Public-domain ebook
by Various
Language: en253 downloads on Project Gutenberg
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In: Humour·American Literature·Journalism/Media/Writing
Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #57025.
The opening · free to read
At the close of the recent war, on my way home to the Whiz Bang farm, still in uniform, I chanced on an old sea captain friend of former days down on New York’s Battery, old Jim Edmunds.
Later in the day, returning to my hotel with old Jim in tow, I found an invitation to a formal dance and card party awaiting me for that evening. I hit upon the idea that it would be well to take Captain Edmunds along; that his stories of the sea dogs would prove entertaining to the guests.
Accordingly I persuaded Jim, after much difficulty, to buy a dress suit for the occasion. The tailor couldn’t convince Jim that the vest should be cut down, and with only one button, but finally they compromised on a two-button vest.
All went well until we arrived at the hostess’ home and I introduced Captain Edmunds to her. Jim had on a medal he won for saving a ship at sea, and my hostess, at first puzzled as to whether he was an ex-army captain or a sea skipper, noticed the medal, and exclaimed: “Captain, I see you’re naval.”
The old man blushed and blurted out: “Yes, and if that danged tailor had his way, you could see a whole lot more.”
First of all we visited the National Dutch room to enjoy the cabaret. Bob was much astounded as he viewed the shapely dancers shimmying to the jazziest of jazz orchestrations.
“What do you think of it, Bob?” I inquired.
“I think you’d better ask the orchestra to play a wedding march, and play it quick,” he retorted.
Ignorance sometimes causes lots of trouble, and sometimes it falls upon the innocent. Witness the case of Gus, our hired man.
I went with Gus to the Shoe Palace in Robbinsdale while he purchased a new pair of boots. Now Gus suffers from a common malady—perspiration of the feet—and he’s very sensitive about it.
The clerk sprinkled some French chalk into the new shoes as he was about to try them on. Gus got up angrily.
“If I can’t try on a pair of your boots without having you sprinkle chloride of lime in them, I’ll take my trade elsewhere,” he bellowed.
It was with much difficulty that I pacified Gus and explained the use of the chalk. So now Gus has a new pair of boots, and without the lime disinfectant.
A few days ago, for the first time in many moons, I heard sweet strains of “Sweet Adeline” coming in a rich soprano, with bass accompaniment, from a passing automobile on the Whiz Bang farm trail, and it brought me out of my reveries and revived memories of bygone days.
Thoughts of the many times I had heard that song along the trail from town, just after the bars of Robbinsdale and Casey’s roadhouse would close, came to me sweetly.
This brand of choral singing has become a lost art under prohibition. “Sweet Adeline” as sung by a troop of celebrators who wouldn’t know whether they were standing on their feet or their heads, was very beautiful.
To enjoy it thoroughly, one had to be quite drunk himself. Jack would sing the tenor, Bob the bass and I would join in the chorus, in sentimental strain. It was all very touching. With it, nothing can compare.
In my memories I can still picture Jack’s tenor squawking “You’re the flower of my heart” and Bob’s bass refrain “Sweet Adeline,” after which came the grand finale. Ah, those were the happy days.
The couple that left an automobile seat at the Whiz Bang farm a couple of months ago, while they went to town to report the theft of their automobile, haven’t come back yet, and I don’t know what the deuce to do with the seat.
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