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THE
MUSIC TRADE
leaders is fleeting compared with those who have given something
to the world in the way of music and art treasures. The names of
the great composers will last for centuries while the names of the
modern industrial princes and leaders of high finance die with them.
Where the classic marble structure of the Knickerbocker Trust
Co. stands at the corner of 34th street and Fifth avenue, A. T.
Stewart, the merchant prince of New York, once reared his beauti-
ful marble palace. Stewart was not a promoter. He was the best
merchant of his time and an honest one. He built up a great busi-
ness ; he built his superb palace, filled it with pictures and then died.
His corpse was stolen, and after awhile the beautiful palace was
rented to a club. Then the club mefved away and the marble palace
was torn down. On the site was reared the structure of the Knicker-
bocker Trust Co. One great extravagance made room for another
building which was the headquarters of high finance. The name
of Stewart has practically vanished. John Wanamaker occasionally
revives it by placing it in an obscure corner o'f his advertisements.
Barney, who was president of the Knickerbocker Trust Co., owner
of the superb structure, killed himself.
OMPARE the reputation of our modern industrial and financial
leaders wjth the reputation of the men whose musical compo-
sitions will be heard for ages; with the men whose poetry will live
as long as the English language endures; with men like Peter
Cooper, who built a special building devoted to the education of
young men and women. His name will live after the glories of
millionaires, who planned selfishly, will be entirely forgotten. The
name of Carnegie will be perpetuated through his libraries. This
is, however, but one instance. How many men of our generation
will live in history respected and honored? The man whose acts
contribute only to his own selfishness and vanity fails miserably,
but the man who does something for the world his name is forever
gratefully remembered. Still most of us will go on struggling, cold
and selfish, to the end of the chapter, trying to heap up a few more
dollars, gather in a few more pictures, build some houses containing
a few more ro'oms, a record-breaking structure for height like the
one in which the Review offices are located, own another yacht or
two, and have some more automobiles. Such is life—modern life
at least.
C
W
E are over-fond of talk and over-fond of pretending to
do things we actually fall short of ever accomplishing.
Take Mr. Bryan for illustration—a man of splendid oratorical
powers, who has talked dollars into his pocket for a number of years,
and yet what has he done? He pretends to be a believer in the
Jeffersonian doctrine, and yet Jefferson impoverished himself serv-
ing his country. Then, after his work, as President, was done, he
did not become inoculated with the money germ. He devoted his
energies to education and built up the University of Virginia, a task
which interested him far more than the building up of a fortune
could possibly have done. He was proud of his memorial in this
great university.
We all, perhaps, are influenced by our environment which is
money grabbing and money getting, and in the meanwhile we are
losing' sight of the best that's in us. We are not developing the
finer instincts, and through the pursuit of money we have grown
suspicious of each other. And, peculiar, is it not, that through the
constant hammering of the publicists of our time at the successful
rich, we have developed an extremely suspicious feeling which is
un-American, for we, as a people, are confiding and trustful, and now
we regard each other with distrust, and as a result credit is impaired.
As a final sequel, business has been seriously affected. It would be
funny if in this country the end of it all should be a turn about to
such an extreme that people would actually respect men o'f high
ideas instead of humbling ourselves to the men possessing great
wealth. In China men of learning are looked up to. In that alleged
heathen country superior education or literary talent occupies a
higher position than mere wealth.
One thing is certain, it will be necessary to restore confidence
if business is to regain its former elasticity and ease of movement.
When confidence is lacking either in the individual, the corpora-
tion, or the Nation, development halts, and all of us should be
impressed with the necessity of helping to restore business confi-
dence. Are we all contributing as we should to this end? No
honey is ever stored in the hive by the bee who doesn't get busy
among the flowers. Hustle should be the watchword.
REVIEW
No great success in any line can be achieved through deceit.
Enthusiasm adds weight to a piano sale argument which no other
quality can give.
The man who sits down and sighs over dull trade will not win big
results this season.
Failure in business is often synonymous with lack of confidence
in one's own ability.
A sure way to lose a sale is to say something which will tend to
lower you in the prospect's regard.
If you study what your competitor is doing, do not copy him, but
try and improve on his methods if you can.
Yes, there is a difference between trade newspapers—a difference
which even a casual observer can see without studying very hard.
SUBURBIA.—Boarder—Do you subscribe for the village newspaper?
Inhabitant—No. The village dressmaker boards tew our house.—Life.
When a man tells you that he is doing an enormous trade in these
times you naturally figure that he is not quite up to the George Wash-
ington standard of truth telling.
DESCRIPTIVE.—Operator—What do you think of the new foreman,
Jimmie?
DeviT—Say, dat feller could print all he knows in display type en a
postage stamp without canceling the stamp.—Monotypit,
MARKED DOWN.—Mr. Harddrive—It's my opinion that the influ-
ence of bargain-sales is immoral, if not positively irreligious.
Mrs. Harddrive—Why, dear, even the Bible speaks approvingly of the
ninety and nine!—Puck.
It looks very much as if we would have the hold-up trade news-
paper always with us, and still some people laugh at the hits made on
others, never thinking that it may be their turn next. Most men, how-
ever, say it matters not whether the blackguardly newspapers damn or
praise, either is ineffective.
NO REASON FOR ALARM.—A Kansas editor is guilty of the fol-
lowing: A couple were recently married. The ceremony over, the wife
began to weep copiously. "What's the matter?" asked the new husband.
"I never told you that I didn't know how to cook," sobbed the bride.
"Don't fret," said he, "I'll not have anything to cook; I'm an editor."
AN OLD COMPLAINT.—A subscriber to a provincial weekly sent
this query recently: "What ails my hens? Every morning I find one or
more of them keeled over to rise no more."
The astute editor's reply was:
"The fowls are dead—it is an old complaint, and nothing can be
done'except to bury them."
THE RYLEY-MURPHY TETE-A-TETE.—Mr Ryley—Why are yez
decoratin', Mrs. Murphy?
Mrs. Murphy—Me b'y Denny is comin' home the day.
Mr. Ryley—I fought it wuz for foive years he wuz sint up?
Mrs. Murphy—He wuz; but he got a year off for good behayvure.
Mr. Ryley—An' sure, it must be a great comfort for ye to have a
good b'y like that.
AT LAST.—The publisher advertised for a circulator; one that could
give the advertiser returns.
An applicant stood before him.
"What are your qualifications, sir?"
"For seven years, when a young man, I published a paper known as
'The Lyre.' Then I had several kinds of luck, but for the past seventeen
years I have been a weather forecaster in the employ of the gov
"
But the editor, waiting to hear no more, fell upon his neck weeping:
"My boy! My boy!"
And he named his own salary.—Western Publisher.
MIXED METAPHORS.—Edwin Markham, at a dinner, said of mixed
metaphors: "When I was teaching in Los Angeles I used to read every
week a little country paper whose editor's metaphors were an unfailing
joy to me. Once, I remember, this editor wrote of a contemporary: 'Thus,
the black lie, issuing from his base throat, becomes a boomerang in his
hand, and, hoisting him by his own petard, leaves him a marked man for
life.' He said in an article on home life: 'The faithful watchdog or his
good wife, standing at the door, welcomes the master home with an honest
bark.' In an obituary of a farmer he wrote: 'The race was run at last.
Like a tired steed, he crossed the harbor bar, and, casting aside whip and
spur, lay down upon that bourne from which no traveler returns.'"—
Home Magazine.