Social Training for the Recently Rich

GEORGE S. CHAPPELL

A New School for Making Millionaires Not Only Presentable but Welcome

NEW YORK society is menaced with disruption—and all because of the armistice. This doubtless sounds like the cry of an alarmist but, believe me, Reader, it is not. I will state the case briefly and prove it afterwards.

During the. Great War a tremendous shifting of capital took place. Weak and nerveless hands, which had previously found their sole occupation in cutting coupons, proved utterly inadequate before the forceful competition of a new element*: the captains of industry who have been brought to the surface by a sudden boiling-over of the melting-pot. The figures are at hand to back me up. Bradstreet's for 1919 shows over two hundred new millionaires in Bridgeport alone, the by-product of our war-industries. Think also of Buffalo, New Haven, Chicago, Washington and a hundred or more towns and cities. Think what all this means to the country at large, and think further what it means to New York society.

Is it not obvious that the world of manners is tottering on its base? These men, these fledgling capitalists, are of the dreadnaught type. Theirs is the strong will, the dominant brain, the crushing brawn. But when one considers their social acquirements one shudders.

HEN this thought first struck me I was almost overcome. I seemed to see, in a flash of imagination, the Ritz tea-room on a crowded afternoon, when a flock of these stalwart plutocrats were, perchance, told that all the tables were reserved. I drew back in horror at the mental picture of carnage and destruction. "And such," I thought, "such is the fate of the charming, polite society in which we have lived, to which we have looked forward during the strenuous years of conflict, unless . . . unless!" And then came the Great Inspiration.

"The Chappell School of Social Science!" Yes, there it is, Reader, in all its beautiful simplicity; no mere correspondence-deportment course, but a living vital organization, with a hand-picked faculty, prepared to seize upon these wonderful five-star, last edition Croesuses and train them from the ground up! To teach them the deft handling of the asparagusstalk, as well as the bandying of social amenities. To give them field and laboratory-work in holding a napkin, cup-and-saucer, and lettuce-sandwich in one hand while shaking hands with the other. To break them of saying "Shake hands with Mr. McTagg" by way of introduction, and to observe the other little rituals and repressions which mean so much in social progress.

Isn't it a magnificent thought? For we must receive them, you know. The golden key will unlock doors on the East Side as well as the West. And so why not do it gracefully? I, for one, welcome them. They are as refreshing as a Long Beach breeze in mid-August. But they must be trained.

And thus the Chappell School of Social Science—the S. S. S. as our college cry goes— came into being.

We are already installed in magnificent surroundings, occupying the entire twentieth floor of New York's newest and largest hotel, for scientific observation showed that whenever a group of fresh-laid millionaires reached our fair city they invariably gravitated toward the most modern hostelry in sight. If, therefore, a newer and larger hotel is completed before this article reaches the public, I shall move my S. S. S. to it forthwith.

TO show you what I have already accomplished let me give you a brief outline of our surroundings and curriculum. But first consider, for a moment, the extraordinary character of my proteges, men and women whose days have hitherto been devoted to ceaseless manual labor, time-cards, blue shirts, dinnerpails and all the impedimenta of honest toil. Suddenly, they are snatched from shovels and hovels to the pinnacles of prosperity. One day a puddler, the next a Prince. Is it not plain that these worthy citizens must receive the most rudimentary instruction in the art of abstaining from labor? The problem is the proper non-employment of our previously employed.

As I have stated, I have leased space far above the distracting noises of the city for, curiously enough, I find that my pupils are extremely sensitive to sound in most unexpected ways. For instance, the immensely wealthy Mr. D. McGinnis, who came to me dennison-tagged with the inscription, "If not delivered within ten days, return to the Union Metallic Cartridge Co., Bridgeport, Ct." Mr. McGinnis, I say, while apparently deaf to the crash of a 40-ton girder dropped from the Forty-second Street viaduct, was at the same time made painfully nervous by the slamming of motor-doors, while the sound of the Hungarian Orchestra heard through the windows of the Biltmore caused him to throw back his head and howl like a dog.

I have also taken a greater amount of floorspace than is usual for class-room work, as it will readily be seen that the number of square feet per head must increase in proportion to the number of "square heads" per foot, of which I have an incredible number. One can realize, for example, that Mr. Ole Peterson, late of the Electric Boat Company, demands greater cubage in which to perform the noon exercises of the cocktail-mixing group than would be required by the instructor, Mr. Percy Wagstaff, a graduate of the Racquet Club (with a degree of D. T. in Advanced Alcoholics). Mr. Peterson gives the shaker a giant-swing under the apparent obsession that he is still wielding the sledge hammer of his salad days.

SO much for the material equipment. Far more important than this is the mental training which must precede the granting of an S. S. S. diploma! Just previous to the opening of the school I concluded a series of exhaustive and exhausting experiments on various skull formations graded technically in four main groups, known to phrenologists as the ivory, bone, lime-stone and granite divisions. Imagine my surprise, not to say dismay, when I realized that none of the acids, surgical instruments or blasting powders used in my research work made the slightest impression on the cranial formations worn by my pupils. At once I realized that I must blaze a new path, which I found to be the apparently simple method of imitation.

To this end every course consists of a daily demonstration by experts which the class has only to watch to absorb. Naturally the first steps are simple. For instance, in the primary department half-hour exercises in walking on strange surfaces such as polished wood, marble, etc., are conducted, during which the students are allowed to retain their native hob-nails, which are gradually filed off before they are permitted to leave.

All this is preliminary to social ambulation. Later in the course diagrammatic plans of public places such as the Ritz,a box at the opera, or Mr. Ziegfeld's Follies are thrown on a moving picture screen while the instructor (Rex Van Scoop, Harvard, naughty-one) goes through the motions of entering, occupying and leaving the particular endroit.

But a mere mention of a few of the other courses must suffice plucked at random from the 1919 catalogue.

Course 23. Tableware and its uses.

This course is equipped with rubber-shod forks and safety-blade cutlery. Instructor— Prof. Gillette.

Course 31. Stress and Strain. The study of studs and how to use them; tensile strength of evening ties; how to break off the dickey habit. Instructor— Prof. Kaskell.

Course "47. Conversational Poise. The study of vocabularies suited to art, literature, music, sports, the stage, poetry, new thought and eurythmic dancing. Instructress, Mrs. Stuyvesant French.

THE above merely suggests the scope of my work. The last named course 47, in itself, covers a tremendous field. Under Mrs. French is a little faculty within a faculty—wheels within wheels, if I may so put it—composed entirely of ladies who, in the art of conversation far excel the average man. Each topic has its expert instructress recruited from the very top of her profession. Nothing is more touching than to see the dumb, almost bovine delight which greets charming little Miss Mae Zuic (of The Tumble-in Company) in her brilliant lecture (with illustrations), on the newer forms of dancing, which as Miss Zuic says in her vital way "are so convenient because they can be done in a telephone booth!"

In connection with this course occurred my only embarrassment when, at the recent Rainbow Ball at Sherry's one of my graduates, Mrs. Michael O'Rourke (of the Waterbury Brass Company O'Rourkes) reverted to type at the sound of a jazz-orchestra and performed a nervous break-down which loosened the chandelier in the main dining-room. Fortunately it was a great success and I understand she has repeated it several times for charity—in private.

From every side come offers of assistance in most encouraging volume. It only remains for those of us who are still true to the old traditions of "politesse" to extend a welcoming hand to this great solvent body of social aspirants who are gradually emerging from the dark background of the roller-towel and the occasional tooth-brush.