And Ham answered, “Them is moving picture people.”
And Mr. Murphy replied, “Well, give them the best and lots of it.”
We needed “the best and lots of it.” We needed regular longshoremen’s meals. Outdoor picture work with its long hours meant physical endurance in equal measure with artistic outpourings.
Ham is still in Mr. Murphy’s service, but his job has grown rather dull with the years. No more picture people to start the day off bright and snappy. Now he only turns on the tap to draw a glass of Mr. Volstead’s less than half of one per cent.
“But I want to ask you something,” said Ham as I started to leave.
“Yes?”
“Would you tell me”—hushed and awed the tone—“did Mary Pickford ever come in here?”
“Oh, yes, Ham, she came sometimes.”
“I told the boss so, I told him Mary Pickford had come here with them picture people.”
Whether Mary had or hadn’t, I didn’t remember, but I couldn’t deny Ham that little bit of romance to cheer along his colorless to-days.