A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING
May 7, 1954
The Milwaukee Chair Company
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Attention: Mr. Block, I think is the name, President or Gen.
Manager:
The 5 metal chairs . . . were promptly delivered to our office. They look and sit quite well and we feel sure we are going to like them for the reception room.
When in Milwaukee my son and I ordered some other and more expensive chairs—leather—at the same time we ordered the metal chairs spoken of above, and it is about the delivery of these leather chairs this letter is directed. We hope to have a sort of "opening" for our new offices and building about June 1, 1954. Naturally, we should like to have these leather chairs on hand . . . If we knew there would be a little delay in delivery we would try to delay our "opening." It is not my intention to try to rush you. I would just like to know for a certainty and plan accordingly.
I find myself in a dither like unto a situation that confronted me long, long years ago. I was a cadet a Western Military Academy, Alton, Illinois, 16 years old. . . In class, I sat next to a boy two years my senior and far, far more sophisticated. He was a member of a really rich family in St. Louis. He invited me to spend Easter vacation at his home. I was glad to go. Arrived in St. Louis I learned another St. Louis tycoon, a brewer and his wife, were giving a banquet and ball, and that I was scheduled to be among "those present."
My hostess looked me over carefully. In a casual way she asked,
"Andrew, I'll bet you forgot to bring your dress suit along?"
The question amazed me. "Why Mrs. —," I said, "I never owned a dress suit. Boys my age where I come from don't have dress suits."
What an understanding woman she was! I could see the smile come to her eyes. Without a moment's hesitation she said, "I know what we'll do. Both you boys will wear your uniforms. You are more used to them and you'll feel more at home in them. And the girls will just go wild about those uniforms. They are exactly the thing to wear."
Before the big event, she got me off to herself and after some preliminaries, asked, "Andrew, do your parents have liquor on the table or in the home?" I said they did not have any that I knew of.
She asked, "Did you ever taste whiskey or champagne?" I said I had never tasted either—that I had never seen any champagne.
The good woman fairly beamed. She was getting real enjoyment out of the interview. She then told me there would be worlds of champagne served at the banquet. Waiters would keep refilling the glasses. Older people might get a little tipsy. . . She told me many things. She said that at the first serving of the champagne we might all rise for a toast. My girl (for whom she had arranged) and I would sort of intertwine our wrists and glasses and she would take a sip out of my glass, but of course I would sip none of hers—that champagne was quite potent and might creep-up on one not used to it. . .
Before the interview was over, she had become my monitor and my excellent, trustworthy and good friend. One thing troubled me. I wanted her permission about something. I said, "I'll behave myself and you'll not have to be ashamed of me. All this is new. I have never been in a fine home before and have never been to a banquet. May I have your permission to taste that champagne out of my own glass? I have always wanted to taste champagne and I may never get the chance again."
That was too much for her. She had been aching to laugh out loud. She put her arm around me and let go, saying, "Andrew, you are just about the finest young man we ever had in our home. Of course you have my permission to taste the champagne. . . I just want you to tell me how it tastes."
The banquet and ball were howling successes so far as I was concerned. I made at least two big mistakes. . . I got the vast assortment of spoons and forks pretty well mixed, but soon corrected that by watching the middle-aged woman at my side. The awful and really devastating mistake was due to my appetite. Military School diet was rigid. I was young, healthy and hungry. I noticed my girl minced and toyed with the fish, soup and other preliminaries, but attributed that to some feminine quirk. I ate all mine in stride. When the canvas back, caviar and other unknown real delicacies came along it was too late for me. I was full.
On the ball room floor it was a much different story. I was young, lithe and limber—and absolutely sober. A great many of the deluxe elite were too heavy in the hock, too wide in the beam, and far, far too distended in front. One good woman couldn't see her plate and would have to pull her fork from under to see what its tine had speared. The guests graded from mild exhilaration to pretty dam tight. My hostess' son was pretty well left of center. I had sufficient presence of mind to ask my monitor for dances, far more than could reasonably be expected of a woman so old—probably almost pushing 40. . .
By this time you are asking, "Why all this boring life history from an almost utter stranger?" The answer is simple.
I have never seen, much less occupied, an office chair pushing $300. I must get acclimated to it gradually and by easy stages or else find myself in the same uneasy situation as that of a 16- year-old small town boy at his first metropolitan banquet and ball. . . Respectfully, Durham & Durham, Atty.'s. By Andrew E. Durham