CHAPTER IV.
The Contemptible Piano Tuner—The Biographical Write-up Fake—The Flattered Blacksmith.
“There are tricks in all trades but ours,” quoted the doctor that night, when he had returned to the hotel.
“And I suppose the reason there are no tricks in our trade is because there is positively no epidermis to hold them. It is trickery and nothing else.
“Nevertheless, there are tricks; and there are other tricks. I have no patience with the others. My principle, as I have already explained, is to always give a man the worth of his money at ordinary, every-day market prices. If an emergency arises when I can’t do that I try and see that he receives no damage. The fakir that sells a tooth-wash which will eat the enamel off the first application, and crumble the teeth to the gums by the third, deserves to be hung.
“It is a little strange,” he added, reflectively, “how some of the gang can talk the senses out of the average individual, and make him see that black is white. I don’t approve of such methods, and it rather gratifies me when I see a fakir of that class come to grief.
“I remember once, when I was selling bibles up in Minnesota, I had the extreme pleasure of seeing one of the meanest, most contemptible little scoundrels of the species arrested and brought to justice. On the chance of making a trifling ten dollars for himself he had done more than that much damage, which he did not know how to properly repair, and possibly ruined a six hundred dollar instrument. And he seemed to have been working the scheme right along until he was accidentally caught up by a young lady—upon whom I happened to call, in the midst of the wreck, for the purpose of introducing my fine line of cottage bibles.
“You understand, I love a fine piano, and have a sneaking regard for an instrument of almost any kind. But this was, or had been, a good one, and the way the fellow temporarily ruined it was this:
“The house stood by itself, with vacant lots on either side. He walked up to the front and knocked. When the young lady came to the door he looked up inquiringly, and then slowly and in a disappointed manner, as though speaking to himself, remarked:
“‘I can’t understand it.’
“‘Understand what?’ asked the young lady.
“Before answering he consulted a card in his hand, which had some penciling on the back.
“‘Why, I am the traveling tuner of the Mittlebache Piano Company. Yesterday somebody sent an order to me at the hotel to call at number 413, this street. There is no such number, I see; but as this is 415 I thought I would drop in and see if you were not the lady.’
“‘No, sir; I am not,’ was the answer.
“‘By the way, what is the name of your piano?’
“‘Oh, mine is rather an old one. It is called the Wilson,’
“‘You don’t say so. I hardly expected to find one of them in this part of the country; but it is the coming instrument. We carry a line of them at our headquarters. Wilson seems to be the one man who has mastered the art of making a piano which improves by age. The instrument ought to be like a violin in that respect, but you know, of course, that the output of the average piano manufacturer is not.’
“While carrying on this conversation he walked into the house, the lady remarking:
“I supposed the make was out of the market. I never hear of it now at all, and this is the only one I ever saw,’
“‘Not at all, not at all; Wilson is conservative, and don’t want to put out any more pianos than he can build on honor. I understand he always has orders ahead for a year. I should have thought you would have noticed in the papers the account of the magnificent ones he has lately put in the White House. He don’t advertise; he don’t have to. No piano manufacturer does until his sales fall off. Ah, yes. One of the early make; but it ought to be a good one, nevertheless.’
“By this time he was on the stool, fingers spread out, and he ran over the scales for a moment, at a great rate, a frown gradually darkening his face.
“‘Who in the world tuned this piano?’ he asked.
“The lady mentioned the name of the tuner, and added that it was some months since he had done the work.
“I should think so. It’s not in tune even a little bit, and sounds as though there was something wrong inside. Don’t you want me to fix it for you? I’ll do the tuning for one dollar, and straighten up everything else for a trifle. I’ve a little time to spare before dinner, as it don’t seem likely that I can find that lady. Only one dollar for the tuning.’
“The colossal cheek of the man, and the low price he named for the work, naturally had their effect, and she looked at him hesitatingly. He turned up his cuffs and asked for a piece of flannel with which to dust off the piano, remarking in a jocular way that he would not charge for doing that.
“Unsuspectingly, the young lady hustled off for the flannel, and while she was out of the room he quickly opened the instrument and slipped in a small, artificial mouse’s nest, at the same time snipping a few wires, perhaps doing more damage than he intended. When she returned he was already to show her in what a horrible condition the mice had got her instrument.
“At such a point in the game he usually talked so glibly and smoothly and worked the nerves of his poor victim up to such a tension that she gladly employed him to renovate the affair, and paid him ten dollars, without question, for the work of an hour or so.
“In this case he failed; first, because the young lady had not been entirely hypnotized; and second, because there was neither mouse, rat, nor roach in their house.
“This fact she knew, and that in the interim her instrument had been tuned. She looked the villain in the face and charged him with the full enormity of his rascally act; whereat, he turned and fled.
“I happened on the scene a few minutes later, and it may be it was my counsel which brought the offender to justice.”
Such was the story of the doctor, and he told it with a vim and gusto that made me believe he was in earnest in his denunciation of such a questionable style of faking. I then and there vowed to myself to avoid that class of work; and ever after kept the vow—except in cases of unavoidable necessity.
The question which presented itself to my mind was, what were we to do next. In spite of what Carter had said about always keeping a stock ahead, it seemed to me he had about reached the end of his resources—in other words, he had sold out all his stock in trade. The pens were exhausted, so was the sheet music, so was the soap. I asked him what he intended to do next.
Well, you see, my son, I have been out some time, and had thought of winding up the present campaign and taking a run to New York to look up novelties. I have done first rate this fall, and have a pretty good wad to buy with for the winter’s work.”
“But you can’t keep on through the winter, can you?” I asked, thinking the question would be apt to draw him out and increase my store of knowledge.
“The work goes on, but it is of a different kind. But, as I was going to say, I will stay out a little longer, for the sake of your education; and you will learn that a person in our line of business is not dependent on capital, whether in the shape of money or goods. His brains must be his mainstay and dependence, and the more he knows in the way of general education the better it will be for him. You have a great deal to learn, and if you want to be a success in the field to which you seem to have been called you won’t have an idle moment you can call your own. For the remainder of the week I shall proceed to boom and advertise a town. There is good money in it, although it is not every one who is fitted to work the racket. It takes a man of not only good knowledge of human nature, but of wide experience and considerable journalistic ability.”
Accordingly, the next day we set off for the town he had selected, and which he assured me had not been worked after the fashion he proposed.
B——. was a thriving little city of three or four thousand inhabitants, which had several newspapers that were fairly well supported. The history of this place Dr. Carter already had at his finger ends, and the names of the prominent citizens were more than familiar. He had already looked the ground over, or had it looked over, I was not certain which. This saved him some little time, though I believe he could have gone in, a perfect stranger to every soul, and still met with as thorough a success. I have done it myself more than once when no more promising field of operations appeared to be open.
Our first business call was upon the editor whom Carter had chosen as his local helper.
He introduced himself as Dr. Carter, of the Eastern Globe, out to write up the country and its resources for his paper, but meantime with an eye open for the profit of himself and friend. To describe his scheme briefly, he proposed to the editor, who was also proprietor, to get out a special number of the Daily Hornet, in which should be given a write-up of the city and its business men, the doctor to do the soliciting and literary work, and receive his end of the profits.
Country editors are always susceptible to the word profits, since, with few exceptions, I have found them seriously affected with shortness of cash, and ready to turn an honest dollar at any hour of the day or night.
Mr. Mathews, of the Hornet, was no exception. After the doctor (or professor, whichever you choose to call him) had held him under fire of his verbal battery a short time he made unconditional capitulation, and started out with us to make introductions, gather materials, and prepare the way for contracts.
A few moments’ observation convinced me that the editor was as great a fakir as ourselves, even though he did not wear the badge on his sleeve.
He introduced Mr. Carter, of the East, as of the editorial staff, detailed to make observations through the state with a view to a writing up of its most promising and prominent business men and institutions.
“I have induced him to stop at B——. long enough to give me the assistance of his valuable pen in writing up our city and its noted people, a plan which I have long had in contemplation. I shall get out a special edition of twenty thousand of the number containing the article, and while copies will go all over the state, I shall see that every family in the county is supplied. They will be kept for reference, and I need hardly tell you will be of incalculable value to all parties concerned. We are around interviewing a few of the leading citizens on the subject, and I do not expect to find any difference of opinion as to the importance of the matter.”
The very nature of such an approach was enough to give the prospective customer the swelled head. It pleased him that he was recognized as a solid pillar of the town, and he usually took the bait with a smile, and said:
“Certainly, gentlemen, what can I do for you?”
With that question the editor retired from action, and Carter stepped to the front. He explained that a country was known better by its people than by its natural advantages, and that one live—really and truly live—business man was worth more to a town than a million dollars in capital. There could not be many in B——., but there were some who were influential and prominent, and he proposed to place their biographies where they would be of public record. Of course, their present host was of the number who would receive early attention.
Mixed in with this, and following it, and all around it, was a running fire of questions as to when the gentleman was born, where raised, what great deeds he had performed, how he served in the war, getting in a brief way his whole life and career from the time he was born until the present day, as well as the particulars of the business in which he was engaged. All this, of course, without asking for financial support.
Other calls were made of a similar nature—a good many of them, in fact. And then Professor Carter went to his room at the hotel armed with a battery of pens, ink and paper and began to write. He wrote rapidly and in extravagant praise of the business men of B——. The first sketch read something like this:
“Mr. John Smith, the subject of this sketch, was born in Jim Crow township, Boozer county, Indiana, just fifty-six years ago. When only a boy his father died, forcing him to enter active life at a very tender age. His lot was cast with a blacksmith, and he began with indomitable energy to work his way up. Today Mr. Smith is not only one of our leading business men, but has one of the best equipped blacksmith shops in the state, and enjoys the reputation of being the best horse-shoer in the valley of the Mississippi. At the breaking out of the civil war Mr. Smith enlisted in the —— Indiana Regiment of Volunteers, taking part with the regiment in seventeen different battles. For an act of bravery, in which he carried the flag under a heavy charge, President Lincoln wrote him a personal letter, commending him for the deed. Mr. Smith is one of the pioneers of this city, having lived here ever since the close of the war, so that his name is a household word in B——. Although Mr. Smith is 56 years old, married happily, and has a large family, prominent in social circles, he is still a young looking man, of most prepossessing appearance, public spirited, a leader of men, and universally recognized as the most prominent and logical candidate for mayor at the ensuing election.”
When these articles were written the really serious business of the campaign was at hand. For instance, Carter took this copy to Smith, showed it to him, and read it over for personal correction and approval.
Of course, Smith was pleased.
Doctor Carter tells him he intends to put his engraved picture above the article, and that it is expected the citizens will help out liberally on the enterprise, which not only does justice to them, but will attract attention to the town.
Mr. Smith probably subscribed for fifty copies—twelve dollars and a half—and put up five dollars more, and a photograph, in order that his likeness might grace the pages of the Hornet supplement. If he had been the proprietor of a large mercantile establishment the tariff would most likely have been as much more. Every relative of Mr. John Smith, to the third and fourth generation doubtless received a marked copy of that paper.
Of course, an edition which exceeded the normal output by at least twenty fold was valuable for legitimate advertising, and its space per inch worth a sum which, compared with ordinary numbers, was almost fabulous. Of that fact, Mr. Matthews no doubt made his account, but with it we had nothing to do. When the last bill for write-ups and “cuts” (on these a profit of two to five hundred per cent. was made) had been collected to the uttermost farthing, the doctor professed himself as satisfied, and prepared to move out in search of “fresh fields and pastures green.”
And now the hour of our parting was at hand, and I was to find myself once more adrift, though this time more ready and capable to take up the battle and fight for a fortune.