A YANK IN LONDON

Auckland Star, Volume LXXV, Issue 177, 28 July 1944, Page 3

A YANK IN LONDON

LITTLE RACKETS EVERYONE EXPECTS TIPS (By WALTER McCALLUM) LONDON. It has become a common joke all over London that an American can get a taxi merely by yelling, while a native born Londoner stands on the pavement and vainly waves umbrella. The reason is that the Americans tip lavishly, far too lavishly in the view of many Britishers. But the Americans, with their high military pay scale, have quiet laughs at the series of minor rackets with which London is infested. They are small in each instance, but in the aggregate they amount to something. Small-time racketeering is a business in London, although the British condone it and don't like it.

A few days ago, strcfrling through Hyde Park, I paused to listen to the fury and fire of one of those sidewalk orators, the gents who stand on soap boxes and rent and rave against the Government, unhampered by the police. The pavement was hard and the sun was warm. I sat on a near-by chair, one of a row of chairs along a barbed-wire railing, an echo of the days when London faced invasion.

Along came a man in a blue uniform. , He stopped in front of my chair and mumbled something which I didnt understand, and asked him to repeat. Finally I got the idea, after several repetitions, that I was supposed to pay twopence, or four American cents, for the privilege of sitting in a chair in the park. The Government, he said, had leased to a private firm the right to put chairs in the parks and charge for them. I could use that chair or a similar one twenty-four hours if I wanted.

Bus Conductors, Too

. You are supposed to tip the ushers m movie houses, the girls who show you to your seat, and the tip thing even has gone so far nowadays that the clippies," or bus conductors, who usually are women, are getting tips.

But one of the nicest little rackets came along the other night while I was waiting for a taxi at one of London's better hotels. It was midnight and I was tired, and spoke to the doorman for a cab, expecting to tip him the usual shilling. He said he just happened to have a hotel car in the drive and I could have it. I didn't ask him the price, which is where I made the big mistake. It cost me 13/ for a 2/ taxi-ride. But as an experience in smoothness of operation it was worth it. That little car belonging to the hotel just happened to be there and available— maybe. In some restaurants the food comes along on a steam table, casserole style, served by a man in a chef's tall white cap. He serves your joint, or game, and he expects at least a shilling tip. You don't just order a drink at your table from your table waiter. You ask for the wine waiter, who serves everything from beer up to champagne at, according to the wine list, up to 22 dollars a bottle. The wine waiter is supposed to get his 10 per cent tip, too.

Maybe minor racketeering has not been well developed in America. The boys in the back room could learn a few things in London. —Auckland Star and N.A.N.A.