  Peggy had never seen anything like it! The tremendous, high-ceilinged rooms paneled in darkly polished brown wood led in a seemingly endless procession from one to the other, connected by arch after arch. In front of them, across the first room, four steps mounted up to a kind of gallery, itself an immense chamber that stretched back as far as one could see. In the front of the gallery, near the steps, a small, three-piece orchestra played Viennese waltz music. Peggy noted with amusement that the three musicians looked as old as the restaurant, almost as if they had been playing ever since opening night. To the right, an oversized archway connected the room they were in with what appeared to be the central room of the place, even higher and more glittering than the others. Peggy’s eyes mounted up toward the ceiling, which appeared to be three or more stories high, and she saw that it was a kind of old-fashioned leaded glass skylight. Another arch between the rooms contained the largest ship model that she had ever seen. It was a full-rigged ship and stood easily six feet high. Everything here was on such a large scale! Even the beer steins that stood all around on shelves high on the paneled walls were immense. Some would easily hold two quarts of beer. Everywhere were waiters scurrying about between the crowded tables, carrying trays loaded to improbable heights with dishes, glasses, covered serving vessels, baskets of bread, rolls, and cheeses. The whole place glittered with hundreds of lights, each caught and reflected in the tall mirrors, the glassware and the polished wood. And the noise! The many conversations, the clink of silver on dishes, the rattle of glasses, the waltz tunes of the small orchestra, all blended into one happy, congenial roar. Peggy and Amy stood dazzled by the sights and sounds of Luchow’s, and tried to get their bearings, while Randy and Mal checked their reservations with the headwaiter. Soon they were assigned by this impressive personage to a lesser headwaiter whom Peggy thought of as their guide. This gentleman, beckoning them to follow, plunged into the jungle of tables and, in a kind of safari fashion, they tracked him through several rooms, up some steps to a gallery like the one on which the band was playing, and to a large round table by the rail. It was not until they were seated that Peggy realized that there was not an endless number of rooms, but only about six. The illusion was caused by giant mirrors on either wall, set in arched frames like the arches that separated the rooms. Even so, it was the biggest and busiest restaurant that either she or Amy had ever seen. “Well, what do you think of it?” Randy asked. When Peggy replied with a smile and a bewildered shake of her head, he continued, “I know. It always affects me that way, too, but I still love to come here. This is what New York was really like in the Gay Nineties, and they haven’t changed a thing that they didn’t have to change. Even the lighting fixtures,” he pointed out, “are the original gaslights, except that they’ve had to wire them for electricity. But the best thing is—as it should be—the food. That hasn’t changed either. Let’s order now, then we can talk.” The menu, Peggy thought, was of a size to match the restaurant, and it was crammed with dishes she had never heard of, most with German names, many with British names. At Randy’s suggestion, she let him order her dinner, which was sauerbraten, the house specialty. Amy, less adventurous about food, settled for roast beef. Randy ordered a lobster for himself, and Mal asked for roast larded saddle of hare, which made Amy shudder a little. “I just don’t like the idea of eating rabbits,” she explained. “They’re such cute little things!” Mal grinned. “If you once start to think like that,” he said, “you’d have a hard time eating at all. Think about all those cute lambs, and those nice, sweet-tempered cows. And think about—” “I do my best not to think about them,” Amy interrupted, “and if you don’t stop, I’m going to order a vegetable dinner and have an awful time!” Still, when the food came, she and Peggy consented to try the hare, and were forced to agree that it was one of the most delicious things they had ever tasted. Amy also liked Peggy’s sauerbraten, which was a kind of sweet-and-sour pot roast of beef, done in a rich brown gravy and served with potato dumplings and red cabbage. “You know, it’s an odd thing the way Americans eat,” Mal said between bites of the saddle of hare. “I’ll wager that there are millions of people in this country who have never eaten anything but beef and pork and perhaps a bit of fish. And I don’t mean poor people, either. I found out on my first tours here that there are many parts of the country where you can’t even get lamb or veal, and mutton is almost unheard of.” “Is it very different in England?” Peggy asked. Randy answered before Mal had a chance to reply. “In England they eat things that would make the average American turn pale with fright.” He laughed. “They eat suet puddings and kidney pies and chopped toad....” “Chopped toad!” Amy almost shrieked. “It’s not at all what it sounds,” Mal explained in his most British tones. “It’s actually a sort of a hamburger thing, and it’s not made of toads or anything like toads. And, personally, I can’t stand it.” “Is the food the reason why you left England?” Amy asked teasingly. “Partly,” Mal said with a smile. “But not because I didn’t like it. I liked it well enough when I could get it. The reason I left was that I wasn’t able to earn enough money to eat with any degree of regularity. When I got a part with an American movie company that was filming a picture in England, I was asked to come back with them, and I jumped at the chance. I made a few films in Hollywood, and then I decided to come to New York.” “Why did you leave pictures?” Peggy asked. “I mean, if you were working, and if you were starting to be an established actor, why did you come to the Academy to study?” “I didn’t like the roles I was being given,” Mal answered. “It’s because of my face, you know. I look like a young thug, so I was given nothing but young thug parts. But, when you come to think of it, how many roles are there for young thugs with English accents? Besides, I didn’t want to spend the whole of my life in cops-and-robbers films. I decided that I should try the stage, where I might have a chance to play a variety of roles. Also, I thought I might like to direct. The trouble was that I had no experience with stage technique, so I applied to the Academy for a year of basic training. It was there that I met Randy, who has given me my first chance to direct, and now that I’ve had a taste of it, I know that’s what I really want to do.” “It’s nice of you to say that I’ve given you a chance to direct,” Randy put in, “but unless Peggy and Amy can produce a theater, I’m afraid that the chance will be a strictly imaginary one. Which reminds me, how are you girls doing with the search?” Peggy told him about the troubles they had encountered in making up a list, and he nodded sympathetically. “We’re finished with that part of it now,” she said in tones of relief, “and we only have to finish checking against the phone book before we go out to look.” “And when will you start?” Randy asked. “Tomorrow afternoon, I think,” she said. “We ought to be done with the telephone book by noon, if we don’t sleep the whole morning away as a result of this heavy dinner. Then we can look in the afternoon.” “Sounds good,” Randy said. “It looks as if the best help we can give you is to see to it that you work off this dinner so that you don’t waste the morning in sleep! What do you suggest, Mal?” “Dancing,” Mal said firmly. “Best way to get rid of the full feeling. But, unfortunately, I can’t dance on an empty stomach, so we’d best order a sweet, right?” The girls and Randy protested with groans, but somehow managed to eat every scrap of the thin pancakes with lingonberries that Mal ordered for them. A final cup of coffee, and then it was time to go. “I feel as if my dress is going to split any minute!” Peggy whispered to Amy. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk to the door, much less dance!” Stepping out of Luchow’s, leaving its noise, gaiety, and glitter behind, was once more like making a transition between worlds. Fourteenth Street, now almost deserted, looked even sadder and more run-down than before. The night lights in the windows of the closed shops cast baleful gleams on the pavement; the thin sound of a cheap dance band far off lent its sad jazz beat to the relatively quiet night. Peggy shivered a little in the first chill of autumn. “It’s like two different cities, in there and out here,” she said. “It’s a shame, isn’t it, that the real one is out here?” Catching her mood, Randy put a reassuring arm about her shoulders. “It’s two hundred different cities,” he said, “and the real one is wherever you happen to be at the moment. So let’s leave this one, to make it unreal, and go uptown. By the time we turn our backs on this, it will disappear.” And it did disappear, or nearly, in the sophisticated decor and subdued harmonies of the St. Regis Roof. Randy was, as Peggy had suspected, a fine dancer. His lightness and his certainty helped her, and she knew that she had never danced so well before. But even as they floated about the gleaming floor, the sounds of the elegant music could not quite drown out the tinny jazz sound of Fourteenth Street that echoed in her mind. No, she thought, Randy had not been altogether right. This beautiful room, these handsome, well-dressed people were not nearly so real as the world outside. And it was that world, in which she would start her search tomorrow, that stayed uppermost in her thoughts through the rest of the dreamlike night with its dancing, its carriage ride around the park and (or was this too a dream?) Randy’s gentle good-night kiss on the steps of the Gramercy Arms. |
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