Twenty Years of Hus'ling
was comfortably well fixed, or at least in a fair way to prosper. How
well I kept my word will be seen farther on.
I remember during that siege, a coal and wood-dealer offered me a
position in his office at fifteen dollars per week, which I declined
with thanks, explaining that I had started out in life to "hus'le," and
try and accomplish something of my own accord; and to go to work in a
stupid, quiet business on a salary, at that late day, would be a
disgrace to the profession. He argued that I would be sure of a
comfortable living, anyhow. I agreed with him, but declared that I would
never be sure of anything beyond that; and I would rather live from hand
to mouth till such time as I could better my condition and possibly make
money rapidly.
I felt that to settle down on a salary in such a business would be the
means of falling into a certain rut, from which it would be hard to
extricate myself. And I have thus far never had occasion to regret
having taken that position.
About this time I received a letter from my mother anxiously inquiring
what business I had engaged in after quitting the hotel, and if we were
all comfortably fixed for the winter.
She closed by saying that as she had no picture of me since I was
eighteen years of age she wished I would have my photograph taken and
sent to her.
On reading this letter I remarked to my wife that I would send her a
likeness that would make her sick. I replied to her, agreeing to send it
as soon as I could have some taken. I also answered her questions as
to my business engagements and how we were situated, by saying that I
occasionally fell back on the furniture polish and did considerable
canvassing with it, but my principal business was hauling coke, and had
been all winter; and as for comfort, we had never before experienced any
thing equal to it.
After mailing my letter to her I wrote to the landlord at Adrian, where
I had left the old carpet-bag which had been my companion to New York as
well as on my first polish tour, and asked him to get it from the attic
of his hotel, and forward to me by express. He did so immediately.
I then borrowed a long linen duster about three sizes too small for me
from the "man Friday" employed in the drug store, and repaired to a
photograph gallery. I pulled my suspenders up as much as possible in
order to make my pants ridiculously short. I donned the linen duster and
with tight squeezing managed to button it around me, and turning up the
collar pinned it over with a long black shawl-pin. I put on my straw
hat, ear muffs, and heavy woolen mittens, struck as awkward an attitude
as possible with my toes turned in, and with the old carpet-bag in hand
was duly photographed.
While they were being printed I received another letter from my mother
congratulating us on our splendid success in making ourselves
comfortable during such a hard winter, and said we ought to be thankful
that the Lord had blessed us with so many comforts. But one thing in my
letter puzzled them all, and that was, what in the world I meant by
saying that my principal business was hauling coke. They couldn't
imagine that I had hired out as a teamster, and if I had, they couldn't
see how I could work for some one else and sell polish too. She said
when she read my letter Mr. Keefer declared that "that boy would keep
hustling and die with his boots on before he would ever hire out as a
teamster or any thing else." And he wanted her to find out at once what
on earth it meant. I answered in a few days, stating that I had spent
the greater portion of the winter hauling coke a distance of about a
mile in a wheel-barrow for our own use and that it took about a bushel a
minute to keep us comfortable. I enclosed my photograph, saying that I
had stopped on my way home from canvassing one afternoon and had it
taken just as I appeared on the street.
I also explained that at the last house where I had stopped they had
set the dog on me and he had torn a piece out of my linen ulster and I
hadn't noticed it till after the picture was taken.
I received an immediate reply to this letter acknowledging the receipt
of the photograph and making a few comments.
About the first thing she said was that her advice to me would be never
to let another winter catch me in Michigan, but to start South and try
to reach a locality where linen ulsters and straw hats were more adapted
to the climate.
She said she thought the mittens and ear mufflers were very becoming and
her first impulse was to send me a pair of Mr. Keefer's old rubber
boots, but on second thought had made up her mind that the tops would
hardly reach the bottom of my pants and had concluded that the shoes I
was wearing would be more becoming and much easier to walk in.
She concluded her remarks by saying she didn't see what objection I had
to burning wood or nice hard coal, instead of hauling coke so far in a
wheel-barrow; and asked how I liked "hus'ling" by this time. She also
said that I had carried the old carpet-bag so long that it bore a strong
resemblance to myself; and advised me to hang to it, as it might some
day be considered a valuable relic, especially if I should ever get rich
by "hus'ling," or become a member of Congress.
Although I felt that she had shown herself equal to the occasion, by
replying as she did, my answer to this letter was sufficient to let her
know that I asked no favors, and had no intention of doing so.
As soon as spring opened and moving and house-cleaning became the order
of the day, my business began to improve, and I made money fast. I
bought myself a nice suit of clothes, and other necessary wearing
apparel; and I moved my family back to Bronson, where I paid their board
and left them sufficient means to procure clothing and pay incidental
expenses.
I went to Toledo, expecting to canvass with my polish, and very soon
called on an old acquaintance who was telegraphing. While chatting with
him a gentleman came in and wrote a message to be sent to an auctioneer
at Cleveland, asking him to come to Toledo and travel with him. The
operator asked me if I would like to send the message, for a little
practice. I told him I would, and stepped inside the office to do so.
After reading it, I stepped forward and accosted the stranger with:
"What kind of an auctioneer do you wish to employ, sir?"
He replied that he was traveling with a large wagon that cost him
fifteen hundred dollars, drove four fine horses, employed two musicians,
was selling Yankee Notions, and needed a good man who could sell goods
on the down-hill plan, or "Dutch Auction," as some termed it. I told him
that I was an auctioneer, and would engage with him.
He asked me to step out and take a drink. I said: "Thank you, I don't
care for anything to drink."
"Well, come and take a cigar."
"Thank you. I never smoke, either."
He asked if there was anything I did to pass the time pleasantly. I
said:
"Yes, sir. I attend to business, when I have any to attend to."
He inquired what I was engaged in at the present time. I opened my
valise and showed him, and several others standing by, what I was
selling, and polished up an office desk to show its superior qualities.
He asked the price, and on being told, handed me a dollar and took two
bottles, after which I sold three more bottles to different gentlemen in
the office.
The auction man looked at me a moment, and then laughingly inquired if
I could talk as well on Yankee Notions as I could on polish. Then he
added that he couldn't understand how any man could make a living with
such a thing, and foolishly asked if I ever sold any of it.
I answered his question by asking if I had not sold him two bottles, as
well as three other men in his presence; and asked if he was in the
habit of buying everything he saw, whether he needed it or not. He said
he bought it because he thought it a valuable article to have in the
house, and was going to send it to his wife.
He asked what my price would be per week to work for him. I told him it
was strictly against my principles to work on a salary and would prefer
to engage on commission even if I didn't make as much money.
He explained that he usually remained in a town from three days to a
week and sold on the street during the evening and Saturday afternoons.
He offered me twenty-five dollars per week and all expenses, or five per
cent. on all my gross sales and all expenses. I accepted the latter,
provided he would not expect me to do anything but sell goods at the
times specified. This suited him and I started with him that afternoon
for the West. He informed me that the auctioneer he had been employing
drank too much liquor and was in consequence unfit for duty half the
time. I assured him that he would experience no such trouble with me.
He said that was one reason why he concluded to take me, and confessed
that had I accepted his invitation to take a drink he would never have
given me the position.
During our first ten miles' ride I was racking my brain for something to
say when I should jump up to make my first sale. I had never sold a
dollars' worth of goods of any kind at auction, and the only experience
of a similar nature that I had ever had was the four days' sale of prize
soap.
However, I valued that four days' experience very highly at that
juncture as I felt that it was experience, at any rate, and would no
doubt help me in the way of giving me self-confidence.
Fortunately for me, the first town we stopped at had the license so very
high that we could not afford to pay it, and decided to continue
westward and postpone our first sale till the next night. This gave me
an opportunity for further study, which I grasped eagerly.
I slept but little that night, but spent the time in manufacturing a
line of talk on the different kinds of goods handled by my employer, and
the preparation of a suitable opening speech.
At any rate, the next evening when we drove into Blissfield, Michigan, I
determined that it should be a success, although I dreaded the opening
of my first sale.
After supper we seated our musicians at the rear end of the wagon-box
and started on our parade around town.
Loud singing and the sweet strains of music routed every body in town.
I remember one song they used to sing that always took immensely. It was
to the tune of "Marching Through Georgia." The chorus was:
"Come out, come out, you hungry wearied souls.
Come out, come out, we're here to do you good.
We've marched from East to West, and North, and now we're going South,
To supply the wants of those way down in Georgia."
When we drove back to a convenient corner and lighted our immense
torches it seemed to me that the towns-people had turned out _en masse_
and gathered around us.
After one or two more pieces by the musicians my proprietor handed me
the keys and directed me to open up. I removed the covers from the top
of the goods and then began sorting them over carefully. I then laid off
my coat and again went through the goods.
Next I threw off my vest and sorted over more goods, till at last
realizing that the time had come when something must be said, I looked
knowingly over the vast concourse of people and then removed my hat.
A death-like stillness prevailed.
The cold perspiration stood out on my forehead in big drops.
Something about the size of a watermelon appeared to be in my throat.
I feared the sound of my own voice. My knees were weak, and knocking
together.
I looked over my audience the second time, and was about to venture to
say something, when I happened to think that I hadn't taken off my cuffs