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The golden age of the traveling salesman
As soon as there was commerce there was a need for salesmen. Whether you love 'em or hate 'em, they are a necessary part of the business circle.
In the early days, the usual method of transportation for salesmen was the train. These "drummers," as they were called, arrived by train with their samples and made their way to the hotel, where they might stay for a day or two to as much as a week. If their samples were bulky, ie: dresses, or pots and pans, or furniture items, they would have the samples picked up at the depot by the local drayman, who would load the items in his horse-drawn wagon and deliver them to the sample room at the hotel. Prospective customers from the area would gather to this location for a "showing' of the wares. At the Keystone Hotel this "sample room" was a series of adjoining rooms off the mezzanine that could be opened up to according to the size needed.
We came to McCook in 1957, to buy the Harvest Bakery from Ben and Dora Schuering. (Their daughter, Dorothy, now Mrs. Bill Kennedy, still looks after things at the bakery). In the time we have been here the role of salesmen has changed a great deal. For one thing, the high cost of keeping a man on the road has increased so much that there are far fewer salesmen than there were 45 years ago, and of course none of our salesmen ever traveled by rail. Today, telephone solicitations have increased greatly, there are countless more catalogues, and in the last years new technology has become an important selling tool. When our son, Matt, was remodeling the building next door to the bakery into the Bieroc Cafe he relied on the Internet, and searched nationwide, to find a specialized product to seal the soft brick surface of the walls.
In the early years the bakery supply salesmen performed a valuable service. Some of these fellows covered most of the state. They liked to talk, and though I wouldn't call them gossips, it was through them that we kept up on what our friends in bakeries throughout the state were doing. We only saw other bakers once or twice a year, at conventions, but through the salesmen we heard about them and their families and received relayed jokes and messages, and exchanged recipes. It was a good network. It was through one of the salesmen that I heard that the bakery in McCook was for sale, and got advice about the feasibility of a purchase.
Some salesmen represented a very narrow product line and these we saw only occasionally. One fellow sold only pecans. We would see him in the fall and at that time book our shipments of pecans for the whole year. Another fellow sold only baking soda and powdered ammonia. Assuming that we bought our entire supply of these two items from him, that meant that we would use perhaps 20# of baking soda a year, at 15 cents per pound. A 5# can of ammonia, at 50 cents per pound could last 5 years. He was always cordial and never tried to sell us more than we needed, and he kept calling on us. Maybe he collected bets on football games on the side. I never knew. When Joe Magrath invented a new cattle product that used lots of ammonia I was pleased that I could steer him to the Ammonia Man who perhaps could at last make a sale that was worth something, but alas, by that time he had retired. It was the same with the fellow who sold us subscriptions to the bakery trade journals. A subscription was so cheap that if he sold every baker in the state it would scarcely pay to make the drive.
Bakers have very restrictive schedules. They work odd hours of the day and night and as a rule don't have a very active social schedule. Also, as contrasted with farmers, there are not a lot of people with whom they can talk about their trade. Bakery salesmen understood our problems and could lend a sympathetic ear. For these reasons, many of the bakery salesmen became quite close friends of the bakers. Sometimes they would accompany us on deliveries, or pitch in to help with production if we were in a pinch. Very often these fellows would be included on wedding lists, or join us in a meal when they were in town. They came out for funerals of the bakers' families, and were gracious hosts at the horse races, or stage plays, as well as at various eateries in Omaha when business called for a trip to the city.
One fellow, Bob, who sold flour, was extremely talkative. He talked and talked, from the moment he hit the front door till he left. It was like having a roving reporter, with monthly updates of the business climate, weather reports, and personal opinions on almost every subject. He never ran down. It was difficult to concentrate on your work when he was around. Eileen, our head lady at the bakery, could not stand him.
Bob was always armed with a new supply of stories, which sometimes tended toward the raunchy side. He had a booming voice and it was sometimes embarrassing, as the sales girls would often pass within range of one of his stories. Embarrassing for us, not to Bob. But he was so genuinely tickled by his stories and laughed more than anyone that it was hard to be offended by him. He ignored even broad hints that he was interfering with our work. He never took our hints personally. He never seemed out of sorts, and even went out of his way to tell stories in which he was the butt of the joke. One time the told us that he was sometimes mistaken for the Diety. People would greet him with, "Oh God, Are You here again?"
Bob was boorish, certainly, but he had a big heart. He said that selling flour was what paid his salary, but "Service was His Business." He backed up that statement with practical demonstrations. For instance, once he badgered his company to research a certain piece of baker,v equipment that we were interested in buying, even though there was no direct benefit to the company. They were able to get information that would have been impossible for us to attain on our own.
One time one of the bakers in western Nebraska had a heart attack and was sent to Denver for surgery. His wife did not drive. Bob was at his home in Sioux City when he heard the news. He immediately called the fellow's wife and announced that he had business in Denver. He would be passing through her town and would be glad to have her drive to Denver with him, and added that he could also bring her home. It was a fine gesture, on his own time, at his own expense -- especially in light of the fact that he had no other reason to be in Denver, but had made up the story, lest she be reluctant to take him up on his offer.
In the last years of Bob's life he got out of the business of selling flour. He'd had a Christian conversion and had decided to take over the management of a Christian Radio station somewhere in the Black Hills. He was successful in that business, but he never forgot his baker friends, and would telephone occasionally, "just to see how things were". He was a throwback to the "Golden Age of Salesmen". No doubt the present method of selling things, through brokers, or catalogues, or the Internet is a more efficient way of doing business, but the old time salesmen certainly had their place. God Bless them. We miss them.