The Grenada sentinel. [volume] (Grenada, Miss.) 1868-1955, 1916-10-13
A MODEST WORD
FROM A PIRATE KING,
The Mail Order Tyrant Tells How
He Thrives On the Small Com.
munity and Builds His
Colossal Fortune.
am the Mail-Order King.

|
munities.
l have built up a colossal fortune
from customers whom | have never
seen.
Never have I done nor will I ever
be known to do anything for the
benefit of the communities that sup.
port me. My customers are not my
neighbors; they are personally un.
known to me. care not for their
veal or woe. have no interest in
their schools or their churches. l
pay not one 1.-THE of their taxes.
When they are sick comfort
them not, nor do l extend credit to
them then or during bad crop sea-
sons.
Good roads do not interest me
nor churches, nor schools. Nor do
any of the activities that 60 to make
life more worth living for the farm
er or the dweller in the country con-
cern me.
Cash! Great, golden streams of
cash!
This is the spirit of my dreams.
Unless they have cash my customers
need not apply.
Let them go to the merchants in
their own home town when they want
credit. That's what the country
merchant is there for-to accomo-
date his neighbors.
Me? Oh, l occupy another plane
altogether.
live in the City.
| own many automobiles, and SER
wants come at my beck and call.
support the opera and pay fancy
prices for tickets to the Charity Ball.
My name heads the list of all con-
tributions to any cause that appeals
to the newspapers. l know the value
of printers ink. l maintain a CORPS
of experts to u,a1-'- -"s Snaritles that
have IN them the elements of news
paper publicity for me.
Then l get aboard with a bundle.
And the next day the papers print
my picture on their front pages and
tell what Wonderful Man l really
am.
What's that, James? A gentle
man to see me? Have him searched
and show him in. But wait! What
does he look like? A farmer, you
say? How do you know what
farmer looks like, James? Some
times l think you almost forget your
place. Tell the farmer to go to the
No, on second thought I'll see him.
Admit the farmer!
So, you're a farmer, are you?
Well, you've got nerve, forcing
yourself into my library this way.
What's that? Your mortgage due?
Well, I'm generous; I'll take up your
mortgage if you've got good piece
of land and if the interest is right
provided you pay me good bonus.
You want credit for merchandise
during the hard times? And charity
for the sick family up the road? You
want me to contribute to your chari-
ties-yours in the country!
Absurd!
Go to your local merchant.
I'm kept busy with charities in My
Own Home Town.
But these people need help, you
say-and they have always been my
customers? Tut, tut! They have
never been my customers except
when they had cash. They have al
ways gotten credit from their own
home merchant. Now they should
60 to him for their charity. Credit
and charity, in my mind, are on a
par.
Unless, of course, there's lot of
free newspaper publicity in it.
There's no advertising in extending
credit to you or charity to your
HclSHDOTS up Vic iOou' AH> 1A6
newspapers would never even hear of
it.
I'm Swell Guy.
own home by the seashore, and
another in the mountains. And
another among the palms of the
Southland. And private yacht.
My cellars are stocked with rare
wines. Princes and potentates are
entertained in my home. My wife
and daughters lead the fashions. l
dress them in fine raiment and deck
them with. sparkling jewels.
In short, I'm Some Guy-and I'm
busy. Don't bother me with your
petty affairs.
If you want to buy goods, kick in
with the cash and my men will see
what they can do for you. But