On June 20, 1907, Sam was a guest at Brown’s Hotel, a five-star hotel in Mayfair, London. Established in 1832, Brown’s Hotel remains London’s oldest luxury hotel which has never been renamed, rebuilt, or relocated. On this day, Sam certainly drew everyone’s attention. Although drawing the gaze of others was nothing new to Sam, those who witnessed him were absolutely shocked. According to the Chicago Tribune, Sam “appeared in the foyer of Brown’s Hotel garbed only in a blue bath robe and slippers.” Perhaps more shocking was that Sam had “about three inches of bare legs showing.” Patrons, employees, and the concierge of the hotel “fairly gasped for breath.” Sam noticed them to be sure, but he was unbothered by their stares. He scanned the foyer for a moment with a look as if he was resisting a smile from overtaking his face. Sam cooly walked out the door and onto Dover Street with his fully dressed male secretary, R.W. Ashcroft, following closely behind.
Dover Street was busy with throngs of shop girls on their way to work. When one person gasped, several others in the vicinity turned to see what had caused the gasp. When they gasped at the sight of a 71-year-old man with bushy grey hair and mustache, wearing only a bath robe which showed a full three inches of his legs and slippers on his feet, others nearby turned to see. Gasps caught like wildfire and quickly spread up and down Dover Street. Sam shuffled across the street through the astonished crowd and into a nearby bathhouse. With wide eyes and mouths hung open, the people on Dover Street continued to their destinations.
After half an hour or so, Sam caused a similar sensation when he walked out of the bathhouse, crossed the street full of shocked Londoners, and walked back into the foyer at Brown’s Hotel. The manager of the hotel was aghast at the sight of Sam in his “three-piece costume,” (bathrobe and a pair of slippers), but he made no fuss because, he concluded, a great man like Sam “must be allowed to do as he pleases.” Sam “professed wonder at the excitement he had caused.” “I simply wanted to take a bath,” he said, “and did the same thing I’d often done at the seaside. London is a sort of a seaside town, isn’t it?”
Many people around the world agreed that Sam was a great man. King Edward VII of England thought so as well. Sam and the king had been somewhere on the hierarchy between acquaintances and friends for several years. Sam had a good reason for wanting to take his bath. He had a special invitation to attend the king’s garden party on the following day. Sam and the king had enjoyed a “jolly laugh” a few years earlier over a discussion about a story Sam had written about him. In the story, Edward, then Prince of Wales, had passed Sam in the street without stopping to chat. Sam later revealed that the prince was riding in his royal carriage while Sam was “riding on top of a penny bus.”
Of the 8,000 guests at the King’s garden party on the lawn of Windsor Castle, Sam was one of the favorites. When Queen Alexandra made her way over to Sam, he raised his hat “with courtly grace in salutation,” replaced his hat, and began chatting with the queen as if they had been lifelong friends. The queen seemed to enjoy the lack of formality and, mid-laugh, called the king over. Rather than removing his hat as custom dictated, Sam reached out and shook the king’s hand. Queen Alexandra laughed aloud at this breach of etiquette. Her laughs increased in volume and frequency as Sam spouted some humorous remark and patted the king on his arms and shoulders. The king and queen laughed heartily as Sam told of his shocking shuffle across Dover Street on the previous day. If you know Sam, and I know you do, you will understand that stories such as this were commonplace for Sam’s larger-than-life alter ego. You know Samuel Clemens better as Mark Twain.
Sources:
1. Chicago Tribune, June 21, 1907, p.1.
2. Liverpool Daily Post, June 24, 1907, p.9.