And so, of all the influences which might have come to Clyde at this time, either as an aid or an injury to hisdevelopment, perhaps the most dangerous for him, considering his temperament, was this same Green-Davidson,than which no more materially affected or gaudy a realm could have been found anywhere between the two greatAmerican mountain ranges. Its darkened and cushioned tea-room, so somber and yet tinted so gayly with coloredlights, was an ideal rendezvous, not only for such inexperienced and eager flappers of the period who were to betaken by a show of luxury, but also for those more experienced and perhaps a little faded beauties, who had athought for their complexions and the advantages of dim and uncertain lights. Also, like most hotels of its kind, itwas frequented by a certain type of eager and ambitious male of not certain age or station in life, who countedupon his appearance here at least once, if not twice a day, at certain brisk and interesting hours, to establish forhimself the reputation of man-about-town, or rounder, or man of wealth, or taste, or attractiveness, or all.
And it was not long after Clyde had begun to work here that he was informed by these peculiar boys with whomhe was associated, one or more of whom was constantly seated with him upon the "hop-bench," as they called it,as to the evidence and presence even here--it was not long before various examples of the phenomena werepointed out to him--of a certain type of social pervert, morally disarranged and socially taboo, who sought toarrest and interest boys of their type, in order to come into some form of illicit relationship with them, which atfirst Clyde could not grasp. The mere thought of it made him ill. And yet some of these boys, as he was now informed--a certain youth in particular, who was not on the same watch with him at this time--were supposed tobe of the mind that "fell for it," as one of the other youths phrased it.
And the talk and the palaver that went on in the lobby and the grill, to say nothing of the restaurants and rooms,were sufficient to convince any inexperienced and none-too-discerning mind that the chief business of life forany one with a little money or social position was to attend a theater, a ball-game in season, or to dance, motor,entertain friends at dinner, or to travel to New York, Europe, Chicago, California. And there had been in the livesof most of these boys such a lack of anything that approached comfort or taste, let alone luxury, that not unlikeClyde, they were inclined to not only exaggerate the import of all that they saw, but to see in this suddentransition an opportunity to partake of it all. Who were these people with money, and what had they done thatthey should enjoy so much luxury, where others as good seemingly as themselves had nothing? And wherein didthese latter differ so greatly from the successful? Clyde could not see. Yet these thoughts flashed through theminds of every one of these boys.
At the same time the admiration, to say nothing of the private overtures of a certain type of woman or girl, whoinhibited perhaps by the social milieu in which she found herself, but having means, could invade such a regionas this, and by wiles and smiles and the money she possessed, ingratiate herself into the favor of some of themore attractive of these young men here, was much commented upon.
Thus a youth named Ratterer--a hall-boy here--sitting beside him the very next afternoon, seeing a trim, well-formed blonde woman of about thirty enter with a small dog upon her arm, and much bedecked with furs, firstnudged him and, with a faint motion of the head indicating her vicinity, whispered, "See her? There's a swift one.
I'll tell you about her sometime when I have time. Gee, the things she don't do!""What about her?" asked Clyde, keenly curious, for to him she seemed exceedingly beautiful, most fascinating.
Oh, nothing, except she's been in with about eight different men around here since I've been here. She fell forDoyle"--another hall-boy whom by this time Clyde had already observed as being the quintessence ofChesterfieldian grace and airs and looks, a youth to imitate--"for a while, but now she's got some one else.""Really?" inquired Clyde, very much astonished and wondering if such luck would ever come to him.
Surest thing you know," went on Ratterer. "She's a bird that way--never gets enough. Her husband, they tellme, has a big lumber business somewhere over in Kansas, but they don't live together no more. She has one ofthe best suites on the sixth, but she ain't in it half the time. The maid told me."This same Ratterer, who was short and stocky but good-looking and smiling, was so smooth and bland andgenerally agreeable that Clyde was instantly drawn to him and wished to know him better. And Rattererreciprocated that feeling, for he had the notion that Clyde was innocent and inexperienced and that he would liketo do some little thing for him if he could.
The conversation was interrupted by a service call, and never resumed about this particular woman, but the effecton Clyde was sharp. The woman was pleasing to look upon and exceedingly well-groomed, her skin clear, hereyes bright. Could what Ratterer had been telling him really be true? She was so pretty. He sat and gazed, a vision of something which he did not care to acknowledge even to himself tingling the roots of his hair.
And then the temperaments and the philosophy of these boys--Kinsella, short and thick and smooth-faced and alittle dull, as Clyde saw it, but good-looking and virile, and reported to be a wizard at gambling, who, throughoutthe first three days at such times as other matters were not taking his attention, had been good enough to continueHegglund's instructions in part. He was a more suave, better spoken youth than Hegglund, though not soattractive as Ratterer, Clyde thought, without the latter's sympathetic outlook, as Clyde saw it.
And again, there was Doyle--Eddie--whom Clyde found intensely interesting from the first, and of whom he wasnot a little jealous, because he was so very good-looking, so trim of figure, easy and graceful of gesture, and withso soft and pleasing a voice. He went about with an indescribable air which seemed to ingratiate him instantlywith all with whom he came in contact--the clerks behind the counter no less than the strangers who entered andasked this or that question of him. His shoes and collar were so clean and trim, and his hair cut and brushed andoiled after a fashion which would have become a moving-picture actor. From the first Clyde was utterlyfascinated by his taste in the matter of dress--the neatest of brown suits, caps, with ties and socks to match. Heshould wear a brown-belted coat just like that. He should have a brown cap. And a suit as well cut and attractive.
Similarly, a not unrelated and yet different effect was produced by that same youth who had first introducedClyde to the work here--Hegglund--who was one of the older and more experienced bell-hops, and ofconsiderable influence with the others because of his genial and devil-may-care attitude toward everything,outside the exact line of his hotel duties. Hegglund was neither as schooled nor as attractive as some of theothers, yet by reason of a most avid and dynamic disposition--plus a liberality where money and pleasure wereconcerned, and a courage, strength and daring which neither Doyle nor Ratterer nor Kinsella could match--astrength and daring almost entirely divested of reason at times--he interested and charmed Clyde immensely. Ashe himself related to Clyde, after a time, he was the son of a Swedish journeyman baker who some years beforein Jersey City had deserted his mother and left her to make her way as best she could. In consequence neitherOscar nor his sister Martha had had any too much education or decent social experience of any kind. On thecontrary, at the age of fourteen he had left Jersey City in a box car and had been making his way ever since asbest he could. And like Clyde, also, he was insanely eager for all the pleasures which he had imagined he sawswirling around him, and was for prosecuting adventures in every direction, lacking, however, the nervous fearof consequence which characterized Clyde. Also he had a friend, a youth by the name of Sparser, somewhatolder than himself, who was chauffeur to a wealthy citizen of Kansas City, and who occasionally managed topurloin a car and so accommodate Hegglund in the matter of brief outings here and there; which courtesy,unconventional and dishonest though it might be, still caused Hegglund to feel that he was a wonderful fellowand of much more importance than some of these others, and to lend him in their eyes a luster which had little ofthe reality which it suggested to them.
Not being as attractive as Doyle, it was not so easy for him to win the attention of girls, and those he did succeedin interesting were not of the same charm or import by any means. Yet he was inordinately proud of suchcontacts as he could effect and not a little given to boasting in regard to them, a thing which Clyde took withmore faith than would most, being of less experience. For this reason Hegglund liked Clyde, almost from thevery first, sensing in him perhaps a pleased and willing auditor.
So, finding Clyde on the bench beside him from time to time, he had proceeded to continue his instructions.
Kansas City was a fine place to be if you knew how to live. He had worked in other cities--Buffalo, Cleveland,Detroit, St. Louis--before he came here, but he had not liked any of them any better, principally--which was afact which he did not trouble to point out at the time--because he had not done as well in those places as he hadhere. He had been a dishwasher, car-cleaner, plumber's helper and several other things before finally, in Buffalo,he had been inducted into the hotel business. And then a youth, working there, but who was now no longer here,had persuaded him to come on to Kansas City. But here
Say--de tips in dis hotel is as big as you'll git anywhere, I know dat. An' what's more, dey's nice people workin
here. You do your bit by dem and dey'll do right by you. I been here now over a year an' I ain't got no complaint.
Dat guy Squires is all right if you don't cause him no trouble. He's hard, but he's got to look out for hisself, too-dat'snatural. But he don't fire nobody unless he's got a reason. I know dat, too. And as for de rest dere's notrouble. An' when your work's troo, your time's your own. Dese fellows here are good sports, all o' dem. Dey'reno four-flushers an' no tightwads, eider. Whenever dere's anyting on--a good time or sumpin' like dat, dey're on-nearlyall of 'em. An' dey don't mooch or grouch in case tings don't work out right, neider. I know dat, cause Ibeen wit 'em now, lots o' times."He gave Clyde the impression that these youths were all the best of friends--close--all but Doyle, who was a littlestandoffish, but not coldly so. "He's got too many women chasin' him, dat's all." Also that they went here andthere together on occasion--to a dance hall, a dinner, a certain gambling joint down near the river, a certainpleasure resort--"Kate Sweeney's"--where were some peaches of girls--and so on and so forth, a world of suchinformation as had never previously been poured into Clyde's ear, and that set him meditating, dreaming,doubting, worrying and questioning as to the wisdom, charm, delight to be found in all this--also thepermissibility of it in so far as he was concerned. For had he not been otherwise instructed in regard to all this allhis life long? There was a great thrill and yet a great question involved in all to which he was now listening soattentively.
Again there was Thomas Ratterer, who was of a type which at first glance, one would have said, could scarcelyprove either inimical or dangerous to any of the others. He was not more than five feet four, plump, with blackhair and olive skin, and with an eye that was as limpid as water and as genial as could be. He, too, as Clydelearned after a time, was of a nondescript family, and so had profited by no social or financial advantages of anykind. But he had a way, and was liked by all of these youths--so much so that he was consulted about nearlyeverything. A native of Wichita, recently moved to Kansas City, he and his sister were the principal support of awidowed mother. During their earlier and formative years, both had seen their very good-natured andsympathetic mother, of whom they were honestly fond, spurned and abused by a faithless husband. There hadbeen times when they were quite without food. On more than one occasion they had been ejected for nonpaymentof rent. None too continuously Tommy and his sister had been maintained in various public schools.
Finally, at the age of fourteen he had decamped to Kansas City, where he had secured different odd jobs, until hesucceeded in connecting himself with the Green-Davidson, and was later joined by his mother and sister who hadremoved from Wichita to Kansas City to be with him.
But even more than by the luxury of the hotel or these youths, whom swiftly and yet surely he was beginning todecipher, Clyde was impressed by the downpour of small change that was tumbling in upon him and making asmall lump in his right-hand pants pocket--dimes, nickels, quarters and half-dollars even, which increased andincreased even on the first day until by nine o'clock he already had over four dollars in his pocket, and by twelve, at which hour he went off duty, he had over six and a half--as much as previously he had earned in a week.
And of all this, as he then knew, he need only hand Mr. Squires one--no more, Hegglund had said--and the rest,five dollars and a half, for one evening's interesting--yes, delightful and fascinating--work, belonged to himself.
He could scarcely believe it. It seemed fantastic, Aladdinish, really. Nevertheless, at twelve, exactly, of that firstday a gong had sounded somewhere--a shuffle of feet had been heard and three boys had appeared--one to takeBarnes' place at the desk, the other two to answer calls. And at the command of Barnes, the eight who werepresent were ordered to rise, right dress and march away. And in the hall outside, and just as he was leaving,Clyde approached Mr. Squires and handed him a dollar in silver. "That's right," Mr. Squires remarked. No more.
Then, Clyde, along with the others, descended to his locker, changed his clothes and walked out into thedarkened streets, a sense of luck and a sense of responsibility as to future luck so thrilling him as to make himrather tremulous--giddy, even.
To think that now, at last, he actually had such a place. To think that he could earn this much every day, maybe.
He began to walk toward his home, his first thought being that he must sleep well and so be fit for his duties inthe morning. But thinking that he would not need to return to the hotel before 11:30 the next day, he wanderedinto an all-night beanery to have a cup of coffee and some pie. And now all he was thinking was that he wouldonly need to work from noon until six, when he should be free until the following morning at six. And then hewould make more money. A lot of it to spend on himself.