Evening Star Newspaper, January 12, 1930, Page 97

One of the Stories of “the Ga/aky of Gayety” Contributed to The Star’s Sunday Maga- zine by the Leading Humorists of the Day. O begin with, I have always been what js known as & “home body"—to dis- tinguish me, I suppose, from a “hotel body” or a “steamboat body” or just any body found floating down some river on a dark night. At any rate, I lived at home with my family until I was married, and, after I married, I lived at home with my wife, Hotels meant nothing to me. If I went to another city, I visited other “home bedies” and spent the night with them. If they came to Newton Center, they visited me. It was a great arrangement—at least, I thought it was a great arrangement. And, then, one day, came the crisis. I had to go to Kansas City. “I've got to go to Kansas City,” I announced to my wife, “Oh, dear,” she said. “Where's that?” “It’s in the West,” I explained, with a wester- ly wave of my hand. “Oh, good,” she said. “Then ycu can stay with Tom and Ella. They live in the West.” It was quite a while before my wife could be made to understand that I couldn't stay with Tom and Ella. “Don’'t you see, darling,” I pleaded, “Tom and Ella live in St. Louis?” “But——" she protested. : “No.” I said firmly. “I shall have to go to a hote!.” My wife turned pale. “A hotel,” she gasped. I nodded. “Possibly for two weeks,” I said. be brave, dear.” “Over night?"” “We must I’r was some time, however, before my wife became reconciled to the idea. I advanced all the reassuring arguments in my power. I told her stories of various relatives of mine who had spent nights in hotels without harm. I even manufactured a tale of an Aunt Frieda who had actually lived in a hotel. “Yes,” she argued, “but that was in Boston.” “Nonsense,” I replied. “Western hotels are just as good as Eastern hotels. Some of our best citizens came from the West. Look at Lincoln.” My arguments were only partially effective. As a matter of fact, I was just a little doubtful State, War, Navy Building’s Fifty-Fif th Continued from Seventh Page signed and put the seals on the treaty of peace. The Secretary of State has his office on the second floor of the south wing. It is a beau- tiful room with an open fireplace and a mantel. Just off the office is the Secretary’s famous bath room—a very plain, unpretentious affair without the formality of a tiled floor. There is a special dignity and splendor sur- rounding the office of the Secretary of State that is found in no other cabinst office of the Government. There are many things that con- tribute to this air of greatness. One of them is the dignified, gray-spatted personnel of the office, another is the portraits of past Secre- taries hanging in the corridors outside. Thomas Jefferson, John Marshall, James Madison, John Quincy Adams, Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, James G. Blaine, Hamilton Fish and many others famous in American history look down from their frames on the wall to those passing by. In his high-ceilinged, sun-lighted room the Secretary of State receives all dignitaries, foreign ambassadors and potentates. When a great personage arrives in America he is due to pay his respects to the United States through the Secretary of State. On such oc- casions great excitement prevails. It would seem as if those old soundproof walls whispered the news to every clerk in the building. They leave their desks and line up along the corri- dors. And how they cheer! When Ramsay Macdonald stepped out of the elevator in front of the Secretary of State's office he was greeted by a burst of applause from the clerks. He smiled and seemed alto- gether pleased as he walked straight to Eddie’s desk. Eddie was an important person that day. He was wearing his ‘“regimentals,” and the scissor-tail points on his coat almost touched the floor. The crowd applauded while Eddie ushered Mr. Macdonald into the Secre- tary’s office. But when Eddie shut the door a great sigh went up from the corridors outside. The clerks wanted to know what happened behind those closed doors. So it is with all such affairs, the clerks get a fleeting glimpse of the great—personages like Queen Marie, Lind- bergh and the Prince of Wales—then they go back to their humdrum tasks of life. Sometimes these guests do not seem to like the cheering elerks—but wusually they do.’ When the dusky Princess Fatima of Afghani- “Good morning,” he smiled, handing each of us a menu. “The finnan haddie is very good today.” about the whole thing myself. And as I said good-by to her and a few of my friends who had come down to the station to see me off, I had the sad foreboding that the next news of me would be in the form of a letter from the Governor of Missouri containing my identifica- tion tag, my last letters, and the information that I had died bravely. This “leaving for the front” feeling was further augmented that night on the sleeper when I tried to find my pajamas and discovered that my wife had filled my suit case with little packages containing, among other things, an inflatable pillow, a blanket, a dozen towels, two tins of “canned heat,” and a first aid kit. I- am not quite sure what she thought hotel life was going to be like, but I am sure that she would have been just as surprised as I was when I arrived at my destination and was ushered into room 1738 of the Settle. I had chosen the Settle because of an ad- vertisement which proclaimed, “Every Room a Home.” That was what I wanted—a home. And, after about three days in room 1738, I began to feel that for once I had found an advertising slogan that was completely justified. I liked the Settle—and I discovered that I was beginning to like hotel life. Of course, there were certain things I missed—certain omissions which made me vaguely lcng for my own little nest. For instance, in our shower bath at home the water spurted sharply and viciously (when it functioned at all) from only three of the holes in the spray, whereas at the Settle the spray was uniform and worked perfectly. Then, too, it was a little disconcerting to find that heat actually came into the radiator when the valve was opened, and for a while I quite missed our own dear furnace which could only be counted on when the moon was right. And stan came to Washington, she wore a blue blouse and a short pink skirt—in the days of long skirts, She was interesting. The clerks wanted to see the ruby in her nose, and the largest diamond in the world. So they stood on the stairs and saw this strange woman carrying a gray cat into the Secretary of State’s office. When the Prince of Wales visited President Wilson the clerks waited to see him. It was a cold, rainy day and he did not appear at the appointed time, so they gave him up. One clerk, however, remained to watch. She sat out in the cold on a fourth-story window ledge facing the White House. At last the prince came, and when he saw the lone girl perched s0 high up there in the rain, he doffed his hat and waved gayly to her. He, too, was out-in the rain—in an open car. And so the prince passed by! These windows serve the clerks as grandstand seats for all kinds of parades and celebrations. Usually tickets are distributed to individuals which assign them to certain win- dows in impcrtant events such as inaugurals. The vast marble corridors of the State, War and Navy Building have been used to house troops for almost all the great inaugural oele- brations. However, in 1905 the building was not used for this purpose. At the time of the previous inaugural the 3,000 troops billeted in the checkerbcard halls caused considerable damage to its walls, borders and columns. This aroused the ire of Congress. THE office of the Secretary of War is on the second floor in the center of the west wing. The walls of the nerthern half of the corridors on this floor are hung with portraits of the past Secretaries of War. They are arranged in a chronological procession from Col. Timothy Pickering, Member Board of War, 1777, and James McHenry, the first Secretary of War, during Washington's administration, down to the recent War Secretaries. The space sur- rounding the entrance to the Secretary of War's office presents a very military appearance. Models of machine guns, trucks, soldiers’ uni- forms, flags, & miniature dug-out in Prance, and a toy transport furnish interesting dis- plays and settings for warriors. Thé walls and open fireplaces are more ornate ini the War offices than those in the rest cf the bullding. The repeating stars of the parquetry floors are very beguiling. You can never tell where one star and another be- gins. It seems that every time the builders other things, such as having a constant supply of clean towels and a fresh cake of soap every morning, got on my nerves terribly at first. But gradually I became accustomed to such minor irritations, and by the end of the first week I had become thoroughly convinced that there was something in this hotel idea after all, A WEEK later I returned home and for awhile everything went well. My friends seemed glad to see me back and I settled more or less naturally down into the old routine of home life. At least, I thought I had settled down. But after about 10 days I became in- creasingly aware that something was wrong. I was missing something—and I didn’'t know what it was. I began to lose weight. My friends became worried. My wife took to re- garding me anxiously and suggesting a tonic. I tried cutting out smoking and green peppers. Nothing seemed ‘o give me my old peace of mind. And then, finally, I discovered the trouble—and, as soon as I was sure, I went to the bank and looked up my friend Bob Cutler. “Bob.” T said earnestly. to lend me $50,000.” “What for?” asked Bob, pausing in the act of lighting his pipe. “Well, now, if you're going to act that way—"" I remonstrated. “No offense, old fellow,” said Bob, quickly. “Forgive me.” “Oh, that's all right,” I said. “I just don't like to have the bank prying into my affairs.” “Of course not,” agreed Bob. “But maybe you would tell me.” “Well, if you won't tell anybody else,” I said. “If we're going to lend you $50,000,” said Bob, “I ought to say something to the president.” “Well, just the president,” I agreed, “but no- body else.” “I want the bank came upon a new art design or border they added it to the interior of the building as they went along. It is true that each wing became more ornate than the one preceding it. There are 23 border designs encircling the dome over the northeast stairwell. At the present time the majority of the 2,000 clerks in the State, War and Navy Building belong to the War Department. Yet the build- ing itself would accommodate less than one- third of the civilian employes of the War De- partment in Washington. During the Great War clerks were crowded into every available space; even the corridors were filled with desks. The War ‘Départment’s personnel grew by leaps and bounds until it rose to 38,000 persons scattered all over the city of Washington—in private buildings, egg-shell temporary struc- tures, and in Sanda Court. Sanda Court was, as one of the engineers put it, “never quite right on its pins.” This flimsy bullding was put in the north court of the State, War and Navy Building, to house the Supply and Ac- ocounts Division of the Finance Office. 8. and A. was affectionately pronounced Sanda, but Sanda Court is only a war memory now. Inside the northern entrance to the old building is the guard's desk. The mahogany rail over the gate to this desk was taken from the old War Department House that stood on this spot. Across the hall is a large bronze tablet donated by the American Humane So- ciety commemorating the services and suffer- ings of the 243,135 horses and mules employed by the A. E. P. during the World War. The north, east and west entrances are ornamented by cannons captured in the various wars of the United States. The basement of the building is now wsed for offices, but it was originally intended for storage rooms. The subbasement is the scene of great mechanical activity., Down there throbs the boilers of the great heating piant, electric generators, ice plants and various me- chanical shops. The largest and most inter- esting objects in the subbasement are the six new oil-burning beilers—each 250 h.p. ‘These great boilers heat not only the vast area of the great building, but its next-door neighbor, the White House, and the Civil Service, Walker- Johnson and Lemon Buildings as well. The new heating plant has many advantages over the old one. Two men are all that are needed to operate the boilers. The oil, water and air are automatically controlled by the mechanism of the systtm. What a tremendous labor was “All right,” said Bob. “Now-—" And so I told Bob what I wanted the money for. He listened attentively, and when I had finished he excused himself and went in to see the president. The net result was, of course, that I got my money. I didn't get quite as much ar I had asked for, but I got $500, and with that as a starter I laid my plans and waited for my chance to put them into effect. The chance came the next week. By a rare stroke of good luck, my wife was called to Hartford by the illness of a relative. I worked feverishly, and by the time her kinswoman had passed the crisis I had things pretty well arranged. She arrived home Thursday night, very tired, and went right to bed. Promptly at 8 o’clock the next morning the telephone rang. My wife answered. “Wrong number,” she replied sleepily, and hung up. “What was it?” I asked innocently. “Somebody said, ‘Good morning. It's 8 o’clock,’ ” she replied. “Oh, yes,” I said, and the telephone rang again. “What?” asked my wife into the transmitter, “What?” and, turning to me, she announced: “You must complain to tke telephone com- pany.” “Why?” I asked, with a smile. She handed me the receiver. fidently. “Yes?"” I said. “This is room service,” was the reply. “Oh, yes,” I said. “Will you send a waiter with a menu up to room 1709? Thank you,” and I handed the telephone back to my somee what bewildered spouse. She looked at me in amazement, and then her gaze quickly shifted to the crack under the door. “What's that?” she whispered in terror. “Oh, that,” I replied, “that’s the morning paper,” and as soon as it had been pushed completely into the room, I picked it up and carried it to her. On the front page was neatly stamped: “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Stew- art. Compliments of the management.” I took it con< “SAY, what——" began my wife, but she was interrupted by a knock. A waiter in white entered. “Good morning,” he smiled, handing us each a menu. “The finnan haddie is very good to- day.” And then I explained. I explained that, ever since I had returned from Kansas City I had been conscious of certain things about our home life—certain faults—which I had never noticed before. The Settle had opened my eyes. I had seen what our home needed. Had I never gone to a hotel, I might have lived the rest of my life in ignorance of certain comforts which were man’s inalienable right. But now, thank good- ness, my eyes were open. My home was no longer to be mM#MMaly a home—it was to.be a hotel. “Just give it a trial, dear,” I pleaded. Well, to make a long story short, she yielded to my wishes and we gave it a trial. Need I say that it was a success? It was. And now our only wish is that others may profit from our experiment and make their homes just like hotels. The home was obsolete. It had to go. Vive I'hotel. (Long live hotels.) (Copyright, 1930.) Anniversary the heating of this building in the past when there were 11 steam boilers and 12 hot-water heating boilers to feed. It was at that time the largest hot-water heating plant in the world, its aggregated heating surface being 21,192 square feet. On January 6, 1904, a very cold day, 35 tons of coal were burned. Think of the laborers, firemen and mechanics needed on such a day! s The State, War and Navy plant also furnishes electricity to the White House and four other, Government buildings. Admiral Baird says there was a great celebration the night the lights were turned on at the White House. ‘The ceremony of turning the switch, by the admiral himself, was an outstanding event in the history of these two great buildings—the White House and the State, War and Navy, . In those days electric lights were not com- monplace, as they are now. The State, War.. and Navy plant ran night and day. An ex- tract from a report of the superintendent of.. the building in 1888 said: “The lights are. needed constantly. They are used mostly dur- ing the day by the Government clerks and mostly at night by the White House.” An- other report was found, dated July 28, 1899:. “For six months clerks in the adjutant gen- eral’s office and the quartermaster worked until' 10:30, using electric lights constantly and freely.” ! . The White House is also indebted to the State, War and Navy for its ice supply. Im' the Summer the ice plant manufacturers 10 tons daily. It cools the drinking water of: the 35 fountains in the building and furnishes ice to various Government departments. The eight original hydraulic elevators have been! replaced by six electric machines. The old elevators were elaborately decorated with de= signs of birds and flowers, but they had to go. For “they were always out of commotion,”" as the messengers used to say. At the present’ time there are 103 laborers of various kinds employed in the building. Forest Land in Hawaii HAWAII is blessed with a considerabla" quantity of forest land, yet with the ex-' ception of one type of wood, koa or Hawaliian ; mahogany, the forest lands are of little value,' The total acreage of woodland is estimated nt" 1,000,000 acres, but it i largely in tropical” forests with much- mesquite. Obia lehua, ap-2" other type of tree, has considerable value as [ protection for watershed.