I am posting this message on behalf of Ed Branch. --K.B.
~~~~~

Carol Digel's remarks take me back 65 years.  I could get no job during the
Depression until I became a door-to-door book agent for a year in the
South, Midwest, and Far West.  My product was a multi-volume school
reference work, in competition with sets like Compton's Encyclopedia,
Child-Craft, and The World Book.  In 1935 the equivalent of Carol's
"Canvasser Notes" of 1883 was drilled into my head during ten days of
rigorous training (done in Tulsa), including supervised door-to-door
visits, with a superstar who would point out my blunders and demonstrate
the right ways to win over reluctant housewives.

In 1935, and probably in 1883, the door-to-door book agent really learned
salesmanship on the job, by trial and error, usually while alone in a
strange city. First he spends a day or two finding a cheap hotel, or even a
boarding-house, where the food is good and where he can relax at night.
Then he looks up prominent citizens and school and church officials (names
supplied by the home office if possible), explains his product, and tries
to get their endorsements.  Next he "opens up the territory," i.e. becomes
acquainted with the various neighborhoods and identifies the more promising
ones for his solicitation. Only then does he begin his door-to-door
routine, always dressed in suit and tie and with his prospectus strapped to
his waist and hidden under his coat in back (I'll bet this is true of the
peddlers of LOM) so that he was carrying nothing visible to identify him as
a saleman.  He knocks on doors (he already has asked neighbors the names of
nearby homeowners, and which ones have children).  At each door, if he is
lucky and after polite explanation to the housewife, he enters and begins
his demonstration and sales pitch (a term he never used).  After skillfully
answering reasons she might have for not purchasing (his training had given
him all the answers), with intense moral concern for her children ringing
in his voice he convinces her she needs a set for the children's sake.  He
makes the sale, she selects the binding she prefers (the better the
binding, the higher the cost, and the greater his commission), and she
makes a small downpayment--sometimes, in lieu of cash, she barters with a
useful utensil.  Some have said, I hear, that houswives occasionally gave
intangible favors in place of cash--but could this been true in 1935?  He
assures her she has done the right thing, tells her when she will receive
the books, and after a long day of knocking on other doors, returns to his
room.

That night he fills out his order blanks for mailing.  And, as sometimes
was necessary, he makes evening calls on the husbands of the women who did
not have the downpayment or were afraid to place the otder without their
husband's consent.  Before going to bed dog-tired, he may fight off
loneliness by writing a letter to his girl.

Sorry--I know this is not about Mark Twain.  But the tradition that sold
IA, LOM, and HF lived on for many years while housewives were still
housewives, and  I couldn't restrain myself.

Does anyone know of a history of door-to-door subscription book selling
written from the salesman's point of view?

Ed Branch