The reprinted paragraph below was the way TIME Writer Osborn Elliott began the Business essay in the Jan. 25 issue of TIME. After it appeared, TIME'S Washington correspondent George B. Bookman decided to check with Commerce Secretary Sinclair Weeks to see if any auto salesman had taken the hint. This is what Bookman reported:

"Bright and early on the Thursday morning that TIME'S Jan. 25 issue reached subscribers, the telephone rang in the office of Secretary Weeks. On the wire was an automobile salesman who had read the TIME report. The salesman, who was telephoning from

South Bend, Ind., made a strong pitch to Weeks to buy a 1954 Studebaker. The salesman's name: Paul Hoffman, chairman of the board of the Stude baker Corp.

"Ever since that first phone call from Salesman Hoffman, Sinclair Weeks has been besieged by a steady stream of telephone calls, letters, telegrams and personal visits from auto salesmen eager to prove to him that salesmanship still flourishes. 'Here's one salesman who is rising from the dead . . .' was the way a California dealer began his telegram. At least two dozen salesmen, like Hoffman, used the telephone technique, and some have phoned several times to follow up their first sales efforts. Long-distance calls have come from such widely scattered points as Lubbock, Texas, Detroit, Minneapolis, and Mt. Lebanon, Pa.

"Squads of local salesmen from the Washington area called in person at Weeks's office and left their lavishly illustrated '54 sales brochures. Wrote one man on the calling card he left with a Buick folder: 'After reading the TIME article, I decided to conduct a personal sales campaign.' A telegram from one dealer in Eureka, Calif, tried flattery: 'A man in your position should definitely buy a Nash "Airflyte." ' A dealer from Indianapolis wired his direct pitch, making traditional use of the salesman's superlative: 'I herewith ask you to buy America's greatest car for value, power, economy and styling--a 1954 Chevrolet. Advise.' "A Washington, D.C. dealer resorted to two pages of blank verse and enclosed a key to a new Studebaker sedan for the Secretary and Mrs. Weeks. A young local salesman wrote that he had been selling cars for only a year and added, 'If I may have this opportunity to give you a demonstration, I will strive to live up to your expectations of a salesman and sell you.' A Plymouth-DeSoto dealer from Boston waved the old-school tie (Harvard) at Alumnus Weeks. A resourceful Hamilton, Ohio dealer pointed out that Hamilton was 500 miles from Washington but offered to drive a new car to the capital for Weeks, '. . . saving you the tedious task of breaking it in.' Most imaginative salesman of all, probably, was an insurance man from Baltimore who wrote, 'Of course you will need some insurance on these automobiles. We offer . . .'

"Two weeks after publication of the TIME article, the letters and phone calls were still coming in. The only one of the eager salesmen who got through to Weeks personally was his old friend Paul Hoffman. But as yet, not even Hoffman has made a sale. Said he: 'I put all the heat on him I knew how.'

"Even at a meeting of President Eisenhower's Cabinet, Secretary Weeks could not escape from the sales campaign. Three members of the Cabinet who used to be in the automobile busi ness (Defense Secretary Wilson, Interior Secretary McKay and Postmaster General Summerfield, all of General Motors) ribbed fellow Cabinet Mem ber Weeks about buying a car.

"To Commerce Secretary Weeks, a large part of whose job is to watch the business horizon, the whole episode was very heartening." Said Weeks, I was certainly impressed with the alertness shown by salesmen to develop what they thought was a sales opportunity.

Such aggressive salesmanship, if applied everywhere, should have a stimulating effect on the economy.' "Which car would Weeks buy and when? Reported Bookman: "Like any canny sales prospect, Sinclair Weeks so far has just smiled and kept his own counsel."

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