Frank Harris - My Life and Loves, Book 1

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.

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.