Letters From an Old Time Salesman to His Son

by Roy Lester James

Just for tonight, Red, now listen—just for tonight I’m going to forget momentarily your title and lapse into the old vein. After this, if you insist, I’ll call you Mister Red, or any other title you wish, but I just cannot resist the temptation of still imagining you to be the same old impetuous, impulsive, don’t give-a-dam Redhead who used to put wrinkles into my forehead, and I’m going to talk to you accordingly.

No, I never was a general sales manager, but I know all about how the job should be run, just like Harry Sparks knows all about raising babies—he never had any. Red, did you ever see that play, “If I Were King”? No? Well, neither did I, but I imagine it’s something like the way I’m looking at this new job of yours. I can well imagine your feelings, anyway—especially these first few days after your appointment.

I know you’re leaning over backwards trying to act natural in this new job of yours. Every fellow who comes up to wish you well you sort of look over mentally and wonder if his good wishes have a real kick, or if they’re about one-half of one per cent. You are painfully aware that there are those in the organization who think you have a horse-shoe in your hip pocket, while others wonder just how you got that way. One minute you wonder if you look and act so that no one could suspect a swelling of your hat rest and the next moment you’re wondering if the Boss doesn’t wonder if you’re sufficiently dignified for the place. All-in-all, Old Top, I’ll bet you’re in a peculiar state of mind and will remain so until the odor of mothballs and the price tag wears off.

But, Red—forget it! You know they say that good prize-fighters, or the best artists on the stage are those who are totally oblivious to either boos or applause, and forget their audience in the intensity of their art. You’ve been handed a real job this time and you should have neither the time, nor inclination, to do other than put all your energy and ability into it. Simply because it’s a big job, don’t think for a minute that you will not continue to run afoul of some things that will make that old red-headed temper of yours assert itself, but, Boy, you’ll have to handle it differently than in the old days.

You have heard how certain supposedly big men when irritated used to chew up lead pencils, turn over the desk and go thru divers forms of brainstorms, but no, Red—that’s fiction—they’re not doing it that way this summer. Do you remember the illustration I gave you one time years ago when you got all “het up” because a barber had made a positive appointment with you when you were in a hurry to catch a train and then broke it, so you had to let the old brush-pile stay on? Remember, I told you never to get mad at a man who was below you in intelligence and if that fellow had any intelligence he wouldn’t have been a barber? Well, Red, the old rule will work in the new job—always let the other fellow do the getting-mad thing; when he does, he’ll make a fool of himself; if you get mad, too, you’re getting down to his level.

Stick to the sales end, Red, as long as you’re in it, at least. Don’t worry about how poorly the men in the other ends of the business handle their duties. God in all his infinite wisdom has never yet produced a genus homo who was capable of personally directing the manufacturing, selling, advertising and executive ends of any one business. True, the president of companies like yours does those things, but not alone, Boy, not alone. He has a lot of high-class men like yourself specializing and directing certain ends of it. Don’t be too big, however, to detect a good idea or suggestion from those in other ends of the business. I once knew a great sales manager who got the best sales lead of his experience from an office boy.

And, Red, be human—keep away from the clouds—keep your feet on terra firma. From the time of the Man of Galilee who said, “Suffer little children to come unto me and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven,” great men of all ages and walks of life have realized that true greatness was marked by humility. Have time, Boy, to listen to the story of a problem solved that the junior clerk in the department is just aching to tell you, and, Red, like the other jobs you have held, be a leader. Now more than ever before must you, by example and precept, be a real leader of those you captain.

Much of your success will depend upon those with whom you surround yourself. Be ultra conservative in your selection. It may not have occurred to you, but in choosing you for the big job those who had your selection in their power observed pretty carefully whether or not you had character. Character is the solid foundation of all success; without it no great heights can be reached and kept.

Boy, I could go on indefinitely, but I must close. Even now, as the realization of your present age and particularly your position strikes me anew, I feel a sense of awe. I will not write you this way any more—I’m done. Henceforth, my letters will be postscripts on the bottom of Mother’s and will only tell of my adventures chasing a little white ball around a cow pasture. The mantle has fallen on your broad and worthy shoulders—instead of my telling you what to do, I’m resigned to have you give me the post-graduate course, for as Kipling says:

“Tho I’ve belted you and flayed you,