After Three Months’ Abstinence, San Francisco Finds That It Has Lost Its
Old-Time Thirst.
San Francisco, after its terrific shake-up, dropped the liquor business
temporarily. The man in control foresaw the dangers of alcohol to a
homeless community.
After three months saloons were permitted to open. What was the effect?
A simultaneous rush for the swinging doors? Not at all. People seemed to
have got out of the way of drinking; and this was true in spite of the
fact that, during the period of “enforced abstinence,” they could always
get liquor from outside the city limits, if they wanted it.
The San Francisco _Chronicle_ says:
Liquor drinking is with most people not the gratification of an
appetite, but a mere habit. There is no liquor and few wines which
taste good. Even the toper who takes his whisky straight washes the
taste out of his mouth with water as quickly as he can.
With a comparatively few there is a real craving for liquor, or at
least for its stimulating effects, but the vast majority of those who
drink in saloons do so merely because in the poverty of their
intellects they know no other way of manifesting good fellowship
toward friends whom they meet. So the drink habit is formed, which, in
some cases, degenerates into dissipation and the drunkard’s craving.
But even the classes which contain most of our hard drinkers seem
really to care little for whisky, for they are not resorting to the
saloons in any such number as was expected. Some seem to have formed
the buttermilk or some similar habit, and have no inclination to
return to the saloon—doubtless greatly to the happiness of their wives
and the comfort of their children.
Habit, Not Appetite.
Whether this will last we do not know. Probably not. Mankind is
gregarious, and the only public roof under which men may gather for
the free enjoyment of a pipe and a friendly chat is the roof of the
saloon. Therefore they will go to the saloon, and keep going until
society tempts them away with something at least equally attractive.
They can go to the Young Men’s Christian Association, but they don’t
want to. They will not be allowed to light their pipes, put their feet
on the table, lean back in their chairs and blow smoke-rings to the
ceiling.
Not even the public libraries do anything to draw men from the
saloons. They must be “decorous,” take off their hats, and be silent.
They don’t want to. Every public library should have a smoking-room
where ordinary conversation is allowed. It will not disturb those who
are reading. If it does they can go to other rooms.
The fact that it is habit and not appetite that is to be dealt with is
the psychological basis of the so-called Gothenberg plan. On that plan
all the saloons of a city are conducted by a corporation, whose
members receive as dividends only a fixed, moderate interest on the
investment, all profits above that going, in some form, to the public.
There is no “bar.”
The Gothenberg Plan.
Customers sit at a table and their liquor is served to them. All
saloons must keep “soft drinks” and give them at least as much
prominence as is given to strong drinks. Under no circumstances is any
attendant to have any interest in the sales of liquor, although in
some cases he is allowed a commission on soft drinks and other
refreshments.
No one is permitted to get intoxicated on the premises. There is no
attempt to compel men to abstain. There is a continual temptation to
do so. The army canteen was based on this theory, and was a most
useful institution until some misguided women abolished it and drove
the soldiers to debauchery. Nothing else was to be expected, or was
expected, by the experienced.
The experience of this city proves that the drink habit is not
difficult to overcome—not, however, by coercion, but by temptation.
And men cannot be tempted to any extent by any efforts which have the
missionary or altruistic flavor. Men wish to assemble in public places
where there is entire freedom as to dress and appearance, and where
there is no danger that anybody will solicit them to become better
men. They are not only willing, but desire, to spend something for the
“good of the house” and their own entertainment.
If society will provide them with such a place a good many will go
there in preference to a saloon. If, at the same time, all saloons are
abolished, they will speedily content themselves with such substitutes
as we have suggested.
All of which would seem to support the theory that the saloon is “the
poor man’s club.”