LOVE AND ADVERTISING
BY
RICHARD WALTON TULLY
Reprinted from _The Cosmopolitan Magazine_ of April, 1906 by permission
I DO NOT demand," said Mr. Pepper, "I simply suggest a change. If youwish me to resign"--his self-deprecatory manner bespoke an impossiblesupposition--"very well. But, if you see fit to find me a newassistant----" He paused, with an interrogatory cough.
It was the senior partner who answered, "We shall consider the matter."
The advertising manager's lean face took on an expression ofsatisfaction. He bowed and disappeared through the door.
Young Kaufmann, the junior partner, smiled covertly. But the elder man'sface bespoke keen disappointment. For it must be explained that Mr.Pepper's simple announcement bore vitally upon the only dissension thathad ever visited the firm of Kaufmann & Houghton during the thirty yearsof its existence.
In 1875, when John Houghton, fresh from college, had come to New York tofind his fortune, the elder Kaufmann had been a candy manufacturer witha modest trade on the East Side. Young Houghton had taken the agency ofa glucose firm. The disposal of this product had brought the twotogether, with the result that a partnership had been formed to carryon a wholesale confectionery business. Success in this venture had ledto new and more profitable fields--the chewing-gum trade.
The rise to wealth of these two was the result of the careful ploddingof the German workman, who kept the "K. & H." products up to anunvarying standard, joined with the other's energy and acumen inmarketing the output. And this mutual relation had been disturbed by butone difference. When Houghton was disposed to consider a college man fora vacancy, Kaufmann had always been ready with his "practical man dothas vorked hiss vay." And each time, in respect to his wishes, Houghtonhad given in, reflecting that perhaps (as Kaufmann said) it had beenthat he, himself, was a good business man in spite of his collegetraining, not because of it; and, after all, college ideals had sunksince _his_ time. And the college applicant had been sent away.
Young Johann Kaufmann graduated from grammar school. Houghton suggestedhigh school and college.
"Vat? Nein!" said the elder Kaufmann. "I show him how better the gum tomake."
And he did. He put on an apron as of yore and started his son under hispersonal supervision in the washing-room. He took off his apron whenJohann knew all about handling chicle products, from importing-bag totin-foil wrapper. Then he died.
And this year troublesome conditions had come on. The ConsolidatedPepsin people were cutting in severely. Orders for the great specialtyof K. & H.--"Old Tulu"--had fallen. Something had to be done.
Houghton, now senior partner, had proposed, and young Kaufmann agreed,that an advertising expert be secured. But the agreement ended there.For the first words of the junior partner showed Houghton that thespirit of the father was still sitting at that desk opposite, andsmiling the same fat, phlegmatic smile at his supposed weakness for"dose college bitzness."
They had compromised upon Mr. Pepper, secured from Simpkins' PracticalAdvertising School. But at the end of six months, Pepper's so-called"follow-up campaign" had failed to meet materially the steady inroads ofthe western men. He had explained that it was the result of his need ofan assistant. It was determined to give him one.
Then, one night as he sat in his library, John Houghton had looked intoa pair of blue eyes and promised to "give Tom Brainard the chance." Inconsequence he had had his hair tousled, been given a resounding kissand a crushing hug from the young lady on his knees. For DorothyHoughton, despite her nineteen years, still claimed that privilege fromher father.
In that way, for the first time, a college man had come into the employof K. & H., and been made the assistant of Mr. Pepper at the salary hedemanded--"any old thing to start the ball rolling."
And now had come the information that the senior partner's long-desiredexperiment had ended in failure.
Young Kaufmann turned to his work with the air of one who has given achild its own way and seen it come to grief.
"I--I suppose," Houghton said slowly, "we'll have to let Brainard go."
And then a peculiar thing happened. Through the open window, floating inthe summer air, he seemed to see a familiar figure. It was dressed influffy white, and carried a parasol over its shoulders. It flutteredcalmly in, seated itself on the sill, and gazed at him with blue eyesthat were serious, reproachful.
"Daddy!" it said, and it brushed away a wisp of hair by its ear--just asanother one, long ago, had used to. "Daddy!" it faltered. "Why did I askyou to give him the place, if it wasn't because--because----"
The spell was broken by Kaufmann's voice. "Whatefer you do, I amsooted," he was saying. It might have been his father. "But if w'atPepper says about Brainard----"
The senior partner straightened up and pushed a button. "Yes. But Wehaven't heard what Brainard says about Pepper."
Several moments later Tom Brainard entered. Medium-sized and muscular,he was dressed in a loose-fitting suit that by its very cut told histraining. He stood between them as Mr. Pepper had done, but there wasnothing of the other's ingratiating deference in his level look.
"Sit down, Brainard," said Houghton. The newcomer did so, and the seniorpartner marked an attitude of laziness and indifference.
Houghton became stern. "Brainard," he began, "I gave you a chance withus because----" He paused.
The other colored. "I had hoped to make good without that."
"But this morning Mr. Pepper----"
"Said we couldn't get along together. That's true."
"Ah! You admit!" It was Kaufmann.
"Yes."
There was a pause. Then Houghton spoke. "I can't tell you how much thisdisappoints me, Brainard. The fact is, for years I have tried to shut myeyes to the development of college training. In my time there was notthe call for practicality that there is today. Yet it seems to me thatthe training in our colleges has grown less and less practical. Why dothe colleges turn out men who spend their time in personal gossip oversport or trivialities?"
"You remember that the King of Spain--or was it Cambodia--puzzled hiswise men for a year as to why a fish, when dropped into a full pail ofwater, didn't make it overflow."
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Because I must answer as the king did: It's not so--the pail _does_overflow. They hadn't thought to try it."
"You mean that I am wrong."
"Yes. Are you sure your gossips were 'college men'?"
"Ah!" Houghton made a gesture to his partner, who was about to speak."Then let us commence at the root of the matter. Mr. Kaufmann and I haveoften discussed the subject. In this case you are the one who has 'triedit.' Suppose you explain our mistake."
"I'd be glad to do that," said Brainard, "because I've heard a lot ofthat talk."
"Well?"
"Well--of course when I say 'college man' I mean college graduate."
"Why?"
"If a kitten crawls into an oven, is it a biscuit?"
There was an earnestness that robbed the question of any flippancy.
Houghton laughed. "No!"
"If a dub goes into college and gets flunked out in a month, is he acollege man?"
"Hardly."
"Oh, but he calls himself one. He goes to Podunk all decorated up ingeraniums and the rest of his life is a 'college man.' I'm not talkingabout him or the man who comes to college to learn to mixcocktails--inside. He may last to the junior year. I'm talking about thegraduate--they're only about a tenth of the college. But they're thefinished product. Mr. Kaufmann, you wouldn't try to sell gum that hadonly gone as far as the rolling-room, would you?"
"W'at--me?"
"Would you?"
"No." The junior partner was puzzled.
"That's because you want it to go through all the processes. Well, let'stalk only about the boy who has gone all the way through the manfactory."
Houghton nodded. "That's fair."
"The trouble is, people don't do that. Th
ey persist in butting into thecollege world, jerking out some sophomore celebration, and saying, 'Whatuse is this silly thing in the real world?'"
"Well, aren't they right?"
"No. That's just the point. The college world is a mimic world--and yourlifetime is just four years. The sophomore celebration is a practicalthing there; perhaps it's teaching loyalty--that generally comes first.That's your college rolling-room. But the graduate--he's learned to do_something_ well. I never knew a college man who wasn't at leastresponsible."
"But----"
"But here's the trouble: after selecting say two hundred fellows out ofan entering bunch of six hundred, and developing the thing each is bestfitted for, _father_ steps in and the boy who would have made afirst-class professor is put into business and blamed for beingimpractical. The fellow who has been handling thousands of dollars incollege management and running twenty assistants--the man who could havetaken the place--has no father to give him the boost necessary, and theother man's failure has queered his chances. He has to go to work as amere clerk under a man--excuse me, I don't want to do any knocking."
"You think the whole trouble is caused by misdirected nepotism."
"Yes."
"Ah----" It was young Kaufmann again. "But you said that you weretrained in advertising on your college paper."
"Yes--and I was going to tell you today, if Mr. Pepper hadn't, that themoney you're paying for me is utterly wasted."
"Ah!"
"Yes. I can't look in the face of a hungry designer and beat him down towithin a dollar of the cost of materials. And--and--my suggestions uponbroader lines don't seem to cause much hooray."
"Well--" the junior partner sat up--"since you admit----" He paused forhis partner to speak the words of discharge.
But Houghton was looking quizzically at the college man. "What was youridea as to broader lines?"
Brainard hesitated. "Well, it seemed to me that Pepper is trying to dotwo things that are antagonistic: be _'elite'_ and sell chewing-gum. Thefact is that _elite_ people don't chew gum. I'd like to know how thestatement, 'Old Tulu--Best by Test,' will make a kid on the corner witha cent in his fist have an attack of mouth-watering."
Kaufmann roused himself. "It is true. Our gum _is_ the best."
"I'm not disputing that, but still it's _gum_. If you're trying toincrease the vulgar habit of gum-chewing--well--you can't do it byadvertising the firm's financial standing, its age, or the purity of itsoutput. That would do for an insurance company or a bank--but _gum_! Whocares for purity! All they want to know is if it _schmeckt gut_." Thislast with a humorous glance at Kaufmann.
The latter was scowling. Brainard was touching a tender spot.
"Well, what would you do?"
Brainard flushed. He felt the tone of sarcasm in the elder man's voice.He tightened his lips. "At least, I'd change the name of the gum!"
"Change the name!" Kaufmann was horrified.
"Well, nobody wants 'Old Tulu.' They want 'New Tulu' or 'Fresh TastyTulu.' At least, something to appeal to the imagination ofSadie-at-the-ribbon-counter."
"Oh!" observed Houghton. "And the name you suggest?"
"Well,--say something like 'Lulu Tulu.'"
"Gott!" Kaufmann struck the desk a blow with his fist. It was an insultto his father's memory.
Brainard rose. "I'm sorry," he said, "if I have offended. To save youany further bother, I'll just cut it out after Saturday. I--thank youfor the chance"--he smiled a little ruefully--"the chance you have givenme. Good day, gentlemen."
He turned on his heel and left the office.
* * * * *
As John Houghton was driven home that night, he became suddenlyconscious that he would soon meet the apparition of the afternoon in theflesh. And though, of course, there was no need, he found himselfrehearsing the justification of his position. "Lulu Tulu" indeed!Imagine the smile that would have illumined the faces at the club onsuch an announcement. The impudence of the boy to have suggested it tohim--him who had so often held forth upon the value of conservatism inbusiness! And he remembered with pride the speaker who had once said,"It is such solid vertebrae as Mr. Houghton that form the backbone ofour business world." That speaker had been Bender, of the New YorkDynamo Company. Poor Bender! The Western Electric Construction had gothim after all.
This line of thought caused Houghton to reach in his pocket and producea letter. He went over the significant part again.
"Our Mr. Byrnes reports the clinching of the subway vending-machinecontract," it read, "and this, together with our other business, willgive us over half of the New York trade. With this statement before us,we feel that we can make a winning fight if you still refuse to considerour terms. In view of recent developments, we cannot repeat our formeroffer but if you will consider sixty-seven as a figure----"
Sixty-seven! And a year before he would not have taken one hundred andten! In the bitterness of the moment, he wondered if he, too, wouldfinally go the way that Bender had.
And then, as the butler swung the door back, he was recalled to thematter of Tom Brainard by the sight of a familiar figure that floatedtoward him as airily as had its astral self that afternoon.
He kissed her and went to his study. Just before dinner was not a timeto discuss such things. But later, as he looked across the candelabra athis daughter, all smiles and happiness in that seat that had been hermother's, he regretted that he had not, for----
"Daddy," Dorothy was saying, "I got such a funny note from Tom thisafternoon. He says there has been a change at the office and that youwill explain."
"Yes."
"Well----?" She paused eagerly. "It's something awfully good--I know."
Her father frowned and caught her eye. "Later," he said significantly.
The girl read the tone, and the gaiety of the moment before was gone.After that they ate in silence.
One cigar--two cigars had been smoked when she stole into the library.Since coffee (whether from design or chance he never knew), she hadrearranged her hair. Now it was low on her neck in a fashion of longago, with a single curl that strayed over a white shoulder to her bosom.She knelt at his side without a word.
He looked down at her. Somehow he had never seen her like thisbefore--that curious womanly expression.
"Tell me," was all she said.
And, as he told Tom Brainard's failure to fit in, he watched herclosely. "I'm sorry," he concluded.
"So am I, daddy," she returned steadily; "because I am going to marryhim."
"What?"
"Oh, you knew--you must have," she said, "when I asked you to give himthe chance."
The father was silent. In fancy he again heard Dolly Warner promising,against her parents' advice, to wait for her John to "get on in theworld."
"Well?" he asked.
"Do you think you've given him a fair chance?"
He was restored to his usual poise. "I suppose he complained that Ididn't."
Dorothy's eyes went wide. "No, he said that after I had heard the newsfrom you, he would leave everything to me."
"Oh!"
"But, father, I don't think you _have_ been fair. Tom is right. _I_don't chew gum, do I?"
"Well----" He was indignant. Then he stopped thoughtfully. "No."
"But Mary downstairs does. She wouldn't be offended at 'Lulu Tulu.' Idare say she'd think it 'just grand.'"
He returned no answer.
"Come, daddy," she went on. "New York has grown lots--even since I waslittle. And--and some people get behind the times. They think they'rebeing dignified when it's only that they're antiquated."
He looked shrewdly at her. "I never heard you talk like that before.Where did you----"
"Tom said that a week ago," she admitted. "And he said, too, that hecould double the results if he only had full swing. Instead, you admithe's a mere clerk for that horrid Pepper. Oh, daddy, daddy," shepleaded. "Give him a chance." Then her voice went low again. "I'm goingto marry him anyway," she said, "and yo
u don't want this between. If hefails, I'll stand the loss from what mother left me. Give him fullswing--a real chance, daddy! He's going to be--_your son_."
John Houghton looked into the earnest girlish face. He wound the curlabout his finger. "Kaufmann has always wanted to visit the Fatherland,"he said irrelevantly.
She gave a quick, eager look. "And that Pepper could go on a vacation."
* * * * *
Days drag very slowly at a summer resort, especially when one haspromised not to write to him. But Dorothy's father had kept his word, soshe could but do the same. Behind, in the sweltering city, in fullcharge for six weeks was Tom Brainard. His authority included permissionto invent and use any new labels or trade-marks he saw fit.
The girl at the seashore, however, was also busy--amusing her fatherthat he might not give too much time to thinking. And then, when threeof the six weeks had passed, came the accident to the motor car.
She was told that with rest and no worries, her father would recover ina week or two. She cheerfully fitted into the role of assistant to thenurse in charge, and, as soon as the doctor allowed, prepared to readhis mail to him as he lay, eyes and head bandaged. But as she opened andglanced over the accumulated letters, she suddenly went pale. She readone in particular from end to end, and then, with a scared, furtive lookat the bandaged figure, slipped it into a pocket.
Later, when her father had finished dictating to her, she answered theconcealed letter herself.
Again the days drifted. The bandages were removed; but still the girlcontinued to scan the mail. Her vigilance was rewarded. She flushed overa second letter which, with one in a worn envelope, she took to herfather.
He saw the careworn expression. "My little girl has been overworking,"he said.
She held out the worn letter. "I've had this for some time--but--but Iwaited for something more, and here it is." She showed the other.
He took the first, and when he had finished, his hand was trembling.
"I regret to report that things are in a chaos," it ran. "All of theregular advertising has been withdrawn. The usual entertainment moneyfor salesmen classed under this head has been stopped. In consequence,our city trade has tumbled fearfully--and you know how bad it wasbefore. The worst news I have to offer is in regard to Mr. Brainardpersonally. Our detective reports that his time outside is spent in mostquestionable company. He has been seen drinking at roof-gardens with acertain dissipated pugilist named Little Sullivan, and was traced withthis man to the apartment of a song-and-dance woman named Violette. Heseems to be spending money extravagantly and visits certain bohemianquarters in the vicinity of Jones Street, where he puts in his time withdisreputable-looking men. I beg leave to advise immediateaction.--Mowbray."
"My God!" groaned Houghton. This explained that derisive offer offifty-one from Consolidated Pepsin.
"And you kept this from me?"
"They said not to worry you," she said. "I--I've had enough for two.Besides, I answered it."
"You did! What----?"
"I told them to wait a little longer."
The father groaned again.
"I just _had_ to, daddy; and then today this letter came."
He seized it eagerly. It read: "You were right about waiting. Suspendall action."
"What does it mean?" she asked.
"We'll find out tomorrow," he answered grimly.
The 4:30 train gave John Houghton just time to reach the office beforeit closed. Dorothy went home. Her father, roused by the evil news of theday before, had impressed her with all that it might mean in a materialway. As though that mattered!--as though anything could hurt her more!She would have been willing to go with Tom Brainard in rags before--butnow!
She sat by the telephone with clenched fists, her traveling veil stillpushed up on her hat, the lines that had come into her face during thepast week deepening with the dusk. At last--a long, sharp ring!"Yes--father--not dine at home--meet you at the Yolland--a guest.Yes--but about Tom--what?--7:30--But about Tom, daddy? Good-by?!! But,daddy!!!"
It was no use. He had hung up. She called feverishly for the office, butthe reply was, "They do not answer." Mechanically she went up to herroom. "The blue mousseline, Susan," she said.
As the maid laid it out, she walked the floor. Through the window thepark lay green and inviting. She longed to fly to the cool grass andrun--and run----
From below came the loud, rasping notes of a street-piano that, in someincomprehensible fashion, had wandered to the deserted row of houses.The noise, for all that there was a pleasing swing to the air, irritatedher. She threw the man a quarter. "Go away," she waved.
At last the maid said her mistress was ready, and Dorothy, withoutquestioning the decision, allowed herself to be put into the brougham.
The drive seemed hours long, and then--her father's face told hernothing. Without a word, he led her to a reception-room. As theyentered, a figure sprang to meet them.
For a moment she hesitated. Then, "Tom!" she cried, and caught his hand.
He saw the whiteness of her face, and all the yearnings of theirseparation matched it upon his.
"Dorothy!" he faltered.
Her father interrupted. "Tom is to explain how he has quadrupled ourbusiness in the last week."
A sudden weakness seized her. She followed them unsteadily. Seated at atable, however, she was able to smile again. At that moment, theorchestra, striking up, suddenly caught her attention."Tum--tum-tum--tum-tum--tum"--that haunting, swinging melody of thestreet-piano.
"What tune is that?" she asked.
Brainard smiled. "_That_ is a tune that has suddenly become popular. Anynight you may see hundreds of East Side children dancing on the asphaltand singing it."
"Yes," she said. "I heard it on a street-piano."
"It's called," he went on, '"My Lulu Tulu Girl.' All the grinders haveit. Billy Tompkins, Noughty-three, who lives in the Jones Street socialsettlement, worked that for me. Those dagoes worship him--saved a kid'slife or something."
A light came into John Houghton's eyes.
"That's part of the scheme. Aspwell wrote the song. I found him down inbohemia working on an opera. But, for the sake of old days in the seniorextravaganza, he turned off 'My Lulu Tulu Girl.' You know those orderson your desk are for our new brand, 'Lulu Tulu.' The song wasintroduced two weeks ago at the Metropolitan Roof by Violette, a younglady who married our old football trainer, Little Sullivan. We'll hearher later--I have tickets. Then we'll go to Leith's; there's a turnthere by 'Jim Bailey and his Six Lulu Tulu Girls'--rather vulgar (whilethey dance they chew the gum and perform calisthenics with it) but itseems to go. Then----"
"Tom!"
"After we've dined, I'll show you our regular magazine and newspaperadvertising in the reading-room--double space. You see, I couldn't askyou to increase, so I stopped it for a time and saved up. But I hopeyou'll stand for it regularly. It's mainly pictures of Miss. Lulu Tuluin a large Florodora hat, with verses below apostrophizing the poetry ofmotion of her jaws. Then there's a line of limericks about theadventures of the 'Lulu Tulu Gummies'--small gum-headed tykes--always introuble until they find Lulu. I got Phillips to do that as a personalfavor."
"Also Noughty-something, I suppose," remarked Houghton.
"Yes. But he graduated before my time. I knew his work in the collegeannual. He's in the magazines now. Then I got Professor Wheaton--'Jimmythe Grind' we used to call him--his folks wanted him to be apoet--imagine Jimmy a poet!--I got Professor Wheaton to give us somereaders on 'Tulu as a Salivary Stimulant,' 'The Healthful Effect of PureSaliva on Food Products' and 'The Degenerative Effect of ArtificiallyRelieving an Organ of its Proper Functions.' That hits the Pepsinpeople, you see----"
And so it ran--until he had covered his plan fully, and Dorothy's facewith happy smiles.
"Tom," said the father, "if I had opened that letter instead of Dolly!"
Dorothy suddenly became demure under their gaze and sought to change thesubject. "Then
you admit, daddy, that a college man is of some use?"
"I'll admit that Tom got the business. But that was because he isnaturally clever and business-like, not because----"
"Just a moment," said Brainard. "I think I can show that you'remistaken. I found out that Pepper was doing the wrong thing--by thefirst rule of criticism (freshman English): 'What is the author tryingto do? Does he do it? Is it worth doing?' Substitute 'advertising man'for 'author' and you have a business that is worth doing (since youcontinue it)--and by the other two questions I saw his incongruity ofsubject-matter and expression.' My economics taught me the 'law ofsupply and demand.' 'Analytical research of original authorities' taughtme where the demand was. There was only the problem of a cause tostimulate it. Through deductive logic' and 'psychology' I got the causethat would appeal, and the effect worked out in an increased demandwhich we were ready to supply--just like a problem in math."
The elder man smiled. "I don't understand a word you say, but it seemsto have _worked_ well. In the future, bring in as many of your Noughtyfriends as we need. I'll answer for Kaufmann."
The other shook his head. "I'm not sure they would be any too anxious."
Houghton gasped in surprise. "What's that--they wouldn't be anxious togo into _business_! Why not?"
"Why not?" There was equal amazement in the younger man's tone. "Wouldyou be anxious to leave a place where you're surrounded by friendsyou've tried--friends that won't stab you in the back the next minuteand call it a 'business deal'--where you're respected and in control ofthings, and plunge out to become a freshman in the world-life, to do thesorting and trying all over again?"
"I remember--I remember----"
"And besides, what right has any one to assume that _business_ is aboveart, charity or even mere learning? Billy Tompkins, in the slums helpingdagoes, is a failure to his father--so is Aspwell with his opera--so isWilliams with his spectacles in his lab. But--who knows--when the GreatBusiness is finally balanced----" He stopped, conscious that he wasgrowing too rhetorical.
"If you loved college ideals so much more than business," observedHoughton, "then why did you come to us?"
A different light stole into the younger man's eyes. "Because"--heanswered, "because I loved something else better than either." And hereached his hand under the cloth to one who understood.
That is all--except that the next offer of Consolidated Pepsin was,"Will you please name your own terms?"