Vignettes Of San Francisco | Page 7

that he is is revealed. One
knows immediately that his favorite song is "My Bonnie Lies Over the
Ocean," and that his ideal man is Governor Allen and that he is on his
way to spend his "remaining days" with his sister Lottie in Los
Angeles.
Who would eat "stewed tripe Spanish." Someone must or they wouldn't
advertise it on the outside of he restaurant. Well, it takes all sorts of
people to make a world. Probably the man who would order "stewed
tripe Spanish" wouldn't touch an alligator pear salad. To him alligator
pears taste exactly like lard. To the person who wouldn't eat "stewed
tripe Spanish" they are a delicacy.
A crowd around a window. On your tip-toes to see. It's that fascinating

Lilliputian with a beard and electric bowels who stands in drug store
windows and administers corn cure to his own toes with a smile.
The professional window shopper is a vagabond at heart - a loiterer by
nature. Here is one gazing in a photographer's window to discover
someone he knows. These two are not professionals though but a spring
couple looking in furniture windows for nest material. And sailors
wandering about, nothing but kiddies, lonesome looking and no doubt
wishing we were at War again and hospitable once more.
Here is a "Pershing Market" and a "Grant Market," beside it. There's a
lot of that in San Francisco. Is there an "Imperial Doughnut?" Up goes
a "Supreme Doughnut" next door. It's the spirit of "I'll go you one
better every time." It's the spirit of Market street.

Cafeterias

This is not to hurt the feelings of anyone, for some people are very
sensitive about cafeterias. They are cafeteria wise, they have a cafeteria
class consciousness. Such people are to be admired. They have accurate
minds which enable them to choose a well-balanced meal at minimum
cost. Lacking that sort of mind, I do not get on well in cafeterias. As
sure as I equip myself with a tray and silver in a napkin and become
one of the long procession, I lose all sense of proportion, and come out
at the end with two desserts, or a preponderance of starches or with too
much bread for my butter, and a surprising bill.
Those who are cafeteria wise can choose a good meal for 28 cents or 33
cents at the most. They don't take food just because it looks delicious.
They "yield not to temptation." They have a plan and stick to it. Wise
and strong-minded, they shuffle their way bravely to the end. It is said
that in time they acquire a cafeteria shuffle which one can detect even
on the street. But I don't believe it's so.
Other sections of the country have cafeterias and in some parts of the

South, especially in Louisville, they are run quite extensively. But it is
in the West, especially in California, that they have attained a dignity
and even lavishness that makes them the surprise and delight of the
tourist. Irvin Cobb says that this is the cafeteria belt of which Los
Angeles is the buckle.
We have music in our cafeterias. We have flowers on the tables. People
don't just eat in them, they dine. They take their guests there. Our
cafeterias have galleries with rocking chairs and stationery. They have
distinctive architecture. We take visitors to see them. We brag about
them, and when we wish to be especially smart we pronounce them
caffa-tuh-ree-ah.
Personally, I am proud of our cafeterias, but I do not get on in them. I
enter hungry. I look sideways to see what other folks are eating. I
decide to have corned beef and cabbage and peach short cake and
nothing else. Then in the line I have the hurried feeling of people back
of me, and that I ought to make quick decisions. Everyone ought to eat
salad, so I take a salad. Then some roast beef looks good so I take that,
and the girl asks briskly with a big spoon poised, if I'll take potatoes,
and I don't wish potatoes, but she makes a great nest of them beside the
meat and fills the nest with gravy and I pass on. According to Hoover
or Maria Parloa or Roosevelt, I ought to have a vegetable, and so I take
two. Meanwhile I have taken bread, but the woman ahead takes hot
scones and so I do. I choose some thick-creamed cake, very fattening,
but just this once, and then, oh, I don't know. The tray is heavy and no
place to put it, and in my journeying I peek at the bill and it's over 75
cents, and when I finally sit down opposite a stranger I find on my tray
two salads, and when