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George Packwood entered the arena of merchandising by offering a plain old leather strop to his customers. But he added several elements that made his product a success. He recognized the value of advertising and in "self" promotion, he made his name and his products as familiar as whiskers. But then he invented something that was far more important - It was fine to sell a single strop, but what if you could sell a product that reconditioned the strop and that product had to be repurchased from time to time. Credit is given to Gillette for giving away the razor but selling the blades; well George Packwood started the practice in 1796!
No business school should pass by the lessons that are taught by Packwood. Here are just a few that are gleaned from his tiny book Packwood advertised his products in as many of the different publications as possible, always with a bit of humor or a twist. Then he assembled a group of his advertisements into a book and sold the book. Eat your heart out Madison Avenue!
The title page of his book is reproduced herewith -
Note: An half crown was indeed placed in the middle of the book. It is there today! Beginning on page 23 is an anecdote entitled An Half-Crown.
AN HALF CROWN
An Anecdote
Benevolence is a plant of quick growth, Eugenius, its delightful fragrance often rises from the young heart, and cheers the fainting child of sorrow; - I will give thee an example, and if thou doest not weep, I shall no longer boast that our souls are congenial; but, do I not know thee, my friend, thou thyself art a man o f sorrow and acquainted with grief, the drops of sympathy will trickle down thy cheeks; wipe them not away, Eugenius, they smooth the wrinkles of age: Dorinda, the eldest daughter of Mr. W� , has just entered her thirteenth year, she has heard the voice of adulation from a thousand tongues, but her ears incline to that of supplicating misery. One day in the dreary month of November, a load of fuel was laid at her father's door, a pale emaciated female offered her service to house it; the customary reward was but small, but what will not extreme want submit to: in the midst of this toilsome occupation, a heavy shower of rain obliged the distresses done to seek shelter beneath the hospitable roof of Mr. W� . Dorinda was at that moment following her mother across the hall, struck with the wretched object, they both stopped, and Mrs. W � , in the gentle tone of humanity, begged the poor woman would walk into the kitchen. Hast thou ever, Eugenius, in thy ramble through the unfrequented haunts of misery, seen a true portrait of complicated woe? Think thou seest it now pictured to thy imagination; a woman yet in the prime of years sinking beneath the weight of sickness, poverty, and dejection, scarce able to support her tottering frame, yet courting the meanest offices of labour for a scanty pittance to supply nature's immediate cravings, and through a countenance clouded with anguish, displaying the native traits of innocence and candour; such was the female who now walked, or rather crawled, into Mr. W ��s kitchen. Pray sit down, said Mrs. W �, "you seem extremely ill?" "I am, indeed madam, very ill, but I hope I shall be better bye the bye." "I hope so too, but you look quite faint, what is the matter with you?" "Alas, madam, it is but a fortnight since I laid in of a dear little boy, I have left it at home in the care of my eldest child, a girl of seven years old, and weak as you now see me I have ventured out that I might earn a little bread; if it does not please the Almighty to afford me strength sufficient to perform my task, I hope he will spare my life a few hours, and enable me to rejoin my children, that we may perish together." Dorinda sighed, screened herself behind her mother, and took her handkerchief and applied it to her eyes. "And why, said Mrs. W �, are you obliged to come out while you are so ill, is your husband dead?" "God forbid, I hope not; but indeed I know not where he is; poor man, I fear his mind is much unsettled on account of the distress into which he has brought his family. A few months ago we lived near Bolton, my husband earned ten shillings a week by weaving, and I could get about three shillings and six-pence by winding, we had plenty of good bread and cheese, with butter-milk and potatoes for the children all the week, and on Sunday we could afford a piece of meat for dinner, and a comfortable dish of tea in the afternoon. Oh, we were the happiest people in the world, my children were as clean as the best lady's in the la d, and I looked on them with such pride and delight, but I shall never look so again; I was too proud, and it has pleased God to humble me." The tear filled her eye, but Dorinda saw it not, her's were at that moment too dim to discover any object. The poor woman continued her narrative � "Somebody or other, God forgive them, told my dear husband as how that if he would come to London he might get better pay for his work; you know, madam, every man who has a family is willing to do his best for them, we saved a little money and came hither; but lack a day, madam, there is very little weaving done here, he could get no employ, but now and then an odd job, such as getting in coals or running of errands; we paid eighteen pence a week for a little cellar near Bishopsgate-street, sometimes we had a bit of dry bread, and sometimes we were almost famished; my poor dear husband would look at his little babes and sigh, and then he would talk in such a melancholy way about going to sea, that my heart was like to burst; at last he came home one evening with two shillings and a penny oat-cake, which he divided into equal shares, and then he kissed us all, and looked quite happy; the next morning he went out early, and tho' it is full three months ago, we have neither seen or heard anything of him since. Oh, would to God he had staid with us, we would have toiled day and night, and been contented with a little; but he is gone, and perhaps we shall never see him again; my poor children have not had a morsel to eat these two days, and their father will see them no more before they die." Dorinda's handkerchief had been useless some time, the tears had coursed one another too fast down her innocent cheeks, sacred be the ground where they fell, and may no unfeeling mortal presume to trample on that hallow'd spot. The story was now become too pathetic, Dorinda left the room, but where did she go � not to her chamber to indulge a burst of grief � not to a circulating library, to divert it with a modern novel � Dorinda went to her desk what to do there? Says Eugenius. I will tell thee, there lay a little hoard, a precious half-crown, once perhaps destined to purchase a ribband, or some fashionable gewgaw, but it was reserved for a nobler purpose: It was the whole of Dorinda's little stock � she took it up and kissed I, smiling through her tears. Softly stealing down stairs, she hasted into the kitchen, and unperceived by any, but a fond mother's attentive eye, slipt the HALF-CROWN into the poor woman's hand, with a promise she would use her interest with her friend Mr. PACKWOOD to procure her some employ for the present in his Manufactory.* There was no pride or ostentation, no wish for thanks � in this, it was the pure movement of the purest benevolence, and Dorinda must remember it with pleasure as long as she lives, and all who hears this story, I hope will agree with me, as a reward, to wish her a good husband, that she may enjoy comfort and felicity here, and everlasting happiness hereafter. Need I add, that Mrs. W � seconded her kindness of her daughter, and that both exerted their utmost efforts to make the poor family happy.
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* GEORGE PACKWOOD'S Manufactory for the celebrated RAZOR STROPS and PASTE, No 16, Gracechurch-street, London; where a number of Families are kept constantly employed.
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So George Packwood writes a tear-jerker, shows sympathy of the good family, finds the poor woman employment, and promotes his product, all this in about the time it takes to run a thirty second commercial on tv.
The small book of some forty-six pages is mostly a pasting together of small advertisements that Packwood placed in various papers. The advertisements took the form of poetry, dialogue between friends, servants or acquaintances, songs, short stories (such as the one above), and of course information about his product, where it was manufactured or where it might be purchased.
The address of his business was promoted as the"Naked Truth" which has a subtle message for the public. Of course truth be told, but "naked"; that gets the thoughts to turning.
Best as can be determined from the advertisements, the paste was made up into small balls and sold in a tin, thus the Goldfinch's Nest. The razor strop was to be smeared with the paste and this deposited a fine grit which was probably a clay onto the strop. From time to time the user was told to lubricate the strop with an oil. The advantage of forming the paste into small balls is that the user would not be moved to use just a dab of the paste if it had been sold like petroleum jelly or such. This almost guaranteed repeat sales.
So widely was the product promoted and used that Barber Huggins in New York, prominently advertised that he used Packwood's Razor Strop and Paste. John Richard Desborus Huggins, the Empereur des Barbieries, Emperor de les modes, et Roi de Barbiers, &c;, &c;, &c;. also published his ads, in a book entitled Hugginiana, not unlike George Packwood..
When viewing the mindless ads on television, in the press and on the Internet, one must wonder when an advertising genius such as George Packwood or JRD Huggins will emerge to promote products, make a name for himself or herself and a fortune for the company that happens to uncover his/her talents.
Another of George Packwood's essays from Packwood's Whim not titled, but instead appeared as a letter to the editor of the Courier provides a bit of whimsey.
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Professor Gregory James* of Hong Kong University provided copies from the University's microfilm of this rare work by George Packwood. (Abe books offers a very unusual service for individuals seeking rare works such as this. If no one is offering a copy for sale, it is possible to search the world's libraries, using World Cat via Abe to find a library that may make the material available. Thanks Professor James, World Cat and Abe Books.)
* Author of Many a Slip..., a dictionary of shaky grounds and missed connections., published by Hong Kong University, 2001. (Try it you'll like it.)
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