It was during this period, if I may interpolate an incident, that I was
waiting one night in a Broadway theater lobby for a friend to appear,
when who should arrive on the scene but L----, most outlandishly dressed
in what I took to be a _reductio ad absurdum_ of his first pose, as I
now half-feared it to be: that of the uncouth and rugged young American,
disclaiming style in dress at least, and content to be a clod in looks
so long as he was a Shelley in brains. His suit was of that coarse
ill-fitting character described as Store, and shelf-worn; his shoes all
but dusty brogans, his headgear a long-visored yellowish-and-brown
cross-barred cap. He had on a short, badly-cut frieze overcoat, his
hands stuck defiantly in his trousers pockets, forcing its lapels wide
open. And he appeared to be partially if not entirely drunk, and very
insolent. I had the idea that the drunkenness and the dress were a pose,
or else that he had been in some neighborhood in search of copy which
required such an outfit. Charitably let us accept the last. He was
accompanied by two satellic souls who were doing their best to restrain
him.
"Come, now! Don't make a scene. We'll see the show all right!"
"Sure we'll see the show!" he returned contentiously. "Where's the
manager?"
A smug mannikin whose uniform was a dress suit, the business manager
himself, eyed him in no friendly spirit from a nearby corner.
"This is Mr. L----," one of the satellites now approached and explained
to the manager. "He's connected with M----'s Magazine. He does short
stories and dramatics occasionally."
The manager bowed. After all, M----'s Magazine had come to have some
significance on Broadway. It was as well to be civil. Courtesy was
extended for three, and they went in.
As for myself, I resented the mood and the change. It was in no way my
affair--his life was his own--and still I resented it. I did not believe
that he was as bad as he seemed. He had too much genuine sense. It was
just boyish swagger and show, and still it was time that he was getting
over that and settling down. I really hoped that time would modify all
this.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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