|I AM now preparing for general use and desire to call the attention of
numerous readers to what I have nominated the Campaigner's Companion,
for use during or preceding a hot political campaign. Eureka is a very
tame expression for this unique little contrivance, as it is good for
any speaker and on behalf of any party, I care not of what political
belief the orator may be. It is intended for immediate use, like a box
of dry plates on an amateur photographic tour, only that it is more on
the principle of the Organette, with from 500 to 5,000 tunes packed with
it ready for use.
It is intended to be worked easily on the rear platform of a special
car, and absolutely prevents repetition or the wrong application of
local gags. Every political speaker of any importance has suffered more
or less from what may be called the misplaced gag, such as localizing
the grave of a well-known member of Congress in the wrong county or
swelling up with pardonable pride over large soap works in a rival town
fifty miles away from the one where they really are. All these things
weaken the political possibilities of great men and bring contumely upon
the party they represent.
My idea is to arrange a sort of Organette on the rear platform of the
car, to be operated by steam conducted from the engine by means of
pipes, the contrivance to be entirely out of sight, under a neat little
spread made of the American flag. Behind this an eminent man may stand
with his hand socked into the breast of his frock coat nearly up to the
elbow, and while his bosom swells with pardonable pride the engineer
turns on steam. Previously the private secretary has inserted a speech
prepared on punched paper, furnished by me and bearing on that special
town and showing a degree of familiarity with that neighborhood which
would win the entire adult population.
Behind this machine the eminent speaker weaves to and fro, simply making
the gestures and shutting off the steam with his foot whenever there is
a manifest desire on the part of the audience to applaud.
I am having over five hundred good one-night towns prepared in this way
and, if it would not take up too much of your space, I would like to
give here one speech, illustrating my idea and showing the plan in
brief, though with each machine I furnish a little book called "Every
Man his Own Demosthenes." This book tells exactly how to work the
Campaigner's Companion and makes it almost a pleasure to aspire to
office.
I have chosen as an illustration a speech that I have had prepared for
Asheville, N. C., but all the others are equally applicable and apropos.
(Note: See that all bearing's are well oiled before you start,
especially political bearings. See that the crank is just tight enough,
without being too tight, and also that the journals do not get hot.)
_Fellow-Citizens of Asheville and Buncombe County and Brother Tarheels
from Away Back_:
If I were a faithful Mohammedan and believed that I could never enter
heaven but once, I would look upon Buncombe County and despair ever
afterwards. (Four minutes for applause to die away.) Asheville is 2,339
feet above tide-water. She is the hotbed of the invalid and the home
of the physical wreck who cannot live elsewhere, but who comes here and
lives till he gets plum sick of it. Your mountain breezes and your fried
chicken bear strength and healing in their wings. (Hold valve open two
minutes and a half to give laughter full scope.) Your altitude and your
butter are both high, and the man who cannot get all the fresh air he
wants on your mountains will do well to rent one of your cottages and
allow the wind to meander through his whiskers. Asheville is a beautiful
spot, where a peri could put in a highly enjoyable summer, picknicking
along the Swananea through the day and conversing with Plum Levy at
his blood-curdling barber shop in the gloaming. Nothing can possibly
be thrillinger than to hear Plum tell of the hair-breadth escapes his
customers have had in his cozy little shop.
The annual rainfall here is 40.2 inches, while smoking tobacco and
horned cattle both do well. Ten miles away stretches Alexander's. You
are only thirty-five miles from Buck Forest. Pisgah Mountain is only
twenty miles from here, and Tahkeeastee Farm is only a mile away, with
its name extending on beyond as far as the eye can reach. The French
Broad River bathes your feet on the right and the sun-kissed Swananoa,
with its beautiful borders of rhododendrons, sloshes up against you on
the other side. Mount Mitchell, with an altitude of 6,711 feet and an
annual rain-fall of 53.8 inches, is but twenty miles distant, while
Lower Hominy is near, and Hell's Half Acre, Sandy Mush and Blue Ruin are
within your grasp.
The sun never lit up a cuter little town than Asheville. Nature just
seemed to wear herself out on Buncombe County and then she took what
she had left over to make the rest of the country. Your air is full of
vigor. Your farms get up and hump themselves in the middle or on one
side, so that you have to wear a pair of telegraph-pole climbers when
you dig your potatoes. Here you will see the japonica, the jonquil
and the jaundice growing side by side in the spring, and at the
cheese-foundry you can hear the skipper calling to his mate.
Here is the home of General Tom Clingman, who first originated the
idea of using tobacco externally for burns, scalds, ringworm, spavin,
pneumonia, Bright's disease, poll evil, pip, garget, heartburn, earache
and financial stringency Here Randolph & Hunt can do your job printing
for you, and the _Citizen_ and the _Advance_ will give you the news.
You are on a good line of railroad and I like your air very much, aside
from the air just played by your home band. Certainly you have here the
makings of a great city. You have pure air enough here for a city
four times your present size, and although I have seen most all the
Switzerlands of America, I think that this is in every way preferable.
People who are in search of a Switzerland of America that can be relied
upon will do well to try your town.
And now, having touched upon everything of national importance that I
can think of, I will close by telling you a little anecdote which will,
perhaps, illustrate my position better than I could do it in any other
way. (Here I insert a humorous anecdote which has no special bearing on
the political situation and during the ensuing laughter the train pulls
out.)