Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1918-08-30


training camp today-heeding strange commands
falling in with the awkward squad, learning to
Lutte, and with the whites of his eyes shining big
amid warlike surroundings Robert Wood, head
waiter and soldier in the making.
Here at the National Press club the oldtimers
seem to find something wrong with the service. 1t
is as though an old picture had been moved from
the the favorite lounging chair had gone to
the repair shop. Seems like the drip coffee has
lost it's aroma the ginger ale Of prohibition times
has less of a sparkle about it; and the club sand
witches come thinner and poorly toasted. 1t just
seems that way to some of the fellows about the
big round table, albeit the service is the same ano
the difference is state of mind.
The District draft board called Robert on Fri
day night. Yesterday he went away, his black face
rejecting mingled emotions of uncertainty, awe
and determination to fill order to get the Kaiser
For the first time in his life Robert wore on his
wrist a silver watch, the gift of members of the
National Press club. 1t was engraved on back,
with appreciation of faithful service" In his
pocket he carried away $50 in one-dollar bills,
also the gift of the club membership.
Before Robert went away about hundred
members gathered in the assembly room where the
presentation ceremonies were held. 1t intended
as a unique and somewhat humorous occasion in a
club accustomed to varied entertainments. But,
somehow, bit of pathos crept into It, and then
here followed the thrill of patriotism and of war
which set the blood tinglng and sent a lump up
into the throat.
Robert the faithful waiter who came to the
press club seven years ago when its members were
few and it occupied only three rooms in F street,
made a farewell speech. The white men about him,
representative of club membership today of more
than one thousand, applauded him they might
have acclaimed finished orator. He spoke with
imperfect Englsh-he was Just uneducated
country boy, he explained-but probably no man
saying goodby to old associations has ever spoken
with more feeling and native eloquence.
was errand boy to Stonewall Jackson, and has done
a bit of preaching the side, waved his long arms
toward the club service flag, with its eighty-odd
stars and three of them gold upon it. and stirred
his white and colored auditors with predictions of
the heroism of the nations colored troops in de-
Labert ST. Clair of Indiana; Jay G. Hayden, of
Michigan, and Theodore Tiller, Of Georgia, repre-
senting the club board Of governors, spoke of the
passing of sectionalism and the merging of Ameri-
into victorious army on the battlefronts Of
a world called to arms.
Thus was Robert, humble waiter, sent from
civil life and uniform of white into the American
army and a uniform OF khaki. Possibly no cere-
mony like this has been staged since the came
interrupt the even flow OF domestic pursuits and
to break up associations whatever be the tie that
binds
Robert is just a typical, respectful, faithful
Southern negro. His lips would encompass any
pre-war slice of watermelon. His grin spreads
backward toward the ears, exceeding naturally the
manufactured smile of the colored chef whose
countenance is used to advertise breakfast food.
Robert has big eyes, that stretched wider still when
he received the summons from the draft board.
Also he has a good heart devotion to duty and
way of saying coming, sub, coming it's de fire,
suh," which makes an impatient diner forget his
grievances.
Robert Wood drifted into Washington from
Prince Georges county, Maryland, about ten years
ago. At that time he had never heard of the
Kaiser. The Eastern Sho' of Maryland far
away land and France blank spot in Roberts
geography. He broke in with the press club
bussboy, then became porter and finally landed
squarely in the dining room with walters uni
FORM
During the past seven years the once strug-
Cling press club has become nationally famous in
stitution. Robert had become a fixture, like the
stems about the wall and the grotesque mummy
figures the big fireplace. He kinder grew up
with the place, the oldtimer would say. He
has waited upon the cub reporter the distinguish
ed author the great artist and the statesmen of his
time. He has stood respectfully while good fell
lows gathered about the flowing bowls of yester-
day and lifted their glasses in honor of the
SCOOP" he has heard the midnight crew. talk
shop and the newcomer welcomed into Washing
toms newspaper world; he has seen politicians ride