“So you are selling books, eh? Well, young man, you have my sympathy. You are the most useless article to be imagined, and you don’t seem to know it.”
“Sympathy to the devil,” I exclaimed, angered more by his manner than his words. “Look at me and see if I need your sympathy. Here am I, with a fine tailor-made suit, a fifty dollar overcoat, patent leather shoes, diamonds all over me, traveling over the country, stopping at first-class hotels, having a good time and making money hand over fist. Does that look as though I needed your sympathy?”
“Now,” I continued, “here you are, wearing a baggy pair of pants with fringe at the bottom, a shabby coat and vest that are old enough to vote, and a slouch hat that is not fit for a dog to wear. You sit in a little dingy 2×4 office, waiting for some sucker to come in and give you a dollar for a prescription. You eke out a miserable existence and see no real living at all. You are the man who needs sympathy, and I assure you, you have mine from the bottom of my heart.”
With that I left him, too thunderstruck to answer me back. Of course, my talk to him was not business, but it was a heap of satisfaction.
I have already touched on the matter of license. Notwithstanding I carried that decision of the United States supreme court in my pocket, I found that in some places the marshals were inclined to enforce some miserable city ordinance, without paying attention to the rulings of the higher powers. As I canvassed one day and delivered another, the most of them had to acknowledge that I was not selling outright, nor peddling.
Sometimes I thought it better to make arrangements to do my business through a local firm. By mentioning this fact to the chief of police and the license inspector I was generally allowed to go unmolested.
I recall one experience in which I avoided difficulty with a bull-headed official. It will serve as an example of methods sometimes used.
I went to an express office to get some samples my house had sent me. The agent, seeing that I was a canvasser, gave me some pointers on the license question. He told me he was once in the same business and wanted to put me on my guard. I would find the new city marshal an obstinate fellow, who could not be worked. He was a regular old crank who would show no mercy to canvassers. I would either have to take out a license or run my chance of being arrested. As the license was so high as to be practically prohibitive the chances of doing business without a lawsuit did not seem encouraging.
Well, I thanked the agent and then worked the town without paying any license. How did I do it? This way:
Learning the marshal’s name, I called upon him, introducing myself as the representative of a well-known eastern paper. I explained that I was writing up the country, and that this city was considered one of the most enterprising places in the state. I also stated that he was recognized as one of the most prominent citizens, and that I had stopped off on purpose to get his biography for publication.