NOTABLE CALLERS

Evening Star, Issue 21746, 14 June 1934, Page 13

NOTABLE CALLERS

AT DESK OF GREAT HOTEL “ Oscar Wilde came into the hotel in 1881, my first day on the job. I said to myself when I went home that night: It’s a fine job you’ve got for yourself, Mike Toner, permitting you to see so much that is wonderful in the world.’ ” , r . , . But in the fifty-three years Michael Toner has spent behind the same desk at the Hotel Grand, New, York, he never did see anything to beat that spectacle of Oscar Wilde demonstrating the unimportance of being earnest, reports an American paper. “ The door slammed open," said Mr Toner. “ It’s a revolving door now, but it wasn’t then. Well; it slammed open, and I looked up from the register to see a huge sunflower in the very prime of condition strut down the lobbv. Behind it was * pale young man", with flowing hair. He was dressed in a blue velvet coat, and blue velvet knickerbockers, with a froufroued shirt, and low-cut shoes, adorned by silver buckles. A magnificent show he was, all by himself.” For more than half a century Mr Toner has stood behind a desk and let the world come to him. . “ There was Henry Ford," continued Mr Toner, “ dressed like a country parson, pule and serious. He occupied a 2dol room, and was very nice—so nice that I remember feeling sorry he was engaged in such a hazardous occupation as horseless carriages. He gave me a ticket to the first automobile show in 1900, and 1 went to cluck and shake my head. One day Andrew Mellon brought ms son in. the boy who was destined to become Secretory of tbe Treasury under three Presidents, and one of the world s richest men. . “ Young Andy was in his early twenties. and looked exactly like his father Used to,” said Mr Toner. The old man never smiled, never looked anywhere but straight ahead, and never spoke more than ho was compelled to. They were careful tippers, and stopped in our odol suites.” At that time Frank Woolwortb was not as fortunate as be was later. He was stowed away on the top floor; for Idol, and then only because his cousin, a steward in the hotel, had wheedled a, bargain out of the management. Woolwortb could not afford it, but he thought a.good address would be good business. . .. „ r . “ Very proper and serious, Mr Woolworth was," recalls tbe clerk. 11 At that time he had invested his last—or fi rs t_7oodol in an incredible kind of store in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, a store where nothing cost more than a dime. He came to New York, I think, to "et tbe capitalists interested. “Ho left a call one morning for 8 o’clock. At 6.30 be sent down to make sure it wasn’t 8 yet. He said he thought his watch might be slow. At 7 o’clock be was in tbe lobby, making anxious inquiries about tbe best means of getting down-town. He sat down with a newspaper, but he'was on the anxious seat good and sure. And in a few minutes he smiled apologetically at me and started out for His 10 o’clock appointment. It must have been mighty important, and I hope it turned out well. I guess it did. “ Frank Woolwortb was not much like Major John Calif, who was at Fort Sumter the day the Secessionists fired upon it. It has always been assumed in this hotel that the major fired the first Union shot of the war, but when the major slept it took the crack of doom to awaken him. He left a call for 9 o’clock once, and when 9 came and went the only response to the bellboy’s knocking was a weak grunt. I tied a feather duster to a window pole, being a young man then, climbed on a chair, and poked it through the transom. I tickled him until T saw- his eyes open slowly. Tlierl 1 scooted “ In fifteen minutes tbe officer was down in the lobby thundering like the guns before Antietam. He lectured us for not awakening him on time,” said Ml- 'rimer. ‘ I bad to get up myself.’ he roared. ‘ Fortunately for me T have a sense of time. When I decide to get up at a certain hour, my mind automatically awakes me.’ ”