Rodney. No.
Peale. Exactly. When a duck lays an egg it’s a damn fool and keeps quiet about it, but when a hen does, my boy—cluck-cluck all over the place! She’s advertising. So you eat hen’s eggs.
Rodney. You’re beginning to convince me.
Peale. If I’m beginning to convince you, that’s advertising, too. Say, are you for Roosevelt or against him?
Rodney. I’m for him strong.
Peale. I’m against him. I read one paper, you read another. I think he’s a faker, you think he’s a great man. But does either of us really know anything about him except what we’ve read? Have you ever met Roosevelt or talked to him or known anybody who did know him? I haven’t, but the point is, whatever we may think, good or bad, we’ve heard a lot about him, because he’s the best advertiser in the world. And that, my son, is the whole secret of it: get ’em talking about you, get ’em praisin’ if you can, or get ’em cussin’, but for the love of Heaven, don’t let ’em be quiet. Mention your name—have ’em argue about you—boost or knock—be a hero or a villain, but don’t be a dub. Why, give me the money, a little time, a few pages of advertising, and I can sell you shares in the Atlantic Ocean!
Rodney. (Excited) You really believe that with proper advertising you could build up a great business?
Peale. Believe! Look around you: everything’s doing it.
Rodney. And you are out of a job.
Peale. Unless you do the aero-elopement.