GGGRODD

As I said, our town was a junction point, and it was necessary for the afternoon westbound passengers to side-track and wait for the eastbound train. On these occasions Engineer Fenton would desert his cabin and allow his fireman to switch the train back on the main line after the eastbound train had passed. This was the most joyful experience of my life in those days, because I was privileged to take the seat ordinarily occupied by the fireman and to ring the bell while the engine brought the train upon the main line and into the station.

Positively, I used to dream about "88."

I had a wood shed in which the cabin of "88" was reproduced with a lath lever and a cigar box throttle.

I'll never forget the time when Engineer Fenton came through in another locomotive and informed me that "88" was laid up for repairs. I couldn't have felt worse if I had been told a dear friend was in the hospital.

Later, my good friend Fenton was taken off the engine and promoted to be master-mechanic on the division, and I have a sneaking idea that in spite of the honor and added pay, he mightily missed the association of old "88."

All this is a rambling reminiscence-but it goes to show how much human personality can become tied up in an inanimate thing.

It is the business man who wins who loves his business just as Engineer Fenton and I loved old "88.'

He does not see it as a common-place thing of detail and dreary performance-he does not regard the merchandising proposition as an uninteresting matter of barter and sale any more than we looked at old "88" as a mere piece of machinery. He puts his life, soul and being into his business.

And that is why he wins!

As Touching As Loyalty

HAT mighty interesting little publication, "The Business Builder" issued by Brown & Bigelow, St. Paul, has recently printed a story about "Billy."

Billy, it seems was a clerk who felt it his moral duty to disobey his employer and mail a $1,300 check instead of one for

$1,150, the amount incorrectly billed by one of the firms with which this company did business.

Billy discovered the mistake made by the other fellow, went to his employer, calling the latter's attention to the fact, stating that the amount should be $1,300.

The employer told Billy to send a check for the smaller amount-and "forget it," or words to that effect.

Now, there is not the slightest doubt in this case but what the employer was dishonest. But the clerk was certainly not justified in taking the matter in his own hands.

He hadn't the slightest right to do other than as he was instructed-while he did have the great American privilege of quitting his job any time he didn't like his employer's methods.

This brings us around to Elbert Hubbard's famous epic"Get in line or get out."

There is not an employe, whether he is little or big, who hasn't it within his power to show this one big, indispensable quality of loyalty. Billy, in the instance above referred to, placed himself directly counter to his employer-and his empler's idea of his own interests.

He disobeyed. He did exactly what he knew he had been told not to do. He took the moral law and his employer's business in his own hands.

"Billies" are not successful business men of today. Neither are they desired employes.

Honesty is essential to lasting business success, in spite of all that has been said to the contrary, and all the instances of successful graft and corruption that have been pointed out by the lurid press. The righteous element in business is a good element and mighty valuable for the commercial future of the country. But for the individual who is on the payroll to usurp his boss's rights as to decisions in vital matters of this kind, for him to handle his employer's money contrary to instructions, is in itself not only disloyal but downright dishonest.

A great many of these men who carry goodness to the extreme, are rather overbalanced by the effort. It gives them a slant, which, as in Billy's case, sometimes makes them crooked on the side of righteousness-which is crookedness none the less.

DDDDDDDDDDDDL

B

I Don't Know

ACK in Ohio there was a certain Presbyterian preacher who
made a forcible impression on my boyhood.

He was a quaint old chap with wierd whiskers and an odd manner of dressing.

But he was solid sense through and through.

And a convincing talker!

Well, he was the first and only man I have ever heard who found any plausibility in the ancient Presbyterian doctrine of infant damnation. He could really talk infant damnation and make you like it.

Anyhow, he preached some grand old sermons.

And I remember one especially-I don't know where he got his text or whether or not he had a text-but the whole burden of his discourse rested on the three words "I don't know."

It was a candid setting forth of the things about religion and life, and about the hereafter that were too deep for him.

He didn't attempt by any scientific use of befuddled theology to get around matters that were really not clear to him. And I am inclined to think that if this fine old student was unable to answer questions to which he appended "I don't know," there are mighty few who could have given us any more light. The point I started out to make is this:

There is nothing finer, franker, or more surely a proof of bigness than a willingness to admit things that one doesn't know. In this business of advertising there is so much cock-sure

ness.

So many brilliant and callow youths who are willing and glad to give the final and eternal answer to every advertising question.

So many advertising "experts" are confident-if not competent-in their ability to analyze your business by the tick of the clock, and to give you off-hand their complete and unchangeable recommendations as to a policy which would involve the spending of thousands of dollars.

So many of us who write for the advertising press are willing by the scratch of the pencil to lay down dogmatic rules which must be followed to attain success.

Isn't it a positive relief to encounter an advertising man with the ripe experience and bruised-in knowledge, with the breadth of view and mental horizon, who will simply and candidly say to you on many advertising points-"I don't know."

"I don't know" is not always a confession of weakness-it is frequently an expression of strength.

No two advertising propositions are alike.

There is no one who can really guarantee results.

And the advertising man, be he representative of an agency or a publication, who can tell you in advance exactly what you may expect, and can surely count on from your advertising, is dealing as wildly in futures as the Gypsy lady who discloses the things to come when you have crossed her hand with a piece of silver.

Marshall Field, that wonderful merchandiser, whose name we have not forgotten, and whose institution is still a monument to his personal wisdom and gift of organization, once said that his success came through his being right fifty-five per cent-the other forty-five per cent he conceded was devoted to mistakes. Don't know it all. Don't trust those who know it all. A little humility isn't a dangerous thing.

The man who is willing to say "I don't know" and then goes ahead and gets the facts

The man who says "I don't know" and then puts himself in a position to know—

That's the man who is doing things in the advertising world.
That's the man whom it is safe for you to tie up with.

A

The Courteous Note in
Advertising

FEW years ago when professors in psychology proceeded to re-educate the world with reference to advertising, "the direct command," was announced to be the most powerful force

in copy,

The psychologists told us that it was possible practically to club readers into purchasing if your attitude was sufficiently commanding and your copy literally swept them off their feet.

The harder and harsher the statement, the more powerful its effect.

Along about this time Major Harry Kramer, of Cascaret fame came out with the quiet and simple advertising request "Please buy and try Cascarets."

The word "please" was then practically an unknown quantity as far as advertising was concerned.

But I believe there was more true psychology in the introduction of that little courteous request, than in all the directcommand advertising that was ever written.

Nowadays people are not clubbed into buying. They ask and expect courtesy in salesmanship.

It does not make one whit of difference whether that salesmanship is by word of mouth or in printed form-there has got to be some decent regard for the sensibilities of the party of the second part.

The biggest difference, perhaps, in the low class stores and the high class stores of any city is in the attitude of the salespeople.

It is possible to obtain values almost any place-depending on the merchandising ability of the management.

But the true spirit of courtesy, of refinement, the true appreciation of patrons, are what mark the merchandising institution of the higher sort.

The salesman or the sales woman, who attends to your wants, not merely in a mechanical deliver-the-goods-asked-for style, but by becoming personally interested and by carefully and respectfully meeting your desires, is the one who gives real character to the establishment.

The advertisement which swats you rudely across the face with a brusque injunction-do this or that is pretty sure to awaken resent rather than response.

じ