Visitors to the 1893 World’s Fair frequently complained about the behavior of restaurant staff, with claims of their padding the bill of fare to not offering polite service. While venturing into cafes and bars among the various international villages of the Midway Plaisance, guests faced even greater tensions due to language barriers and differences in cultural norms.
The Beer Garden in front of the Castle in the German Village, 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition. [Image from Unsere Weltausstellung. Eine Beschreibung der Columbischen Weltausstellung in Chicago, 1893. Fred. Klein Co. 1894.]
The other day a clergyman and his wife from the southern part of the State took luncheon in the “Castle” of the German village. The prices seemed rather exorbitant to them, but they enjoyed the fifteenth century surroundings and then paid the additional ten cents to go in to see the curios in the museum. It was all money well spent. As they came out of the moated castle they heard the sweet music from the garden.
The admission to it was twenty-five cents more, but it was warm, and they were tired, and the signboard said that it was a Royal Prussian band or something of the kind, and they never expected to have another such opportunity, and they thought there was no better or cheaper way of hearing sweet music than for twenty-five cents, and they bought two tickets. It was a little shocking to them to see so many people sitting at tables drinking beer, but the garden was large and there were plenty of tables unoccupied, and no trouble at all to find pure atmosphere in what looked exactly like a beer garden instead of a concert given by a Royal Prussian band.
They had not been at the table long before a waiter came up and asked them in German if they had ordered. They did not understand him and told him so in English. He shook his head and went away. In a few minutes, just as the band was in the sweetest strains of “Marguerite,” another waiter came and asked them in English if they would have beer. The clergyman shook his head in a very dignified manner and never looked at the waiter. The waiter looked at him with a frown and moved away a few feet. He waited until the music stopped and then said again:
“Vill you have peer?’’
“No, young man, I will not,’’ said the clergyman.
“Vill you coffee?”
“No, nothing,” was the reply.
The waiter was sullen and reported the good man, evidently, to headquarters. In a few minutes more they were told that those chairs and tables were for people who wanted to eat and drink. They arose from the shady nook, and with a half regretful and half-longing look—regret for the squandered fifty cents and longing for the beauties of the garden—they sauntered out into the hot sun on the road.”
SOURCE
Dean, Teresa White City Chips. Warren Publishing Co., 1895, pp. 207–08.
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