One of these was
an analysis of the national business character.
"We Americans," he wrote, "are natural merchandisers. We care less for
the making of a thing than for the selling of it. Salesmanship is the
great American game. It calls forth all our native genius; it is the
expression of our originality, our inventiveness, our ingenuity, our
idealism," and so on, for a full column slathered with deadly and
self-betraying encomiums. For the Reverend Bland believed heartily that
the market was the highest test of humankind. _He_ would rather sell a
thing than make it! In fact, anything made with any other purpose than
to sell would probably not be successful, and would fail to make its
author prosperous; therefore it must be wrong. Not the creator, but the
salesman was the modern evangel.
"The Booblewarbler has given away the game," commented Severance with
his slight, ironic smile, the day when this naive effusion appeared.
"He's right, of course. But he thinks he's praising when he's damning."
Banneker was disturbed. But the flood of letters which came in promptly
reassured him. The Reverend editorializer was hailed broadcast as the
Messiah of the holy creed of Salesmanship, of the high cult of getting
rid of something for more than it is worth.
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