The Greeneville daily sun. (Greeneville, Tenn.) 1918-1920, 1919-06-26
Saloon Won't Die
With Old John B.

NEW YORK, June 25.-Prohibi-
ton or no prohibition, the little old
brass rail, the mahogany bar and the
foaming beer spigot is going to stick,
Firmly convinced of the beneficial
psychology of the brass rail. the Sal
walton Army has so decreed.
The Waterfront" saloon is too
valuable a socializing and democra-
tizing asset to be allowed to perish
with John Barleycorn, slum workers
believe. The atmosphere of the sa-
loon, deodorized of all its stencil,
alone will justify the continued ex-
istence of the saloon, they say.
"You can't take something away
from man without giving him some
thing in return" Brigadier James
Welte, purchasing agent for the Sal
walton Army during the war, said to-
day. deprive the 'floaters' and sa-
loon frequenters of place to congre-
gate and something equally as un-
desirable as the saloon will take its
place.
"The Salvation Army does not in
tend to eliminate the saloon. 1t aims
to reform it-make it power for
decency and cleanliness rather than
a demoralizing influence in the COM
munity."
Already Salvation Army officials
in New York have secured options
on saloon locations in preparation
for the day when prohibition goes in
to effect. But not for a single day
will these places close their doors
The same old mahogany bar, the
same brass rail and the same barten'
ders-in many instances-will re-
main. Only the "kick" in the drink
will disappear.
New York's pioneer "soft drink"
bar, located in the heart of Broad
ways Tenderloin, just off Broadway
near Forty-seventh street, where
hearts are supposed to be light and
lights are bright and champagne flows
like water, has proved the theory OF
it's founders. Two months ago Tan
90 Lizards, Folly Girls, "pugs," and
Broadway habitues draped themsei-
YES across the hardwood bar of the
Victoria Hotel. From noon until
early morn the place was crowded.
Today the place still is crowded.
but the me nwho lounge with hob
nailed boot upon the rails are
bronzed, weatherbeaten veterans of
the A. E. F., or Uncle Sans navy,
And the women, not the delicately
tinted, hand-painted Folly favorites.
but clear-eyed Salvation Army las,
sizes, war workers and returned
nurses. And before the war many
that now call for a grape fizz" had
called for a gin rickey or Scotch
straight.
It's the psychology of the brass
rail-" quoth Tony, the bartender,
who for a decade has mixed refresh
ing potations hele. "Put a glass in
q mans hand and he instinctively
fishes around with his foot for the
rail. Hakes no difference whether
he is drinking Scotch or soda; with
his hoof comfortably fixed he will
talk as long as anyone will listen to
him-iust like in the olden days
| Gradually he eases himself down un,
til his chin gets in his hard and his
elbow on the table or bar-and he's
enchored until closing time"
In the river-front saloon, where
the Bowery Bum formerly got a glass
of beer and a sandwich for nickel
the Salvation Army intends to have
the same old bartender with his cher
ry "Howdy, Mike! Hello Bill! on the
Job. That is, if he wants to stay, anc
many have said they would. But
light drinks and doughnuts will re-
place the hard drinks. The stove anC
smoke and atmosphere will still b'
there" Welte declared.
"And we don't intend to feed hin
religion either Saloons and reli-
gion don't synchronize. If we car
maintain the saloon as place where
man can drop in, get bite to ca
and war mhimself, and incidental!
elimiante all the demoralizing in
fuences that surround the old run
house, we believe it will be wortl
WHILE" Welte added.
Salvation Army lassies-veteran'
also of the A. E. F., will capitalize