Music Trade Review

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THE
MUSIC TRADE! REVIEW
mendous and the most serious consequences are the outcome when
it seeks to distort the moral vision of the community by sensationally
throwing into unwarrantable prominence spectacular happenings
of little worth or of harmful nature and by forcing into obscurity
the real helpful, vitalizing things of life.
It is to be regretted that in 1908 there are still some papers in
the trade newspaper field that have not evoluted above the stand-and-
deliver methods. Cunningly worded phrases where leading music
trade concerns are held up for criticism in some sheets mean noth-
ing more than simply an open declaration of blackmail war. In
other words, they mean you pay up and we will call off the dogs of
war. Such men should be kicked out from every decent business
place, but the great trouble is all men are not strong, and when they
are attacked personally they show fear which oftentimes tapers
down to an early capitulation to the terms offered by the journalistic
blackguard.
While we may criticize daily papers for certain things which
they fail to accomplish and certain moves, yet we do- not have to
go outside of trade newspaper circles to find men whose actions
entitle them to lasting contempt of all fair minded men.
T
RADE journalism has made surprising advance because it has
a field peculiarly its own, for it is the medium between the
manufacturer and the retailer. It is the power and force that
creates demand with the retailers. It has, it is true, restricted circu-
lation, but it gets closer to the people who read and who are inter-
ested in the product advertised than any other class of publication.
The dealers do not place confidence in the abusive sheets. They
frequently never open them, and they are tossed with contempt into
the nearest waste basket. The clean trade paper, however, has a
force in every special field of human industry. Advertisers may
put forth thousands of circulars and beautiful printed matter among
those interested and produce a certain effect, but the mere fact that
this matter is sent forth by the manufacurer has a tendency to' cur-
tail its influence and importance. The music trade dealer looks to
his trade paper to learn the facts and to secure reliable information
with reference to lines of merchandise, market conditions and other
special divisions of his business.
Every trade paper editor must be honest with his readers if he
expects to win a position of respect, and trade journalism is thor-
oughly entitled to respect. The trade paper is the friend of the
business man, and it is the best booster of the salesmen, no matter
whether a man is on the road, on the floor of the wareroom or
behind the sheet music counter. The trade newspaper is looking
after him day and night. It helps the manufacturer because it
helps to introduce his wares to prospective buyers before the sales-
man gets to them. It keeps the retailer posted so that the salesman
has less trouble in finding the middle ground on which to meet him.
Of course it lauds the men who do things and it is a great force
that puts new ideas and new thoughts before the retailer in con-
densed, crystalized form. It is the cement of the business structure.
There are but few readers who realize the time, expense and effort
that it costs to produce such a trade paper publication as The
Review weekly, maintaining as we do offices in four cities and cor-
respondents at over forty points. It will be seen at a glance that this
trade paper institution requires an outlay of no mean proportions
monthly.
T
H E supply industry is perhaps one of the best indexes to trade
conditions, and a recent inspection of the big Wickham plate
plant at Springfield, Ohio, revealed a condition of activity which
was most gratifying. This institution it should be understood is
the largest producer of piano plates in the world, and when we state
that it is now running at a fair productive capacity, it shows that
pianos are again in active demand. It should also be understood
that this concern is not creating reserve stock. It is simply running
on present orders, and the fact that it is producing such a large
number o*f plates per diem shows that piano manufacturers must
have instruments in order to meet their demands.
The same condition prevails in some of the larger piano action
plants, and all this goes to show that trade is not as slow as some
are inclined to believe. It is, of coiirse, useless to say that business
is active because it isn't, but it is also unwise to deny that trade is
a great deal better, for it is and news of this character should be
most gratifying.
Misrepresenting goods is taking chances with your reputation.
Stick to a system.
It's system that counts nowadays in every line of
trade.
It's not so hard to be tactful, courteous and accommodating, and it
pays.
Lack of concentration has kept thousands of men from climbing up
the business ladder.
Keep appointments. Always be on hand at the time that you are
expected and never keep anyone waiting.
The man wtfo sits back and waits for fate to make him great will
not get very high on the business ladder.
As a drawing card in the store the pessimistic salesman is about as
attractive as a case of smallpox. Brace up.
Honesty is necessary to success, but honesty without aggressiveness
is not enough. It requires hustle coupled with it to succeed.
Do not think because the head of the business has a roll top desk
and a private office that he has a dead easy cinch, for he has not at the
present time.
"What have you got in the shape of cucumbers this morning?" asked
the customer of the new grocery clerk.
"Nothing but bananas, ma'am."
The story-telling drummer has gone out of business. Time was
when a lot of these dapper fellows would take up half a business man's
morning telling him the latest. Now they get down to business and cut
out stories. Men haven't time to bother very much with a lot of useless I
talk nowadays.
During a spring cold snap, the occupants of an uptown boarding-
house were startled one evening by a terrible noise proceeding from one
of the upper rooms. The man was yelling "Fire!" at the top of his voice.
Immediately the other boarders were all excitement and anxiously in-
quired where the fire was.
"In every house in town but this one," he replied.
Cardinal Gibbons recently told the students of the Baltimore Woman's
College an anecdote of Patrick Gilmore, the bandmaster, who was famous
for his rendition of Mozart's "Twelfth Mass." Once he played the piece
in a small North Carolina town. The next day the local paper, averse to
any undignified abbreviation, came out with the announcement that Gil-
more's band had "rendered with great effect Mozart's 'Twelfth Massachu-
setts.' "
A farmer was the father of twelve children, all of whom had been
rocked in the same cradle by the same great toe. He was rocking the
newest arrival one evening when his wife remarked:
"John, that cradle is nearly worn out; it's so rickety I'm afraid it
will fall to pieces."
"It's about used up," replied her husband. Then handing her $10, he
added: "The next time you go to town get a new one, a good one, one
that will last."
AMBIGUOUS.—A Washington correspondent who used to run a news- ,
paper in Iowa tells how the heavy advertiser of the town once entered \
the editorial offices and, with anger and disgust depicted in every line of
his face, exclaimed:
"That's a fine break you people have made in my ad. this week!"
"What's the trouble?" asked the editor, in a tone calculated to mollify j
the indignant one.
;
"Read it and see!" commanded the advertiser, thrusting a copy of the !
paper in the editor's face.
1
The latter read: "If you want to have a fit wear Blank's shoes."
A regiment of regulars was making a long, dusty march across the
rolling prairie land of Montana last summer. It was a hot, blistering
day and the men, longing for water and rest, were impatient to reach the
next town.
A rancher rode past.
"Say, friend," called out one of the men, "how far is it to the next
town?"
"Oh, a matter of two miles or so, I reckon," called back the rancher.
Another long hour dragged by, and another rancher was encountered.
"How far to the next town?" the men asked him eagerly.
"Oh, a good two miles."
A weary half-hour longer of marching, and then a third rancher.
"Hey, how far's the next town?"
"Not far," was the encouraging answer. "Only about two miles."
"Well," sighed an optimistic sergeant, "thank God, we're holding our
own, anyhow!"