April 15 Saturday – In Chicago Sam was abed with a bad cold — see Apr. 13 entry. With Sam laid up, exploration of the Paige typesetter manufacturing fell to Frederick J. Hall, who undoubtedly reported back to Sam that the machine was again disassembled.
At 6:30 p.m. Sam wrote to Joseph Medill, managing editor of the Chicago Tribune, on pictorial Great Northern Hotel stationery:
My Dear Mr. Medill —
Won’t you please tell my brother partner the bearer, the address of a good physician & don’t tell anybody I am ill [Twainucopia 56].
Note: penciled on the verso “Dr. Billings” not in Sam’s hand. Dr. Frank Billings (1854-1932) was a well known figure in American medicine. He is best remembered for the pioneer work he performed in bringing about the standardization of medical education in the U.S.
The Chicago Daily Inter Ocean, p.8 ran “Colony of Mermaids: Mark Twain to Exhibit a Lot of Fish-tailed Girls.”
The next time that Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) comes to Chicago desiring to conceal his identity and to escape the representatives of the press he had better consult a Cook County geography. Yesterday morning [Apr. 14] he registered at the Great Northern from East Chicago. The name S.L. Clemens was at once recognized as that of the famous humorist, but “East Chicago” seemed to discredit the supposition that it was the great and only Mark. North, West, and South Chicago were accounted for, but it was figured that East Chicago must be somewhere out in the lake. Cards were sent to the mysterious inhabitant of “East Chicago Out in the Lake,” and it was suggested that if the person were not really Mark Twain he might at least, from the situation of his homesite, throw some light upon the nature and habits of the sea serpent that has been flapping its tail so much out in that direction. The cards were always returned with the statement that either the gentleman was not in or did not desire to meet anyone. It was toward evening when one of the clerks said: “There is the man who registered as S.L. Clemens.” The man had gotten himself mixed up with a crowd of Javanese, Arabs, and Hottentots who were inspecting the lobby and galleries of the big hotel. Mr. Clemens’ complexion is dark anyhow. He had been out in the cold and his coat collar was turned up to his ears, and his hat, which did not look unlike a fez dyed black, was pushed down over his bushy head and eyes. People in the lobby gazing at the peculiar-looking foreigners supposed that Mark was one of them, and in fact one of these dark-visaged gentlemen themselves seemed to think that if he were not one of them he was some other kind of foreigner, and jostled him about and talked to him in a most familiar kind of way.
When Mr. Clemens reached the desk he remembered that he was going to sail immediately for Europe, where he would be taken for an American and not an imported freak. He acknowledged then, in his drawling tone, that he was Mark Twain.
“Why did you register from East Chicago?”
“I wanted to escape the press,” he answered, “as I did not want to receive callers and correspondents that would ensue. I am on strictly private business, and expect to sail in a few days for Europe, where I have left my family.”
In explanation of the location of East Chicago he divulged the alleged object of his visit. He had known that every kind of curiosity, foreign and domestic, human and animal, had been brought to Chicago, so on his way across the ocean he had picked up a colony of young mermaids, who he thought could stand fresh water. These he domiciled in the submarine villa of “East Chicago.” Special boats, he said, will be run by the syndicate he represents out to the spot in the lake over the village of the mermaids every evening after warm weather begins. These sirens will float to the top with their aeolan harps and make music that will float away on the gentle zephyrs of the lake. Passes will only be given to press representatives and managers of the theaters and the other combinations on Midway Plaisance [an entertainment strip of 80 acres at the Columbian Exposition]. [Scharnhorst, Interviews 137-8].