As to the gross ideals of the former tenant, I need only say that he had made, as I now learned, a window display of foods, quite after the manner of a draper’s window: moulds of custard set in a row, flanked on either side by “pies,” as the natives call their tarts, with perhaps a roast fowl or ham in the centre. Artistic vulgarity could of course go little beyond this, but almost as offensive were the abundant wall-placards pathetically remaining in place.
“Coffee like mother used to make,” read one. Impertinently intimate this, professing a familiarity with one’s people that would never do with us. “Try our Boston Baked Beans,” pleaded another, quite abjectly. And several others quite indelicately stated the prices at which different dishes might be had: “Irish Stew, 25 cents”; “Philadelphia Capon, 35 cents”; “Fried Chicken, Maryland, 50 cents”; “New York Fancy Broil, 40 cents.” Indeed the poor chap seemed to have been possessed by a geographical mania, finding it difficult to submit the simplest viands without crediting them to distant towns or provinces.
Upon Cousin Egbert’s remarking that these bedizened placards would “come in handy,” I took pains to explain to him just how different the United States Grill would be. The walls would be done in deep red; the floor would be covered with a heavy Turkey carpet of the same tone; the present crude electric lighting fixtures must be replaced with indirect lighting from the ceiling and electric candlesticks for the tables. The latter would be massive and of stained oak, my general colour-scheme being red and brown. The chairs would be of the same style, comfortable chairs in which patrons would be tempted to linger. The windows would be heavily draped. In a word, the place would have atmosphere; not the loud and blaring, elegance which I had observed in the smartest of New York establishments, with shrieking decorations and tables jammed together, but an atmosphere of distinction which, though subtle, would yet impress shop-assistants, plate-layers and road-menders, hodmen, carters, cattle-persons—in short the middle-class native.
Cousin Egbert, I fear, was not properly impressed with my plan, for he looked longingly at the wall-placards, yet he made the most loyal pretence to this effect, even when I explained further that I should probably have no printed menu, which I have always regarded as the ultimate vulgarity in a place where there are any proper relations between patrons and steward. He made one wistful, timid reference to the “Try Our Merchant’s Lunch for 35 cents,” after which he gave in entirely, particularly when I explained that ham and eggs in the best manner would be forthcoming at his order, even though no placard vaunted them or named their price. Advertising one’s ability to serve ham and eggs, I pointed out to him, would be quite like advertising that one was a member of the Church of England.
After this he meekly enough accompanied me to his bank, where he placed a thousand pounds to my credit, adding that I could go as much farther as I liked, whereupon I set in motion the machinery for decorating and furnishing the place, with particular attention to silver, linen, china, and glassware, all of which, I was resolved, should have an air of its own.
Nor did I neglect to seek out the pair of blacks and enter into an agreement with them to assist in staffing my place. I had feared that the male black might have resolved to return to his adventurous life of outlawry after leaving the employment of Belknap-Jackson, but I found him peacefully inclined and entirely willing to accept service with me, while his wife, upon whom I would depend for much of the actual cooking, was wholly enthusiastic, admiring especially my colour-scheme of reds. I observed at once that her almost exclusive notion of preparing food was to fry it, but I made no doubt that I would be able to broaden her scope, since there are of course things that one simply does not fry.
The male black, or raccoon, at first alarmed me not a little by reason of threats he made against Belknap-Jackson on account of having been shopped. He nursed an intention, so he informed me, of putting snake-dust in the boots of his late employer and so bringing evil upon him, either by disease or violence, but in this I discouraged him smartly, apprising him that the Belknap-Jacksons would doubtless be among our most desirable patrons, whereupon his wife promised for him that he would do nothing of the sort. She was a native of formidable bulk, and her menacing glare at her consort as she made this promise gave me instant confidence in her power to control him, desperate fellow though he was.
Later in the day, at the door of the silversmith’s, Cousin Egbert hailed the pressman I had met on the evening of my arrival, and insisted that I impart to him the details of my venture. The chap seemed vastly interested, and his sheet the following morning published the following:
THE DELMONICO OF THE WEST
Colonel Marmaduke Ruggles of London and Paris, for the past
two months a social favourite in Red Gap’s select North Side
set, has decided to cast his lot among us and will henceforth
be reckoned as one of our leading business men. The plan of
the Colonel is nothing less than to give Red Gap a truly élite
and recherché restaurant after the best models of London and
Paris, to which purpose he will devote a considerable portion
of his ample means. The establishment will occupy the roomy
corner store of the Pettengill block, and orders have already
been placed for its decoration and furnishing, which will be
sumptuous beyond anything yet seen in our thriving metropolis.
In speaking of his enterprise yesterday, the Colonel remarked,
with a sly twinkle in his eye, “Demosthenes was the son of a
cutler, Cromwell’s father was a brewer, your General Grant was
a tanner, and a Mr. Garfield, who held, I gather, an important
post in your government, was once employed on a canal-ship, so
I trust that in this land of equality it will not be presumptuous
on my part to seek to become the managing owner of a restaurant
that will be a credit to the fastest growing town in the state.
“You Americans have,” continued the Colonel in his dry, inimitable
manner, “a bewildering variety of foodstuffs, but I trust I may
be forgiven for saying that you have used too little constructive
imagination in the cooking of it. In the one matter of tea,
for example, I have been obliged to figure in some episodes
that were profoundly regrettable. Again, amid the profusion of
fresh vegetables and meats, you are becoming a nation of tinned
food eaters, or canned food as you prefer to call it. This,
I need hardly say, adds to your cost of living and also makes
you liable to one of the most dreaded of modern diseases, a
disease whose rise can be traced to the rise of the tinned-food
industry. Your tin openers rasp into the tin with the result
that a fine sawdust of metal must drop into the contents and
so enter the human system. The result is perhaps negligible in
a large majority of cases, but that it is not universally so
is proved by the prevalence of appendicitis. Not orange or
grape pips, as was so long believed, but the deadly fine rain
of metal shavings must be held responsible for this scourge.
I need hardly say that at the United States Grill no tinned
food will be used.”
This latest discovery of the Colonel’s is important if true.
Be that as it may, his restaurant will fill a long-felt want,
and will doubtless prove to be an important factor in the social
gayeties of our smart set. Due notice of its opening will be
given in the news and doubtless in the advertising columns of
this journal.
Again I was brought to marvel at a peculiarity of the American press, a certain childish eagerness for marvels and grotesque wonders. I had given but passing thought to my remarks about appendicitis and its relation to the American tinned-food habit, nor, on reading the chap’s screed, did they impress me as being fraught with vital interest to thinking people; in truth, I was more concerned with the comparison of myself to a restaurateur of the crude new city of New York, which might belittle rather than distinguish me, I suspected. But what was my astonishment to perceive in the course of a few days that I had created rather a sensation, with attending newspaper publicity which, although bizarre enough, I am bound to say contributed not a little to the consideration in which I afterward came to be held by the more serious-minded persons of Red Gap.