Perkins of Portland: Perkins The Great — Reading Notes

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In Category - Science Fiction Utopias

Authors: Butler, Ellis Parker, 1869-1937 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2013 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Humorous stories; Advertising -- Fiction Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 27,249

Reading time 119 min

Text sections 4

This digital edition of Perkins of Portland: Perkins The Great — Reading Notes is described by source-level measurements including 27,249 words, 1 hr 59 min estimated reading time, and 4 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 14.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Humorous stories,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #44151

Ellis Parker Butler's 1906 comic novel follows the unnamed narrator's encounters with Perkins, a manic advertising genius who invents jingles and schemes in Cleveland. The excerpts show Perkins's peculiar appearance, his obsession with slogans like 'Perkins's Patent Porous Plaster Makes all pains and aches fly faster,' and his outlandish promotional stunts, including painting ads under automobiles and using a poet to sell cod-liver capsules.

Editorial Edition Score 4.6/5

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Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
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Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
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Edition quality

File: pg44151

Read the Text

I can never repay you. I can never even thank you. I will advertise. I'll go right into the house and write out an order for space in every paper you represent. How many papers do you represent, Perkins?”

“Perhaps,” he said, gently, “we had better begin small. Perhaps we had better begin with a hundred or so. There is no use overdoing it. I have over a thousand papers on my list; and if the lop-eared brand of guinea-pig shouldn't be as fond of large families as the common guinea-pig is--if it should turn out to be a sort of fashionable American family kind of guinea-pig, you know--you might have trouble filling orders.”

But Silas Boggs was too enthusiastic to listen to calm advice. He waved his arms wildly above his head.

“No! no!” he shouted. “All, or none, Perkins! No half-measures with Silas Boggs! No skimping! Give me the whole thousand! I know what advertising is--I've had experience. Didn't I advertise for a position as vice-president of a bank last year--and how many replies did I get? Not one! Not one! Not one, Perkins! I know, you agents are always too sanguine. But I don't ask the impossible. I'm easily satisfied. If I sell one pair for each of the thousand papers I'll be satisfied, and I'll consider myself lucky. And as for the lop-eared guinea-pigs--you furnish the papers, and the guinea-pigs will do the rest!”

Thus, in the face of Perkins's good advice, Silas Boggs inserted a small advertisement in the entire list of one thousand country weeklies, and paid cash in advance. To those who know Perkins the Great to-day, such folly as going contrary to his advice in advertising matters would be unthought of. His word is law. To follow his advice means success; to neglect it means failure.

He is infallible. But in those days, when his star was but rising above the horizon, he was not, as he is now, considered the master and leader of us all--the king of the advertising world--mighty giant of advertising genius among the dwarfs of imitation. So Silas Boggs refused his advice.

The next month the advertisement of the Silas Boggs Lop-eared Guinea-pigs began to appear in the weekly newspapers of the West. The advertisement, although small, was well worded, for Perkins wrote it himself. It was a gem of advertising writing. It began with a small cut of a guinea-pig, which, unfortunately, appeared as a black blot in many of the papers; but this, perhaps, lent an air of mystery to the cut that it would not otherwise have had. The text was as follows:

“The Celebrated Lop-eared Andalusian Guinea-pigs! Hardy and prolific! One of nature's wonders! Makes a gentle and affectionate pet. For young or old. YOU CAN MAKE MONEY by raising and selling Lop-eared Andalusian Guinea-pigs. One pair starts you in business. Send money-order for $10 to Silas Boggs, 5986 Cottage Grove Avenue, Chicago, HI., and receive a healthy pair, neatly boxed, by express.”

To Silas Boggs the West had theretofore been a vague, colorless expanse somewhere beyond the West Side of Chicago. Three days after his advertisements began to appear, he awoke to the fact that the West is a vast and mighty empire, teeming with millions of souls. And to Silas Boggs it seemed that those souls had been sleeping for ages, only to be called to life by the lop-eared Andalusian guinea-pig. The lop-eared Andalusian guinea-pig was the one touch that made the whole West kin. Mail came to him by tubfuls and basketfuls. People who despised and reviled the common guinea-pig were impatient and restless because they had lived so long without the sweet companionship of the lop-eared Andalusian. From Tipton, Ia., and Vida, Kan., and Chenawee, Dak., and Orangebloom, Cal., came eager demands for the hardy and prolific lop-ear. Ministers of the gospel and babes in arms insisted on having the gentle and affectionate Andalusian lop-eared guinea-pigs.

The whole West arose in its might, and sent money-orders to Silas Boggs. And Silas Boggs opened the letters as fast as he could, and smiled. He piled the blue money-orders up in stacks beside him, and smiled. Silas Boggs was one large, happy smile for one large, happy week. Then he frowned a little.

Continue Reading →

From the first meeting in the Golden Hotel, Perkins is a man defined by his creations. His shoes are 'Go-lightly,' his hat 'Pratt's Hats Air the Hair,' and his suit 'Ready-tailored'—each term he claims to have originated. The narrator is immediately subjected to a recitation of the couplet for Perkins's Patent Porous Plaster, a jingle Perkins insists is unforgettable. This opening establishes a pattern: Perkins's identity is inseparable from his advertising slogans, and his peculiarities are both comic and relentless.

The Man Behind the Slogans

Perkins's peculiarities are cataloged from the start: rubber-soled shoes, a hat with 'mansard ventilators,' and ill-fitting clothes that make him look like 'a composite picture.' His first act is to thrust an envelope under the narrator's nose, demanding attention to his couplet. The narrator's passivity contrasts with Perkins's manic energy, a dynamic that persists throughout the excerpts. Perkins boasts of making millions for others but claims to be 'done' with that—though his subsequent schemes suggest otherwise. The reader is left to wonder whether Perkins is a genius or a charlatan, or both.

Advertising as Performance

The automobile episode reveals Perkins's method: he paints 'Don't swear. Drink Glenguzzle' on the undersides of cars, forcing drivers to see it while lying underneath. The narrator, coerced into performing this act in public, feels 'idiotic' but cannot deny the effectiveness. The crowd's applause and the narrator's eventual enthusiasm—'It's glorious!'—show how Perkins's absurdity wins converts. This stunt exemplifies his belief that the ad is everything, even at the cost of personal dignity.

Love and Rivalry in Business

In the poet episode, the narrator's romantic pursuit of Kate is thwarted by a Chicago poet. Perkins's advertising logic—'you can't key your ad nor guarantee your circulation'—is applied to love, with the narrator losing out despite his 'follow-up system of bonbons and flowers.' The episode underscores the novel's satirical view of human relations as markets, where even poetry is a commodity. Perkins's own jingle for Codliver Capsules ('The pink capsules for the pale corpuscles') shows his ability to reduce everything to a slogan.

Structure and Voice

The novel is structured as a series of 'adventures,' each showcasing a new Perkins scheme. The narrator's voice is colloquial and self-deprecating, often marveling at Perkins's audacity. Butler uses repetition of phrases like 'Perkins of Portland' and 'Perkins the Great' to reinforce the character's self-mythology. The excerpts suggest a pattern: Perkins invents a product or jingle, the narrator is reluctantly enlisted, and chaos ensues. The humor derives from the gap between Perkins's grand claims and the mundane or ridiculous outcomes.

Readers should approach Perkins of Portland: Perkins The Great as a series of comic set-pieces rather than a plotted novel. The narrator's bewilderment is the reader's entry point into Perkins's world of relentless promotion. Pay attention to how Butler uses advertising language as both content and form—the jingles are not just jokes but structural devices. The incomplete excerpts leave the full arc of Perkins's schemes unclear, but the pattern of invention and reaction is consistent.

Reading about Perkins, I remembered the summer I spent selling ads door-to-door, my own silly jingle stuck in my head. It felt like a private secret, same as when I first opened The Pastor's Fire-side Vol. 1 (of 4) — Context and Discussion, that old warmth of conviction in another era’s schemes. There’s comfort in such stubborn earnestness, even folly.