During the Summer months I paid a few visits to Joliet to see for myself how the stock was coming on. I found Mr. Hartshorn in high spirits. Everything was coming along splendidly, no need worrying about it. Why, Fiancée was a wonder, a wonder indeed! Poor man, he never suspected for a moment what troubles his "wonder" had in store for him.
Another Carnation Failure
January came. There was a scramble for the cuttings from all growers everywhere, each one expecting his stock ordered a year before. But alas, there were no cuttings in sight. Letters became more frequent and more urgent; some buyers insisted upon getting their stock immediately without threats; others accompanied their demands with threats to withdraw all their future trade from me. Here was a dilemma that I had to face. A second Nelson, only somewhat more complicated.
I wrote to Mr. Hartshorn, at one time imploringly, at another almost threateningly, enclosing my customers' letters to prove to him how dire was the situation in which I was placed. But all my communications were met with silence. I wired. At last a letter came. With trembling hands I opened the envelope, and found the following:
"Don't tell us of your troubles. We have plenty of our own."
My heart sank. But rising to the occasion, I decided at once to make a trip to Joliet. I arrived early in the morning, and immediately made my way to the establishment of the Chicago Carnation Company. Jim Hartshorn was not as yet in the office. I could see a pile of letters strewn about his desk, which I surmised had considerable to do with the ill-fated Fiancée. I went through the green-houses and learned that the "blame thing" was a mighty poor rooter, and that Fiancée in general was not what it was cracked up to be; that they split "like the devil," and had many other attributes unworthy of a "wonder."
Mr. Hartshorn came in. I took him to task; but poor man, he looked so forlorn and dejected. He began to unfold to me a tale of woe that could not but awaken my sympathy for him. But something had to be done. I had a few especially urgent customers on the list, who wanted their stock, as it were, "dead or alive." I told him about it; and if he could give me enough cuttings to satisfy those insistent ones, I would be grateful to him for the rest of my natural days. Furthermore, I was ready to give him a check for all the stock he could give me, right on the spot. Jimmie accepted my proposition. Yes, he had a batch of cuttings that looked quite promising, a batch of about ten or twelve thousand, ready to be taken up now. And although he promised this stock to another house that kept after him without any let-up, he would let me have them. I was glad I had made the trip.
After glancing through a few of his letters he cast them aside as something unworthy of notice and asked me to accompany him to his club. There we sat for the remainder of the day, alternating drinks with sandwiches, and telling each other tales of woe in our experience with Carnation cuttings.
Jim Hartshorn told of many experiences with Carnation cuttings and of the failure of Fiancée in particular. Among other things Mr. Hartshorn told me that the letters he received daily, taking him to task for the non-fulfilment of his promises, would suffice to break down a Sandow in physique or a Bismarck in iron will power.
"Why," he concluded, "the people are crazy! Can't they understand that Fiancée is a disappointment to me? Why don't they shut up and let up, instead of hounding me to death? Let us have another drink and drown our troubles."
A few other drinks were swallowed before we parted, never to meet again.
