to Clyde, and observing his none-too-good clothes, at the same time
making a comprehensive study of him.
"The gentleman in the drug store," began Clyde, who did not quite
like the looks of the man before him, but was determined to present
himself as agreeably as possible, "was saying--that is, he said
that I might ask you if there was any chance here for me as a bell-
boy. I'm working now at Klinkle's drug store at 7th and Brooklyn,
as a helper, but I'd like to get out of that and he said you might--
that is--he thought you had a place open now." Clyde was so
flustered and disturbed by the cool, examining eyes of the man
before him that he could scarcely get his breath properly, and
swallowed hard.
For the first time in his life, it occurred to him that if he
wanted to get on he ought to insinuate himself into the good graces
of people--do or say something that would make them like him. So
now he contrived an eager, ingratiating smile, which he bestowed on
Mr. Squires, and added: "If you'd like to give me a chance, I'd
try very hard and I'd be very willing."
The man before him merely looked at him coldly, but being the soul
of craft and self-acquisitiveness in a petty way, and rather liking
anybody who had the skill and the will to be diplomatic, he now put
aside an impulse to shake his head negatively, and observed: "But
you haven't had any training in this work."
"No, sir, but couldn't I pick it up pretty quick if I tried hard?"
"Well, let me see," observed the head of the bell-hops, scratching
his head dubiously. "I haven't any time to talk to you now. Come
around Monday afternoon. I'll see you then." He turned on his
heel and walked away.
Clyde, left alone in this fashion, and not knowing just what it
meant, stared, wondering. Was it really true that he had been
invited to come back on Monday? Could it be possible that-- He
turned and hurried out, thrilling from head to toe. The idea! He
had asked this man for a place in the very finest hotel in Kansas
City and he had asked him to come back and see him on Monday. Gee!
what would that mean? Could it be possible that he would be
admitted to such a grand world as this--and that so speedily?
Could it really be?
Chapter 5
The imaginative flights of Clyde in connection with all this--his
dreams of what it might mean for him to be connected with so
glorious an institution--can only be suggested. For his ideas of
luxury were in the main so extreme and mistaken and gauche--mere
wanderings of a repressed and unsatisfied fancy, which as yet had
had nothing but imaginings to feed it.
He went back to his old duties at the drug-store--to his home after
hours in order to eat and sleep--but now for the balance of this
Friday and Saturday and Sunday and Monday until late in the day, he
walked on air, really. His mind was not on what he was doing, and
several times his superior at the drugstore had to remind him to
"wake-up." And after hours, instead of going directly home, he
walked north to the corner of 14th and Baltimore, where stood this
great hotel, and looked at it. There, at midnight even, before
each of the three principal entrances--one facing each of three
streets--was a doorman in a long maroon coat with many buttons and
a high-rimmed and long-visored maroon cap. And inside, behind
looped and fluted French silk curtains, were the still blazing
lights, the a la carte dining-room and the American grill in the
basement near one corner still open. And about them were many
taxis and cars. And there was music always--from somewhere.
After surveying it all this Friday night and again on Saturday and
Sunday morning, he returned on Monday afternoon at the suggestion
of Mr. Squires and was greeted by that individual rather crustily,
for by then he had all but forgotten him. But seeing that at the
moment he was actually in need of help, and being satisfied that
Clyde might be of service, he led him into his small office under
the stair, where, with a very superior manner and much actual
indifference, he proceeded to question him as to his parentage,
where he lived, at what he had worked before and where, what his
father did for a living--a poser that for Clyde, for he was proud
and so ashamed to admit that his parents conducted a mission and
preached on the streets. Instead he replied (which was true at
times) that his father canvassed for a washing machine and wringer
company--and on Sundays preached--a religious revelation, which was
not at all displeasing to this master of boys who were inclined to
be anything but home-loving and conservative. Could he bring a
reference from where he now was? He could.
Mr. Squires proceeded to explain that this hotel was very strict.
Too many boys, on account of the scenes and the show here, the
contact made with undue luxury to which they were not accustomed--
though these were not the words used by Mr. Squires--were inclined
to lose their heads and go wrong. He was constantly being forced
to discharge boys who, because they made a little extra money,
didn't know how to conduct themselves. He must have boys who were
willing, civil, prompt, courteous to everybody. They must be clean
and neat about their persons and clothes and show up promptly--on
the dot--and in good condition for the work every day. And any boy
who got to thinking that because he made a little money he could
flirt with anybody or talk back, or go off on parties at night, and
then not show up on time or too tired to be quick and bright,
needn't think that he would be here long. He would be fired, and
that promptly. He would not tolerate any nonsense. That must be
understood now, once and for all.
Clyde nodded assent often and interpolated a few eager "yes, sirs"
and "no, sirs," and assured him at the last that it was the
furtherest thing from his thoughts and temperament to dream of any
such high crimes and misdemeanors as he had outlined. Mr. Squires
then proceeded to explain that this hotel only paid fifteen dollars
a month and board--at the servant's table in the basement--to any
bell-boy at any time. But, and this information came as a most
amazing revelation to Clyde, every guest for whom any of these boys
did anything--carried a bag or delivered a pitcher of water or did
anything--gave him a tip, and often quite a liberal one--a dime,
fifteen cents, a quarter, sometimes more. And these tips, as Mr.
Squires explained, taken all together, averaged from four to six
dollars a day--not less and sometimes more--most amazing pay, as
Clyde now realized. His heart gave an enormous bound and was near
to suffocating him at the mere mention of so large a sum. From
four to six dollars! Why, that was twenty-eight to forty-two
dollars a week! He could scarcely believe it. And that in
addition to the fifteen dollars a month and board. And there was
no charge, as Mr. Squires now explained, for the handsome uniforms
the boys wore. But it might not be worn or taken out of the place.
His hours, as Mr. Squires now proceeded to explain, would be as
follows: On Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays, he was to
work from six in the morning until noon, and then, with six hours
off, from six in the evening until midnight. On Tuesdays,
Thursdays and Saturdays, he need only work from noon until six,
thus giving him each alternate afternoon or evening to himself.
But all his meals were to be taken outside his working hours and he
was to report promptly in uniform for line-up and inspection by his
superior exactly ten minutes before the regular hours of his work
began at each watch.
As for some other things which were in his mind at the time, Mr.
Squires said nothing. There were others, as he knew, who would
speak for him. Instead he went on to add, and then quite
climactically for Clyde at that time, who had been sitting as one
in a daze: "I suppose you are ready to go to work now, aren't
you?"
"Yes, sir, yes, sir," he replied.
"Very good!" Then he got up and opened the door which had shut
them in. "Oscar," he called to a boy seated at the head of the
bell-boy bench, to which a tallish, rather oversized youth in a
tight, neat-looking uniform responded with alacrity. "Take this
young man here--Clyde Griffiths is your name, isn't it?--up to the
wardrobe on the twelfth and see if Jacobs can find a suit to fit.
But if he can't tell him to alter it by to-morrow. I think the one
Silsbee wore ought to be about right for him."
Then he turned to his assistant at the desk who was at the moment
looking on. "I'm giving him a trial, anyhow," he commented. "Have
one of the boys coach him a little to-night or whenever he starts
in. Go ahead, Oscar," he called to the boy in charge of Clyde.
"He's green at this stuff, but I think he'll do," he added to his
assistant, as Clyde and Oscar disappeared in the direction of one
of the elevators. Then he walked off to have Clyde's name entered
upon the payroll.
In the meantime, Clyde, in tow of this new mentor, was listening to
a line of information such as never previously had come to his ears
anywhere.
"You needn't be frightened, if you ain't never worked at anything
like dis before," began this youth, whose last name was Hegglund as
Clyde later learned, and who hailed from Jersey City, New Jersey,
exotic lingo, gestures and all. He was tall, vigorous, sandy-
haired, freckled, genial and voluble. They had entered upon an
elevator labeled "employees." "It ain't so hard. I got my first
job in Buffalo t'ree years ago and I never knowed a t'ing about it
up to dat time. All you gotta do is to watch de udders an' see how
dey do, see. Yu get dat, do you?"
Clyde, whose education was not a little superior to that of his
guide, commented quite sharply in his own mind on the use of such
words as "knowed," and "gotta"--also upon "t'ing," "dat," "udders,"
and so on, but so grateful was he for any courtesy at this time
that he was inclined to forgive his obviously kindly mentor
anything for his geniality.
"Watch whoever's doin' anyt'ing, at first, see, till you git to
know, see. Dat's de way. When de bell rings, if you're at de head
of de bench, it's your turn, see, an' you jump up and go quick.
Dey like you to be quick around here, see. An' whenever you see
any one come in de door or out of an elevator wit a bag, an' you're
at de head of de bench, you jump, wedder de captain rings de bell
or calls 'front' or not. Sometimes he's busy or ain't lookin' an'
he wants you to do dat, see. Look sharp, cause if you don't get no
bags, you don't get no tips, see. Everybody dat has a bag or
anyt'ing has to have it carried for 'em, unless dey won't let you
have it, see.
"But be sure and wait somewhere near de desk for whoever comes in
until dey sign up for a room," he rattled on as they ascended in
the elevator. "Most every one takes a room. Den de clerk'll give
you de key an' after dat all you gotta do is to carry up de bags to
de room. Den all you gotta do is to turn on de lights in de
batroom and closet, if dere is one, so dey'll know where dey are,
see. An' den raise de curtains in de day time or lower 'em at
night, an' see if dere's towels in de room, so you can tell de maid
if dere ain't, and den if dey don't give you no tip, you gotta go,
only most times, unless you draw a stiff, all you gotta do is hang
back a little--make a stall, see--fumble wit de door-key or try de
transom, see. Den, if dey're any good, dey'll hand you a tip. If
dey don't, you're out, dat's all, see. You can't even look as
dough you was sore, dough--nottin' like dat, see. Den you come
down an' unless dey wants ice-water or somepin, you're troo, see.
It's back to de bench, quick. Dere ain't much to it. Only you
gotta be quick all de time, see, and not let any one get by you
comin' or goin'--dat's de main t'ing.
"An' after dey give you your uniform, an' you go to work, don't
forgit to give de captain a dollar after every watch before you
leave, see--two dollars on de day you has two watches, and a dollar
on de day you has one, see? Dat's de way it is here. We work
togedder like dat, an' you gotta do dat if you wanta hold your job.
But dat's all. After dat all de rest is yours."
Clyde saw.
A part of his twenty-four or thirty-two dollars as he figured it
was going glimmering, apparently--eleven or twelve all told--but
what of it! Would there not be twelve or fifteen or even more
left? And there were his meals and his uniform. Kind Heaven!
What a realization of paradise! What a consummation of luxury!
Mr. Hegglund of Jersey City escorted him to the twelfth floor and
into a room where they found on guard a wizened and grizzled little
old man of doubtful age and temperament, who forthwith ouffitted
Clyde with a suit that was so near a fit that, without further
orders, it was not deemed necessary to alter it. And trying on
various caps, there was one that fitted him--a thing that sat most
rakishly over one ear--only, as Hegglund informed him, "You'll have
to get dat hair of yours cut. Better get it clipped behind. It's
too long." And with that Clyde himself had been in mental
agreement before he spoke. His hair certainly did not look right
in the new cap. He hated it now. And going downstairs, and
reporting to Mr. Whipple, Mr. Squires' assistant, the latter had
said: "Very well. It fits all right, does it? Well, then, you go
