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“ ‘Heavy’ saloons, I used to call them. I’d pop my head in the door of one of these ‘heavy’ saloons, and not seeing anybody I knew right well, I’d say, in my best London accent: ‘Sorry! I thought Mr. Stevens was here. He promised to meet me here at five-thirty.’ You see, I knew your time for this place, knew Brother Lardner’s time for that place — I had everybody’s schedule, and it required a lot of drinking on my part when you were all on time at your favorite drinking places.”
“And when we weren’t there?”
“A trifle harder on the feet, that’s all. A little more standing around, diffidently . . . waiting . . . waiting for Mr. Lardner, or Mr. Houseman, or yourself. I always said I was waiting for somebody . . . even when I was only waiting for anybody . . . anybody who’d breeze in and say, ‘Hello, Bert! what you doing here?’ and give me a chance to chum and make myself at home. Funny what a man’ll do for human companionship !”
“I hear A1 Woods will make a star of you next season.”
“A star? I asked him to bill it ‘The Pink Slip
with: ”
“Good play?”
“I think so. I’m a porter in the hotel at Catalina Island; an awful liar; but a character. And I’ve got a song coming along that ought to have character in it, too. I sing it with a dog; with a gangling-legged outcast dog. A lady has given me a dollar to take this dog out and feed him, and her husband has given me five dollars to take the dog out and drown him. There ought to be some character in that song, not to say problem. I’m working it out — slow — way I do every