The lobby. Looks enormous. Looks like a small island of carpet on an endless sea of marble tile. Come, Smithers! We can make it to the sofa, and gather our strength for the journey beyond.

I would have loved to have seen the murals in their glory, before they were completely obscured by cigar smoke. The walls certainly made an impression: welcome to the land of gold.

Remember, this was modern once. They certainly thought it was modern. Few things have dated as poorly as the pre-20s styles; they’ve all been assigned to the 19th century, pushed back to an era of spittoons and horse dung.