The Tales of a Traveler/Part 1
PART I
Early Struggles
T the suggestion of a few of my florist friends, I am undertaking to write a series of reminiscences of road life during the past thirty years. As I look back over that period of time, it occurs to me that many things have transpired in horticulture, as well as in other lines of human activity, and that they may prove interesting reading, especially to the younger generation of florists whose existence I never dreamed of when I first took up the work of soliciting orders for immortelles, cape-flowers, wheat-sheaves, doves, etc.
First "Job"
It was in the late '80's—about 1888—that I secured a "job" with an insignificant florists' supply house in Philadelphia, long since out of existence, at the munificent sum of ten dollars per. I say I secured a job, advisedly; for in those days, unlike the present time, jobs were by no means waiting for the man. As a matter of fact, there were dozens of men waiting for every job, and the wages paid would startle a newly arrived immigrant. That job proved the beginning of my career, and of my association with horticulture. I was determined there and then to put forth my best efforts, to work hard and untiringly in order to prove to my employer that my assurances to him of giving him the very best in me were fully justified. The cupidity of human nature was well demonstrated by my first boss (may his ashes rest in peace!). Despite the good work I was doing, and my untiring efforts at all times in behalf of his interests, he could never "see his way" to increase my salary by the sum of one or two dollars in order to enable me to provide a little more comfortably for my small family.
My first work was in the city of Philadelphia. Determined to succeed, I visited every flower shop, never hesitating to intrude myself upon men well up at that time in the business. I had but one aim in view, and that was to succeed. And right here I cannot refrain from saying a few words to my younger friends on the road about the importance of studying human nature before attempting to solicit an order. There is nothing that will impress a buyer less favorably than the intrusion of a young man with his samples at a time when business is at a rush. I gained that knowledge after being two weeks out, and I have profited by it ever since. One must know, too, the calibre of the man approached. There are many men of many minds; some will give you a hearing at once, and others again will give you a stare which tells you more eloquently than words to get out. Know your man, my young friend, and your battle is half won.
Earliest Experiences on the Road
About the beginning of December, 1888, it occurred to my employer to venture me out on the road. That was a new departure in my life. To go on the road—how inviting and attractive the idea seemed to me! I boarded the train one fine morning at Broad Street Station, my first destination being Columbia, Pa. There, to my delight, I found two florists, Mr. Ahern, a very estimable old gentleman who is still continuing the business, and a Mr. Purple, who has long since discontinued. My experience with the first customer proved very encouraging indeed, and I shall always remember with feelings of gratitude Mr. Ahern's kindly manner and words in receiving me. As a matter of course, I had the best and the cheapest line in existence at that time—have you ever met a young salesman who didn't? My immortelles had the most perfect color, my doves were all but alive. Mr. Ahern smiled amiably, evidently taking into consideration my youth and exuberance, and gave me an order. I have taken many orders since, and some about a hundred times the size of that first one; but I cannot recall any order that ever gave me as much pleasure, encouragement, and enthusiasm as Mr. Ahern's did. My gratitude goes out to Mr. Ahern to this very day, for events in themselves insignificant have often helped to shape the career of many a man.
My experience with Mr. Purple was not quite so encouraging, although in his case, too, I did not leave empty-handed..
From Columbia to Lancaster is but a few miles, and there I went next. At Lancaster I succeeded in getting a few more orders, in themselves of no great account, but in the aggregate quite sufficient to encourage both my employer and his employee. I was on the road to success; I felt that hard work and perseverance would do the trick. On that trip I made Harrisburg, Lebanon, Reading, Allentown, and Easton, and returned to Philadelphia proud of my achievements. I had done my share in every town, introducing a new and unknown concern at the same time.
The Rise in Salary that Looked Big
For the next ten days we were busy as the proverbial bees—that is, my employer, our errand-boy, our basket-maker (an old and very cranky German) and myself; for the Christmas orders had to be sent out on time. Some things had to be made, and many another article purchased from other supply houses. We got through with our work in due time, and from the smile that expanded my employer's face, I could easily infer that he was quite pleased with his "hired man." In fact, on Christmas morning he handed me a five dollar bill by way of a gift, and in addition increased my salary, to take effect from the first of the year, by one dollar a week.
"Peddling" Baskets
In January, 1889, following the example of one of the largest florists' supply houses in this country, situated right here in Philadelphia, my employer conceived the idea of manufacturing a line of splint-baskets, trimmed with straw (the older generation of florists may recall that line of goods), for the Easter candy trade in Philadelphia. It was the custom at that time, as it is to some extent today, for candy shops to make a display of baskets in the windows, filled with eggs, young chicks, rabbits, etc. It devolved upon me, to my utter dismay and disgust, to trudge all day long through the streets among the candy shops, with a line of baskets of all sizes and shapes strung on a rope, and hung over my shoulders. I remember one day meeting a couple of my particular friends who thought me capable of better things. I became quite confused, and felt a sense of humiliation not justified, perhaps, but certainly wholly natural. I was determined, however, to make a success even in this case; and for three long months I worked among the candy shops of Philadelphia as well as among the florists, returning every evening to my employer with orders, and to my humble home weary and disgusted.
Thoughts of Making a Change
It was about this time that I determined to make a change. I had been with that concern about eight months. Having had some experience as a salesman, I thought I was quite ready to be taken up by a larger house. I made my application, but met with no success. The house in question gave me to understand that they had all the salesmen they needed, and that considerable traveling was being done by one member of the firm. There was no other alternative left but to stick to the first job until something, somewhere, might turn up.
Trip to Baltimore
In April, 1889, my employer, who was in the habit of working Baltimore every month, bethought himself to try me and see what I could accomplish. He gave me to understand that if I did well in Baltimore I should go to Washington, Petersburg, Richmond and Norfolk. My delight knew no bounds, for as compared with playing pack-horse to a string of baskets, carrying a sample case into new and unexplored fields was an alluring adventure.
I landed in Baltimore one rainy morning, but rain and sunshine were of no consideration. I was too full of my undertaking to be restrained by the weather. I saw the Baltimore trade, seeing the store men during the day, and working the small places on the outskirts late into the evening. Orders came my way. I felt encouraged, and more determined to keep the good work up.
On to the National Capital
Three days in Baltimore sufficed. From there I went to Washington—to the National Capital. I well remember the impression when I first beheld the brass star at the old Pennsylvania depot, marking the spot where Garfield fell, after being shot down by the assassin. Washington, like many another city, during the past generation has advanced rapidly in every particular. The streets are finer and more attractive than at that time; the new hotels are luxurious. I shall touch more on the subject of hotels as I proceed.
In those days there were but few flower stores in Washington. There were Small & Sons, Hale, Freeman, and a few others. The most successful florists of today in Washington were at that time just about starting. There are Gude Bros., for example. When I first called on the Gude Bros., the genial Adolph was just about completing his first or second house, and it was a modest little plant at that. Will Gude was his able assistant. When I first beheld them, I felt intuitively that these young men were destined to make their mark in the world of horticulture. That my intuition was correct is well attested by the modern plant they have established at Anacostia, and their magnificent store, one of the finest in Washington.
About that time I also met Fred Kramer. Young Fred (and by the way, he is still as young as ever) impressed me as being very kind-hearted, considerate, and an enthusiast. If, for example, an article of merchandise pleased him, he immediately saw possibilities of using a quantity—a large quantity, in fact. As it turned out invariably with him, he was never disappointed in his undertakings. Fred has splendid qualities, chief of which is sincere friendship for anybody who wins his confidence.
F. R. Freeman was of a somewhat reserved nature, at first not easily approached, but upon closer acquaintance, as was proved in my case, a whole-souled, genial man.
Experience in Richmond and Norfolk
My experience in Richmond was of but short duration. With all due deference to the progressive spirit of that Southern city, and its many other attractive features, in my case it proved somewhat of a hoodooed town; in other words, I could never accomplish any results in Richmond. It is not unlikely that older houses that had preceded me managed to hold on to their trade, despite my efforts to divert it in some measure my own way.
In Norfolk my success was varied. As I succeeded during my first trip in making a few good sized sales, my employer determined to have me work Norfolk, along with Baltimore and Washington, every month. Of the florists I saw in Norfolk at that time, not one is in existence today. There were Taggart and Wilbur, true type of Southern gentlemen, ever polite, considerate and amiable. Mr. Taggart was a man of few words, at first impressing you as being somewhat suspicious of the wiles and methods of an enthusiastic salesman, but by degrees relenting and reposing full confidence in the man who came up to his promises.
A Lecture on the Evils of Drink
It was the custom at that time to be sociable, in the sense of inviting a customer who favored one with an order to a social drink. I thought it was my duty to extend the invitation to Mr. Taggart, and thereby strengthen the favorable impression which it seemed to me I had made upon him. But horror of horrors! Mr. Taggart proved to be not only a teetotaler, but a strong Prohibitionist as well. The stare he gave me, and the lecture he felt in duty bound to deliver me there and then upon the evil of drink and all the evils real and imaginary consequent upon drink, were enough to make a teetotaler of me for the next few weeks at least. I do not mean to imply that I am a drinking man; there is nothing more abhorrent than a traveling salesman approaching his customer with a whisky breath. Young men who have not as yet formed their habits should by all means abstain from these evils, for if anything will hamper success for a traveling man on the road, drink will accomplish it. Of course that has nothing to do with the man of self-control taking an occasional drink.
And there was Mrs. Nye, a woman with some pretense to true Southern culture, who prided herself among other things on entertaining Grand Duke Alexis, of Russia, with his suite, on his visit to this country in '76. At that time she still lived in her Southern home, in North or South Carolina—I don't remember which—on a place that proved a veritable paradise for nimrods, foreign as well as domestic. She showed me with a sense of pardonable pride the autograph which the handsome prince inscribed in her album. Upon telling her that I was, myself, a countryman of the famous Russian, she deemed it her duty to give me an order, asking me to call again.
Then there was Mrs. Reynolds, since succeeded by Mr. Blick. Mrs. Reynolds was a woman of ordinary common sense, hard-working, business-like, and good-hearted. I was always sure of her patronage, though now and then she was inclined to find fault with one thing or another.
Mr. Dickman, originally a New Haven man, had settled in the South a few years prior to my travels. He was more or less of a nondescript character, and a man of impulse. As it suited his fancy, a traveling man was received favorably or otherwise. His career in Norfolk was of the shortest duration of all those parties mentioned.
Florist Emerson at Lynchburg
In Lynchburg, Va., I met a florist by the name of Emerson, and his amiable wife, both of whom proved unique. Mrs. Emerson proceeded to tell me her family history, mentioning incidents of the Civil War that were very interesting. Mr. Emerson was an actor by profession, and he played in "An American Cousin" at the time Abraham Lincoln was shot by Booth. Among others, he was arrested and locked up for a few days in Washington. Later he was released, and betook himself to his native town, where I met him. For some reason he himself could not give, he "picked up the program of the play in Lincoln's box, stained with the martyr's blood. That program was later reproduced in the Century Magazine, in the biography of Lincoln, which Nicholas and Hay wrote, about a quarter of a century ago, and which first appeared in instalments.
Trip Through Western Pennsylvania
In May, 1889, I took a trip through Western Pennsylvania, as far as Pittsburgh. There I met for the first time such people as P. S. Randolph, A. W. Smith, Fred Burki, the Elliot Co., Mrs. E. Williams, the Ludwigs, and others—florists who have made a great success and are still in active service. Pittsburgh impressed me at the time, and I have never had occasion to change my impression, as a live, progressive and hustling city. Although somewhat out of season, and notwithstanding the fact that I was at that time a stranger among strangers, I found business quite encouraging.
The Johnstown Flood—Fortunate Escape
From Pittsburgh, I began to work my way homeward, since my employer intended to revisit his native city of Cologne, in Germany. My first stop after leaving Pittsburgh was Johnstown, Pa., and had I by chance arrived there a week later, I might not at this moment be here to tell the tale. For it was just one week later, the 30th of May, to be accurate—that one of the greatest disasters that ever befell any city in any land, overwhelmed Johnstown. The town was simply swept out of existence, and even such substantial buildings as the Commercial Hotel, where I stayed at the time, were swept down by the flood, many a traveling man meeting his doom in the angry waters. At Johnstown, I well remember, I chanced upon a temperance meeting in the public square one evening. As I recall the incident now, the exhortation of the speaker seems almost prophetic. He denounced alcohol in all its forms, and advocated in its place pure water; they were soon to have enough, and more than enough, of that!
In Johnstown I made one customer, a man named Lupke; and the box of goods sent to him was swept away in the whirlpool. The man saved his life. Another florist, a Mr. Ackers, was less fortunate. A week prior to the disaster, he promised me some business in the Fall, but he never lived to keep his promise. He was among the thousands that were drowned.
Johnstown As It Is Today
Johnstown today is altogether a different city from the Johnstown twenty-eight years ago. The narrow unattractive streets, the low and crooked buildings, are no longer to be seen. In their stead there are wide streets, beautiful homes, magnificent business blocks, modern hotels, cafes, theaters, and so on. In every respect, Johnstown bears the stamp of progress and prosperity. The florists of Johnstown today are likewise different from those of a generation ago. T. Malbranc has a modern greenhouse plant and produces excellent stock. Mrs. Malbranc presides over the store, and attends to that end in a manner that does her credit. Schmidt the Florist, on the hill, has an extensive greenhouse establishment, where the stock produced never lacks in quality His young son-in-law, Mr. Walker, is the presiding genius in the downtown store, a store that would do credit to a much larger city. William Schrader is a successful grower, as well as a successful business man. His place is always a model of neatness and scrupulous care. Like the others he has a store in town, and does a good business. Herman Neissner, the dean of the florists in Johnstown, whose place existed long before the flood, pays especial attention to decorative work, although he, too, has a greenhouse establishment a short distance from Schrader's place, where cut flowers and bulbous stock are being grown successfully.
In June, 1889, my employer left for Europe, leaving me in full control of the establishment. I attended to orders, collections, banking, and the rest of it. My interest was, perhaps, too well centered in that establishment to suit at times the convenience and comfort of my own little family. In other words, in this case it proved not only business before pleasure, but also another man's business before duty to my own. Upon his return from his trip during the month of August, he found all things satisfactory, and from his manner I gathered that my chances were pretty good for an advancement of another weekly dollar.
Extensive Trip Through the West
One fine day in September my employer held a consultation with me on the subject of an extensive trip through the middle West. He was one of those men, to be met with in every-day life, who had a sort of hesitancy, amounting almost to fear, about any new undertaking. Such men, though they may have good ideas, and plan things, always hesitate about carrying out their plans and ideas, and wish someone else to share the responsibility. He wanted to know, in the first place, if I had confidence in my success. In the second place, he tried to impress upon me in his own peculiar manner the need of economy and hard work. I could well give him my assurance as to the latter, but could not possibly undertake to insure him against my failure to produce results. He finally decided, after some reflection, to make the venture. I was to start by way of Maryland, and wind up goodness only knows where. The route wasn't very definite, and he left it largely to me to come out on the right side of the ledger.
My knowledge of the geography of the country at that time was rather limited, but I determined to consult every folder of every railroad in existence; and after making up a list of towns, crossing out some and inserting others, I mapped out my route. I left Philadelphia on the 10th of September, and on the 15th, on a Sunday (my first Sunday away from my family) I stopped at Hagerstown, Md. My success the first week was in noways marked, though on the whole I managed to pay my salary and expenses.
Hotel Inconveniences in the Old Days
Traveling expense at that time was not to be compared with traveling expense today. The modern hotel, with its electric lights, shower-baths, magnificent furniture, and other luxurious things, was unknown in those days. At $2 per day, on the American plan, accommodations were fine enough to suit the most fastidious traveler. If one lacked running hot and cold water, and electricity in his room, one was more than recompensed by the wholesome and plentiful food that always waited the weary traveler at any hostelry. The older traveling men will well recall the delicious buckwheat cakes, lamb chops, eggs, and other good things that delighted their palates on a cold frosty morning. Today, alas, $2 per day for a mere room in a first-class hotel is practically the lowest rate one can obtain. The eating end of it has become a matter of cafes, where every traveling man well learns "the high cost of living" Even in the matter of tips, the price has doubled. Where a negro waiter would almost prostrate himself in thanks for a dime, the haughty cafe waiter will treat you with contempt if you lay down less than a quarter. It is often a matter of wonder to me that the traveling men can put up with such treatment and unnecessary expense.
Through Hagerstown, Pittsburgh, Wheeling, Zanesville and Columbus
At Hagerstown, Md., I made the acquaintance of William Bester and Henry Bester & Sons. And not only have I retained their trade to this very day, but I have won their friendship as well. The Besters are successful growers and fine men.
From Hagerstown, I proceeded toward Cumberland and Pittsburgh; in the latter city I had already made a few friends the previous Spring. The Fall season now being in full sway, my order book began to assume a respectable aspect. I well remember Mrs. P. S. Randolph, an exceptionally fine business woman, who unfortunately was burned to death a year later. Mr. Randolph proved one of the best friends I made in Pittsburgh, and a hearty welcome always awaits me at his place of business or home.
Fred Burki, though I had nothing to offer him at that time, he being a grower exclusively, won my respect and admiration nevertheless.
A. W. Smith, a true philosopher and a man well-read and well-posted on all things horicultural as well as cultural, still affords me delightful hours whenever I chance to meet him.
I might go on and mention other names, all equally notable.
In Pittsburgh I became acquainted with a traveling man named Jerome Stacey, in whose company I traveled for four successive weeks. From him, as an experienced traveler, I received material help in making up my route to carry me to the end of my trip.
From Pittsburgh I went to Wheeling, thence to Zanesville. My experience in those two cities was by no means discouraging. 0"d friend Laupp of Wheeling, in his open-hearted manner, gave me immediate encouragement, so much so that I called again and again. John Dickmann settled in Wheeling years later. He is today the most successful and progressive grower in that part of the country.
At Zanesville I formed the acquaintance of John D. Imlay, and that acquaintance has continued ever since. Mr. Imlay is still a young man in the early fifties, with progressive ideas and business methods which have formed the foundation of his success.
At Columbus, O., I met such men as G. Drobisch and John R. Hel'enthal, both of whom are no longer among the living. Both men represented the German type of manhood—a type that will surmount difficulties and attain the end aimed at. Both were splendid horticulturists. Underwood Bros., two fine specimens of manhood, honest almost to a fault, are among my best friends that I have made on the road. These men are successful in business, and deserve to be.
Albert Knopp, at that time head of the Franklin Park Floral Co., and who has since transferred his interests to Mr. Yacht, a very worthy successor, and has departed for California, was one of the few men who impressed you at once with their sincerity of purpose. When I first met him, he tacitly gave me to understand that my success or failure in his establishment would entirely depend upon myself. In other words, he expected no promises which I could not fulfil, but he did expect me to fulfil all that I made. In this respect, it may not be amiss to say a few words to the young men who are about to start out with sample cases among the trade. My experience has taught me that it is far better to underestimate an article you handle than to overestimate it. In the one instance, your customer will be agreeably surprised when the article you sold him is better than he expected. In the other case he will be quite disappointed if what you promised him fails to come up to your description. To put it succinctly, do not promise more than you can fulfil; do not misrepresent your goods, do not knock your competitor at any time and much less when you yourself are not sure that you can do better than he can.
At Knopp's establishment, I first met Max Rudolph, who two years later married and established himself in Cincinnati. Our acquaintance grew into friendship, and the last time I saw Max was on Sunday, Feb. 2 of this year, when I spent the entire day at his house. Poor Max—that last day together he read to me the obituary notice of Edward Welsh of Hartford. Conn., who died on the 10th of January, nine days after I had seen him. Max remarked to me at the time that human life is very uncertain. "Now you are here, and now you are gone," he said. Verily his words were prophetic, for two weeks later he himself was gone,
S. F. Stephens, a man of the highest business and personal integrity, is another of my oldest friends who for upwards of twenty-seven years has extended me a welcoming hand. His immense trade in the cemetery section of Columbus has kept him confined to his place of business, seldom affording him opportunity to visit neighboring towns and florists. Of late he associated with himself his very able son, a graduate chemist. Although but twenty-four years of age, the young man has already proved a great help to his father. His success is a foregone conclusion.
Encountering Two "Sharpers" in Cincinnati
My first trip to Cincinnati will always remain a memorable event to me. It was in October, 1889, when I landed in that city. First of all, I looked around for a cheap hostelry in the Ohio metropolis. For I well remembered the injunction of my employer to practice economy and hard work. I certainly practised both. In a strange city, among strangers, it was by no means easy work to "get in." I called upon a few stores in the main street, with no results. Among those I called on was Mrs. Kresken, a fine motherly German woman, who was quite successful in her way, and whose business still continues at the old stand under the able management of her daughter, Miss Adeline Kresken. I tried my best to induce Mrs. Kresken to give me an order; I begged for it; I almost implored her to give me a trial. But unfortunately for me, she had already placed all her orders, and received the goods from older houses with whom she had been dealing for years. She wished me success and asked me to call again. I left her place, and proceeded farther in my quest for business. The first store I entered had a very respectable appearance, and looked quite prosperous. I almost uttered a prayer as I approached the proprietor, a man about fifty, six feet tall, well groomed, one who impressed you as a man who well understood his business. I handed him my card, taking at the same time the opportunity to tell him about the merit of my goods. His look was not quite reassuring at the moment, though he did not dismiss me there and then. After a moment's reflection, he told me to stop later in the afternoon, and while he did not promise me any orders, he would look at my samples. I thanked him for his courtesy, and left, promising to return.
Two blocks further, I landed in another prosperous looking store, and here I met with instantaneous success. The proprietor, after glancing at my photographs, grasses, and artificial flowers, proceeded to give me a large sized order, never as much as questioning my prices. "It's too good to be true," I thought to myself, but I dismissed the idea as something unworthy of a moment's consideration.
I returned to the other man, as I had promised, a little later in the day; and to my great delight he was ready to give me a hearing. I braced myself for the occasion, endeavoring to use the best methods at my command in order to impress him favorably with both my merchandise and prices. I succeeded. He gave me a large order, telling me that it was a trial, that if my goods proved entirely satisfactory I might expect much larger orders in the future. Else I would have no chance.
My delight knew no bounds, as I returned to my hotel, and transcribed my orders for transmission to Philadelphia. Later in the evening I took a stroll toward Mrs. Kresken's store.
"Well?" she queried, in her good-natured motherly tone. "Have you done any business today?"
"I certainly did," I replied, gleefully, "and quite a lot of it, too!"
"I am glad to hear it," she said. "And whom did you sell to, may I ask?"
I told her the names of the parties.
"Ach, mein lieber Gott!" she exclaimed. "Neither of them is good. You must take care—they'll beat you out of your money!"
A thunderbolt from a clear sky could not have struck me more forcibly than Mrs. Kresken's words. Down went my enthusiasm. I felt that not only had my energies been wasted, but that a huge joke had been played upon me. Here I had come, all the way from Philadelphia, to the Ohio metropolis, and had done my very best, only to be taken in by two dead beats. Fortunately I was cautioned in time.
I proceeded to inform my employer to cancel both orders, upon information given me by reliable parties. They never received their goods.
Facing Failure in Louisville
I was still traveling in company with my newly found friend Mr. Stacey. In Cincinnati he received instructions from his home office to go down to Louisville, Kentucky.
Louisville, Ky., although but a short distance from Cincinnati, at the time sounded to me like "way down South." I hesitated about changing my itinerary, having already made up my mind to explore the Middle West thoroughly. Mr. Stacey, however, convinced me that Louisville is by no means far out of the way, that it was a splendid town, with plenty of opportunities for a man in my line, and that I could easily reach Indianapolis from Louisville, the distance between the two cities being a hundred and ten miles. I saw the reasonableness of his argument, and to Louisville we went that very night.
My experience in Cincinnati was in nowise conducive to bolstering up my self-confidence and spirit, two essentials that go to make up the success of traveling salesmen. Half-heartedly, after partaking of a scanty breakfast at a cheap hostelry—the cheapest I could find in Louisville, for I was still "practising economy"—I strolled down the street in quest of florists and business. At every place I was told that I was too late, that all the other supply houses, whose representatives had been coming there for years, had already visited Louisville and gathered in all the orders. It was most discouraging. What was I to do? To leave a city like Louisville empty-handed—no, that wouldn't do at all. Has not somebody said somewhere, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again"? That was a wise saying, and I must try to see if I cannot succeed, despite the failure staring me in the face.
Ride in a Mule Car and Promising Orders
Late in the afternoon, I boarded a mule car, on my way to the cemeteries, not to bury myself alive, exactly, though I felt pretty much of a dead one in spirit, but to try to dig up some business. A few blocks distant from Cave Hill Cemetery I discovered a florist, Mr. Joseph Coenen (who is now in California cultivating Oranges). And to him I looked hopefully for some semblance of an order. To be sure, he too had purchased his supplies, but nevertheless he could use a few metallic wreaths and other things, providing I was reasonable enough in my prices. Prices! In a moment of despair, prices are no object. I assured Mr. Coenen that he need not hesitate on that ground, that I represented the finest house on earth, and that my concern was in a position to sell the best goods at the lowest figures. We soon came to terms, and I had a twenty or twenty-five dollar order in my books. So far, so good So why despair? Let me try again.
There are four or five florists in the immediate vicinity of Cave Hill Cemetery, and to them I made my way. At the first place I entered my hopes were blasted immediately. The man had no orders to give me; and if he had any to give at all, he would prefer giving them to the house he had been dealing with, and not to a stranger. Arguments were of no avail.
At the second place, the reception accorded me was more courteous, though the material results were no better. At the third place—but here I must stop for a moment and speak in most kindly words of the man who gave me both moral and material encouragement at a time when I needed both so much. It was Jacob Schulz, the dean of the Louisville florists, a man as broad-minded as he is big-hearted, with an ever-ready and cheering smile. He received me very courteously, and after questioning me about things in Philadelphia, and my impressions of Louisville, he invited me into the office, and looked at my samples. Needless to say, I was very grateful for the order that followed; and that order has impressed itself upon my mind so keenly that I almost remember its volume. It was a good one, and from a good man. Years afterwards some of the metallic designs purchased from me at that time were still hanging around in his shed, covered with dust and cobweb. At the present time Mr. Schulz, though advanced in years, is still active in the business. He is one of the keenest observers, and despite his age he is as alert and progressive as ever. His modern store on Fourth ave. is under the excellent management of his son George, who is a worthy son of an estimable father.
In Lexington
With my two orders in Louisville, I proceeded to Lexington, Ky. It was at that time that I first met Mrs. Honaker and her two sons, David and Ollie. They had just about started at the time, rather humbly, but have since expanded, having at the present time one of the finest stores in the South, as well as one of the best equipped greenhouse esablishments. J. A. Keller, since deceased, had his greenhouses on East Sixth st. He was doing a fairly prosperous business though small in scope. The place has been rebuilt since; several modern houses have been recently erected in place of the antiquated greenhouses. A modern store on the principal street of the city is being conducted now by J. A. Keller, Jr. Ferdinand Keller is the man at the head of the greenhouses.
The Michler Bros., two very enterprising young men, whom I met at a later day, are likewise successful in both their nursery and florist business.
Lexington, unlike many other Southern cities of its size, shows a remarkable growth and commercial development since my first visit in the Autumn of 1889. Among other things, Lexington is famous for its swift horses and beautiful women; and any traveling man who, like myself, has visited Lexington time and again, can well attest to the deservedness of its fame.
Indianapolis Next Stop
Kentucky or, to be more precise, the two cities in Kentucky I have mentioned, comprised at the time my entire Southern route. I ventured no further into Dixie Land, preferring instead the Middle West, of which I had heard so much and which seemed so alluring to me. So to Indianapolis I went. Here, too, my success was questionable. I somehow felt that business was not awaiting me; and when one takes it for granted that failure is in store for him, failure is invariably attendant upon his efforts. My experience has taught me this truth long since.
I visited the Bertermann Bros. The younger elements of the family—I mean Irwin and Walter—were at that time perhaps in knee breeches attending public school. John Bertermann was attending the greenhouse end of the business. It was William Bertermann whom I met at that time, and whom I learned to regard as one of the ablest and most progressive men of his time—a man ever alert for new ideas, original in his methods, and a tireless worker; and in every respect one who could not fail to make an impression from the start. Ed. Bertermann, who still is active in the store, was his able assistant at that time. Mr. Bertermann was a man of but few words; but those few, though courteous, made it plain that there was no business there for me.
I met with better success at Anthony Wiegand's place. Mr. Wiegand, one of the oldest and most successful florists in Indiana, who died a few years ago, was endowed with an extraordinary capacity for kindness and sympathy. The word "no" had never any place in his vocabulary. Mr. Wiegand gave me some business, for which naturally I was grateful. At the present time his two worthy sons, George and Homer, are conducting a very lucrative business. They have rebuilt and remodeled their greenhouses on North Illinois st.
John Rieman, generally conceded to be one of the best growers in Indiana, is still conducting his business at the old stand. As a matter of course his place has kept pace with the times, having been remodeled and expanded within comparatively recent years. Mr. Rieman, at our first meeting as ever since, was courteous, though I cannot recall at this time whether or not he favored me with business at that time.
Terre Haute, Evansville and Other Indiana Towns
Terre Haute, Evansville, and other Indiana towns, were my next places of visitation, and my success everywhere was but nominal. My expenses were light, and so was my salary; and in consequence my employer never sustained any actual loss. Everywhere I went, I expanded on the merit of our goods, the liberality of our concern. I did missionary work to the best of my ability, which proved the stepping-stone to my later successful trips. St. Louis and Chicago overwhelmed me with their greatness—so much so that I did not consider it wise to venture out into these two modern Babylons, as I considered these cities at the time. How often we form ideas of men and places that never correspond with actuality! As a matter of fact, I found Chicago and St. Louis a few years later among the best places in my itinerary, having made as many friends as in any other towns which I have visited fifty or seventy-five times in the last twenty-eight years.
Turning homeward, I visited Western Pennsylvania towns, by this time finding business rather more encouraging. On the whole, my maiden trip was quite satisfactory. In December I was home again, glad to return to my family. My employer seemed to have been pleased with the results, and I had no sooner shaken off the dust from my first trip than he was planning a second one. I did not start out, however, until the middle of January.
Back Home Attending to the Candy Trade
My second trip took me to Baltimore, Washington, Norfolk, and some Western Pennsylvania towns; but in February I received word to return home, for it was time to attend to the candy trade. That abominable part of my business did not appeal to me at all. Yet I thought it prudent in view of circumstances to submit to the inevitable. Once again I took the part of a pack-horse, and as in the year previous suffered a sense of humiliation. My employer evidently was determined to make the best of me. I stuck it out that season, vowing, however, never to do such work again.
Exploring the New England States
Early in May, 1890, it occurred to me that New England States might prove profitable fields to explore. I suggested the idea to my employer, who after his usual hesitancy acquiesced, providing of course I could make it pay. I could not well assure him of the success of the undertaking, but I expressed the opinion that "nothing venture, nothing win" is a very wise saying. Having had a year and a half's experience on the road, I felt that I was somewhat of a veteran in the business, and that if perseverance and hard work counted for anything, there was no reason why I should not make it pay. I furthermore assured him that my expenses would be kept down to the closest possible margin—in a word, that I would do my very best for his interests. He bade me good-bye, wishing me, or rather himself, all manner of good luck.
After making a few towns on my way to Boston, with fairly good results, I landed in the Hub one morning in the early part of May. I may mention in passing that I was the first man representing a florists' supply house in Philadelphia at that time to undertake a business trip to Boston. For some reason unaccountable to me to this very day, even the largest florists' supply house in Philadelphia seemed to be under the impression that the New Yorkers practically monopolized that territory, and that therefore there were practically no chances left to any Philadlphia concern. I say it without boasting, but to me belongs the credit of exploding that notion.
Memorial Day is one of the busiest days in Boston, and for a few weeks before that event the florists make all sorts of preparations for the rush of business. At that time immortelle designs, milkweed balls, cape flowers, artificial flowers, and other such things were used in great quantities, as they are used, though to a somewhat lesser extent, today. I gathered up my courage, and ventured out. To my great surprise, and greater delight, I got a good-sized order from no less a personage than the late William E. Doyle, who was then the foremost florist in Boston. Mr. Doyle was considered in a class by himself; dignified, cultured, he impressed one with his superiority. He was a man of few words, and always did his business pointedly and quickly. Nor did he bargain or haggle over prices. What he wanted was quality.
From Doyle's place, then on Tremont st., to Newman's was but a short distance. Encouraged by my first success, I entered Mr. Newman's place almost assured of an order before even I presented my card. And sure enough I got my order. From that time on, it was a continuous round of success. I took orders from every florist I called upon. On the second or third day I called on Mr. William J. Stewart, who at that time was engaged in the wholesale florist business. He not only favored me with an order on his own account, but showed his kindness and broad-mindedness by giving me numerous addresses of parties, some no doubt his own customers, to whom I might sell. My gratitude to Mr. Stewart has never diminished.
My success in Boston and vicinity was instantaneous. It gave me renewed faith in my powers as a salesman. It furthermore forced home to me the fact that the man who has the goods that are wanted can accomplish the sales.
I cannot say I was quite sure that my small concern could supply all the articles I sold. I felt somewhat uneasy about it. I urged my employer to be sure to procure the articles wanted at a profit or no profit, that our future success in Boston depended upon the first impression, and that the first impression must at all costs be a favorable one. To his credit be it said that he took my advice.
First Attendance at S. A. F. Convention
In August, 1890, the first S. A. F. convention that I ever attended was held in the old Horticultural Hall in Boston. Having already had an entrée into the metropolis of Massachusetts, I suggested to my employer that we make a trade exhibit at the convention. He accepted my idea without a murmur, and what was more unusual with him never mentioned the cost end of it and the need for economy. That convention was one of the most memorable ones in my experience. Some concede that in point of attendance, and entertaining and instructive features, it was superior to the one held there in 1914. That most interesting trip to the Honeywell estate and to Lexington will always remain in the memory of those who made it. Besides our exhibit, which both my employer and I attended, there was another made by one of the largest houses in Philadelphia. This was my second trip to Boston, and I had the advantage of a prior acquaintance, with the result that our competitor was very much surprised to see the friendliness evinced toward me. That convention was the beginning of a change in my fortunes. The very man who could offer me no employment when I applied for it about a year before made me an offer at an opportune moment, and a flattering one at that. He told me that my chances with their house would be enhanced many fold, that there I would represent a "real" concern instead of representing a "small potato." Here for the first time I was being sought by a position instead of seeking one. It gave a big boost to my self-confidence. Nevertheless, I did not wish to act hastily in the matter. I replied that I would let him know later, intending first to speak to my employer. That evening I broached the subject. To my surprise, my employer answered, though I perceived rather faint-heartedly, that every man must better himself, that if I had a better offer he could not well meet it. That settled the question. I accepted the position with our competitor, and handed in my resignation to take effect upon our return to Philadelphia.
A Resignation and Its Results
If ever a man showed his true colors, the head of this "small potato" concern did then. I had no sooner announced the fact of my change than he turned all colors, quivering, shaking, as though suddenly stricken by a chill. He did not think I acted rightly in the matter. I reminded him of his own words, that every man must look out for himself, that I was in duty bound to look out for myself and my family, that I had given him all the chances he could reasonably expect, and that after all it might best serve our mutual interests to part. He couldn't see it that way. He begged me, implored me to stay with him, offering me a five dollar raise and two per cent, on my sales—an increase that almost doubled the salary I was getting. I pitied the man, realizing his helplessness, his weakness, and his lack of determination. But my decision had been made; I could not well use our competitor as a means to an end. It would not be right. No, I decided—it was too late. My employer begged and implored again, never leaving me out of his sight. I was in a dilemma, not knowing what was the best for all interests concerned. It is true I owed a duty to the man who had offered to improve my position; on the other hand my old employer seemed helpless and pathetic, and I had no heart to desert him in the opening of a busy season. Was he now to lose the trade that I had made at his expense? And would that be right and justifiable? And suppose the shock would impair his health—would that be a blot on my conscience for evermore? On the other hand, had he shown any consideration for me and my family? Had he not humiliated me by making me peddle baskets from store to store? Had he not thought to "call my bluff" when I told him about the offer of our competitor, by telling me to better myself if I could? Surely this is a selfish world. After all, it is "each for himself and the devil take the hindmost." Why should I give him any more consideration than he gave to me?
And so I went on, torn by the conflicting arguments. At last I made my decision. I was to remain with my original employer. It was a hard task to face my new "benefactor," but I undertook it. As might have been expected, he took an entirely different view of the situation, contending that I had used him as a club to an end. Perhaps he was right—I shall not argue the matter now.
Two years later, at the S. A. F. Convention in Washington, a similar occurrence took place. The Philadelphia competitive concern renewed its efforts to get me. They made me better inducements than formerly, considering that after a lapse of two years my experience that much enhanced my value. By this time, too, I became rather tired of my original employer—of his business methods, his niggardliness, and ultra-conservatism. If I was to continue at all in this business, I must have a chance of expansion. Our competitors were offering me such a chance. Why miss it? I accepted the position, now fully determined to make the change. My employer again implored me not to forsake him. He offered me a partnership in the business, "to connect my name with his on all his stationery and heads" (oh, what an alluring farce to the uninitiated!) But I had made up my mind, and I would listen to no further argument.
Alluring Prospects with a New Concern
Upon my return to Philadelphia, I reported for duty to my new employer. Here indeed it was hustle and bustle. The place was alive; everybody was busy. I could not help noting the marked difference between the two places. I was glad of the change. I was to remain in the house for a few weeks, and then go out on the road, as far as the Coast. Expenses and the need for economy were never mentioned. On the contrary, my new employer seemed to abhor the very idea of any representative of his stopping at a cheap hotel, or being burdened with a pack of luggage that any negro boy might carry as well.
A Short-Lived "Dream"
Was I through with my dilemma? Oh, no. I had been with the new concern only a few days when one morning my new employer informed me that mutual friends, influential business men of the city, had been stirring up his conscience a bit, insisting that he had committed a grave offense against the other man by taking away his salesman right in face of the busy season. They had worried him with warnings of the retribution which would overtake him if my old employer was ruined. So he told me that I had better go back to my first employer—"Your place here is always waiting for you," he said. "If you find that even as partner you haven't bettered yourself, come back of your own free-will—then at least I won't have it on my conscience."
Back to the Old Place
So I went back, becoming part proprietor, with my name on stationery and letter-heads. I lingered two years longer with my employer; and the longer I stayed the more irksome my situation became to me. I was young and ambitious, and eager to branch out. He could not see it in that light.
Panic of 1893
About 1893, the country was stricken with a panic, as everyone well remembers. My employer was panic-stricken on his own account, so much so that he was practically ready to close up his business. The first thing he did was to discharge two of his best basket and sheaf makers, retaining two young girls, at $3 per week each. Joe Neidinger, of the well-known concern (today) of Joseph Neidinger & Co., at that time a boy of twelve or thirteen, was in our employ in the capacity of errand-boy. Upon him also devolved the duty of trimming splint baskets and making sheaves. And although Joe did his full duty, giving ample promise at the time of what was in store for him, our facilities nevertheless can better be imagined than described. If a hurry-up order came, we could not well turn out the goods. Some staple articles were barred out altogether. I became both disgusted and discouraged with the situation, and regretted the fact that a "partnership" allured me to the extent of sacrificing a really better, though not so high-sounding, position. Things were going from bad to worse. Men were tramping through the streets, looking for positions. There were no positions in sight. My pride restrained me from applying to our competitor. Something, however, had to be done, and that before long. But things shaped themselves of their own accord. A few months later, my partner informed me that he was determined to close up the business. He was a single man; hence family obligations had no terrors for him.
The blow was severe, but I bore it bravely. I was still in my twenties, strong and energetic, and with my experience on the road I surely would succeed in doing something. I broke the news to my wife as gently as I could, but in place of feeling discouraged she seemed rather glad of the change. I clearly recall her words of encouragement—
"You have your youth, your health, and your strength; and any man possessing these qualifications need not fear starvation." She was right.
With a Rival Concern
No sooner had I left my partner, and this time never to return, than I had a call from another rival concern, with an offer of a good position. I accepted immediately, and from the Fall of 1894 up to 1897 I traveled for that concern, as usual working hard, making new friends among the trade who later proved a great asset to me. I induced my new employer to take Joe Neidinger. That was not the time to take new employees, but what I had told him about Joe Neidinger would have sufficed to make room for the boy, whether he was needed or not.
The history of Joe Neidinger's career speaks for itself, and I need not expand on it.
