All along, Miller's salesman was creating a tableau vivant, in his work and in his family. If you put the right characters on stage, you create the right image. In Willy Loman's mind, Dave Singleman, that "single" salesman, no doubt created the proper image. Even Singleman's death was that of a salesman, "When he died -- and by the way he died the death of a salesman, in his green velvet slippers in the smoker of the New York, New Haven and Hartford, going into Boston -- when he died, hundreds of salesmen and buyers were at his funeral." A traveling salesman should die on the road, as Dave Singleman obviously did. What greater tribute to a way of life than to die in the course of one's duty? Appropriately, as well, Loman's hero received the adulation of his peers - the ultimate complement in the eyes of a man who believed everything should be done for show. Singleman's public death on a train bound from New York to Boston, put him leaving America's great metropolis, heading off toward some still greater heavenly sales field. The attention that such a death would attract would be wider still, unusual enough that it would probably be reported in the press, enough to "individualize" a man even in a society as oddly and blandly homogenized as Loman's idealized America. For it is a great curiosity that the aspiring hero of sales who so lauds the cardboard sameness of "living the American Dream," can praise the heroic life and death of one man, a story of triumph that lift him far above the ordinary. But then this,...
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