Frank Lucius Packard

The Adventures of Jimmie Dale Frank Lucius Packard

Among New York's fashionable and ultra-exclusive clubs, the St. James stood anacknowledged leader-more men, perhaps, cast an envious eye at its portals, of modestand unassuming taste, as they passed by on Fifth Avenue, than they did at any other clubupon the long list that the city boasts. True, there were more expensive clubs upon whosemembership roll scintillated more stars of New York's social set, but the St. James wasdistinctive. It guaranteed a man, so to speak-that is, it guaranteed a man to be innately agentleman. It required money, it is true, to keep up one's membership, but there weremany members who were not wealthy, as wealth is measured nowadays-there weremany, even, who were pressed sometimes to meet their dues and their house accounts, butthe accounts were invariably promptly paid. No man, once in, could ever afford, or ever hadthe desire, to resign from the St. James Club. Its membership was cosmopolitan; men ofevery walk in life passed in and out of its doors, professional men and business men, physicians, artists, merchants, authors, engineers, each stamped with the "hall mark" of theSt. James, an innate gentleman. To receive a two weeks' out-of-town visitor's card to the St. James was something to speak about, and men from Chicago, St. Louis, or San Franciscospoke of it with a sort of holier-than-thou air to fellow members of their own exclusiveclubs, at home again