sale was quickly completed and I took down the name and address of the lady, giving her a receipt for the subscription. I also gave her the half-dozen spoons.
But my business did not end there.
“Incidentally,” I said, reaching into my pocket and withdrawing a pair of pince-nez glasses, “when we were coming down the road, my partner and I found these spectacles. Do you happen to know anybody in the community who wears glasses like these?”
“No, can’t say that I do,” the farmer replied, taking the glasses from me.
“Too bad,” I said regretfully. “If I could find the owner, I would return them. They look like expensive eyeglasses. I imagine the person who lost them would pay three or four dollars reward for their return.”
As I was talking, the farmer tried on the spectacles. He held up the sample copy of the magazine I had given him and the print stood out clearly. Probably he’d been intending to get a pair of glasses the next time he went to town. He looked at the rims, which appeared to be solid gold. They looked costly.
“Tell you what I’ll do,” he proposed. “I’ll give you three dollars and keep the glasses. I’ll look around for the owner, as long as you won’t be able to make a complete search.”
“That’s right,” I agreed. “I can’t afford to go from house to house inquiring who lost a pair of glasses.”
So I took the three dollars and he took the glasses. Of course, he had no intention of looking for the owner - any more than I did. As a matter of fact, he was just as anxious to have me on my way, as I was to go. In time, he would discover that the frames were cheap and that the lenses were no more than magnifying glass. If he took the trouble to ask, he would find that he could duplicate them in the city for twenty-five cents.
His good wife would soon learn that the beautiful silver spoons I had given her were cheap metal. I had bought them before leaving Chicago for a cent each. My net profit on the deal was about $3.50, which I figured the farmer could well afford for a lesson in honesty. He had paid for the glasses because he thought he was getting something expensive at a fraction of their true value. His wife had thought she was getting something for nothing.
This desire to get something for nothing has been very costly to many people who have dealt with me and with other con men. But I have found that this is the way it works. The average person, in my estimation, is ninety - nine per cent animal and one per cent human. The ninety - nine per cent that is animal causes very little trouble. But the one per cent that is human causes all our woes. When people learn - as I doubt they will - that they can’t get something for nothing, crime will diminish and we shall all live in greater harmony.
My partner soon caught on, and we both worked the scheme throughout the trip. There were variations to the routine and we had to be ready to answer many questions. But each of us managed to make about ten sales a day - thirty-five dollars profit. That was more than I had made in a whole week in Chicago.
As a rule, we worked an entire community. My partner would drop me at the first farmhouse, then proceed a mile or two down the road. I would go forward while he turned back. We called at every house until we met. Then we’d be on our way again.
I realize that this may seem an old game. It is. But I am telling about it because I am the man who originated it. My partner and I worked it successfully throughout the farming sections of Illinois, Iowa, and Wisconsin.
For me, there was one drawback. While my partner rode from one farmhouse to another in his buggy, I had to trudge down the dusty road with my bag. At best, although I have enjoyed fairly good health, I am frail, and this constant walking became very tiresome.
Among the items I had brought with me from Chicago were a number of pocket watches. They were gold-plated and stamped on the back, “14 Carat.” I had paid $1.98 for each, and they were fairly good timepieces. What is more, they were legitimate products. In those days - 1899 - there had been no legislation prohibiting manufacturers from stamping anything they pleased on watches and jewelry.
Of course, I sold them for as much as I could get - as high as fifty dollars. There was nothing the buyer could do about it. True, he had paid much more than the watch was worth, but at that time the law held that he had done so with his eyes open. The victim had to suffer in silence and charge off his loss to experience.
One day I came to a farmhouse whose owner was very much in need of a watch. But he was a horse trader at heart. As soon as I offered to sell him the watch, he started to bicker. I finally agreed to accept a horse and sulky in exchange for the watch. The farmer thought he had put over a good one. The horse was a plug and had almost outlived his usefulness.
But the rig served my purpose. Now I could ride during the remainder of the summer. I am sure the farmer got good service from his watch as long as I did from his plug.
By the time the summer was over and we had concluded our jaunt, I was tired of the rural life. So I dissolved our partnership and, with a sizable stake, returned to Chicago.
CHAPTER 2
CHICANERY IN CHICAGO
I had been away from Jessie, my fiance, for several months and was anxious to see her. She and her family welcomed me back, and that winter, I saw her often. She thought I was a traveling salesman for a reputable firm, but I told her that I was tired of the road and intended to set up my own business in Chicago.
In those days, a woman seldom questioned a man’s work. Her place was strictly in the home. Jessie didn’t ask me about the sort of salesmanship I was engaged in. It was many years, long after we were married, before she found out that I was anything but a respectable business man.
She and her mother were devout members of the Sacramento Congregational Church in Chicago. With them I attended services every Sunday. The minister had a forceful delivery, using a clever choice of words to sway his audience.
This set me to thinking. I said to myself, “Joe, you are not capable of hard physical work. You’re too frail. Whatever you accomplish in life must be done through words. You have that ability. You can make words beautiful and scenic. What marble is to sculpture, what canvas is to painting, words can be to you. You can use them to influence others. You can make them earn your living for you.”
As I have said, that minister made a deep impression on me. I wondered would he help me enter a good theological seminary where I could study to be a pulpiteer. I broached the subject to Jessie and her mother. They were overjoyed.
One Sunday evening we waited after services and approached the minister. His advice was realistic.
“First,” he said, “you must give your soul and your whole life to God. Have you done that?”
“Not yet,” I admitted.
“Are you familiar with the Scriptures?”
“Some of them. Not all.”
“You’ve got to make up your mind that you will give yourself to the work,” he urged. “Then you will have to be able to pay your way through school.”
“I can pay part of it,” I said. “And I imagine I can work to pay the rest of it.”
“Yes, that can be done,” declared the minister, “if your heart is in it. Here is what
