The Roaring Twenties

Fitzgerald recalls how the uncertainties of the 1920’s were drowned in a steady, golden roar.

1

It was three years before we saw New York again.  As the ship glided up the river, the city burst thunderously upon us in the early dusk.

2

A miracle of foamy light suspended by the stars.  From that moment I knew that New York, however often I might leave it, was home.

3

The tempo of the city had changed sharply.  The uncertainties of 1920 were drowned in a steady golden roar and many of our friends had grown wealthy.

4

The restlessness of New York approached hysteria.  The parties were bigger —  the pace was faster —  the shows were broader . . .

5

. . . the buildings were higher, the morals were looser and the liquor was cheaper.

6

But all these benefits did not really minister to much delight.  Young people wore out early . . . and none of them contributed anything new.

7

Many people who were not alcoholics were lit up four days out of seven . . . Most of my friends drank too much — the more they were in tune to the times the more they drank.

8

I found a moment of peace riding south through Central Park at dark where the facade of 59th Street thrusts its lights through the trees.  There again was my lost city, wrapped cool in its mystery and promise.

9

The city was bloated, stupid with cake and circuses.  My barber retired on a half million bet in the market and I was conscious that the head waiters who bowed me or failed to bow me to my table were far, far wealthier than I.

10

Once again I had enough of New York and it was good to be safe on shipboard where the ceaseless revelry remained in the bar in transport to the fleecing rooms of France.