The Drummers' Retreat
On the second floor of the Mary-Etta, there was a room, kind of like a small lobby, called the Drummers' Retreat. The west windows looked out over the roof and skylights above the party rooms, and on across to another brick wall, but the room was often sunny and inviting for people who wanted to smoke or read or conduct a small, private meeting. The Drummers' Retreat was furnished with Stickley-style mission oak chairs and end tables, along with the mandatory ash trays and a few old magazines. One summer, though, Mom and Dad set up several beds to make a temporary dormitory for railroad workers who came to town after a train derailment near Jansen. (Mom told me later that the derailment became a tremendous blessing for us, because the hotel was filled to overflowing for several weeks while the workers cleaned up the huge mess.)
Once in a while, when both of the party rooms were in use, tables and chairs were set up in the Drummers' Retreat to serve a meal to a third group of people. I imagine that as many as twenty people could be served comfortably in that room, but it was only used for that purpose when absolutely necessary, since it was quite a ways away from the kitchen. That's when the dumbwaiter came in handy to transport dishes and food up and down, to and from the kitchen below. The waitresses really got a work out, too, from scurrying up and down the back stairs.
When we first moved to the Mary-Etta, I wondered how that room got its name. Obviously, the Drummers' Retreat wasn't a band room! (The only band instrument I remember is Dan's cornet, which he practiced loudly and discordantly in his bedroom in the late afternoons when few, if any, hotel guests would be disturbed.) Eventually, I learned that the word "drummer" was a rather archaic word meaning "salesman." Now, to be politically correct, we would say "sales representative," but at that time, all of the salesmen who stayed at the hotel really were men. I walked by the empty room often, on my way to and from the laundry room or the back stairs that led to the kitchen. Some of the salesmen, as well as any other guests who wanted to, used the room occasionally, but it seems to me that the Drummers' Retreat was the most under-used space in the hotel. If it still existed today, the Drummers' Retreat would be filled with exercise equipment or computers with internet access. In the twenty-first century, it might easily be the busiest room in the hotel.
My favorite memory of the Drummers' Retreat happened one sunny Saturday afternoon, sometime in the early 1970's, when Mom and I were perched on top of two wooden ladders, painting the walls. A gentle autumn breeze was wafting through the open windows as we listened to the radio broadcast of another exciting Cornhusker football game. We stopped to cheer whenever the Huskers made a touchdown, then went back to our painting. When the Huskers were winning, everyone was a fan. Come to think of it, that may have been the only time that the sound of drums was heard in the Drummers' Retreat, when the radio was broadcasting the University of Nebraska Marching Band playing the Nebraska Fight Song after every touchdown.
Once in a while, when both of the party rooms were in use, tables and chairs were set up in the Drummers' Retreat to serve a meal to a third group of people. I imagine that as many as twenty people could be served comfortably in that room, but it was only used for that purpose when absolutely necessary, since it was quite a ways away from the kitchen. That's when the dumbwaiter came in handy to transport dishes and food up and down, to and from the kitchen below. The waitresses really got a work out, too, from scurrying up and down the back stairs.
When we first moved to the Mary-Etta, I wondered how that room got its name. Obviously, the Drummers' Retreat wasn't a band room! (The only band instrument I remember is Dan's cornet, which he practiced loudly and discordantly in his bedroom in the late afternoons when few, if any, hotel guests would be disturbed.) Eventually, I learned that the word "drummer" was a rather archaic word meaning "salesman." Now, to be politically correct, we would say "sales representative," but at that time, all of the salesmen who stayed at the hotel really were men. I walked by the empty room often, on my way to and from the laundry room or the back stairs that led to the kitchen. Some of the salesmen, as well as any other guests who wanted to, used the room occasionally, but it seems to me that the Drummers' Retreat was the most under-used space in the hotel. If it still existed today, the Drummers' Retreat would be filled with exercise equipment or computers with internet access. In the twenty-first century, it might easily be the busiest room in the hotel.
My favorite memory of the Drummers' Retreat happened one sunny Saturday afternoon, sometime in the early 1970's, when Mom and I were perched on top of two wooden ladders, painting the walls. A gentle autumn breeze was wafting through the open windows as we listened to the radio broadcast of another exciting Cornhusker football game. We stopped to cheer whenever the Huskers made a touchdown, then went back to our painting. When the Huskers were winning, everyone was a fan. Come to think of it, that may have been the only time that the sound of drums was heard in the Drummers' Retreat, when the radio was broadcasting the University of Nebraska Marching Band playing the Nebraska Fight Song after every touchdown.
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