BILLIARDS is better than all your doctors,"wrote Mark Twain, one of the greatest billiard enthusiasts this world ever knew. From youth to old age (for he played the game when well over seventy) he lost no opportunity of indulging his favourite pastime. In later years, when prosperity had become an established fact, and money was rolling in, he built a fine residence, which he named "Stormfield." The one room beloved of all was the billiard room. When this residence was nearing completion Mark Twain had one of the surprises of his life. Amongst the multitude of those who admired the humorist for his works, a few could claim friendship. One in particular was the financial magnate, Colonel Henry Rogers, whose wife decided to make Mark Twain a very handsome birthday gift in the shape of a billiard table for the new home, It so happened the residence was completed some time before the birthday arrived. So like a bubbling schoolboy, he writes to Mrs. Rogers, asking her to forward the table on, as the birthday could wait but he couldn't.
The table duly arrived and was installed with honours. Mark Twain says it was a handsome table, one with pockets and for carom playing.
Possibly a combination of English billiards with the American game. Soon after the house-warming there came a relapse in the health of Mark Twain; the doctor insisted that nothing less than a trip East to the Holy Land (to get the sea voyage more particularly) would save him. But, he could not bear to leave his beloved table. Ill though he was, he would play even against the doctor's orders; he began to improve in health. Writing in the exuberance of improving health to his dear friend, Colonel Rogers, he says: " Tell Mrs. Rogers I'm not going East after all, I find that billiards is better than all your doctors, and I'm staying right here,"and stay he did, and fully recovered his health. Many were the friends that gathered to that billiard room.
One, in particular, I wish to mention who, incidentally, was his biographer. This personage was Bigelow Paine. When the biography was about to be written, Mark Twain, not wishing it to be too tedious, made a pact that" mornings only "were for business, preparing the biography material and" afternoons and evenings for billiards."Bigelow Paine became a residential guest for the time being, and billiards sparring partner, as arranged. Paine says that Mark Twain's energies for billiards were almost inexhaustable; so impatient was he to get at the table, he could scarcely wait to finish his meals, and often left them unfinished, and paced the dining room until his partner was ready; then off they would go to their play.
Paine says that Mark Twain did not mind losing, but, not too often. On one particular occasion, Paine made an atrocious shot. He knocked all three balls off the table. Mark Twain gasped, and in a moment exclaimed, "Say, Paine, every time you take up that damned cue of yours, this table trembles and sweats in every pore." Well, that was a shot fit to win any BILLIARD PLAYER prize anyway. A day came (after the biography had been completed, and Bigelow Paine had gone), when visitors were announced, who were no less than that American Marvel, Helen Keller and her no less wonderful interpreter attendant. Blind, deaf and dumb, as Helen Keller was—she could enter into many enjoyments and communicate through lip service in a wonderful way. Mark Twain welcomed them and after lunch they were shown over the residence. Finally coming to the billiard room, Helen Keller describes the room as one that actually saw everything there, all this by interpretation on lips with finger tips. After describing the table, Mark Twain, as one would expect from him, said:" Come along, Helen, I'll teach you how to play billiards." Helen Keller replies: "Oh! it takes sight to play billiards."
Mark Twain answered with a twinkle "Not the sort that Paine and Rogers play. The blind couldn't play worse." Poor Paine's flukes were indelibly impressed on Mark Twain, he could never forget those three balls at once disappearing. But he also said of Paine (on one occasion) that he was possessed of "nigger's luck," which was, he hit hard, shut his eyes, and prayed to providence, and, generally got something. One little story of an incident that happened on a lecturing tour, and I will conclude.
Mark Twain was at the place somewhere in Calaverson's County, where the jumping frog story came from. During the afternoon of a sultry day, he wandered down town to seek out a billiard table of some sort and rolled into a salon. Not a soul in sight, excepting the salon attendant. Asking for a game, the attendant says "yes, let's see you knock the balls around for a minute, so as I can judge your handicap." Mark Twain obliged, and the attendant says "Well, I guess I'll play you left handed, and that will about make us level." Mark Twain says he thought this was a generous concession, as he was rather proud of his own abilities. So to play they went, and, I believe, had a side bet on the issue. It so happened the attendant won, and Mark Twain settled up. Feeling a little piqued, however, as he had fancied his chances, he said, "Say, boss, I'm wondering what sort of a show I'd have had if you played right handed." The quick reply came: "Stranger, it would have been a pinch for you, I've never played right-handed in my life."