A Man of Samples. Something about the men he met "On the Road" Part 13

"Is Brittan on the road now?"

"Guess not. The Big Three, Brittan, Rashgo, and Bond, work some kind of a syndicate, though, and make a good thing out of it. I met Brittan twenty years ago or so. He was a hard worker, good-natured, understood human nature and was a success. He represented several concerns, and used to make ten or twelve thousand clear a year. Finally he got into the lock factory."

"Most traveling men are crazy to get into something."

"Yes; that's so. We think if we had a shebang of our own we'd just make things fly; but we miss it oftener than we hit it when we do get the factory."

"You're right. The man on the road with a good trade and a good salary has a pretty good thing of it."

"Well, some men expect to strike it rich by silver stock. Do you know Al Bevins?"

"The sleigh-bell man? Yes, I know him well."

"Has he told you about the silver stock?"

"No."

"He has been investing in Deming's--"

"Oh, d--n Deming! He's a nuisance with his silver stock."

"Yes, but he gets the boys in all the same. Henley has bought a lot in Providence on the strength of his investment, and Deacon Hall, of Wallingford, will buy out Wallace when his dividends come in. Bevins says it's better than sleigh-bells, and Al knows how to run a factory."

"Still, some of the men at the factories are born idiots. You can't teach them anything. If the managers were compelled to make one trip a year they'd find out a good deal. Here's my ax trade. I've been cussed from one end of the trip to the other. My orders for October s.h.i.+pment were billed about January 1. And it's the same way year after year. I swear, I often wonder that I get any orders at all! They d.a.m.n me in February, and yet they give me new orders in May. But it is sickening to hear the same story over and over, year after year."

"What excuse do they offer at home?"

"Oh, it's never two years alike. One year the streams dry up; then the foreman is discharged; then they booked too many orders."

"A little thing happened that riled me when I was last home. A customer ordered a certain spoon, using a special number of his own, on the 18th of May. I was in the shop late in June, and the s.h.i.+pping clerk asked me what spoon that was! Here he had held the order six weeks before he took steps to find out what the man wanted. I gave him a piece of my mind."

"Talking of spoons, do you ever run across Kendrick, of Mix & Co.? I traveled with him a few years ago."

"He sticks close to the factory. There is an instance where the traveling man took the management of the factory to good purpose. I don't believe there is a better-managed business anywhere. Kendrick has become a deacon in the church, with a weather eye out for fast horses."

"Talking of spoons reminds me of Father Parmelee, of Wallingford. Do you know him?"

"Who, Sam? Yes, indeed."

"We were in Detroit together, and the way Parmelee talked William Rogers was enough to drive a man crazy. He's just chock full of William Rogers, and I'll bet he'll want Rogers on his plated grave-stone."

"Parmelee is one of the kindest-hearted men on the road. I never heard him say a bitter word against any one; I never knew him to bore any one; I never heard a merchant speak other than kindly of him. He travels for a big house, but they probably do not know how much of their business in the West is due to Parmelee's push and tact. He has been a long time traveling, and I always like to meet him."

When the two men went away I ruminated over what they had said, and I laid up several points for my own use. I was especially glad to hear them praise other traveling men. It's a mighty good sign of any man to find him generous in his praise of others. I thought this all over as I started down the street to find Shull & c.o.x and try to sell them 100 bull-dogs. I caught their sign and marched boldly in, wis.h.i.+ng there was a law on the books that would compel every dealer to give a salesman an order whether he needed goods or not.

A young clerk was at work near the door, so I asked if the buyer was in.

"That's him over there with that drummer."

"Is it Mr. Shull or Mr. c.o.x?"

"That's Shull; c.o.x won't be here for an hour yet; he don't get up till the school bell rings."

I saw the young man was talkative, so I prodded for more information.

"Who is that drummer?"

"I don't know his name; he's selling revolvers from More & Less, of New York."

This was fun for me, and I wished I was out of the way, and out of the town. I concluded that the best thing I could do would be to interview some one else immediately, and I started off at once.

CHAPTER XV.

I think a man often does better work when he is spurred on by anxiety.

I had seen More & Less's man in the store across the street, so I determined I would do my best at Bingham's and not get whipped out of the town. Mr. Bingham met me as if he wished I was somewhere else, but I was too eager to sell to care very much about his manner. I told him my story as well as I could, and insisted that if he needed anything in my line I could do him good.

"I don't need anything," said he, "but what is all this talk of the M.

H. & Co. revolver?"

"It is coming into prominence," I said, "and Jim Merwin gave it a big boom in Cleveland the other day. McIntosh took him before the Police Board, and they say Merwin outdid Buffalo Bill. McIntosh says the Chief of Police took a Smith & Wesson, and Merwin a M. H. & Co., and each tried to shoot the other with empty sh.e.l.ls, Jim grabbed the Chief, emptied his revolver of the sh.e.l.ls and rammed the pistol in his ear until the Chief yelled for mercy. Merwin gave such a war dance that they had to call out the fire department to cool him down. He secured the city's order for an outfit for the police, and M. H. & Co.

stock has gone up since then."

"Do you sell them?"

"Yes, at factory prices."

"Pho! All you men talk factory prices."

"I mean factory prices."

"Well," said he, "I'm going to buy of Simmons after this; he beats the factories. His New England man--"

"His what?"

"His New England man. Didn't you know he had opened a Boston office and now drums New England?"

"I hadn't heard of that."

"Oh, yes. St. Louis is going to run the country on hardware hereafter and on guns. Simmons' New England man says they do a big business there; dealers buy bills of $8.87 down. Their New York office isn't open yet, but it's coming; they want Sam Haines as manager, or J. B.

Sargent. They do things up big down there."

"How many M. & H. revolvers can I send you?"

"Don't want any now; just asked out of curiosity."

This was discouraging, but I opened my price-book at A, and called his attention to every item in it, but to everything received the same answer, "Got it." I began to get desperate.