Greetings, my friends! This time I am 'broadcasting' from a new studio - and at the unearthly hour of 1:30 A.M. My 'studio' is the office of the Knickerbocker Hotel; my job: night clerk. I am telling you about it, my first night on duty because I think it carries a nice story of faith and trust. To begin with, I had to give up my highly prized child's library, "How and Why," because I could not give the required six hours a day to the work. Because of a temporary (I hope) infirmity I have been scanning the "Help Wanted" ads for an easy job. I spotted this in yesterday morning's paper. I got dressed and went down. The desk clerk was sorry, the morning paper had put the ad in the wrong section. They wanted a man for the night turn. The new owner of the hotel was at the desk, beside her, and suddenly I knew several reasons why I was better than any man. This nice Jew said, "I believe I'll change my mind." When I offered references, he replied, "You've already passed your examination." And just took me on trust. This experience is in sharp contrast to the application for the war-time job, and the red tape that reached all the way to Colorado and back again. A dear auntie out there - my father's sister - had to furnish a notarized affidavit to the fact that I was born, where, when, and why. Then were mental and manual skill tests, physical examinations, and all kinds of references required. Of course that was wartime, and they had to be careful. But it's very nice to be taken on faith this way...
It is now five nights later. I am keeping a diary of events. One thing sure, there will never be lack of material for the column. I wonder what Virgil will say. By the way, he is due home from Texas tomorrow, the 15th. How would you like one or two letters (or even three) about Texas, written by the traveller himself? He likes everything in Texas but the weather. Too hot for him. Enough for now. But we'll be with you next week.
Sincerely,
Florence B. Taylor
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