by Frank Harris
Some experiences in this long, icy-cold winter in Chicago enlarged my knowledge of American life and particularly of life on the lowest level. I had been about three months in the hotel when I went out one evening for a sharp walk, as I usually did, about seven o'clock. It was bitterly cold; a western gale raked the streets with its icy teeth, the thermometer was about ten below zero. I had never imagined anything like the cold. Suddenly I was accosted by a stranger, a small man with red moustache and stubbly, unshaven beard.
«Say, mate, can you help a man to a meal?» The fellow was evidently a tramp: his clothes shabby and dirty; his manner servile with a backing of truculence. I was kindly and not critical. Without a thought I took my roll of bills out of my pocket. I meant to take off a dollar bill. As the money came to view the tramp with a pounce grabbed at it, but caught my hand as well. Instinctively I held on to my roll like grim Death, but while I was still under the shock of surprise, the hobo hit me viciously in the face and plucked at the bills again. I hung on all the tighter, and angry now, struck the man in the face with my left fist. The next moment we had clenched and fallen. As luck and youth would have it, I fell on top. At once I put out all my strength, struck the fellow hard in the face and at the same time tore my bills away. The next moment I was on my feet with my roll deep in my pocket and both fists ready for the next assault. To my astonishment, the hobo picked himself up and said confidently:
«I'm hungry, weak, or you wouldn't have downed me so easy.» And then he went on with what to me seemed incredible impudence: «You should peel me off a dollar at least for hittin' me like that,» and he stroked his jaw as if to ease the pain. «I've a good mind to give you in charge,» said I, suddenly realizing that I had the law on my side. «If you don't cash up,» barked the hobo, «I'll call the cops and say you've grabbed my wad.» «Call away,» I cried; «we'll see who'll be believed.» But the hobo knew a better trick. In a familiar wheedling voice he began again: «Come, young fellow, you'll never miss one dollar and I'll put you wise to a good many things here in Chicago. You had no business to pull out a wad like that in a lonely place to tempt a hungry man.» «I was going to help you,» I said hesitatingly. «I know,» replied my weird acquaintance, «but I prefer to help myself,» and he grinned. «Take me to a hash-house:
I'm hungry and I'll put you wise to many things; you're a tenderfoot and show it.» Clearly the hobo was master of the situation and somehow or other his whole attitude stirred my curiosity. «Where are we to go?» I asked. «I don't know any restaurant near here except the Fremont House.» «Hell,» cried the hobo, «only millionaires and fools go to hotels. I follow my nose for grub,» and he turned on his heel and led the way without another word down a side street and into a German dive set out with bare wooden tables and sanded floor.
Here he ordered hash and hot coffee, and when I came to pay I was agreeably surprised to find that the bill was only forty cents and we could talk in our corner undisturbed as long as we liked. In ten minutes' chat the hobo had upset all my preconceived ideas and given me a host of new and interesting thoughts. He was a man of some reading, if not of education, and the violence of his language attracted me almost as much as the novelty of his point of view.
All rich men were thieves, all workmen sheep and fools, was his creed. The workmen did the work, created the wealth, and the employers robbed them of nine-tenths of the product of their labor and so got rich. It all seemed simple. The tramp never meant to work; he lived by begging and went wherever he wanted to go. «But how do you get about?» I cried. «Here in the middle west,» he replied, «I steal rides in freight cars and box-cars and on top of coal wagons; in the real west and south I get inside the cars and ride, and when the conductor turns me off I wait for the next train. Life is full of happenings-some of 'em painful,» he added, thoughtfully rubbing his jaw again. He appeared to be a tough little man whose one object in life was to avoid work, and in spite of himself, he worked hard in order to do nothing. The experience had a warning, quickening effect on me. I resolved to save all I could. When I stood up to go the hobo grinned amicably: «I guess I've earned that dollar?»
I could not help laughing. «I guess you have,» I replied, but took care to turn aside as I stripped off the bill. «So long,» said the tramp as we parted at the door and that was all the thanks I ever got. Another experience of this time told a sadder story.
One evening a girl spoke to me: she was fairly well dressed and as we came under a gas lamp, I saw she was good looking with a tinge of nervous anxiety in her face. «I don't buy love,» I warned her,
«but how much do you generally get?» «From one dollar to five,» she replied; «but tonight I want as much as I can get.» «I'll give you five,» I replied; «but you must tell me all I want to know.»
«All right,» she said eagerly, «I'll tell all I know; it's not much,» she added bitterly. «I'm not twenty yet, but you'd have taken me for more, now wouldn't you?» «No,» I replied, «you look about eighteen.» In a few minutes we were climbing the stairs of a tenement house. The girl's room was poorly furnished and narrow, a hall bedroom just the width of the corridor, perhaps six feet by eight. As soon as she had taken off her thick coat and hat, she hastened out of the room, saying she'd be back in a minute. In the silence I thought I heard her running up the stairs; a baby somewhere near cried; and then silence again, till she opened the door, drew my head to her and kissed me. «I like you,» she said, «though you're funny.» «Why funny?» I asked. «It's a scream,» she said, «to give five dollars to a girl and never touch her, but I'm glad, for I was tired tonight and anxious.» «Why anxious?» I queried, «and why did you go out if you were tired?» «Got to,» she replied through tightly closed lips. «You don't mind if I leave you again for a moment?» she added, and before I could answer she was out of the room again. When she returned in five minutes I had grown impatient and put on my overcoat and hat. «Goin'?» she asked in surprise. «Yes,» I replied;
«I don't like this empty cage while you go off to someone else.»
«Someone else,» she repeated, and then as if desperate, «It's my baby if you must know: a friend takes care of her when I'm out or working.» «Oh, you poor thing,» I cried. «Fancy you with a baby at this life!» «I wanted a baby,» she cried defiantly. «I wouldn't be without her for anything! I always wanted a baby: there's lots of girls like that.» «Really?» I cried astounded. «Do you know her father?» I went on. «Of course I do,» she retorted.
«He's working in the stockyards; he's tough and won't keep sober.»
«I suppose you'd marry him if he would go straight?» I asked.
«Any girl would marry a decent feller!» she replied. «You're pretty,» I said. «D'ye think so?» she asked eagerly, pushing her hair back from the sides of her head. «I used to be but now-this life-» and she shrugged her shoulders expressively. «You don't like it?» I asked. «No,» she cried, «though when you get a nice feller, it's not so bad; but they're scarce,» she went on bitterly,
«and generally when they're nice, they've no bucks. The nice fellers are all poor or old,» she added reflectively. I had had the best part of her wisdom, so I stripped off a five-dollar bill and gave it to her. «Thanks,» she said, «you're a dear and if you want to come an' see me at any time, just come an' I'll try to give you a good time.»
– Away I went. I had had my first talk with a prostitute and in her room! The idea that a girl could want a baby was altogether new to me; her temptations very different from a boy's, very! For the greater part of my first year in Chicago I had no taste of love: I was often tempted by this chambermaid or that, but I knew that I should lose prestige if I yielded and I simply put it all out of my head resolvedly, as I had abjured drink. But towards the beginning of the summer temptation came to me in a new guise. A Spanish family, named Vidal, stopped at the Fremont House. Senor Vidal was like a French officer, middle height, trim figure, very dark, with grey moustache waving up at the ends. His wife, motherly but stout, with large dark eyes and small features; a cou
sin, a man of about thirty, rather tall with a small black moustache, like a tooth brush, I thought, and sharp imperious ways. At first I did not notice the girl who was talking to her Indian maid. I understood at once that the Vidals were rich and gave them the best rooms. «All communicating-except yours,» I added, turning to the young man; «It is on the other side of the corridor, but large and quiet.» A shrug and contemptuous nod was all I got for my pains from Senor Arriga. As I handed the keys to the bellboy, the girl threw back her black mantilla. «Any letters for us?» she asked quietly. For a minute I stood dumbfounded, enthralled, then, «I'll see,» I muttered and went to the rack, but only to give myself a countenance. I knew there were none. «None, I'm sorry to say,» I smiled, watching the girl as she moved away. «What's the matter with me?» I said to myself angrily. «She's nothing wonderful, this Miss Vidal; pretty, yes, and dark, with fine dark eyes, but nothing extraordinary.» It would not do; I was shaken in a new way and would not admit it even to myself.
In fact, the shock was so great that my head took sides against heart and temperament at once, as if alarmed. «All Spaniards are dark,» I said to myself, trying to depreciate the girl and so regain self-control, «besides, her nose is beaked a little.» But there was no conviction in my criticism. As soon as I recalled the proud grace of carriage and the magic of her glance, the fever-fit shook me again; for the first time my heart had been touched. Next day I found out that the Vidals had come from Spain and were on their way to their hacienda near Chihuahua in northern Mexico. They meant to rest in Chicago for three or four days because Senora Vidal had heart trouble and couldn't stand much fatigue. I discovered besides that Senor Arriga was either courting his cousin or betrothed to her, and at once I sought to make myself agreeable to the man. Senor Arriga was a fine billiards player and I took the nearest way to his heart by reserving for him the best table, getting him a fair opponent and complimenting him upon his skill. The next day Arriga opened his heart to me: «What is there to do in this dull hole?» Did I know of any amusement? Any pretty women? I could do nothing but pretend to sympathize and draw him out, and this I easily accomplished, for Senor Arriga loved to boast of his name and position in Mexico and his conquests. «Ah, you should have seen her as I led her in the baile (dance)-an angel!» and he kissed his fingers gallantly. «As pretty as your cousin?»
I ventured. Senor Arriga flashed a sharp suspicious glance at me, but apparently reassured by my frankness, went on: «In Mexico we never talk of members of our family,» he warned. «The Senorita is pretty, of course, but very young; she has not the charm of experience, the caress of-I know so little American, I find it difficult to explain.» But I was satisfied. «He doesn't love her,» I said to myself; «loves no one except himself.» In a thousand little ways I took occasion to commend myself to the Vidals.
Every afternoon they drove out and I took care they should have the best buggy and the best driver and was at pains to find out new and pretty drives, though goodness knows the choice was limited. The beauty of the girl grew on me in an extraordinary way; yet it was the pride and reserve in her face that fascinated me more even than her great dark eyes or fine features or splendid coloring. Her figure and walk were wonderful, I thought. I never dared to seek epithets for her eyes, or mouth, or neck. Her first appearance in evening dress was a revelation to me; she was my idol, enskied and sacred. It is to be presumed that the girl saw how it was with me and was gratified.
She made no sign, betrayed herself in no way, but her mother noticed that she was always eager to go downstairs to the lounge and missed no opportunity of making some inquiry at the desk. «I want to practice my English,» the girl said once, and the mother smiled: «Los ojos, you mean your eyes, my dear,» and added to herself: «But why not? Youth…» and sighed for her own youth now foregone, and the petals already fallen. One little talk I got with my goddess; she came to the office to ask about reserving a Pullman drawing room for El Paso. I undertook at once to see to everything, and when the dainty little lady added in her funny accent: «We have so many baggage, twenty-six bits,» I said as earnestly as if my life depended on it,
«Please trust me. I shall see to everything. I only wish,» I added, «I could do more for you.» «That's kind,» said the coquette, «very kind,» looking full at me. Emboldened by despair at her approaching departure, I added: «I'm so sorry you're going. I shall never forget you, never.» Taken aback by my directness, the girl laughed saucily, «Never means a week, I suppose.» «You will see,» I went on hurriedly, as if driven, as indeed I was. «If I thought I should not see you again and soon, I should not want to live.» «A declaration,» she laughed merrily, still looking me brightly in the face. «Not of independence,» I cried, «but of-» as I hesitated between «affection» and «love,» the girl put her finger to her lips.
«Hush, hush,» she said gravely, «you are too young to take vows and I must not listen»; but seeing my face fall, she added, «You have been very kind. I shall remember my stay in Chicago with pleasure,» and she stretched out her hand. I took it and held it treasuring every touch. Her look and the warmth of her ringers I garnered up in my heart as purest treasure. As soon as she had gone and the radiance with her, I cudgeled my brains to find some pretext for another talk. «She goes tomorrow,» hammered in my brain and my heartache choked me, almost prevented me from thinking. Suddenly the idea of flowers came to me. I'd buy a lot. No; everyone would notice them and talk. A few would be better. How many? I thought and thought.
When they came into the lounge next day ready to start, I was watching my opportunity, but the girl gave me a better one than I could have picked. She waited till her father and Arriga had left the hall and then came over to the desk. «You have ze checks?» she asked. «Everything will be given you at the train,» I said, «but I have these for you. Please accept them!» and I handed her three splendid red rosebuds, prettily tied up with maiden hair fern.
«How kind,» she exclaimed, coloring, «and how pretty,» she added, look-big at the roses. «Just three?» «One for your hair,» I said, with love's cunning, «one for your eyes and one for your heart-will you remember?» I added in a low voice intensely. She nodded and then looked up sparkling. «As long-as ze flowers last,» she laughed, and was back with her mother. I saw them into the omnibus and got kind words from all the party, even from Senor Arriga, but cherished most her look and word as she went out of the door. Holding it open for her, I murmured as she passed, for the others were within hearing: «I shall come soon.» The girl stopped at once, pretending to look at the tag on a trunk the porter was carrying. «El Paso is far away,» she sighed, «and the hacienda ten leagues further on. When shall we arrive-when?» she added, glancing up at me.
«When?» was the significant word to me for many a month; her eyes had filled it with meaning. I've told of this meeting with Miss Vidal at length because it marked an epoch in my life; it was the first time that love had cast her glamor over me, making beauty superlative, intoxicating. The passion rendered it easier for me to resist ordinary temptation, for it taught me there was a whole gorgeous world in love's kingdom that I had never imagined, much less explored. I had scarcely a lewd thought of Gloria. It was not till I saw her bared shoulders in evening dress that I stripped her in imagination and went almost wild in uncontrollable desire. Would she ever kiss me? What was she like undressed? My imagination was still untutored: I could picture her breasts better than her sex, and I made up my mind to examine the next girl I was lucky enough to see naked much more precisely. At the back of my mind was the fixed resolve to go to Chihuahua somehow or other in the near future and meet my charmer again, and that resolve in due course shaped my life anew.
In early June that year three strangers came to the hotel, all cattlemen I was told, of a new sort: Reece and Dell and Ford, the «Boss,» as he was called. Reece was a tall dark Englishman or rather Welshman, always dressed in brown leather riding boots, Bedford cord breeches and dark tweed cutaway coat: he looked a prosperous gentleman farmer; Dell was a
lmost a copy of him in clothes, about middle height and sturdier-in fact an ordinary Englishman. The Boss was fully six feet tall, taller even than Reece, with a hatchet-thin, bronzed face and eagle profile-evidently a Western cattleman from head to foot. The head-waiter told me about them, and as soon as I saw them I had them transferred to a shady-cool table and saw that they were well waited on. A day or two afterwards we had made friends and a little later Reece got me measured for two pairs of cord breeches and had promised to teach me how to ride. They were cow-punchers, he said, with his strong English accent, and were going down to the Rio Grande to buy cattle and drive 'em back to market in Kansas City. Cattle, it appeared, could be bought in South Texas for a dollar a head or less and fetched from fifteen to twenty dollars each in Chicago. «Of course we don't always get through unscathed,» Reece remarked. «The plains Indians-Cherokees, Blackfeet and Sioux-take care of that; one herd in two gets through and that pays big.» I found they had brought up a thousand head of cattle from their ranch near Eureka, Kansas, and a couple of hundred head of horses. To cut a long story short, Reece fascinated me; he told me that Chihuahua was the Mexican province just across the Rio Grande from Texas, and at once I resolved to go on the trail with these cow-punchers, if they'd take me. In two or three days Reece told me I shaped better at riding than anyone he had ever seen, though he added, «When I saw your thick, short legs I thought you'd never make much of a hand at it.» But I was strong and had grown nearly six inches in my year in the States and I turned in my toes as Reece directed and hung on to the English saddle by the grip of my knees till I was both tired and sore. In a fortnight Reece made me put five-cent pieces between my knees and the saddle and keep them there when galloping or trotting. This practice soon made a rider of me so far as the seat was concerned, and I had already learned that Reece was a pastmaster in the deeper mysteries of the art, for he told me he used to ride colts in the hunting field in England; and «That's how you learn to know horses,» he added significantly. One day I found out that Dell knew some poetry, literature, too, and economics, and that won me completely; when I asked them would they take me with them as a cowboy, they told me I'd have to ask the Boss, but there was no doubt he'd consent; and he consented, after one sharp glance. Then came my hardest task: I had to tell Mr. Kendrick and Mr. Cotton that I must leave. They were more than astonished: at first they took it to be a little trick to extort a raise in salary: when they saw it was sheer boyish adventure-lust, they argued with me but finally gave in. I promised to return to them as soon as I got back to Chicago or got tired of cow-punching. I had nearly eighteen hundred dollars saved, which, by Mr. Cotton's advice, I transferred to a Kansas City bank he knew well.
