To me, it seemed as though a sample story would be just about as good an introduction to the editors as a recital of my splendid qualifications. The next thing was to get the sample story. I was walking down Washington street one day, when I saw a pile of old shoes in the window of the Walkover Boot Shop. A large sign read, “$2 for Your Old Shoes.” “Go

and get it!” I ordered myself, but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth; it was years since I had approached a prospective “interview,” years of office subservience had humbled me, almost broken my spirit, and I had none of the self assurance that is almost a requirement.

After walking around the Broadway entrance to the Washington street entrance two or three times, and even down to the middle of the next block, I retraced

wrote and completed the little story in less

than two hours. And also would I please write some more for them? Amongst my sextette of fictions was a series Written from my own experience in social work. These I had sent to Social Progress, and tumbling almost upon the heels of the precious $6.18 was a letter of acceptance.

with an invitation to send more. (Later I sold Social Progress a juvenile story, and two or three brief articles.) I had visions

of grinding out two juvenile stories a day; that would be $12.36, and my fortune would be made. However, after I had hatched out three or four more, which were promptly returned, I decided to be practical and cash in where the ready money trail led. For right while I was

on the path to juvenile story writing, I

began to sell my trade journal efforts. I’ll tell just exactly how. New FIELD Winsss

my steps, gulped and swallowed, and en tered the store, asking in muffled tones for the manager. Mr. Scherer kindly ex

plained the selling plan to me, and I went back to the office and wrote the idea up

in about 500 words. I hunted for a mar ket in the Literary Market column of The Editor; it happened to be the Merchants’

Trade Journal, Des Moines, Iowa. Off it went, and I didn’t know exactly what to do next. A few days later, I went into Green field’s shoe store to get some shoes for my little boy. I was immediately impressed with the attractively equipped juvenile department, and thought it good enough for a story. I found Manager Zing-leman a fine subject for an interview, he knew just what I wanted and with fine adept

ness went straight to the heart of their selling system, at the same time delving into a history of the business from the time that George L. Greenfield first came

The Merchants’ Trade Journal rejected my “$2 for Your Old Shoes.” However, the rejection contained encouragement;

they stated that they had used the same idea just a few months ago. I decided to give it one more chance and then ditch it.

It went to the Pacific Coast Merchant. In my letter accompanying same, I asked the editor if he would be interested in a story on the Greenfield Shoe Co. He was slow in replying, so I sent the story to the Merchants’ Trade Journal. But a few days after it had left my hands I heard from the Pacific Coast Merchant, they were very glad to get the story on the old shoes, and would publish it shortly, after which I would receive payment. They would like very much indeed to get the Greenfield shoe story, as well as anything else that I might find interesting to send them from Portland. I wrote back at once explaining that the Greenfield shoe

to Portland. Then he gave me three photos of the interior of the store. During this time I had received a check

time, I wrote to the Merchants Trade Jour

for $6.18 from the David C. Cook Pub

nal, telling them that I had a call for the

lishing Co. for the second of the juve nile stories I had written. I believe that I

Greenfield story, and please, if they didn’t want it, rush the return so it

story was gone, but that if it came back

I would send it to them. In order to save

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