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OldWaldorf Bar Days
cided him that the importation of a fruit of such po–
tential popularity might prove a profitable occupation.
In
New York, Colonel Rickey's favorite Bar and
lobby had been in the Hoffman House, but he soon
found the Waldorf.
In
the early days of the brass rail
Bar, his long, gray mustache and black slouch hat
caused him often to be mistaken for Mark Twain. How–
ever, he wore glasses. He would turn up in the Bar at ·
cocktail-time and would help shut it at one o'clock in
the morning. That, however, never meant curfew to
Colonel Joe. He had a lien on the pint of rye, which,
with an equal quantity of Scotch, was cached by the
night manager of the hotel for the salvation of thirsty
patrons of the hotel who would turn up after hours
with news that they simply must have a drink, or die. And
Colonel Joe would see that he got his share of salvation.
Richard Croker, Tammany leader, and "Charlie"
Murphy, his successor, might be seen at one of the
tables, once in a while, but that Bar was no place for
secrets, and they soon transferred their patronage to a
table in the Men's Cafe.
WE HAVE WITH Us To-DAY
In
that flock of faces that, during the early years of
the century, swarmed thickest toward six o'clock, ap–
peared more than one
th~t
have since become familiar
throughout the country and wherever illustrated news–
papers are read. Just two may be here noted.
While it is safe to say Silver Dollar Smith's saloon,
its floor paved with acartwheels," as the dollar silver
coins used to be called because of their size and weight,
. [ 40]