by Frank Harris
It all chilled me a little. Should I ever find perfection? Ten minutes later she had rearranged the bed and we were seated in the sitting room, but to my wonder Jessie didn't want to talk over our experience. «What gave you the most pleasure?» I asked. «All of it,» she said, «you naughty dear; but don't let's talk of it.» I told her I was going to work for a month, but I couldn't talk to her; my hand was soon up her clothes again, playing with her sex and caressing it, and we had to move apart hurriedly when we heard her sister at the door. I didn't get another evening alone with Jessie for some time. I asked for it often enough, but Jessie made excuses and her sister was very cold to me. I soon found out that it was by her advice that Jessie guarded herself. Jessie confessed that her sister accused her of letting me «act like a husband. She must have seen a stain on my chemise,» Jessie added, «when you made me bleed, you naughty boy; anyway, something gave her the idea, and now you must be good.»
That was the conclusion of the whole matter. If I had known as much then as I knew ten years later, neither the pain nor her sister's warnings could have dissuaded Jessie from giving herself to me. Even at the time I felt that a little more knowledge would have made me the arbiter. The desire to have Jessie completely to myself again was one reason why I gave up the job at the bridge as soon as the month was up. I had over a hundred and fifty dollars clear in my pocket and I had noticed that though the pains in my ears soon ceased, I had become a little hard of hearing. The first morning I wanted to lie in bed and have one great lazy day, but I awoke at five as usual, and it suddenly occurred to me that I should go down and see Allison, the bootblack, again. I found him busier than ever and I had soon stripped off and set to work. About ten o'clock we had nothing to do, so I told him of my work under water; he boasted that his «stand» brought him in about four dollars a day: there wasn't much to do in the afternoons, but from six to seven again he usually earned something more. I was welcome to come and work with him any morning on halves and I thought it well to accept his offer. That very afternoon I took Jessie for a walk in the park, but when we had found a seat in the shade she confessed that her sister thought we ought to be engaged, and as soon as I got steady work we could be married. «A woman wants a home of her own,» she said, «and oh, boy! I'd make it so pretty! And we'd go out to the theatres and have a gay old time.» I was horrified; married at my age, no sir! It seemed absurd to me, and with Jessie! I saw she was pretty and bright, but she knew nothing, never had read anything: I couldn't marry her. The idea made me snort. But she was dead in earnest, so I agreed to all she said, only insisting that first I must get regular work; I'd buy the engagement ring too: but first we must have another great evening. Jessie didn't know whether her sister would go out, but she'd see. Meanwhile we kissed and kissed and her lips grew hot and my hand got busy, and then we walked again, on and on, and finally went into the great museum.
Here I got one of the shocks of my life. Suddenly, Jessie stopped before a picture representing, I think, Paris choosing the goddess of beauty, Paris being an ideal figure of youthful manhood. «Oh, isn't he splendid!» cried Jessie. «Just like you,» she added with feminine wit, pouting out her lips as if to kiss me. If she hadn't made the personal application, I might not have realized the absurdity of the comparison. But Paris had long, slim legs while mine were short and stout, and his face was oval and his nose straight, while my nose jutted out with broad, scenting nostrils. The conviction came to me in a flash: I was ugly with irregular features, sharp eyes and short squat figure. The certainty overpowered me: I had learned before that I was too small to be a great athlete, now I saw that I was ugly to boot: my heart sank: I cannot describe my disappointment and disgust. Jessie asked what was the matter and at length I told her. She wouldn't have it. «You've a lovely white skin,» she cried,
«and you're quick and strong: no one would call you ugly! The idea!»
But the knowledge was in me indisputable, never to leave me again for long. It even led me to some erroneous inferences then and there. For example, it seemed clear to me that if I had been tall and handsome like Paris, Jessie would have given herself to me in spite of her sister; but further knowledge of women makes me inclined to doubt this. They have a luscious eye for good looks in the male, naturally; but other qualities, such as strength and dominant self-confidence, have an even greater attraction for the majority, especially for those who are richly endowed sexually. I am inclined to think that it was her sister's warnings and her own matter-of-fact hesitation before the irrevocable that induced Jessie to withhold her sex from complete abandonment. But the pleasure I had experienced with her made me keener than ever and more enterprising. The conviction of my ugliness, too, made me resolve to develop my mind and all other faculties as much as I could. Finally I saw Jessie home and had a great hug and long kiss and was told she had had a bully afternoon and we made another appointment. I worked at bootblacking every morning and soon got some regular customers, notably a young, well dressed man who seemed to like me. Either Allison or he himself told me his name was Kendrick and he came from Chicago. One morning he was very silent and absorbed. At length I said, «Finished,» and «Finished,» he repeated after me. «I was thinking of something else,» he explained. «Intent,»
I said smiling. «A business deal,» he explained, «but why do you say intent?» «The Latin phrase came into my head,» I replied without thinking, «Intentique ore tenebant, Vergil says.» «Good God!» he cried. «Fancy a bootblack quoting Vergil. You're a strange lad; what age are you?» «Sixteen,» I replied. «You don't look it,» he said, «but now I must hurry; one of these days we'll have a talk.» I smiled,
«Thank you, Sir,» and away he hastened. The very next day he was in still greater haste. «I must get down town,» he said. «I'm late already. Just give me a rub or two»; he cried impatiently, «I must catch that train.» And he fumbled with some bills in his hand. «It's all right,» I said, and smiling added: «Hurry! I'll be here tomorrow.»
He smiled and went off without paying, taking me at my word. The next day I strolled down town early, for Allison had found that a stand and lean-to were to be sold on the corner of Thirteenth Street and Seventh Avenue, and as he was known, he wanted me to go and have a look at the business done from seven to nine. The Dago who wished to sell out and go back to Dalmatia wanted three hundred dollars for the outfit, asserting that the business brought in four dollars a day. He had not exaggerated unduly, I found, and Allison was hot that we should buy it together and go fifty-fifty. «You'll make five or six dollars a day at it,» he said, «if the Dago makes four. It's one of the good pitches and with three dollars a day coming in, you'll soon have a stand of your own.» While we were discussing it, Kendrick came up and took his accustomed seat. «What were you so hot about?» he asked, and as Allison smiled, I told him. «Three dollars a day seems good,» he said, «but bootblacking's not your game. How would you like to come to Chicago and have a place as night clerk in my hotel? I've got one with my uncle,» he added, «and I think you'd make good.»
«I'd do my best,» I replied, the very thought of Chicago and the Great West drawing me. «Will you let me think it over?» «Sure, sure!» he replied. «I don't go back till Friday; that gives you three days to decide.» Allison stuck to his opinion that a good stand would make more money; but when I talked it over with the Mulligans, they were both in favor of the hotel. I saw Jessie that same evening and told her of the «stand» and begged for another evening, but she stuck to it that her sister was suspicious and cross with me and would not leave us alone again. Accordingly, I said nothing to her of Chicago. I had always noticed that sexual pleasure is in its nature profoundly selfish. So long as Jessie yielded to me and gave me delight, I was attracted to her; but as soon as she denied me, I became annoyed and dreamed of more pliant beauties. I was rather pleased to leave her without even a word; «That'll teach her!» my wounded vanity whispered; «She deserves to suffer a little for disappointing me.» But parting with the Mulligans was really painful: Mrs. M
ulligan was a dear, kind woman who would have mothered the whole race if she could, one of those sweet Irish women whose unselfish deeds and thoughts are the flowers of our sordid, human life. Her husband, too, was not unworthy of her, very simple and straight and hard-working, without a mean thought in him, a natural prey to good fellowship and songs and poteen. On Friday afternoon I left New York for Chicago with Mr. Kendrick. The country seemed to me very bare, harsh and unfinished, but the great distances enthralled me; it was indeed a land to be proud of, every broad acre of it spoke of the future and suggested hope. My first round, so to speak, with American life was over. What I had learned in it remains with me still. No people is so kind to children and no life so easy for the handworkers; the hewers of wood and drawers of water are better off in the United States than anywhere else on earth. To this one class, and it is by far the most numerous class, the American democracy more than fulfills its promises. It levels up the lowest in a most surprising way. I believed then with all my heart what so many believe today, that all deductions made, it was on the whole the best civilization yet known among men. In time deeper knowledge made me modify this opinion more and more radically. Five years later I was to see Walt Whitman, the noblest of all Americans, living in utter poverty at Camden, dependent upon English admirers for a change of clothes or a sufficiency of food; and Poe had suffered in the same way. Bit by bit the conviction was forced upon me that if the American democracy does much to level up the lowest class, it is still more successful in leveling down the highest and best. No land on earth is so friendly to the poor illiterate toilers, no land so contemptuous-cold to the thinkers and artists, the guides of humanity. What help is there here for men of letters and artists, for the seers and prophets? Such guides are not wanted by the idle rich and are ignored by the masses, and after all, the welfare of the head is more important even than that of the body and feet. What will become of those who stone the prophets and persecute the teachers? The doom is written in flaming letters on every page of history.
Chapter VI. Life in Chicago
The Fremont house, Kendrick's hotel, was near the Michigan Street depot. In those days, when Chicago had barely 300,000 inhabitants, it was a hotel of the second class. Mr. Kendrick had told me that his uncle, a Mr. Cotton, really owned the House, but left him the chief share in the management, adding, «What uncle says, goes always.» In the course of time, I understood the nephew's loyalty, for Mr. Cotton was really kindly and an able man of business.
My duties as night clerk were simple: from eight at night till six in the morning, I was master in the office and had to apportion bedrooms to the incoming guests, and give bills and collect the moneys due from the outgoing public. I set myself at once to learn the good and bad points of the hundred odd bedrooms in the house and the arrival and departure times of all the night trains. When guests came in, I met them at the entrance, found out what they wanted and told this or that porter or bellboy to take them to their rooms. However curt or irritable they were, I always tried to smooth them down and soon found I was succeeding. In a week Mr. Kendrick told me that he had heard golden opinions of me from a dozen visitors. «You have a dandy night clerk,» he was told, «Spares no pains… pleasant manners… knows everything… some clerk; yes, sir!» My experience in Chicago assured me that if one does his very best, he comes to success in business in comparatively short time; so few do all they can. Going to bed at six, I was up every day at one o'clock for dinner, as it was called, and after dinner I got into the habit of going into the billiard room, at one end of which was a large bar. By five o'clock or so, the billiard room was crowded and there was no one to superintend things, so I spoke to Mr. Kendrick about it and took the job on my own shoulders. I had little to do but induce newcomers to await their turn patiently and to mollify old customers who expected to find tables waiting for them. The result of a little courtesy and smiling promises was so marked that at the end of the very first month the bookkeeper, a man named Curtis, told me with a grin that I was to get sixty dollars a month and not forty dollars, as I had supposed. Needless to say the extra pay simply quickened my desire to make myself useful.
But now I found my way up barred by two superiors; the bookkeeper was one and the steward, a dry, taciturn westerner named Payne, was the other. Payne bought everything and had control of the dining room and waiters, while Curtis ruled the office and the bellboys. I was really under Curtis, but my control of the billiard room gave me a sort of independent position. I soon made friends with Curtis, got into the habit of dining with him, and when he found that my handwriting was very good, he gave me the day book to keep and in a couple of months had taught me bookkeeping while entrusting me with a good deal of it. He was not lazy, but most men of forty like to have a capable assistant. By Christmas that year I was keeping all the books except the ledger and I knew, as I thought, the whole business of the hotel.
The dining room, it seemed to me, was very badly managed; but as luck would have it, I was first to get control of the office. As soon as Curtis found that I could safely be trusted to do his work, he began going out at dinner time and often stayed away the whole day.
About New Year he was away for five days and confided in me when he returned that he had been on a «bust.» He wasn't happy with his wife, it appeared, and he used to drink to drown her temper. In February he was away for ten days, but as he had given me the key of the safe I kept everything going. One day Kendrick found me in the office working and wanted to know about Curtis: «How long has he been away?» «A day or two,» I replied. Kendrick looked at me and asked for the ledger.
«It's written right up!» he exclaimed; «Did you do it?» I had to say I did, but at once I sent a bellboy for Curtis. The boy didn't find him at his house and next day I was brought up before Mr. Cotton. I couldn't deny that I had kept the books and Cotton soon saw that I was shielding Curtis out of loyalty. When Curtis came in next day, he gave the whole show away; he was half-drunk still and rude to boot. He had been unwell, he said, but his work was in order. He was «fired» there and then by Mr. Cotton and that evening Kendrick asked me to keep things going properly till he could persuade his uncle that I was trustworthy and older than I looked. In a couple of days I saw Mr. Cotton and Mr. Kendrick together. «Can you keep the books and be night clerk and take care of the billiard room?» Mr. Cotton asked me sharply. «I think so,» I replied. «I'll do my best.» «Hm!» he grunted. «What pay do you think you ought to have?» «I'll leave that to you, Sir,» I said. «I shall be satisfied whatever you give me.» «The devil you will,» he said grumpily; «Suppose I said keep on at your present rate?» I smiled, «O.K., Sir.» «Why do you smile?» he asked. «Because, Sir, pay like water tends to find its level!» «What the devil d'ye mean by 'its level'?» «The level,» I went on, «is surely the market price; sooner or later it'll rise towards that and I can wait.» His keen grey eyes suddenly bored into me. «I begin to think you're much older than you look, as my nephew here tells me,» he said. «Put yourself down at a hundred a month for the present and in a little while we'll perhaps find the 'level,'«and he smiled. I thanked him and went out to my work.
It seemed as if incidents were destined to crowd my life. A day or so after this the taciturn steward, Payne, came and asked me if I'd go out with him to dinner and some theatre or other. I had not had a day off in five or six months, so I said, «Yes.» He gave me a great dinner at a famous French restaurant (I forget the name now) and wanted me to drink champagne. But I had already made up my mind not to touch any intoxicating liquor till I was twenty-one, and so I told him simply that I had taken the pledge. He beat about the bush a great deal, but at length said that as I was bookkeeper in place of Curtis, he hoped we should get along as he and Curtis had done. I asked him just what he meant, but he wouldn't speak plainly, which excited my suspicions. A day or two afterwards I got into talk with a butcher in another quarter of the town and asked him what he would supply seventy pounds of beef and fifty pounds of mutton for, daily for a hotel. He
gave me a price so much below the price Payne was paying that my suspicions were confirmed. I was tremendously excited. In my turn I invited Payne to dinner and led up to the subject. At once he said,
«Of course there's a 'rake-off,' and if you'll hold in with me, I'll give you a third, as I gave Curtis. The 'rake-off' don't hurt anyone,» he went on, «for I buy below market price.» Of course I was all ears and eager interest when he admitted that the 'rake-off' was on everything he bought and amounted to about 20 per cent of the cost. By this he changed his wages from two hundred dollars a month into something like two hundred dollars a week. As soon as I had all the facts clear, I asked the nephew to dine with me and laid the situation before him. I had only one loyalty-to my employers and the good of the ship. To my astonishment he seemed displeased at first.
«More trouble,» he began; «Why can't you stick to your own job and leave the others alone? What's in a commission after all?» When he came to understand what the commission amounted to and that he himself could do the buying in half an hour a day, he altered his tone. «What will my uncle say now?» he cried and went off to tell the owner his story. There was a tremendous row two days later for Mr. Cotton was a business man and went to the butchers we dealt with and ascertained for himself how important the «rake-off» really was. When I was called into the uncle's room, Payne tried to hit me; but he found it easier to receive than to give punches and that «the damned kid» was not a bit afraid of him. Curiously enough, I soon noticed that the «rake-off» had had the secondary result of giving us an inferior quality of meat; whenever the butcher was left with a roast he could not sell, he used to send it to us, confident that Payne wouldn't quarrel about it. The Negro cook declared that the meat now was far better, all that could be desired, in fact, and our customers too were not slow to show their appreciation. One other change the discharge of Payne brought about; it made me master of the dining room. I soon picked a smart waiter and put him as chief over the rest and together we soon improved the waiting and discipline among the waiters out of all comparison. For over a year I worked eighteen hours out of the twenty-four and after the first six months or so I got one hundred and fifty dollars a month and saved practically all of it.
