As we've already said, the United States is the most expensive country in the world.

However, there is a big IF to this.

Because in many respects it is the cheapest country in the world.

It is the most expensive country if you attempt to keep up with the Joneses, if you insist on big houses in expensive areas, new cars and a yearly rash of new TV sets, refrigerators, deep freezes, vacuum cleaners and what not.

However, I know of no other place in the world where you can buy a good reliable used car for a hundred dollars. And you can in America. You can get an excellent used car in our country for that amount, and particularly in times of depression. I recall buying a four year old Packard, the first car I ever owned, for exactly $75. It was a monstrously large convertible coupe with four forward speeds.

I know of no other country where you can buy a reliable used refrigerator for $35 and I've done exactly that in the States. I know of no other country where you can buy an excellent used kitchen stove for $40, but I did exactly that in furnishing a New Mexico house once.

There is no country on earth that produces so cheaply good sturdy ready-to-wear clothing. A pair of American denims will outwear anything selling abroad for a comparable price, two or three times over.

Even food. True enough if you go into the super-market and buy filet mignon, you'll pay plenty. But if you have made a study of living economically and have learned to cook delicious dishes from the cheaper cuts of meat, you have it made in the United States like nowhere else. There is no place of which I know where chicken is cheaper and better than in America. It's a premium priced meat all over Europe. And did you know that in Europe tongue, heart, liver, brains, tripe, sweetbreads and particularly kidneys are premium priced? In many parts of our country these are used for dog and cat food, or even thrown away.

No, you can live cheaply and well in the United States if you make a hobby of it. If you seek out the cheaper sections of the nation and then pull every economy trick in the game.

The term bargain paradise is becoming increasingly popular these days as more and more people, in despair at our national way of life, search desperately for an alternative. Usually when we say bargain paradise our thoughts fly to countries beyond the horizon. To far Tahiti, to Spain, to the Canary Islands, Peru, or Austria.

In fact, it may come as a surprise to some that we have many a bargain paradise right here in our own land.

The term explains itself. Whether in the United States or abroad, a bargain paradise is an area where prices are low and scenery and climate are superlative. It's as simple as that.

And where are there such places in the United States?

All over.

New England, back away from the cities. For those, in par­ticular, who demand the changes in season New England (and up-state New York) is one of the most beautiful sections of our country.

The coastal area between Maryland and Florida. Hundreds of miles of picturesque beach. Fishing, swimming, boating. The further south you go, of course, the warmer the climate.

Florida, ruling out only the larger cities and the swank tourist resorts, is one big bargain paradise. It's cheap, it's beautiful. Its offerings are boundless to the retired sportsman or sportswoman.

The Gulf Coast between Florida and New Orleans. Cheap, warm, wonderful.

The Rio Grande Valley and in particular the lower stretch in the vicinity of McAllen where the climate is superior even to that of Florida.

New Mexico, Arizona, Southern Colorado. For those who love mountains, desert and wasteland. These states offer the glories of the West—and are bargain priced if you stay away from the popu­lation and tourist centers.

California, Oregon, Washington. Always staying away from the big cities and resorts, of course. Los Angeles and San Francisco can be as expensive as any city in the country, but little Grass Valley, tucked up in the High Sierras, is a bargain paradise indeed.

The Ozarks of Arkansas and Missouri are rapidly becoming one of the more popular bargain paradises, especially for those who wish a small farm on which to retire.

As I write this, I am sorry for the space limitation of this book. Each one of these sections of our land could easily use a full chapter to describe in proper detail. However, it will be possible to dispense with such treatment since full information is as near as your public library.

CASE HISTORY No. 1. This is one of my favorite examples of how a young couple without capital, broke out of the rat-race and started a project that in short order put them in a very nice income bracket even while they were living in one of the premium spots of the United States enjoying the tops in climate, recreation, com­panionship and the other attributes of a "paradise" here on earth.

Their names are Arthur and Phyllis Economou and a few years ago their business which they had developed in New York fell on bad times in spite of the fact that they had worked themselves to the point of collapse. Bankrupt, they left the north and went to Florida where Art had to look for any job at all to keep them going. In fact, he told me that at one time he washed dishes in a second rate restaurant.

But neither Art nor Phil are the types to wash dishes for a living—not for long. Art saw an opportunity, saved out of his meager earnings enough to get it going.

And thus the Florida Opportunity Bulletin was born.

The Economous estimated that there must be literally millions of people in the United States who would like either to retire or to get jobs in Florida. Many, many of these had probably been dream­ing of it, or even semi-planning it, for years. Art figured that they would pay to be shown the way.

He advertised a subscription to the Florida Opportunity Bulletin for $1 for six months in several northern newspapers in the classified sections. The ad went something like this (I can't quote it exactly):

Would you like to retire in Florida? Six month trial sub­scription to FLORIDA OPPORTUNITY BULLETIN, telling you job and investment opportunities. Articles giving you basic information on how to retire in glamorous Florida.

For the first few editions Art and Phil mimeographed the Bulletin getting their information from releases from the U.S. Employment Bureau, the Florida newspapers, from the library, from every book and magazine that they could find giving pertinent information on the subject.

The Bulletin was a success from the beginning. The subs that came in more than balanced all classified ad costs and the cost of mimeographing and mailing. The subscription list grew, grew and grew.

And suddenly Art realized that he had a saleable thing here for Floridian advertisers. He went around canvassing real estate agents and others who would be interested in these thousands of northerners who wanted to retire in the Southland.

And the ads that these dealers ran (especially at first) really pulled. Some of the Economou's advertisers claimed the Bulletin the best medium they had.

By now the Florida Opportunity Bulletin was being printed in magazine form and on slick paper. A local printer in Coral Gables (near Miami) did up the job for them, supplied them with necessary "cuts" to use as illustrations for ads and such.

Art and Phil took to running larger ads and considerably more of them in the northern papers using even such mediums as the Wall Street Journal. And, as the subscription list grew, so did the advertising value—and Art upped, and upped again the advertising rates.

Somewhat to their surprise, at first, Art and Phil found they were attracting a devoted following. Persons who had originally taken the trial subscription found they liked the breezy, newsy Florida Opportunity Bulletin and sent in for renewals, one and two year subs.

The project was getting too big for Art and Phil to write the whole thing by themselves, Phil being taken up almost full time with the circulation department and Art with gathering ads. So Art began having articles done for him by professional free lance writers. Sometimes cities such as Daytona Beach, Sarasota, Orlando or Key West—towns big enough to have publicity departments— would supply them with free articles and photographs.

And they stumbled upon another angle that netted them a pleasant additional income. They began advertising in their pages the various recently published books dealing with Florida. Through the publishing company they would get the usual dis­tributor's discount, forty to fifty percent and sometimes more if they ordered in very large quantities. An amazing number of their subscribers would order these $4 or $5 books.

By the time the publication was two or three years of age, Art and Phil decided it was just too much work for a two person team. Besides, Art had another project in mind. The magazine was at its peak, so they sold out at a very comfortable sum indeed, knocked off for a time to catch their breaths and relax, and then took off for new worlds to conquer.

CASE HISTORY No. 2. I don't want to give the impression that this book is limited to ideas for younger folk. I claim that you don't have to be sixty-five to retire, but, on the other hand, you don't have to be twenty-five either. This case history deals with Verne and Pauline Reynolds who were 57 and 51 respectively when the story begins in 1940.

They had been living in the Catskill Mountains in New York State during most of the depression and had made their way largely with odd jobs. At long last they saved enough to buy a rather small trailer and decided they might as well pull it down to Florida for a vacation. They figured that by living in the trailer and avoiding the big tourist centers they could do very cheaply in Florida and possibly afford to stay as long as two or three months.

Verne was an inveterate fisherman and had been all his life. He'd fish for anything that would take a hook but his preference was bass. This was largely to be a fishing vacation. You're not exactly a spring chicken at the age of 57 and you never know just how many years of fishing still remain. You might as well take every opportunity while you can.

So they toured Florida, living on a shoestring, and finally, their money running low, they headed back north—much to their regret.

One night, about a hundred miles south of Jacksonville on the St. Johns river and near the tiny town of Astor, they pulled their car and trailer up alongside the road and prepared to spend the night. It was still light out, but they liked to get parked in a good place while there was still time to cook and get squared away.

While Pauline worked in the tiny trailer "kitchen" Verne went over to take a look at the St. Johns River. He leaned on the bridge railing and looked down at a fisherman who was anchored below and catching somewhat silver colored fish about a foot long and weighing possibly a pound, with what seemed considerable ease and speed.

Verne said, "Don't believe I've ever seen those before. Good to eat?"

The fisherman looked up. "No. No, I'm catching them for bait."

Verne blinked. After all this was fresh water, not the ocean. He said, "Bait for what?"

"Bass."

Verne chuckled. He was being ribbed. "I've been a bass fisher­man all my life but I've never seen a bass that would take a fish that size."

So the fisherman (his name was Dick Flowers, and he is one of the best guides on the St. Johns) without a word opened up his live bait well, reached his hand inside and brought forth a big mouthed black bass that would have gone 13 or 14 pounds. Verne had never caught a bass, anywhere in his travels, that would have gone as much as five pounds. He whistled his amazement. Then scurried back to the trailer for his own tackle.

It turned out that Dick Flowers was catching Golden Shiners for a guiding job the next day. Before you could take a client fishing, you had to have a couple dozen of this bait and it wasn't as easy to catch them as it first looked. However, he took time out to show Verne the standard procedure. You caught them on bread on a tiny hook. You tossed a bit of bread, soaked in water, into the river to "chum them up" and then sat there and hauled them in —if you were lucky.

It turned out also that many sportsmen, especially the tourists from the north, had no time or patience to bother with catching shiners. They were willing to pay seventy-five cents a dozen for them. And, Dick Flowers informed Verne, you could easily sell all that you caught.

So Verne rented a boat that night and fished for shiners. He had beginner's luck and caught nearly three dozen. The next morning he was out bright and early after bass. He used up about six of his shiners and had moderately good luck in spite of the fact that he didn't know the river.

That evening he ran into Dick again who was interested to find that Verne had a couple of dozen shiners still on hand. He offered to buy them at the going rate, $1.50 for the two dozen.

Verne had a thoughtful look when he returned to the trailer. "You know, Pauline," he said. "If I could just catch a couple of dozen extra shiners a day, I could make enough to pay our grocery bills, and we could stay on a week or so enjoying this wonderful bass fishing."

He might not have known it, but that moment a business was born and one that in fifteen years was going to be worth tens of thousands of dollars.

It started off simply enough. Verne rented a row boat by the week and began fishing for shiners. He found it so fascinating that he more or less dropped the bass fishing for a time. He had a problem to lick. How to catch the wily Golden Shiner in large numbers. And he set about it in characteristic form.

He was soon catching so many that it was a problem keeping them alive until the customers showed up in the early morning hours. So he built a floating bait trap in which he could keep ten dozen or more at a time. And he needed it because in short order he was catching that number almost every day. However, the demand always exceeded the supply so he upped the price to a dollar a dozen and nobody complained. They were pleased to find a reliable supply of shiners.

Business grew and Pauline took over the selling of the shiners (their trailer was still parked in the same spot next to the bridge) and Verne bought himself a boat and later a used outboard motor so that he could get around faster. Business still grew and so did the storage problem.

At that time property in inland Florida was dirt cheap. In fact, you could pick up a great deal of it for taxes. Verne and Pauline bought 14 acres for $400, savings from the shiner business, and moved their trailer on it. The new camp was about three miles up river from Astor in a beautiful but very wild looking location. Verne, doing most of the labor himself, dug a big pond and filled it full of water. Into this he put his shiners, giving them more room than they'd had in the floating bait trap.

At first he had been throwing away all shiners that weren't the ideal size. But now, as business continued to boom, he hired a couple of the local negroes to dig another, larger pool, and stocked it with the small shiners, feeding them oatmeal to make them grow. Business was still booming so he upped the price of shiners to a dollar and a half.

One day a boat came floating down the river and Verne fished it out and in his spare time repaired it. That was his first boat for hire. A few years later there were twenty or more. Pauline mean­while had started another sideline for "pin money." Bass was the big game fish on the river but Speckled Perch (Crappie) also were a favorite and were caught on minnows. Pauline put out minnow traps and sold them at the rate of 25^ a dozen. Fishermen usually bought them at the rate of four to eight dozen at a time.

This sideline became so profitable that they dug some new pools and used them for breeding minnows by the tens of thousands.

Business still boomed. For the first time fishermen could be reasonably sure of finding shiners any time they wanted to fish. They would drive a hundred miles and more for the Reynolds Camp shiners.

Verne brought in some bulldozers and had some really big pools dug. This time he let it be known that he would buy shiners, no matter what size. So local people in spare time would go out and fish for shiners. He paid them 50$ a dozen for small ones, a dollar a dozen for large ones. Verne had a big advantage over the other shiner fishermen. His pools enabled him to store his bait until customers came—while they had to sell theirs immediately or run the risk of their dying in the bait wells of the boats in which they'd caught them.

Verne had got to be the best shiner fisherman on the river and actually counted that day lost in which he didn't catch ten dozen shiners. But his demand was much larger. He decided the only thing to do was to breed shiners. He brought the bulldozers back again and dug up the greater part of his 14 acres of land, making them into gigantic pools, and began to breed shiners. There were headaches, the times for instance that hurricanes flooded the whole place and the shiners escaped by thousands. But it was a success.

Meanwhile Verne and Pauline had built a modern house on the place and the State Highway people had built a good road to their camp. Scores of fishing parties, some renting their boats from the Reynolds Camp, some bringing their own, would use this as their point of departure every day. A rented boat brought a dollar and a half a day, and now the shiners were going for two dollars a dozen.

But it was getting to be too much for Verne and Pauline. After more than ten years they had built up a business known State wide, and for that matter, all over the United States wherever bass fishing is loved, but they were getting too old to run it even with the local labor they hired to help. Finally they sold out for a figure large enough to keep them comfortably for the rest of their lives. Today they have a brand-new car and a brand-new trailer. They've been touring Mexico and the American west. While in California they left their trailer for a time and took off for Hawaii. Verne and Pauline are getting along in years but they're still young in spirit and living a full life.

Could you do this?

Not exactly this, possibly, but there is no American industry booming faster that tourism. There are tens of thousands of op­portunities to start in supplying the wants of fishermen, hunters, campers, hikers and just plain tourists. I need not list a good many of them here, you yourself personally know of many. It's up to you to find your opportunity and develop it.

CASE HISTORY No. 3. But just to give you a brief example, let's take Otis Lee who also found an easy-going opportunity in this town of Astor, Florida, nestled on the St. Johns River.

When Otis got out of the Marine Corps, after World War II, he just couldn't see going into industry or finding a work-a-day job. The very thought was repulsive. A native son of Florida, he was fully aware of its gifts, the fishing, the hunting, the boating, the swimming. Why give all these up to slave away in a factory or office?

Why indeed?

Otis moved to Astor and with the few thousands of dollars of capital he had saved during the war years, he bought the small grocery store that supplies the population of the tiny sport fishing town.

But Otis had no intention of just running a grocery store. That too could be as tedious as any job, and unprofitable at that. Otis and his wife Audrey decided that the only way to make a go of it in Astor and to achieve a full life without undue effort and expenditure of time would be to profit by the tourists who came to the famous St. Johns to take a crack at the fabulous bass.

So they put up four tourist cabins in the back, sort of a small motel, and had some cement bait wells for shiners and minnows built. The store was enlarged to contain a sporting goods section, half as big as that devoted to groceries.

Otis guaranteed that he himself spent as much time "inviting nature" as his free soul demanded. During the hours when the store wasn't busy he went out on the river catching bait, guiding tourists, sometimes running trot lines for catfish.

Personally I shall never forget long evenings at the home of Otis and Audrey, in the balmy Floridian night, owls calling in the distance and the St. Johns River slipping by outside, dark with tannic acid from the swamps, live oak, palm and cypress trees along its banks. Otis and I and perhaps one or more of the other fishing guides such as Buck Dillard sitting around with ice cold, sweat beaded cans of beer in our hands and talking of the day's fishing, while Audrey cooked up whole tubs of river crabs in her French cooker. It is almost unbelievable how many of these sweet crabs a person can eat.

Living? I tell you, one year of living along the St. Johns, in one of the beauty spots, one of the best climatic spots, one of the best fishing and hunting spots of the world, contains more fullness of life than a decade of slaving away in some steel mill in Gary, Indiana.

Why, do you know what heart of palm is? It is one of the most expensive gourmet dishes in the vegetable kingdom. I have seen this delicacy on the menus of restaurants in Paris, London and New York for a dollar and up a small portion—a very small por­tion. A whole palm tree must be sacrificed to obtain this "heart" which is the size of a head of lettuce. In the luxury restaurants of Paris, such as Maxims, it might go for a dollar or two per small portion, but in Astor, we called it "swamp cabbage" and ate it in as great a quantity as we wished and as often as we wished. It was merely a matter of taking the ax a few yards into the swamps and cutting down the first palm that was handy.

CASE HISTORY No. 4 . Just one more short example, before we leave this bargain paradise of Astor. There are those among us that might believe that the fishing and bait business of the Reynoldses or the easy-going sportsman's store and motel of the Lees are too time consuming. And they might be right at that.

So let's consider Ralph Driggers.

When I knew Ralph, Astor was already pretty well discovered by the sportsmen. He saw his opportunity and built a simple small boat dock which would house 30 to 40 craft through the slack summer months. He dubbed the dock Volusia Landing and charged three dollars a month per boat. An income of $120 a month may not sound like a great deal in the cities of the North, but given a pleasant cottage along the St. Johns in which to live, let me tell you you could do very well on that amount.

The time involved in keeping up Volusia Landing is small indeed and Ralph finds ample opportunity to go out after fish, squirrel, duck, deer, wild pig, and the other animals and birds that abound in this area.

An ideal way of life, if you ask me, for someone who likes to spend as much time as possible out enjoying nature.

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