Chapter 5 Chapter 5 The Pearl of the City That Never Sleeps: The Role of Fame

Drouet did not go to see Carrie that evening. After the receipt of Carrie's letter, he put all thoughts of Carrie to the back of his mind for a moment. He wandered about the town, and, as far as he could tell, was having a good time. He dined that evening at the Rector's, a restaurant of some local fame, which occupied the ground floor of the building on the corner of Clark and Monroe. Mo's tavern, which is opposite the magnificent Federal Building. There, leaning on the luxurious counter, he drank a glass of clear whiskey and bought two cigars, one of which he lit on the spot. It is the epitome of the elegant life of the upper class in his mind... The so-called peeking through the eyes, it can be seen that this is a taste of the life of the upper class.

Drouet is not a drunken man, nor is he rich. He just pursues an elegant life according to his understanding. At present, these enjoyments are regarded as high-end in his opinion. He thinks that the Rector Hotel is successful. A place that people should patronize, because there are not only smooth marble walls and floors, countless lights and china and silverware worth showing off, but more importantly, the reputation of being patronized by famous actors and entrepreneurs: he likes fine food and fine clothes, He also likes to get acquainted with celebrities and important people. When eating, if he hears that Joseph Jefferson often eats at this restaurant, or that the popular actor Henry Yi Dixie is at the next table, Being within a few tables of him gave him great satisfaction. At the Rector's he could often find such satisfaction, because one could meet political dignitaries, agents, actors, and the like. The rich young playboys of the town ate there, drank, chatted, and talked about the usual hot topics.

"That's so-and-so, right there." These gentlemen used to say to each other, especially those who aspired to someday reach the pinnacle of life, where they could spend their lives and drink. "Really?" the other party will reply. "Of course it's true. Don't you know? He's the manager of the Grand Opera House." When these words fell into Drouet's ears, he straightened his back even more, and ate with delight. If he had vanity, these words increased his vanity; if he had any ambition, these words That fueled his ambition: one day he too would be able to show fistfuls and fistfuls of banknotes. Really, he wanted to eat where these dignitaries and celebrities now eat.

For the same reason he likes to patronize the Fermer's on Adam Street. It's a grand hotel by Chicago standards. Like the Rector's, it has beautiful chandeliers. It shines brightly, decorating the restaurant gorgeously and elegantly. The floor is covered with brightly colored tiles, and the walls are inlaid with colored paint and precious dark wood. The varnished wood shines brightly under the reflection of the light, and the colorful The paint looks luxurious and rich. A row of electric lights shines on the polished long wine counter, on which are displayed colorful carved glass vessels and many strangely shaped wine bottles. This is really a first-class wine room, with expensive curtains and rare wines. , and the wine cabinet utensils that are considered to be the best in the country.

At the Rector's, Drouet made the acquaintance of Joe W. Hurstwood, the manager of Fermer's. Some people say behind his back that he is a successful man, well-known, and well-connected. Hurstwood also looks like a happy man. He was in his late forties, well-built, active, with an air of wealth and prosperity. This air was partly due to his well-dressed clothes, clean shirts, and jewels, but above all due to his knowledge of his worth. Du Lowe realized at once that this was a man worth getting acquainted with. Not only was he a pleasure to know him, but he had since visited the bar in Adam Street whenever he wanted a drink or a cigar.

It can be said that Hurstwood is a very interesting man by nature. He is shrewd and capable in many small things, and can make a good impression. His managerial position is very important. . He has no real financial power. He started his career by perseverance and hard work. From an ordinary hotel bartender, after years of hard work, he rose to his current position. In this restaurant, he has a small office with polished cherries A small room separated by wood and trellises. There is a flip-top writing desk inside, which keeps the simple accounts of the hotel, nothing more than food and sundries that have been ordered or need to be ordered. The main administrative and financial responsibilities are the two shopkeepers. Fitzgerald and Moy plus a cashier in charge.

Most of the time, he walks around the store leisurely, wearing high-end clothing made of imported fabrics, a solitaire diamond ring, a beautiful blue diamond pinned to his tie, and a striking trendy suit. Vest, a solid gold fob chain with a dainty charm and a watch of the latest style. He knew hundreds of actors, businessmen, politicians, and ordinary successful people by name. , and being able to greet them affectionately with "Hey, buddy" is part of the reason for his success. He treats people with a strict sense of casualness. For those who earn about 15 yuan a week and frequent his restaurant, they know him well. He greeted the small clerks and footmen in the store with "Hello" and the famous and rich people who knew him and wanted to associate with him with "How are you doing, man, how are you?" .However, he dare not address those who are too rich, too famous, or too successful in an intimate and casual tone. Dealing with these people, he resorts to professional tact and a dignified and dignified attitude , to pay them homage, a homage which would win their favor without hurting his own manners and self-respect. Finally, there were a few good clients, neither poor nor rich, famous, but not very successful. With these people he has the friendly manner of an old friend, with whom he talks long and earnestly. He likes to go out every other day...to the racetrack, to the theater, to the entertainment of certain clubs. activities. He kept a horse, and a buggy. He was married, had two children, and lived in a fine house on the North Side, near Lincoln Park. An unpopular character, slightly inferior to the wealthy.

Hurstwood liked Drouet. Drouet was amiable and well-dressed, which suited him well. He knew that Drouet was only a traveling salesman . . . and not long in that trade. ...but the Baga Company is a large and prosperous company, and Drouet has a good relationship with the boss in the company. Hurstwood is very close to Galio, one of the bosses of the Baga Company, and has been with him from time to time. and the others for a drink and a chat. Drouet had a touch of humour, which helped him a lot in his line of business. He would tell an amusing story when necessary. And Hurstwood at When we were together, he chatted about the races, about his anecdotes and adventures, about business in the towns he visited. He was almost always, so to speak, very pleasant. Tonight he was particularly pleasant. He gave the company His report has been well received, he is very satisfied with the newly selected samples, and the next six weeks of sales promotion trips have been arranged.

"How do you do, brother Charlie?" Hurstwood greeted Drouet, when he came into the tavern at eight o'clock that evening. "How is it going?" The tavern was full. Drouet shook hands with him, and smiled generously and kindly. They walked together towards the liquor counter. "not bad." "I haven't seen you for six weeks. When did you come back?" "Come back on Friday," said Drouet, "and have had a good trip." "I'm so glad for you," said Hurstwood, whose dark eyes were filled with warm, concerned kindness instead of their usual indifference and politeness. "What would you like to drink today?" he added. He was dressed in a white suit and tie. The bartender leaned over to them from behind the counter.

"Old pepper whiskey," said Drouet. "I'll have a little too," interjected Hurstwood. "How long can I stay in the city this time?" he asked. "Only until Wednesday. I'm going to St. Paul right away." "George Evans was here on Saturday. He said he saw you at Milwaukee last week." "Yes, I saw George," replied Drouet. "He's a very nice fellow, isn't he? We had a good time together at Mivacon." The bartender set glasses and decanters before them. They poured their drinks while they chatted. Drouet filled his glass only seven or eight parts full, which he thought was proper manners. Hurstwood was only symbolic. I poured a little whiskey and mixed it with a lot of mineral water.

"How is Garriere?" asked Hurstwood. "He hasn't been here for two weeks." "In bed," cried Drouet. "They say the old gentleman has gout." "But he made a lot of money back then, didn't he?" "Yes, he has made a lot of money," replied Drouet. "But his days are numbered, and it is rare to get a turn in the office now." "He has but one son, has he not?" asked Hurstwood. "Yes, and a libertine," said Drouet, laughing. "However, with the presence of other shareholders, I don't think the business will be affected much." "No, I don't think it will affect at all." Hurstwood stood with his coat open, his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, his diamonds and rings gleaming in the light. It was evident at a glance that he lived a comfortable life. To an undrinking, serious nature, such a noisy, noisy, brightly lit place was an anomaly, contrary to the general order of nature and life, like a swarm of moths, swarming Flew in flocks to the firelight to keep warm. The conversation that can be heard here adds no knowledge to the man, so in this respect the place is useless. Evidently the conspirators would choose a more secluded place than this Plan their conspiracies. Except for socializing and entertaining, politicians will not gather here to discuss important matters, because the other seat has ears. The reason of alcohol addiction can hardly explain why people gather here, because most of the people who patronize those luxury hotels do not Not greedy. But the fact is that people gather here: they like to chat here, and they like to walk around in the crowd, brushing shoulders with people. There is always a reason for doing it. The desire of the hotel has created a strange social place like a hotel. Otherwise, such a thing as a hotel would not exist. Taking Drouet as an example, he came here not only for pleasure, but also to show off among those who are better off than himself. Many of the friends he met here may not have subconsciously analyzed themselves. , they come here longing for the social, lighting and atmosphere here. After all, people can see coming here as a taste of high society life. Although they come here for sensual gratification, it is not evil after all. Expect to A luxuriously furnished house can do little harm. Perhaps the most harmful effect of such things is to arouse in materialistic people an ambition to live an equally luxurious life. After all, it is no wonder that luxury The arrangement itself is to be blamed on the nature of men. The occasion induces the well-dressed to envy the well-dressed, and they want to wear rich clothes, but this is not to be blamed except for those who are affected. Such unrealistic ambitions are to be expected. Take away the censured and blamed factor of wine, and no one will deny the twin qualities of pomp and hospitality in hotels. Our modern and stylish grand hotels are very popular for their pleasing to the eye. However, these bright shops, richly dressed greedy crowd, superficial and selfish chatter, and the confusion and confusion and hesitant mental state reflected in all these are all due to the love of lights, ostentation and finery. All this must have seemed grotesque to an outsider in the eternal tranquility of the stars. Under the stars, the hotel was like a flower of lights, blooming in the night wind, a strangely bright flower that blooms only at night, A joyful rose that exudes fragrance, attracts insects, and is attacked by insects. "Did you see the man who just came in over there?" Hurstwood glanced at the man who had just come in. He was wearing a top hat and a frock coat, and his fat face was bulging because of the prosperity of life. Appeared rosy. "No. Where is it?" asked Drouet. "There," said Hurstwood, casting his eyes in that direction, "the one with the silk hat." "Oh, yes," said Drouet, now pretending not to look there, "who is he?" "His name is Jules Wallace, and he is a spiritualist." Drouet watched the man's back with great interest. "He doesn't look like one to deal with ghosts, do you think?" said Drouet. "I don't understand that either," replied Hurstwood, "but he's made a lot of money, that's true." He winked at Drouet. "I don't quite believe in such things, do you?" asked Drouet. "You can't say such a thing," answered Hurstwood, "perhaps there is some truth in it. But I don't mind it myself. By the way," he added, "you want tonight Where are you going?" "I'm going to see The Burrow," said Drouet, referring to a popular farce that was going on at the time. "Then you should go, it's half past eight," he said, taking out his pocket watch. The hotel clientele has thinned out: some go to the theatre, some to the club, some to the women... the most attractive of all kinds of entertainment, at least to the class of hotel patrons. "Yes, I am going," said Drouet. "Come over again after the play, and I have something to show you," said Hurstwood. "Certainly," said Drouet cheerfully. "You have no appointment to-night," repeated Hurstwood. "No." "Then you must come." "On the train coming back on Friday, I made the acquaintance of a little beauty," said Drouet, when they parted. "My God, it is lovely. I must go and see her before I go." "Well, don't think of her," said Hurstwood. "Really, she's pretty, don't lie," said Drouet, with all his heart, trying to impress his friend. "Come at twelve," said Hurstwood. "Sure," promised Drouet, and went away. Thus Carrie's name was mentioned in this frivolous place of pleasure. Meanwhile, the little working girl was bemoaning her doom. This lamentation would follow, almost as a shadow, in the early stages of her unfolding life. she.