WOOLTON COMES TO TOWN
The next morning, while I was in the middle of breakfast, the telephone
rang. I jumped up to answer it and recognized Barlow's voice.
"That you, Black?" he said.
"Yes," I said. "Betty's home: she came yesterday!"
"Glad to hear it," he replied. "I wish you would drop in at the store
this morning, if you can; will you?"
"Sure," I answered, but felt somewhat disappointed. He seemed to treat
Betty's return as a mere nothing!
When I joined Betty at the table I told her about my automobile
arrangement with him. She seemed very pleased at that. Betty thought a
lot of Barlow, and I thought more of him than I used to. I had
considered him as an old duffer; but I had learned that he was a quiet,
thoughtful, progressive business man.
As soon as I got into his store he beckoned me to the rear.
"Say, Black, you've got some vacuum cleaners," he said; "I'm not
handling those things, and I wish you'd send one up to the wife. She's
always said she wanted one. I'll pay you now--how much?"
I told him the cost price and suggested that he pay me ten per cent.
over that, which he said was perfectly agreeable.
Then he said, "I couldn't help laughing the other day. Martin seemed to
be quite worried."
"Worried? What about? He was all right last night."
"I don't mean Charlie; I mean Bill Martin, who runs the garage. It seems
somebody said that the Martin who is with you is contemplating getting
into the garage business, and Billy Martin thinks that the confusion of
names will take a lot of business away from him."
"Who on earth said a thing like that?" I laughed.
"Oh, you know how these rumors get started. They start from nowhere and
they carry on indefinitely. The best thing, of course, is to ignore
anything like that."
"Funny that the name should be just the same, isn't it? Especially when
we--"
He put a warning finger to his lips and then I remembered my promise not
to mention to any one our coming deal in automobile accessories and
gasoline.
"I told Betty," I said.
"That's all right; Betty has an excellent forgettery."
Just as I was leaving he said, "I understand that your friend Stigler is
contemplating getting out of his five-and-ten-cent business."
I grinned. "Made it too hot for him, have I?"
"I don't know about that," he said; "but I understand that Woolton's
five-and-ten-cent store people are buying the place, and adding it to
their chain. Well, good-by," and he turned abruptly and left me.
When I walked back to the store I felt mighty uncomfortable--Woolton,
the biggest five-and-ten-cent chain in the country, next door to me! I
hadn't minded somehow, while it was Stigler, because he hadn't
sufficient money to carry a big variety of stock as they did. Neither
did he know anything about organization, or marketing methods, as the
Woolton people did.
As I neared my store I happened to notice Stigler and a short, thick-set
man coming out of his five-and-ten-cent store. As they passed me Stigler
said, "Howdy, Black," with an attempt at joviality. Stigler had been
looking much older lately. He wore a worried look.
When I passed his store I noticed two dapper young men busily writing. I
made the guess that they were stock taking.
I told Martin and Larsen about it. Larsen pooh-poohed the idea of being
afraid of the competition. Martin felt differently, however.
I expected the Woolton people would take over the store on the first of
the month, and if so they would advertise big bargains the day before.
They were sure to have crowds of people visiting them the first two or
three days the store was opened, because they always offered as leaders
some tremendous values. I mentioned this to Martin.
"The thing we've got to do, Mr. Black, if I may say so," he said, "is to
see if we can't get the jump on them in some way, and also trim our
windows so as to profit by any one visiting their store."
Jones, who was inclined, like Larsen, to deprecate the idea of fearing
them, said, "I guess we needn't worry about them. We're educating the
people to buy something better than five-and-ten-cent goods. Just keep
up the educating stunt, Boss."
"You will find," said Martin, "that the Woolton people will make their
store as bright as possible, and I am afraid that ours will look a
little dull in comparison."
When Stigler had had the store fitted up he had had some very powerful
lights put in, but he had never used them much. My store was not any too
bright, although, of course, like him, I used electricity.
"I tell you what we'll do," I said. "We'll have an electrical display in
both windows and, for the first week, we'll try to get a bigger blaze of
light in our windows than they will have. We'll display the best quality
goods that we can, so as to avoid any attempt at competition with them,
but we'll make our store so bright that every one going to their store
for bargains will be impressed with our up-to-dateness."
That is what we decided to do.
Martin had given me his handbill advertising the vacuum cleaners. On the
next page is a copy of it.
LET INVISIBLE HANDS DO YOUR HEAVY CLEANING
Instead of hiring help to clean your carpets, let one
of our PEERLESS ELECTRICAL VACUUM SWEEPERS do it for
you.
PEERLESS ELECTRICAL VACUUM SWEEPERS are quiet,
efficient, and thorough. You don't have to find meals
for them and they never answer back.
If you have electricity in your home hire a PEERLESS
ELECTRICAL VACUUM SWEEPER to clean your rugs.
$2.00 a day--delivered and collected free.
A child can operate them, but they do the work of a
giant.
A special demonstration all next week at
DAWSON BLACK'S HARDWARE STORE
32 Hill St.
"If it's electrical you can get it from us."
I had had Roger Burns around for dinner the previous Sunday. He used to
go to school with Betty and me, so of course when I told Betty that the
New England Hardware Company, for which Roger was working, had made him
manager of its chain store in Farmdale, the first thing she said was
that we must ask him for dinner.
While Betty and the Mater were clearing away the dinner things, I asked
Roger how business was coming along.
"Well," he said, "we knew pretty well what we would do before we came."
"How could you tell?" I asked, laughing.
"We knew how much money we were to invest in Farmdale. We knew how often
we ought to turn over our stock every year. We also knew what our
expenses would be, and what our profits would be."
I couldn't help smiling as I said, "The only thing you didn't know was
whether the people would buy the goods."
"That's where you're wrong," said Roger. "We knew what the people would
buy, because we analyzed the market so thoroughly. We knew just what
kind of goods each class of people bought; and how often they bought
certain kinds of goods. And with our experience in marketing we knew how
to get them into our store."
After Roger had left I thought that over a lot, and believed there was
some truth in what he had said.
"Of course," I said, "it is much easier for you people to make money
than it is for me, because you buy much cheaper than I can, and your
expenses are so much less. You could afford to sell cheaper than I do,
and still make a handsome profit."
"As a matter of fact," said Roger, "you are wrong; for, while the actual
operating expense of this store would be a smaller percentage than your
actual operating expense, we have a heavy supervision cost. It is a
fallacy to believe that the larger store can operate for less expense.
It cannot. The bigger business you have, the more money you have to pay
the executives to control that business, and there is such a scramble
for really big men that salaries of fifteen thousand dollars and twenty
thousand dollars a year are not unusual. Our general manager makes
eighteen thousand dollars a year!"
"Think of making eighteen thousand dollars a year! Three hundred and
sixty a week! Sixty a day! Working six hours a day! Ten dollars an hour!
And here I pike along on twenty-five dollars a week and work my head off
ten hours a day. Then you mean to say that it really costs you more to
do business than it does me?"
"It surely does," he said, "but, while we get a smaller net profit on
each sale, we possibly exercise more judgment in buying than you do, as
we see that everything we buy is a quick seller. That off-sets the
increased cost of doing business.
"Another big advantage the chain store has over the single store,"
continued Roger, "is that we have very little unsalable stock to dispose
of. For instance, I have just had a lot of brushes sent me from one of
the other stores. They cannot sell them, so, rather than have them sold
at a sacrifice, the brushes were sent on to us. I am doing quite a big
business in paint brushes--you know we specialize on brushes of all
kinds, and I really think that already we are beginning to dominate that
field in Farmdale.
"By the way," added Roger, "you ought to meet Pat Burke."
"Pat Burke?"
"Yes, he is the manager of the new Woolton store here--awfully nice
fellow."
"When did you know him?" I said.
"Strange to say, he was assistant manager of the Hartford Woolton store
when I was there, and I got to know him quite well."
"I hardly like to call on him," I said. "Remember, he's a direct
competitor of mine, and next door to me."
"Competitor nothing," said Roger good-naturedly. "You are not
competitors at all. You are selling different classes of goods, and you
ought to supplement each other."
That was a new thought to me. I wondered if a five-and-ten-cent store
was a hindrance or a help to an adjoining hardware store?
A man named Purkes ran a grocery store at the corner opposite Traglio's
drug store. He was an undersized man and fussed and interfered with
everybody else's business, and made a living chiefly because he hadn't
much competition.
About two weeks before, a salesman of cheap enamelware had come into
town, gone to Purkes, and sold him two or three cases of "seconds."
Purkes thought he was a real fellow when he filled his window full of
those seconds. The same week I was having a display of perfect
enamelware. He put a price on his goods of ten cents each. He also had a
big sign in the window, reading: "Don't pay fancy prices for enamelware.
Purkes's cut-rate grocery store will sell you all you want for ten cents
each. Pick them out as long as they last."
Now, old Barlow always played the game square. Stigler was certainly a
hardware man, and I could stand for his cut prices; but, when a grocery
store came butting in, I felt mad, and I told Charlie Martin that I'd
like to get Purkes's scalp somehow. Charlie suggested quite a good
little stunt.
Three days after Purkes offered his enamelware I had a window full
of--what do you think?--tea; in half-pound packets! And it was an
advertised line, Milton's, which was a line that Purkes had sold for a
long time! That tea usually sold for fifty cents a pound. I put a sign
in the window saying: "Why pay fifty cents a pound for Milton's tea,
when you can buy it here for thirty-eight cents a pound, nineteen cents
the half pound."
That was exactly what it cost us. Martin had got hold of it for us from
a friend of his in Providence, who was a wholesale grocer.
You really would have laughed to see Purkes come flying into our store
about fifteen minutes after our window trim was complete. He reminded me
of a wet hen who had had her tail feathers pulled out. He couldn't
speak, he just sputtered and pointed to the window. After a minute I
caught the words, "Scoundrel!" and "robber!" and "unjust!" and "report
to the Merchants' Association!"
I turned around and caught sight of Charlie grinning his head off. He
passed the high sign to me, which I understood to mean "Let him talk."
So I beckoned to Charlie to come over.
"This is the man who thought up that idea," I said to Purkes. "It's a
good one, don't you think?"
Both Charlie and I saw that Purkes was going to explode again, so
Charlie said:
"Now listen, Mr. Purkes. Do you think it is any worse for us to sell tea
than for you to sell enamelware?"
"But that's just a job line I bought! Just the little I sell could not
hurt you,"--then he added maliciously, "unless, of course, you get fancy
prices for your goods."
I felt like throwing him out of the store; but Charlie ignored his last
remark and said, "That idea of yours selling enamelware was so excellent
that I thought we ought to copy it. You sell hardware--we sell
groceries."
"You are--how long are you going to continue selling tea?"
"Only until this lot is sold out."
"I'll tell you what," said Purkes, brightening up, "I'll buy your tea
of you and you buy my enamelware."
"We don't sell seconds in enamelware, Mr. Purkes, so your enamelware is
useless to us."
"Very well, I will continue to sell enamelware."
"We quite expected you would, Mr. Purkes. We are not going to sell tea
after we have cleaned out this one lot, however."
"But by the time you've sold out that one lot you will have established
such a ridiculous price that I probably will have to cut my price to
satisfy the people. Why, the stuff costs you more than you sell it for."
"Guess we're satisfied with what we are making out of tea, Charlie,
aren't we?"
"Yes," he answered, "but I think we are going to do even better on the
Cross Tree jams."
These jams were the most advertised in the country, and Purkes was the
local agent for them.
The little chap let off a scream. "I'll stop you getting them!" he
cried. "I'll sue you!--I'll--!" He stopped abruptly and asked, "Where
did you get them?"
"From the plumber's!" said Charlie, "Where did you think?"
"But you can't get them--I've the sole agency."
"In that case," I returned, "you've nothing to worry about, have you?"
The outcome of it was, however, that Purkes promised to take his
enamelware off sale at once and get the manufacturers to take it
back--even at a loss---or, failing that, to sell his stock to some store
outside of Farmdale. We in return were to sell him our tea at forty
cents a pound. The little chap kicked at this, but he agreed.
Having got the matter fixed up, he said, "There now, that's settled,
thank goodness. It isn't nice to have disputes among friends, is it?
I'll send my man up for that tea this afternoon, so that you won't be
bothered to send it down," and he peered over his spectacles and smiled
benignly.
"We will let you have the tea as soon as your enamelware has left town.
Until then we will keep it here, in case we need it," I replied.
"What, don't you trust me?" he exclaimed.
Here I forgot myself, for I turned round sharply and said: "I do _not_!
I'm almost sorry that you agreed to get rid of that enamelware, for, by
heaven, there's a good profit in groceries, and it wouldn't take me more
than two minutes to get into that line myself!"
Old Purkes went white to the gills and assured me hastily that he would
get the enamelware out of town as quickly as possible.
I felt so stuck on myself when he left the store that I wanted to stand
on the counter and crow.
"You threw a good bluff," said Charlie, after Purkes had left.
"What do you mean--bluff?" said I, surprised. "No bluff there. I meant
every word of it!"
"Even to starting a grocery business?"
"Aw, that," I said sheepishly. "It was a bit foolish because, while
business is booming with us, I find that every little bit of extra
profit I make has to go into stock. So, as regards actual cash, I am no
better off than I was six months ago. However, bluff or no bluff, I
really think we've killed the grocer's competition."
I wonder more retail merchants don't retaliate in this way on merchants
in other lines who make this kind of competition. Perhaps they don't
because they don't want to offend a fellow townsman. They forget,
however, that their fellow townsman doesn't hesitate to offend them.
Pat Burke came into the store that afternoon and introduced himself to
me, saying, "Roger Burns sent me, as he wanted me to know you."
He was a short, thick-set man, and spoke on generalities for a little
while.
"How's business coming along?" I asked him.
"Very well indeed," he said.
"How did you find the business when you took it over from Stigler?"
Without any expression on his face at all he said, "Just about what we
expected."
"What do you think of Stigler?" I asked him.
He didn't say anything for a minute, but let his eyes roam around the
store.
"I certainly like the way you have your electrical goods displayed, Mr.
Black," he said. "You have a good trimmer, whoever he is."
"I do it myself."
"The dickens you do!" he commented. "Well, that is one of the most
attractive displays I have seen in a long while. I want to compliment
you. If you were in Boston or New York you would give up running a store
of your own, and be head of the decorative department of some big
department store. Do you know that some of those head window trimmers
make as much as five thousand dollars a year?"
We got on a general discussion of window trimming.
"Well, I've got to get back to the store," he finally said. "When you
have an evening at liberty I should like to have a chat with you. I
think we ought to be able to help each other."
It was not until he had gone that I realized that he had never answered
my question relative to Stigler. He put it off as neatly as anything I
ever saw.