anything, indoors or out as occasion offered, until
he was fairly perspiring, when, throwing down whatever implement he had
in hand--be it cards, a tennis-racket, a golf club--would declare,
"That's enough! That's enough! I'm done now. I've licked-cha," or "I'm
licked. No more. Not another round. Come on, Dreiser, I know just the
place for us--" and then descanting on a steak or fish planked, or some
new method of serving corn or sweet potatoes or tomatoes, he would lead
the way somewhere to a favorite "rat's killer," as he used to say, or
grill or Chinese den, and order enough for four or five, unless stopped.
As he walked, and he always preferred to walk, the latest political row
or scandal, the latest discovery, tragedy or art topic would get his
keen attention. In his presence the whole world used to look different
to me, more colorful, more hopeful, more gay. Doors seemed to open; in
imagination I saw the interiors of a thousand realms--homes, factories,
laboratories, dens, resorts of pleasure. During his day such figures as
McKinley, Roosevelt, Hanna, Rockefeller, Rogers, Morgan, Peary, Harriman
were abroad and active, and their mental states and points of view and
interests--and sincerities and insincerities--were the subject of his
wholly brilliant analysis. He rather admired the clever opportunist, I
think, so long as he was not mean in view or petty, yet he scorned and
even despised the commercial viewpoint or trade reactions of a man like
McKinley. Rulers ought to be above mere commercialism. Once when I asked
him why he disliked McKinley so much he replied laconically, "The voice
is the voice of McKinley, but the hands--are the hands of Hanna."
Roosevelt seemed to amuse him always, to be a delightful if ridiculous
and self-interested "grandstander," as he always said, "always looking
out for Teddy, you bet," but good for the country, inspiring it with
visions. Rockefeller was wholly admirable as a force driving the country
on to autocracy, oligarchy, possibly revolution. Ditto Hanna, ditto
Morgan, ditto Harriman, ditto Rogers, unless checked. Peary might have,
and again might not have, discovered the North Pole. He refused to
judge. Old "Doc" Cook, the pseudo discoverer, who appeared very shortly
before he died, only drew forth chuckles of delight. "My God, the gall,
the nerve! And that wreath of roses the Danes put around his neck! It's
colossal, Dreiser. It's grand. Munchausen, Cook, Gulliver, Marco
Polo--t