I Doze But Never Close

CHAPTER 12

I DOZE BUT NEVER CLOSE

“Man does not only sell commodities, he sells himself and feels himself to be a commodity.”
Erich Fromm, Escape from Freedom

Granddaddy Martin’s business slogan was “I Doze But Never Close,” and he advertised that message on a huge metal sign that hung in his front yard along Route 608 in Bedford County. He was a livestock trader who loved to wheel and deal. According to my father, Granddaddy was widely known in livestock circles throughout Southwestern Virginia. Once, I had the opportunity to test his claim. A listener had called my radio station on a business matter, and our conversation drifted to our origins and, oddly enough, to our respective grandfathers. The caller’s grandfather had also been a cattle dealer in the southern portion of the state, so, instinctively, I said that I was Pop Martin’s grandson, and then waited for his reaction. To my delight, the caller said that, of course, he had heard of Pop. He had even met him. His own grandfather, a fellow “penhooker” as they were sometimes called, had traded with Granddaddy. Both men, he said with a smile in his voice, had stolen from and lied to one another their whole lifetimes!

Beneath the catchphrase on Granddaddy’s sign were the words “Cattle Trader,” and though horses, cattle and saddles were his specialty, he would sell anything. Once, in a local country store, a customer admired his work boots and offered to buy them. Without hesitation, Granddaddy took them off, sold them on the spot, then drove home, unabashed, in his sock feet. At the American Viscose factory in Roanoke where he worked during the 1940's and 1950's as a shift laborer, he would sell produce and other wares from the back of his pickup as a carnival barker would entice passersby to come in for a show. He entertained his co-workers with typical shyster hard luck stories of having a sick wife and barefoot children, and his humor paid off well. If Granddaddy Martin were living today, he would have had a computer in his home. Furthermore, I am convinced that, like me, he would have been a fan of eBay. He was afraid neither of change nor new frontiers. My father said that he tried all of the new farming techniques for his time and owned one of the first pickups, refrigerators, radios and, later, TVs seen in Moneta. During a time when many farmers tried to eke out a living on small farms with tobacco allotments, he left the care of his farm to his own father and his sons while he commuted to Roanoke each day on twisted country roads to the American Viscose factory. Even during the Depression, his family was well-cared for. Each time I log onto to eBay, I think of him and realize that a part of him lives in me. I know that the digital age, particularly the virtual marketplace, would have fascinated him.
On my desk at work is a plastic bag full of small rocks that were supposedly extracted from a South American gem mine. Although I see distinct veins of a green substance that might, through the rock-tumbling process, yield a precious stone, I look occasionally at the small pile of earth and laugh because I paid twenty dollars for a bag of rocks. But, I know why I bought them. Even the best wheeler-dealer can be bamboozled by a good talk, or, in this case, a good, written description. We have all been taken by a fast, convincing talker, even Pop Martin. My paternal grandfather claims to have been the only man in the community that ever caught him off his guard.

One summer morning in the late 1950s, both of my grandfathers met each other while traveling on Route 64, now Tuck Road. Granddaddy Martin waved him over to discuss a cattle deal. He understood that my granddad had a few cattle to sell and he wanted to buy them “sight unseen.” He pulled some cash from his pocket, leaned his arm out of his truck and counted it out for my Granddad Arthur, who was in his truck, too. Doc Arthur knew the cattle were not worth what he was being offered, but Granddaddy Martin, assuming that this construction superintendent knew nothing about own cattle, was insistent. So, the transaction was completed, and each man went his own way.
Granddaddy Martin, anxious to see his bargain, then went down to my grandfather’s barn to inspect his purchase. Since he was alone, no one witnessed his first reaction to his blunder, but my father says that he saw him back at his own house about an hour later, laying down in the front yard, moaning. Doc Arthur proudly told that story for the rest of his life.
Granddaddy Martin died when I was six years old, but from what I have heard about him, I can realize that he understood how and why people buy things. Though he would have liked eBay because you could buy and sell merchandise for profit, eBay could not offer him the one element of the sale that he needed: people. He loved face-to-face interaction; it was his specialty, and he relished it. Granddaddy loved people and he loved life. My Uncle Willard once spoke to him of a future world population explosion to which he replied, “Well, as long as there’s standin’ room, I’ll be happy!” He loved to be the center of attention and people were drawn to him, and his personality required him to be with people. But, at the end of a day of salesmanship and showmanship, I can see him checking his very own auction page, just like I do. The one thing that he would have absolutely loved about eBay is that he could sell his merchandise, collect his money, and not even be present. He could doze, and never close.