The Project Gutenberg eBook of Radio razz

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Title: Radio razz

Author: Jack Woodford

Release date: July 28, 2024 [eBook #74145]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: The Frank A. Munsey Company, 1925

Credits: Roger Frank and Sue Clark

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RADIO RAZZ ***
frontispiece

RADIO RAZZ

By Jack Woodford

I have always liked to hang around old Doc Edwards’s radio store in the evenings; not, particularly, because of any great interest in radio, for I have a five tube set of my own with which I can pick up everything from Kahoolawe to Nansen Sound and I could just as well stay at home and try for the Eiffel Tower; but it’s the way old Doc Edwards sells ’em that gets me.

You see, the “Doctor” comes from Edwards’s days as a veterinary surgeon; but old man Edwards was never at heart a veterinary surgeon, he was in reality a horse trader. When horses got to the point where people began to consider saving the last remaining specimens for zoological gardens and historical societies, Doc Edwards turned to radio. And oh, what a radio salesman he is!

To begin with, he won’t have a new set in his store, or, if he does have to stock a few new sets now and then, he invariably marks them “secondhand,” for he hates anything that has a fixed price on it.

Not a set in Doc’s shop has a price tag, and not a set but what he may vary the price from one hundred to one thousand per cent. And I wish you could see him sell them. All he aims to do is to get some cash out of any one who comes in the store, and, leave it to him, he never fails; at least, I never saw him fail except once, the night he had matchmaking in his head.

You see, Doc is a kindly old cuss, and it isn’t so much that he wants to make a whale of a lot of money as that he just naturally enjoys a shrewd bargain. After he’s made one he’s as happy as a lark, whether any more customers come in or not; but, if he makes a bad bargain, the best thing to do is to go home, for Doc won’t be worth talking to for the rest of the evening.

One of Doc’s pet theories is that if you use a real good super-hetrodyne set, on a clear, calm night, sitting in a dark room with all light excluded, there is a way of tuning that permits you to see the whole solar firmament in the mouth of your loud speaker. I’ve always thought that that was a lot of bunk, but—well, we’ll see.

One night I dropped into Doc’s store around eight thirty to watch him make a few “trades,” as he invariably called his sales.

He was looking kind of glum, and I surmised that he must have turned a pretty bad bargain somewhere along in the afternoon, and wouldn’t be worth while talking to that evening, and I was just about getting ready to go home again when in came the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on.

She was about twenty or thereabouts, and dressed up to the minute.

“Want to look at a five tube set, neutrodyne circuit,” she said to Doc.

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Doc, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He loved to bargain with women because they were so much shrewder than the men usually. “I got some of the finest five tube neutrodynes in the city, madam; of course, they’re all secondhanded, but, most of ’em is as good as new, and I guarantee every set to work; if it don’t you’re at liberty to bring it back and have it fixed free of charge, or get another one, just as you like. Anyone who has done business with me will tell you that Doc Edwards is strictly on the square.”

“Yes,” agreed the young woman, looking at me curiously out of the corner of her eye, “several people I know in the neighborhood have spoken very well of you to me; I have every confidence in you.” She lowered her head for a moment after this remark, and Doc shot a glance at me in high glee, a glance which said “Watch me!”

I, however, was busy watching the girl. I must admit that it had been a long time since I had seen a pretty woman who interested me so much. She was the kind that even I, confirmed bachelor that I am, would have considered furnishing up a flat for and being led off, bound willingly hand and foot, to the altar.

“Now here is a set,” began Doc, leading her over to inspect a real secondhand outfit, in fairly good condition, though a little old. “You can pick up the whole United States with this, and possibly some points in Europe. I’ll guarantee it absolutely, and if you can’t get the Coast after you’ve had it thirty days you may bring it back to me and I’ll return your money.”

The girl looked interested.

“How much?” she inquired, glancing over at me in a confidential sort of way as much as to say, “You won’t let him take advantage of me, will you?”

I smiled back reassuringly, and thought I detected just the faintest answering smile.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Doc. “I like you somehow, you’re the kind of person who will boost my business in the neighborhood, so I’ll just let you have this set for a hundred and nine dollars and fifty cents, which, you can see, is dirt cheap.”

The girl looked a little surprised.

“Why,” she stammered, in patent confusion, “I couldn’t think of paying that much for a set; fifty dollars would be my limit.”

Doc looked pained and took out a corn cob pipe and lit it before replying.

“Well,” he said, at last, “I’d be losing quite a bit if I let you have it that cheap; but, as I said before, once in a while I make an ‘advertising sale,’ that is, I let some one have a set real cheap because I think he’s the sort of person who will boost my business in the neighborhood. Now, if you’ll promise not to tell any one how much you paid for this set I’ll split the difference between your price and mine with you, making the total cost of this excellent set, to you, and to you only, seventy-nine dollars and seventy-five cents; and, at that price, you’re getting a set below cost.”

Still the girl looked a little doubtful. She glanced over at me, and I was sure I detected the faintest suggestion of a companionable smile this time.

“Well,” she hesitated, “may I try it out for a few moments?”

“Certainly,” said Doc, for this tickled him; he considered a customer seventy-five per cent. sold if he could get them to tuning a set themselves.

He took the set over on the counter and hooked it up with the immense aerial he maintained on the roof, and with his fixed ground. Just as the girl started turning on the lights the door opened again and a young man came in with a large bundle under his arm.

Silently he placed the bundle upon the counter and started unwrapping it. When he had finished there stood, exposed to view, one of the finest little three tube “unnamed circuit” sets I ever saw. It looked as though it was brand new; one of the sort of sets that was dear to Doc’s heart, for he often told me that it was much easier to sell a poor set that was shiny than a good set with the varnish worn off.

“Want to sell you this set,” said the young man airily.

He was that sort of youngster whom clothing manufacturers often use to drape their wares on in advertising matter. Tall, straight, black shiny hair as revealed when he suddenly jerked his hat off on observing the presence of a lady in the place, and clear cut, well chiseled features.

Doc looked at him and then looked over to where the girl, oblivious to everything was turning the dials on the five tube neutrodyne back and forth.

“Well,” said Doc grudgingly, addressing the young man, “I can’t give you very much for this set; you see, it’s an unnamed circuit and—”

“And that’s the best part of it,” interrupted the young man. “Right now everyone is buying the ‘unnamed circuit,’ and you know it. However, if that’s the way you feel about it—” He started calmly to wrap up the set again.

“Well, wait,” interrupted Doc, “I didn’t say how much I’d give you yet, did I? Never go away without getting the other man’s figures first. How much do you want for it?”

“How much will you give me?” snapped the young man.

“You’re selling the set,” Doc reminded him.

“Will you give me sixty-five dollars?”

Doc looked pained.

“There’s a law in this city,” he said, “against highway robbery; surely you don’t want to take advantage of a man of my years? Somebody’s gone and told you about my soft heart. It’s cost me many a dollar I’ll tell you!”

Wordlessly the young man started again to wrap up the set

“Wait, wait,” said Doc, hastily. “I’ll give you fifty dollars for it”

“Nothing stirring!” snapped the young man. “I will come down a little though; I’ll let you have it for fifty-five.”

Doc looked very sad, and I, full knowing that the argument might last half an hour, summoned up all my courage and walked over to the young lady, who had thus far been unsuccessful in securing an out of town station.

“May I help you?” I said, with my heart beating like a trip-hammer in my breast, frightened to death for fear she might answer frigidly “Sir!” But she did no such thing.

“Why, that’s very kind of you,” she said graciously, turning a smile upon me that made me feel quite certain that I could pick up Piccadilly for her without any trouble. To cover my confusion I turned to the knobs and started frantically to turn them.

Sure enough, very shortly, came the words “Cocoanut Grove,” and then a crash of sounds, but I knew I was close to a California station and I began to feel a little of the excitement which comes when you’re very near a station like that.

To give himself a chance to think things over, and also for the psychological effect upon the young man, Doc walked over to where we stood tuning and took me aside. By this time I had the station almost in line and I turned the set over to the girl to finish the job, which she started to do with much interest.

“Listen,” said Doc to me in an impish whisper. “What do you think of those two? Prettiest girl in the neighborhood and finest looking young man around here. If I could bring them together I’d give the girl that five tube set for a wedding present; it would make a peach of an advertisement for the store, eh, what?”

“Suppose,” I suggested coldly, and with some heat, “that you just attend to your own business, which is cheating helpless young people who come in here to buy and sell radio sets.”

Doc looked pained for a moment, then he burst out laughing and slapped me on the back.

“So that’s the way it is!” he roared. Then, in an aside: “All right, you know I take the address and phone number of every customer; there may be a chance for you; hope to goodness there is. She is the kind that would keep a man from loafing around radio stores at night and casting aspersions on the proprietors.”

With that he was gone, back over to where the young man stood frowning at the set he seemingly hated to part with at the price offered. I went back to the girl’s side, a little bolder now after the effect of my first effort.

“Perhaps we can get Frisco, too,” I suggested. “Here, I’ll show you how to go about it.”

With that I took one of her dainty little white hands—it felt as soft and cool as the petal of a rose—and placed it upon the dial. Putting my arm around behind her back I took her other hand and placed it upon the potentiometer.

She colored and laughed prettily, and I colored and trembled frightfully, but, sure enough, after a moment we began to hear squawks which sounded like Frisco. Hurriedly I threw the dials out of adjustment; I had no intention of picking up Frisco so promptly. I wanted it to be a long-drawn out process.

Presently I heard Doc making the concluding remarks with which he always wound up a sale or a purchase, and suddenly, at this juncture the girl, apparently forgetting me, spoke up.

“Well, Dr. Edwards,” she said, “I like this set, but I won’t pay you one cent over fifty dollars for it.” There was an air of very definite finality about her remark, and Doc did one of those surprising things which make it interesting to watch him.

“Sold,” he said, without further quibbling.

I happened to have been in the store the day he bought the set the girl was taking, and I knew that he had paid forty-five dollars for it, so I didn’t say anything, as I certainly should have done it he had charged her too much for it.

“Will you wrap the set up for her?” asked Doc.

“Certainly,” I agreed quickly, “and carry it home for her too if she’ll let me.”

She blushed and smiled prettily, but answered nothing. Silence is ample consent, I said to myself. As I finished wrapping the thing up and put it under my arm Doc was counting out fifty-five dollars to the young man.

A strange thing happened then. The young man picked up a five dollar bill and put it in his billfold; the rest of the money he shoved back at Doc Edwards.

“Why!” breathed Doc. “What’s—what’s the idea?”

“It’s yours,” retorted the young man angrily.

“Mine?”

“Sure,” snapped the young man. “That lady is my wife; I’m paying for her set. I suppose if we came in here to exchange a three tube for a five tube set you’d have soaked us about twenty-five dollars to boot. We heard all about you, you old horse thief, before we came over here; so, for once, you can consider that you had something put over on you.”

I stood there with my mouth gaping as the young man walked over, snatched the bundle out from under my arm—and then suddenly another strange thing happened. I dreamed that I was looking into an immense loud speaker and that I could see all the stars in the heavenly firmament at once, and some of them were jumping around playing leap-frog; acting, in fact, so as almost to bear out Doc’s theory which I had so often scoffed at.

THE END

Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the June 27, 1925 issue of Argosy All-Story Weekly magazine.