The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1919-05-17

laundry, a travelling man in two-twelv.
who had the grippe and thought he wa
dying, a shortage of towels Chat bug
aboo of the hotel housekeeper) due I;
the laundry trouble that had kept thu
linen room telephone jangling to tn:
tune of a hundred damp and iratC
guests. And weaving in and out. and
above, and about and through 1t all
like a neuralgia toothache that can't be
located, persisted the constant, nagging
maddening complaints of the Chronic
Kicker in stx-eighteen.
Six-eighteen was a woman. She had
arrived Monday morning. early. By
Monday night every girl on the switch
board had the nervous Jumps when
they plugged in at her signal. She had
changed her rooms, and back again.
She had quarrelled with the room
about the service, the food. the linen,
the lights. the noise, the chambermaid,
all the bell-boys and the color Of the
furnishings in her suite. She said she
couldn't live with that color. 1t made
her sick. Between $3.50 and 1880 that
night, there had come a luil. Six
eighteen was doing her turn at the
Majestic.
Martha Foote knew that. She knew.
too. that her name was Geisha Mccoy,
and she knew What that name meant.
just as you do. She had even laughed
and quickened and responded to Geisha
| McCoy's manipulation of her audience,
just as you have. Martha Foote knew
the value of the personal note, and 1t
had been her idea that had resulted
in the rule which obliged elevator boys
chambermaids, floor clerks, doormen
and walters II possible. to learn the
names of Senate Hotel guests, no mat
/ ter how brief their stay.
They like It," she said. to Manager
Brant. "You know that better than
do They'll be hattered. and sur
prised, and tickled to death. and they'll
go back to Burlington. Iowa, and tell
how well known they are at the Sen
ate"
When the suggestion was met with
the argument that no human being
could be expected to perform such
daily feats of memory Martha Foote
battered it down with:
| That's just where you're mistaken.
The first few days are bad. After that
it's easier every day, until 1t becomes
mechanical. I remember when I first
started waiting on table in my mother s
quick lunch eating house in Sorghum,
Minnesota. I'd bring 'em wheat cakes
when they'd rdered pork and beans;
but it wasn't two weeks before could
take six orders, from soup to pie, with
out so much as forgetting the catsup.
Habit, that's ALL
So she. as well as the minor hotel
employees, knew six eighteen as Geisha
Mccoy. Geisha Mccoy, who got a
thousand a week for singing a few
songs and chatting informally with the
| delighted hundreds on the other side
of the footlghts. Geisha Mccoy made
nothing of those same footlights. She
reached out. so to speak, and shook
hands with you across their amber
glare Neither lovely nor alluring, this
woman. And as for her voice!-AnG
| yet for ten years or more this rather
plain person, somewhat dumpy. no
longer young, had been singing her
| every day, human songs about every
day, human people. And invariably
| (and figuratively) her audience clamb-
cred up over the footlights, and sat in
her lap. She had never resorted to
cheap music-hall tricks. she had never
invited the gallery to join in the chorus
She descended to no finger swapping
But when she sang song about q
waitress she was a waitress. She
l
and pull down her mouth. to get ar
effect. She didn't seem to be thinking
about herself at ALL or about hel
clothes. or her method, or her effort
or anything but the audience that was
plastic to her deft and magic manipu-
lation.!
/ Until very recently. Six months hat
wrought a subtle change in Geisha
Mccoy. She still sang her every day
human songs about everyday. human
people. But you failed. somehow, tt
recognize them as such. They sound
| ed sawdust-stuffed. And you were
. likely to hear the man behind you say
| "Yeh, but you ought to have heard hel
i 1--WE years ago. She's about through
| Such was six-eighteen. Martha
F'oote. luxuriating in that one deliciou!
| moment between her $50 awakening
: and her 6:31 arising. unused on these
: things. She thought of how, at clever
r O'Clock the night before. her telephone
: had rung with the sharp zing! of
trouble The voice of Irish Nellie, OIL
, night duty on the sixth floor. haC
sounded thick brogued, sure sign o
distress with her.
J I'm sorry to be a-botherin' We. Mis-
IPhut It's Nellie speakin'-Irish Nelli,
f, on tho sixt'."
Whats the trouble, Nellie?"
Its that six-eighteen again. She
! goin' on like mad. She's carryin' OIL
: something fierce"
What about?"
E "Th'-th' blankets, Mis- Phut.'
E Blankets -
= She says-it's her wurruds, not min
: she says they're vile. Vile. she says.
: Martha Foote'S spine had stiffened
I'm this house! Vile!"
II there was one thing more thai
0 another upon which Martha Foot
Y prided herself 1t was the Senate Hote
n bed coverings Creamy, spotless
o downy, they were her especial fad
: ''Brocade chairs, and pink lamps an
/. gold snake work are all well and good
she was wont to say. and so ar
: American Reautiea In the lnhtn,- an