George Ade

In Pastures New George Ade

It may be set down as a safe proposition that every man is a bewildered maverick when hewanders out of his own little bailiwick. Did you ever see a stock broker on a stock farm, or a cowpuncher at the Waldorf?A man may be a large duck in his private puddle, but when he strikes deep and strange waters heforgets how to swim. Take some captain of industry who resides in a large city of the Middle West. At home he isunquestionably IT. Everyone knows the size of his bank account, and when he rides down tobusiness in the morning the conductor of the trolley holds the car for him. His fellow passengers aredelighted to get a favouring nod from him. When he sails into the new office building the elevatorcaptain gives him a cheery but deferential "good morning." In his private office he sits at a $500 rolltop desk from Grand Rapids, surrounded by push buttons, and when he gives the word someone isexpected to hop. At noon he goes to his club for luncheon. The head waiter jumps over two chairsto get at him and relieve him of his hat and then leads him to the most desirable table and hoversover him even as a mother hen broods over her first born. This Distinguished Citizen, director of the First National Bank, trustee of the CemeteryAssociation, member of the Advisory Committee of the Y. M. C. A., president of the Saturday NightPoker Club, head of the Commercial Club, and founder of the Wilson County Trotting Association, is a whale when he is seated on his private throne in the corn belt. He rides the whirlwind andcommands the storm. The local paper speaks of him in bated capital letters, and he would be moreor less than human if he failed to believe that he was a very large gun. Take this same Business Behemoth and set him down in Paris or Rome or Naples. With a redguide book clutched helplessly in his left hand and his right hand free, so that he can dig up thecurrency of the realm every thirty seconds, he sets forth to become acquainted with mediævalarchitecture and the work of the old masters. He is just as helpless and apprehensive as a countryboy at Coney Island. The guides and cabmen bullyrag him. Newsboys and beggars pester him withimpunity. Children in the street stop to laugh at his Kansas City hat known to the trade as a Fedora. When he goes into a shop the polite brigand behind the showcase charges him two prices and giveshim bad money for change.