Purdy.
V
Conrad Lyte was a real-estate speculator. He was a
nervous speculator. Before he gambled he consulted bankers,
lawyers, architects, contracting builders, and all of their clerks
and stenographers who were willing to be cornered and give him
advice. He was a bold entrepreneur, and he desired nothing more
than complete safety in his investments, freedom from attention to
details, and the thirty or forty per cent. profit which, according
to all authorities, a pioneer deserves for his risks and foresight.
He was a stubby man with a cap-like mass of short gray curls and
clothes which, no matter how well cut, seemed shaggy. Below his
eyes were semicircular hollows, as though silver dollars had been
pressed against them and had left an imprint.
Particularly and always Lyte consulted Babbitt, and
trusted in his slow cautiousness.
Six months ago Babbitt had learned that one
Archibald Purdy, a grocer in the indecisive residential district
known as Linton, was talking of opening a butcher shop beside his
grocery. Looking up the ownership of adjoining parcels of land,
Babbitt found that Purdy owned his present shop but did not own the
one available lot adjoining. He advised Conrad Lyte to purchase
this lot, for eleven thousand dollars, though an appraisal on a
basis of rents did not indicate its value as above nine thousand.
The rents, declared Babbitt, were too low; and by waiting they
could make Purdy come to their price. (This was Vision.) He had to
bully Lyte into buying. His first act as agent for Lyte was to
increase the rent of the battered store-building on the lot. The
tenant said a number of rude things, but he paid.
Now, Purdy seemed ready to buy, and his delay was
going to cost him ten thousand extra dollars - the reward paid by
the community to Mr. Conrad Lyte for the virtue of employing a
broker who had Vision and who understood Talking Points, Strategic
Values, Key Situations, Underappraisals, and the Psychology of
Salesmanship.
Lyte came to the conference exultantly. He was fond
of Babbitt, this morning, and called him "old hoss." Purdy, the
grocer. a long-nosed man and solemn, seemed to care less for
Babbitt and for Vision, but Babbitt met him at the street door of
the office and guided him toward the private room with affectionate
little cries of "This way, Brother Purdy!" He took from the
correspondence-file the entire box of cigars and forced them on his
guests. He pushed their chairs two inches forward and three inches
back, which gave an hospitable note, then leaned back in his
desk-chair and looked plump and jolly. But he spoke to the weakling
grocer with firmness.
"Well, Brother Purdy, we been having some pretty
tempting offers from butchers and a slew of other folks for that
lot next to your store, but I persuaded Brother Lyte that we ought
to give you a shot at the property first. I said to Lyte, 'It'd be
a rotten shame,' I said, 'if somebody went and opened a combination
grocery and meat market right next door and ruined Purdy's nice
little business.' Especially - " Babbitt leaned forward, and his
voice was harsh, " - it would be hard luck if one of these
cash-and-carry chain-stores got in there and started cutting prices
below cost till they got rid of competition and forced you to the
wall!"
Purdy snatched his thin hands from his pockets,
pulled up his trousers, thrust his hands back into his pockets,
tilted in the heavy oak chair, and tried to look amused, as he
struggled:
"Yes, they're bad competition. But I guess you don't
realize the Pulling Power that Personality has in a neighborhood
business."
The great Babbitt smiled. "That's so. Just as you
feel, old man. We thought we'd give you first chance. All right
then - "
"Now look here!" Purdy wailed. "I know f'r a fact
that a piece of property 'bout same size, right near, sold for less
'n eighty-five hundred, 'twa'n't two years ago, and here you
fellows are asking me twenty-four thousand dollars!
V
Conrad Lyte was a real-estate speculator. He was a
nervous speculator. Before he gambled he consulted bankers,
lawyers, architects, contracting builders, and all of their clerks
and stenographers who were willing to be cornered and give him
advice. He was a bold entrepreneur, and he desired nothing more
than complete safety in his investments, freedom from attention to
details, and the thirty or forty per cent. profit which, according
to all authorities, a pioneer deserves for his risks and foresight.
He was a stubby man with a cap-like mass of short gray curls and
clothes which, no matter how well cut, seemed shaggy. Below his
eyes were semicircular hollows, as though silver dollars had been
pressed against them and had left an imprint.
Particularly and always Lyte consulted Babbitt, and
trusted in his slow cautiousness.
Six months ago Babbitt had learned that one
Archibald Purdy, a grocer in the indecisive residential district
known as Linton, was talking of opening a butcher shop beside his
grocery. Looking up the ownership of adjoining parcels of land,
Babbitt found that Purdy owned his present shop but did not own the
one available lot adjoining. He advised Conrad Lyte to purchase
this lot, for eleven thousand dollars, though an appraisal on a
basis of rents did not indicate its value as above nine thousand.
The rents, declared Babbitt, were too low; and by waiting they
could make Purdy come to their price. (This was Vision.) He had to
bully Lyte into buying. His first act as agent for Lyte was to
increase the rent of the battered store-building on the lot. The
tenant said a number of rude things, but he paid.
Now, Purdy seemed ready to buy, and his delay was
going to cost him ten thousand extra dollars - the reward paid by
the community to Mr. Conrad Lyte for the virtue of employing a
broker who had Vision and who understood Talking Points, Strategic
Values, Key Situations, Underappraisals, and the Psychology of
Salesmanship.
Lyte came to the conference exultantly. He was fond
of Babbitt, this morning, and called him "old hoss." Purdy, the
grocer. a long-nosed man and solemn, seemed to care less for
Babbitt and for Vision, but Babbitt met him at the street door of
the office and guided him toward the private room with affectionate
little cries of "This way, Brother Purdy!" He took from the
correspondence-file the entire box of cigars and forced them on his
guests. He pushed their chairs two inches forward and three inches
back, which gave an hospitable note, then leaned back in his
desk-chair and looked plump and jolly. But he spoke to the weakling
grocer with firmness.
"Well, Brother Purdy, we been having some pretty
tempting offers from butchers and a slew of other folks for that
lot next to your store, but I persuaded Brother Lyte that we ought
to give you a shot at the property first. I said to Lyte, 'It'd be
a rotten shame,' I said, 'if somebody went and opened a combination
grocery and meat market right next door and ruined Purdy's nice
little business.' Especially - " Babbitt leaned forward, and his
voice was harsh, " - it would be hard luck if one of these
cash-and-carry chain-stores got in there and started cutting prices
below cost till they got rid of competition and forced you to the
wall!"
Purdy snatched his thin hands from his pockets,
pulled up his trousers, thrust his hands back into his pockets,
tilted in the heavy oak chair, and tried to look amused, as he
struggled:
"Yes, they're bad competition. But I guess you don't
realize the Pulling Power that Personality has in a neighborhood
business."
The great Babbitt smiled. "That's so. Just as you
feel, old man. We thought we'd give you first chance. All right
then - "
"Now look here!" Purdy wailed. "I know f'r a fact
that a piece of property 'bout same size, right near, sold for less
'n eighty-five hundred, 'twa'n't two years ago, and here you
fellows are asking me twenty-four thousand dollars!
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