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Hall of Fame
early days, a small, snowy napkin went with each drink,
enabling a patron to remove certain traces from his mus–
tache or his whiskers-heavy mustaches and whiskers
were abundant-without toting home odors in his hip
pocket, or wherever he carried his handkerchief. And
while questions were not usually asked, men who bought
drinks were supposed to be able to freight them away
in tact, and not to spill them, or to show other effects than
a certain mellowness and good fellowship-though per–
haps fluency in argument or reminiscence might be for–
given one who was standing treat.
In
brief, a gentleman
was supposed to be larger than what he drank. The
theory of the proprietor of the establishment was that
all his patrons were gentlemen. Atid the theory was good,
even if it didn't always work out in practice. The law
was the law, and it was strictly obeyed in that Bar.
If,
nowadays, certain laws seem to be "all wet" when it
comes to their observance-well, that is another matter.
The actual bar itself, a large, rectangular counter at the
northeast corner of the room, as noted, had a brass rail
running all around its foot. In its center was a long re–
frigerator topped by a snowy cloth and orderly arrange–
ments of drinking glasses. At one end of this cover.stood
a good-sized bronze bear, looking as
i'f
it meant
bu~·iness;
at the other end, a rampant bull. Midway between.them
was placed a tiny lamb, flanked on either side by a tall
vase of flowers. The whole decoration was a more or less
delicate compliment to the heaviest patronage of the
room at cocktail-time, wags claiming that the flowers
were all the lamb-the innocent public-got after Wall
Street's bulls and bears had finished with him.
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