Page 158 - The Legacy of Abraham Rothstein - text

Early days in Los Angeles

the First Street district, sell his merchandise right there on First or
Vignes Street, and go home with two to five dollars profit.
It was not a lucrative or respectable business. There were no
garages, factories, and machine shops like today, where one buys a
quantity of scrap metal—as it is called today, or junk, as it was known
at that time. It had to be bought from private homes. One had to
travel with the horse and wagon through narrow dirty alleys, singing
all the time the junk melody, which was similar to the song of the
sexton who used to follow a funeral carriage with a pushke calling for
alms. It was humiliating to hear the children and grownups imitating
the song and laughing at the poor and hungry peddler. My brother,
who had a few days experience peddling junk with another peddler,
advised me not to lose time and the last of my money, but to buy a
horse and wagon and join the business world.
As little experience as I had in buying junk, I had still less
experience in horse buying and selling. You can buy an old car, drive
it yourself, speed up and tell how much power and stability it has; but
a horse? You have to be born in a stable or serve as a groom and live
with them for years. Although the horse has no carburetor, ignition,
clutch, and gear troubles, it is difficult for an ordinary man to learn
their peculiarities. The complications are few, but they are vital.
Knowledge of dental, respiratory, and muscular conditions is an
absolute necessity. The teeth tell the horse’s age, which is a primary
thing when one buys a horse; I learned that from experience, and of
course I paid for the experience. That experience I gained on the
second trade. On the first horse I paid well for a double experience,
and all these payments came out of my last one hundred dollars,
which I guarded so closely.
My brother, who was my guide and advisor, took me down to an
auction house on Los Angeles Street between Second and Third
streets, where the wholesale houses are located today. A well-known
auctioneer, Mr. Watkins, an elderly man with a cowboy hat and a
whip in his hand, was in charge of that place. When a horse was put
up for sale, it was taken out on Los Angeles Street, which had a soft
oily pavement, not like today’s concrete. Horses could not gallop
there, but ran at the lead of a young groom, accompanied by a good
whip or two by Mr. Watkins, which he gave cum laude to the
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