XXXIIITHE SALOON IN OUR TOWN
San Francisco,October 28th.
To Editor New York Newspaper who offer prize to letter-writer what can tell storey of best Drunk and can prove it.
Hon. Dear—In our town resides many Saloons; and when you have saw them all you will be surprise to find there is several more just around corner. Many of them Saloons can be told apart by looking at them. Some of them is paint bright & goddy colour of a ottomobiles with screeches at doors where they are red & purpal. Drunkerds what see that mad-coloured outside must go inside & forget it. And when they are inside they must stay there long time for nervus collapse. When they are inside they can’t not see the outside—and in such a state who knows what?
Other Saloons is managed with entire plate-glass and completely wooden polish all over it to make deceptive resemblance of First National Bank, so that refined drunkerds can go there with a stock-broke feeling. Such Saloons requirea paying teller to do barkeeping and be pretty civilized, thank you. Them palaces is incomplete if they ain’t got over Hon. Bar a horbly artistick oily-paint pink portrait of Mrs. Venus the way she looked when Hon. Columbus discovered her. She got a hansom gilt frame around her and nothing else. All them portraits cost $10,000 apiece, because Hon. Barkeep say so.
All Saloons has got a phonograf with exception of Hotels which has a okestra. Americans which wishes to become drunk in silence must join a Club. Hon. Strunsky, Irish salooner, make his phonograf play “I Am Long about My Old Contucky Home” because he wish to serve sweetheart influences with his beer; but Hon. Sheehan on opp. corner makehisphonograf play “Happy Widow Waltz” and “We Won’t Go Home in the Darkness” because he-say drunkerds often gets stingy & reforms when they hears homesick musick. Hon. Strunsky say they drink to drown trouble, Hon. Sheehan say they drink to cause it. Both are good ways to know.
Tuesday Hon. Strunsky, Irish salooner, give me temporarial job of work to help persons get drunk by doing so. I am now not there as usual. But I learn how-do while I was. In salooning whisky-drunk are applied to them for price$.10 and beer-drunk for price $.05 eech goblet. Green persons unacquainted with salooning have suppose it would be cheaper for drink beer at $.05 for one long quench when whisky cost twict as much for 1 tinty small splatter of. But such is truthless. One (1) small jounce from whisky contain 2 or 3 times more vixen as a grown-up gobble full of beer. Howeverly, iced drunkerds perfers beer because of pleased trickle.
I are not permitted to sell it to them thirsts at Strunsky saloon, because I are not sufficiently intelligent; so I must rubb glaswares & mop to floor, also become attentive to Hon. Phonograf which require 68 wind-up with squeek about “Old Contucky Home” which please G. W. McCann, prominent Drunk, till he weep because it sound human. I am seriously worked to keep this job; and yet I am entirely educational about all intoxicants when doing so.
“There is some good salooners and some bad,” say letter-writer to newspaper. I have sneeked farly & wide with gum-slippers, but am disabled to find such a bad salooner. Whenever I speek uply to a salooner for question, “Are you such a bad salooner?” he answer for reply, “Ah, no! I are an entirely good kind.”
“Ain’t they no such things as Bad Salooners?” I ask Hon. Strunsky for queery.
“Theyaresome such,” he say for chased expression, “but they are horbly difficult to discover.”
Hon. Strunsky are a very nice variety of Good Salooner. He acknowledj it himself. G. W. McCann say Hon. Strunsky have a heart like a watermelon. I noticed it. It are large, but often deliciously iced. He are a sweet & liberal man to all persons what got sufficient cash-money to pay for it. When the poor calls to the bar of Strunsky for loan of money he seldom turn them off with empty grouch. The safe of Hon. Strunsky is full of watches, stuck-pins, repaired clothing, deed of house & lott, and other hardware what the poor has left as security. Them sweet salooner will never turn deaf eye to want & misery as long as want & misery will leave month’s wages at Hon. Bar. A kindy man are Hon. Strunsky.
This benefacting gentleman believe in keeping his saloon clean & full of home influences. He don’t not believe in no rye-bald scenes of debutchery around place. So when a coal-chuck become entire paralysis there, Hon. Strunsky remove remainder of wage from pockets of them unforchnate man & he are nex discovered in street. When U. S. marine sailor enjoy stab-cut in this Strunsky home his remainder are dragged quietlyto a alley full of shadows so he will not die all over nice saw-dust floor.
Last Wednesday while Hon. Strunsky was elsewhere talking about it Hon. G. W. McCann, prominent drunkerd, come-me sneekretly with Standard Oil expression and request 1 free drink as a loving gift.
“Why you deserve such free gift?” is question for me.
“I are a large tank-line & therefore entitled to occasional rebates,” he betray.
So I give him considerable goblet of and interview him for temperance movement.
“Why do men drink alcohol?” are first question I make.
“Because they can not eat it,” are relapse for him.
“Do whisky-booz do harmful injry to interior when took in excess?” I repent.
“Suppose so,” smack he, “59 successive tumblers are sufficient for a strong man.”
“Are a moderate drunk good for persons?” next come out.
“O sure of!” he negotiate, “I can feel it doing so.”
“It are no true joy what leave a dark browny taste in morning,” I say for David Star Jordan expression.
“It are no true joy in the morning, but it are a very fine imitation of it the night before,” commute that sinny drunk.
“Hon. Horce, famous Roman writer, say-how whisky make poets sing,” is arrival for me.
“Suppose he are right,” say Hon. McCann. “I have often enjoyed singing in ears by early morning.”
I make note of this phenomenal.
“All saloons looks alike to me,” regret Hon. Drunk.
“So sad to hear!” I rake out. “Saloons is entirely different in appearance. Some is red, some pink, some plate-glassed by door to look like National-Bank—how you no tell difference?”
“We cross the bar at different places,” he report, “but we all come out in the same boat.”
“You regret downly path you took?” I ask it.
“I got no regret, thank you,” he reject. “With another drink I could beat the world.”
So he go home and beat his wife, as usual.
In night-time I burst soda-syfen to mirror of Strunsky saloon, so I decide to be a temperance Japanese & resign before discovery & kick. So I go back to my bedstead at Patriots of Japan Board & Lodging where I find O-Fido who makejoy-signal to me by snubbed tail. He are merely a doggly pup who ain’t got no soul to skare with Demon Rums, etc. He ain’t go no ambition & are fond of milk. He imagine Hashimura Togo are Emperor of Japan, I suppose. I permit him to be decieved.
I remove off my shoes for comfert & took down book of Rubbert Burn, famous Scotch, for read it. I study them soft musick about “Flow gentle, sweet Afton”—and then I think how people say-so that he were most greatest Poet when most drunk. Maybe-so he were; but I never seen no drunks act that way around saloon of Hon. Strunsky.
When—of suddenly—come rap-tap at door. And inwards arrive Bunkio Saguchi, fly-away Japanese, with jaggly expression of one who has.
“I wish to give banzai to entire human race to include Nick, Zar of Russia, who are merely a mistake,” gollup Bunkio. “I wish to telegraf happy greet to all politicians in & out of office to include Col. Guffey, who——”
He make set-down to floor because he think it was a chair.
“You are in a toxic condition,” I dib frownly.
“Many persons are most intelligent when so,” he motter.
“Many persons are least so,” I flap back.
“General Grant, great leader, enjoyed spells of drunk,” say Bunkio for argument.
“Alexander the Great enjoyed allepeptick fits,” I smoke up, “yet every person what takes a spasm cannot conker new worlds.”
“Many a battles has been won by gin-wine,” rasp that jaggly boy.
“Battle of Mukden were not,” I dib. “In them battle Japanese was full of banzai, Russians was full of vodka. To-morrow when you are calm some brite Japanese Schoolboy will told you who won them famous target-practice.”
I put him in my bedstead & tock under covers for wet towel on brow. Soonly he enjoy tear-drop of eye & say he was cris-crossed in love; then he make good-night for eye-brows.
Me & O-Fido go take walk & forget such scenery. At Oisoya Hotel, Pine St. near Kerney, I see several Japanese Schoolboys doing a conversation.
“To-night I are a Aunty Saloon Leg,” I say-it by virtuous chest. “But to-morrow I may feel better & enjoy slight beer ceremony.”
“Would America be more better without no saloons?” require Uncle Nichi who was there.
“Perhapsly,” I snuggest. “Hon. Rev. Chillworthy say, ‘If there was no Drunks there wouldn’t be no Murders.’”
“Occasional Murders makes life briter,” reflact Cousin Nogi.
“If there was no saloons there would be no crime,” say Arthur Kickahajama.
“There would also be no fun,” say Sydney Katsu, jr.
“There would be no poverty,” say Frank the Japanned Boot-polish.
“There would be no trusts,” say I. Anazuma.
“There would be no enthusiasm,” say Sago Jokai.
“There would be no insane asylums,” say Albert Sudekachi.
“There would be no Poets,” say Hashimura Togo.
If the saloon must go, Mr. Editor, see that it are put away in some convenient place. I ask it.
Yours truly,
Hashimura Togo.
“‘O, sweethearted Mrs. Madam, I enjoy a brainache this morning, thank you’”
“‘O, sweethearted Mrs. Madam, I enjoy a brainache this morning, thank you’”