Ron Popeil hawked such items as the Veg-O-Matic chopper, the Pocket Fisherman and spray-on hair on television, relentlessly, for decades. He also sold himself as a marketing genius in a 1995 memoir entitled “The Salesman of the Century.”

Mr. Popeil died Wednesday at a hospital in Los Angeles, his family said in a statement. He was 86 years old.

“Selling just seemed to come naturally to me,” he wrote in his memoir.

Born in the Bronx, Mr. Popeil was raised in Miami and Chicago. He learned to sell by hawking his father’s kitchen gadgets at the Maxwell Street open-air market in Chicago. He also sold gadgets at a Woolworth’s store in Chicago and at state and county fairs, where his favorite location for product demonstrations was near the women’s bathrooms.

His various Ronco-products firms went national through television ads and later through cable-television shopping channels. In recent years, he pitched a turkey fryer.

In public, he gleefully sprayed the back of his head with GLH (or Great Looking Hair) to conceal a bald spot.

“Isn’t that amazing?” he often said. Or, for a rotisserie oven: “Set it and forget it.” And most famously: “But wait, there’s more.”

His hucksterism inspired parodies, including on “Saturday Night Live,” as well as a song called “Mr. Popeil” by Weird Al Yankovic. Far from being offended, he welcomed the publicity.

Ronald Martin Popeil (pronounced poh-PEEL) was born May 3, 1935. His father, Samuel J. Popeil, made kitchen gadgets. When Ron was 3, his parents divorced, he wrote in his memoir, adding “Neither of them wanted me or my older brother Jerry, so they dumped us and sent us off to a boarding school in upstate New York.”

He later lived with his paternal grandparents in Miami and Chicago during a childhood he depicted as unremittingly grim. “I don’t even recall ever having a birthday party as a child,” he wrote.

His discovery of salesmanship yielded not just spending money but human connection. At age 16, he began selling his father’s kitchen gadgets at the raucous Maxwell Street market, where he learned his craft through trial and error and by watching other hawkers. By 17, he could afford to leave home and live in his own studio apartment.

He briefly attended the University of Illinois but was lured away by the quick money he could make selling almost anything.

At a Woolworth’s store, he worked as an independent contractor and gave the store a cut of his sales. He recalled demonstrating a chopping device and promising onlookers: “You can chop ham for ham salad, chicken for chicken salad, horse for horse radish.”

Mr. Popeil wrote that he received a $2.5 million check when Ronco Teleproducts went public in 1969. In 1984, a bank lender cut off Ronco’s line of credit, and the company filed for bankruptcy. He later bought back the inventory of gadgets from creditors and returned to the fair circuit to sell them.

Mr. Popeil at his Beverly Hills, Calif., kitchen. A cooking enthusiast, he collected more than 2,000 bottles of olive oil.

Mr. Popeil at his Beverly Hills, Calif., kitchen. A cooking enthusiast, he collected more than 2,000 bottles of olive oil.

Photo: Ringo Chiu/Zuma Press

Over the years, he also sold “smokeless” ashtrays and devices for making pasta and sausages, dehydrating fruit and scrambling eggs inside the shells.

Mr. Popeil sold his business in 2005 for nearly $60 million and relaunched himself as a seller of turkey fryers. A cooking enthusiast, he collected more than 2,000 bottles of olive oil.

Mr. Popeil’s survivors include his wife, Robin Angers Popeil, four daughters and four grandchildren. His 1995 memoir mentioned three earlier marriages that ended in divorce.

“I have enough money today,” he told the Associated Press in 1997. “But I can’t stop. If there’s a need for these things, I can’t help myself.”

Write to James R. Hagerty at bob.hagerty@wsj.com