A canvasser may have good health, mental capacity, using all with skill, so that his discernment and judgment are sagaciously applied, and discreetly speaking or keeping silent, avoiding all useless debates on religion and politics, so that a wise man may recognize a kindred spirit….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another very important part of a canvasser’s talents is his mentality. His mind must have had sufficient development for him to express what he wishes to say in a simple way, but above all it must be intelligent to his listener.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No man who wants to do all of the talking in his interviews with men can succeed as a canvasser. It is a curious fact, but nevertheless true, that some of the poorest talkers insist on being heard; on the other hand, some of the best talkers are able to sit still and listen to a man make a fool of himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back of the divine talent, patience, are other divine talents, namely, meekness, kindness and gentleness, and I might add, modesty and amiability. For a pugnacious, domineering, dictatorial spirit will soon meet his match and in the cat-like controversy that follows, patience, with all the beautiful qualities back of it, are lost, and each one of these human volcanoes will go his way, if permitted to do so, thinking the other one an unmitigated fool and a counterfeit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If the canvasser can only say to himself, “If I get one customer out of every ten men, I see my fortune is made.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A good canvasser… studies the characters of men, that he may win them, without offending them. He studies his own character that he may cut out all that is weak and offensive, that he may add to it all that is discovered to be strong and attractive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In trying to give to you my ideas of what a canvasser ought to be, and is to some extent, you may note that his character has grown from an ordinary solicitor, one who asks favors of the public, to one whose life and purposes include the good of others as well as himself. Being good himself in his own life, he is inclined to be good to others.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canvassing is a business requiring a special talent, I might say, many special talents.

 

 

 

 

 

The Canvasser

Excerpted from
Tributes to My Mother and Father and Some Stories of My Life

by Jesse Mercer Battle, The Mangan Press, St. Louis, MO, 1911

 

 

A canvasser such as this man would earn his bread and butter by selling products door to door. Photograph, 1922, Topical Press Agency/Hulton Archive/Getty Images. Used with permission.

In the mid-19th century, a canvasser, now usually a person who works to get votes for a political candidate or support for a proposed government bill, was an early version of the traveling door-to-door salesman.

In the early 1870s, Jesse Mercer Battle was a canvasser, spending months at a time in city after city, visiting every doctor’s office and giving out samples and literature in the hope of selling his brand of remedies for an assortment of ailments. After some early success in North Carolina, Battle and his brother and business partner, Cullen, moved to St. Louis in 1875 and founded Battle and Co. Chemists’ Corporation, at 2100 Locust Street. The manufacture of drugs proved quite lucrative; Battle was a millionaire at the time of his death in 1914.

Battle had a knack for detail and an incredible memory. In 1911, the Mangan Press published his book Tributes to My Father and Mother and Some Stories of My Life. In the following excerpt, he recalls his days as a canvasser, learning the trade with his brother.

 

	A caricature of Jesse M. Battle, printed in "St. Louisans As We See ’Em," A. Noble Printing Co., St. Louis. Engraving, ca. 1928. © Missouri History Museum.

My brother, Cullen, and I started [from St. Louis] to Chicago on the 19th of January, 1876. I had just come from North Carolina where the climate is mild and pleasant. I had never owned an overcoat, I did not need it, and to land in a country where the thermometer registered around zero was such a change that a man much less sensitive than I was would have felt it keenly.

We arrived [by train] in Chicago about 7 o’clock in the morning. When I got in the omnibus to ride up to a hotel, I never felt so cold in my life. I was dressed in the same clothes that I wore in North Carolina, my underclothes were half cotton, and my outer garments were light weight. I had on an extra sack coat that I put on, and my brother did the same; neither of us had an overcoat, such as is worn by all men in this northern country.

The omnibus at last landed us at Brown’s Hotel on State street. We got the name of this hotel from a Chicago man whom we met in St. Louis. When I got out of that omnibus I was hardly able to get into the hotel. My jaws were tired from shivering.

My brother suggested that we go into the bar and get a drink of brandy or whiskey. I was so cold that I would have drank anything suggested in order to get warm.

So we went in and called for whiskey cocktails. I had drank so little in my life that I did not know what a whiskey cocktail was, my brother gave the order. The bar-keeper, one of them, there were seven behind the bar, fixed up the drinks and pushed them over toward us, looking at us with a benevolent expression of inquiry, which asked very plainly, without using words, “I wonder where these green ones came from?”

We paid for our drinks and went to the hotel office, engaged our rooms and, after washing our faces, went to breakfast. By this time I was beginning to thaw out, and I felt real comfortable. My brother did not complain, neither did I, but both of us realized that these experiences were entirely new.

At the breakfast table the girl that waited on us brought us some oatmeal, the first that I had ever seen served as food for man. We ate it, as we wanted to appear as if we were used to such a diet. I thought at the time that it was a funny time of the day to eat pudding, as it seemed to be to me, after we had added sugar and cream to it. We usually ate our dessert in the middle of the day, and after we had finished eating our dinner, but here we were started off on dessert the first thing for breakfast. This was a big change in diet for two green country boys from the backwoods of North Carolina.

We gradually got used to the manner of feeding the boarders, and as we were out canvassing all day, every day, our appetites were something enormous. We never had indigestion; no matter what we ate, it agreed with us, and we had no ground for complaint. We paid one dollar per day for board, and I have paid as much as three dollars per day on many occasions and did not get so good fare as at Brown’s Hotel at one dollar.

After we had finished our first breakfast at this hotel, we went out to map out our work. We went into a stationery store and bought a map of Chicago; with this map we could divide the territory so that we might canvass the city intelligently and thoroughly. After doing this, we both started out to see the many doctors in Chicago. There were about three thousand of them at that time.

My first day’s experience taught me many things.

The first thing I learned was that I was not properly clothed, my clothes were too thin for such cold weather. My boots were single soled and with thin tops, with high heels. Walking on the hard streets blistered my feet. I was going into well heated rooms and out again in an atmosphere where the thermometer registered fifteen degrees below zero. Every time I made such a change, I thought the wind was blowing right through me. I suffered so, I knew that I must have more clothing, but I did not want to spend the money for clothes, for I was sure that I would need all that I had, and more, too, in my business.

So, after much thought, I consented to spend enough to keep me from freezing and to make myself presentable when I went into a doctor’s office.

I went into a dry goods store and bought three-quarters of a yard of gray Rock Island kersey. I cut a hole in the middle of this piece of cloth large enough to put my head through. This I used as an extra shirt, putting it on under my white shirt. This put a thick cover over my chest and over my back. I bought some boots at a shoe store, wide and with low heels.

I bought some carbolic acid and some borax at a drug store. I added water to the carbolic acid and bathed my feet at night, and dusted the borax into my stockings in the morning. In this way I cured the blisters on my feet. The piece of thick cloth kept my body warm, so I was comfortable.

One day I went to a doctor’s office. I rang the door bell, an Irish servant girl came to the door; after looking me over well, she said, “What do you want?” in a very short and impertinent manner. I said, in my sweetest tones, that “I wished to see the doctor.” She snapped out again, “What do you want to see him about?” I said, “On business.” She asked again, “What kind of business?” I answered, “Medical business.” She asked again, “Are you sick?” I was warming up a little, so I answered, “Yes, I am sick of you. When will the doctor be back?” This put her in a passion, and she answered, “I don’t think that he will ever be home for you.” So I had to leave without seeing the doctor.

After I got away I got to thinking it all over. So I asked myself what was it about me that caused the girl to talk to me like that? After much thought, I solved the problem. I had a little bag in which I carried advertising matter and samples, and I was wearing a soft felt hat, pulled down well over my forehead, and I had on a well worn grey coat over my fall suit, which altogether gave me the appearance of a peddler, and I am sure that this is what she took me for.

The next day I bought a high silk hat and a black overcoat. I had my beard trimmed to a Van Dyke style, and after waiting a day or so, I went back to the same doctor’s office. I rang the bell and waited. At last my same girl came. I changed my voice some, and asked if the doctor was in. She did not recognize me. She said in her sweetest voice, “No, he is not, but come right in and wait a few minutes, he will be in right away.” So polite, so solicitous, so anxious to serve the doctor. She took me for a rich patient. So much for a silk hat and a long black overcoat.

I wore a silk hat and stylish clothes as long as I canvassed, and I left off the silk hat as soon as I quit the road.

	Cullen A. Battle’s caricature also appeared in "St. Louisans As We See ’Em." Engraving, ca. 1928. © Missouri History Museum.

My brother and I stuck to our self imposed tasks. He was not so adjustable as I was, and was not so successful as a canvasser, but he made a good canvasser. The first year (1876) that we went out canvassing we visited only the largest cities. We went from Chicago to Milwaukee, Detroit, Cleveland, Buffalo, Syracuse, Rochester, Erie, Pa., Albany, New York City, Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, D.C., Harrisburg, Pittsburg, Columbus, Indianapolis, Cincinnati, Louisville, Evansville, Frankfort, Nashville, Memphis, Atlanta, Montgomery, New Orleans, Little Rock, Ark., Kansas City, Omaha, Des Moines, St. Paul, Minneapolis, Duluth, Lincoln, Denver, Sacramento, San Francisco and Los Angeles.

After this we canvassed all the good towns in all the Central and Eastern States, and later we sent other canvassers through the Southern States and Western States. We worked and canvassed, putting out samples as gifts to the physicians, with literature describing what the remedy was intended to be, and what it was intended to do. In six months we were selling goods in gross lots. In one year we were making a little money.

	Front cover of Battle and Co.’s brochure on small pox treatment, 1903. © Missouri History Museum.

As the years passed by our business grew, by careful expenditure of funds in advertising we kept growing.

My wife came out to St. Louis [from North Carolina] first in May, 1878. Our daughter, Helen, was then going on three months old, Miss Frances Wood came with us as cook and companion. We made our first home at 1338 North Jefferson avenue. We paid twenty-two dollars and fifty cents per month rent. In 1880 we moved to 3034 Easton avenue, rent $50.00 per month.

In 1882 Mrs. Lee [Mrs. Battle’s mother] came out to visit us. She was well pleased with what I had done, and also pleased to know that we lived so well.

She said that it was reported down in North Carolina that I was in the saloon business and she was glad to learn that it was not true.

That same year we moved to 2819 Locust street in a large commodious house. The rent of this house was one hundred and twenty-five dollars per month.

We lived there one year. We had a nice stable and a brougham and a buggy and two pair of horses and went driving every afternoon.

Mrs. Jesse Mercer Battle (Laura Elizabeth Lee). Photograph, ca. 1909. Used with permission of Documenting the American South, The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill Libraries.

One day we were driving out on Marcus avenue and saw a very pretty old rock house with about three acres around it.

My wife said, “How I would like to live there; it would be so fine for Nell,” as we called our daughter. I took the name of the real estate men who had it for rent. He surprised me when he said the rent was thirty-five dollars per month if I would lease it for three years. I reported on it and my wife said, “Go and get it before some one else does.”

So I leased it for three years.

My brother-in-law, Rev. Dr. Joseph H. Foy, with my sister, Katie, with two daughters and my mother, came to St. Louis in 1877.

As soon as my wife came out in 1878, my mother came to live with me. We were all very happy together, but in 1883, my brother Cullen, who was then a bachelor, rented a house at 3008 Locust street and invited my sister, Mrs. Jos. H. Foy, and mother to live with him.

After they left us, we no longer needed such a big house as 2819 Locust street and this is why my wife wanted a smaller house, and the big yard for our daughter to play in. We lived on Marcus avenue for 18 months. My poor wife was stricken with pelvic celulitis, which was very painful. For three months my wife suffered, remaining in bed all the time and being given morphine every day to relieve her intense suffering. At the end of three months my wife was still in a critical condition and suffering.

One day Dr. Larew called me aside as he went out and told me that my wife was not improving and if I wanted another doctor in consultation, I might call one in. He said, “I have done all that I know how to do; and I would rather have another doctor to share the responsibility.” I asked him did he know another doctor that he thought knew more about such a case than he did. He said there was a Dr. Barrett who had a great reputation in such cases, and he thought Dr. Barrett’s advice might be worth having. So the next day, he brought Dr. Barrett out with him.

Dr. Barrett took right hold of the case and after making a thorough examination called Dr. Larew and myself into the other room. I report what he said from memory. He said, “Mr. Battle, as you are in the medical line, I treat you as a doctor. Mrs. Battle is very weak and growing weaker every day for lack of exercise. She is now too weak to take exercise. You must give her exercise, passive exercise, give her massages, either get somebody who understands it or do it yourself.”

I quit business and stayed home, devoting my time to my wife. I became the masseur. I did as near as the doctor had told me as I could. I gave the exercise mildly and patiently at first, and as my wife grew stronger, I increased the pressure and lengthened the time. My wife grew stronger and stronger each day, but cutting off the morphine made her so nervous and filled her so full of aches and pains that she wished that she were dead. She could not sleep one minute night or day, at last from pure exhaustion she would doze a few minutes at the time. She would throw her arms and hands up against the head board of the bed until they had many bruises. She would throw her legs against the wall and bruise them. So I padded the head of the bed with pillows and pulled the bed from the wall. My wife was delirious off and on for three weeks, but at last, with lots of patience and perseverance, we were rewarded by seeing our dear patient come back to the world of good sense and show decided signs of increased strength and appetite. Without any assistance she got out of bed and walked across the room. It is certainly amazing what wonderful recuperating powers can be and are given to another by and through what we call massage. If you, reader, have an invalid, do what I have told you that I did, and watch the results. You will be astonished.

At last my wife was well and strong again but she said, “I have enough of the country, let us move back to town again.” So we looked for a man to sublease our house to, found him, and in one more month we were settled at 3034 Lucas avenue. We lived at this place for a part of 1885 and all of 1886.

Just before Christmas, 1886, I bought the house numbered 2813 Lucas avenue, and moved into it at once.

Longtime Battle family residence at 4463 Lindell Boulevard. Mercer and his wife and daughter moved here in 1896. Photograph by William Swekosky, 1960. © Missouri History Museum.

We lived at this house until 1896, when we traded it off for our present home at 4463 Lindell Boulevard. This has been our home for almost fif[t]een years. It is here that we have had our greatest joys and our greatest sorrows; the brightest days and the blackest nights. It is here our lovely daughter, after graduating at the Reed School in New York, and a trip to Europe with her mother and I, came back to this new, elegant home, to gather around her a number of friends to make her life a round of pleasure and joys; it was here she met her future husband. It was here her two children were born. It was here that she spent so many weary days, when she was confined to her bed as an invalid, and could hardly stand on her feet for a few minutes at a time.

It was here that she came back to health and strength again.

It is here that my dear wife and I have had our greatest luxuries; where we have had all that wealth could give us. It is here that we have entertained our many friends and relatives, giving to them without stint all the pleasures of a city life. It is here that we have seen four Presidents pass our door, Mr. Cleveland, Mr. McKinley, Mr. Roosevelt and Mr. Taft.

It is here that we saw all the parades during the World’s Fair in 1903 and 1904.

It was here in our block that we saw the greatest gathering of Roman Catholic Cardinals, Archbishops, Bishops, Prelates and Laymen that has probably ever been gotten together in America. The occasion was the laying of the corner stone of the three-million-dollar cathedral on the eastern corner of the block.

It was from this house that my poor brother, Cullen, was buried.

It may be from this house that my wife and I will take our last ride on earth.

If my success has given to me a life, “well lived, filled with joy and love, if I have had the trust of pure women and the love of little children,” if I have finished the task my God has assigned to me and “filled my niche” and accomplished the good that I purposed to do; if I “have looked for the best in others and gave the best that I had, whether in an improved poppy, a perfect poem or a rescued soul;” if I have never failed to appreciate earth’s beauty, nor failed to express it, if my “life has been an inspiration” to others, and “my memory shall be a benediction” to those who come after me; then I shall not have lived in vain.

With love to God, the Father, and love to all His Sons, and love to His Holy Spirit, and love to all of His creatures.

I am, your obedient servant,

Jesse Mercer Battle