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OVER HERE
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THE STORY OF "OVER THERE"
EVERY AMERICAN SHOULD READ IT
-----------------------------
HOW TO LIVE AT THE FRONT
BY HECTOR MACQUARRIE, B.A., Cantab.
Lieutenant, Royal Field Artillery
Illustrated, $1.35 net
"A Masterpiece"--NEW YORK SUN
_Your Son, Brother or Friend in Arms_
It is your duty to instruct and advise him as to what is in
store for him at the front. This book will give you the
facts,--read it and counsel your boy for his physical and
spiritual good, or better still send him a copy and call his
attention to the chapters that you think will be of the
greatest value to him.
_If You Are an American_
Read it for the true facts it will give you of the living
and working and fighting under actual war conditions. It
will help you understand what difficulties face our army,
both officers and men, in France. You will thereafter read
the war news and letters from the front with deeper sympathy
and greater understanding.
[Illustration]
OVER HERE
IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA
BY A BRITISH OFFICER
HECTOR MACQUARRIE, B.A., Cantab.
SECOND LIEUTENANT, ROYAL FIELD ARTILLERY
AUTHOR OF "HOW TO LIVE AT THE FRONT"
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
1918
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
PUBLISHED APRIL, 1918
PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS
PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A.
TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER
A MacQUARRIE OF ULVA WHO
DIED ON DECEMBER 24, 1917
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
PREFACE
A DEFENSIVE BARRAGE
During a year spent largely in Pennsylvania, with occasional visits to
other states, I have found little to criticise, but rather much to
admire, much indeed to love. America now means a great deal to me, since
it contains so many people that I have learnt to care for, so I want to
let my cousins as well as my own countrymen know my thoughts.
From the day that I landed in New York until the present moment, I have
been treated with a kindliness that surpasses anything I thought possible
in this world. I have been able to see, I hope, where misunderstanding
has arisen, and, being a Highland Scotchman, I am able to express my
feelings.
I have written more about persons than about places. Sometimes I laugh a
little, but never unkindly; and I do this because I realize that
American people rather appreciate a joke even at their own expense.
Often I have heard, over here, that it is impossible for an Englishman
to see a good joke. A man told me once that the Kaiser was disguising
his submarines as jests, with an obvious design. The idea was interesting
to me, because if there is one thing that we Britons pride ourselves
upon, it is our sense of humour. Of course, the explanation is obvious.
Most humour is based upon the surprising incidents and coincidents of
domestic relations, and how on earth are we poor British to appreciate
specious American humour when we know nothing of American home life, and
but little of American society?
When I arrived here first, I regarded the funny page of a newspaper as
pure drivel; now I never miss having a good laugh when I read it. I have
become educated. Once or twice in these letters I have slanged my own
countrymen, but my American friends will not misunderstand, I am quite
sure. If I were an American, perhaps I should have the right to
criticise the American people.
During these times of stress it is difficult to concentrate upon
anything not connected with the war, and so these papers have been
written, sometimes sitting in a parlor car, sometimes at peace in my
room at Bethlehem, and sometimes at meetings while awaiting my turn to
speak. So I apologize for much that is careless in my effort towards
good English, hoping that my readers will realize that while I desire to
amuse them, still underlying much that is flippant, there is a definite
hope that I shall succeed just a little in helping to cement a strong
intelligent friendship between the two great Anglo-Saxon nations.
HECTOR MACQUARRIE.
BETHLEHEM, PA., November, 1917.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A NAVAL BATTLE FOLLOWED BY SERVICE AT SEA 11
II. NEW YORK SHELLED WITH SHRAPNEL AND AN ENTRANCE
MADE TO THE "HOLY CITY" 17
III. SOCIAL AMENITIES IN "BACK BILLETS" 36
IV. "VERY'S LIGHTS" 46
V. A CHRISTMAS TRUCE 52
VI. GERMAN FRIGHTFUL FOOLISHNESS! A NEW ALLY!
THE HATCHET SHOWS SIGNS OF BECOMING BURIED 77
VII. SOME BRITISH SHELLS FALL SHORT 84
VIII. LACRYMATORY SHELLS 95
IX. SHELLS 113
X. SUBMARINES 129
XI. AN OFFENSIVE BOMBARDMENT 137
XII. SIX DAY'S LEAVE 146
XIII. GUNS AND CARRIAGES 162
XIV. A PREMATURE 180
XV. "BON FOR YOU: NO BON FOR ME" 188
XVI. A NAVAL VICTORY 196
XVII. POISONOUS GAS 209
XVIII. THROUGH PENNSYLVANIA 219
OVER HERE
I
A NAVAL BATTLE FOLLOWED BY SERVICE AT SEA
R. M. S. BEGONIA, Atlantic Ocean,
August 30, 1917.
When I was told that I should possibly visit America I was not quite
certain how I liked the idea. To be sure I had never been to the United
States, but to leave the comparative peace of the war zone to spend my
days amidst the noise and racket of machine shops and steel mills,
accompanied by civilians, was not altogether attractive. Nevertheless
there was a great deal that seemed interesting in the scheme, and on the
whole I felt glad.
After being invalided from Ypres I had spent some time in a convalescent
home, and I finally joined a reserve brigade on what is termed "light
duty." While here, I was ordered to hold myself in readiness to proceed
to America as an inspector of production, which meant that I was to help
in every possible way the production of guns and carriages. My job would
be to help the main contractor as far as possible by visiting the
sub-contractors, and by letting the people at home know (through the
proper channels) of anything that would assist the manufacturer.
My ideas about America are slightly mixed. Like all my countrymen, I
rather refuse to acknowledge the independence of the United States. They
are relations, and who ever heard of cousins maintaining diplomatic
relations amongst themselves and being independent at the same time. Of
course, many cousins, especially of the enthusiastic and original type,
rather seek a certain independence, but, alas, they never get it; so we
still regard the American people as part of ourselves, and, of course,
make a point of showing them the more unpleasant features of their
national character. Of course, they may enjoy this, but on the other
hand, they may not. I don't know. Perhaps I shall find out.
It is a little difficult to understand their attitude in regard to the
Germans. We dislike them. They ought to.
However, before proceeding to America, I was ordered to tour the
munition plants of the British Isles. I enjoyed this very much and was
astonished at the cleverness displayed by my fellow countrymen, and
especially by my fellow countrywomen. The latter were seen by the
thousands. Some were hard at work on turret lathes turning out fuses
like tin tacks. Others, alleged by my guide to be "society women,"
whatever that may mean, were doing work of a more difficult nature. They
were dressed in khaki overalls and looked attractive. Some young persons
merely went about in a graceful manner wielding brooms, sweeping up the
floor. There always seemed a young lady in front of one, sweeping up the
floor. I felt like doffing my cap with a graceful sweep and saying,
"Madam, permit me." I was examining a great big 9.2 Howitzer gun and
carriage ready for proof, and I found three old ladies sitting behind it
having a really good old gossip. They hopped up in some confusion and
looked rather guilty, as I at once felt. This used to be called
"pointing" when I worked in a machine shop. I saw the luncheon rooms
provided for the women. When women do things there is always a graceful
touch about somewhere which is unmistakable. The men in charge of
several of the plants I visited remarked that, generally speaking, the
women were more easily managed than the men, except when they were
closely related to the men, and that then awkward situations sometimes
arose. I believe there is a lady in charge called a moral forewoman.
The women have to wear a sort of bathing cap over their hair. Some of
them hate this--naturally. A woman's glory has been alleged to be her
hair, but this remark was made before the modern wig was developed, so I
don't know whether it applies now or not. However, the order has to be
insisted upon. One poor girl, working a crane, had her hair caught in
the pinions, and unfortunately lost most of her scalp. I won't vouch
for the truth of this statement, but a full typed account of the
accident was being circulated while I was visiting several large
munition plants. Of course, the object was to let the ladies see, that
while their glory might be manifested to the workmen for a time, there
were certain risks of losing the glory altogether--and was it worth
while?
I visited Glasgow and saw many wonderful things. In a weak endeavour to
jump over a table, I caught my foot somehow or other, and came an awful
cropper on my elbow, and I nearly died with pain, but after three days
in the hospital I started off on my journey. Later I received an army
form charging me with thirty days' ration allowance for time spent in
Glasgow Military Hospital. I refused to sign this, but I dare say they
will get the money all right; however, I won't know about it, and that
is all that matters.
Finally, I returned to London, and after passing with some difficulty a
rigid examination presided over by my chief, I lunched with him at the
Reform Club, and then spent a few busy hours buying civilian clothes.
Later I met my Major's wife who was in a worried condition over one big
thing and another little thing. The big trouble was caused by her
husband's unfortunate collision with a 5.9 shell; the little thing was
caused by the fact that the Major's Airedale, Jack, had had an
unfortunate incident with a harmless lamb, which made his stay in the
country difficult, if not impossible. I had to relieve her of Jack so
that all her attention might be devoted to the Major. The next day, I
took him home to the country, hoping that the lady of the manor would
suggest his staying there. She might have done so if he had shown an
humble spirit. He dashed into the pond, disturbed the life out of the
tiny moorhens, and, worse still, sent scurrying into the air about a
dozen tame wild duck. This sealed his fate as regards the manor, so I
decided that he would have to go to America with me. I had few
objections, but I regretted that he was so big.
He caused me much trouble and a little anxiety, but finally I got him
safely on board the Cunarder. The captain seemed to like him all right,
and so did many passengers, but he made much noise and eventually had to
spend the greater part of his life in an unpleasant dungeon on one of
the lower decks. Here he was accompanied by a well bred wire-haired fox
terrier. This fox terrier gave birth, during the voyage, to seven little
puppies, and the purser alleged that he would charge freight for eight
dogs; thereby showing a commercial spirit but little humour, or perhaps
too much humour.
These notes are being written during the last days of the journey. I am
enjoying the whole thing. I sit at the Captain's table accompanied by
another officer from the navy, a correspondent of the _Daily Mail_, and
a Bostonian and his wife whom I love rather, since I have always liked
Oliver Wendell Holmes. The Bostonian is a splendid chap, turned out in
an English cut suit which he hates because it seems to him too loose. I
think that he looks ripping. I always agree with his arguments, feeling
it to be safer; but I had to put in just a mild protest, when he
observed that America could equip an army in six weeks, that would lick
any Continental army. Of course, this showed some optimism, and a great
faith.
We were comparatively happy, however, until the naval chap had an
unfortunate altercation with the Bostonian. They both meant well, I am
sure, but sea travelling often changes the mental perspective of people,
and the Bostonian sought another table.
We expect to arrive in two days and I am looking forward to seeing New
York and the skyscrapers.
II
NEW YORK SHELLED WITH SHRAPNEL AND AN ENTRANCE MADE TO THE "HOLY CITY"
BETHLEHEM, U. S. A., October 30, 1917.
After passing through several days of dense fog we at last arrived off
the Statue of Liberty, and commenced to thread our way up the Hudson
River.
What a wonderful approach New York has. I felt that anything merely
"American" ought not to be so beautiful. It ought to have been flimsy
and cheap looking. My mind rushed back to London and Tilbury Docks,
where upon arrival one feels most depressed. For dear old London cannot
impress a stranger when he first gets there.
The colouring of the great skyscrapers is so beautiful, sometimes white,
sometimes rusty red, always gay and cheerful. Besides being marvellous
products of engineering skill, they display architectural beauty. When
man tries to vie with nature in matters of beauty, he generally comes
off second best, but the high buildings when seen from the Hudson at
dusk approach very closely to nature's own loveliness. Cheery little
puffs of snowy white steam float around, and when the lights start to
twinkle from every window one thinks of fairy land. In the dusk the
buildings seem to form a great natural cliff, all jagged and decently
untidy.
Finally, we were safely docked and the naval fellow and I were at a loss
to know where to go, until we were met by an energetic looking man with
a kindly face, called Captain H----. I have never been able to decide
whether this chap is an American citizen, an officer in the Canadian
army, a sea captain, or what.
This officer was a great help to us in getting through the customs. He
expressed astonishment at the large amount of baggage possessed by the
naval walla and myself. He remarked bitingly that he had travelled
around the world with a "grip." We believed it. I dared not tell him
about Jack. I was unable to land that gentleman until he had been
appraised, so I said nothing about him. Finally we got into a taxi, an
untidy looking conveyance, and commenced to drive through the streets of
New York to our hotel. I noted that the people living near and around
the docks had almost a Southern European appearance. There seemed to be
numbers of fruit stands, and the windows in all the houses had shades of
variegated colours, mostly maroon and grey.
We drove up Fifth Avenue and finally reached our hotel. I am not going
to give you now my impressions of New York. I always think that it is an
impertinence to write about a city when one has only dwelt in it a few
days. I thought, however, that the road seemed a bit bumpy, and I must
admit that I disliked the taxicab.
Arriving at the hotel we walked up some elegant steps and approached a
place suggesting almost a throne, or a row of stalls in a cathedral.
There was a counter in front, and behind it there stood several men,
very clean looking and superior. With these our guide held converse. He
spoke in a low and ingratiating voice, very humble. The chap behind the
desk, a fellow with black curly hair and an anxious, competent
expression, did not lower his voice, but looked disdainfully at him and
finally agreed to let us have some rooms. The American hotel clerks, the
"e" pronounced as in jerk, are veritable tyrants. Someone said that
America having refused to have kings and dukes, had enthroned hotel
clerks and head waiters in their places.
We had a charming luncheon. During the meal we listened to perfectly
ripping music. Amidst the sound of the violins and other things the soft
tones of a pipe-organ could be heard; the music was sweet and mellow and
the players seemed to be hidden. As a matter of fact, they were in a
gallery near the roof. Unlike in some London restaurants, one could hear
oneself speak.
American food and its manner of being served differs from ours. I think
it is much nicer. H---- ordered the meal, which we liked very much. We
had clams, which are somewhat like the cockles one gets on the English
coast, but are much larger. They are served daintily amidst a lot of
mushy ice. One "eats" bread and butter throughout the meal instead of
"playing" with it as we do.
After luncheon, we went down town to interview our respective superiors.
I found my chief in the Mutual Building. He is a humourous Scotchman of
the Lowland variety, with a kindly eye and a good deal of his Scotch
accent left. I liked him at once, and we had a long chat about common
friends in England. He put me in the hands of an Englishman whose duty
it was to look after my reports, etc. This man seemed a keen sort of
fellow. Unfortunately, he decided at once that I belonged to the effete
aristocracy--why I don't know--and with his keen manner let me know it.
He was the sort of man who makes a fellow feel himself to be entirely
useless and unnecessary. I felt depressed after leaving him. As a matter
of fact, I have been told that he has done a large amount of work for us
and is a splendid chap.
Later he confided to H----, and H---- confided to us, that a man who
could bring a well bred and valuable Airedale across the Atlantic in war
time could not possibly do any work. This was damning to start with, but
it is easily understood. That type of man, possessing terrific will
power allied to well developed efficiency who has reached a good
position, naturally regards with a certain amount of contempt the
fellow who is placed upon equality with him, and who has not had similar
struggles. However, he was very kind to me, and endeavoured to hide his
feelings, with little success, alas!
I spent four or five days in New York. I went to several shows, amongst
others the Winter Garden and Ziegfeld's Follies; they were very
interesting. The scenery at the latter was distinctly original. I do not
know very much about art, but I am certain that what I saw would come
under the heading of the Futurist School. There was a great deal that
was thoroughly amusing and interesting. Americans seem to have a sense
of fun rather than a sense of humour. Shakespeare is caricatured a great
deal. I thought that much of the dancing, and the performance of the
chorus generally, bordered on the _risque_. There seems, also, to be a
type of _comedienne_ who comes forward and talks to the people in a
diverting way. She is sometimes about forty years old, makes no attempt
to look beautiful, but just says deliciously funny things. She is often
seen and heard in America. I have also seen the same type at La Cigale
in Montmartre.
It is just a little difficult at first to get the same sort of tobacco
here that one gets in England. The second day after my arrival in New
York, I went into a tobacconist shop to buy a pipe and some tobacco. I
spent about six dollars, and handed the man behind the counter a twenty
dollar bill. Obviously, I was a little unused to American money, but I
naturally expected to get back fourteen dollars. The man gave me four
one dollar bills, then about six smaller bills with twenty-five written
on them, and prepared to bow me out. I looked at the change and saw that
the poor fellow had given me too much. Deciding to be honest I returned
to him and said, "You have given me wrong change." He looked
unconcerned, and going to the cash register subtracted ten more one
dollar bills. I was still more astonished and once more examined my
change. Then I understood that the small bills were coupons, and the
clever gentleman, realizing that I was a stranger and a little worried,
had endeavored to make money. Honesty in this case proved the best
policy.
I enjoyed these days. I met but few American people. I was very much
overcome with admiration for New York, and I told this to an American
friend. He seemed pleased, but commenced to point out certain drawbacks.
He said that the high buildings were rather awkward things, and that
people walking about on the pavement below were sometimes nearly blown
off their feet during a gale. They formed canyons. He said that the
lighting problem presented difficulties, too, and that he thought the
health of the people might suffer a little if their days were spent in
artificial light. Still he unwillingly admitted that he loved New York.
The stores where soft drinks are sold are very charming. The drinks are
wonderful and varied, and one sees what appear to be women of quality
perched up on stools drinking what look to be the most delicious drinks.
I should like to test them, and I will some day when I find out their
names.
One day I was walking down Fifth Avenue, it was very hot, so I entered
what appeared to be a "sweet" shop. Buxom, handsome young women were
behind the long counter, so I approached one and humbly asked for a
"lemon squash." "Wotsat?" she barked, and looked annoyed. "A lemon
squash," I repeated. She seemed to think that I was insulting her, and
her friends gathered around. Finally I said: "Give me anything you like
as long as it is cool." "Got yer check?" she replied. I begged her
pardon. Looking furious, she indicated a small desk behind which another
young lady sat, and I went over and confided in her. She smiled and
explained that I really wanted a lemonade or a lemon phosphate. I denied
any desire for a lemon phosphate. Are not phosphates used for
agricultural purposes? This young lady was awfully decent and said, "How
do you like York?" but before I could reply she said, "York! It's the
finest place in the world." I said I liked it very much indeed, but of
course there were other places, and what sayeth the text, "One star
differeth from another star in glory." All was going well until
"Peanut," a tall animated straw I had known on the ship rushed in
laughing like a jackass. He seemed to regard New York as something too
funny for words, and giggled like an idiot.
Now I am sure that these young ladies must be very nice, gentle, tame
creatures to people who know them, but they frighten me. I desire only
to please, but the more pleasantly I behave to them the more I seem to
insult them. Some day I am going to enter one of these stores and bark
out my order and see what happens.
I have now been in Bethlehem about two weeks. P----, a sapper subaltern,
conducted me down to the great steel town. With Jack and all my luggage
we left New York at nine o'clock.
In order to get to Bethlehem it is necessary to cross the river to
Jersey City. We got on board the ferry boat at West Twenty-third Street,
and after a ten minutes' ride in the large, capacious boat we reached
Jersey City. The trip was very interesting. Arriving at Jersey City, we
had a good deal of trouble with Jack, but finally got him safely stowed
away in a baggage van, and succeeded in finding our chairs in the
Pullman. This was my first experience of American trains. The thing I
was most conscious of was the terrific heat. The windows were open but
gauze screens made to keep the dust out succeeded only in keeping most
of the fresh air from entering. I do not like these American trains. One
may not smoke in the coach, but anyone desiring to do so must retreat to
the end part of the carriage and take a seat in a rather small
compartment. The thing that one is chiefly conscious of on entering this
compartment is the presence of several spittoons. We lunched on the
train, and here I may say that the food arrangements on the American
trains are excellent. One may order almost anything, and the service is
very good. It is impossible to order anything stronger than lemonade,
ginger ale, root beer, and the like; however, one can get ices and cool
things generally and, of course, "Bevo," which looks, smells, and tastes
like beer, but it "hab not the authority," as the coloured porter said.
After a little over two hours' journey we reached Bethlehem. One's first
impressions of the town are extremely depressing. Upon alighting from
the train one sees old bits of paper lying about, banana skins, peanut
shells, dirt, dust, everything unpleasant and incidentally a very untidy
looking station building. The whole appearance around the place is
suggestive not merely of newness, but worn-out newness. I felt that life
in Bethlehem, judging by the look of the station, would be extremely
depressing.
We arrived at the Inn, while our luggage came on in a wagon. I decided
to stay for a time at the Eagle Hotel. I registered and asked for a room
"with." That means that I wanted a private bathroom. The clerk on this
occasion was a good-looking boy of about nineteen, assisted by a tall
very pretty dark young lady.
After getting settled in the room I then thought of Jack, and a negro
boy offered to take him and lock him up in the garage behind the hotel.
This was done and as P---- and I walked away from the hotel we could
hear fierce barking and yelping.
At the Steel Office, I met one or two of the Steel Company officials and
members of the British Inspection Staff. We walked about throughout the
plant and P---- introduced me to quite a number of the men. Later on I
shall tell a deal about this great Steel Company, so I will not go into
detailed descriptions now.
These first days were strange and ought to have been interesting, and
they were in many ways. Bethlehem is a strange sort of town. It seems to
be divided by a wide, shallow stream called the Lehigh. On one side the
place is almost suggestive of the East, or Southern Europe. There seem
to be many cheerful electric signs about, and the streets are mostly in
the form of avenues.
I think that I will not describe towns and places, but rather tell of
the people I meet and the impressions I glean of their characteristics.
Of course, when I give you an impression it will be a purely local one.
In the same way that it is impossible for a stranger in England to judge
us from the writings of Arnold Bennett when he places all his characters
in the five towns, so what I say about Bethlehem will merely tell a
little about the people living in a small town, and a town that has
suddenly grown from importance as a religious centre to the
insignificance of a great steel city, for it must be the products of
this city that will interest the people at large. Now I have lived
before in similar cities in our country, and I know that the attendants
upon great steel furnaces are not at all insignificant, but possess all
the interesting qualities that man is heir to.
I had a scene with the hotel keeper upon my first return from the steel
plant. He hated my dog and told me that the dog and I together made an
impossible combination for his house, and that I might stay if I
insisted, but _not_ with the dog.
There was nowhere else to go so I decided that Jack would have to leave
me. I hated it, but finally came to the conclusion that for a person
seriously inclined to serve his country in America, a dog approached
being a nuisance. The petty official American people don't seem to treat
a dog with a great amount of respect.
Fortunately, a friend--one of the steel officials--offered to look
after him. Jack will guard the steel official's house and will have a
happy home; so that is all right.
Opposite the Eagle Hotel is a large square sort of building with a low
tower. From the base of the tower rise about eight pillars which support
the belfry above, thus forming an open platform.
At an early hour, one morning, I was awakened by an extraordinary noise.
At first it reminded me of a salvation army band being played, not very
well. As I awoke the music seemed familiar and my mind at once jumped
back to New Zealand days when I belonged to a Bach Society in which we
found great difficulty in singing anything but the chorales, owing to
the smallness of our numbers. I got up and going to the window saw a
number of men standing on the platform blowing trombones with some
earnestness. They played several of Bach's chorales and then ceased. The
general effect was pleasing.
After breakfast I asked the landlord what the building opposite was, and
he said it was the Moravian church. He told me that the Moravians had
been in Bethlehem for a long time, and agreed that they were a sect of
sorts. I had often heard of strange sects generating in America like the
Mennonites and Christian Scientists; the Moravians must be a similar
sect.
I am feeling a little lonely here. I never meet any of my countrymen. I
suppose that they are very busy with their families, and B----, who has
been showing me much attention, is away at the Pocono Mountains with
some friends. I heard to-day that most of the people were returning from
summer resorts quite soon, so perhaps they may prove interesting. I have
met quite a number of the steel men. L---- has very kindly allowed me to
have a desk in his office. He seems a decent sort of chap. I feel,
however, that I may be in his way, but he does not seem to mind, so I
suppose it is all right.
On Friday morning last, while I was dressing I heard a band approaching
and completing my toilet I stepped out on to the balcony and saw an
extraordinary sight. First of all appeared two men riding horses with
untidy manes, but wearing an important aspect. Following them came a
band playing a stately march, but cheerful. Then came a wonderful
procession of gentlemen wearing spotlessly white breeches, white blazers
edged with purple, straw hats with a purple band and parasols made of
purple and white cloth. Each quarter of the umbrella was either white or
purple. They marched in open formation keeping perfect time. The whole
effect was extremely decorative. There were several hundred of them. I
have heard since that they are the Elks, a sort of secret society, and
they were having a demonstration at Reading.
The tradesmen, and indeed all the people in Bethlehem, love to process.
(I realize the vulgarity of the verb "process," but I have got to use
it.) Each Elk looked thoroughly happy and contented. I suppose the
climate of this place is telling on the people. It would be difficult to
imagine our tradesmen and business men doing a similar thing. I believe
the idea is to keep up enthusiasm. American men realize the tremendous
value of enthusiasm and they seek to exploit it. They know, too, how we
humans all love to dress up, and so they do dress up. The people looking
on love to see it all, and no one laughs. I don't quite know what the
Elks exist for, but I suppose they form a mutual benefit society of
sorts. I was thrilled with the performance, and hoped that similar
processions would pass often.
My work at the office, and throughout the shops keeps me very busy. It
is all very new and I feel in a strange world. However, everywhere I go
I am met with the most wonderful kindness imaginable.
The people seem very interested in the war. It is difficult to get a
true viewpoint of their attitude here. I was not deceived when a fat
looking mature man said with a hoarse laugh that the United States
definition of neutrality was that "They didn't give a hang who licked
the Kaiser first." Another American observed bitterly, "As long as Uncle
Sam hasn't got to do it." So far as I can see, the more careless people
are perfectly content to carry on and are not very interested except to
regard the war as a rather stale thrill. People of this type regard a
decent murder or a fire in the same way.
The more thoughtful are not quite sure. They have studied history and
want to stick to Washington's advice in regard to entangling alliances.
They feel that we will be able to lick the Boche all right, and they are
with us in the struggle. The entirely careless and futile persons take
different attitudes each day. They sometimes "root" for us, especially
France, whom they regard as very much America's friend. At other times
they take a depressed view, and think that the Boche will win the war.
They sometimes wax rude and make that peculiarly insulting statement
about the British fighting until the last Frenchman dies.
I have not met many women here, but the few I have met seem to regard us
as fools to fight over nothing. Nevertheless, they sympathize with our
sufferings, as women will. I met one lady last night who seemed to think
that America would be drawn into the war owing to French and British
intrigue, and she expressed thanks to a good Providence who had made her
son's eyes a little wrong so that she would not lose him. She thinks
that he will not be able to do much shooting. They are all very nice to
me, and everywhere I go it seems impossible for the people to show too
much kindness. I am astonished at the beauty of the houses here. They
are all tastefully furnished and one misses the display of wealth. The
houses don't seem to be divided into rooms quite like English houses.
Portieres often divide apartment from apartment, and upon festive
occasions the whole bottom floor can be turned into one large room. The
effect is pleasing, but one perhaps misses a certain snugness, and it
must be difficult for the servants not to hear everything that goes on.
Perhaps the American people think it is a good idea to let their
servants hear the truth, knowing that they will find out most things in
any case.
On the other side of the river and around the steel plant the people
seem definitely foreign, and it is quite easy to imagine oneself in a
Southern European town. The shops have Greek, Russian, Italian,
Hungarian, and German signs over their doors. It is unnecessary to look
into the store in order to find out what is being sold. One need only
look into the ditch running beside the pavement. Masses of rotting
orange and banana skins will show a fruit store. Much straw and old
pieces of cardboard with lengths of pink tape will indicate a draper's.
Tufts of hair and burnt out matches will show where the barber shop is.
The people all spit about the streets in this part of the town. I
suppose the streets are cleaned sometimes, but never very well. At any
rate, the whole mass is mixed up together in the mud and slush which
accumulates, and when this dries it is blown into the air and any
citizen passing breathes it. The roads in this part of the town are full
of shell craters and one is bumped to pieces as one motors along. I have
been told that this cannot well be helped.
The steel plant has caused a terrific influx of people and it is
impossible to house them all. A doctor chap tells me that in many large
rooming houses a bed has always at least two occupants during the
twenty-four hours. When the man goes off to work in the morning, the
fellow who has been working on night shift takes his place. I believe
that soon the two parts of this town are going to join and that then
they will form a city which will be able to borrow enough money to keep
the place in first class order. The people are not poor and indeed there
are sometimes quite thrilling murders, I have heard, for the ignorant
foreigners keep all their money in a chest under their beds or hidden in
some way. I hear that this was caused by clever German propaganda. The
Boche envoys went about and suggested to the people that if the United
States entered the war they would soon be _strafed_ by the fatherland,
and that in any case, the Government would pinch all of their money.
Opposite the steel works office there are two photographic studios. All
the people photographed are of Southern European blood. One sees happy
brides, merry babies, and last, but not least, many corpses surrounded
by sad but interested relatives. When one of these foreigners dies
things change for him at once. He is placed in a beautiful coffin, lined
with the most comfortable looking fluffy figured satin. His head rests
on a great big cushion. The side of the coffin, called here a casket, is
hinged and falls down, thus forming a couch, on which the dead person
rests. Before the funeral, all the friends, and whoever can get there in
time, group themselves around the corpse and are photographed. If the
coffin is not a very convenient type, it is raised, and one sees the
corpse, dressed in his best clothes, with a watch chain across his
waistcoat, surrounded by all his friends who, I am sure, are looking
their best. Sometimes a sweet wee baby can be seen in the picture, lying
in its expensive coffin, while the father and mother and the other
children stand near. It is a funny idea and a little horrible, I think.
These gruesome photographs are exposed in the front window. It is a
curious thing that the more ignorant amongst us seem to enjoy a good
funeral.
I expect, that within a couple of years, this town will be a beautiful
city with parks and good roads. The climate is certainly good and the
hills around are fine. The steel company now dominates the place,
business has taken charge of the people here, but the natural beauty of
this spot can never be changed. Let me quote from the writings of a man
who arrived here many years ago. He was very much impressed with the
beauty of the hills:
"The high hills around Bethlehem in the month of October present a scene
of gorgeous beauty almost beyond description. The foliage of the trees
contains all the tints of the rainbow, but is even more beautiful, if
that is possible, because the colours are more diffused. Some trees, the
pine, the hemlock, and the laurel still retain their vivid green; the
sycamore its sombre brown; the maple, the beauty of the wood and valley,
is parti coloured; its leaves, green at first, soon turn into a
brilliant red and yellow; the sturdy oak is clothed in purple, the gum
is dressed in brilliant red; the sumac bushes are covered with leaves of
brightest crimson; the beech with those of a delicate pale yellow almost
white; the chestnut a buff; while the noble hickory hangs with golden
pendants; the dogwood has its deep rich red leaves and clusters of
berries of a brighter red."
In spite of the great steel plant, Bethlehem still nests in a very
lovely valley, and during the autumn the hills are just as gorgeously
beautiful as when John Hill Martin, the writer of the above, visited the
town.
III
SOCIAL AMENITIES IN "BACK BILLETS"
BETHLEHEM, December 20, 1917.
A Country Club seems to be an American institution. We don't seem to
have them. They are primarily for the folk who live in towns. American
folk like to get together as much as possible and to be sociable.
Please remember that all my friends here are steel people and generally
rich. Some belong to quite old families, but whatever they are they have
all got something attractive about them.
It would be quite possible for most of them to build huge castles in the
country, and to live there during the summer, away out from the noise
and dirt; but they don't. They like to be all together, so they build
beautiful houses quite close up to the street, with no fences around
them. Pleasant and well kept lawns go right down to the road, and anyone
can walk on the grass. A single street possibly contains the houses of
several wealthy families. They all rush about together and give
wonderful dinners. As their number is not great, the diners ought to get
a little tired of one another, but they don't seem to. I have had the
honour of attending many of these dinners. They are fine. The women
dress beautifully, and often tastefully and the dinner goes merrily on,
everyone talking at once. We are all fearfully happy and young. No one
grows up here in America. It's fine to feel young. We start off in quite
a dignified fashion, but before the chicken or goose arrives we are all
happy and cheerful.
It is impossible to be bored in Bethlehem at a good dinner. I suppose
the object of a hostess is to make her guests happy. Most men here in
Jericho work fearfully hard. Men in England often go to Paris or London
to have a really hilarious time. In Bethlehem a man can be amused at
home with his own wife and friends, and he certainly is. He may be fifty
and a king of industry, but that does not prevent him from being the
jolliest fellow in the world and brimming over with fun.
Perhaps Bethlehem is a little different from most towns in this country.
A man here becomes rich; he has attained riches generally because he is
a thundering good fellow--a leader of men. That is the point. One used
to think of a wealthy American man as a rather vulgar person with coarse
manners. American men have good manners, as a rule. They have better
manners than we have, especially towards women.
Now the folk like to be in the country at times, but they don't care to
be alone in enjoying it. Also, they like golf and tennis, so a club is
established about six miles out from a town. The actual building is
large and tastefully decorated. It displays American architecture at its
very best. There are generally three large rooms with folding doors or
portieres, and beautifully carpeted. The whole floor can be turned into
a dancing room with tables all around, so that one may both dance and
eat. Dinner starts off mildly; one gets through the soup, looks at one's
partner and mentally decides how many dances one will have with her. She
may be fat, slender, skinny, beautiful; she may be old, middle aged, or
a flapper, but whatever she is she can dance. It is all interesting. If
one's partner is nineteen or twenty she can dance well, and it behooves
a new man to be careful.
I can dance the English waltz, I believe, but I can't at present dance
anything else but the one-step. I find this exhilarating, but I have to
confine myself to ladies of thirty-five and upwards, who realize the
situation, and we dash around in a cheerful manner, much to the
annoyance of the debutante. I have not danced with any very young people
yet. I would not dare.
If you are a particularly bad dancer, after the first halt, caused by
the orchestra stopping, a young male friend of hers will "cut in" on
you, and you are left, and your opportunity of dancing with mademoiselle
for more than one length of the room is gone. American young men will
never allow a debutante to suffer. In any case she arranges with a batch
of young friends to "cut in" if you are seen dancing with her. It is all
done very gracefully. To dance with an American debutante requires
skill. She dances beautifully. Her body swings gracefully with the
music, her feet seem to be elastic. At all costs you must not be at all
rough. You must let your feet become as elastic as hers and delicately
and gently swing with the music.
Although the fox-trot and the one-step are now in vogue, there is
nothing that is not nice about these dances when danced by two young
people. If your partner is a good dancer it is impossible to dance for
very long with her. A sturdy swain approaches with a smile and says to
you, "May I cut in?" She bows gracefully and you are lost. At all costs
this must be taken cheerfully. The first time it occurred to me I
replied, "Certainly not." I now know that I was guilty of a breach of
etiquette.
If you are dancing with an indifferent dancer, there is no danger of
being "cut in" on. If your object in dancing with a lady is purely a
matter of duty, you shamelessly arrange with several friends to "cut in"
on you, meanwhile promising to do likewise for them. Ungallant this, but
it ensures the lady having a dance with several people which perhaps she
would not otherwise get, and she understands. Generally speaking there
are no "wall flowers." They retire upstairs to powder their noses.
There is the mature lady, fair, fat and forty, who dances about with a
cheery fellow her own age. Enjoyment shines from their faces as they
one-step, suggesting a quick stately march let loose. The lady wears a
broad hat suitably decorated and a "shirtwaist" of fitting dimensions. A
string of pearls encircles her neck. One sees charming stockings, and
beautiful shoes covering quite small feet. This must be a great
compensation to a woman at her prime--her feet. They can be made
charming when nicely decorated. The face is generally good looking and
sometimes looks suitably wicked. It is well powdered, and perhaps just a
little rouged. One sees some wonderful diamonds, too.
Perhaps I have seen things just a little vaguely owing to American
cocktails. We can't make cocktails in England as they do in America, and
that is a fact. The very names given to them here are attractive: Jack
Rose, Clover Club, Manhattan, Bronx, and numerous others. They are well
decorated, too.
The really exciting time at a country club is on Saturday night. In
Bethlehem where there are no theatres, all the fashionable folk motor
out to the country club for dinner. Generally the dancing space is
fairly crowded and a little irritating for the debutantes. Still they
are quite good-natured about it and only smile when a large freight
locomotive in the form of mama and papa collides with them.
After about fifteen minutes, while one is eating an entree, the music
starts, and if your partner consents, you get up and dance for about ten
minutes and then return to the entree, now cold. This goes on during the
whole dinner. I wonder if it aids digestion.
After dinner we all leave the tables and spread ourselves about the
large rooms. The ladies generally sit about, and the men go downstairs.
This presents possibilities. However, most of one's time is spent
upstairs with the women folk. Dancing generally goes on until about
midnight, and then the more fashionable among us go into the house of a
couple of bachelors. Here we sit about and have quite diverting times.
Finally at about two o'clock we adjourn to our respective homes and
awake in the morning a little tired. However, this is compensated for by
the cocktail party the next day.
What pitfalls there are for the unwary!
One night, during a party at the club, a very great friend of mine asked
me to come over to her house at noon the next day. I took this, in my
ignorance, to be an invitation to lunch, and the next morning I called
her up and said that I had forgotten at what time she expected me _to
lunch_. "Come along at twelve o'clock, Mac," she replied. I found crowds
of people there and wondered how they were all going to be seated at
the table, and then I understood. I tried to leave with the others at
about twelve forty-five, but my hostess told me that she expected me to
stay for lunch. Of course, she had to do this, owing to my mentioning
lunch when I called up. Still it was a little awkward.
About cocktail parties--well, I don't quite know. I rather suspect that
they are bad things. They always seem to remind me of the remark in the
Bible about the disciples when they spake with tongues and some one
said: "These men are wine bibbers." I rather think that cocktail parties
are a form of wine bibbing. Still they play an important part in the
life of some people, and I had better tell you about them. As a matter
of fact, quite a large number of people at a cocktail party don't drink
cocktails at all, and in any case, they are taken in a very small
shallow glass. The sort one usually gets at a cocktail party is the
Bronx or Martini variety. The former consists, I believe, largely of gin
and orange juice and has a very cheering effect. People mostly walk
about and chat about nothing in particular. They are generally on their
way home from church and nicely dressed.
It is unpleasant to see girls drinking cocktails. Our breeding gives us
all a certain reserve of strength to stick to our ideals. A few
cocktails, sometimes even one, helps to knock this down and the results
are often regrettable. People talk about things sometimes that are
usually regarded as sacred and there are children about, for the next in
power after madame in an American household is the offspring of the
house. Still quite nice American girls drink cocktails, although nearly
always their men folk dislike it. In Bethlehem, however, I have never
seen a girl friend drink anything stronger than orangeade. That is what
I love about my friends in Bethlehem. Some of them have had a fairly
hard struggle to get on. They don't whine about it or even boast, but
they are firmly decided in their effort to give their daughters every
opportunity to be even more perfect gentlewomen than they are naturally.
Still some quite young American girls drink cocktails and then become
quite amusing and very witty, and one decides that they are priceless
companions, but out of the question as wives.