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Updated: June 28, 2025
Says it's all rot and lies. He's dead right, of course. But there's nothing else for him to do, so he just fights booze. Better make a few inquiries at Silent Charley's." "What's that?" "Quiet little bar kept by a talkative Swede. 'Rickey' Hoff hung out there a lot. Charley even had a room fixed up for him to lay off in when he was too pickled to go home."
He accepted a gin rickey, but declined rather curtly the suggestion of a little spree over Sunday to a resort on the Cape which formerly he would have found enticing.
Yet when I think of a hot Scotch on a winter evening, or a Tom Collins on a summer morning, or a gin Rickey beside a tennis-court, or a stein of beer on a bench beside a bowling-green I wish somehow that we could prohibit the use of alcohol and merely drink beer and whisky and gin as we used to. But these things, it appears, interfere with work. They have got to go.
Amby and 'Chita splurged on a cafe parfait and a grape juice rickey. Other dissipated couples at nearby tables were indulgin' in canapes of caviar and frosted sarsaparillas. But shortly after midnight the giddy revellers begun to thin out and the girl waiters got yawny. "How about a round of strawb'ry ice cream sodas; eh, Amby?" I suggests. "No," says he, "I'm no high school girl.
Get me a brandy smash a sherry cobbler a gin rickey rock and rye a whisky sour a mint julep! What! Nothin'? What in thunder do ye sell, then?" The drawer scratched his head, and then grinned suddenly and gave vent to a dry laugh. "Well said! Well said, master! The jest is a merry one call me a Jew else!"
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