The Prison Mirror

Brass Palace Bits
by MAC

The heat wave we had in the last week of July has given way to true Minnesota weather, but for a while it was so hot in the O.D.R. we had to use the oven for an icebox. The waiters were detected wearing ice cubes in their aprons, and Shad Crawford was caught fanning the ice tea.

Genial Jimmy Laird and Howie Hays now make up the culinary staff in the kitchen, and judging from the pleased comments of the clientele, are doing a nice job. Jimmy is an operator with a frying pan, and can mold a biscuit that will sooth the fussiest ulcer. Howie as understudy and second cook, brings order to the department with his expert method of unscrambling the most complicated order roared in by the mighty Pollack.

In mentioning some of the luminaries in this second floor dinnery, we have omitted one Buck (short time) Danielson, the headwaiter. This could prove to be an error, inasmuch as a pot and pan rejuvenator has but one supreme ambition, to become a waiter. So if the following sounds like brass polishing, it is, dad, but with merit.

Buck has complete charge of the two rooms that seat the warden, parole commission, and office personnel. Serving between twenty and thirty people at the noon meal, I have a strong suspicion he has two heads. How else can a man keep fifteen orders straight in one head?

I tried memorizing an order once, one mind you, and by the time I had it ironed out enough to turn in, they had changed the menu.

This lad takes 15, mixes them up (just for kicks) reverses them, strolls around pouring water with a little light conversation thrown in for free, then saunters out and repeats them word for word to Howie, right down to the last potato—a work of mnemonics, to be sure.

Buck's spare time is spent repairing other peoples' alarm clocks. Always fascinated by people who can do things, I watched him perform on Shad's.

After removing the mainspring and about a hundred other parts, he proceeded methodically to clean and oil each and every part. Wonderful technic. Thorough workmanship. Upon completion, the clock was probably cleaner than when it came from the factory, plus having that well-polished look that comes only when an expert has been at work. In view of this I find it hard to understand Shad's attitude; he keeps muttering. "My clock won't run anymore."

Steady...