I succeeded in exhausting his stock of Beatem pianos in this way, largely to his profit, and fairly to my own. When there were no more pianos he tried me on organs, and I remained with him quite a while.
Sometimes I disposed of the organs by the lottery scheme, and sometimes canvassed through the country to sell them outright. Either way I made money out of the proposition.
I remember that I once called on a farmer who, I knew, was a close buyer. He had two buxom daughters, who, besides feeding the chickens, milking the cows, and churning the butter, found time to play “Home, Sweet Home,” on the organ. They had none of their own, and wanted one awfully bad.
I exerted myself to the fullest to make the sale, but did not—until I was almost ready to throw up my hands.
As a last resort I succeeded by a bit of trickery. I took out a piece of paper and began figuring on it, remarking:
“Mr. Farmer, I am going to figure on the actual net manufacturer’s cost of this instrument, and then I may be able to make you another proposition.”
After figuring for a while I said:
“This organ never sold under one hundred and fifty dollars, but if you want it you can have it for one hundred and twelve dollars and forty-five cents. That is just about what it cost, but as I don’t want to take it back to town with me you can have it for that price. You consider the offer while I am out watering my team and when I come back give me your answer.”
With that I started for the door, carelessly thrusting the slip of paper into my pocket. Accidently (on purpose) it fell to the floor, and I went on without noticing it. Of course, he picked up the paper and looked it over, seeing that, according to my own figures, the organ cost just one hundred and five dollars and fifty cents.
Poor, unsuspecting man, when I came back, thinking he had the drop on me, he said: