A CO-PARTNERSHIP FORMED IN THE AUCTION BUSINESS--HOW IT ENDED--A NEW
FRIEND--HIS GENEROSITY--EXHIBITING A TALKING MACHINE--IT FAILED TO
TALK--HOW I ENTERTAINED THE AUDIENCE--IN THE ROLE OF A PHRENOLOGIST.
On my return home I met an old acquaintance
who had just sold out his grocery and was anxious
to invest with me in the auction business. We
very soon formed a co-partnership, he furnishing one
thousand dollars and I five hundred.
We opened at Upper Sandusky, in a
store room, with a stock of notions, hosiery and underwear,
but from the very first began losing money. The
roads were very muddy, and it rained day in and day
out. The weather was warm and there was no demand
for our goods. We moved from one town to another
with but poor success, hoping for cold weather and
a demand for sox and underwear. However, “luck,”
as we called it, was against us, and when spring came
we invoiced and found ourselves with about six hundred
dollars’ worth of stock on hand.
I then made clear to him that at the
rate we had been losing money, we would probably have
about five hundred dollars cash after winding up provided
we commenced at once and sold out as soon as possible.
I suggested that we do so, and I would turn that amount
over to him, which would leave us each just five hundred
dollars out of pocket for the winter’s work.
Hank said he was perfectly satisfied,
and I should go on and close out, and he would go
home and attend to other business.
I worked into Indiana, and succeeded
in finishing just about as we had figured on, for
after sending him the last remittance to make up the
five hundred dollars, I had about four dollars in cash
and an old trunk left.
Elkhart, Indiana, was the town I closed
out in, and while stopping there at the hotel I became
acquainted with a physician and surgeon from Chicago,
Dr. S. W. Ingraham, whose office is now on South Clark
Street.
He had been called there to perform
a surgical operation, and being obliged to spend an
hour or two in the hotel office before taking a return
train, he became an interested listener to several
stories told by a couple of drummers and myself.
He finally told one or two which convinced us that
we had struck an old-timer. After we had related
some personal experiences I learned, to my great delight,
that the Doctor’s experience had been almost
as varied as my own. He began by relating the
different kinds of business he had engaged in while
a young man; but he was unable to mention a single
thing that I hadn’t embarked in and of which
I could show up a smattering of knowledge.
Finally he said:
“Now, Johnston, I am going to head you off right
here.”
“What is it, Doctor? I am anxious to know
what it is.”
“Well sir, I’ll bet you
never made a political speech, and I stumped Ohio
during one campaign and made one speech a night for
ten consecutive weeks.”
“I can beat that. I stumped
Ohio for Hayes and Tilden, and made two speeches on
the platform for one consecutive night.”
“But how could you speak for
Hayes and Tilden? One was a Democrat and the
other a Republican.”
“No matter, I did it anyhow,
and all in the same speech, too.”
And to prove the correctness of my
statement, as the Doctor seemed a little incredulous,
I jumped to my feet and delivered a part of my Republican
speech and then a part of the Democratic, and then
headed him off by relating my experience running a
fruit stand, the three days with a side-show, besides
one or two other ventures. When I told him I was
an auctioneer he at once became interested in me,
as he had been one himself in his younger days.
I quickly satisfied him that I could sell at auction,
and he likewise convinced me that he “had been
there.” I then narrated the ups and downs
I had had, and showed up my books for the winter’s
losses, and how I had just sent my late partner about
all the money I had. He asked my plans for the
future. I told him about my furniture polish,
and that it was always a sure thing. He listened
attentively, and after a moment’s reflection
said:
“But the time of year is just
coming when you could make money fast if you had a
nice auction stock.”
“I know that; and another thing
I know is just how to do it now, as I have paid well
for my experience.”
“Well,” said the Doctor,
surprising me as he reached down into his pocket and
produced a roll of bills, “I am going to loan
you one hundred dollars, and I know you will pay it
back before three months.”
I thanked him, but told him fifty
dollars would answer, as I could get along nicely
and would prefer to commence as low down as I dared.
He insisted that a hundred would be none too much,
but I declined to accept more than fifty, and immediately
sent to Chicago for a stock of just such goods as
I felt certain would sell well and not be too bulky.
I assured the Doctor that if I were
successful I would pay him back, and if I was not
I would never cross the street to shun him when I came
to Chicago, but would surely call on him and acknowledge
the debt, anyhow.
I had heard and read of men like Doctor
Ingraham, but he was the first of his kind that I
had ever met; and realizing that such friendship could
not be valued too highly, I determined to not only
repay him, but to let him have the satisfaction of
knowing sooner or later that the start he gave me
had developed into something of consequence.
After he bade me farewell and started
for home, I was at a loss to know what to do while
waiting for my goods, and had almost concluded to have
a few bottles of polish made up with which to make
a few dollars, when a young man appeared at the hotel
with a very peculiar-looking cylindrical instrument
in a box. I was curious to know what it was, and
as he looked rather tired and sorry, I ventured to
inquire what he had in there. He answered:
“Oh, it’s nothing but a ‘talking
machine.’”
I was fairly dumfounded, and thought
perhaps he was casting a slur, as I had been doing
considerable talking. At any rate I felt that
whether he was telling the truth or not, I had a right
to take exceptions.
If he had meant to slur me, I would be insulted.
If he had told the truth, I had a right to oppose
unfair competition.
I then demanded an explanation, and
assured him that I did nothing else but talk,
and considered I had a perfect right to investigate
any sort of a machine that would be at all likely
to monopolize the business.
He then took the cover off the box
and showed me an Edison phonograph, which he had gotten
in exchange for a horse. He had come on there
expecting to meet his cousin, who was to furnish the
money, and they were going to travel and exhibit it.
I asked him to “set ’er
going” and let me hear it spout an hour or two.
He said it would take several minutes to arrange it,
besides he didn’t like to use up any more tin
foil than was necessary, as he hadn’t much on
hand.
I asked him what he thought of doing.
He said he didn’t know, but guessed he’d
go back home if his cousin didn’t come.
“Why can’t you and I give an exhibition?”
I asked.
“Where will we give it?”
“Suppose we go to some country
school-house a few miles out and give a show to-morrow
evening?”
“All right, I’m willing. I have plenty
of small hand-bills.”
“Then we’ll hire a team
to-morrow morning and drive out to some thickly-settled
neighborhood and advertise it. You’re sure
it’ll talk, are you?”
“Talk? You bet it’ll talk!”
The next morning we were up and ready
for business, and, after hiring a horse and wagon,
started out.
After driving several miles, we found
a place where we thought it would pay to stop, and
upon inquiring for the school directors, were referred
to a farmer living near by.
We called on him, and after stating
our business and promising himself and family passes,
were given an order on the school-teacher for the
key, when she had locked up for the day. We drove
directly there, where we found nearly forty scholars
in attendance.
After making the teacher’s acquaintance
and explaining our business, she gave us permission
to deliver a circular to each one present, and to
make an announcement.
This I managed to do, and stated to
them that if I had time after the performance with
the talking machine, I would deliver a lecture on
Telegraphy, and explain the manner of sending messages,
and how batteries were made, and how long it would
take a message to travel from New York to San Francisco.
My idea, of course, was to represent
as much of an attraction as possible, as I felt certain
that if we got them there, and got the machine to
talking once, they would forget all about Telegraphy.
On our way out my partner had drilled
me on what to say to the Phonograph in order to have
the words reproduced distinctly. He said it was
necessary to use a certain set of words that I could
speak very distinctly, and that would be penetrating,
and recommended the following:
“Dickery-dickery-dock,
The-mouse-ran-up-the-clock,
The-clock-struck-one,
And the-mouse-ran-down,
Dickery-dickery-dock.”
After making arrangements at this
school-house, we started out and visited two other
districts and advertised our performance. The
result was that people came from all directions, in
carriage and wagon loads. They had all heard
or read of Edison’s talking machine, and were
anxious to see and hear it.
The house was packed, and we took
in over forty dollars at the door.
At eight o’clock I announced
everything ready for the exhibition, and requested
all to remain as quiet as possible throughout the performance.
Of course I was as ignorant of the
manner of manipulating the talking machine as any
one of the audience.
I didn’t know whether the thing
had to be “blowed up” or “wound up,”
and was obliged to leave it all with my partner, who
seemed perfectly confident of its success.
After arranging the tin foil he took
hold of the crank, began turning, and instructed me
to place my mouth over the instrument and speak my
little piece about the mouse and clock. After
finishing, I stepped back to await results.
He turned the crank, and the thing
gave just one unearthly, agonizing groan and, I imagined,
rolled its eyes back, and gasping for breath, died
a natural death.
The audience showed a look of disappointment.
I endeavored to convince them by my careless, indifferent
manner that it was only a common occurrence, and that
all would soon be right.
My partner tried to laugh it off and
make believe it was a good joke, but I noticed very
quickly large drops of perspiration standing on his
forehead as he busied himself in trying to fix the
machine.
At last he was ready to try it again,
and instructed me to speak louder and more distinctly
than I did before. I was determined that he should
not lay the blame to me for not talking loud enough,
and therefore used all the strength and power of lungs
and voice that I could command. The result was
less satisfactory than before, for not a sound could
we get from it.
The audience began to show impatience,
and from different words and expressions that came
from them we were convinced that they were not going
to submit easily to anything but an exhibition of some
kind.
By this time my partner had taken
off his coat and vest, although it was really cold
enough for an overcoat, and the perspiration was fairly
dripping from him. He was much excited and I wasn’t
feeling any too gay myself.
We began working on the machine together,
which gave us a chance to converse in an undertone.
I asked if he had ever tried to run it before.
He said no, but he was certain he knew how.
I told him it really looked as though
he must have boarded and roomed with Edison when he
conceived the idea of making the thing.
“Are you positively certain it ever did talk?”
“I know it has talked.”
“Did you ever hear it?”
“No, but my cousin did.”
“Great Scott, man! you don’t
know whether this is a Phonograph or a washing-machine;
and I am certain it looks more like the latter.
What are we going to do?”
He said he guessed we’d better give back the
money and let them go.
“Yes, that would be a bright
thing! Do you suppose I’d give back this
money? Not much.”
“Well, but we’ll have to. What can
we do?”
“What can we do? Well sir,
we’ve got to do something to entertain these
people and hold their money, if you and I have to give
them a double song and dance.”
“My gracious, Johnston, I can’t dance!”
“But you have got to dance.
I can’t dance either, but this is a ‘ground-hog
case,’ and we’ve got to dance and sing
too.”
“I guess I’ll announce
to them that you will favor them with a song and single
clog, and then we will appear together.”
As I stepped to the table I heard him say:
“I’ll take my hat and run!”
Then, stepping to the front, I said:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope
you will be patient with us a few moments. The
trouble is just this: We brought the Phonograph
over here in an open wagon, and as the weather has
been cold and damp, and we forgot to keep the thing
blanketed, it took a severe cold, which seems to have
settled on its lungs, rendering it unable to speak
above a whisper. But with your kind indulgence
we hope to doctor it up and be ready to give you a
nice exhibition in a few moments.”
Of course I expected our audience
to laugh at and ridicule the idea of its taking cold,
and was surprised that not a single person cracked
a smile, but, on the contrary, every one seemed to
gaze at the instrument with a look of sympathy.
When I returned to my partner, who
was still trying to fix it, he was nervous and showed
much agitation, and said:
“Oh, what a relief. I would
have sunk through the floor if you had announced what
you said you were going to.”
“Do you think you can fix it?”
“It don’t look like it.
Say, Johnston, suppose you deliver that lecture on
Photography?”
“On Telegraphy, you mean.”
“Oh yes, Telegraphy. Go ahead.”
“But it won’t take three minutes to tell
all I know about that.”
“Well then, by Jove, we’ve got to give
back the money.”
“Not much! No giving back
the money with me; and as I sold the tickets and have
the cash, you can rely on that. You have got to
do something to entertain these people. You can
sing can’t you?”
“Indeed I can not.”
“Can you whistle?”
“No, sir.”
“Can you do anything? Can you speak a piece?”
“Johnston, if my life was at
stake I couldn’t do a thing!
the old talking machine anyhow! I wish
“Say, I’ll tell you what
we’ll do. I’ll announce to them that
the Phonograph is too sick to talk, and will give
them a choice of three things: Either a lecture
on Phrenology or Telegraphy, or an imitation of a
Yankee peddler selling his wares at auction; and the
moment I say ‘auction’ you look up and
begin to laugh and clap your hands and say, ‘Johnston,
give them the Yankee peddler; that’s the best
of all.’”
He agreed, and when I made the announcement
he had no sooner carried out my instructions than
the whole house cried as with one voice:
“Yes, yes, give us the Yankee peddler!”
Then I felt relieved and knew we had
them. I then explained that Yankee peddlers usually
carried handkerchiefs, sox, hosiery, shears, shoe-laces,
suspenders, soap, pencils, pins, razors, knives, etc.,
and if some one of the crowd would name any article,
I would go through the formality of selling it on
the down east Dutch auction style.
A lad sitting near me on a front seat cried out:
“Here, Mister, play you are
selling my knife,” and reaching out and taking
it in my hand, after making a few preliminary remarks,
I began with the twang of the almost extinct down
east Yankee, and in a high-pitched voice and at lightning
speed, rattled off:
“Now, ladies and gentlemen,
the first article I am going to offer for your inspection
is a fine silver-steel blade knife with a mother-of-pearl
handle, brass lined, round-joint tapped and riveted
tip top and bottom a knife made under an act of Congress
at the rate of thirty-six dollars per dozen there
is a blade for every day in the week and a handle
for your wife to play with on Sunday it will cut cast-iron
steam steel wind or bone and will stick a hog frog
toad or the devil and has a spring on it like a mule’s
hind leg and sells in the regular way for
I then went on with my usual plan
of selling, and introduced the endless variety of
sayings and jokes which I had been two years manufacturing
and collecting, and then went on through the whole
list of Yankee notions, giving my full description
of everything, to the great satisfaction of my audience
and the surprise of my partner, who was in ignorance
of the fact of my ever having been in the auction business.
I kept this up for over two hours
and kept the crowd laughing almost constantly.
This, I considered, was about as much as any show could
do, and felt that I was not only entitled to their
money, but that I had struck quite a novel way of
utilizing my knowledge of auctioneering.
After closing the entertainment the
people gathered around, and many of them wanted me
to stay in the neighborhood and deliver a lecture the
next night on Phrenology. But as we were billed
at Elkhart for that date, it was impossible to do
so. We remained over night with the school director,
and the next morning he requested me to delineate the
character of his son by an examination of his head.
I had always been interested in the
study of human nature, and consequently had taken
considerable pains to read up and post myself on Physiognomy.
I had a fair knowledge of temperaments, and altogether
was enabled to pass fair judgment on the lad.
While I hadn’t the slightest knowledge of Phrenology,
I was more or less familiar with the terms used by
them, such as benevolence, veneration, firmness, self-esteem,
approbativeness, caution, combativeness, ideality,
etc., etc., and began at once to delineate
the boy’s character.
When I placed my fingers on the front
part of the boy’s head and looked wise, saying
“large combativeness,” the father said:
“Great Cæsar! do you locate
combativeness in the front of the head?”
“Who in thunder said it was in the front of
the head?”
“But you put your fingers on the front part
of the head.”
“Yes, possibly so, but if I
did my thumb was at the same time resting on the bump
of combativeness. My gracious, any one knows where
that is!”
This satisfied him, and the whole
family were delighted with the boy’s prospects
when I had finished.
We were then ready to leave, and when
I asked how much our bill would be, he said he guessed
two dollars would be about right, and then inquired
what my charges would be for examining the boy’s
head. I told him two dollars and a half was the
usual price, but we’d call it square on our
board bill. He said he thought it would be about
right to call it even.
My partner thought it the most wonderful
thing he had ever heard of that I should be able to
jump up before that large crowd of people, as I did
the night before, and conjure up such a lot of talk
on notions, and he couldn’t see how I did it.
He said he believed I was inspired.
On our return to Elkhart we divided
our cash and dissolved partnership.