Life "On the Road" Reminiscences of a Drummer

LIFE "ON THE ROAD" Reminiscences of a Drummer

By Dorothy J. Buchanan

We remember in Meredith Wilson's opening scene in The Music Man that a number of traveling men of a past era are riding on a train and discussing their business problems. After spirited comments on relative merits of cash and credit, the culminating statement is that a traveling man had to know his territory.

My father, Henry C. "Shall" Jacobs, was a traveling man from the year 1894 to 1902, with the exception of two years when he served as a missionary to Great Britain. He knew his territory and loved every foot of it. He did not hesitate to say that it was choice above all others. During the past few years, he and I have often discussed the life he lived during what he always termed "those happy, carefree years" when he was "on the road."

After I had finished my college work, when I told him that I had signed a contract to teach school in Richfield, Sevier County, he was delighted. He told me that I would never regret it because I would be living among choice people, which I found later to be correct.

My father was born in Prattville, between Richfield and Glenwood, March 15, 1876. His birthplace was a small log cabin which stood near the spot where the Ford Fisheries now stand. His father, H. C. Jacobs, in company with Helaman Pratt, was sent to settle Prattville. The family were members of the United Order and lived in Prattville for six rugged years. They returned to Salt Lake City where they lived until my father was 15 years of age when they moved to Ogden.

Grandfather Jacobs was a good friend of John Scowcroft, who had a wholesale grocery and merchandise business. One day Mr. Scowcroft asked my father to work for him, and he, naturally, asked his father's advice. Grandfather Jacobs went to his friend, John Scowcroft, and said, "John, I'll be glad to have Shall work for you, but I don't want him to go on the road to be a drummer." So it was with this understanding that my father began working for Scowcroft and Sons in the grocery department.

My father dictated the rest of the story to me in his own words, as follows.

It was about two years after I started to work for Scowcroft's, that Joe Scowcroft, one of the sons who was filled with zip, wit, and vigor, called me aside and said, "Shall, when you go home for dinner today, ask your mother if it will be all right for you to have supper with me tonight." So after work he took me to the nicest restaurant in Ogden and ordered a fine meal. We had a long talk in which he told me how much the company appreciated what I was doing, but that he and his father felt that my real future lay on the "road." I went home and told father, and he said that if I could keep myself free from evils associated with the word "drummer," he thought it would be all right.

I was 18 then and my territory was between Salt Lake and Richfield that first year. I traveled with Joe Decker, who was just one year older and sold dry goods for Scowcroft's. Because we were the youngest men on the road we were referred to as "Scowcroft's Babies."

I enjoyed my new life, and my days on the road were happy ones. I covered my territory every two weeks and soon felt that I knew all the hotel people, merchants, clerks, and hack drivers on my route. I traveled with two bags — one for my personal effects, and the other containing order books, price lists, and some special article which I was pushing on that particular trip, such as scrubbing brushes, brooms, graters, etc.

Many of the "trunk" men and certain influential drummers from the East drove out of Salt Lake in their own white top buggies, but I would travel on the train as far as I could go, then hire a team to visit towns which were not on the railroad. For instance, when I first visited Sevier, the train ran only to Salina, so I had to hire a rig to take me to Richfield. My first salary was $60.00 a month. Later, a three per cent commission on goods I sold was added.

My work was cut short, however, when I was called on a mission to Great Britain in 1896 DOROTHY J- BUCHANAN from the Ogden Fifth Ward. There were only five wards in Ogden at that time. I received $53.00 in cash at my farewell testimonial. Then in addition, all the employees of Scowcroft's chipped in together and presented me with $65.00 more, which I thought was a handsome sum. I left for my mission on April 17, 1896.

Scowcroft's told me that they would hold my job open for me, so after fulfilling my mission, which was most beneficial to me, I returned home in June of 1898 and resumed my work with Scowcroft and Sons.

This time my route of travel varied. I started in Lehi, Utah County, and went from Nephi to Hinckley, Oasis, Deseret, Abraham, Milford, Frisco, St. George, Parowan, Paragonah, Panguitch, then north to Mt. Pleasant and Fairview. I went by train to Milford, took the stage to Beaver, rented a team from Larsen and Anderson's Livery Stable in Elsinore, and arranged to have them send an outfit over to Beaver to meet me. After I'd completed my trip to St. George and other towns in the south part of the state, I'd return to Elsinore and take the new D & RG train and visit Richfield and towns up the line as far as Fairview.

The three gathering spots which most of us looked forward to visiting were Richfield, Elsinore, and Mt. Pleasant. Anyone who was stranded in Panguitch or other places knew that he could probably look forward to spending the evening alone, or perhaps with one or two others. But in Elsinore, Richfield, and Mt. Pleasant, we knew that many travelers would be gathered there and that we would have a lively evening.

And did we enjoy being together! I was young and carefree, and the hotels were all family hotels, just like home, with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, cream gravy, and garden-fresh vegetables, all set on the big dining room table. We were charged 50 cents per point, that is 50 cents for each meal and the same for a bed, adding up to $2.00 a day and night. There was always a 25-cent hack fare if we had been driven up from the depot.

In Elsinore Bishop J. I. Jensen owned the hotel where I stayed. His wife was a top-notch cook, and his daughters were some of the most attractive and fine girls that I ever met. I liked to attend dances while there, and sometimes the Jensen girls would drop me a note and tell me when they were planning to have a special party or dance. They were a hospitable family, and after our evening meal we often sat in the parlor and sang songs or had a program.

Another family I liked to visit in Elsinore were the Ostlunds who lived on Main Street. They had a store in their home, which was a red rock structure that is still standing. I could always depend on Sister Ostlund's treating me to newly baked buns and fresh buttermilk when I put in an appearance.

Often on my run out of Elsinore I'd carry a Winchester 22 repeating rifle and shoot as I drove along the road. One time I well remember killing a coyote — just a chance shot at a great distance, but I got him right behind the ear.

I always stayed at the Brown Hotel in Mt. Pleasant. They had spacious lawns where they set up a croquet set in the summer and encouraged everyone to play. Often a group of us would be playing until 11 or 12 at night by the light of coal oil lamps which were placed around the lawns. It got real cold in the winter season, and many of the bedrooms were not heated, so I bought a large, heavy knit nightshirt, which came nearly to the floor and proved to be a great comfort. Incidentally, it never did wear out.

It was while in Mt. Pleasant that I met your mother, Alberta Larsen, on one of my regular trips. A friend had asked her to help demonstrate a new orange drink, put out by Hewlett Brothers, by giving free samples. I walked up the sidewalk with another salesman and entered the building where they were. Her friend introduced me to her, and she kept refilling my glass with orangeade. She was really the only girl that I seriously courted.

In Richfield we had two of the finest cooks in my whole territory — Tene and Soph Jensen. They ran the Jensen House in the home of their father, Taylor Jensen, the home now occupied by the V. V. Jensen family. Their place was a general favorite among all travelers who had ever eaten there once; they would always find their way back after that. Soph was an artist at mashed potatoes. And they could both sing, if we'd coax them a little.

There was a lady in Ephraim who ran the hotel there, named Mrs. Peter Greaves. She made the tastiest hash I have ever eaten. She knew it was good, too, and would serve it to us often. As a rule, we had both cake and pie for dessert at most of the hotels. The Tucker House in Fairview was as neat and shining clean as could be, as was the Bench House in Manti.

Eating at "Beefsteak" Harrison's in Springville was a memorable experience. Springville was a junction on the railroad and a bustling place. "Beefsteak" had a way with people and was a real cook. His specialty was steak and fresh bass from Utah Lake.

As I recall, at the time I was traveling, there was not a single home on the road between Beaver and Parowan. In Beaver I looked forward to visiting the main storekeeper there, a man named John F. Tolton, who was president of the stake and a member of the legislature. He had only one clerk, a Miss Beaumont, but she was a cracker jack of a worker.

I also liked to go to New Harmony where William Redd owned the store. Later he moved to Raymond, Canada, while I was living there, and we were close neighbors. I looked forward to driving over to Touquerville where Bishop Bringhurst ran the only store in town. People raised luscious grapes there and I'd buy a ten gallon pail full for 75 cents and eat them as I drove along. The soil was so sandy that it would come up to my buggy hubs.

I usually had food in my rig to munch on as I drove along. Often I'd buy a can of oysters or sardines, a wedge of cheese, and a box of soda crackers. I'd buy bananas when I could get them.

We all have memories of meals that we have eaten during the course of our lives that stand out as being extra special and delicious. I clearly remember one noon time when I was rolling along the Pine Valley Road on a beautiful summer day, when I began getting hunger pangs and realized I was hungry and didn't have a bite of food with me. I knew there was no hotel there, but I came upon a very neat looking house nestled in a grove of pines. Something told me that this was the home of a good cook. So I drove up, stopped, and asked the lady who lived there if she would fix me a meal. She was most agreeable about it, and what a spread she set before me! I never remember enjoying a meal more. And all for the sum of 50 cents, which she rather reluctantly charged me, fearing it was too much.

At Cedar City there was an incorporated business called The Cedar City Sheep Association, managed by Myron Higbee. I had all of their grocery business. Joe Decker and I often went there together where we'd stay at Andrew Corely's home, and the family would treat us like invited guests - would often have a party while we were there.

I always dreaded making the trip over the Black Ridge, as it was considered to be the most dangerous place on the road. Freighters would sometimes break down there and everyone would pitch in and help get them out. The clearest, most sparkling stream of water that I recall in those parts was in Silver Reef where everyone liked to get a drink.

We were always glad to get to St. George where we'd make straight for Ras Whitehead's big general store, quite a gathering place. I remember in the hot summer season how people would take their beds outside under the trees.

Leeds was noted for the excellent wine which was made there. Many visitors stocked up on the Leeds wine to take home with them.

I'd drive over to the Swiss colony at Santa Clara, where the people lived such a sedate life that they wouldn't say "damn" for any reason in the world. They were fine people all right, and knew how to make things grow.

In 1900 my territory was enlarged to include Carbon County, Emery, Castle Valley, Huntington, and also Moab and Monticello. The roads were so extremely rough in places that it wasn't uncommon to have a breakdown. I would take the train to Thompson where I'd board the stage which took me on to Monticello and Moab. It got pretty dusty in the summer months.

I have always felt that I made some choice and lasting friends during those traveling days. For the most part they were the finest people to be found anywhere. I felt that I knew every store manager, clerk, and hotel owner from A to Z.

Elsinore May 31,1902

Mr. Shall Jacobs

Ogden, Utah

Dear Shall: We received your most welcome letter some time ago. It was very kind of you to remember us and we appreciate it so very much. Tonight we are lonely and alone, not a person here but Tom, of cource he is playing "High Lonesome." Ha! ha!

Tom isn't nearly as funny as he useto be; guess prospects are not as bright as they were.

We are all well and happy, but miss Emma and are continually sighing for "Shall" and a few other fellows.

Say you must try and come down this summer, you know how happy we will be to see you.

We will do all in our power to make your visit pleasureable.

Your successor hasn't called yet. We are quite anxious to see him, but are sure he can't take the place of "Shall"

Emma is Mrs. Lund now, just think of it. She is liveing in Salt Lake City now. Call and see her some day she will be so glad to see you.

Dear girl, it nearly broke our hearts to have her go. But she is still our own dear "Em." Ma and Pa join us in sending love.

Now don't forget us but think of us as your sisters.

Minnie and Tina

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