6. Music Lessons

In May of that year, 1889, there occurred one of the greatest disasters ever experienced in America, the Johnstown Flood. A dam in the Conemaugh River, a few miles above the deep valley in which this Pennsylvania city is located, having been weakened by the excessive pressure of heavy rainfall, suddenly gave way. The swollen river plowed through Johnstown, carrying houses, bridges, streetcars, railroad trains, everything! Two thousand people lost their lives. Twenty times that many lost their homes. The whole nation was deeply stirred. For a couple of weeks the newspapers talked of nothing else.

An enterprising publisher announced a new book, containing the complete account of the catastrophe, with interviews, comments by notables, photographs, artists’ sketches, etc. Agents for the book were wanted at once.

As school was just closing and I had nothing important to do, Mama suggested that I might try my luck as a book agent. She sent at once for a “prospectus,” and I launched upon my new job.

I never considered myself much of a success as a salesman. In the years to follow, I had a go at it, a couple of times, without distinction. It takes more brass than I have to get into a stranger’s home and try to sell him something he does not want. But the book about the Johnstown Flood sold itself. Here was something that gripped everybody’s interest. Nor did this twelve-vear-old lad have trouble about graining entrance to the houses of his potential customers.

The lady who opened the door considered me harmless, or at least gave me the benefit of the doubt, and when I told her what I was up to, she invited me in. I showed her the horrible pictures and she was fascinated. And when I told her that this was only the “prospectus” and that the big, fat book contained a great deal more of the same, she wanted it.

The book cost only $1.50. It was my custom to tell the purchaser who I was, so she would have reasons for trusting me. I would tell her also that it would be a great convenience if she paid half of the price now; for I would have to send cash in full to get the books. They usually consented.

When I tried to sell books later, while a college student, I wished I could make the same arrangements about a down payment; for, many times, the lady refused to accept the book on delivery.

I netted $75 in my canvassing for the Johnstown Flood book, and §75, in 1889, was quite a lot of money. It was decided by me, this time, but with the full approval of my parents, that it should be spent on music lessons.

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