January 20, 1918 - Don Martin writes about British war sacrifices

Don Martin diary entry for Sunday, January 20, 1918: 
Slept rather late. Walked through a new part (for me) of London, Soho Square section. London is certainly an interesting city. Judd Welliver came up to my room at 7 and we went to Simpson’s for dinner. Then I went to the office for an hour or so. Am pretty well convinced that no one does any work in the Herald Bureau so will shake it up a bit. Wrote about 4 columns for mailing Also wrote to Dorothy.

Weather rainy part of day but warm. Moonlight.

        Don Martin wrote a lengthy story about British war sacrifices on January 20, which was published in the New York Herald on Wednesday, January 30, 1918.

British Set Example for America in War Sacrifices Without Even a Grumble

People Stint Themselves and Pay Exorbitant Prices for Things Once Commonplace, But They Accept Condition Philosophically—Anything to Whip the Hun, National Cry

 [Special to the Herald]

Herald Bureau, No. 130 Fleet Street, London, Jan 20, 1918

     Measured by what London and all other English cities are now enduring the United States knows nothing of the discomforts and sacrifices of war. It is perhaps well that the millions of New York, Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia and the hundred other large and small cities of the newest of the Allies prepare themselves for some of the things London is now accepting with philosophic patience.

     England’s statesmen all agree that the great burden has been transferred to America and that, having accepted the role of idealist and altruist among the nations of the earth, she must bear great sacrifices of all kinds. 

     Winston Churchill, one of Britain’s most eminent statesmen, sounded the clarion call to America recently when he told the American Luncheon Club that the “greatest shocks and the greatest convulsions of the entire war are yet to come, and that England, France and Italy, the veterans of the war, are calling urgently and constantly for the sturdy, fresh soldiers from America.” Without them, he states quite plainly, the outcome of the war is in doubt. 

     England is economizing in every way. She is getting enough to eat, but she is not overeating by any means. For instance, the menu at the last dinner of the American Luncheon Club consisted of three courses—fish, fowl and rice pudding, with coffee. There are virtually no banquets. Dinners at private homes and clubs are characterized by the simplest and scantiest fare. Fish and poultry seem plentiful, but they are conserved to compensate for the shortages of red meats. Fruit is scarce and costly. 

Grapefruit is Not Seen

Grapefruit is not seen. Baked apples, pineapples or other fruits common in America, are not served for breakfast, and oranges can be obtained only in the very best hotels, and then at a cost of upward of a shilling (24 cents) a piece. Jam is quite plentiful—too plentiful, in fact, for the stranger in Great Britain. In the leading hotels a good breakfast is just now composed of two soft boiled eggs or fried eggs (and they are fresh eggs by the way), two small pieces of half wheat bread or toast, two very fragile pieces of butter, a small portion of porridge (oatmeal or cornflakes), some jam or jelly and a pot of coffee, with hot milk and a very meager share of sugar. Two ordinary lumps of white sugar, which have lost weight through much handling, are as much as any one can get for one pot of coffee, and it not infrequently happens that even at the best hotels one is told that there “is no sugar or butter to-day.”

     Beef and mutton may be served at dinner and luncheon, but in small portions, and no one is permitted to double his order. An abundance of fish, however, and a remarkable culinary versatility on the part of the French and Italian chefs makes it possible for one to get a reasonably tempting meal and a variety which prevents the grumbling that might ordinarily be expected. 

     Eggs can be bought in all parts of the city. Fresh eggs sell for upward of $1 a dozen. Storage eggs are not much cheaper. Butter is scarce, and when obtainable brings from 60 to 80 cents a pound. Margarine has taken the place of butter in all the thickly populated sections of London, and even that is not to be had on all occasions.

     Fruit stands which were once almost as numerous as in New York city, are not seen now. Oranges which ordinarily sell in American for five cents each, bring a shilling for two, and the very best grades sell as high as 18 cents a piece. Bananas can be bought for seven and ten cents each, and apples and pears range from four to twenty-five cents a piece.

     Clothes, leather goods—in fact, all clothing—has risen in price in England, but people are not going hungry or ragged, because people have more money than ever before. And, oddly enough, the millions of London and the rest of Britain not only take the new situation philosophically, but are reconciled to a further curtailment and a still great increase in price.

Work for Every One

     There is no army of unemployed. Every one who wants to work in Great Britain has work to do. Wages are higher than ever before. Men who prior to the war made $6 and $7 a week are now earning as high as $20, and others get in the neighborhood of $26 and $30 a week. Girls who used to get $2.50 and up to $4 a week are now getting weekly from $20 to $30 working in munitions factories.

     So prosperous are many of the workers among the younger women, in fact, that they wear expensive clothes and appear in costly garments. They have no difficulty in getting all the food they require, but, like persons in higher walks of life, are quite willing to do without many of the things which the war makes difficult to obtain. 

    When Great Britain found that she had engaged on a long and costly war she took a long look ahead, so that she might make her supreme effort when her foes might well believe she was at lowest ebb. In the same way, economically, she is taking a long look ahead. She is storing her food products, so far as is possible, so that, no matter how tense or disastrous the submarine menace may become, she will be prepared for a long strain. Her food controllers have received assurances that many new ships will be available long before the date set by the shipmasters, and that there is plenty of food in Australia, South America and North America to prevent anything like want in England or among the men at the front.

     Matches are a luxury. The small boxes which are so plentiful in America—which one may buy for a penny anywhere—are to be bought now and then, but they are so scarce that in hotel lobbies, clubs and private homes tapers are used. Fireplaces everywhere make this system of cigar and cigarette lighting quite convenient.

     So far as general appearances go there is little except the presence of many soldiers everywhere to indicate that the nation is at war. All the theatres are open and are doing in most instances a standing room only business. The “movie” houses are crowded. The hotel restaurants are always filled at lunch and dinner time, and in a few of the larger hostelries there are large after theatre crowds. Evening dress is not seen a great deal.

     The mourning which is such a sombre and depressing concomitant of the war in the Continental cities is not seen so much in London. The people with sadness in their homes—and there are, of course, a multitude of these—take their grief as they do everything else connected with the war—with a most remarkable outward show of indifference.

     The London nights, of course, are gloomy. Constantly threatened air raids keep the city in darkness. Still, no one complains. The city’s millions have become accustomed to it. There are few street accidents. There are practically no night robberies notwithstanding, one might say, the stage is ideally set for a veritable orgy of thievery and plunder. One may pass through Trafalgar or Leicester square or stroll along the Strand and not know that he is in what ordinarily is one of the world’s most brilliant and lively spots.

     Tea rooms all over the city are crowded between four and six o’clock in the afternoon with the exception of Sunday. Close to Trafalgar square one may see any afternoon fully 2,000 persons having their tea. There has been no curtailment of this luxury, and there is no prospect that curtailment will be necessary. Sweets, which London liked before the war, have been replaced with plain cakes, and London is satisfied.

     Along Oxford street, Piccadilly, Regent street and the Strand the shop windows are just as attractive as ever. Displays in jewelry shops along Regent street are gorgeous, and sales have not greatly diminished in the higher class shops. The fashionable clad crowds which are to be seen on this world thoroughfare during the summer months in peace times are not to be seen now, but the street is crowded nevertheless. 

Tight Lid—Treating Illegal

     As a drinking centre London has completely lost its standing. The bars are open from twelve to three P. M. and from half-past six to half-past nine P. M. each weekday and on Sundays from one to three and half-past six to nine. There are no infractions of the law. If one is a minute ahead of time or a minute late he cannot get a drink, and he may as well reconcile himself to that situation at once. 

     Treating is illegal. There are few violations of this rule either. There were hundreds of convictions for violation of this law when the new order of things went into effect, and now few persons, either in the fashionable hotel bars or public places where they are well known, care to take a chance on being arrested. The courts accept no excuses. When one is arrested and convicted for buying a drink for another he is fined for the first offense about $5. The man whom he treated and the bartender or proprietor are also fined. For a second offense the fine all around is $50 and probably loss of license for the owner of the bar.

     The enforcement of this anti-treating law and closing of the bars during most of the day have reduced drinking in England to a minimum. The impression prevails that it is a question of but a short time—a few years at the outside—when there will be complete prohibition in Great Britain. 

     Few pleasure automobiles are seen in the streets of any English city. There are plenty of taxis in London, but there is an almost complete absence of the expensive cars which once moved three deep along the fashionable thoroughfares. Persons of wealth have given them up without protest or complaint as part of the general programme of saving.

     The amazing patience with which England faces her situation furnishes proof of the spirit which has made her the great nation she has always been. One may talk with the workers of the east end or the prosperous merchants and bankers of the aristocratic residence sections—the sentiment is identical. Germany must be whipped; Germany will be whipped, and to make the victory certain and complete it is the duty of every one to do his bit, whether it be on the firing line or in the home. And Great Britain is surely doing it.

     Don Martin also wrote an interesting piece dated January 20 about producing plays for American soldiers, which was published in the New York Herald on Monday, February 4, 1918.

Actors to Produce Plays Abroad for American Soldiers and Nurses

[Special to the Herald]

Herald Bureau, No. 130 Fleet Street, London, Jan. 20

     E. H. Sothern and Winthrop Ames soon will be in Paris to complete arrangements for a series of theatrical entertainments for the American soldiers. They will have the authority to lease one of the leading French Theatres to be used exclusively for plays for the soldiers. Companies will be organized among the soldiers on leave—and at the front as well—to provide diversion for the men at the various camps and particularly at the Y.M.C.A. headquarters near the front and in the larger villages and cities.

     Announcement to this effect was made on January 18 by E. C. Carter, who came from France especially to address the American Luncheon Club at luncheon. Mr. Carter is in charge of the Y.M.C.A. in France. He has been there for many months.

     “We feel extremely fortunate,” said Mr. Carter, “that we are able to get two such distinguished figures in the dramatic world as Mr. Sothern and Mr. Ames to come to our assistance. The suggestion was made some time ago that we might interest both these men, though we had doubts about it. We cabled them and to our delight and surprise they said they would come to Europe at once. They will be asked to organize a stock company or two in America, to be brought to France, and they will probably get a company or two together in England. Then there is a great deal of talent among the soldiers. Many men who have been stars in vaudeville and in the legitimate drama, too, come into our huts. They will be taken in hand by our new directors—Mr. Sothern and Mr. Ames—and molded into real casts to give various plays for the soldiers. We expect that the theatre which we shall lease in Paris will have shows by all the companies.

    “We are not at all badly off for women, either. Among the nurses there are quite a few who have been prominent in theatricals, both professionally and amateur. Altogether we shall furnish a splendid attraction for our soldiers.”

     F. E. Powell, toastmaster at the luncheon, said that the Y.M.C.A. is surrounding the soldiers with a home atmosphere and giving them entertainments of such a wholesomeness and diverting character that they will benefit by their war experience rather than be harmed by it, as some fear.