The Washington times., 1935-10-10
NOW
GeneU1's Lifts
Often Don't
TALE OF TAXI
By HELEN ESSARY

NlG1lOuG WI1Gu4S q PACSC oSONO
the coy French elevators as I
met them in Geneva. Call them
lifts, ascenseurs, whatever you
will.
I have suffered so much from
their light-hearted ways that I
must indulge in this small remi.
niscence.
The Geneva elevator is, Of
course, the same variety one
squeezes into in most places in
Europe. They tell me it is an
invention of the French.
Anyhow, it has some of the
characteristics of the French. 1t
Is emotional, almost vivacious.
And you nevaire, nevaire know
where it's going to take you.
It's quite likely to be fond Of
dancing-light wines as well.
AS you approach the lift you
read with considerable appre-
henSion the word in large let
terS: Attention."
Next, the warning:
mo child under 16 may ride
In the elevator with out an
adult"
Also, there is a sign, sug-
gesting the pressing of various
buttons.
And when you have pressed
one, q notice appears in small
red letters just below the but
ton, telling you that the ele-
Vator is occupied"
This means the elevator is
NOT occupied. That there is no
one in it. That it is on its way
down to you, quite alone.
Soon the gentle little car
comes heSitatingly into view
and comes to rest, miraculously,
just where you want it to. You
are about to bravely open the
doors that must always be
closed the instant after they
are opened, when the elevator
trembleS. And flees up the area
way. You hear a sort Of jar
above. The sounds of doors
being opened and closed.
Down flutters the little eleva-
toI4 again. encaSing this time
the forms of a thin Italian and
Q stout German. These gentle
men come out of the iron cage,
casually as If .sthey often got
in and out Of such uncertain
plans.
Now you step gingerly in
side the cage. Press the button
that says fourth floor" Muir
mur a prayer and smile little.
Nothing happens.
Mercy! Suppose you haven't
pressed the right button, hazy
as you are about buttons and
such things. So you press an
other button, a black one, just
to make things certain.
The little car shudderS in
pain. Runs up a few feet, and
stops half way between the
second and third floor.
At the moment, being afraid
Of buttons, you push no more.
But you remember that the
French, in moments of excite
ment, shout, Gallo! Allo!"
So you shout "Allo! Allo" at
nothing in particular.
A masculine voice from be-
low replies.
"What ees eet, Madame?"
ST want to come dOwn-pleaSe
assist"
Now the little car quivers in
a sympathetic response to the
wheedling Of one Of its own
race.
or perhaps it only shrugS its
shoulders. But you are even
tually borne to the first floor
Here you emerge thankfully
on dry land. Take sharp turn
to the left. And-walk up 50
steps to your room!
The taxi drivers in Geneva,
though old, remain pugnaclous.
In many quiet streets there is
but one car passing through a
hlock at one time,
Another car, a pedestrian or
a bicyclist { the town IS full OF
these last) that gets in the way
of a proud old chauffeur is apt
to create a scene. Yesterday I
was on my way to the League
of Nations Building when a
woman with bottle Of wine in
one hand and a long loaf of
bread in the other stepped into
the path of my taxi.
My chauffeur, evidently not
the "thou" Of Omar Khayyam'S
"wine and jug" trilogy, stopped
the car so violently that I prac-
tically fell on my face against
the window.
When I got up onto the seat
again the driver was shaking
both fists at the woman he had
almost run down.
He was wearing by all
the gods that were in the
Swiss heaven that he, fine fel-
low that he was, did not deserve
such inconsiderate, evil treat
ment from a woman, a stupid
woman, trying to commit sui
eide, just so that he, fine fel-
low that he was, would have to
90 to iail for manSlaughter.
The woman, crushed in spirit