The Madison daily leader. [volume] (Madison, S.D.) 1890-current, 1895-05-16
AGRANDE ENTERPRISE
IT'S ORIGIN AND SUCCESSFUL DEvEL-
OPMENT QUE 70 A WOMAN.

ers That Ii Not y Charity-Miss M. A.
Fisher and the Home Hotei-Its Found
ing. Policy and Guests.
A modest little card tackled T. the
front door of a handsome brick house in
st. AIMS avenue, near One Hundred
and Thirty-fifth street, to the
world the existence Of q hotel which
embodies a woman's idea and efforts in
tightening the burdens of other persons.
Among refined and congenial surround
ings the guest of this house, which is
called the Home hotel and is open to
both men and women, may have a cozy
room and good fare for very little more
money a week than an orchestra chair
at a theater costs, and if she happens to
be struggling against fate with an empty
pocketbook she may have the same ao-
c~ommodations for nothing at all until
fortune smiles.
Yet the hotel is not a charitable in
stitution. A more valuable possession
than money is required to give you en-.
try there. You must have brains, and
they must be brains, moreover, that are
refined and polished by education and
culture, for the hotel is conducted for
authors, musicians, teachers and mem.
bers Of other professions who find tenn
porary difficulty in wringing dollars
from an unappreciative world, and for
those who are incapacitated by age or
illness from earning money.
A courtly old gentleman opens the
front door to the needy brainworker
who comes for the first time and bows
the caller into the parlor, with the in
formation that Miss -- will attend
her presently. A very pleasant first i'm
preston Of the hotel is received while
waiting here. These parlors seem in
stinct with informality and s~ociability.
The plain. substantial furniture; the
piano, with its loose and apparently oft
turned sheets of music; the well thumb
ed magazines and books, the portraits
and engravings, combine to remind n
Of an old fashioned country house
where hospitality and simplicity dwell
and ostentation has no place.
! The door opens softly, and a sweet
faced woman enters. In a manner full
of charm and tact she asks the necessary
questions, and the caller is invited to
come again on q certain day. Mean.
while her credentials are carefully in.
v%estigated. II the result is satisfactory,
q warm welcome awaits her on her Sec
ond visit, and she becomes one of the
little company whose ambitions in art
or literature have not get been realized
or are worn out with the efforts Of a
lifetime. She pays whatever she can af-
ford, from 81 a week to 81, and sympa
thy and material aid, where possible,
are extended to her in her work.
Professional persons over 65 may be-
come life guests by the payment Of $500,
which is raised by relatives or a church
society, and sometimes by the patrons
Of the home. There are at present about
so guests in the four connecting houses,
to which the hotel has been enlarged.
They are not all without means. A
number pay full rates for board, and
live in the hotel because of its society OF
clever, interesting persons and the at
mosphere of refinement and homeliness.
The founder of the hotel and the pres
ident of the association, which includes
among it's members many prominent
New York men and women, is Miss
Mary A. Fisher.
''Our hotel, /" as was told to a report
er in a visit there, Occupies a field OF
usefulness all it's owl. There are au-
thors' and actors funds and charitable
organizations, but we do not feel that
we are conducting q charity. We are
simply providing a home for brainwoxk.
ers who have earned q rest, and for Am.
bilious educated persons whose presen,
means might not otherwise enable them
to live amid c%ongenial surroundings.
"A beautiful house in Hampstead,
England, where governesses, grown ole
in their profession, could live out theil
lives in peace and restfulness, suggested
the idea Of the hotel to me. And after
ward, here in New York, it came to me-
again with striking force. In a wretch
ed room in q tenement house l found nj
aged musician and composer in his las
illness.
Don't send me to an almshouse,
he begged. Let me die here. l am uset
to the cold. and those old bundles O
music, pointing with a trembling fin
ger to the rude shelf above his bed illet
with his manuscript music, ARE com
panions. They are like children to me.
ION another occasion q friend wante,
some writing done, and q publisher rec
commended an author and his wife VIII
wrote for a livelihood In East Eleventh
street. amid almost squalid surround
ings, we found these cultured people
They were called successful writers
their special field being biography an
history, but they accepted the wor
eagerly, ON any terms We asked n
questions. None were necessary. Til
pinched look ON their child's face an
their own pallor> told the story Of priv,
ton.
"These and similar experiences opel
cd my eyes to the great need Of . hot
like ours, and after many ~discourag'
ments l started. It was eight years az
years that have given me Q wealth
experience and shown me some of Il