Burned Bridges by Bertrand W. Sinclair (bearly read books txt) 📕

Preoccupation With Goethe's "Italian Journey," His

Intercourse With The Artists,  And The Vast Number Of His Impressions Of

Sublime Art Would Have Turned Him Aside From Science. But One Day He

Chanced To Meet Mrs. Von Thorn And Her Daughter Angele. He Became

Engaged,  And There Was No Question Now Of A Change Of Profession. Angele

Was Beautiful,  And Those Days,  When He Read Aloud To Her Chapters From

Goethe,  Or Inspired And Inspiring Passages From Winckelmann,  Or Recited

Hoelderlin,  Or Held Forth To Her On The Masterworks In The Vatican,  Were

Full Of Never-To-Be-Repeated Romantic Asininity. They Bought Engagement

Rings Of A Jeweller On The Corso. Where Was His Ring? He Had Removed It

From His Finger,  And,  Like All His Other Possessions,  It Had Gone Down

Forever In The Cabin Of The _Roland_.

 

Frederick Again Felt That Sensation Of Hot Waves Rising From His Breast

To His Eyes. This Time The Emotion Was A Soft One,  A Feeling Of

Reconciliation,  Of Mourning Over Lost Illusions. The Second Epoch Of His

Life,  If A Second Epoch Were Really To Develop From This Beginning,  Was

Not Like The First,  Full Of Innocence And Based Upon Illusions. Frederick

Was Sorry For Himself. He Was Moved Almost To Tears. For It Is Aup Van Ness.

 

The Corner Of Van Ness And Potter Revealed A Six-Story Concrete

Building,  Its Plate-Glass Frontage Upon The Sidewalk Displaying Three Or

Four Beautifully Finished Automobiles Upon A Polished Oak Floor. The

Sign Across The Front Bore The Heraldry Of The Card. He Walked In,

Accosted The First Man He Saw,  And Was Waved To A Flight Of Stairs

Reaching A Mezzanine Floor. Gaining That He Discovered In A Short

Corridor A Door Bearing Upon Its Name-Plate The Legend:

 

Mr. John P. Henderson.

 

Private.

 

Thompson Looked At His Watch. It Lacked But Two Minutes Of Ten. He

Knocked,  And A Voice Bade Him Enter. He Found Himself Face To Face With

The Master Of The Gray Car. Mr. John P. Henderson Looked More Imposing

Behind A Mahogany Desk Than He Did On The Street. He Had A Heavy Jaw And

A Forehead-Crinkling Way Of Looking At A Man. And--Although Thompson

Knew Nothing Of The Fact And At The Moment Would Not Have Cared A

Whoop--John P. Was Just About The Biggest Toad In San Francisco's

Automobile Puddle. He Had Started In Business On Little But His Nerve

And Made Himself A Fortune. It Was Being Whispered Along The Row That

John P. Was Organizing To Manufacture Cars As Well As Sell Them--And

That Was A Long Look Ahead For The Pacific Coast.

 

He Nodded To Thompson,  Bade Him Be Seated. And Thompson Sank Into A

Chair,  Facing John P. Across The Desk. He Wanted Nothing,  Expected

Nothing. He Was Simply Smitten With A Human Curiosity To Know What This

Stout,  Successful Man Of Affairs Had To Propose To Him.

 

Chapter 13 ( Mr. Henderson's Proposition) Pg 103

"My Name Is Thompson," He Stated Cheerfully. "It Is Ten O'clock. I Have

Called--As You Suggested."

 

Henderson Smiled.

 

"I Have Been Accused Of Hastiness In My Judgment Of Men,  But It Is

Admitted That I Seldom Make Mistakes," He Said Complacently. "In This

Organization There Is Always A Place For Able,  Aggressive Young Men.

Some Men Have Ability Without Any Force. Some Men Are Aggressive With No

Ability Whatever. How About You? Think You Could Sell Motor-Cars?"

 

"How The Deuce Do I Know?" Thompson Replied Frankly. "I Have Never

Tried. I'm Handicapped To Begin. I Know Nothing About Either Cars Or

Salesmanship."

 

"Would You Like To Try?"

 

Thompson Considered A Minute.

 

"Yes," He Declared. "I've Tried Several Things. I'm Willing To Try

Anything Once. Only I Do Not See How I Can Qualify."

 

"We'll See About That," John P.'S Eyes Kept Boring Into Him. "D'ye Mind

A Personal Question Or Two?"

 

Thompson Shook His Head.

 

He Did Not Quite Know How It Came About,  But He Passed Under Henderson's

Deft Touch From Reply To Narration,  And Within Twenty Minutes Had

Sketched Briefly His Whole Career.

 

Henderson Sat Tapping The Blotter On His Desk With A Pencil For A Silent

Minute.

 

"You Have Nothing To Unlearn," He Announced Abruptly. "All Big

Commercial Organizations Must To A Certain Extent Train Their Own Men. A

Man Who Appears To Possess Fundamental Qualifications Is Worth His

Training. I Have Done It Repeatedly. I Am Going To Proceed On The

Assumption That You Will Become A Useful Member Of My Staff,  Ultimately

With Much Profit To Yourself. I Propose That You Apply Yourself

Diligently To Mastering The Sale Of Motor Cars To Individual Purchasers.

I Shall Pay You Twenty-Five Dollars A Week To Begin. That's A Mechanic's

Wages. If You Make Good On Sales--There's No Limit To Your Earning

Power."

 

"But,  Look Here," Thompson Made Honest Objection. "I Appreciate The

Opportunity. At The Same Time I Wonder If You Realize What A Lot I Have

To Learn. I Don't Know A Thing About Cars Beyond How To Change A Tire

And Fill Grease Cups. I've Never Driven,  Never Even Started A Motor.

How Can I Sell Cars Unless I Know Cars?"

 

"You Overestimate Your Handicap," John P. Smiled. "Knowing How To Build

And Repair Cars And Knowing How To Sell Cars Are Two Entirely Different

Propositions. The First Requires A High Degree Of Technical Knowledge

And A Lot Of Practical Experience. Selling Is A Matter Of

Personality--Of The Power To Convince. You Can Learn To Drive In Two Or

Three Days. In A Month You Will Handle A Machine As Well As The Other

Fellow,  And You Will Learn Enough About The Principal Parts And Their

Chapter 13 ( Mr. Henderson's Proposition) Pg 104

Functions--Not Only Of Our Line,  But Of Other Standard Machines--To

Enable You To Discuss And Compare Them Intelligently. The Rest Will

Depend Upon A Quality Within Yourself That Has Nothing To Do With The

Mechanical End."

 

"You Should Know." Thompson Could Not Help A Shade Of Doubt In His Tone.

"But I Must Say I Could Approach A Man With A Proposition To Sell Him An

Article With More Confidence If I Knew That Article Inside And Out,  Top

And Bottom. If I Really Knew A Thing Was Good,  And _Why_,  I Could Sell

It,  I Believe."

 

"He Has The Right Hunch,  Dad."

 

Thompson Had Not Heard Young Henderson Come In. He Saw Him Now A Step

Behind His Chair,  Garbed In Overalls That Bore Every Sign Of Intimate

Contact With Machinery.

 

He Nodded To Thompson And Continued To Address His Father.

 

"It's True. Take Two Men Of Equal Selling Force. On The Year's Business

The One Who Can Drive Mechanical Superiority Home Because He Knows

Wherein It Lies Will Show The Biggest Sales,  And The Most Satisfied

Customers. I Believe Six Months' Shop Work Would Just About Double The

Efficiency Of Half Our Sales Staff."

 

John P. Gazed Good-Naturedly At His Son.

 

"I Know,  Fred," He Drawled. "I've Heard Those Sentiments Before. There's

Some Truth In It,  Of Course. But Simons And Sam Eppel And Monk White Are

Products Of _My_ Method. You Cannot Deny Their Efficiency In Sales.

What's The Idea,  Anyway?"

 

Young Henderson Grinned.

 

"The Fact Is," He Said,  "Since I Listened In On This Conversation I Have

Come To The Conclusion That You've Good Material Here. I Need A Helper.

He'll Get A Thorough Grounding. Whenever You And He Decide That He Has

Absorbed Sufficient Mechanics He Can Join The Sales End. I'd Like To

Train One Man For You,  Properly."

 

"Well," John P. Remarked Judicially,  "I Can't Waste The Whole Morning

Discussing Methods Of Training Salesmen In The Way They Should Go. I've

Made Mr. Thompson A Proposition. What Do You Say?"

 

He Turned Abruptly On Thompson.

 

"Or," Young Henderson Cut In. "You Have The Counter Proposition Of An

Indefinite Mechanical Grind In My Department--Which Is Largely

Experimental. If You Take To It At All I Guarantee That In Six Months

You Will Know More About The Internal Combustion Motor And Automobile

Design In General Than Any Two Salesmen On My Father's Staff. And That,"

He Added,  With A Boyish Grimace At His Father,  "Is Saying A Lot."

 

It Seemed To Thompson That Both Men Regarded Him With A Considerable

Expectancy. It Perplexed Him,  That Embarrassment Of Opportunity. He Was

A Little Dazed At The Double Chance. Here Was Opportunity Clutching Him

By The Coat Collar. He Had Nothing But Impulse,  And Perhaps A Natural

Craving For Positive Knowledge,  To Guide His Choice. He Wasted Few

Chapter 13 ( Mr. Henderson's Proposition) Pg 105

Seconds,  However,  In Deciding. Among Other Things,  He Had Outgrown

Vacillation.

 

"It Is Just As I Said," He Addressed Henderson Senior. "I'd Feel More

Competent To Sell Cars If I Knew Them. I'd Rather Start In The Shop."

 

"All Right," Henderson Grunted. "You're The Doctor. Be Giving Fred A

Chance To Prove One Of His Theories. Personally I Believe You'd Make A

Go Of Selling Right Off The Bat,  And A Good Salesman Is Wasted In The

Mechanical Line. When You Feel That You've Saturated Your System With

Valve Clearances And Compression Formulas And Gear Ratios And All The

Rest Of The Shop Dope,  Come And See Me. I'll Give You A Try-Out On The

Selling End. For The Present,  Report To Fred."

 

He Reached For Some Papers On The Desk. His Manner,  No Less Than His

Words,  Ended The Interview. Thompson Rose.

 

"When Can You Start In?" Young Henderson Inquired.

 

"Any Time," Thompson Responded Quickly. He Was,  In Truth,  A Trifle Eager

To See What Made The Wheels Go Round In That Establishment. "I Only Have

To Change My Clothes."

 

"Come After Lunch Then," Young Henderson Suggested. "Take The Elevator

To The Top Floor. Ask One Of The Men Where You'll Find Me. Bring Your

Overalls With You. We Have A Dressing Room And Lockers On Each Floor."

 

He Nodded Good-By And Turned To His Father. Thompson Made His Exit.

 

Half A Block Away He Turned To Look Back At The House Of Henderson. It

Was Massive,  Imposing,  The Visible Sign Of A Prosperous Concern,  The

Manifestation Of Business On A Big Scale. Groya Motors,  Inc. It Was

Lettered In Neat Gilt Across The Front. It Stood Forth In Four-Foot

Skeleton Characters Atop Of The Flat Roof--An Electric Sign To Burn Like

A Beacon By Night. And He Was About To Become A Part Of That

Establishment,  A Humble Beginner,  True,  But A Beginner With Uncommon

Prospects. He Wondered If Henderson Senior Was Right,  If There Resided

In Him That Elusive Essence Which Leads Some Men To Success In Dealings

With Other Men. He Was Not Sure About It Himself. Still,  The Matter Was

Untried. Henderson Might Be Right.

 

But It Was All A