“_A wise woman knows that economy in money isn’t always real
economy._”--H. C. OF L. PROVERB NO. 4.
Mr. Larry tasted the second mouthful of lemon pie and glanced at Mrs.
Larry. Then he plunged into the business of finishing off its yellow
and white sweetness, just as if it had been Mrs. Larry’s very best
brand of dessert.
“Oh, Larry dear, don’t--_don’t eat it_. It’s simply fearful--and I
bought it at the exchange, too. I guess she put too much corn-starch in
it--or didn’t cook it enough.”
There was the hint of tears in her voice, and her chin quivered just
enough to deepen the dimple that cleft it. Down went Mr. Larry’s
after-dinner coffee cup, and in two strides he was round the table,
throwing his arms about her. He spoke very tenderly:
“What is the matter, dearest? Are you sick?”
“No--honey--I’m just a little fool!” And now the tears flowed frankly
and unchecked.
“You’re nothing of the sort, and one lemon pie--”
“It’s not the pie, Larry, it’s--it’s _everything_! Ever since I started
to cut down our table expenses, I’ve been losing money in other ways. I
can’t be in two places at once, can I?”
Mr. Larry shook his head.
“And so--when I’m chasing all over town looking for cheaper markets,
things go wrong here at home. While I was picking up bargains in
poultry and vegetables in the city market last Saturday, Lena broke one
of my best goblets--they cost me forty-five cents each--there went all
I saved on vegetables. I never let Lena wash the fine glass and china
when I’m home.
“Then this afternoon I went to Mrs. Norton’s to talk about organizing
a marketing club to buy in quantities, and suddenly remembered I had
made no dessert. The exchange charged sixty cents for that apology for
a pie. I could make the real thing for twenty.”
“You bet you could,” remarked Mr. Larry, heartily if inelegantly.
“And the cleaner charged me one dollar for cleaning baby’s coat. I’ve
always done it myself with a quarter’s worth of gasoline. So here I
am, trying to work out some method of reducing household expenses, but
neglecting my house and cooking and wondering whether in the end I’ll
have saved even a single penny.”
“Experiments are sometimes costly, but if they develop into labor
savers or expense reducers, they are well worth while. You remember
Maguire, who insisted that if the firm would give him time to
experiment he could make one of our machines double its capacity? The
firm agreed and paid his salary for two years. Then suddenly he turned
the trick, and cut down expenses in that particular line of output
about one-third. That paid, didn’t it?”
“Oh, Larry, you are _so_ comforting. I do think there must be something
in cooperation, in buying directly from producers in large quantities,
because everybody is talking about it.”
“Then stop worrying about the little leaks and stick to it till you
find out where the big saving lies,” said Mr. Larry.
“And, by the way, here’s a letter I found under the door and forgot
to give you before dinner. Of course, I’m not jealous--but I have a
natural curiosity to learn what Kansas City man dares write my wife.”
Mrs. Larry reached for the letter, worry vanishing before the sunny
smile.
“Jimmy Graves! Give it to me instanter!”
Mr. Larry retained his grip on the letter and looked at her accusingly.
“Now, little woman, don’t you try to understudy destiny. It’s ticklish
business to patch up a quarrel between sweethearts. Better let them
work out their own salvation.”
Mrs. Larry possessed herself of the envelope, patted the hand that
relinquished it, and replied:
“Did you ever think, honey, how many young couples, blinded by anger,
self-pity or pride, can not see the road which leads to the salvation
of their happiness? Well, I just painted a sign-board, not another
thing, Larry, so let’s see whether Jimmy read it aright.”
“Dear Mrs. Larry,” ran the letter--“It certainly was good of you to
write me so kindly after I rushed out of town without so much as
telephoning, but, manlike, I left a lot of things till the very last
minute. And it was jolly to hear of the adventure in thrift which you
and Claire are sharing. You know the sort of girl she is, too modest to
let even the man who loves her know how thorough and earnest she is.
She hasn’t written me a word about it, and perhaps she won’t, so if you
have time to drop me an occasional line about your jaunts, I sure would
enjoy it. And when you’ve done all the stunts, perhaps I might come on
and blow you both to a dinner, reward of virtue and all that sort of
thing. That is, if you think it wise for me to come.
“My regards to old Larry and chuck both the kiddies under the chin for
their adopted Uncle Jimmy.
“P. S.--Don’t let Claire overdo the thing. Remember I am trusting you
with the biggest thing in my life.”
Mrs. Larry raised shining eyes to her husband’s face.
“Oh, my dear, can you read between the lines? He doesn’t admit that
anything has happened between them--man creature that he is--but he is
starving for a word of her.”
“Well, why don’t you tell her?”
“Honey, she’d never speak to me again. No--I shall just write an
occasional sign-board for Jimmy. Claire doesn’t deserve one.”
“Don’t be so hard on Claire, dear. Remember, she didn’t have your
advantages--a sane home life--a fine wholesome mother who believed in
marriage for love--”
“To say nothing of a man worth waiting and working for--” interrupted
Mrs. Larry.
“Outside the question, madam. Claire has been raised in the atmosphere
of personal luxury and in the belief that there is nothing worse than
having to do for herself and for others. If she wasn’t vastly different
from her pleasure-loving mother, Jimmy Graves never would have had a
chance with her. It would have been a millionaire or nothing for her.”
“And as she has turned her back on millionaires, I propose to do my
part in steering her toward happiness with the common or garden
variety of husband. But, of course, this must be done tactfully. So,
when she comes for the conference to-night--you are to act as if she
just dropped in accidentally and we insisted on her staying to see the
fun.”
“Fun! Um-m--” murmured Mr. Larry. “If this conference is on the
practical question of reducing the cost of living, and Claire betrays
interest, I fear she will rouse the suspicions of sharp-eyed, clever
Teresa Moore. Why can’t you women play the game of being in love, like
we men do, open and above aboard?”
“Because, dearest husband, for generations we have been taught that a
‘nice’ girl does not flaunt love. Your grandmothers might have died of
love, but admit it--never. However, at the present rate of liberation,
we’ll soon be proposing--”
“Do you really believe that men propose? Why--”
“Now, Larry Hall, don’t you dare start that moth-eaten argument. You
did--”
“Of course, but _you_ were an exceptional girl--”
Having admitted that such might be the case and having escaped from
her husband’s enfolding arms, Mrs. Larry outlined the evening’s plans.
“You remember that dear little Mrs. Norton I met coming from the
Queensboro market? Well, she and I decided that on this block are
enough housekeepers to form a market club--”
“No doubt the lady across the hall, with the chestnut locks and the
five hundred dollar Pekinese, will be deeply interested in such a
project.”
“Now, Larry, don’t be discouraging. We have been looking over our
neighbors, and we’re going to start with the ones that take their own
babies for an airing on the drive.”
“Wise and observant lady!”
“I wrote to Mrs. Bleecker Bangs, president of the Brooklyn Market Club,
for suggestions, and she answered right away. Her letter with the
clippings she enclosed will help us outline our plans.”
“And who are ‘we’?”
“Mrs. Norton, Teresa, Claire--”
“Then I’m expected to furnish a valid excuse for spending the evening
away from home?”
“No, indeedy. You stop right here. Mr. Norton and Mr. Moore are coming.
You men can help us organize. You ought to help. It’s your money we’re
trying to save.”
“Quite so;” responded Mr. Larry, with sudden gravity. After all, these
investigations did seem to mean quite a lot to the men who earned the
money.
So at eight o’clock, Mrs. Larry faced her little audience of six, Mrs.
Bleecker Bangs’ letter in hand:
* * * * *
“400 Lafayette Avenue, Brooklyn, N. Y.
“My Dear Mrs. Hall--I would be very glad to supply you with suggestions
for organizing your club, but my time is taken with writing. Ladies by
dozens are asking me how to organize and should be instructed. So I
send you newspaper clippings, interviews with me, which will do just as
well. Follow the suggestions in these articles and you will have great
success, I am sure.
“Sincerely,
“Charlotte R. Bangs.”
* * * * *
“Explicit and to the point,” remarked Mr. Larry. “And now for the
clippings.”
“‘On Friday evening,” Mrs. Larry continued, “every member of the club
comes to see me and brings a list of the things she would like to have
purchased for her. She also brings her money, because everything is
cash, and I have to have the money to pay as soon as I have made my
purchase. I go to the market about eight o’clock, because the busiest
time is over then, and I can pick up bargains. That is the whole secret
of saving by this plan--buying bargains which are going for almost
nothing. For instance, a broken basket of fine Hubbard squashes will be
offered at a very great reduction, because the busy time is over.
“‘I purchase to the best advantage I can. The things are delivered at
my home early in the afternoon, and all the housekeepers come over and
take their things home, and settle the account then and there.
“‘The rules of the club are not many nor very complicated. We hold
business meetings once a month for the purpose of making a schedule
of buyers. That means four members each twenty-eight days; two trips
to market for each member. When it is inconvenient for a member, she
gives her reasons, and usually some other member is ready to step in
and exchange with her. Of course, each club member knows who is to buy
that week. Monday and Thursday nights each member of the club sends
in a list of the things she wants, with the quantity and the money.
The marketer combines these lists to get the quantity as well as the
articles.
“‘What happens if only one person wants a small quantity of one
particular item? That article is crossed from their list, and they are
warned, so they can get it from the greengrocer. We had a lot of that
when the club first started; now it seldom happens. Even when it did
happen, and the various members bought one or more items each week
from the greengrocer, they saved so much on the staple items bought
wholesale that we have never had one who willingly withdrew from the
club.’”
Mrs. Larry paused dramatically, and Mrs. Norton murmured, “Lovely!”
“Does she give any actual comparison between her prices and what the
ordinary housewife pays?” asked Mr. Moore.
“Oh, yes,” answered Mrs. Larry. “Here’s a table:
Retail Market
Grocers’ Price Club Price
Lettuce, a head 10c 2½c
Squashes 5c 1c
Celery, a bunch 15c 4½c
Best butter 40c 29c
Best eggs, a dozen 40c 26c
Potatoes, a bushel $2.40 $1.25
Apples, a bushel 1.25 50c
Tomatoes, a quart 10c 2c
Cauliflower, each 10c to 15c 3½c
“‘Besides, we pick up bargains by getting in after the rush is over.
Only last week I bought beautiful lettuce at a cent a head. Earlier in
the day it had sold at two and a half cents the head to greengrocers,
who retailed it at ten cents.
“‘Do we save as much as that, the difference between two and a half and
ten cents on everything? On a good many things, yes!’
“Imagine! Last Thanksgiving she bought white grapes by the keg,”
interrupted Mrs. Larry; “sixty pounds at eight cents a pound, when all
retailers were asking us eighteen and twenty cents. Just listen:
“‘At the end of each year the secretary makes her report, showing
approximately how much the members of the club have saved. The
difference is between the wholesale and retail prices of food supplies.
Last year’s report showed a saving of nearly sixty per cent. That was
our banner year, but we have never run below forty per cent. At first I
counted on saving forty per cent.; now we think it safe to say we save
fifty-five per cent.’
“Now, Teresa, isn’t that great?”
“It is, my dear--too great to be practical or to last. I investigated
the Brooklyn Market Club when it was first started several years ago,
and found it was practically only for Mrs. Bangs and her particular
little group. In that group were her own married daughters and a very
few intimate, tried friends, who understood one another and worked out
the plan systematically. Then, for months Mrs. Bangs gave herself
over to running the club. She had no children at home, nothing to
interfere with the successful management of that little organization.
In fact, when I asked her whether any one else would take up the work
if she dropped it, she said she was quite sure no one could. And any
organization which demands an enthusiast, a fanatic, as its manager is
not practical.”
“But, my dear woman,” remarked Mrs. Norton briskly, “surely any of us
could train ourselves for the work.”
“Any one who does must be paid for it, must make a business of it,
because it will take all her time. I don’t want to throw cold water on
your lovely plan, Mrs. Larry,” she said affectionately, “but I don’t
want you chasing rainbows. Let us analyze some of Mrs. Bangs’ figures
and compare them with our own needs. You speak of organizing a club of
six. Well, let us say ten, if we are to buy in such quantities. Very
well. Mrs. Bangs buys sixty pounds of white grapes in order to secure
a keg at the rate of eight cents a pound. What would you and I do with
six pounds of grapes? How could we keep them until they were used, in
our little apartments? And do you know what lettuce at two and three
cents a head means? Buying a sack or crate of it. We’d receive about
eight heads, each one of us--and how much would we have to throw away
when it spoiled on our hands? My husband won’t live on lettuce!
“And then there is the question of delivery. I have bought fruit
wholesale for preserving, and paid from twenty-five cents to a
dollar for having it delivered. At the lower figure, you wait till
the expressman pleases to deliver it. Then comes the question of
distributing it from the apartment at which it is delivered. How would
your kitchen look if it was the delivery center, and we divided up
sacks of potatoes, barrels of apples, kegs of grapes and crates of
lettuce?
“And can you see us, all creeping home after nightfall with our
supplies, leaving you and your girl to clean up the mess? Not for my
kitchen, Mrs. Larry.”
A silence followed these few spirited remarks.
“That does put it in a new light,” said Mrs. Norton at last. “But it
looked so lovely on paper.”
Claire echoed the sigh.
Mrs. Larry, her shoulders drooping pathetically, was folding up the
clippings.
“Don’t let me discourage you,” continued practical Mrs. Moore. “If you
think you can organize and secure ten women willing to give a great
deal of time and put up with considerable inconvenience in order to
save, perhaps, ten per cent. in the final accounting, go ahead and try
it; but I thought you ought to know that I had thoroughly investigated
Mrs. Bangs’ plan and found just where it fails us women in small
apartments. I do not think her club even exists now, but it served
an excellent purpose--it made Mrs. Bangs an authority on household
economics and marketing, and she is very busy writing for publication.”
“Well, then, it helped some one,” remarked Mr. Larry, trying to speak
lightly, and wishing he could pat Mrs. Larry’s hand without being
caught in the act.
“Oh, yes, each of these cooperative plans has its good points,”
continued Mrs. Moore. “I have two friends living in Chicago who belong
to such an organization, and they save a great deal, but they deal
directly with the producers.”
“How?” asked Mr. Norton, deeply interested.
“By parcel post, express and correspondence. Their organization grew
out of the old Fifty-first Street Food and Market Club, formed to clean
up the markets and groceries and stands in their neighborhood. From
cleaning up food, they naturally turned their attention to cutting
down prices. One of the leading spirits of this club, which is little
more than a group of practical, earnest neighbors, is Mrs. J. C. Bley,
president of the famous Chicago Clean Food Club, and active in all the
good works done by the household economic department of the equally
famous Woman’s Club.
“This little band of economists buys potatoes, apples, butter,
eggs, poultry, etc., direct from farmers. One of their number acts
as purchasing agent and general secretary. She carries on the
correspondence with farmers, has all goods shipped to her house
and sends for her coworkers when fresh consignments arrive. She is
practically the middleman for the rest of the club, and receives a
small commission from the members. And she is worth it, because she
conducts their business admirably, and saves them as much as one-third
on their supplies.
“Mrs. Bley, a most practical woman, is deeply interested in the
experiment, and hopes to extend the movement until farmers’ wives and
city housekeepers know each other better and are mutually useful. When
I visited her home last she was making a special study of cartons for
the parcel-post service for her club members. I call that practical.”
“But how do they get in touch with the farmers?” inquired Mr. Norton.
“Through the granges and their secretaries. All farmers’ societies are
encouraging direct sales by parcel-post system. That is the hope of
the woman in the small city apartment or modern cottage, deprived of
cellar, pantry or storage space.
“For the more fortunate woman who can still boast a cellar with dry
bins, or a huge pantry, I imagine that the cooperative league, run
by Mrs. Ellms of Cincinnati, would be ideal. I can not give you the
particulars, but my cousin, Emily Tyler, can, because she was a member
of the organization when she lived in Cincinnati. Wouldn’t you all like
to come round to our house Friday night and meet her?”
The invitation was accepted with enthusiasm, after which Mr. Larry
rolled back the rugs and Mrs. Larry turned on the phonograph for
one-stepping, while Lena appeared with a fruit punch and little cakes.
For, as Mrs. Norton philosophically remarked--“What’s the use of taking
economy so hard that you get to hate it?”
* * * * *
Mrs. Tyler, formerly of Cincinnati, now of Flushing, New York, proved
to be a plump and friendly young matron, with deep blue eyes that took
on a violet tint when she talked earnestly on cooperative buying.
“You see, I’ve brought the documents in the case,” she said smilingly,
as she pointed to a quantity of printed matter on Mrs. Moore’s library
table. “But you must stop me the minute you feel bored. I’m so homesick
for my Cooperative League that it is a joy to talk about it.”
[Illustration: “I’ve brought the documents in the case”]
“First, let me introduce you to what I consider the most practical
organization of practical women in the country----”
She held up a tiny button: “National Housewives’ Cooperative League”
ran the inscription.
“And then to its very capable and practical president, Mrs. Joseph W.
Ellms.”
And here she produced a photograph of a refined, rather
intellectual-looking woman, face oval, mouth firm, eyes looking keenly
through glasses, hair parted and waved over a fine white forehead.
“Mrs. Ellms, with our splendid secretary, Miss Edna O. Crofton, keeps
the sincerity of this organization always alive. For cooperative
buying needs sincerity, firmness and stead-fastness of purpose. No
compromising with the corner grocer or a heedless servant if you want
to be a real cooperator!
“Our League started in a very funny way. We had a typical organization
of mothers known as the Hyde Park Colony Mothers’ Club, with meetings
devoted to the conventional discussions of children, their care,
feeding, education and discipline. One afternoon a member read an
unusual paper on the increased cost of living, and especially the power
which women control as the spenders of the family income. I think it
roused what Mrs. Ellms calls our enlightened consumers’ conscience.
I know that I saw for the first time my duty as the dispenser of my
husband’s earnings.
“That was five years ago. To-day the League in Cincinnati alone is
the buying power for three hundred families, and is growing steadily.
No society of this sort can have a mushroom growth, because the
cooperative idea does not appeal to emotional or impulsive women. Our
Cincinnati membership is divided into three centers. Then each center
is subdivided into groups of ten members, each having its own local
director. All public meetings are held in the public library and its
branches. Demonstrations (tests in foods, weights, measures, etc.) and
distributions are made at the homes of the directors. These directors
are the purchasers for the various groups, except when supplies in
carload lots are to be bought. Such purchases are then made by the
executive board, consisting of the president, the officers and the
directors.
“None of these women are salaried officers. They are anxious to serve
for the experience gained, the educational value of the work, and the
benefit each gains for herself and her neighbors. No woman can do this
work and not keep in touch with the many-sided question of economics.
She corresponds with farmers, manufacturers, merchants big and little,
government officials and professors of household economics and civics.
She must know the true values of such supplies as soaps, cleansers,
etc., as well as foods.
“To give you an idea of our system, last fall we bought flour at five
dollars and fifty cents a barrel, wholesale, delivered to the homes of
members. The market price then for a single barrel was six dollars and
fifty cents. It is now seven dollars and fifty cents. So you see, the
new member, paying her initiation fee of fifty cents and her annual
dues of fifty cents, saved them at once on her one barrel of flour.
“Here is Exhibit A--Bulletin No. 1: Duties of local directors. I want
you to see how good a business woman a director must be.”
She passed around a printed sheet, five by eight inches.
1. Visit wholesalers, commission men and jobbers, and ascertain
wholesale prices on foodstuffs. Also get in touch with the producers as
far as possible and buy directly from them.
2. Buy in large quantities, that is, in barrel and case lots, since the
larger the quantity the less will be the cost.
3. Have all orders shipped to one place, preferably the home of the
local director.
4. The director must own reliable scales and measures, and keep an
accurate account of all goods bought and pay all bills incurred by her
own center.
5. Each month the local director shall appoint a committee of three
women, to whom she shall submit a record of all expenditures and
receipts, together with the original bills for examination and approval.
6. Each member participating in any purchase shares proportionately
according to the amount taken, in the cost of freight and express
charges.
7. Each member of a center must agree before an order is sent to take
and pay CASH for her portion of order when received.
8. Members failing to take their orders, when ready for delivery, shall
forfeit their portion, the same to be sold by the director in any way
she sees fit to reimburse herself.
9. Goods delivered by the director without payment shall be on her own
responsibility, and should she fail to receive money due, she should
have recourse to the usual methods of law to obtain settlement. Neither
the League nor its officers hold themselves responsible for debts
incurred by local centers or their directors.
“You probably saw in the paper how last fall we bought a carload
of potatoes from Michigan, saving fifty-five cents a bushel. Our
Thanksgiving and Christmas turkeys we bought direct from farmers,
country dressed, i. e., drawn and fully dressed instead of merely
picked, thereby saving more than five cents on the pound. I could give
one instance after another, but to sum it up I would say that our aim
is to set a wholesome, attractive table for a family of six persons on
fifteen dollars a week.
“But you understand, the directors alone can not accomplish this. They
must have intelligent cooperation from each housewife in ordering the
supplies to be bought in quantities. Our League sounds the death knell
of corner-grocery-to-table buying. A cooperator must plan her purchases
well. And to help her do this our president has prepared some admirable
bulletins, two of which I happen to have with me.”
The men in particular were much impressed by the carefully arranged
suggestions on these bulletins. Then Mrs. Tyler went on:
“The educational campaign goes on the year round. We have our own
organ, the _National Cooperative Housewife_, issued monthly for members
and filled with practical food suggestions, reports of local meetings,
market reports and more market news. Just now the League is deeply
interested in bringing producer and consumer together by means of
parcel post shipments, and each of its members and directors has a
copy of the _United States Parcel Post Produce List_, issued by the
Cincinnati post-office. This gives the names of farmers, dairymen and
poultry raisers in Ohio, Indiana and Kentucky, who will ship supplies
by parcel post.
“The ultimate aim of the League is, of course, cooperative stores and
distributing stations for its members. Just now each director opens her
home as the distributing center for her group.”
“To whom are your local directors responsible?” asked Mr. Norton.
“To the executive board. Of course, each director is anxious to make a
record as a buyer. But the buying is not all. Our officers believe that
education in such problems as nutritive values, substitutes for foods
when certain supplies are scarce and costly, the proper way to prepare
supplies after they have been purchased at the lowest possible figure
is quite as important as mere price-shaving. The individual member must
grow, or she is of no value as a member. The woman who joins merely to
have a director save dollars and cents for her, soon finds herself out
of harmony with the League. And quite generally she begins a course
in self-education as a housewife, which is the biggest result an
organization can bring about.”
“But in buying such quantities,” suggested Mrs. Norton, “you must have
the old-fashioned cellar to store potatoes, apples, etc.”
“No,” answered Mrs. Tyler, “a cool dry attic does as well, with barrels
well covered for a cold snap.”
“Oh, I wish there was such a club in New York, so we could see it
actually working,” sighed Mrs. Larry.
“There is one _near_ New York--at Montclair, New Jersey,” said Mrs.
Moore.
“Suppose we women take a run over there next week and learn what our
neighbors are doing?”