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Updated: June 17, 2025
In Eighteen Hundred Ninety-eight, my friend Major Pond wanted to book me on a partnership deal at the Waldorf-Astoria. I didn't want to speak there I had been saying unkind things in "The Philistine" about the Waldorf-Astoria folks. But the Major went ahead and made arrangements. I expected to be mobbed. But Mr.
Then he Spunked up and said that if she was going to look a Gift Horse in the Mouth, they wouldn't Talk about it any more. In the meantime the Grass Widow was living at the Waldorf-Astoria. MORAL: Those who are Entitled to it Get it sooner or later. The Prosperous Farmer lived in an Agricultural Section of the Middle West. He commanded the Respect of all his Neighbors.
Brett, just a few lines, saying that I was alone in New York, in a little difficulty, and remembering his kind offer, I ventured to ask if he would come to the Turkish Room at the Waldorf-Astoria to help me with advice. A messenger took the letter such an aggressively brisk child, I was sure he wouldn't waste a second on the way and as soon as he had gone I was beset with fears lest Mr.
Afterward the chums figured it out that Liz meant "Waldorf-Astoria." "Do you think you would like to go with us?" Laura asked. "I dunno yet. Where is it?" Laura explained more fully about the camping site, how they were to get there, and other particulars of the project. "It listens good," Liz said, reflectively. "Though I ain't never cooked nothin' but soft-soap over a campfire."
"I was in the Waldorf-Astoria at a tea-table near the window when the head of the column came in view. I, too, liked the looks of those pretty girls carrying the banner, but before I could decide which one I liked best, my dearly beloved brother hove in sight, with eyes glued on the third one, wandering down the Avenue like either a slow-hatching lunatic or a good subject for a hypnotist.
The Waldorf-Astoria alone tops all residential buildings with eleven hundred and twenty telephones and five hundred thousand calls a year; while merely the Christmas Eve orders that flash into Marshall Field's store, or John Wanamaker's, have risen as high as the three thousand mark.
Jackson Wylie, Sr., had hard work to hold himself in, and he was at a high state of nervous tension when, on the morning of the fourteenth day of May, he strolled into the Waldorf-Astoria and inquired at the desk for Sir Thomas Drummond. There was no Sir Thomas stopping at the hotel, although a Mr. T. Drummond from London had arrived on the Campania the day before. Mr.
What I am trying to say, of course, is that the Palace is a tradition just as the Waldorf-Astoria is a tradition, only not at all in the same way. The Palace is a great place for women who are alone and a place where a man may bring "the missus" with impunity. The Palace is stylish, perhaps, but principally it is select.
"And the Fi'th Av'noo, and the Waldorf-Astoria," mimicked McGuire. "Told you I went broke. I'm on de bum proper. I've got one dime left. Maybe a trip to Europe or a sail in me private yacht would fix me up pa-per!" He flung his dime at a newsboy, got his Express, propped his back against the truck, and was at once rapt in the account of his Waterloo, as expanded by the ingenious press.
Well, so long, old man, I have got to go to dinner with dad, and I am going to order the dinner myself, dad said I could, and if I don't put him into bankruptcy, you don't know your little Hennery. The Bad Boy and His Dad Have Dinner at the Waldorf-Astoria The Bad Boy Orders Dinner The Old Man Gets Stuck Tries to Rescue a Countess in Distress. Waldorf-Astoria, New York.
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