Читать книгу Dawson Black: Retail Merchant - Harold Whitehead - Страница 14

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I had promised to get to Barlow's as soon after eight as I could, and I was there at ten minutes past. Barlow welcomed me and led me to his office in the rear, and there I met with a surprise, for who should be sitting there in his office but Stigler, who ran the only other hardware store in town.

Stigler didn't attempt to rise when I came in; but just nodded curtly and said, "Howdy?"

I looked blank for a minute, and then said:

"I see you are busy, Mr. Barlow. I'll come in again."

"Sit right down, Dawson," he replied, "for if we are going to help each other on credits and on mail-order competition, we all need to get together, and it would not be fair for you and me to discuss this matter without asking Mr. Stigler's help also."

"Well," said Stigler, "if you fellers can show me anything that'll save me a dollar, I'm on. But I'm from Missouri! K-ha!"

His laugh was like the sound of a cork coming out of a bottle.

Barlow then explained to him what we purposed doing. When he had finished, Stigler said:

"Sounds pretty, all right, but how are yer goin' to do it?"

"Couldn't we arrange," I offered, "to tell each other who we are charging goods to, and so prevent ourselves from running up unsafe bills?"

"How d'yer mean?" said Stigler.

"Well," I continued, "suppose there's a carpenter who has a bill of thirty or forty dollars coming to me which is overdue—why I tell you and Mr. Barlow that he owes me that money, and, when he comes to you for credit, you won't do business with him until he has paid me. That will make him pay me and save you running into danger with him."

I saw those thin lips of Stigler's turn up with derision.

"And," I continued hastily, "if anybody owes you anything, you let us know and we won't sell to him until he has paid you."

"Listens very pretty, Black," Stigler sneered, "but I guess when you've been in business as long as I have, you won't talk so glib about lettin' your competitors know just what you're doin' . . . Hold on," he said, when he saw Barlow and myself about to protest. "I don't mean that you fellers ain't straight, y' understand, but you couldn't prevent that information leakin' out to yer clerks, and what's to prevent them going to my customers and sellin' to them? And, besides, how do I know I'd get a complete list of yer creditors, and how do you know you'd get a complete list of mine? If that's your story, fellers, I'm goin' home!" and he rose to get his hat.

"Wait a minute," said Barlow. "If you wish, we can hire an accountant, and pay him jointly, and have him draw off those figures, and we can refer to him when we want to know anything about any one."

Stigler lay back in his chair, and nodded his head toward us several times sarcastically.

"Of course Black, here," he said, "is a novice, and I don't give him credit for knowin' much; but you, Barlow, I thought you knew better than to put up a game like that on me. Nothin' doin', I tell yer. I wasn't born yesterday, and I ain't goin' to let you fellers get the inside pull of my business if I know it. Y' understand, I ain't got nothin' against you fellers, but I think if you just go ahead your way, and I go mine, we'll all be better friends in the end!"

I could see Barlow was really exasperated; but he controlled his temper and said:

"Very well, let us leave that. Would you be willing to join us in a circular to try to counteract the effect of mail-order competition?"

"I'm kinder suspicious, anyhow," replied Stigler. "How do you mean?"

"Why," said Barlow, "we could, perhaps, have a folder printed, quoting our prices against the mail-order prices, with a strong suggestion that people should buy from us as long as we can do as well as anybody else for them."

"Yer mean," said Stigler, "to just send that out as if from the three of us?"

"Exactly."

Stigler thought for a minute, and then said slowly: "And have everybody in town think that we fellers was probably workin' together to boost up prices? No, sir-ree, I think that's the most damfool suggestion I've ever heard! K-ha," he snapped out his laugh again. "Just think of anybody getting hold of a circular with three competitors' names on it! Why, they'd naturally think at once that competitors don't work together unless they're gettin' something out of it."

"We are getting something out of it," I broke in. "We are going to get the mail-order business out of it!"

"Yer can't make me, and won't make the public, believe that. They'll believe we're just puttin' our heads together to do away with competition so's we can get fancy prices."

He stood up, and said, with a little boast in his manner:

"Stigler's allus been known for bein' a keen, cut-rate hardware man. By the gods, he's goin' to stay it. I'm strong enough to run my business without leanin' on you fellers, and I ain't goin' to let the public think for one second that I ain't."

"Then good night to you, sir!" said Barlow, angrily. I was mad clear through.

Stigler shrugged his shoulders. "Yer think I'm easy, don't yer?" he sneered, and went out.

When he had gone, Barlow put his hand on my shoulder.

"Dawson," he said, "Stigler has lived in this town for many years, trading on the reputation of his father, who was a fine gentleman. But he's been losing the better-class trade rapidly, and is only holding up business by cutting prices right and left. That policy can't win in the end."

"For heaven's sake! Mr. Barlow," I cried, "why did you ask him here? If there is one man I detest more than another, it's Stigler!"

"Because," he replied gravely, "if we are going to exercise coöperation, it must be complete, and personalities must be sunk for the greater issues. I like Stigler even less than you do, but that mustn't prevent us giving him an opportunity to work with us."

"Well, he's refused, and the two of us can work together on these plans," I said.

Then, to my utter amazement, Barlow shook his head, and said: "We can't do it, Dawson."

"B-but," I stammered, "in the train you said you thought it was a good idea!"

"So I did, and I still think so, if we could have Stigler with us. But don't you see," he said, "that, if we were to come out with an advertisement under our joint names, Stigler would tell every one in the town that either I had bought you out—remember that you worked for me only a few weeks ago—or else that we had combined to drive him out of business. And, as soon as you put a man in a position where people think he's a martyr, they'll flock to help him. It seems to be a peculiarity of human nature to want to fight for the under dog, and I think you've seen enough of Stigler to know that he would use that weapon to the fullest advantage."

"Well, can't we work together on the credit scheme?" I asked.

"No," he replied, "for, if we did that along the line suggested, Stigler would tell people that we were telling our customers' business to each other, and you can imagine the general feeling then. Stigler would urge them to come to him, and tell them that he would keep their business private, and such things as that."

I must have looked dejected, for Barlow laughed sympathetically, put his arm around my shoulder, and said:

"Now I know you had your heart set on doing this, Dawson, but it's really only a little matter."

"Little?" I said, remembering the hullabaloo at the convention when mail-order competition was mentioned, as well as the question of credits.

"Yes," he replied, "for we can help each other in a quiet way without any definite plan. Now, if you've any credit customers about whom you are in doubt, come in and see me and I'll tell you what I can of them."

"And you'll do the same, sir?"

"I surely will," said he.

And we shook hands and that was how it ended.

To think that the possibility of a real fight against the mail-order houses, and the certainty of checking credit losses, should be knocked in the head by one man who, because he happened to be a crook himself, thought everybody else was!