The description should have commenced thus:
“The largest and most old-fashioned and used-up automobile takes its way at a snail’s pace through the modern business and residential sections of New Orleans as well as that most delusive and dilapidated part known as the “French quarter.” Here every square inch has its realistic or legendary lore of which our guide knows not a thing and says not a word—therefore don’t bother him with questions. And here will be seen the descendants and decadents of the French and Spanish noblesse—and great has been the descent—and that peculiar type of American civilization, the creole of Louisiana. All of these things and many more will not be pointed out to you.
“The infamous auto passes by these and many more points of no more interest, traversing the historic byways and grand boulevards of this grand old city. A pert guy accompanies each tour and puts out each interesting feature, and says nothing about the present, and knows nothing about the past grandeur and romance, and the future greatness of New Orleans.”
If the company will change the circular to read as I have corrected it, I will recommend it as an honest one trying to live up to its advertisement. Otherwise I must condemn it as a corrupt Philadelphia company, a buyer of cast-off automobiles and off-caste young men, which are sent to far-off cities to play tricks upon visitors. The company runs automobiles in Washington and Philadelphia as well, and sends uninstructed strangers to act as guys and guides. They depend for their success upon the reputation of some of the well-conducted tours in other cities, notably Chicago. They avoid trouble by collecting the fares before they start.
On our way through the French quarter Doctor Frank tried in vain to get a single word from the guy about “the past grandeur and romance” or the “legendary lore,” or about the history of the places. The guy had never studied history nor read the newspapers, and had not even learned to speak a little piece about either history, legend, romance or “rot.” He could not even tell a lie. He pointed his finger at a few business houses, pronounced the names of clubs, and showed us the charred walls of a club house that had been burned the day before, and pronounced it the latest thing in ruins. He showed us the house of a rich man, and when we came to the oldest Protestant church he stood up and said, “This is the First Presbyterian Church,” and sat down. When we got back he also showed us the New St. Charles Hotel, and we knew at least that he was giving this last “attraction” its right name.
Should any reader doubt the truth of my words let him ask Dr. J. Frank of Chicago, whose stomach was full after his five days of fasting, and who therefore felt in a mood to be pleased with anything half-way entertaining or reasonable. He will say that I have not told the truth, but only a portion of it, and he will probably complete the recitation of the truth and give it some of the color that belongs to it. He was anxious to learn something about the town, but learned nothing. He would even have been glad to tell the guy a thing or two about historic and legendary New Orleans, or to give him a piece of his mind, if the fellow had been capable of appreciating either thing, or anything. The fellow didn’t know what he saw and probably would not have understood what he heard. Anyway he did not care to see or hear. He was satisfied with himself and his salary, and we had not the heart to interfere with his happiness, as he had with ours.[5]
[5] In justice to the local Manhattan Auto-Car Co., whose office is at 211 St. Charles St., I wish to say that I was again in New Orleans in December 1907, and had a satisfactory ride in one of their vehicles. Our guide, whose name was Ryniger, was as lively and full of information as the one described above was stupid and ignorant. Those who take the trip should select his car.
CHAPTER VII
Traveling North by Way of the South
Off for Chicago—Trying a Southern Railway—The Sleeping-car Mattress, One of the Luxuries of the World—Courting Sleep—Astonishing Discovery of Daylight—Spurious Insomnia—Missing a Cold Bath—A Strange Stranger—Mobile—The Battle House Restaurant—Patriotic Coffee—Delicacy Versus Flavor—Five-cent Café-au-lait—Milk Versus Cream—Central American Bitter Coffee—Cereal Coffee—The Best Substitute—The Stranger and the Conductor—Compelled to Keep a Saloon in His Own House—Hugging a Young Lady—Tears and the Bottle—The Capital of Alabama—Mismanaging a Cigar—Putting His Boots to Bed—More Ice-water—Cakes and Lemons—Breakfast on the Train—An Unaccountable Disappointment—Drowning Sorrow in Drink—The Great American Treating Habit.