Modern Hill Woman

“Mom, it’s the Watkins man!” We kids were always excited to see his old white panel van pull into the driveway once a month. Dolph Lunn was a dark haired talkative man who sometimes wore a fedora hat. He’d drag out his old dog-eared display case of worn-out leather from the back of his van and haul it in the house. He was tall and gangly, and when he sat down in the kitchen chair that mom had provided for him his knees nearly touched his chin. We all gathered in a circle around him as he opened up his magic case to show us what new treasures he had this month. He almost always showed up at dinner time, probably hoping for a free meal, since mom’s cooking was legendary in the area.

Mom bought most of her flavorings, especially their world famous vanilla, from him. She had a cupboard full of Watkins spices and a Watkins cookbook. Their red liniment, a mixture of evergreen and red pepper, was a staple of our medicine cabinet along with their salve. We kids begged Mom to buy popsicle molds and gallon jugs of Watkins grape syrup to mix with water and freeze in the summertime.

After we shared a meal with him, daddy would have us girls congregate at the piano to sing Dolph a few church songs. Then he was on the road again until next month.

Bearing suitcases full of products including spices, ointments, cleaning, and beauty supplies, the Watkins men journeyed through the back roads of our country beginning in 1868 by horse and wagon, and then later by automobile. People were excited to see them, to purchase supplies and hoping to hear some news about what was happening in the community. They generally stayed for supper and were given a bed for the night.

The Watkins men along with the Fuller Brush men were the last of an American tradition of itinerant peddlers who walked farmhouse to farmhouse in the old days selling “household notions.”

The days of door-to-door salesmen are over, but Watkins products are still sold online and in select stores.