Music Trade Review

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THE MUSIC TRADE REVIEW
—the peaceful harbor—the sunlit glen—
the one haven of rest where the manufac-
turer, the dealer, the salesman, the office
man will all be taken care of. They can eat
lotos leaves all day, and sing hosannas of
praise all night. Such an entrancing pic-
ture is just too delightful for anything.
Cakes and ale, and ale and cakes.
A perfect piano man's heaven, and the
trust will save all and insure that peace
which is most desired, and that happiness
which was not considered until recently a
part of earth.
A nice little plan and how convenient
for selfish reasons? How opportune the
department store octopus?
One would deduce from his estimate
placed upon them that piano men were a
lot of cackling hens or frightened sheep to
be driven at the will of the man who now
seeks, as of yore, to dominate them.
A trust as a means to preserve the trade
against the (awful?) encroachments of the
department stores.
A trust, is it?
Better a cinch!
That is, if the scheme works, for it means
that the man who would betray the trade
will have first exacted his pound of trade
flesh. For, Shylock that he is, his part is
always assured; his price must be paid.
Now, piano men may understand clearer
the anxiety of the Judas who would betray
those who have supported him for years.
If there really was the least sign visible
upon the trade horizon which portended
trade disintegration, he would be the first
man to flee, for he is a moral as well as a
physical coward.
Trade disintegration, when this industry
in spite of the war has produced in one
year nearly one hundred thousand pianos
as a single item!
A record which has been marvelously
surprising.
What!—with the curtains parted, looking
outward upon a scene more dazzling than the
early founders of the industry ever deemed
the music trade capable of producing,
shall we turn aside for a narrowed future?
Shall the trade be betrayed by a Judas
kiss?
When America sweeps grandly forward
to world-wide industrial conquest, shall
this industry be even temporarily checked
in its expansion by the vile machinations
of a man whose whole career has been one
of selfish intrigue?
The trade needs salvation, does it?
Well, if it does, the salvation that it most
needs is complete isolation from contact
with the man who has tried to thwart its
growth, dwarf its energies, dry up its
founts of inspiration. Freedom from the
contaminating influence of the man whose
very person exudes a noxious poison com-
pared to which that of the Upas tree is ex-
hilarating elixir.
Disintegration, is it, with a brilliant vista
for our industry unfolding before us ?
The new era means the the disintegration
of the powers of the trade Judas who long
has cast his tentacles around the industry.
It means a brighter dawn for the reput-
able manufacturer.
It means that the retailing of pianos will
be done in conformity with those laws
which are operative in all other trades.
It means a broader and more remunera-
tive field for the ambitious, loyal salesman.
It means an advance for upright jour-
nalism, for no honest journalist will have
occasion to defend his profession from the
insult placed upon it by the blackmailer.
And no one realizes the truth of this
more than the blackmailer himself.
With his vocation gone, his journal power-
less, why should he not try for one more
grand swoop before the finale occurs?
Frighten the trade into a trust scheme
through fear of department store compe-
tition ! It would be funny were there not an
element of seriousness generated by reason
of the wily machination of the broken
blackmailer. That element of seriousness
obliterates the otherwise comic opera
effect.
The men who have listened to the oily
arguments of the trade disintegrator should
understand that with him now it is rule or
ruin.
For trade benefit!—the man who more
than all else has spattered the trade struc-
ture with deceit and deviltry !
Point to one honorable act, one unselfish
deed of the Judas, and we will be first to
acknowledge it.
No wonder he is alarmed at the future
of trade journalism—that is, his type of
journalism, God save the mark.
The honest journalist has no fear for the
future, he knows, or at least believes, that
blackmailing competition is something
which he nevermore will have to encoun-
ter, and the wonder grows how men have
endured it so long.
Was it individual rottenness?
Well, the disinfectant has been applied.
The atmosphere has been clarified—the
future is bright with the promise of better
things. Let us open the page for the new
year with hearts buoyant with hope.
" Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow.
#
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" Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust for gold,
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace ["
THOUGHTS AT RANDOM.
T H E holiday trade for 1898 is now a
thing of the past and it may be as-
serted with safety that the trade for the
past two or three weeks has in many ways
broken former records.
Piano merchants, in common with
others, have come in for a fair share of the
trade.
"Like old times" remark many of those
who have enjoyed deep draughts from the
cup of patronage.
On the whole the retailers of New York
have much to feel thankful for in the
patronage which has been given them
during the holidays. Eighteen hundred
and ninety-eight, the most remarkable
year in many respects that we have yet
seen, is now practically of the past and
when The Review next appears we shall
have formed an acquaintance with the year
which promises in many ways to eclipse
the remarkable record of its predecessor.
The time is here for the annual stock-
taking—the arranging of new plans—the
balancing of accounts—the January talks,
—the clearance sales—the changes in of-
fice, road and wareroom staff—the trust
phantom—the department store illusion.
These and a hundred more topics quite as
fruitful will now be in order for a time.
I T is with infinite satisfaction that we re-
cord the year now so near its close as
the banner year in Review history, which
covers a period of nearly twenty years.
It is gratifying, too, in that it proves
that our policy is in the end a winning
one.
The field of a trade paper is limited, its
circulation is confined to a class, its profits
like all restricted enterprises are small, yet
it is capable of doing much good and con-
siderable harm.
The Review has never been fawning or
sycophantic.
It has been run upon business lines.
It has fought for trade advancement and
trade honor.
It has fought the blackmailer and ren-
dered his blow harmless.
There is not a blot of dishonor upon The
Review escutcheon.
It has been a forceful, consistent publi-
cation.
And so it will continue, for we enter
ranks for the '99 contest in better fighting
trim than ever.
DIANO manufacturers are seeking to in-
terest the consumer more than ever.
For this they are moving tradeward.
They realize that, while the dealer is a most
important factor, an impelling demand.