Читать книгу Andy Blake's Comet Coaster - Edward Edson Lee - Страница 8

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One sunny morning in June a cablegram was received at the Rollins and Hatch offices advising that Mr. Rollins was hurrying home. Thereafter Andy eagerly anticipated the hour when the general manager would be back at his desk. The younger one carried in his appreciative heart a tremendous respect and boyish affection for his chief employer. Mr. Rollins had given him his “big chance.” A clerk in Denny Landers’ small-town general store, his youthful advertising work had attracted the attention of the Rollins and Hatch agency, as related in the preceding book of this series, ANDY BLAKE, and following an exchange of letters he had been offered a beginner’s position in the Chicago company. A big step it was from easy-going Cressfield to dynamic Chicago, a big step with bigger pay for the aspiring young advertising man, and vastly bigger opportunities. Small wonder that the boyish heart constantly swelled with gratitude.

Business took Andy to the south-side plant of the Ayer Planing Machine Company, one of the agency’s accounts, on the morning when Mr. Rollins returned to the city. The first intimation that the young man had that the general manager was back in his private office was when he found a note in his in-coming desk basket:

Blake, please see me immediately. M. R.

The blood flowing more quickly through his veins, Andy started directly for the manager’s office. Nor did he even momentarily delay his steps when Dingley beckoned to him from the door of the art department. His young friend could wait. Certainly, was the summoned one’s decision, he wasn’t going to keep his employer waiting. But why, he wondered, curious, was his office companion, and others in the room, so visibly excited?

“Blake, it’s mighty pleasing to see you again.”

Andy’s face glowed as he took the outstretched hand.

“I’m glad to see you, too, Mr. Rollins. I trust you had a successful trip.”

There was brief mention of tractors and probable European markets, following which the executive took up the business in hand.

“I have a memo here regarding this new carriage account that you are handling. Was the account booked on your recommendation, Blake?”

“I told Mr. Hatch that I would like to accept the account.”

“Then you felt that the market for carriages was of sufficient importance to justify an extensive advertising campaign?”

“Mr. Hatch seemed to think so, sir. His figures showed that many millions of horses are in use on American farms.”

“Oh! . . . He had figures?”

“Yes, sir.” It was now plain to Andy that something was amiss. “Is there anything wrong with the way I’ve handled the campaign?” he inquired, in growing anxiety.

“Not at all. But that isn’t the point. The acceptance of the account in the first place was a serious blunder. And I’m trying to find out whether you are in any way to blame, or whether, as I am more inclined to suspect, Mr. Hatch trickily played you for a greenhorn.”

Stunned and amazed, the younger one could only stare.

“Blake, the carriage business is a losing game. The fact that there are millions of horses in use on American farms doesn’t change the color of the carriage situation a particle. I can take you into any rural center and prove to you, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that there is not a consequential carriage market. The Warman people should have known this, being in the business. I’m surprised at their poor judgment in authorizing the campaign. If I were in the carriage business I’d do one of two things: Sell out to a concern in another line; or go into a new line myself.”

The executive opened an old mail-order catalog.

“This was issued in 1904. See the line of carriages! Ten full pages. And if we were to check up I dare say we’d find another ten pages devoted to carriage accessories. This means that in 1904 the farmers and small-town people were buying carriages. Recognizing this fact, the mail-order houses were pounding hard for the business.

“Now, let us see what they are doing to-day. Here is a current catalog. Not more than one-sixth of a single page devoted to carriages! The mail-order people are not asleep at the switch. Their comparative sales records are unsurpassed by any commercial house on earth. Under normal conditions they know to within a few thousand dollars how much business to expect in December. They know how many pianos they’ll sell in June. Also they know how many carriages they’ll dispose of in a half year. It is a negligible item. The catalog proves it. Because if the business was there they would be going after it. It isn’t there; they’ve found that out. You’ll notice that they give less space to carriages than to tire patches. And look at the pages and pages of other automobile accessories! Mail-order catalogs such as this one may not be an absolutely faithful barometer of rural demand, yet I would hesitate, as a practical business man, to try and sell to farmers, through advertising, a line of goods that the mail-order houses regarded doubtfully.

“My point is, Blake, that we cannot, as I see it, make good on this carriage campaign. For the business isn’t there. So the thing for us to do, without delay, is to admit frankly to the client that we made an error and call off the campaign. A loss of a few thousand dollars should be vastly more welcome to them than a probable loss, at the year’s end, of thirty thousand dollars.”

Andy had listened with varying troubled emotions.

“But why is it, Mr. Rollins, that Mr. Hatch thought of none of these things? He even urged me to go ahead.”

The executive held the younger one’s eyes for a moment.

“Did Mr. Hatch’s extravagant praise of your work never surprise you, Blake?”

“I wondered at it, at first.”

“Yet, you never suspected that he had a hidden iron in the fire?”

“No, sir.”

Andy then learned why the office force was so excited.

“Mr. Hatch and I have severed partnership, Blake. For many months I have been distrustful of him. Now I know that he’s a business crook. On the train out of New York I had a long talk with the president of the Rainbow Tire Company, whose immense plant, you may recall, is located in Manton. For years I have had an eye on that particular account. But the business is now lost to us, Blake, for our reputation in Manton is against us. Men like Mr. Chadwick of the Rainbow company know that advertising won’t sell carriages in this day and age. And in our eager acceptance of the Warman account they think we showed poor judgment; were even grasping in fact. You can see now why Mr. Hatch encouraged you to accept the Warman account. With secret plans of a separate business he wanted us to get a black eye in Manton. My secretary had her suspicions, clever girl that she is. And it was on her advice that I cut short my European business and hurried home. Not until I had talked with Mr. Chadwick, though, did I get an insight into Hatch’s real motive in booking the Warman account. He’ll talk prettily of his reason for leaving here, shaking his own skirts clean! That’s all, Blake. Dissolve the Warman campaign as quickly as possible and pick up your other work. Whatever loss we have suffered through Hatch’s trickery, you understand, of course, that no personal blame is attached to you. Yet there is a lesson in this for you. Keep your wits about you.”

It was a relief to Andy when the five o’clock dismissal sounded. Following the evening meal, which he barely tasted, he roamed the city streets, his mind in a turmoil.

Again and again his thoughts returned to the tricky junior partner. And always his face burned as he recalled the extravagant praise that had been showered on him. Played for a greenhorn! That is the way Mr. Rollins had expressed it. “Fine work, Blake. Amazingly good work for one of your years and experience. You have, as I have mentioned before, originality and good sense. Keep it up, my boy, and you’ll become a top-notcher in the business.” Day after day he had swallowed this glib flattery, like the “greenhorn” that he was. He had liked it, too—that was the most humiliating part of all.

“Some day,” he told himself, white-lipped, “I’m going to get even with that man. He took advantage of me because I’m a boy. But I won’t always be a boy. I’m going to go higher up in advertising than he is. And then, when I’ve had the experience, I’m going to get him.”

Seeking a late bed, he lay thinking and planning. Mr. Rollins had said: “If I were in the carriage business I’d do one of two things: Sell out to a concern in another line; or go into a new line myself.” Yes, the thing for the Warman company to do was to get into a new line—a line that could be manufactured advantageously with the factory equipment at hand. The balance of the advertising appropriation could be spent in directing the manufacturing processes into new and profitable channels.

But what would the new line be? Woodenware, of course. But what kind of woodenware? He thought of furniture. This line didn’t enthuse him. He had the feeling that the manufacture of furniture was somewhat overdone. A new concern in the field would be handicapped by the stiff competition.

“No,” he told himself, “it won’t be furniture. It must be some wooden novelty that we can manufacture easily and sell readily—something that people will want. The right idea will come to me if I just keep thinking.”

His head was dull from loss of sleep when he appeared at the office the following morning. There was still considerable excitement in the organization over the broken partnership. Dingley was talkative. He had heard, he said, that Mr. Hatch had landed a big tire account.

Two days later Andy went to Manton. When he returned to the office he seemed more like the Andy Blake of old. The warm, confident expression had returned to his eyes. He seemed to walk with winged feet, so buoyant were his steps. Dingley observed the change and marveled.

“Say, what’s this I hear about young Blake going to quit?” the art director inquired.

“He’s going to locate in Manton as sales and advertising manager of the Boy Products Company,” Dingley informed. “It’s a new concern—a branch of the old Warman Carriage Company. George Warman is president and general manager. The bookkeeper—I think his name is Harnden—is secretary and treasurer. A fellow by the name of Tim Dine is engineer of inventions and production. A room has been fixed up on the top floor of the factory, so I hear, and the thing that Dine and old Mr. Warman are secretly working on is the thing they’re going to manufacture. Andy, of course, is all enthused.”

“I hadn’t expected him to quit so soon.”

“He’s a queer fellow, Evans. As conscientious as the deuce. You know how he bubbled over and got the carriage people into a hole. The advertising, I hear, hasn’t pulled a dozen inquiries. Well, he feels that it’s his duty to help get them on their feet. That’s why he’s going down there. He tells me that he’s coming back. I hope so. For he’s a good kid.”