Chapter 19

The commercial traveller who sells books has no fault to find with the people with whom he deals. By the very nature of his calling the bookseller is a man of reading and culture; now and then among them you find a man of rare culture. So genuinely friendly are the relations existing between seller and purchaser that a travelling man has the feeling that he is making a pleasure trip among friends. Such relations are no mean asset to the salesman, although they are not wholly essential. For it is to the bookseller's interest at least to examine the samples of every publisher's representative. It is not a question of laying in the winter's supply of coal, or of being content with one good old standby line of kitchen ranges. It is books that he is dealing in; an article that knows no competition and that has a brief career. Should my lady ask for Mark Twain's last book, it would be a poor bookseller who answered, "We don't sell it, but we have a large pile of Marie Corelli's latest." Or should the customer desire a copy of Henry James's recent volume, what would it profit the bookseller to inform her that he did not have it in stock, but he had something just as good?

It is because of the immense numbers of titles the bookseller must carry that the salesman always finds him a willing listener. And in the end, even though he does not buy heavily, he must order at least a few each of the salable books. Such complacency on the part of the bookseller might argue for direct dealing on the part of the publisher by means of circulars and letters, thus saving the expense of a traveller. But firms that have tried this have had a change of heart and have quickly availed themselves of the traveller's services.

He is useful in ways other than selling. If he is keen to advance his firm's interests,--and most of the book travellers are,--he will interest the bookseller's clerks in the principal books of his line. He will send them a copy of an important book, knowing that the clerk, should he become interested in the book, will personally sell many copies.

In the matter of credits, the travelling man is of considerable service to his house. He is on the spot, can size up the bookseller's trade, note if he is overstocked, particularly with unsalable books, or "plugs," as they are called, obtain the gossip of the town, and in many ways can form an estimate of the bookseller's financial condition that is more trustworthy than any the credit man in the home office can get. There were a dozen publishers' representatives who once sat in solemn conclave discussing the financial responsibility of an important customer. He was suspected of being beyond his depth, and some of the travellers had been warned not to sell him. Several personally inspected his business, obtained a report from him and his bank, and threshed out the matter as solemnly and seriously as if they were the interested publishers whom they represented. It was decided to extend further credit to the bookseller; his orders were taken and sent in with full explanations. How many orders were rejected by the publishers I do not, of course, know. But the judgment of the travellers, as events proved, was justified.

The publisher is learning to regard his travelling man as more than a salesman. He is asking him, now and then, to assist him in the selection of a manuscript, to aid him in planning the letter-press, and binding of a book. For by the very nature of his work the traveller is the one man in the publisher's employ who has a comprehensive grasp of the many branches of this alluring, but not very profitable, business.

SELLING AT WHOLESALE

By Joseph E. Bray.

In the process of manufacture a book passes through so many hands that if the finished product is exactly in accordance with the plan that existed in the mind of its designer, he is justified in looking upon it with the satisfaction felt by an artist who has worked well. After a book is issued, however, it is quite another and equally important a matter to sell it, and this part of book publication requires as much thought and perhaps more dogged persistence than the other. There are some books, such as "Ben Hur" and "David Harum," for instance, that make a market for themselves, and the demand for such successes, though starting perhaps in a rather circumscribed locality, moves onward and outward, gathering force all the time like an avalanche. These are rare exceptions, however, and for most books a market must be created. No matter how good the book, it is not enough to view the finished product with satisfaction and expect that the public will buy it in the proportion that it deserves. It has to be marketed like any other article of commerce; and a book is only on the market properly when you find its selling points known to the trade, and the volume itself temptingly displayed on the counters in the bookstores everywhere, ready to become the property of any one who may be attracted by a reviewer's description, a clever advertisement, the polite recommendation of a well-posted clerk, or any other of the many reasons that induce people to buy books. This condition of course obtains in all large cities on or soon after the day of publication of a well-managed book--but urban publicity is not sufficient. The whole country must be taken care of, and the several thousand booksellers scattered over this great land must be placed in the same relative position as their brethren in the large cities. How they are supplied with the book, posted as to its merits, and enabled to take care of whatever demands arise, is the wholesale, or "jobbing," side of book selling.

This class of booksellers relies mostly upon the wholesaler for information and supplies. Everyone knows when Winston Churchill and Mrs. Humphry Ward are writing books, and what they are about; but when a dealer in a small town gets a call for "The Sands of Time," author unknown, a book he has never heard of before, he usually transmits the order just as he has received it to his jobber, who supplies him with the book if it is on the market, or with the necessary information regarding it if he is not able to supply it. The jobber's work, broadly speaking, is twofold: To see that a book for which the demand is certain to be large and immediate is in the hands of all his customers promptly after publication, and to take care of all inquiries that arise throughout the country for lesser-known books. His establishment must be a very temple of learning, and he has to know everything in the book world, from the plot of the latest "best seller" to the relative importance of a work on the differential calculus.

Let us take his first duty. A book is to be published by a noted author, and a large sale is confidently expected. It will be widely advertised, and the press will feature it in the review columns. His first move usually is to distribute descriptive notices among his customers, telling them what he knows about it and inviting them to send in their orders. His travellers are also notified and are advised as to how the book is likely to be received by the people, and whether it is accounted better or worse than the author's previous works. The jobber has therefore to size up a book early in the game, without perhaps having seen anything relating to it except the publisher's advance notices. He has to be very careful not to "over-sell" the book, and yet at the same time he must distribute it in sufficient quantities, so that no sales may be lost through dealers not having supplies. Orders generally begin to come in quickly, and sometimes the advance sales of popular books are enormous. Then comes the question of buying a first supply. The suave, persuasive agent of the publisher waits upon the jobber and tells him what a wonderful work it is, that the demand is without a doubt going to beat all records, and he had "better hurry up and place a large order before the first edition is exhausted," and all that kind of thing. The jobber takes into consideration the facts he has been able to learn concerning the book, and places an order accordingly. Then his own travellers are supplied with dummies or advance copies, and the work of arousing an interest in the book in all sections of the country proceeds actively. Not only are all the towns canvassed thoroughly, but even the smaller villages are visited or the modest orders solicited by mail, though the stocks of the local booksellers may embrace only a few of the best sellers.

It is generally arranged so that the stock of the book of the kind to which we have alluded is delivered to the jobber on or before the day of publication, and he in turn tries to place it in the hands of his customers early, usually on or within a day or two of the date of issue. From Maine to California, and from the northern boundary to the Gulf, there is no town of importance, and no village where a bookstore exists, that has not copies of, or information concerning, the book within a short time of its coming from the press. After this is done, patience is necessary and a period of comparative inactivity ensues. The book is before the people, and it is necessary to wait for their verdict. There are many ways of "puffing" a book. Clever advertising will do much. Window displays and all the other arts resorted to by bookseller and publisher sell copies; but unless the people take to it, unless it appeals to them, unless they talk about it, and pass it along, none of these ways will do more than give a book a very temporary period of demand. The wisest publisher sometimes issues books that never reach a second edition. They awaken no responsive echo in the hearts of the people, the stamp of public approval is not put upon them, and although hailed with a flourish of trumpets and a blast of advertising, they die an early death, the author and the publisher perhaps being the only people that regret their demise.

In the case of a work that does meet with public approval, this approval is soon shown, and it is not a hard matter to care for the demand. The wholesaler aims to keep a stock on hand sufficiently large to cover all calls upon him, and does what he can to push the good thing along, through his salesmen and the circular literature which he sends out from time to time.

There are other classes of books, however, in which the wholesaler must interest himself and which cannot be treated so easily; here perhaps his service to the community and the publishing field are the greatest. Only the select few among books are big sellers; the majority do not sell largely, and only a very small percentage of the many thousands of books put forth annually make a stir in the world. A novel by an unknown author, a biography of an eminent man, a modest work of travel or adventure, technical books and those that add to the world's knowledge, cannot be given a wide distribution or an inviting display on the shelves of the trade. The smaller bookseller cannot afford to carry them. His profits are small and his investments in books of this class have to be very carefully considered. His margin of profit is too small for him to take more chances than he has to, and consequently he relies largely upon his jobber, from whom he in most cases picks up these books as he needs them. The wholesaler has to be a bureau of information concerning this part of his business. His mail brings him in all sorts of inquiries for books that have been out of print for years. Somebody wants them, can they be obtained by advertising for them or otherwise? The jobber must know this and give the information to his customer promptly. Books not yet published. When will they be issued? What will be the cost? An approximate price must be given. What are the best books on certain subjects, and how do they compare with other works in the same field? Hundreds of inquiries similar to these are constantly received. Sometimes titles are garbled and twisted all out of shape, taken down perhaps by the rural bookseller phonetically and confidently forwarded to the wholesaler, who will certainly know. The right book is usually sent, and not often is the jobber found to be at fault. Curiously enough, the majority of people are very careless in regard to titles of books, and many conundrums of this kind are daily solved by the trade.

Peculiar in many ways is the book trade, and the ordinary laws of commercialism do not always apply to the book business. The book market is fickle to the utmost degree. The books that should sell sometimes do not "move" at all, and those that apparently have but little to recommend them turn out to be the best of the bunch so far as sales are concerned. A jobber has to be something of an optimist; he must keep his ear to the ground, and, like certain types of politicians, must be prepared to give the people what they want when they want it. He can of course help along the demand for good books and check that for poor literature, and, to his credit, he usually does this, but the book-buying public is truly democratic and in the main people are pretty definite in their wants. Oftentimes they can be led, but it is rarely that they will consent to be driven.

Another important part of the jobber's business is the supplying of public libraries and similar institutions. Here his knowledge of books and the resources of his establishment are put to the severest test. Libraries use a vast quantity of books, and the demand from this source is extremely varied in character. Librarians are also very shrewd and careful buyers, and much work in the way of pricing of lists, answering inquiries, etc., is demanded. Margins of profit here are very small, but there is practically no loss in the matter of accounts, and a librarian is very satisfactory to deal with, as he usually knows what he wants. The popular novel has been pushed so much to the front of late years and advertised on such a colossal scale, that one not versed in the reading demands of the people might very well think America was reading nothing else. In the orders sent in by public libraries, however, "solid reading" is very largely represented, and, as a matter of fact, that class of literature is making just as great an increase in public demand as the lighter kind.

The wholesaler therefore is a useful member of the book world and an important factor in the distribution of books. He must combine the acumen of the business man with a taste for literature for literature's sake, have an enormous capacity for detail but be capable of grasping an opportunity, possess the wisdom of Solomon, the patience of Job, and the tact of a diplomat. He must be, in short, a business man, a scholar, and a philosopher; and even with all these accomplishments he is not likely to endanger the peace of the community by accumulating an enormous fortune.

SELLING AT RETAIL

By Warren Snyder.

It is with the finished product of author and publisher that the bookseller has chiefly to do. In the building of a book he does not come into contact with author, artist, compositor, printer, or publisher. If he be in a position to place large orders, his opinion is occasionally sought as to the advisability of bringing out a new edition of some book or books for which there seems to be a demand. A book may have reached an unusually large sale in an ordinary edition; he is asked if he thinks a finer and more expensive edition would be warrantable. He is, however, chary in most cases about expressing an opinion; and he never allows himself to become enthusiastic over any book in the presence of a publisher or a publisher's representative. For he feels that if he should display any eagerness, he would, in a measure, commit himself to placing a large order for that particular book.

With books being brought out at the rate they have been for the last five years, the bookseller finds himself with little time or inclination either to read or to think about the things to come. He has enough to occupy his attention in his efforts to display and sell the books he already has on hand. Witness the pyramids of volumes towering ceilingward--many of them books that have been there for several moons at least; and which are likely to remain there until many more moons have waxed and waned.

I often wonder if the bookseller of fifty years ago ever dreamed of what his successor would have to contend with in the way of new publications. I recall a conversation I had two or three years ago with a man more than seventy years of age. He had started out in his business life as a clerk in a bookstore and he said to me, "There are no booksellers to-day like there were when I was in the book business. Then," he continued, "a bookseller was thoroughly posted as to the contents of the books he had for sale; while now they know but little more about a book than its title." I asked him if he ever stopped to compare the conditions under which the bookseller of past days worked with those under which the bookseller of to-day had to labor. I have read that in 1855 there were but five hundred new books issued in the United States. In 1905--fifty years later--there were seventy-five hundred new books launched on the market. This did not include some six hundred reprints.

When there was an average of less than ten new books published in a week, it was an easy task for an intelligent salesperson to get a fair knowledge of the contents of every one. But when books are ground out at the rate of one hundred and fifty a week,--twenty-five a day,--the task becomes an impossible one. Yet I have frequently been asked by seemingly intelligent persons if I did not read a book before purchasing it. And when I have attempted to explain that it would be impossible for me to read all the books issued, they have not hesitated to convey, by word or gesture, their opinion of this obviously reckless way of doing business. Not long ago a man came to my office inquiring for the manager. When he was directed to me he said: "I bought a book here a few days ago, and it is imperfect. There are a number of pages missing, while some pages are repeated." Then, with a sneer, "I am surprised that a firm like this should sell imperfect books." I assured him that we had no intention of selling an imperfect book; it was an accident that sometimes happened. The wonder to me was that it did not happen oftener. I was sorry if he had been put to any inconvenience; we would cheerfully give him another copy. We could return the imperfect copy to the publishers who would make it right with us.

"But don't you examine the books you buy to see if the pages are all there?"

I told him how impossible that would be. Why, we often added as many as fifty thousand volumes to our stock in a single week. He left me, I am sure, convinced that we were careless in our mode of doing business.

Once I was called from my office to meet a lady who also had a grievance. She accosted me with the air of one who had been basely swindled. "I bought a book here yesterday," she said, "one you advertised as cheap. I wish to return it and get my money back. My husband says it is no wonder that you can sell books so cheap; this one is not half finished. Look at the rough edges; the leaves are not even cut."

Of course I had the price of the book returned to her at once. Then I proceeded to show her some of the expensive and finely bound volumes with rough edges. I explained how the value of many of these books would be lessened if the leaves were trimmed. I tried to give her the point of view of the book collector. She was incredulous. I think, however, that she went away a wiser, if not a happier woman; and she has probably blushed many times since when recalling the incident.

The buyer of books for a large store does not go out to look for new publications. He remains in his office, and the publisher sends a representative to see him in regard to each new book issued. In New York City he is called upon on an average of once a week by some one from each publishing house. At certain seasons of the year these "commercial travellers," as they prefer to be titled, seem to drift in ten or a dozen at a time. They will often be found waiting in line outside the buyer's office, each taking his turn. Each will have from two to ten new books, all to be ready within the next two weeks.

I have said that the bookseller of to-day has but little time to read about the volumes that are forthcoming. Therefore, most of the new books are first brought to his attention by the salesmen who come to solicit orders. Every book must be given some consideration; and in most cases some quantity of it must be ordered. It may be five copies or it may be five thousand. To the inexperienced it is difficult to explain the precise considerations that govern the amount of the order. Here is where the strain comes on the buyer; for the responsibility lies with him. Yet he must decide without having read a single page; and he must decide quickly--in a few minutes. Many times he places an order without having seen the completed book at all. Some pages of the text, a half-dozen illustrations, and the outside cover are perhaps presented to him. Even the fact that the publisher has had the manuscript read by three or four experts before deciding to publish, does not always help him. There are many miscalculations on the part of both buyer and publisher.

But, you insist, how does a buyer form a judgment of the number of copies to buy if he does not read the book? There are many things to guide him. There is the popularity of the author to be considered; the subject of the book; the mechanical features; the price; and the publisher's name and standing. If it is an author's first book the risk is great. If both the author and publisher are new the risk is still greater. For the amount of advertising that such a publisher is likely to do is an unknown quantity. The buyer can estimate pretty closely on the advertising probabilities of well-established firms; he knows what they are accustomed to do in that line.

In the reminiscences of a bookseller who began business more than seventy years ago, there is a letter from his mother written in 1844, from which the following is an excerpt:--

"I will ask you once more to consider my plea regarding the policy and character of some portion of your business. The selecting of books for a reading community is a peculiar responsibility; and if the matter therein contained be good in its wholesale and retail consequences it will rise up for you, if bad, against you, even here in this partly Christianized America."

But the bookman no longer has the opportunity of selecting for a community. The conditions are changed. In these days of extended advertising in newspapers and magazines, the reading public learns all about the new books before going near a bookstore. The demand is created outside the shop; the dealer must be prepared to supply it.

Customers tell him not only what to keep on sale, but what not to keep on sale. The writer of the present article has been admonished not to have in stock the writings of many of the great authors--Darwin, Huxley, Tyndall, Herbert Spencer, Miss Braddon, George Eliot, Mrs. Humphry Ward, Balzac, Byron, and many others. A letter received about fifteen years ago read something like this:--

"I was much surprised yesterday, while passing through your bookstore, to find a number of immoral books there for sale. I copied down the names of a few of them--'An Earnest Trifler' and 'A Desperate Chance.'"