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Updated: July 3, 2025
Drew know that he was responsible for this tribute. Dr. Drew called him "brother," and shook his hand a great many times. During the meetings of the Advisory Committee, Babbitt had hinted that he would be charmed to invite Eathorne to dinner, but Eathorne had murmured, "So nice of you old man, now almost never go out." Surely Eathorne would not refuse his own pastor.
THERE are but three or four old houses in Floral Heights, and in Floral Heights an old house is one which was built before 1880. The largest of these is the residence of William Washington Eathorne, president of the First State Bank. The Eathorne Mansion preserves the memory of the "nice parts" of Zenith as they appeared from 1860 to 1900.
Babbitt nodded his head at every fifth word in the roaring rhythm; and by the conclusion, in Gunch's renowned humorous vein, he was enchanted: "Still, at that, George, don't know's you can afford it. I've heard your business has been kind of under the eye of the gov'ment since you stole the tail of Eathorne Park and sold it!" "Oh, you're a great little josher, Verg.
Yes, oh yes. And so, in fact, it pleases me to be able to say that though personally I might prefer the sterner Presbyterianism of an earlier era " Babbitt finally gathered that Eathorne was willing. Chum Frink suggested as part-time press-agent one Kenneth Escott, reporter on the Advocate-Times. They parted on a high plane of amity and Christian helpfulness.
When he mentioned his friends Sir Gerald Doak, Lord Wycombe, William Washington Eathorne, and Chum Frink, he was proud of their condescending interest.
So well trained was Babbitt in all the conversation that befits a Good Fellow that he almost disgraced himself with "Rather than make trouble, and always providin' there ain't any enforcement officers hiding in the waste-basket " The words died choking in his throat. He bowed in flustered obedience. So did Chum Frink. Eathorne rang for the maid.
He lost the accumulated weariness of business worry and expansive oratory; he felt young and potential. He was ambitious. It was not enough to be a Vergil Gunch, an Orville Jones. No. "They're bully fellows, simply lovely, but they haven't got any finesse." No. He was going to be an Eathorne; delicately rigorous, coldly powerful. "That's the stuff. The wallop in the velvet mitt.
Most of the castles of the testy Victorian tetrarchs are gone now or decayed into boarding-houses, but the Eathorne Mansion remains virtuous and aloof, reminiscent of London, Back Bay, Rittenhouse Square. Its marble steps are scrubbed daily, the brass plate is reverently polished, and the lace curtains are as prim and superior as William Washington Eathorne himself.
Babbitt did not drive home, but toward the center of the city. He wished to be by himself and exult over the beauty of intimacy with William Washington Eathorne. A snow-blanched evening of ringing pavements and eager lights. Great golden lights of trolley-cars sliding along the packed snow of the roadway. Demure lights of little houses.
But afterward he winced, "If that white worm had the nerve to try to drag me back to the Old Church Home, then the holy outfit must have been doing a lot of talking about me, too." He heard them whispering whispering Dr. John Jennison Drew, Cholmondeley Frink, even William Washington Eathorne.
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