This eBook was produced by David Schwan <davidsch@earthlink.net>.
The Log of the Empire State
by Geneve L. A. Shaffer
Dedicated to My Mother and Your Mother
To My Mother
Your little hands are folded,
Your tired breast is still.
But your valiant heart beats on and on,
And so forever will.
In the lives of those who knew you,
Each gentle beat will bring
An echo sweet and tender,
To linger there and sing.
By C. T. S.
The Log of the Empire State
Introduction
As Miss Shaffer was appointed the special representative of the San
Francisco Examiner on the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce, Commercial
Relationship Tour of the Orient, as well as being a member of the San
Francisco Chamber of Commerce, she was requested to write this little
book covering the three months' trip, and she wishes to thank all the
members of the party for their kindly interest and cooperation in
helping her secure much of the information contained herein.
Chapter I
Before we had reached the Golden Gate we acted like some great happy
family, eager to enjoy every minute. After we stopped waving our tired
arms to the crowds of friends on the docks and the last bouquet aimed at
the Mayor's tug had landed in the bay, small groups, with radiant faces,
discussed what do you suppose? No, not the crossing of the Bar, but the
opening of the ship's bar. As you know, Uncle Sam seems to consider the
dry law impossible on the water.
We were all saying that San Francisco's farewell made us proud to belong
to such a city, when M. A. Gale told us that he wanted to add a word of
praise for one of San Francisco's traffic officers, who let him by when
he made a speedy trip for some valuables left behind, which had just
been missed at the last moment. But, do you remember who was the last
passenger? She was nervous and fidgety ever since she came on board,
too. None other than Bulah, the handsome mare bound for Yokohama. It was
worth going through the steerage to watch her enjoy one of our "eleven
o'clock" apples.
When the lunch gong sounded, we all went below (doesn't that sound real
nautical?) to try and get settled in our home for the next three months.
Apparently there was no place left for even our hats, thoughtful gifts,
fruits, candy and flowers, filled every inch of ordinary space.
Christmas time was tame by comparison.
Many were down to lunch, fortified by a highball, but at dinner, mal de
mer had claimed its victims, and there were only a few brave spirits on
deck to indulge in dancing the first night.
The second day out everybody was trying to remember everyone else by
name. One positive lady insisted that A. I. Esberg was Dr. Morton, but
little mistakes were forgotten, and many of the committee were soon
calling each other by their first names.
While most of us were getting comfortably settled in our deck chairs,
someone noticed that Louis Glass, George Vranizan, C. W. Hinchcliffe,
Carl Westerfeld, C. A. Thayer, C. H. James, William Symon, F. S.
Ballinger, P. H. Lyon, S. L. Schwartz and Henry Mattlage had disappeared
below. And it is said by one who trailed them to their lair, that the
Fantan and Pie-gow games, going on in the steerage, were the magnet.
There were other discoveries in the steerage. A Servian girl, Alma
Karlin, who speaks ten languages fluently, but could not afford a
first-class passage (although once well-to-do) on account of the low
exchange value of her country's money. She is on a three-year tour to
study conditions in the Pacific Islands, to learn if her countrymen can
successfully immigrate to this region.
A young American married to a Chinaman, a group of Orientals devouring
an odd-looking concoction with chop sticks, a motley group of Hindus
with their fezzes, made the picturesque gathering, that gladly received
the surplus fruits distributed by the belles of the ship.
We struck a squall that surprised many of us enjoying the salt sea
breeze in our stuffy state rooms, by washing the spray over our neatly
put-out dinner clothes. That night it took real sea legs to dance while
the ship rocked. But it was great sport, and Sidney Kahn's University
Orchestra "jazzed" on as if they were on solid ground.
The third day all of the officers appeared in white. White duck curtains
replaced the wooden doors. The women blossomed out in the daintiest of
summer frocks, the men in white flannels, and although most of us found
our shoes difficult to put on (in spite of the fact that we all had
shoes a half a size larger) deck games were in full swing and sea
sickness was a thing of the past.
Commissioner Krull was the first to jump into the open-air swimming
tank, some of the ladies following. But it took deck tennis and the
tropics to make the tank popular.
Captain Nelson took us on a tour of inspection, and as eating was the
principal occupation, we asked to see the electrically operated galley
first, for, next to the bar, it was the chief attraction. We all have
heard of electric dish washers, potato peelers, knife sharpeners, bread
bakers, cake mixers, etc., but what a guarantee for matrimonial bliss
there would be if every young bride could be as sure as this ship was to
please the most particular of husbands. How? By using an automatic,
electric egg boiler that can be set for any time, and when the desired
number of minutes is reached, presto! up comes the egg out of the
boiling water! Not a second overdone, or underdone. In China some of us
were given, as a great delicacy, a "twenty-year-old egg" and toward the
end of the trip many of us had lost interest in all eggs, no matter how
cooked.
The stoves burn oil, and although the day was hot, and the noon meal was
in preparation, there was no excessive heat and no fumes. The white-clad
Chinese waiters did their appointed tasks with the smoothness and lack
of confusion of clockwork.
Our smiling waiters greeted us every morning in long blue kimonos. Ours
answered to the name of Arling, and after one had ordered an abnormal
breakfast, he suggested that the griddle cakes were "veery goo-wd."
Everyone ate more than they ever thought they could, and when at eleven
o'clock, the deck boy came along with broth, few there were that had the
courage to say, "No." The tang of the sea caused groups to invade the
charming tea-room, with its yellow curtains and painted wicker
furniture, at tiffin time. And if chicken, a-la-King, was served after
the nightly dancing party, - well, everyone said, "We don't make a trip
like this every day, so, why not?"
There was a weighing machine on the lower deck, but, we all believed
that it must have been out of order. If we had not gained any more
pounds than we had spent for oriental souvenirs, we would have been
lucky.
Some of the older members of the party welcomed the Sunday evening
movies instead of the strenuous dancing, but we were all glad to go to
bed after the movie villain had been killed.