Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers
A GLITTERING NIGHT FLOWER: THE USE OF
Drouet did not call that evening. After receiving the letter, he had
laid aside all thought of Carrie for the time being and was floating
around having what he considered a gay time. On this particular
evening he dined at "Rector’s," a restaurant of some local fame,
which occupied a basement at Clark and Monroe Streets.
Thereafter he visited the resort of Fitzgerald and Moy’s in Adams
Street, opposite the imposing Federal Building. There he leaned
over the splendid bar and swallowed a glass of plain whiskey and
purchased a couple of cigars, one of which he lighted. This to him
represented in part high life-a fair sample of what the whole must
Drouet was not a drinker in excess. He was not a moneyed man.
He only craved the best, as his mind conceived it, and such doings
seemed to him a part of the best. Rector’s, with its polished
marble walls and floor, its profusion of lights, its show of china
and silverware, and, above all, its reputation as a resort for actors
and professional men, seemed to him the proper place for a
successful man to go. He loved fine clothes, good eating, and
particularly the company and acquaintanceship of successful men.
When dining, it was a source of keen satisfaction to him to know
that Joseph Jefferson was wont to come to this same place, or that
Henry E. Dixie, a well-known performer of the day, was then only
a few tables off. At Rector’s he could always obtain this
satisfaction, for there one could encounter politicians, brokers,
actors, some rich young "rounders" of the town, all eating and
drinking amid a buzz of popular commonplace conversation.
"That’s So-and-so over there," was a common remark of these
gentlemen among themselves, particularly among those who had
not yet reached, but hoped to do so, the dazzling height which
money to dine here lavishly represented.
"You don’t say so," would be the reply.
"Why, yes, didn’t you know that? Why, he’s manager of the
Grand Opera House."
When these things would fall upon Drouet’s ears, he would
straighten himself a little more stiffly and eat with solid comfort.
If he had any vanity, this augmented it, and if he had any
ambition, this stirred it. He would be able to flash a roll of
greenbacks too some day. As it was, he could eat where they did.
His preference for Fitzgerald and Moy’s Adams Street place was
another yard off the same cloth. This was really a gorgeous saloon
from a Chicago standpoint. Like Rector’s, it was also ornamented
with a blaze of incandescent lights, held in handsome chandeliers.
The floors were of brightly coloured tiles, the walls a composition
of rich, dark, polished wood, which reflected the light, and
coloured stucco-work, which gave the place a very sumptuous
appearance. The long bar was a blaze of lights, polished wood-
work, coloured and cut glassware, and many
fancy bottles. It was a truly swell saloon, with rich screens, fancy
wines, and a line of bar goods unsurpassed in the country.
At Rector’s, Drouet had met Mr. G. W. Hurstwood, manager of
Fitzgerald and Moy’s. He had been pointed out as a very
successful and well-known man about town. Hurstwood looked
the part, for, besides being slightly under forty, he had a good,
stout constitution, an active manner, and a solid, substantial air,
which was composed in part of his fine clothes, his clean linen,
his jewels, and, above all, his own sense of his importance. Drouet
immediately conceived a notion of him as being some one worth
knowing, and was glad not only to meet him, but to visit the
Adams Street bar thereafter whenever he wanted a drink or a