.85, prices guaranteed. Please send on specifications. A combination is about to be formed among the manufacturers, and prices will advance to $3.25. Yours respectfully, F.B. Combaway. This was news to me, so I opened the letter I had just received from home and read to him: “We have just got in a large lot of 'Blank' bull-dogs and you may cut prices to $2.65.” “Well,” said he, “what the devil does this man mean by sending me such a letter?” “He undoubtedly believed there was going to be an advance and booked you for 100 revolvers.” “What is your price on cartridges?” “Fifty-nine per cent.” “There is another smart combination. The cartridge association puts my competitor in the A class and gives him 50 and 10 off, but we, who have to sell in the same town and to the same men, can only get 50. It's the most childish and sickly combination that I ever saw. Manufacturers seem to sit up nights to see what infernal fools they can make of themselves. Now I tell you there are only two classes of dealers—wholesalers and retailers. If a man is a wholesaler he should have wholesaler's prices, and if he isn't he shouldn't. But your smart Aleck manufacturers want to rate them, as Bradstreet does, and give 12 1/2 off to the A class, 10 off to B, 7 1/2 to C, 5 to D, and list to E.” “But a man who buys 1,000 dozen axes ought to buy for less than he who buys but 100 dozen?” “Not a bit of it. If both men sell at wholesale they ought to be on one level, otherwise the smaller buyer can not hope to succeed. And I tell you it is much more to the interest of manufacturers that there should be six small houses in a town than one extra large house. Your large buyer is autocratic; he can break the market, and often does it to his own hurt, as well as to the damage of every one else. The average buyer is content to buy as low as his competitor, or if he gets a little inside price, keeps it to himself, lest his competitor shall know it.” “You seem to have figured it out pretty thoroughly.” “I have, and I know what I'm talking about. But of all the silly things manufacturers do, they never get quite so absurd as when they undertake to advertise.” “Please explain.”
HOPSBY, COCKLEY & CO., 20 Warren Street, New York City.“My name is Cockley,” he added. I had heard of him often, and was very glad to meet him, though I would have been still happier if he were not selling the Norwich revolvers. I always had a feeling that I stood a poor show when I was in direct competition with other salesmen in my line, and I never felt quite comfortable with them. “How is trade?” I asked. “Well, rather dull on the road; but they write me it is booming at home. We have a large South American trade that the elder Mr. Hopsby, being a fluent Spanish scholar, and author of that well-known work, 'Spanish As She Is Walked,' looks after, while young Mr. Hopsby looks after his father and me, and it keeps him busy.” “You have a good many lines beside pistols?” I asked. “Oh, yes; pistols are a side issue. I sold Deming 1,237 Waterbury watches, and Blossom a car-load of can-openers. I sell Pribyl here a ton of nail-pullers at a time. Did you ever see the Waterbury watch?” “I have not seen it lately.” “Then take these two; no, put them both in your pockets; I always give a man two, so he can check off one by the other. A Waterbury watch is one of the greatest blessings in the world. Babies can drop them; boys can throw them at each other, and women can use them as stocking-darners. Mr. Hopsby drops one into the contribution box every Sunday, and expects, in the course of a few years, to provide every young African with a time piece.” I didn't get it quite clear in my mind whether Cockley was guying me or not, but he looked as if he were simply trying to be sociable. “Have you been long on the road?” he asked. “No; this is my first trip.” “That so? You look quite at home. I remember my first trip; it was in New England, and I was selling sewing-machine needles. Mr. Hopsby took me around a corner before I started and, presenting me with a nail-puller, told me he was afraid he was doing wrong to send me out, I was so young; but that I was to remember that the only way to prosperity was in getting orders. It hadn't struck me in just that light before, but the more I thought it over the more I believed he was right. The first man I tackled was a pious-looking deacon, and I began to whistle 'The Ninety and Nine' as I went toward him, so that he might understand that I was a Bible class scholar. I worked over that brother for two mortal hours, and finally got mad. 'If you only played billiards,' said I, 'I'd lick you like thunder.' 'You can't do it,' said he, and in less than ten minutes we were at the table across the street. I was just more than walloping him, when suddenly I remembered the tearful injunctions of Mr. Hopsby. I let him beat me three games, and then sold him $60 worth of needles.” “You have been on the road a long time?” “Twenty-two years come Valentine's day.” I looked incredulous. “Oh, I began young. Chris. Morgan, George Bartlett, Sam Parmelee, Charley Healey, and I started on the same day. We now leave New York Saturday night, give Cleveland, Monday; Toledo and Detroit, Tuesday; Fort Wayne and Indianapolis, Wednesday; Chicago, Thursday; St. Louis, Friday; Cincinnati, Saturday; and are in New York for business the next Monday morning.” “That is fast traveling.” “Yes, but we have the trade educated up to it. We tell them 'no bouquets,' 'no parties,' but just orders. We telegraphed ahead to Toledo, the other day, so that while the train waited twenty minutes for dinner I sold three bills.” The was all said so honestly and so pleasantly that I had to believe he was sincere, but at the same time I knew it wasn't strictly correct, and I felt more and more uncomfortable. “How do you like this hotel?” “Pretty well; I'm not very particular.” “You will be when you have been ten or fifteen years on the road. Hotels are a large part of your life. I left word at the Julian House, in Dubuque, to be called at six o'clock, the other night, and about four I heard some one pounding away, so I asked what was up. The musical voice of the watchmen came back: 'It's now 4 o'clock, and I'm going off watch, so yees has two hours yet to sleep before 6 o'clock.' Now that struck me as a family arrangement, and I'm going to have it extended to other houses.” “There's something about hotels I don't like,” I said. “What's that? The whisky? It is poor here, but you will find it better farther West.” “No,” I said, “I'm not much interested in the whisky. What I dislike about hotels is the loneliness.” “Yes, that's so. For that reason I like to travel with a party. I get Brother Little, he sells Pillsbury flour, and is a first-rate player on the harmonica, and Al Bevins (the talented sleigh-bell artist), who plays on a $2 music box, while I play on a double police whistle equal to any man in America. We take possession of the parlor and invite the landlord's family in, and, I tell you, we make it home-like! How would you like to try a little concert here to-night?” I begged off most emphatically, and said I must go for business. “Hold on, we'll go together. Do you know any one here?” I confessed that I did not. “Neither do I; so we can be of great help to each other. I'll introduce you, and then you can introduce me.” I felt as if I stood a good chance of getting into some kind of a scrape before I got away from him; but off we started. We were going down the street when Cockley struck an attitude and pointed to a sign over the way: “I told you I knew no one; I was joking. There's a friend's. Let's go over and see Bewell. He'll be glad to see us and give us the whole town. He was in New York this spring, and we had a good time together studying up art. After he had once seen the game piece in Stewart's it was impossible to keep him away from it. I never saw men so devoted to aesthetics as he and Joe Gildersleeve were. He said the best way to see the picture was through a glass of rum and molasses, and he looked at it in that light about thirteen times a day.” I followed him in with some fear of a joke being played on me, but his manner changed at the door, and we met Bewell as if we were all deacons. He gave Cockley a very warm reception, as if thoroughly glad to see him. I concluded I was in the way, so with a promise to call later, I betook myself to another house. I did not meet Cockley again for many months. I thought him over when I had time, and was not surprised that I had always heard him spoken of as being a very successful salesman. The half-hour that we were together had made me like him, and the way that he went into Bewell's store showed me that he knew when to be dignified as well as when to be jolly. I especially liked the way in which he spoke of his partners; in my way of thinking this is one of the signs of a broad man. The small, petty-minded fellows are sure to have a complaint to make of their house or buyers or partners. In following Cockley's steps since I have always heard him pleasantly spoken of by merchants and travelers. I found the store, to which I took my way, a large wholesale hardware house. I observed as I entered that one man was very angry about something, while he talked to another whom I took to be his traveling man. I did not care to bother him until he was through, so nodded a good morning and took a chair. I soon found the man was angry over allowances the traveler had made in the previous week, and I was much interested and strongly in sympathy with him. “What did Labar say about the goods he returned?” he asked, as his eye caught that name in the list in his hand. “He claimed that he ordered dish-pans and that we sent rinsing-pans, and that the brushes were moth eaten.” “What did you tell him?” “I said as little as I could.” “I wish you had told him that he was a contemptible cur. A man who will lie over $4.80 worth of goods, after keeping them in his hands ninety days, and seeing you twice meantime without saying a word, is a mighty small man. He knew from the price what the pans would be, but he never thought of any such excuse until after we drew on him for his long overdue bill. Of course our kicking does no good, because other houses will sell him until they have similar experiences with him, and it will take a good while to go around. If I was as mean as some of these whelps I'd shoot myself. Did Simpson pay up?” “He paid the balance of the bill, but would not pay interest; said that we were the only house that charged interest, and he should never buy of us again.” “The miserable little liar! I don't suppose a house is in existence that lets a bill run five months after due and does not add interest. When are you going out?” “On the next train.” “Well, try and collect the balance due from Stone, but don't sell him another dollar; there are decent men enough in the trade, let the mean ones go. If he does not pay, get the name of a reliable justice and we will send a sworn account to him. But don't sell him again.” “They're good as wheat.” “I know they are good in the sense of being responsible; mean men usually are; but it is not a question of their responsibility; they are tricky and untruthful, and their idea of being smart is to lie over goods and prices and compel a deduction. Give them the go-by. Well, good-by; don't worry over trade; do your best and we will be satisfied.” As his man started off he turned to me with, “Well, young man, you look as if you wanted to sell me something.”
J. C. K., Burlington, has been in business here since 1880; came from Kokomo, where he failed and paid 40 cents on the dollar; is married, age about 42, habits good. Claims to have stock of $2,200, and to owe not to exceed $600. Is doing fair business, but his personal expenses are rather high, and it is said he is close run for ready means. Thought safe for small amounts, but bill should not be allowed to lapse.“Now this and my salesman's report don't tally very closely. Here is another case. My man sells John Johnes, of Dubuque, and writes: 'He has a grocery well stocked; says stock is worth $3,000, and no debts. His neighbors say he is sound as wheat.' But when Dun's report comes in it says:
Is a married man. Been in business alone and with partners for several years; means limited and estimated worth $500 to $800. Is regarded as an honest man, and it is believed he will do for a limited line.“Now I don't like an honest man who is worth $500 to $800, according to Dun, but who tells my man he is worth $3,000.” “You can usually depend on Dun, can't you?” “Yes, I think they sin on the right side; they are apt to make a man out as bad as they can. Here is one of their reports, as an instance:
F. Keef, saloon and grocery. He appears to be doing a good business; is in debt, but to what extent are not able to say. Had some claims against him here, but think he will pay. Has some energy and push in business. Has no real estate so far as known, and not considered sound financially.“You would not care to sell a man on such a report, would you? Yet that man is one of the best paying men on our books.” “Do not your salesmen call on the banks?” “Yes, I suppose they do, but let me tell you that banks are the biggest liars in existence. They often say a man is good when they know exactly to the contrary. My man sent in an order from L. Loeby, of LaGro, Kentucky; he wrote, 'Loeby is a sharp buyer, and said to be good. I called at the bank and they said he was A No. 1, and good for anything he buys.' Well, I got a report from Dun, and here it is:
L. Loeby, LaGro; age 35; married; been in business two years; fairly temperate and fairly attentive to business; character and business capacity moderate; it is said doubtful as to honesty; means in business, about $1,000; no real estate; on the $1,000 above listed as his means in business the bank here holds a chattel mortgage of $600; he has a large family, and of late he has not been paying his bills as they fall due.“You can see why the bank quotes him A No. 1. The more goods he gets the better is the value of their chattel mortgage. I have stopped putting much faith in what banks say about men.” “Are not the mercantile agencies almost always sure to find something against a man or a firm?” “No, sir; they have to give facts as near as they can get at them, and if there is nothing against a man they can not give anything against him. Take this report:
Darby & Chase, groceries and commission, Delphi. E. J. Darby and W. H. Chase compose the firm; seem to be men of good character and business capacity. They are thought to be worth $10,000 to $15,000.“That report probably gives the best general opinion in that community regarding that firm. Their character and business capacity are good, and they are prospering, evidently. But the mercantile agencies omit to tell us some very important points about men. A man may be financially all right, and yet be an undesirable customer, or one who ought to be handled with great care. Every report ought to tell whether the man is a smart Aleck or not; if he is mean about returning goods; if he makes unfair claims; if he is a chronic reporter of shortages; if he allows bills to run long past due and then refuses to pay interest, or exchange on drafts; all these points ought to be covered.” “Are you much bothered by such men?” “Every wholesale house is; no matter what line it is in, or who it is, the wholesale dealer has more or less of just such men to deal with. I know a retailer who invariably reports a shortage; he lies, of course, but he is fool enough to think he is making money because he beats every house out of a dollar or two every time he pays a bill. Here is a man whose bill was due November 30; I draw on him by express (his town has no bank) February 23, and add 25 cents to the draft to cover the cost of getting the money to me. I make no claim for interest although I have as good a legal claim for it as for the principal, but he refuses to pay my draft, and in a few days sends me his check on a country bank for the face of the bill. It cost me 25 cents to collect his check, and I paid 25 cents to the express company on the returned draft, so I get 50 cents less than my bill and lose the use of my money nearly three months after it was due me.” “Why didn't you draw through the nearest bank the day the bill was due?” “I didn't want to be so sharp with him; I felt kindly toward him, and supposed a little leniency would be appreciated, so I only sent a statement asking for remittance. And this is the way he repays me!” “Probably you gave him a piece of your mind.” “What good does it do? The drummer from my competitor will call on him, and if the dealer starts to run me down he will help him at it. We put up with things of this kind until the average retailer fancies he is real smart, and the meaner he is the smarter he will be considered.” “But isn't it your experience that shippers do make mistakes, and occasional overcharges are made?” “Certainly it is; not very frequently, but occasionally such things happen to us. But I don't write the factories as if they were pickpockets, and as if these errors were intentional. In thirty years' experience I never knew a house refuse to correct an error, and while I want all my discounts and extras to which I am entitled, I don't want one cent more than that. If I do not pay bills when due I expect to be drawn on, and have to pay the cost of the draft. If interest is demanded I pay it, and if it is not demanded I feel grateful to the house for letting me off.” “I think gunsmiths a mighty touchy set of men to deal with.” “They're no better and no worse than any one else. My neighbor told me last night that he had just received notice from an Iowa customer that he would not take a bill of dry goods, just sent him, out of the depot because they were charged one-half cent too much. He claimed the bill was one-half cent a yard on everything higher than the price agreed upon between himself and the salesman. The house is one of the most reputable in the State; the salesman is one of fifteen years' experience, and the prices are the same as he made to others in that town and all along the route. He says the retailer kept no copy of the order and goes entirely by guess. He does not write to ask the house if there is a mistake or not, but shows his smartness by announcing that he shall refuse to receive the goods.” “What will they do with him?” “Keen said the man owed them $700 on a past due note that they were carrying at his request; he said they would compel him to pay it up clean at once, and never go near him again. I hope it will bother him right bad to raise the money.” I apologized for having taken up so much of his time, but said I would be sorry to go away and not have a small order to show for it. I called his attention to Flobert rifles, interested him in them, and finally secured his order for a case. As we were finishing our talk a happy-looking pair came in the door, and I took up the morning paper while Mr. Clark went forward and greeted one of them, a Mr. Healey, very cordially, as if he were a very old friend, and then Healey, his eyes twinkling, said: “Mr. Clark, let me introduce my friend, Mr. Fuller. He is known far and near as 'And Forged Fuller, and he is also the owner and patentee of that celebrated washing compound, Fuller's Earth.” Clark laughed heartily as he shook hands with Fuller, who said: “I may say that my trade mark is 'Paragon;' heverybody hasks for it—” “Yes,” broke in Healey, “and nobody buys it!” “I may say,” said Fuller, placidly, “that Mr. Healey is wrong; I frequently sell a few. It's my trade mark, and known, I may say, in England as well as here.” “Yes,” said Healey, “Fuller lives on both continents, and brings the steel over in his grip. We have our examples at the hotel and shall be glad to have you come up there. Fuller don't care whether he sells or not; he is rich and traveling only to keep down his flesh.” Mr. Clark made an engagement with them and they went away. As they passed out he said: “There goes one of the most genial-hearted men on the road. I have known Charley Healey for about twenty years. He came out here representing Hilger & Son, and built up a good trade for that firm. Hilger could not have done it in a thousand years. Then that firm and Wiebusch consolidated, and Healey looked after their Western business. I never met a buyer who was not his friend, and I imagine most of them are, like myself, heavily in his debt for courtesies extended to us, not by way of business, but as if he were under obligations to us. I say to you that a good many houses never suspect the debt they are under to their traveling men, but look upon themselves as the great magnet that draws trade, when nine out of ten dealers care nothing whatever about the principals and buy entirely out of regard for the salesman.” I had heard many men speak in the same terms of Healey before, and I hoped I should meet him at dinner. As I bade good-by to Mr. Clark and thanked him for the order given me, he said: “Somehow you do not seem like a stranger.” I thanked him for that compliment most sincerely.
Now I have been hunting a good knife for twenty years, but too much “protective tariff” having shut out competition, we now only get such “pot-metal” cutlery as monopolists choose to give us; nice handles with hoop-iron or cast blades, not as good for $2 as the old “Barlow” knife boys could buy for a “bit” forty-five years ago. If yours are good I will be glad to get them, but if they are a cheat, I will call on you with a shot-gun, on my way to Canada, where I will then have to look for a good knife.“That man,” continued Rockwell, “believes what he says, probably, but a man of 45 who knows so little ought to be shut up in an idiot asylum. If we could have a law here as they do in England, permitting no goods to be labeled or branded as American-made unless they were made here, such a man would hang his head with shame at his injustice to home manufacturers.” I liked to hear Rockwell talk; he had a way of giving a sentence in a crisp, sharp way, and then half shutting his eyes for a moment, as if he was waiting to see what the other fellow would say and be ready with an answer. My friend spoke of him with great enthusiasm, saying his house had done business with him for many years, and looked upon Rockwell as one of the most growing men in the trade. In talking with him afterward about pocket cutlery, he said to me: “No cutlery factory in this country is paying a penny to its stockholders; we are looked upon by the free-traders as coining money, but our men are averaging twice the wages of the English, and three times those paid by Germany, and the labor is about eighty-five percent, of the cost of the pocket knife. The leading American makers turn out good goods, far above the average English or German; but the consumer is not able to tell whether he is using an American or foreign-made knife, because of the habit of branding everything with American names, and we have to bear the curse.” “Why is it that Meriden people hang together so?” I asked. “Do we?” he asked, laughing. “Perhaps it is because they're all such good fellows. The rich men there, and there are a good many of them, have always been ready to help any enterprise that came to the town and could make a fair showing. You will find the same men stockholders in a great many different companies; their salesmen help each other, and they are closely united socially. They work together and love their city.” I don't know any better eulogy to deliver upon a body of business men. Later in the day, a rather warm conversation near us drew us toward five or six men who seemed to be growing excited. A traveling salesman appeared to be giving a manufacturer some good advice. “You men,” said he, “seem to think you do a very smart thing when you go to these big buyers and give them an extra 10 per cent., but you don't seem to be capable of learning that in doing this you are cutting your own throats. Only a few months ago I was talking to Simmons. 'I don't like these low prices,' said he, 'nor to have everything down so close to cost; we can't get extra discounts as we can when prices are higher; the most we can get now under ordinary circumstances is 2-1/2 to 5 per cent.' 'How much do you think you ought to get?' I asked him. 'Ten per cent., at least,' said he.” “But he doesn't get it,” said the manufacturer. “Oh yes, he does, on a good deal of his stock. He must get it on your goods or he would not be quoting them at the price we pay you for them. We paid you $3.60 for the last lot we bought, and I saw a quotation from him on your goods at $3.62. He is no fool; he does not sell goods at cost. When I saw his quotation my price was $3.60 and will be $3.60 until we clean your goods from our shelves, and it will be a good while before any more of the same brand ever go back there again.” “But that is all nonsense,” said the other, “he buys the goods at exactly the same price your house does.” “Then it is time we quit them. If we have no protection on your goods we want to drop them.” “That's pretty tough,” said the other, half disposed to be angry. “I have no control over your prices; I sell your house as I sell him; I advertise the goods so that the jobber could make a profit if he would, but if he won't I cannot compel him to do it. The jobber has no idea of anything but to beat his competitor in buying and then beat him in cutting the price. Nothing counts in business but a 'cut.' I don't know where we are going to.” “Well,” said my friend, “suppose we go to dinner.”
HOW TO DO IT. Bundle up some of the unseasonable goods that are taking up valuable counter space, and put them away on the shelves. By this economy of space, and with the possible addition of a temporary counter, you have gained room enough to admit of the introduction of a “5c, 10c or 25c counter.” The next thing to do is to send to some reliable jobber for a bill of staple household sellers, with which you can mix hundreds of articles from your own stock; then send out a little circular (“dodger”) to the over-anxious inhabitants, telling them of a few of the articles to be found on your “Cheap Counter,” and they will respond as readily as though you had sent them free tickets to the circus. It matters not that they have not seen one of these counters before, there will be the same rush—the same scramble for first choice—the same telling of friends about bargains bought; and instead of sitting around waiting for the advent of spring, you will have pocketed a nice profit from your cheap counter, besides having worked off any amount of odds and ends that might have been in your store five years, and would have remained five years longer had not this modern wonder made an exit for them.“That sounds mighty like Ed. Butler,” said the dry-goods man.
All prices guaranteed. Privilege of increasing, decreasing, or countermanding No charge for boxing or drayage.“How was that for smartness?” “You say they failed?” “They did.” “They ought to have got rich!” “Yes, they are a fair type of the average buyer; it's cut here, screw down there, pare over yonder. No matter what your price may be, it's always, 'What are you going to do for me?' as if he must have a special cut. I showed Hibbard & Spencer's buyer a new tool the other day, and gave him my price. `What's the best you can do?' I told him that was the best I could do. 'But what is your price to Hibbard & Spencer?' As though every salesman must have laid away in a snug corner, a special price for that important firm! `I have given you my price; it is the best I can do with anyone.' They are not willing anyone shall make a cent but themselves; they want the whole apple, and are not willing to give the manufacturer the core.”
A MAN OF SAMPLES.
* * * * * * *But she did not die. She knew her husband. He begged of her to live, as only a man can plead whose soul is bound up in a woman's life, and whether love, or whether medicine, or whether care saved her, I do not know. But she lived. But Morgan informed Manning that his traveling days were over; that a new man must be engaged for that route. They found him, after diligent search, and much to the surprise of everyone connected with the house, he sold more goods for the firm than Morgan had ever done. The one who rejoices most at this is Morgan, who says he has made his last trip.
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