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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #69110 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69110)
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of The magic Christian, by Terry Southern
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: The magic Christian
-
-Author: Terry Southern
-
-Release Date: October 7, 2022 [eBook #69110]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: Tim Lindell, Robert Tonsing and the Online Distributed
- Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was
- produced from images made available by the HathiTrust
- Digital Library.)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGIC CHRISTIAN ***
-
-
-
-
-
- _The Magic Christian_
-
-
- _By the same author_
-
- FLASH AND FILIGREE
-
-
- THE MAGIC CHRISTIAN
-
- TERRY SOUTHERN
-
- [Illustration]
-
- RANDOM HOUSE NEW YORK
-
-
- _Second Printing_
-
- © _Copyright, 1959, 1960, by Terry Southern
- All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
- Conventions. Published in New York by Random House, Inc., and
-simultaneously in Toronto, Canada, by Random House of Canada, Limited.
- Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 60-7681
- Manufactured in the United States of America
- by H. Wolff Book Mfg. Co., Inc._
-
-
- TO HENRY AND DIG
-
-
-_Little man whip a big man every time if the little man’s in the right
-and keeps a’comin’._
-
- Motto of The Texas Rangers
-
-
-
-
-Although this book was basically shaped by certain events, and by
-values otherwise manifest, over the past few years, it is not, in any
-strict sense, a historical novel—and, more particularly, the characters
-within it are not to be identified with any actual persons, either
-living or dead.
-
-
-
-
- _The Magic Christian_
-
-
-
-
- I
-
-
-When not tending New York holdings, Guy Grand was generally, as he
-expressed it, “_on the go_.” He took cross-country trips by train: New
-York to Miami, Miami to Seattle—that sort of thing—always on a slow
-train, one that made frequent stops. Accommodation on these trains
-is limited, and though he did engage the best, Grand often had to be
-satisfied with a small compartment fitted with scarcely more than the
-essentials of comfort. But he accepted this cheerfully; and so today,
-on a summer afternoon at precisely 2:05, it was with buoyant step
-(considering his girth—for, at fifty-three now, he was rather stout)
-that he climbed aboard the first Pullman of the _Portland Plougher_,
-found his compartment, and began the pleasant routine of settling in
-for the long slow journey to New York. As was his habit, he immediately
-rang the porter to bring round a large bottle of Campari and a bottle
-of finely iced water; then he sat down at his desk to write business
-letters.
-
-It was known that for any personal service Grand was inclined to tip
-generously, and because of this there were usually three or four
-porters loitering in the corridor nearby. They kept a sharp eye on the
-compartment door, in case Grand should signal some need or other; and,
-as the train pulled out of the station, they could hear him moving
-about inside, humming to himself, and shuffling papers to and fro on
-his desk. Before the train made its first stop, however, they would
-have to scurry, for Grand’s orders were that the porters should not be
-seen when he came out of his compartment; and he did come out, at every
-stop.
-
-At the first of these stops, which was not long in occurring, Grand
-went quickly to the adjoining day coach and took a seat by the window.
-There he was able to lean out and observe the activity on the platform;
-he attracted little attention himself, resembling as he did, with his
-pleasant red face, any honest farmer.
-
-From the train window one could see over and beyond the station the
-rest of the small New England town—motionless now in the summer
-afternoon, like a toy mausoleum—while all that seemed to live within
-the town was being skillfully whipped underground and funneled up again
-in swift urgency onto the station platform, where small square cartons
-were unloaded from a central car.
-
-But amidst the confusion and haste on the platform there was one
-recognizable figure; this was the man who sold hotdogs from a box he
-carried strapped to his neck.
-
-“They’re _red hot_!” he cried repeatedly, walking up and down parallel
-to the train and only a foot from it—while Grand, after a minute of
-general observation, focused all his attention on this person; and
-then, at exactly one minute before departure, he began his case with
-the hotdog-man.
-
-“Red hot!” he shouted; and when the man reached the window, Grand eyed
-him shrewdly for a second, squinting, as though perhaps appraising his
-character, before asking, tight-lipped:
-
-“_How much?_”
-
-“Twenty cents,” the hotdog-man said hurriedly—for the train was about
-to pull out—“... mustard and relish, they’re red hot!”
-
-“Done!” said Grand with a sober nod, and as the train actually began to
-move forward and the hotdog-man to walk rapidly in keeping abreast of
-the window, Guy Grand leaned out and handed him a five-hundred-dollar
-bill.
-
-“Break this?” he asked tersely.
-
-The hotdog-man, in trying to utilize all their remaining time, passed
-the hotdog to Grand and reached into his change pocket before having
-looked carefully at the bill—so that by the time he made out its
-denomination, he was running almost full tilt, grimacing oddly and
-shaking his head, trying to return the bill with one hand and recover
-the hotdog with the other. During their final second together, with
-the hotdog-man’s last overwhelming effort to reach his outstretched
-hand, Grand reached into his own coat pocket and took out a colorful
-plastic animal mask—today it was that of _pig_—which he quickly donned
-before beginning to gorge the hotdog through the mouth of the mask,
-at the same time reaching out frantically for the bill, yet managing
-somehow to keep it just beyond his fingers’ grasp, and continuing with
-this while the distance between them lengthened, hopelessly, until at
-last the hotdog-man stood exhausted on the end of the platform, still
-holding the five hundred, and staring after the vanishing train.
-
-When Grand finally drew himself back from the window and doffed his
-pig mask, it was to face a middle-aged woman across the aisle who was
-twisted halfway around in her seat, observing Grand with a curiosity so
-intense that the instant of their eyes actually meeting did not seem to
-register with her. Then she coughed and glanced away—but irresistibly
-back again, as Guy Grand rose, all smiles, to leave the day coach,
-giving the woman a wink of affectionate conspiracy as he did.
-
-“Just having a laugh with that hot-frank vender,” he explained. “... no
-real harm done, surely.”
-
-He returned to his compartment then, where he sat at the desk sipping
-his Campari—a drink the color of raspberries, but bitter as gall—and
-speculating about the possible reactions of the hotdog-man.
-
-Outside the compartment, even at the far end of the corridor, the idle
-porters could often hear his odd chortle as he stirred about inside.
-
-By the time the train reached New York, Guy Grand had gone through this
-little performance four or five times, curious fellow.
-
-
-
-
- II
-
-
-Out of the gray granite morass of Wall Street rises one building like a
-heron of fire, soaring up in blue-white astonishment—_Number 18 Wall_—a
-rocket of glass and blinding copper. It is the _Grand Investment
-Building_, perhaps the most contemporary business structure in our
-country, known in circles of high finance simply as _Grand’s_.
-
-Offices of _Grand’s_ are occupied by companies which deal in _mutual
-funds_—giant and fantastic corporations whose policies define the shape
-of nations.
-
-August Guy Grand himself was a billionaire. He had 180 millions cash
-deposit in New York banks, and this ready capital was of course but a
-part of his gross holdings.
-
-In the beginning, Grand’s associates, wealthy men themselves, saw
-nothing extraordinary about him; a reticent man of simple tastes, they
-thought, a man who had inherited most of his money and had preserved
-it through large safe investments in steel, rubber, and oil. What his
-associates managed to see in Grand was usually a reflection of their
-own dullness: a club member, a dinner guest, a possibility, a threat—a
-man whose holdings represented a prospect and a danger. But this was
-to do injustice to Grand’s private life, because his private life was
-atypical. For one thing, he was the last of the big spenders; and for
-another, he had a very unusual attitude towards _people_—he spent about
-ten million a year in, as he expressed it himself, “_making it hot for
-them_.”
-
- * * * * *
-
-At fifty-three, Grand had a thick trunk and a large balding
-bullet-head; his face was quite pink, so that in certain half-lights he
-looked like a fat radish-man—though not displeasingly so, for he always
-sported well-cut clothes and, near the throat, a diamond the size of a
-nickel ... a diamond now that caught the late afternoon sun in a soft
-spangle of burning color when Guy stepped through the soundless doors
-of _Grand’s_ and into the blue haze of the almost empty street, past
-the huge doorman appearing larger than life in gigantic livery, he who
-touched his cap with quick but easy reverence.
-
-“Cab, Mr. Grand?”
-
-“Thank you no, Jason,” said Guy, “I have the car today.” And with a
-pleasant smile for the man, he turned adroitly on his heel, north
-towards Worth Street.
-
-Guy Grand’s gait was brisk indeed—small sharp steps, rising on the
-toes. It was the gait of a man who appears to be snapping his fingers
-as he walks.
-
-Half a block on he reached the car, though he seemed to have a
-momentary difficulty in recognizing it; beneath the windshield wiper
-lay a big parking ticket, which Grand slowly withdrew, regarding it
-curiously.
-
-“Looks like you’ve got a _ticket_, bub!” said a voice somewhere behind
-him.
-
-Out of the corner of his eye Grand perceived the man, in a dark summer
-suit, leaning idly against the side of the building nearest the car.
-There was something terse and smug in the tone of his remark, a sort of
-nasal piousness.
-
-“Yes, so it seems,” mused Grand, without looking up, continuing to
-study the ticket in his hand. “How much will you eat it for?” he asked
-then, raising a piercing smile at the man.
-
-“How’s that, mister?” demanded the latter with a nasty frown, pushing
-himself forward a bit from the building.
-
-Grand cleared his throat and slowly took out his wallet—a long slender
-wallet of such fine leather it would have been limp as silk, had it not
-been so chock-full of thousands.
-
-“I asked what would you take to _eat_ it? You know....” Wide-eyed, he
-made a great chewing motion with his mouth, holding the ticket up near
-it.
-
-The man, glaring, took a tentative step forward.
-
-“Say, I don’t _get_ you, mister!”
-
-“Well,” drawled Grand, chuckling down at his fat wallet, browsing about
-in it, “simple enough really....” And he took out a few thousand. “_I_
-have this ticket, as you know, and I was just wondering if you would
-care to _eat_ it, for, say”—a quick glance to ascertain—“six thousand
-dollars?”
-
-“What do you mean, ‘_eat it_’?” demanded the dark-suited man in a kind
-of a snarl. “Say, what’re you anyway, bub, a _wise_-guy?”
-
-“‘_Wise_-guy’ or ‘_grand_ guy’—call me anything you like ... as long as
-you don’t call me ‘_late-for-chow!_’ Eh? Ho-ho.” Grand rounded it off
-with a jolly chortle, but was quick to add, unsmiling, “How ’bout it,
-pal—got a taste for the easy green?”
-
-The man, who now appeared to be openly angry, took another step forward.
-
-“_Listen_, mister ...” he began in a threatening tone, half clenching
-his fists.
-
-“I think I should warn you,” said Grand quietly, raising one hand to
-his breast, “that I am armed.”
-
-“_Huh?_” The man seemed momentarily dumfounded, staring down in dull
-rage at the six bills in Grand’s hand; then he partially recovered, and
-cocking his head to one side, regarded Grand narrowly, in an attempt at
-shrewd skepticism, still heavily flavored with indignation.
-
-“Just who do you think you _are_, Mister! Just what is your _game_?”
-
-“Grand’s the name, easy-green’s the game,” said Guy with a twinkle.
-“Play along?” He brusquely flicked the corners of the six crisp bills,
-and they crackled with a brittle, compelling sound.
-
-“_Listen_ ...” muttered the man, tight-lipped, flexing his fingers and
-exhaling several times in angry exasperation, “... are _you_ trying ...
-are you trying to tell ME that you’ll give _six thousand dollars_ ...
-to ... to EAT that”—he pointed stiffly at the ticket in Guy’s hand—“to
-_eat_ that TICKET?!?”
-
-“That’s about the size of it,” said Grand; he glanced at his watch.
-“It’s what you might call a ‘limited offer’—expiring in, let’s say,
-_one minute_.”
-
-“Listen, mister,” said the man between clenched teeth, “if this is a
-gag, _so help me_....” He shook his head to show how serious he was.
-
-“No threats,” Guy cautioned, “or I’ll shoot you in the temple—well,
-what say? Forty-eight seconds remaining.”
-
-“Let’s _see_ that goddamn money!” exclaimed the man, quite beside
-himself now, grabbing at the bills.
-
-Grand allowed him to examine them as he continued to regard his watch.
-“Thirty-nine seconds remaining,” he announced solemnly. “Shall I start
-the _big count down_?”
-
-Without waiting for the latter’s reply, he stepped back and,
-cupping his hands like a megaphone, began dramatically intoning,
-“_Twenty-eight_ ... _twenty-seven_ ... _twenty-six_ ...” while the man
-made several wildly gesticulated and incoherent remarks before seizing
-the ticket, ripping off a quarter of it with his teeth and beginning to
-chew, eyes blazing.
-
-“_Stout fellow!_” cried Grand warmly, breaking off the count down to
-step forward and give the chap a hearty clap on the shoulder and hand
-him the six thousand.
-
-“You needn’t actually eat the ticket,” he explained. “I was just
-curious to see if you had your price.” He gave a wink and a tolerant
-chuckle. “Most of us have, I suppose. Eh? Ho-ho.”
-
-And with a grand wave of his hand, he stepped inside his car and sped
-away, leaving the man in the dark summer suit standing on the sidewalk
-staring after him, fairly agog.
-
-
-
-
- III
-
-
-Grand drove leisurely up the East River Drive—to a large and fine old
-house in the Sixties, where he lived with his two elderly aunts, Agnes
-and Esther Edwards.
-
-He found them in the drawing room when he arrived.
-
-“There you are, Guy!” said Agnes Edwards with tart affection, who at
-eighty-six was a year senior to Esther and held the initiative in most
-things between them.
-
-“Guy, Guy, Guy,” exclaimed Esther happily in her turn, with a really
-beautiful pink smile for him—but she insisted then upon raising her
-teacup, so that all to be seen now was her brow, softly clouded, as
-ever, in maternal concern for the boy. Both women were terribly,
-chronically, troubled that Guy, at fifty-three, was unmarried—though
-perhaps each, in her way, would have fought against it.
-
-Guy beamed at them from the doorway, then crossed to kiss both before
-going to his big sofa-chair by the window where he always sat.
-
-“We’re just having tea, darling—do!” insisted his Aunt Agnes with
-brittle passion, flourishing her little silver service bell in a smart
-tinkle and presenting her half-upturned face for his kiss—as though to
-receive it perfunctorily, but with eyelids closed and tremoring, one
-noticed, and a second very thin hand which, as in reflex, started to
-rise towards their faces, wavering up, clenched white as the lace at
-her wrists.
-
-“Guy, Guy, Guy,” cried Esther again, sharpening her own gaiety as she
-set her cup down—quickly enough, but with a care that gave her away.
-
-“You will take tea, won’t you, my Guy!” said Agnes, and she conveyed it
-in a glance to the maid who’d appeared.
-
-“Love some,” said Guy Grand, giving his aunts such a smile of fanatic
-brightness that they both squirmed a bit. He was in good spirits now
-after his trip—but soon enough, as the women could well attest, he
-would fall away from them, lapse into mystery behind his great gray
-_Financial Times_ and _Wall Street Journal_ for hours on end: distrait,
-they thought; never speaking, certainly; answering, yes—but most often
-in an odd and distant tone that told them nothing, nothing.
-
- * * * * *
-
-“Guy ...” Agnes Edwards began, turning her cup in her hand and forcing
-one of the warm playful frowns used by the extremely rich to show the
-degree of seriousness felt.
-
-“Yes, Aunt Agnes,” said Guy unnecessarily, even brightly, actually
-coming forward a bit on his chair, not turning his own cup, but
-fingering it, politely nervous.
-
-“Guy ... you _know_ Clemence’s young man. Well, I _think_ they want
-to get _married_! and ... oh I don’t know, I was just wondering if we
-couldn’t _help_. Naturally, I haven’t said a thing to her about it—I
-wouldn’t dare, of course ... but then what’s _your_ feeling on it, Guy?
-Surely there’s something we can do, don’t you agree?”
-
-Guy Grand could have no notion what she was talking about, except that
-it was undoubtedly a question of money; but he spoke darkly enough to
-suggest that he was weighing his words with care.
-
-“Why I should think so, yes.”
-
-Agnes Edwards beamed and raised her cup in a gesture both coy and smug,
-then the two women glanced at each other, smiling prettily, almost
-lifting their brows—whatever it was, it was a certain gain all around.
-
- * * * * *
-
-Grand’s own idea of what he was doing—“making it hot for people”—had
-formed crudely, literally, and almost as an afterthought, when, early
-one summer morning in 1938, just about the time the Spanish Civil War
-was ending, he flew out to Chicago and, within an hour of arrival,
-purchased a property on one of the busiest corners of the Loop. He had
-the modern two-story structure torn down and the debris cleared off
-that day—that very morning, in fact—by a demolition crew of fifty men
-and machines; and then he directed the six carpenters, who had been on
-stand-by since early morning, when they had thrown up a plank barrier
-at the sidewalk, to construct the wooden forms for a concrete vat
-of the following proportions: fifteen feet square, five feet deep.
-This construction was done in an hour and a half, and it seemed that
-the work, except for pouring the concrete, was ended; in fact the
-carpenters had put on their street clothes and were ready to leave
-when, after a moment of reflection, Grand assembled them with a smart
-order to take down this present structure, and to rebuild it, but on
-a two-foot elevation—giving clearance beneath, as he explained to the
-foreman, to allow for the installation of a heating apparatus there.
-
-“_That’ll make it hot for them_,” he said—but he wasn’t speaking to the
-foreman then, nor apparently to anyone else.
-
-It was mid-afternoon, and collecting from the flux of the swollen
-summer street were the spectators, who hung in bunches at the sturdy
-barrier, gatherings in constant change, impressed in turn by the way
-the great man from the East snapped his commands, expensively dressed
-as he was, shirt turned back at the cuff.
-
-And when the work was going ahead correctly, Grand might give the crowd
-a moment of surveillance from where he stood in the center of the lot,
-finally addressing them, hands cupped to his mouth as if he had to
-shout—though, actually, they were only a few yards away.
-
-“_Tomorrow_ ...” he would say, “... _back ... tomorrow! Now ... getting
-... it ... ready!_”
-
-When an occasional wiseacre could get his attention and attempt some
-joke as to what was going on there beyond the barrier, Grand Guy Grand
-would smile wearily and shake a scolding finger at him.
-
-“_Now ... getting ... it ... ready_,” he would shout slowly, or
-something else equally irrelevant to the wiseacre’s jibe; but no one
-took offense, either because of not understanding or else because of
-the dignity and bearing of the man, and the big diamond he wore at his
-throat.
-
-Another contractor, three workers, a truck of sand and gravel, and
-six sacks of quick-drying cement arrived at the working site at two
-o’clock, but were forced to wait until the new forms were complete.
-Then a sheet of metal was lowered into place and the concrete was
-poured into the forms. Under Grand’s spirited command, it was all so
-speedily done that well before dusk the work was ended, including the
-installation of a great gas burner there, star-shaped with a thousand
-dark jets, like a giant upturned squid stretched beneath the structure.
-It was apparent now that when the board forms were removed, the whole
-would resemble a kind of white stone bath, set on four short columns,
-with a heating apparatus beneath, and small ramps leading up the vat on
-each of its sides.
-
-Before dinner Guy Grand completed arrangements begun earlier in the
-day with the Chicago stockyards: these provided for the delivery of
-three hundred cubic feet of manure, a hundred gallons of urine, and
-fifty gallons of blood, to an address in the suburbs. Grand met them
-there and had the whole stinking mess transferred to a covered dump
-truck he had purchased that morning. These arrangements cost Grand a
-pretty penny, because the stockyards do not ordinarily conserve or sell
-urine, so that it had to be specially collected.
-
-After securing the truck’s cover, Grand climbed into the cab, drove
-back towards the stockyards and parked the truck there, where the
-stench of it would be less noticeable.
-
-Then he took a taxi into town, to the near North Side and had a quiet
-dinner at the Drake.
-
-At nine o’clock, while it was still light, he returned to the working
-site, where he was met by some of the crew, and saw to the removal
-of the board forms and the barrier. He inspected the vat, and the
-burner below—which he tested and found in good working order. Then he
-dismissed the crew and went back to his hotel.
-
-He sat at his desk writing business letters until his thin gold
-wrist-clock sounded three A.M. Exactly then he put away his writing
-things, freshened himself up, and, just before leaving the room,
-paused near the door and collected a big leather brief case, a gas
-mask, a wooden paddle, a bucket of black paint, and an old, stiff
-paintbrush. He went downstairs and took a cab out to the place where
-he had parked the dump truck. Leaving the cab, he got into the truck
-and drove back to the working site. There he backed the truck carefully
-up one of the ramps and then emptied all that muck into the vat. The
-stench was nearly overpowering, and Grand, as soon as he had parked
-the truck and gotten out of it, was quick to don the gas mask he had
-brought.
-
-Stepping up one of the ramps, he squatted on the parapet of the vat and
-opened the brief case, out of which he began taking, a handful at a
-time, and dropping into the vat, ten thousand one-hundred-dollar bills,
-slowly stirring them in with his wooden paddle.
-
-And he was in this attitude, squatting at the edge of the vat, gas mask
-covering his face, stirring with his paddle and dumping bills into
-the muck, the work only half begun, when a passing police patrol car
-pulled up to investigate the activity and, above all, the stench. But
-before the officers could properly take account, Grand had closed the
-brief case, doffed his mask, given them five thousand dollars each, and
-demanded to be taken at once to their precinct captain. After a few
-hushed words between them, and a shrugging of shoulders, they agreed.
-
-At the station, Grand spoke privately with the captain, showing him
-several business cards and explaining that it was all a harmless
-promotion stunt for a new product.
-
-“Naturally my firm is eager to coöperate with the authorities,” he
-said, and handed the captain twenty-five thousand.
-
-And so it was finally agreed that Grand might return to the site and
-proceed, as long as whatever he was doing did not involve criminal
-violence within the precinct. Moreover, while the captain could make no
-definite promise about it, he was attentive enough to Grand’s proposal
-of an additional fifty thousand on the following noon if the police
-would be kept away from the site for a few hours that morning.
-
-“Think it over,” said Grand pleasantly. “Better sleep on it, eh?”
-
-Back at the site, Grand Guy donned his mask again, and dumped the
-remaining contents of the brief case into the vat. Then he stepped
-down, opened the can of paint, gave it good stirring, and finally,
-using his left hand so that what resulted looked childish or
-illiterate, he scrawled across the vat FREE $ HERE in big black letters
-on the sides facing the street.
-
-He climbed up for a final check on the work. Of the bills in the muck,
-the corners, edges, and denomination figures of about five hundred
-were visible. After a moment he stepped down and, half crouching
-beneath the vat, took off his mask and saw to his burners. He did a
-short terse count down and turned the valve full open; then he removed
-the handle so that it could not easily be interfered with. As he
-touched off the match, the thousand flames sprang up, all blue light,
-and broke back doubling on the metal plate, and on the wet concrete—a
-color of sand in summer moonlight: one of those chosen instants, lost
-to childhood, damp places in reflection, surface of cement under
-the earth, the beautifully cool buried places ... the stench became
-unbearable; he stood and quickly donned his mask, turned away from the
-site and walked across the street where he paused at the corner and
-surveyed the whole. Already in the pale eastern light, the moronic
-scrawl, FREE $ HERE, loomed with convincing force, while below the
-thousand flames beat up, blue-white and strangely urgent for this hour
-of morning on a downtown corner of Chicago.
-
-“Say ...” mused Grand, half-aloud, “_that’ll_ make it hot for them all
-right!” And he leaped into the big dump truck and drove like the wind
-back to his hotel. At dawn he caught the plane for New York.
-
-The commotion that occurred a few hours later on that busy corner of
-the Loop in downtown Chicago was the first and, in a sense perhaps,
-the most deliberately literal of such projects eventually to be
-linked with the name of “Grand Guy” Guy Grand, provoking the wrath
-of the public press against him, and finally earning him the label,
-“Eccentric” and again towards the end, “Crackpot.”
-
-
-
-
- IV
-
-
-“Is Clemence a person?” asked Guy, taking a bit of sweet biscuit now,
-popping it into his mouth.
-
-Aunt Esther raised her hand to conceal a shaming twitter, and Aunt
-Agnes feigned impatience.
-
-“Guy, great silly!” said Agnes. “Really!” Though after a moment she
-softened, to continue:
-
-“Clemence is the new _maid_! She’s a Catholic girl, Guy—_and_ a very
-nice one, if I may say so. She’s marrying this Jewish boy, Sol—how
-they’ll manage I’m sure I don’t know—I talked to them both, I told them
-that we were Protestants, had always been Protestants, and always
-_would_ be Protestants—but that I didn’t mind! Not in the least!
-‘Freedom of worship and creed!’ I said. It’s always been a principle
-of _my_ religion. Not so insistent and pushy as _some_ I could name!
-I didn’t tell them _that_, of course, but there you are. Well, _she_
-wants a honeymoon in _Italy_, and a visit to the Pope, which I think
-is terribly sweet—and _he_ wants to go to _his_ place in the East,
-wherever it is; Israel, isn’t it? Oh, I don’t say it badly. They’re
-_very_ nice, Guy—both of them as gentle and polite as you please, and
-... well, they’ve enough money for _one_ of the trips, you see, but
-_not_ for both. I wish we could help them, Guy. I think it would be
-nice if they could go to _both_ of their places, don’t you agree? You
-remember how much I enjoyed Calvin’s chair in Geneva! Of course it
-isn’t the same, but it _would_ be sweet. What’s your feeling on it,
-Guy?”
-
-“But Guy has always been _eager_ to help in such matters,” Esther broke
-in warmly.
-
-“Thank you, Aunt Esther,” said Guy with soft humility, “I do like to
-think that the record speaks for itself.”
-
- * * * * *
-
-Guy Grand had owned a newspaper for a while—one of Boston’s popular
-dailies, with a circulation of 900,000. When Grand assumed control,
-there was, at first, no change in the paper’s format, nor in its
-apparently high journalistic standards, as Grand stayed on in New York
-on the periphery of the paper’s operations, where he would remain, he
-said, until he “could get the feel of things.”
-
-During the second month, however, French words began to crop up
-unaccountably in news of local interest:
-
- Boston, Mar. 27 (AP)—Howard Jones, vingt-huit ans, convicted on
- three counts of larceny here, was sentenced this morning to 20–26
- months in Folsom State Prison, Judge Grath of 17th Circuit Court of
- Appeals announced aujourd’hui.
-
-Working then through a succession of editors, proofreaders, and
-linotype operators, Grand gradually put forward the policy of
-misspelling the names of cities, islands, and proper nouns in
-general—or else having them appear in a foreign language:
-
- YANKS HIT PARIGI
- MOP-UP AT TERWEEWEE
-
-During the war, when geographic names were given daily prominence in
-the headlines, these distortions served to antagonize the reader and
-to obscure the facts.
-
-The circulation of the paper fell off sharply, and after three months
-it was down to something less than one-twentieth of what it had
-been when Grand took over. At this point a major policy change was
-announced. Henceforth the newspaper would not carry comics, editorials,
-feature stories, reviews, or advertising, and would present only the
-factual news in a straightforward manner. It was called _The Facts_,
-and Grand spent the ransom of a dozen queens in getting at the facts of
-the news, or at least a great many of them, which he had printed then
-in simple sentences. The issues of the first two days or so enjoyed a
-fair sale, but the contents on the whole appeared to be so incredible
-or so irrelevant that by the end of the week demand was lower than at
-any previous phase of the paper’s existence. During the third week,
-the paper had no sale at all to speak of, and was simply given away;
-or, refused by the distributors, it was left in stacks on the street
-corners each morning, about two million copies a day. In the beginning
-people were amused by the sight of so many newspapers lying around
-unread; but when it continued, they became annoyed. Something funny
-was going on—_Communist? Atheist? Homosexual? Catholic? Monopoly?
-Corruption? Protestant? Insane? Negro? Jewish? Puerto Rican? POETRY?_
-The city was filthy. It was easy for people to talk about _The Facts_
-in terms of litter and debris. Speeches were made, letters written,
-yet the issue was vague. The editor of _The Facts_ received insulting
-letters by the bagful. Grand sat tight for a week, then he gave the
-paper over exclusively to printing these letters; and its name was
-changed again—_Opinions_.
-
-These printed letters reflected such angry divergence of thought and
-belief that what resulted was sharp dissension throughout the city.
-Group antagonism ran high. The paper was widely read and there were
-incidents of violence. Movements began.
-
- * * * * *
-
-At about two P.M. on June 7th, crowds started to gather in Lexington
-Square near the center of the city. The _Jewish_, _Atheist_, _Negro_,
-_Labor_, _Homosexual_, and _Intellectual_ groups were on one side—the
-_Protestant_ and _American Legion_ on the other. The balance of power,
-or so it seemed, lay with the doughty _Catholic_ group.
-
-It was fair and windless that day in Boston, and while the groups
-and the groups-within-groups bickered and jockeyed in the center of
-Lexington Square, Guy Grand brought off a _tour de force_. Hovering
-just overhead, in a radio-equipped helicopter, he directed the maneuver
-of a six-plane squadron of skywriters, much higher, in spelling out the
-mile-long smoke-letter words: F**K YOU ... and this was immediately
-followed by a veritable host of outlandish epithets, formulated as
-insults on the level of group Gestalt: Protestants are assholes ...
-Jews are full of crap ... Catholics are shitty ... and so on, _ad
-nauseum_ actually.
-
-It set the crowd below hopping mad. Grand Guy Grand dropped to about
-a hundred feet, where he canted the plane towards them and opened the
-door to peer out and observe. The crowd, associating the low-flying
-helicopter with the outrageous skywriting going on above, started
-shouting obscenities and shaking their fists.
-
-“You rotten Mick!”
-
-“You dirty Yid!”
-
-“You black bastard!”
-
-That was how the fighting began.
-
-During the Lexington Square Riots, Grand set his plane down to
-twenty-five feet, where he cruised around, leaning out the door,
-expressionless, shouting in loud, slow intonation:
-
-“WHAT’S ... UP? WHAT’S ... UP?”
-
- * * * * *
-
-By four o’clock the square was in shambles and all Boston on the brink
-of eruption. The National Guard had to be brought into the city and
-martial law obtained. It was thirty-six hours before order was fully
-restored.
-
-The press made capital of the affair. Investigations were demanded. Guy
-Grand had paid off some big men in order to carry forward the project,
-but this was more than they had bargained for. Back in New York it cost
-him two million to keep clear.
-
-
-
-
- V
-
-
-“Yes, I see,” said Guy, clearing his throat, looking with concern at
-the piece of sweet biscuit in his hand, “... certainly. Why don’t you
-... well, you know, find out how much they need, make out a check,
-and....”
-
-Aunt Esther covertly twittered again, her eyes bright above the very
-white hand that hid her mouth, and Agnes turned her own face sharply
-away in mock exasperation with the boy.
-
-“Not _give_ them the money, Guy!” Agnes exclaimed. “They wouldn’t
-_hear_ of it, of course—the young man, _Sol_, especially. Surely you
-know how _proud_ those people are ... a defensive-mechanism, I suppose;
-but there you are, even so! _No_—what I had in mind was to tell them of
-a _stock_ to buy, you see.”
-
-“Right,” said Guy crisply, “then they would take one of the trips
-later, that the idea? But, hold on—if they spend all their money on the
-one trip, how can they buy into the stock in question?”
-
-“Guy!” said his aunt in a voice of ice and pain.
-
-“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” said Grand with perfect candor.
-
-Aunt Esther took refuge behind her kerchief, into her ceaseless
-giggling.
-
-“_I mean make it go up and down!_” cried Agnes crossly. “Or rather
-_down_ first, then _up_.”
-
-She regarded him narrowly for a moment, her thinness stretching upwards
-like an angry swan, suspecting perhaps that he was being deliberately
-obtuse.
-
-“A perfect babe in the woods!” she said. “How you manage to hold your
-own at conference table I’m sure I couldn’t imagine!”
-
-“Sorry,” said Grand, unsmiling, following through with the youthful
-gesture of slightly ducking his head for a sip of tea.
-
-Of course it was all largely an act between them.
-
-“Name one good stock in which you hold ten thousand shares,” said Agnes
-sharply.
-
-“One good stock ...” repeated Guy Grand, his great brow clouding.
-
-“... that begins with an ‘A’,” said Aunt Esther.
-
-“That begins with an ‘A’?” said Grand, almost incredulous, yet as
-willing as a good-natured child at play.
-
-“Esther!” cried Agnes.
-
-“Well, do you mean _exactly_ ten thousand, or _at least_ ten thousand?”
-asked Guy.
-
-“At least ten thousand,” said Agnes. “And it _needn’t_,” she added,
-with a straight look to her sister, “begin with an ‘A’!”
-
-“Hmm. Well, how about ‘Abercrombie and Adams’?” said Grand tentatively,
-“there’s a fairly sound—”
-
-“Good,” said Aunt Agnes. “Now then, what if you sold all your shares of
-that? What would happen to the price of it?”
-
-“Take a nasty drop,” said Grand, with a scowl at the thought of it.
-“Might cause a run.”
-
-“There you are then!” cried Agnes. “And Clemence’s young man
-_buys_—when the price is down, _he buys_, you see—then the _next_ day,
-you buy back what you sold! I should think it would go up again when
-you buy back what you sold, wouldn’t it?”
-
-“Might and might not,” said Grand, somewhat coldly.
-
-“_Well_,” said Agnes, with a terrible hauteur, “you can just _keep_
-buying until it does!” Then she continued, in softer tones, to show her
-ultimate reasonableness: “Surely you can, Guy. And then, you see, when
-it’s up again, Clemence and her young man will _sell_.”
-
-“Yes,” said Grand with a certain quiet dignity, “but you know, it
-might not look good, that sort of thing, with the Federal Securities
-Commission.”
-
-Agnes’s lips were so closely compressed now that they resembled a
-turtle’s mouth.
-
-“Might not _look_,” she repeated, making it hollow, her eyes widening
-as though she had lifted a desert rock and seen what was beneath
-it. “_Well_,” she said with unnerving softness, taking a sip of
-tea to brace herself and even turning to draw on her sister with
-a look of dark significance, “... if all you’re concerned with is
-_appearance_—then perhaps you aren’t the person I thought you were,
-after all.” And she poured herself another cup.
-
-Grand was stricken with a mild fit of coughing. “Yes,” he was able to
-say at last, “... yes, I see your point, of course. Does bear some
-thinking through though, I must say.”
-
-His aunt, momentarily aghast, had just started to speak again, when
-the maid stepped inside the door to announce the arrival of Miss Ginger
-Horton—an extremely fat lady, who entered the room then, wearing an
-immense trapeze sunsuit and carrying her Pekinese.
-
-“_Guy!_” she cried, extending her hand, as he, rising, came forward.
-“How _too_ good to see you!
-
-“Say hello to _Guy_, my Bitsy!” she shrieked gaily to the dog, pointing
-him at Guy and the others. “Say hello to everybody! There’s Agnes and
-Esther, _see_ them, Bitsy?”
-
-The dog yapped crossly instead, and ran at the nose.
-
-“_Is_ Bitsy-witsy sicky?” cooed Miss Horton, pouting now as she
-allowed Guy to slowly escort her towards a chair near the others, he
-maneuvering her across the room like a gigantic river scow. “Hmm? Is my
-Bitsy sicky-wicky?”
-
-“Nothing too serious, I hope,” said Grand with a solicitous frown.
-
-“Just nerves I expect,” said Miss Horton, haughty now, and fairly
-snapping. “The weather is just so ... _really abominable_, and then all
-the nasty little people about.... Now here’s your Agnes and Esther,
-Bitsy.”
-
-“How very nice to see you, my dear,” said the two elderly women, each
-laying thin fingers on her enormous hand. “What an adorable little
-sunsuit! It _was_ kind of you to bring your Bitsy—wasn’t it, Guy?”
-
-“It was extremely kind,” said Guy, beaming as he retreated to his own
-great chair near the window.
-
- * * * * *
-
-It was, as a matter of fact, Guy Grand who, working through his
-attorneys, had bought controlling interest in the three largest
-kennel clubs on the eastern seaboard last season; and in this way he
-had gained virtual dominance over, and responsibility for, the Dog
-Show that year at Madison Square Garden. His number-one _gérant_, or
-front man, for this operation was a Señor Hernandez Gonzales, a huge
-Mexican, who had long been known in dog-fancier circles as a breeder of
-blue-ribbon Chihuahuas. With Grand’s backing however, and over a quick
-six months, Gonzales became the celebrated owner of one of the finest
-kennels in the world, known now not simply for Chihuahuas, but for
-Pekinese, Pomeranians and many rare and strange breeds of the Orient.
-
-It was evident that this season’s show at the Garden was to be a gala
-one—a wealth of new honors had been posted, the prize-money packets
-substantially fattened, and competition was keener than ever. Bright
-young men and wealthy dowagers from all over were bringing forward
-their best and favorite pedigrees. Gonzales himself had promised a
-prize specimen of a fine old breed. A national picture magazine devoted
-its cover to the affair and a lengthy editorial in praise of this great
-American benignity, this love of animals—“... in bright and telling
-contrast,” the editorial said, “to certain naïve barbarities, _e.g._,
-the Spanish bullfight.”
-
-Thus, when the day arrived, all was as it should be. The Garden was
-festively decked, the spectators in holiday reverence, the lights
-burning, the big cameras booming, and the participants dressed as for a
-Papal audience—though slightly ambivalent, between not wishing to get
-mussed or hairy, and yet wanting to pamper and coo over their animals.
-
-Except for the notable absence of Señor Gonzales, things went smoothly,
-until the final competition began, that between “Best of Breed” for
-the coveted “Best in Show.” And at this point, Gonzales did appear; he
-joined the throng of owners and beasts who mingled in the center of the
-Garden, where it was soon apparent his boast had not been idle—at the
-end of the big man’s leash was an extraordinary dog; he was jet-black
-and almost the size of a full-grown Dane, with the most striking coat
-and carriage yet seen at the Garden show that season. The head was
-dressed somewhat in the manner of a circus-cut poodle, though much
-exaggerated, so that half the face of the animal was truly obscured.
-
-Gonzales joined the crowd with a jaunty smile and flourish not
-inappropriate to one of his eminence. He hadn’t been there a moment
-though before he and the dog were spotted by Mrs. Winthrop-Garde and
-her angry little spitz.
-
-She came forward, herself not too unlike her charge, waddling
-aggressively, and she was immediately followed by several other women
-of similar stamp, along with Pekineses, Pomeranians, and ill-tempered
-miniature chows.
-
-Gonzales bowed with winning old-world grace and caressed the ladies’
-hands.
-
-“What a _perfect_ love he is!” shrieked Mrs. Winthrop-Garde of the
-animal on Gonzales’s leash, and turning to her own, “_Isn’t_ he, my
-darling? _Hmm? Hmm?_ Isn’t he, my precious sweet? And what_ever_ is his
-_name_?” she cried to Gonzales when her own animal failed to respond,
-but yapped crossly instead.
-
-“He is called ... _Claw_,” said Gonzales with a certain soft drama
-which may have escaped Mrs. Winthrop-Garde, for she rushed on, heedless
-as ever.
-
-“_Claude!_ It’s _too_ delicious—the perfect darling! Say _hello_ to
-Claude, Angelica! Say _hello_ to Claude, my fur-flower!”
-
-And as she pulled the angry little spitz forward, while it snapped
-and snorted and ran at the nose, an extraordinary thing happened—for
-what this Grand and Gonzales had somehow contrived, and for reasons
-never fathomed by the press, was to introduce in disguise to the Garden
-show that season not a dog at all, but some kind of terrible black
-panther or dyed jaguar—hungry he was too, and cross as a pickle—so that
-before the day was out, he had not only brought chaos into the formal
-proceedings, but had actually destroyed about half the “Best of Breed.”
-
-During the first hour or so, Gonzales, because of his respected
-position in that circle, was above reproach, and all of the incidents
-were considered as being accidental, though, of course, extremely
-unfortunate.
-
-“Too much spirit,” he kept explaining, frowning and shaking his head;
-and, as he and the beast stalked slowly about in the midst of the
-group, he would chide the monster-cat:
-
-“Overtired from the trip, I suppose. Isn’t that it, boy? _Hmm? Hmm?_”
-
-So now occasionally above the yapping and whining, the crowd would hear
-a strange _swish!_ and _swat!_ as Gonzales and the fantastic beast
-moved on, flushing them one by one.
-
-Finally one woman, new to the circle, who did not know how important
-Gonzales was, came back with an automatic pistol and tried to shoot the
-big cat. But she was so beside herself with righteous fury that she
-missed and was swiftly arrested.
-
-Gonzales, though, apparently no fool himself, was quick to take this as
-a cue that his work was done, and he gradually retired, so that “Best
-in Show” was settled at last, between those not already eliminated.
-
-Grand later penned a series of scathing articles about the affair:
-“Scandal of the Dog Show!” “Can This Happen Here?” “Is It Someone’s
-Idea of a Joke?” etc., etc.
-
-The bereft owners were wealthy and influential people, more than
-eager to go along with the demand for an inquiry. As quickly as
-witnesses were uncovered, however, they were bought off by Grand or
-his representatives, so that nothing really ever came of it in the
-end—though, granted, it did cost him a good bit to keep his own name
-clear.
-
-
-
-
- VI
-
-
-“And how was your _trip_, Guy?” asked Ginger Horton, sniffing a bit,
-just to be on the safe side it seemed.
-
-Guy shrugged.
-
-“Oh, same old six-and-seven, Ginger,” he said.
-
-“I beg your pardon,” interjected his Aunt Agnes smartly.
-
-Esther beamed, truly in league at last with her long-dead favorite
-sister’s only son.
-
-“It means _not too good_, Agnes,” she said emphatically. “It’s an
-expression used in dice-playing: You ‘come out’—isn’t that right,
-Guy?—on ‘six,’ your _point_, then you throw, in this case, a
-‘_seven_,’ which means: _no good_, _you_ lose.” She looked to her Guy.
-“That’s it, isn’t it, dear?”
-
-“Oh, it’s a _gambling_ expression,” said Agnes Edwards with a certain
-amused complacency, though she must have raised her cup rather too
-hurriedly, for Esther was content merely to beam at Guy.
-
-“Then your trip wasn’t ... _too good_, is that it?” asked Ginger Horton
-seriously, setting her own cup down squarely, pressing the napkin
-briefly to her lips.
-
-Esther started to answer, but in the end looked to Guy instead.
-
-“Oh, it’s just a manner of speaking,” said Guy Grand easily. “What
-really gives the expression bite, of course, is that _six_ is generally
-an easy point to make, you see, and, well ... but then the fact is
-really, that the ... uh, the _national economy_, so to speak, isn’t
-in the best of shape just now. Not a buyer’s market at all really. A
-bit bearish as a matter of fact.” He gave a chuckle, looking at the
-Pekinese.
-
-Ginger Horton seized the opportunity to bring the dog into it.
-
-“Well, it’s all over _our_ head, isn’t it, Bitsy? Hmm? Isn’t it over
-your Bitsy-witsy head? Hmmm?”
-
-“_Bearish_ ...” Esther began to explain.
-
-“I think we all know what _that_ means, Esther,” said Agnes shortly,
-raising one hand to her throat, her old eyes glittering no less than
-the great diamonds she clutched there.
-
- * * * * *
-
-Evidently Grand liked playing the donkey-man. In any case, he had
-bought himself a large motion-picture house in Philadelphia. The house
-had been losing money badly for six months, so it was natural that the
-manager and his staff, who knew nothing of Grand’s background, should
-be apprehensive over the probable shake-up.
-
-The manager was a shrewd and capable man of many years’ experience
-in cinema management, a man whose position represented for him the
-fruit of a life’s work. He decided that his best move, under the
-circumstances, would be to go to Grand and cheerfully recommend salary
-cuts for all.
-
-During their first conference, however, it was Grand, in his right as
-new owner, who held the initiative throughout.
-
-By way of preliminary, and while the manager sat alertly on the edge of
-a big leather chair, Grand paced the floor of the comfortable office,
-his hands clasped at his back, and a slight frown on his face. Finally
-he stopped in the center of the room and addressed the manager:
-
-“The _Chinese_ have an expression, Mr. ... _Mister Manager_. I believe
-it occurs in the book of the _I Ching_: “Put your house in order,” they
-say, “_that_ is the first step.””
-
-This brought a flush to the manager’s face and caused him to shift in
-his chair.
-
-“My dad,” said Grand then, and with severe reverence, “pushed out here
-in ... 1920. There were few frontiers open for him at that time. There
-are fewer still ... open-for-us-today!”
-
-He faced the manager and would have let him speak; in fact, by looking
-straight into his face, he invited him to do so, but the man could only
-nod in sage agreement.
-
-“If there is one unexplored territory,” Grand continued, waxing
-expansive now, “one virgin wood alive today in this man’s land of
-ours—it is cinema management! My dad—“Dad Grand”—was a championship
-golfer. That _may_ be why ... now this is only a guess ... but that
-_may_ be why he always favored the maxim: ‘If you want them to play
-your course—don’t put rocks on the green!’”
-
-Grand paused for a minute, staring down at the manager’s sparkling
-shoes as he allowed his great brow to furrow and his lips to purse,
-frantically pensive. Then he shot a question:
-
-“Do you know the story of the Majestic Theatre in Kansas City?”
-
-The manager, a man with thirty years’ experience in the field, who knew
-the story of every theatre in the country, did not know this one.
-
-“In August, 1939, the management of the K.C. Majestic changed hands,
-_and_ policy. Weston seats were installed—four inches wider than
-standard—and ‘a.p.’s,’ admission prices, were cut in half ... and two
-people were to occupy each seat. The new manager, Jason Frank, who died
-of a brain hemorrhage later the same year, had advanced Wyler Publicity
-nine hundred dollars for the catch-phrase, ‘Half the Price, and a
-Chance for Vice,’ which received a wide private circulation.”
-
-Grand broke off his narrative to give the manager a searching look
-before continuing:
-
-“... _but_ it didn’t work, sir! It _did not_ work ... and I’ll tell you
-why: it was a _crackpot_ scheme. A crackpot scheme, and rocks on the
-green! It cost Frank his licence, his health, and in this case perhaps
-his very life.”
-
-Grand paused for effect and crossed to the desk where he took up a
-sheaf of onionskin papers and threshed them about before the manager.
-Each sheet was black with figures.
-
-“According to my figures,” he said tersely, “this house will fold in
-nine months’ time unless there is, at minimum, an eight percent climb
-in ‘p.a.’s’—paid admissions.” Here he frowned darkly, let it pass,
-forced a smile, and then flapped his arms a time or two, as he resumed
-speaking, in a much lighter tone now:
-
-“Of course there are a number of ... of _possibilities_ for us here
-... I have certain plans ... oh granted they’re tentative, under wrap,
-irons in the fire, if you like—but I _can_ tell you _this_: I am
-retaining you and your staff. We are not ploughing the green under.
-Do you follow? Right. Now I have arranged for this increase in your
-salaries: ten percent. I won’t say it is a _substantial_ increase; I
-say simply: _ten percent_ ... which means, of course, that all ...
-_all these figures_”—he waved the sheaf of papers in a gesture of
-hopelessness and then dropped them into the wastebasket—“will have to
-be _revised_! More time lost before we know where we stand! Yet that
-can’t be helped. It _is_ a move—and _I_ say it is a move ... in the
-right direction!”
-
-He spoke to the manager for an hour, thinking aloud, getting the feel
-of things, keeping his hand in, and so on. Then he dismissed him for
-three months’ paid vacation.
-
-Grand’s theatre was one of the city’s largest and had first-run
-rights on the most publicized films. In the manager’s absence, things
-proceeded normally for a while; until one night when the house was
-packed for the opening of the smart new musical, _Main Street, U.S.A._
-
-First there was an annoying half-hour delay while extra camp-stool
-seats were sold and set up in the aisles; then, when the house lights
-finally dimmed into blackness, and the audience settled back to enjoy
-the musical, Grand gave them something they weren’t expecting: a cheap
-foreign film.
-
-The moment the film began, people started leaving. In the darkness,
-however, with seats two-abreast choking the aisles, most of them were
-forced back. So the film rolled on; and while the minutes gathered into
-quarter-hours, and each quarter-hour cut cripplingly deep into the
-evening, Grand, locked in the projection room high above, stumbled from
-wall to wall, choking with laughter.
-
-After forty-five minutes, the film was taken off and it was announced
-over the public-address system, and at a volume strength never before
-used anywhere, that a mistake had been made, that this was _not_ the
-new musical.
-
-Shouts of “_And how!_” came from the crowd, and “_I’ll say it’s not!_”
-and “_You’re telling me! God!_”
-
-Then after another delay for rewinding, the cheap foreign film was put
-on again, upside down.
-
-By ten thirty the house was seething towards angry panic, and Grand
-gave the order to refund the money of everyone who wished to pass by
-the box office. At eleven o’clock there was a line outside the theatre
-two blocks long.
-
-From his office above, Grand kept delaying the cashier’s work by
-phoning every few minutes to ask: “How’s it going?” or “What’s up?”
-
-The next day there was a notice on the central bulletin board:
-
-“Rocks on the green! All hands alert!”
-
-It also announced another fat pay-hike.
-
-Into certain films such as _Mrs. Miniver_, Grand made eccentric inserts.
-
-In one scene in _Mrs. Miniver_, Walter Pidgeon was sitting at evening
-in his fire-lit study and writing in his journal. He had just that
-afternoon made the acquaintance of Mrs. Miniver and was no doubt
-thinking about her now as he paused reflectively and looked towards
-the open fire. In the original version of this film, he took a small
-penknife from the desk drawer and meditatively sharpened the pencil he
-had been writing with. During this scene the camera remained on his
-_face_, which was filled with quiet reflection and modest hopefulness,
-so that the intended emphasis of the scene was quite clear: his
-genteel and wistfully ambitious thoughts about Mrs. Miniver.
-
-The insert Grand made into this film, was, like those he made
-into others, professionally done, and as such, was technically
-indiscernable. It was introduced just at the moment where Pidgeon
-opened the knife, and it was a three-second close shot of the
-fire-glint blade.
-
-This simple insert misplaced the emphasis of the scene; the fire-glint
-blade seemed to portend dire evil, and occurring as it did early in the
-story, simply “spoiled” the film.
-
-Grand would hang around the lobby after the show to overhear the
-remarks of those leaving, and often he would join in himself:
-
-“What was that part about the _knife_?” he would demand querulously,
-stalking up and down the lobby, striking his fist into his open hand,
-“... he _had_ that knife ... I thought he was going to try and _kill_
-her! Christ, I don’t _get_ it!”
-
-In some cases, Grand’s theatre had to have two copies of the film on
-hand, because his alterations were so flagrant that he did not deem it
-wise to project the altered copy twice in succession. This was the case
-with a popular film called _The Best Years of Our Lives_. This film
-was mainly concerned, in its attempt at an odd kind of realism, with a
-young veteran of war, who was an amputee and had metal hooks instead
-of hands. It was a story told quite seriously and one which depended
-for much of its drama upon a straight-faced identification with the
-amputee’s situation and attitude. Grand’s insert occurred in the middle
-of the film’s big scene. This original scene was a seven-second pan
-of the two principal characters, the amputee and his pretty home-town
-fiancée while they were sitting on the family porch swing one summer
-evening. The hero was courting her, in his quiet way—and this consisted
-of a brave smile, more or less in apology, it would seem, for having
-the metal hooks instead of hands—while the young girl’s eyes shone
-with tolerance and understanding ... a scene which was interrupted by
-Grand’s insert: a cut to below the girl’s waist where the hooks were
-seen to hover for an instant and then disappear, grappling urgently
-beneath her skirt. The duration of this cut was less than one-half
-second, but was unmistakably seen by anyone not on the brink of sleep.
-
-It brought some of the audience bolt upright. Others the scene affected
-in a sort of double-take way, reacting to it as they did only minutes
-later. The rest, that is to say about one-third of the audience, failed
-to notice it at all; and the film rolled on. No one could believe his
-eyes; those who were positive they had seen something funny in the
-realism there, sat through the film again to make certain—though,
-of course, the altered version was never run twice in succession—but
-_all_ who had seen were so obsessed by what they had seen, or what they
-imagined they had seen, that they could no longer follow the story
-line, though it was, from that point on, quite as it was intended,
-without incongruity or surprise.
-
-Grand had a good deal of trouble about his alterations of certain films
-and was eventually sued by several of the big studios. You can bet it
-cost him a pretty to keep clear in the end.
-
-
-
-
- VII
-
-
-“My Lord Russell books came today,” said Ginger Horton, suddenly
-dropping her voice to a stage whisper, because the dog in her lap
-seemed to have gone asleep.
-
-“_Pardon_,” said Grand, almost shouting.
-
-Mrs. Horton, dramatically wide-eyed now, raised a finger to her lips.
-
-“_I think Bitsy’s asleep_,” she cooed, then stole a glance at the dog.
-“Isn’t it _too_ sweet!” she said, lifting her face to the others,
-beaming angelically.
-
-“Oh, it _is_ too sweet!” agreed Agnes and Esther, craning forward to
-see, like ancient things stretching across the sand. “Guy,” hissed
-Agnes, “do come and see!”
-
-“Best not,” said Guy sagely, “might wake it.”
-
-“Guy’s right,” said Ginger Horton, compressing her lips tersely and
-cautioning the two ladies back. “Oh, how cross my Bitsy’d be. You _are_
-sweet, Guy,” she added, with a piercing smile for him—but before he
-could acknowledge it with one of his own, she let a look of great care
-return to her face.
-
-“I was _saying_ that my Lord Russell books came today.”
-
-“Lord Russell?” Guy inquired genially.
-
-“Laird K. Russell,” murmured Esther in pure wonder as some dear
-forgotten name loomed up to marvel her softly from the far far away.
-
-“_Bertrand Russell!_” exclaimed Agnes sharply, “the philosopher! Good
-heavens, Esther!”
-
-“Not Bertrand Russell,” cried Ginger Horton, “Lord Russell of
-Liverpool. The atrocity books!”
-
-“Good Heavens,” said Agnes.
-
-“Well, do you know what we did?” Ginger Horton demanded. “Bitsy and I
-sat right down and pretended that _this ... this ... Thorndike_ had
-been _captured_ and brought to justice and all those atrocities had
-been done to him! To him and to a lot of other nasty little people we
-could think of!”
-
-“Gracious,” exclaimed Agnes.
-
-“Not _Bill_ Thorndike surely?” said Grand, coming forward on his chair
-with a show of concern.
-
-“Oh, it’s just absolutely _maddening_!” said Ginger Horton. “I don’t
-even want to ... to _talk_ about it. Not in front of Bitsy, anyway.”
-
-“The dog?” said Grand. “It’s asleep, isn’t it?”
-
-“Bitsy knows, of course,” said Miss Horton darkly, ignoring this, “and
-only too well!”
-
-“Ginger,” said Agnes, “can you really be so sure of that?”
-
-“Oh, in simply a thousand-thousand ways,” said Ginger Horton.
-
-“Do you remember that young Mr. Laird K. Russell?” asked Esther of
-Agnes in the pause that followed. “He came to our Westport summer ball
-for little Nancy.”
-
-“Great Heavens, Esther, that was over sixty years ago! Surely you don’t
-mean it!”
-
-Esther nodded, her eyes dim with distant marvel, a pale smile on her
-lips.
-
-“Esther, really!”
-
-Ginger Horton sniffed, at no pains to hide her annoyance with this
-change of focus, while Agnes tried to recover the thread.
-
-“Do have more tea, Ginger—and please tell us wherever _did_ you get
-that darling little sunsuit? How perfectly clever it is!”
-
-“You _are_ sweet, Agnes,” said Ginger, brightening, yet seeming to
-imply a moment of reproach for Esther and Guy before turning her
-attention to the great pink tent of a sunsuit she was wearing.
-
-“Yes, I think it’s fun, don’t you? Of course Charles did it for me.”
-
-“Simply too adorable!” said Agnes. “Isn’t it, Guy?”
-
-“It’s extremely attractive,” said Guy in most richly masculine and
-persuasive tones, and the ladies beamed all around.
-
- * * * * *
-
-One of Guy Grand’s sayings at conference was this:
-
-“Show me the man who’s above picking up bits and pieces—and _I’ll_ show
-_you_: a fool!”
-
-Just so, Grand himself kept his finger in more than one peripheral pie.
-In 1950 he bought out Vanity Cosmetics, a large and thriving Fifth
-Avenue concern. He surprised staffers at Vanity by bringing in his own
-research chemists, from allied fields. But these staff executives, all
-old-timers themselves, were only waiting for reassurance, and it wasn’t
-long in coming when Grand spoke of fresh blood, new horizons, and
-thinking big.
-
-“You’ve got to look ahead in this man’s game,” he emphasized at first
-conference, “or by jumbo you’re up crap creek without a paddle!”
-
-Granted he spoke harshly, but in his tone was tough jaunty conviction
-and brutal know-how.
-
-“He’s all right,” said one Vanity staffer after the session. “He speaks
-his mind, and devil take the hindmost!”
-
-“Joe, he’s my kinda guy,” another was quick to agree. “... I mean what
-the hell, we’re _all_ out for money—am I right, Joe?”
-
-These regulars though, were more or less cut off from lab contact now,
-as Grand told them he wanted to “go it alone for a bit.”
-
-“_Just_ want to see how the land lies,” he said.
-
-He worked tirelessly with his new chemists, himself clad in a great
-white smock, bustling about the lab, seeing to this test and that
-result.
-
-“Back in harness!” he liked to say at conference (for it was his habit
-to go there wearing his smock), and it made the others feel a bit
-inadequate—spic and span as they were in their smart tweeds and clergy
-gray—while the new chief sat stained and pungent from the lab.
-
-“You civies have a soft touch here,” Grand would tweak them—though of
-course they were only too eager now to go to the lab themselves.
-
-“You know I wouldn’t mind a crack at the lab,” one of the senior exec’s
-would say with serious mien if he could get Grand aside.
-
-“Yes, I’ll just bet you wouldn’t,” Grand would reply with a glittering
-smile, “and how about a handful of these while you’re at it?” and he
-would flash a fat roll of ten thousands that he could just get into the
-catch-all pocket of his big white smock.
-
-Though the exec might suspect that Grand was speaking symbolically, the
-gambit was always impressive.
-
-“_Yes, sir_,” would be the earnest reply, “I really _would_ like a
-crack at the lab!”
-
-But Grand would grimace oddly and wave a finger at the senior staffer;
-then he would give a thin cackling laugh and fly to his flasks and
-beakers.
-
-“The old boy’s sharp as a razor,” most of them said. “He’s my kinda
-guy.”
-
-What happened in the end was the development of a couple of fairly new
-products. The first was _Downy_, a combination shampoo and soft-set;
-and it was heralded by a large-scale promotional campaign. The formula
-of _Downy_ was supposedly based on a principle used by the Egyptians
-in the preservation of their dead—though this was but vaguely referred
-to, being simply the scientific springboard for the product and thereby
-catching the endorsement of men in various fields, and gaining press
-coverage beyond mere paid advertisement. The main promotional emphasis
-though was on the social allure and overall security it seemed to
-promise. “DOWNY,” according to these releases, “_will make your hair
-... softer than the hair of_ YOUR OWN CHILD!”
-
-It was unconditionally guaranteed to do so. These releases went on to
-present certain inductive proofs that the formula of _Downy_ had been
-“Cleopatra’s secret,” that in reality she had been a woman of “only
-average prettiness (_which one must never never underestimate_)” and
-that she had won her thrones and her men with “what is _now_ YOUR OWN
-... D O W N Y.”
-
-The promotional campaign was in progress for quite a while before the
-product was offered to the general buyer, though it had of course
-been used with amazing success for a long time by a number of famous
-beauties, and there were plenty of testimonials to that effect. So that
-when it was finally offered, the sales ran high indeed.
-
-“I think we’ve hit on something here,” said the smock-stained veteran,
-Grand Guy Grand, at conference with the staffers as the market
-tabulations poured in that first morning. “I _don’t_ like to count the
-chickens so to speak, but _I think_ we’ve hit on something here ...
-something that may well spell ‘touchdown’ in the hearts of Mr. and
-Mrs. U.S.A.!”
-
-The others were agreeing wildly, but Grand was quick to show conference
-acumen, “... _not_ count the chickens, I say”—and he raised a
-cautionary finger—“_nor_ put all in _one basket!_”
-
-And even as he hinted at research for another new product already under
-way, adverse reports about the soft-set began coming in by the carload.
-For what this Grand Guy in his work with the new chemists had contrived
-was a potion that did _not_ soften the hair, after all, but on the
-contrary, made it _all stiff and wiry_.
-
-As the reports flooded in, along with an avalanche of lawsuits,
-staffers at the conference table grew restive.
-
-“Well, can’t win ’em all,” said Grand with a good loser’s chuckle.
-“Common Zen savvy tells us as much,” and he was content to dismiss the
-product’s failure with this, eager now to get started on something new;
-but as it became ever more apparent that their million-dollar planning
-had gone so terribly wrong, the staffers got panicky.
-
-“We do our best,” said Grand, shaking his head stoically. “No man can
-say more.”
-
-It appeared though that one of the senior execs, a white-haired man of
-about forty-two, might actually jump out the window.
-
-Grand, who held the initiative throughout most of the conferences,
-quietly led the man back to the table, and summed up in this way:
-
-“Talk is cheap, gentlemen, and since I’m not one personally to favor
-tired phrases, I _think_ I’ll spare you the grand old maxim about
-‘spilt milk,’ but I do want to say this: Show me the man who _looks
-back_—and _I’ll_ show _you_: a first-rate imbecile!”
-
-This brought conference around, and under Grand’s good guidance, they
-ignored the raging anathema without and looked to the future.
-
-“Our M.R. people have come up with something,” said Grand, “—that’s
-what we pay them for—well, they’ve come up with a couple of consumer
-principles we can kick around here at conference: one, the insatiate
-craving of the public for an _absolute_; and two, the modern failure
-of monotheism—that is to say, the _failure_ of the notion that _any
-absolute_ can be presented as one separate thing.”
-
-Grand paused to touch his fingers together before him, shooting sharply
-evaluative looks at several staffers nearest before he continued:
-
-“And they’re quite right, of course. We of the ... the extreme
-occident, for right or wrong—and there I’ve said it myself—think in
-_dichotomies_ ... have done so since our very inception. Oneness? Never
-had a chance in this great land of ours! Well, I ask you staffers,
-where does that leave us? Monotheism shot to pieces on the one
-hand—dire craving for an absolute existing on the other. I submit to
-you staffers that the solution establishes itself before our very eyes:
-namely, that an _absolute_—in any particular field—must be presented as
-a _dichotomy_! Yes, if one mother company, such as our Vanity, could
-confront the public with a _pure dichotomy_, in any particular product,
-it would gain virtual monopoly there. Yes, and _we_ will present such a
-dichotomy! Two sides which embrace the extremes and meet in the middle!
-I say people will make their choice _within_ the dichotomy presented
-by the mother company; they will not go outside it, because then the
-issue would become vague and the implications of the choice no longer
-clear and satisfying ... _satisfying_ in terms, I mean to say, of
-the self-orientation for which they _do_, in the last analysis, buy
-these products at all. Are there any dissensions from the view I’ve
-expressed?”
-
-There were none to speak of and Grand continued briefly:
-
-“Now what we want is one product which we can present in the two
-forms—good and evil, old and new, primitive and civilized—two items
-designed for the same use but presented as completely antithetical,
-both morally and philosophically—not aesthetically, however ...
-packaging will be high-tone and identical, let the departments
-concerned take note ... now do any of you—execs, staffers—know what
-that product might be?”
-
-They did not, but this was evidently just a teaser anyhow, for Grand
-had already selected his product, and the work on it even now was
-under way. It was to be a body deodorant of course—presented, as he
-had suggested, in two forms. The first was traditional, combining
-the clinical and the erotic, offering, as it did, “... _Protection
-for Those Most Precious Moments of All—It Cuts Away Body Odor like
-a Knife_.” It was technically superior to any others on the market,
-making use of “... liquid glass, harmless plastic sealers ...” and
-so on. It was called _Stealth_. The second deodorant was based on
-another principle altogether, _biology_. An ancient wisdom revived,
-it had to do with natural selection among mating animals, and did,
-according to eminent and quoted authorities, rest securely on the
-olfactory motive-response by which animals find and achieve harmonious,
-monogamous relationships. Thus, the second product was designed not
-to obscure the natural body odor but to cleverly assert it. And,
-in M.R. terms, an undeniable correspondence and natural attraction
-would result between appropriate compatible persons. It was called
-_Musk and Tallow_. An irritant jingle, in stereophonic sound, on
-the high-velocity repetition principle, was to be used: “_Don’t Lie
-Fallow—Musk and Tallow!_” repeated many many times within a few seconds.
-
-It was also decided that owing to the failure of _Downy_, it would be
-to certain advantage to make a clear break at this point and change the
-name of the mother company—a new name which would embrace both aspects
-of the M.R. postulate; and so it was decided: LADY APHRODITE.
-
-Grand arranged that a number of prominent biologists, physicians,
-philosophers, church representatives, film stars, congresswomen,
-nursery-school teachers, and so on, should come forward in unsolicited
-endorsement of the moral correctness and practicality of the product.
-
-Promotionwise, it did seem to capture the imagination of the public.
-Grand’s contention at conference was that it appealed to the
-“magnificent bohemian strain in the great middle class,” and “to the
-return-to-nature elements dormant within them like a sleeping giant.”
-
-“In offering these two products across this grand land of ours,”
-he said at final conference, “Lady Aphrodite has presented a pure
-dichotomy. At last a satisfactory choice may be made, a side taken, and
-yet _each side_ shall enjoy the security—on this particular issue at
-least—of _operating within an absolute_. Gentlemen, I say this product
-may well spell ‘home-run’ in the hearts of Mr. and Mrs. U.S.A.!”
-
-Small matter though, for both products were, as it turned out, nothing
-more nor less than some kind of delayed-action _stench-bomb_—hydrogen
-sulfide or the like—causing a great stench and embarrassment to a
-number of people. Apparently it was simply another joke by Grand at
-their expense, and not altogether in the best of taste. At least so the
-press thought (when they got wind of it) and they were down on this
-Grand and his staffers like the proverbial ton. It cost him plenty to
-clear.
-
-
-
-
- VIII
-
-
-“And how is our Miss Sally Hastings these days?” Agnes asking this
-genially of Ginger Horton while giving Guy a meaningfully coy
-glance—for she had tried to interest her nephew in the young lady.
-
-“Poor Sally,” said Ginger Horton, putting on her look of extremest
-nonchalance. “She’s become rather tiresome, I’m afraid.”
-
-“That _is_ a shame,” said Agnes. “Such a lovely girl—didn’t you think
-so, Guy?”
-
-“A most charming girl,” said Guy Grand.
-
-“And yet, I must say, _you_ didn’t seem to notice,” his aunt went on,
-rather severely, “hardly spoke two words all evening—though, if I’ve a
-shred of intuitiveness, she was very much attracted to _you_, Guy.”
-
-“We met later at her place,” Guy explained.
-
-“Guy, you didn’t!” said Agnes in genuine annoyance.
-
-“Yes, of course,” said Guy. “Just for a little tête-à-tête—nothing more
-certainly.”
-
-“_Well_,” said Agnes, taking a long sip of her tea, and pursing her
-lips before speaking again to Ginger, “that _is_ a shame, Ginger. And
-such a _clever_ girl, too; but then I suppose so many of them are,
-aren’t they—young girls, I mean, of her sort? Personally, of course, I
-put _quality_ before _cleverness_—don’t _you_, Guy?”
-
-“Oh, I should think that goes without saying,” said Guy easily.
-
- * * * * *
-
-Grand’s entrance into the world of championship boxing, significant
-though it may have been, went completely unnoticed by the savants of
-the press. They continued about their business, promoting the Champ.
-They said the Champ had plenty of heart and moxie, and that while he
-might not be the brightest guy in the whole world, by golly, he was
-nobody’s fool, and pound for pound, he could punch with the best of
-them.
-
-In the columns they set up hypothetical matches:
-
- Maybe you’re asking, “Could the Champ have taken the Rock’s
- primeval right-cross?” The answer to that? He _could_, and he could
- have dished something out to boot! “_But_,” you want to know,
- “_could_ he have handled the Bomber’s Sunday-one, I mean the one
- that could snap a two-by-four from nine inches!” Look, you want
- me to tell you something? If Champy couldn’t roll that punch, you
- know what he _could_ do? He could just _laugh_ it off! “Granted,”
- you say, “but could the Champ have lasted with Big John L., when
- the chips were down bloody-bare-bone-knuckle in the 108th stanza?”
- You want my answer to that, buddy? Okay, I’ll tell you something.
- I was standing with the Champ and his gray-haired Mom one Saturday
- afternoon on the corner of Darrow and Lex when some punk hood comes
- up and starts slapping Champ’s Mom around.
-
- “You dirty old slut!” he yelled, slapping her around. The Champ’s
- Mom! Can you imagine!?! _Well_, if you think the American
- heavyweight boxing champion of the world stands idle while some
- cheap runt of a punk roughs up his _Mom_—_you’ve_ got another think
- coming, Mister! _You’d_ better put on your think-cap, Mister! The
- answer is _N_ ... _O_ ... spells “NO!” “Okay,” you say, “so far, so
- hunky-do-ray-me, but could the Champ have notched Demetrias—when
- Demi was swinging with the old net and trident, and the Champ was
- hog-tied?” What? You want my answer to that buddy? Okay, just
- listen. If Champ....
-
-The Champ was a national hero. He became a TV personality, and his
-stock in trade was a poignant, almost incredible, ignorance. He was
-good-natured and lovably stupid—and, boy-oh-boy, was he _tough_!
-
-Well, Grand got through somehow, put his cards on the table (two
-million, tax-free) and made an arrangement whereby the Champ would
-throw the next fight in a gay or effeminate manner and, in fact, would
-behave that way all the time, on TV, in the ring, everywhere—swishing
-about, grimacing oddly, flinching when he struck a match, and so on.
-
-The next big bout was due to go quite differently now. The challenger
-in this case was a thirty-three-year-old veteran of the ring named
-Texas Powell. Tex had an impressive record: 40 wins (25 by K.O.), 7
-losses and 3 draws. He had been on the scene for quite a while and was
-known, or so the press insisted, as a “rugged customer,” and a “tough
-cookie.”
-
-“Tex has got the punch,” they said. “The big _if_ is: Can he deliver
-it? Will he remain conscious long enough to deliver it? _There’s_ your
-Big If in tonight’s Garden bout!”
-
-Well, the fix was in with Tex too, of course—not simply to carry
-the fight, but to do so in the most flamboyantly homosexual manner
-possible. And finally, a fix—or _zinger_, as it was called in those
-days—was in with the Commission as well, a precaution taken under best
-advice as it turned out, because what happened in the ring that night
-was so “funny” that the bout might well have been halted at the opening
-bell.
-
-Fortunately, what did happen didn’t last too long. The Champ and the
-challenger capered out from their corners with a saucy mincing step,
-and, during the first cagey exchange—which on the part of each was
-like nothing so much as a young girl striking at a wasp with her left
-hand—uttered little cries of surprise and disdain. Then Texas Powell
-took the fight to the Champ, closed haughtily, and engaged him with a
-pesky windmill flurry which soon had the Champ covering up frantically,
-and finally shrieking, “I can’t _stand_ it!” before succumbing beneath
-the vicious peck and flurry, to lie in a sobbing tantrum on the canvas,
-striking his fists against the floor of the ring—more the bad loser
-than one would have expected. Tex tossed his head with smug feline
-contempt and allowed his hand to be raised in victory—while, at the
-touch, eyeing the ref in a questionable manner.
-
-Apparently a number of people found the spectacle so abhorrent that
-they actually blacked-out.
-
-
-
-
- IX
-
-
-“Ginger ...” Agnes began lightly, “when did you first realize that
-Sally Hastings was perhaps ... well, a bit _common_?”
-
-“Agnes, it was _Bitsy_ who knew it first,” exclaimed Ginger Horton with
-perfect candor.
-
-“The dog?” asked Grand.
-
-“What _can_ you mean by that, Ginger?” Agnes wanted to know, dubious
-herself, yet casting her nephew a quick and cutting look to show where
-her allegiance lay even so.
-
-“She didn’t really love our Bitsy, Agnes,” said Ginger narrowly, “...
-and Bitsy _couldn’t_ have cared less I assure you!”
-
- * * * * *
-
-Grand’s work in cinema management and film editing had apparently not
-diminished his strong feeling for dramatic theatre, so that with the
-cultural ascension of television drama, he was all the more keen to
-get, as he put it, “_back on the boards_.”
-
-“There’s no biz like show biz,” he liked to quip to the other troupers,
-“... oh, we have our ups and downs, heck yes—but I wouldn’t trade one
-whiff of grease paint on opening night, by gosh, for all the darn
-châteaux of France!”
-
-Thus did he enter the field, not nominally of course, but in effect.
-There was at this time a rather successful drama hour on Sunday
-evening. “Our Town Playhouse” it was called and was devoted to serious
-fare; at least the viewers were told it was serious fare—truth to
-tell though, it was by any civilized standard, the crassest sort of
-sham, cant, and weak-kneed pornography imaginable. Grand set about to
-interfere with it.
-
-His arrival was fairly propitious; the production in dress rehearsal
-at that moment was called _All Our Yesterdays_, a drama which,
-according to the sponsors, was to be, concerning certain emotions and
-viewpoints, more or less _definitive_.
-
-Beginning with this production, Grand made it a point that he or his
-representative contact the hero or heroine of each play, while it was
-still in rehearsal, and reach some sort of understanding about final
-production. A million was generally sufficient.
-
-The arrangement between Grand and the leading actress of _All Our
-Yesterdays_ was simplicity itself. During final production, that is to
-say, the Sunday-night nation-wide presentation of the play, and at the
-top of her big end-of-the-second-act scene, the heroine suddenly turned
-away from the other players, approached the camera, and addressed the
-viewers, point-blank:
-
-“Anyone who would allow this slobbering pomp and drivel in his home has
-less sense and taste than the beasts of the field!”
-
-Then she pranced off the set.
-
-Half the remaining actors turned to stare after her in amazement, while
-the others sat frozen in their last attitudes. There was a frenzy of
-muffled whispers coming from off-stage:
-
-“What the hell!”
-
-“Cue! Cue!”
-
-“_Fade it! For Christ’s sake, fade it!_”
-
-Then there was a bit of commotion before it was actually faded—one of
-the supporting actors had been trained in Russian methods and thought
-he could improvise the rest of the play, about twelve minutes, so there
-were one or two odd lines spoken by him in this attempt before the
-scene jerkily faded to blackness. A short documentary film about tarpon
-fishing was put on to fill out the balance of the hour.
-
-The only explanation was that the actress had been struck by insanity;
-but even so, front-office temper ran high.
-
-On the following Sunday, the production, _Tomorrow’s Light_, took an
-unexpected turn while the leading actor, in the role of an amiable old
-physician, was in the midst of an emergency operation. His brow was
-knit in concern and high purpose, as the young nurse opposite watched
-his face intently for a sign.
-
-“Dr. Lawrence,” she said, “do you ... do you think you can save Dr.
-Chester’s son?”
-
-Without relaxing his features, the doctor smiled, a bit grimly it
-seemed, before raising his serious brown eyes to her own.
-
-“I’m afraid it isn’t a question of saving _him_, Miss Nurse—I only wish
-it were—it’s a question of saving my dinner.”
-
-The nurse evidenced a questioning look, just concealing the panic
-beneath it (_for he had missed his cue!_), so, laying aside his
-instruments, he continued, as in explanation:
-
-“Yes, you see, I really think if I speak one more line of this drivel
-I’ll lose my dinner.” He nodded gravely at the table, “... vomit right
-into that incision I’ve made.” He slowly drew off his rubber gloves,
-regarding the astonished nurse as he did so with mild indignation.
-
-“Perhaps that would be _your_ idea of a pleasant Sunday evening, Miss
-Nurse,” he said reproachfully. “Sorry, it _isn’t_ mine!” And he turned
-and strode off the set.
-
-The third time something like this happened, the producer and sponsor
-were very nearly out of their minds. Of course they suspected that a
-rival company was tampering with the productions, bribing the actors
-and so on. Security measures were taken. Directors were fired right
-and left. Rehearsals were held behind locked doors, and there was an
-attempt to keep the actors under constant surveillance, but ... Grand
-always seemed to get in there somehow, with the old convincer.
-
-In the aftermath, some of the actors paid the breach-of-contract fine
-of twenty-five or fifty thousand; others pleaded temporary insanity;
-still others gained a lot of publicity by taking a philosophic stand,
-saying that it was true, they had been overcome with nausea at that
-drivel, and that they themselves were too sensitive and serious for
-it, had too much integrity, moral fiber, etc. With a million behind
-them, none seemed to lack adequate defense arrangements. Those who were
-kicked out of their union usually became producers.
-
-Meanwhile the show went on. People started tuning in to see what new
-outrage would happen; it even appeared to have a sort of elusive comic
-appeal. It became the talk of the industry; the rating soared—but
-somehow it looked bad. Finally the producer and the sponsor of the show
-were put on the carpet before Mr. Harlan, the tall and distinguished
-head of the network.
-
-“Listen,” he said to the sponsor as he paced the office, “we want your
-business, Mr. Levet, don’t get me wrong—but if you guys can’t control
-that show of yours ... well, I mean _goddamn_ it, what’s going on over
-there?” He turned to the producer now, who was a personal friend of
-his: “For Christ’s sake, Max, can’t you get together a _show_, and
-put it on the way it’s supposed to be without any somersaults? ... is
-_that_ so hard to do?... I mean _we_ can’t have this sort of thing
-going on, _you_ know that, Max, we _simply cannot have_....”
-
-“Listen, Al,” said the producer, a short fat man who rose up and down
-on his toes, smiling, as he spoke, “we got the highest Trendex in the
-books right now.”
-
-“Max, goddamn it, I’d have the FCC down on my neck in another
-week—_you_ can’t schedule one kind of hour—have something go haywire
-every time and fill out with something else.... I mean what the _hell_
-you got over there ... _two_ shows or _one_, for Christ’s sake!”
-
-“We got the top Trendex in the biz, Al.”
-
-“There are some goddamn things that are against the law, Max, and that
-kind of stuff you had going out last week, that ‘_I pity the moron
-whose life is so empty he would look at this_,’ and that kind of crap
-_cannot go out over the air_! Don’t you understand that? It’s not _me_,
-Max, you know that. I wouldn’t give a goddamn if you had a ... a _mule_
-up there throwing it to some hot broad, I only wish we could, for
-Christ’s sake—but there _is a question of lawful procedure_ and....”
-
-“How about if it’s ‘healthy satire of the media,’ Al?”
-
-“... and—_what?_”
-
-“We got the top of the book, Al.”
-
-“Wait a minute....”
-
-“We got it, Al.”
-
-“Wait a minute, Max, I’m thinking, for Christ’s sake ... ‘healthy
-satire of the media’.... _It’s_ an angle, _it’s_ an angle. Jones might
-buy it ... Jones at the FCC ... if I could get to him first ... he’s
-stupid enough to buy it. Okay, it’s an angle, Max—that’s all I can say
-right now ... it’s an angle.”
-
-The critics for the most part, after lambasting the first couple of
-shows as “terrific boners,” sat tight for a while, just to see which
-way the wind was going to blow, so to speak—then, with the rating at
-sky-rocket level, they began to suggest that the show might be worth a
-peek.
-
-“An off-beat sleeper,” one of them said, “don’t miss it.”
-
-“_New_ comedy,” said a second, “a sophisticated take-off on the
-sentimental.”
-
-And another: “Here’s humor at its highest.”
-
-Almost all agreed in the end that it was healthy satire.
-
-After interfering with six or seven shows, Grand grew restive.
-
-“I’m pulling out,” he said to himself, “it may have been good money
-after bad all along.”
-
-It was just as well perhaps, because at the point when the producer and
-sponsor became aware of what was responsible for their vast audience,
-they began consciously trying to choose and shape each drama towards
-that moment of anomaly which had made the show famous. And somehow
-this seemed to spoil it. At any rate it very soon degenerated—back to
-the same old tripe. And of course it was soon back to the old rating
-as well—which, as in the early, pre-Grand days, was all right, but
-nothing, really, to be too proud of.
-
-
-
-
- X
-
-
-“Would you like to know why I remember that young Laird K. Russell so
-vividly, Agnes?” Esther was asking.
-
-Ginger Horton sniffed to show unqualified disinterest and murmured
-something to her sleeping Bitsy.
-
-“Esther, you can’t be serious,” said Agnes, turning to the others with
-a brilliant smile. “More tea, anyone?”
-
-“I most certainly _would_ like to know,” said Grand, actually coming
-forward a little on his chair.
-
-“Well,” said Esther, “it was because he looked like my father.”
-
-“Esther, really!” cried Agnes.
-
-“I mean _our_ father, of course,” Esther amended. “Yes, Agnes, he
-looked just like the photographs of Poppa as a young man. It struck me
-then, but I didn’t realize it at the time. So perhaps it’s not Laird K.
-Russell I’m remembering, you see, even now, but those photographs. You
-didn’t know him, of course, Guy—he was a truly remarkable man.”
-
-“Young Russell do you mean, or Poppa?” asked Guy.
-
-“Why Poppa, of course—surely you don’t know Laird K. Russell?”
-
-“Esther, in the name of heaven!” cried Agnes. “He’s probably _dead_ by
-now! How _can_ you go on so about the man? Sometimes I wonder if you
-aren’t trying quite deliberately to _upset_ me....”
-
- * * * * *
-
-Speaking of upsets though, Grand upset the equilibrium of a rather
-smart Madison Avenue advertising agency, Jonathan Reynolds, Ltd.,
-by secretly buying it—_en passant_, so to speak—and putting in as
-president a pygmy.
-
-At that time it was rare for a man of this skin-pigmentation or
-stature (much the less both) to hold down a top-power post in one of
-these swank agencies, and these two handicaps would have been difficult
-to overcome—though perhaps could have been overcome in due time had the
-chap shown a reasonable amount of savoir-faire and general ability,
-or the promise of developing it. In this case, however, Grand had
-apparently paid the man to behave in an eccentric manner—to scurry
-about the offices like a squirrel and to chatter raucously in his
-native tongue. It was more than a nuisance.
-
-An account executive, for example, might be entertaining an extremely
-important client in his own office, a little tête-à-tête of the very
-first seriousness—perhaps with an emissary of one of the soap-flake
-kings—when the door would burst open and in would fly the president,
-scrambling across the room and under the desk, shrieking pure
-gibberish, and then out he’d go again, scuttling crabwise over the
-carpet, teeth and eyes blazing.
-
-“What in God’s name was that?” the client would ask, looking slowly
-about, his face pocked with a terrible frown.
-
-“Why, that ... that....” But the a.e. could not bring himself to tell,
-not after the first few times anyway. Evidently it was a matter of
-pride.
-
-Later this a.e. might run into one of his friends from another agency,
-and the friend would greet him:
-
-“Say, hear you’ve got a new number one over at J.R., Tommy—what’s the
-chap like?”
-
-“Well, as a matter of fact, Bert....”
-
-“You don’t mean the old boy’s got you on the _mat_ already, Tommy.
-Ha-ha. _That_ what you’re trying to say?”
-
-“No, Bert, it’s ... well I don’t know, Bert, I _just don’t know_.”
-
-It was a matter of pride, of course. As against it, salaries had been
-given a fairly stiff boost, _and_ titles. If these dapper execs were
-to go to another agency now, it would be at a considerable loss of
-dollars and cents. Most of the old-timers—and the younger ones too,
-actually—had what it took to stick it out there at J.R.
-
-
-
-
- XI
-
-
-“These sweet fluffs _are_ good,” said Ginger Horton, daintily taking
-what was perhaps her ninth cream puff from a great silver tray at hand,
-and giving Guy Grand a most coquettish look.
-
-“Takes one to know one,” said Guy, beaming and rolling his eyes.
-
-Esther twittered, and Agnes looked extremely pleased.
-
- * * * * *
-
-Grand made quite a splash in the fall of ’58 when he entered the
-“big-car” field with his sports line of Black Devil Rockets, a
-gigantic convertible. There were four models of the Rocket, each
-with a different fanciful name, though, except for the color of the
-upholstery, all four cars were identical. The big convertible was
-scaled in the proportions of an ordinary automobile, but was tremendous
-in size—was, in fact, _longer and wider than the largest Greyhound Bus
-in operation_.
-
-“THERE’S POWER TO SPARE UNDER THIS BIG BABY’S FORTY-FOOT HOOD!” was a
-sales claim that gained attention.
-
-Fronting the glittering crystal dash were two “racing-cup” seats with
-a distance of ten feet between them, and the big “gang’s-all-here”
-seat in back would accommodate twelve varsity crewmen abreast in roomy
-comfort.
-
-“Buy Yourself One _Whale_ of a Car, Buddy!” read the giant ads. “From
-Stem to Stern She’s a Flat One Hundred Feet! Ladylike Lines on a He-Man
-Hunk of Car!”
-
-Performance figures were generally side-stepped, but a number of
-three-color billboards and full-page ads were headed: “_Performance?_
-Ask the Fella Behind the Wheel!” and featured, in apparently authentic
-testimonial, one of the Indianapolis speed kings behind the wheel of
-the mammoth convertible. A larger than average man, he was incredibly
-dwarfed by the immense dimensions of the car. His tiny face, just
-visible at the top of the wheel, was split in a grin of insanity, like
-a toothpaste ad, a madman’s laugh frozen at the nightmare peak of
-hilarity, and it was captioned:
-
-“_Getting the feel of this big baby has been one real thrill, believe
-you me!_”
-
-The four identical models were shown at a display room on Fifth Avenue,
-and though considered beyond the price range of most, were evidently
-sold. At any rate, on the last day of the exposition they were driven
-away, out and into the streets of mid-town Manhattan during the five
-o’clock rush.
-
-Despite their roominess, power, and road-holding potential, the big
-cars did prove impractical in the city, because their turning-arc—for
-the ordinary 90° change of direction—was greater than the distance
-between the street-angled buildings, so that by five thirty all four
-of the sleek Devil Rockets were wedged at angles across various
-intersections around Columbus Circle, each a barrier to thoroughfare
-in four directions, and causing quite a snarl indeed until cranes and
-derricks could be brought up from the East River to pry the big cars
-out.
-
-New York authorities were quick to respond to the flood of protests
-and got out an injunction to prevent Black Devil Rocket Corp. from
-further production.
-
-“Personally,” said one high-ranking city official, in an off-the-record
-remark in defense of the court’s ruling—which was, after all,
-a flagrant infringement on the rights of free enterprise—“...
-_personally_ I frankly think the car is an ugly car and a ...
-a _pretentious_ car, and, as experience has shown us, it is an
-impractical car. I’ll bet it’s plenty expensive to run, too.”
-
-At last account though, Grand—himself fairly well in the background—was
-carrying on, pressing his fight to get the go-ahead and swing into full
-production with the big baby.
-
-
-
-
- XII
-
-
-“You _must_ stay to dinner, Ginger,” said Agnes. “And there _might_ be
-a nice bit of fillet for our Bitsy,” she added knowingly. “Do let me
-tell Cook you will!”
-
-“But, my dear, we simply couldn’t,” said Ginger, casting a look flushed
-with girlish pride down at her own great scanty costume. “What about
-your nigras?”
-
-“Cook and kitchen staff?” said Agnes, genuinely surprised. “Why,
-Ginger, really! But what’s your feeling on it, Guy?”
-
-“Sorry, don’t follow,” said Guy.
-
-“Well, Ginger seems to think that our servers might be ... might be....”
-
-“Might be sent straight off their rockers with bestial desire, you
-mean?” asked Grand tersely. “Hmm—Ginger may be right. Better safe than
-sorry in these matters I’ve always said.”
-
- * * * * *
-
-Guy liked playing the fool, it’s true—though some say there was more
-to his antics than met the eye. At any rate, one amusing diversion in
-which he took a central role himself was when he played _grand gourmet_
-at the world’s most luxurious restaurants.
-
-Guy would arrive in faultless evening attire, attended by his
-poker-faced valet, who carried a special gourmet’s chair and a large
-valise of additional equipment. The chair, heavily weighted at the
-bottom so it could not be easily overturned, was also fitted with a big
-waist strap which was firmly secured around Grand’s middle as soon as
-he was seated. Then the valet would take from the valise a huge rubber
-bib and attach it to Guy while the latter surveyed the menu in avid
-conference with a bevy of hosts—the maître d’, the senior waiter, the
-wine steward, and at least one member of the chef’s staff.
-
-Guy Grand was the last of the big spenders and, as such, a great
-favorite at these restaurants; due to his eccentric behavior during the
-meal however, the management always took care to place him at a table
-as decentralized as possible—on the edge of the terrace, in a softly
-lit alcove, or, preferably, at a table entirely obscured by a canopy
-arrangement which many restaurants, after his first visit, saw fit to
-have on hand for Guy’s return.
-
-Following the lengthy discussion to determine the various courses, the
-waist strap was checked, and Guy would sit back in his chair, rubbing
-his hands together in sophisticated anticipation of the taste treats to
-come.
-
-When the first course did arrive, an extraordinary spectacle would
-occur. At the food’s very aroma, Grand, still sitting well back from
-the table, as in fanatical self-restraint, would begin to writhe
-ecstatically in his chair, eyes rolling, head lolling, saliva streaming
-over his ruddy jowls. Then he would suddenly stiffen, his face a mask
-of quivering urgency, before shouting: “_Au table!_” whereupon he
-would lurch forward, both arms cupped out across the table, and wildly
-scoop the food, dishes and all, towards his open mouth. Following
-this fantastic clatter and commotion—which left him covered from the
-top of his head to his waist with food—the expressionless valet would
-lean forward and unfasten the chair strap, and Guy would bolt from
-the table and rush pell-mell towards the kitchen, covered and dripping
-with food, hair matted with it, one arm extended full length as in a
-congratulatory handshake, shouting at the top of his voice:
-
-“_MES COMPLIMENTS AU CHEF!_”
-
-Upon his return to the table, he would be strapped into the chair
-again, hosed-down by a little water pump from the valet’s case, and
-dried with a big towel; then the performance would be repeated with
-each course.
-
-Restaurants who used a special canopy to conceal Grand from the other
-diners did so at considerable risk, because at the moment of completing
-each course he would bolt for the kitchen so quickly that, unless
-the waiters were extremely alert and dexterous in pulling aside the
-canopy, he would bring the thing down on his head and, like a man in a
-collapsed tent, would flail about inside it, upsetting the table, and
-adding to the general disturbance, or worse, as sometimes did happen,
-he might regain his feet within the canopy and careen blindly through
-the plush restaurant, toppling diners everywhere, and spreading the
-disturbance—and, of course, if he ever reached the kitchen while still
-inside the canopy, it could be actually calamitous.
-
-The open-mouthed astonishment of waiters, diners and others who were
-witness to these scenes was hardly lessened by the bits of bland
-dialogue they might overhear between the maître d’, who was also in on
-the gag, and the valet.
-
-“Chef’s _Béarnaise_ pleased him,” the maître d’ would remark soberly to
-the valet, “I could tell.”
-
-The valet would agree with a judicious nod, as he watched Grand
-storming through the restaurant. “He’s awful keen tonight.”
-
-“In the _Béarnaise_,” the maître d’ would suddenly confide in an
-excited whisper, “the peppercorns were _bruised_ merely by dropping
-them!” And the two men would exchange dark knowing glances at this
-revelation.
-
-By the last course Grand would be utterly exhausted, and the exquisite
-dessert would invariably prove too much for his overtaxed senses.
-At the first taste of it, he would go into a final tantrum and then
-simply black out. He always had to be carried from the restaurant on a
-stretcher, leaving waiters and diners staring agape, while the maître
-d’ stood respectfully by the door with several of his staff.
-
-“Boy, was that guy ever _nuts_! Huh?” a wide-eyed young waiter would
-exclaim as he stood with the maître d’, gazing after the departing
-figures. But the latter would appear not to have heard.
-
-“The last of the _grand gourmets_,” he would sigh, and there was
-always a trace of wistful nostalgia in his face when he turned back
-from the door. “No, sir, they don’t make taste buds like _that_ any
-more.”
-
-Connivance with the maître d’s of these top restaurants was an
-expensive affair, and there was a shake-up in more than one veteran
-staff due to it. Those who lost their jobs though were usually in a
-position to open fairly smart restaurants of their own—assuming, of
-course, they didn’t care to buy the one from which they were fired.
-
-
-
-
- XIII
-
-“In _literature_, of course,” Ginger Horton was saying, “the _best_
-writing comes out of the _heart_, and _not_ the _head_!”
-
-“_I’ll_ buy that!” agreed Guy Grand, coming forward on his big chair in
-ready interest, his voice going a bit taut with feeling as he continued:
-
-“For _my_ money the best ... the _very best_ darn writing is done right
-out of the old guts, by God!” And he gave his budding paunch a short
-slap to strengthen his meaning.
-
-“Good Heavens,” said Esther crouching forward into a sea of giggles.
-
-“And _no rewrite_!” said Guy strongly, “... right out of the old guts
-onto the goddamn paper!”
-
-“Guy!” exclaimed Agnes, “really!” It was well known that Ginger
-Horton _did_ write—wrote unceasingly—relentless torrents of a deeply
-introspective prose.
-
-“Sorry,” muttered Grand, sitting back again, “get a bit carried away
-sometimes, I expect.”
-
-“_Feeling and passion!_” agreed Ginger Horton in a shriek. “Of course
-most of the nasty little people around don’t feel a _thing_! _Not a
-single thing!_”
-
-“Interesting you should bring that up,” said Guy, reaching in his coat
-pocket and withdrawing a small memo-book, which he thumbed through as
-he continued:
-
-“Fellow I met on the train—I won’t mention his name if you don’t mind,
-because the thing is still pretty much on the drawing board, so to
-speak ... but I can tell you _this_: he’s one of the top-brass along
-‘Publishers’ Row’—well, we got to talking, one thing and another,
-and he offered to let me in on a new scheme of his. How sound it is
-I _don’t_ know, but he’s willing to let me in on the ground floor—at
-_second-story prices_, of course—” added Guy with a good-natured
-chuckle. “And _there’s_ your old six-and-seven again, but, still
-and all, that’s to be expected in the investment game. Well, his
-scheme—and I’d like to put out a feeler on it—is to issue a series of
-Do-It-Yourself Portables ... the _Do-It-Yourself Shakespeare_, the
-_D.H. Do-It-Yourself Lawrence_, and so on.”
-
-“What on earth—” Ginger began crossly.
-
-“_His_ idea,” said Guy, “—and I don’t pretend to know how sound it
-is—is to issue the regular texts of well-known works, with certain
-words, images, bits of dialogue, and what have you, left _blank_ ...
-just spaces there, you see ... which _the reader fills in_.”
-
-“Well, I never—” said Ginger irately.
-
-“Oh yes, here we are,” said Grand, evidently finding the place he was
-looking for in the memo-book, “Yes, now here’s some of his promotional
-copy ... rough draft, mind you ... let’s see, yes, this is for Kafka’s
-_Do-It-Yourself Trial_. Goes like this:
-
- ‘Now you too can experience that same marvelous torment of
- ambiguity and haunting glimpse of eternal beauty which tore this
- strange artist’s soul apart and stalked him to his very grave!
- Complete with optional imagery selector, master word table and
- _writer’s-special_ ball-point pen, thirty-five cents.’”
-
-Ginger Horton made a gurgling sound of anger preparatory to speaking,
-but Guy was quick to press on:
-
-“And here we are for the _Look Homeward (Yourself) Angel_:
-
- ‘Hey there, reader-writer—how would you like to spew your entrails
- right out onto a priceless Sarouk carpet?!? Huh? Right in the
- middle of somebody’s living room with everyone watching? Huh? Well,
- by golly, you _can_, etcetera, etcetera.’
-
-“As I say, it’s rough-draft copy, of course—needs tightening up,
-brightening up—but what’s your feeling on it, Ginger? Think it might
-spell ‘blast-off’ in the hearts of Mr. and Mrs. Front Porch?”
-
-“What? Well I wouldn’t put a ... a _single cent_ into it!” said Ginger
-with considerable emphasis.
-
-“Oh it’s just too dreadful, Guy,” exclaimed Agnes. “You mustn’t.”
-
-“Hmm. I suppose you’re right,” said Guy, “... hard to say really.
-_Might_ catch on—might not ... just wanted to put out a feeler or two
-on it. Always best to keep an open mind in the investment game.”
-
- * * * * *
-
-Grand had a bit of fun when he engaged a man to smash crackers with a
-sledge-hammer in Times Square.
-
-The stout fellow arrived with his gear—a box of saltine crackers and
-a sixty-pound sledge—at precisely 9 A.M. and “set up shop,” as Guy
-expressed it, just outside the subway entrance on Forty-Second Street,
-the busiest thoroughfare in the world at this particular hour.
-
-Dressed in khaki and wearing a tin hat, the curious man forged his way
-through the deluge of people pouring out of the subway, and then in
-the very midst of the surging throng, opened the brass-studded pouch
-attached to his belt, extracted a single saltine cracker, and stooped
-over to place it carefully on the sidewalk.
-
-“Watch yourself!” he shouted as he stood up, gesturing impatiently.
-“Keep clear! Mind your step!” And then, raising the hammer to shoulder
-height, he brought it down in one horrendous blow on the cracker—not
-only smashing it to dust, but also producing several rather large
-cracks in the sidewalk.
-
-Within a few minutes the area was swollen with onlookers—all but the
-nearest of whom had to crane their heads wildly or leap up and down to
-get a glimpse of the man in the tin hat now as he squatted to examine
-the almost invisible dust of the cracker. “Sure mashed it, didn’t it?”
-he muttered, as to himself, in a professional manner.
-
-“What’d he say?” demanded several people urgently of those near the
-operation.
-
-“Said it ‘sure _mashed_ it,’” someone explained.
-
-“‘_Mashed_ it’?” snorted another. “Boy, you can say _that_ again!”
-
-Guy Grand was on the scene as well, observing the diverse comments and
-sometimes joining in.
-
-“Hey, how come you doin’ that?” he asked directly of the man in the tin
-hat.
-
-The man laid out another cracker, placing it with great care.
-
-“This?” he said, standing and raising the big sledge. “Oh, this is all
-technical.”
-
-“What’s he say?”
-
-“Says it’s technical.”
-
-“_What?_”
-
-“_Technical._”
-
-“Yeah, well, what’s that he’s hitting with the hammer? What is that? It
-looks like a _cracker_.”
-
-“Naw, what’d he hit a _cracker_ for—you kiddin’?”
-
-“Boy, look how that sledge busts up the sidewalk! Man, that’s some
-_sledge_ he’s got there!”
-
-Within a very short time indeed, the gathering had spilled over into
-the street, interfering with the traffic there and causing the tough
-Forty-Second Street cop to wade growling into the heart of the crowd.
-“Okay, break it up!” he kept saying. “Shove off!” And when he reached
-the center where the operation was being carried out, he stood for a
-long while with his cap pushed back on his head, hands on hips, and a
-nasty frown on his face, as he watched the man in the tin hat smash a
-few more crackers with the giant sledge.
-
-“Are you workin’ for the _city_, bud?” he finally asked in an irate
-voice.
-
-“That’s right,” said the tin-hat man without looking up. “City
-planning. This is technical.”
-
-“Yeah,” said the cop, “well, you sure picked a hell of a place to do
-it, that’s all I got to say.” Then, adjusting his cap, he started
-pushing at the crowd.
-
-“Okay, let’s keep movin’!” he shouted. “Break it up here! Get on to
-work! This is technical—_shove off!_”
-
-Diversion is at a premium at this hour however, and the crowd was not
-to be dispersed so easily. After a while the hoses had to be brought.
-When the ruse was discovered, Grand had a spot of bother clearing it.
-
-
-
-
- XIV
-
-
-“Perhaps Ginger could slip into one of your things,” suggested Guy.
-
-Esther childishly covered her mouth to hide a laugh, and darted glances
-of mischief and glee at the others, while Agnes drew in her breath
-before speaking:
-
-“I’m afraid we do _not_ take the same size, Guy!”
-
-Agnes, thin as a whip, was perhaps a size nine; Ginger’s great size
-must have been well into the sixties.
-
-Ginger, too, shook her head emphatically.
-
-“Charles would simply die if I wore a frock he hadn’t done!” she said.
-
-“Has Charles done any chemises for you?” Guy inquired.
-
-“I _wanted_ Charles to do some little Roman chemises for me, Guy,”
-Ginger confided. “I think I have the fullness for them—well, it would
-have meant giving up all my little feminine frills and laces, of
-course, and Charles simply would not hear of it! He said it would be
-a perfect _crime_—and he does so love to work with his laces, Guy, I
-simply didn’t have the heart! But then what’s your feeling on it, Guy?”
-she asked finally, giving a Carmenesque toss of her head.
-
-“Charles _could_ be right, of course,” said Guy, after allowing it a
-moment’s thought.
-
- * * * * *
-
-Grand gave a bit of a shock to the British white-hunters along the
-Congo (as well as to a couple of venerable old American writers who
-were there on safari at the time) when he turned up in a major hunting
-expedition with a 75-millimeter howitzer.
-
-“She throws a muzzle-velocity of twelve thousand f.p.s.,” Grand liked
-to quip. “She’ll stop anything on this continent.”
-
-Ordinarily used by the French Army as an artillery fieldpiece, the big
-gun, stripped of all but its barrel, chamber, and firing mechanism,
-still weighed well over a hundred and fifty pounds.
-
-“She’ll stop anything that moves,” Guy would say, “—including a
-surfaced _whale_.”
-
-Grand had three natives carry the giant gun, while he, wearing a huge
-cushion-device around his stomach and a pith helmet so enormous that
-half his face was concealed beneath it, sauntered jauntily alongside,
-speaking knowledgeably to other members of the party about every aspect
-of firearms and big-game hunting.
-
-“A spot of bother in Kenya bush the other day,” he would say, “the big
-cat took two of our best boys.” Then he would give his monstrous weapon
-an affectionate pat and add knowingly, “—the cat changed her tune when
-she’d had a taste of the old seventy-five! Yessir, this baby carries a
-real _wallop_, you can bet your life on that!”
-
-About once an hour, Grand would stop and dramatically raise his hand,
-bringing the entire safari to a halt, while he and one of his trusty
-natives (heretofore known as the “best guide in Central Africa”) would
-sniff the air, nostrils flared and quivering, eyes a bit wild.
-
-“_There’s cat in the bush_,” Guy would say tersely, and while the rest
-of the party looked on in pure amazement, Grand, big helmet completely
-obscuring his sight, would take up the huge gun and, staggering under
-its weight, brace it against the great cushion at his stomach, and
-blindly fire one of the mammoth shells into the bush, blasting a wide
-swath through the tall grass and felling trees as though they were
-stalks of corn. The recoil of the weapon would fling Grand about
-forty feet backwards through the air where he would land in a heap,
-apparently unconscious.
-
-“The baby packs a man-sized recoil,” Guy would say later. “The
-Mannlicher, of course, is nothing more than a _toy_.”
-
-Due to the extreme noise produced by the discharge of the 75, any
-actual game in the area was several miles away by the time the
-reverberations were stilled—so that these safaris would often go from
-start to finish without ever firing a shot, other than the occasional
-big boom from Grand’s 75.
-
-African hunting expeditions are serious and expensive affairs, and this
-kind of tomfoolery cost Grand a pretty penny. It did provide another
-amusing page for his memory book though—and the old native guides
-seemed to enjoy it as well.
-
-
-
-
- XV
-
-
-“Hold on, here’s a bit of news,” said Guy then, suddenly brightening in
-his big chair and smartly slapping the newspaper spread across his lap.
-The banner read:
-
- PRESIDENT ASKS NATION FOR FAITH
- IN GIANT SPACE PROGRAM
- Jackass Payload Promised
-
-He read it aloud in sonorous tones, but Ginger pooh-poohed the claim.
-
-“Probably one of these teeny-weeny Mexican burros!” she cried. “Jackass
-indeed!” She was a notorious foe of the administration.
-
-“I _wouldn’t_ underestimate our Mister Uncle Sambo if I were you,”
-cautioned Guy, raising a rather arch look for Ginger and the others.
-
-“Why those Mexican burros are no bigger than a minute!” Ginger insisted.
-
-“Ginger’s right,” put in Agnes sharply, donning her spectacles—as she
-almost invariably did when taking political issue with Guy—to peer down
-at him then over the top of them, her face pinched and testy. “It would
-make a good deal more sense to send _that_ great ninny up into space!”
-She flung back her head in a veritable cackle of delight at the idea.
-“I say blast that whole pack of ninnies right out into fartherest outer
-space!”
-
-Grand laid his paper aside.
-
-“I _don’t_ think I’m an intolerant person,” he said quietly, but
-with considerable feeling, as he rose to his feet, “nor one of hasty
-opinion—but, in times like these, when the very _mettle_ of this nation
-is in the crucible, I say that brand of talk is not far short of
-_damnable treason_!” Still glowering, he did a funny little two-step
-and ended in a smart salute. “I’m afraid I’ll not be staying for dinner
-myself, by the way,” he added matter-of-factly.
-
-“Guy, I simply will _not_ hear of it!” cried cross Agnes, snatching her
-glasses from her nose and fixing the man with a terrible frown. “Surely
-you _shall_ stay!”
-
-“Guy, Guy, Guy,” keened Esther, wagging her dear gray head, “always on
-the go.”
-
-“Yes, only wish I _could_ stay,” agreed Guy sadly. “Best push on
-though—back to harness, back to grind.”
-
- * * * * *
-
-It was along towards the end though that Grand achieved, in terms of
-public outrage, his _succès d’estime_, as some chose to call it, when
-he put out to sea in his big ship, the _S.S. Magic Christian_ ... the
-ship sometimes later referred to as “The Terrible Trick Ship of Captain
-Klaus.” Actually it was the old _Griffin_, a passenger liner which
-Grand bought and had reconditioned for about fifty million.
-
-A vessel of 30,000 tons, the _Christian_ had formerly carried some
-eleven-hundred-odd passengers. Grand converted it into a one-class
-ship, outfitted to accommodate four hundred passengers, in a style
-and comfort perhaps unknown theretofore outside princely domains of
-the East. Each cabin on the _Christian_ was a palace in miniature;
-the appointments were so lavish and so exquisitely detailed that
-they might better be imagined than described. All the cabins were of
-course above deck and outside, each with a twenty-foot picture window
-and French doors to a private patio commanding a magnificent expanse
-of sea and sky. There were fine deep rugs throughout each suite and
-period-furnishings of first account, private bars, chaise longues,
-log-burning fireplaces, king-sized beds (canopy optional), an adjoining
-library-den (with a set of the _Britannica_ and the best in smart
-fiction), tape recorders, powder rooms, small Roman bath and steam
-cabinet. Walls were generally in a quiet tone of suede with certain
-paneling of teak and rosewood.
-
-Ship’s dining room was styled after Maxim’s in Paris whose staff had
-been engaged to prepare the meals and to serve them with inconspicuous
-grace against a background of soft music provided by the Juilliard
-String Quartette. The balance of ship’s appointments were in harmonious
-key—there was, for example, a veritable jewel box of a theatre, seating
-just four hundred, fashioned in replica of the one in the Monte Carlo
-Casino; and the versatile repertory group, Old Vic Players, were on
-stand-by for two shows a day.
-
-Ship’s doctor, aside from being an able physician, was also a
-top-flight mental specialist, so that Problem-Counseling was available
-to the passengers at all hours.
-
-But perhaps the most carefully thought-out nicety of the _Christian_
-was its principal lounge, the Marine Room—a large room, deep below
-decks, its wall (that which was part of ship’s hull) glassed so that
-the passengers sat looking out into the very heart of the sea. An
-ocean-floor effect was maintained by the regular release of deep-sea
-creatures from a water-line station near the bow, and through the
-use of powerful daylight kliegs there was afforded a breath-taking
-panorama—with giant octopi, huge rainbow-colored ray, serpents, great
-snowy angelfish, and fantastic schools of luminous tetra constantly
-gliding by or writhing in silent majestic combat a few feet from the
-relaxed passengers.
-
-Though the _Magic Christian_ received its share of prevoyage hullabaloo
-(_Life_ magazine devoted an issue to photographs, enthusiastically
-captioned), its only form of paid advertisement was a simple
-announcement of its sailing date, which appeared in _The Times_ and in
-the _National Geographic_. The fare was not mentioned (though _Life_
-had said it was “about five thousand”) and the announcement was set in
-small heavy type, boxed with a very black border. “For the Gracious Few
-...” it opened, and went on to state in a brief, restrained apology,
-that _not everyone_ could be accepted, that applications for passage
-on the _Christian_ were necessarily carefully screened, and that those
-who were refused should not take offense. “Our criteria,” it closed,
-“may _not_ be yours.”
-
-Ship’s quarters were not shown until the applicant had been accepted,
-and then were shown by appointment.
-
-The ship was christened by the Queen of England.
-
-All of this had a certain appeal and the applications poured in.
-More than a few people, in fact, were _demanding_ passage on the
-_Christian_’s first voyage. Those just back from holiday were suddenly
-planning to go abroad again; scores rushed home simply to qualify and
-make the trip. For many, the maiden voyage of the _Magic Christian_
-became a must.
-
-Meanwhile Guy Grand, well in the background, was personally screening
-the applications according to some obscure criteria of his own, and
-apparently he had himself a few laughs in this connection. In the case
-of one application, for example, from a venerable scioness of Roman
-society, he simply scrawled moronically across it in blunt pencil: “Are
-_you_ kidding?!? _No_ wops!” The woman was said to have had a nervous
-breakdown and did later file for a million on defamation. It cost Grand
-a pretty to clear it.
-
-On the other hand, he accepted—or rather, engaged—as passengers, a
-group from a fairly sordid freak show, most of whom could not be left
-untended, along with a few gypsies, Broadway types, and the like, of
-offensive appearance and doubtful character. These, however, were to
-be kept below decks for the first few days out, and, even so, numbered
-only about forty in all, so that a good nine-tenths of the passenger
-list, those on deck when the _Christian_ set sail in such tasteful
-fanfare that Easter morn, were top-drawer gentry and no mistake.
-
-Unique among features of the _Christian_ was its video communication
-system from the bridge to other parts of the ship. Above the fireplace
-in each cabin was a small TV screen and this provided direct visual
-communication with the Captain at the wheel and with whatever other
-activity was going on there, giving as it did a view of almost the
-entire bridge. These sets could be switched _on_ or _off_, but the
-first day they were left _on_ before the passengers arrived, in
-order to spare anyone the embarrassment of not knowing what the new
-gimmick was. So that when passengers entered their cabins now they
-saw at once, there on the screen above the fireplace: the Captain at
-the wheel. Captain Klaus. And for this person, Guy Grand had engaged
-a professional actor, a distinguished silver-haired man whose every
-gesture inspired the deepest confidence. He wore a double row of
-service ribbons on his dark breast and deported himself in a manner
-both authoritative and pleasingly genial—as the passengers saw when he
-turned to face the screen, and this he did just as soon as they were
-all settled and under way.
-
-He was filling his pipe when he turned to camera, but he paused from
-this to smile and touch his cap in easy salute.
-
-“Cap’n Klaus,” he said, introducing himself with warm informality,
-though certainly at no sacrifice to his considerable bearing. “Glad to
-have you aboard.”
-
-He casually picked up a pointer stick and indicated a chart on the
-nearby wall.
-
-“Here’s our course,” he said, “nor’ by nor’east, forty-seven degrees.”
-
-Then he went on to explain the mechanics and layout of the bridge, the
-weather and tide conditions at present, their prospects, and so on,
-using just enough technical jargon throughout all this to show that he
-knew what he was about. He said that the automatic-pilot would be used
-from time to time, but that he personally preferred handling the wheel
-himself, adding good-humoredly that in his opinion “a ship favored men
-to machines.”
-
-“It may be an old-fashioned notion,” he said, with a wise twinkle, “...
-but to me, a ship is a woman.”
-
-At last he gave a final welcome-salute, saying again: “Glad to have you
-aboard,” and turned back to his great wheel.
-
-This contact with the bridge and the fatherly Captain seemed to give
-the passengers an added sense of participation and security; and,
-indeed, things couldn’t have gone more smoothly for the first few hours.
-
-It was in the very early morning that something untoward occurred,
-at about three A.M.—and of course almost everyone was asleep. They
-had watched their screens for a while: the Captain in the cozy bridge
-house, standing alone, pipe glowing, his strong eyes sweeping the black
-water ahead—then they had switched off their sets. There were a few
-people though who were still up and who had their sets on; and, of
-these few, there were perhaps three who happened to be watching the
-screen at a certain moment—when in the corner of the bridge house,
-near the door, there was a shadow, an odd movement ... then suddenly
-the appearance of a sinister-looking person, who crept up behind the
-Captain, hit him on the head, and seized the wheel as the screen
-blacked out.
-
-The people who had seen this were disturbed and, in fact, were soon
-rushing about, rousing others, wanting to go to the bridge and so
-on. And they did actually get up a party and went to the bridge—only
-to be met at the top of the ladder by the Captain himself, unruffled,
-glossing it over, blandly assuring them that nothing was wrong, nothing
-at all, just a minor occurrence. And, of course, back in the cabins,
-there he was on the screen again, Captain Klaus, steady at the helm.
-
-Those three who had seen the outrage, being in such a hopeless
-minority, were thought to have been drunk or in some way out of
-their minds, and were gently referred to ship’s doctor, the mental
-specialist, so the incident passed without too much notice.
-
-And things went smoothly once more, until the next evening—when, in the
-exquisite gaming rooms just off the Marine Lounge, one of the roulette
-croupiers was seen, by several people, to be cheating ... darting his
-eyes about in a furtive manner and then interfering with the bets,
-snatching them up and stuffing them in his pocket, that sort of thing.
-
-It was such an unheard-of outrage that one old duke fainted dead away.
-The croupier was hustled out of the gaming room by Captain Klaus
-himself, who deplored the incident profusely and declared that the next
-dozen spins were on the house, losing bets to remain untouched for
-that time—gracious recompense, in the eyes of a sporting crowd, and
-applauded as such; still, the incident was not one easily forgotten.
-
-Another curious thing occurred when some of the ladies went,
-individually, to visit the ship’s doctor. For the most part they had
-simply dropped around to pick up a few aspirin, sea-sickness pills—or
-merely to have a reassuring chat with the amiable physician. Several of
-these ladies, however, were informed that they looked “rather queer”
-and that an examination might be in order.
-
-“Better safe than sorry,” the doctor said, and then, during the
-examination, he invariably seemed to discover what he termed “a latent
-abrasion”—on the waist, side, hip, or shoulder of the woman—and though
-the abrasion could not be seen, the doctor deemed it required a
-compress.
-
-“Nothing serious,” he explained, “still it’s always wise to take
-precautions.” And so saying he would apply a _huge compress_ to the
-area, a sort of gigantic Band-Aid about a foot wide and several inches
-thick, with big adhesive flaps that went halfway around the body. The
-tremendous bulk of these compresses was a nuisance, causing as they
-did, great deforming bulges beneath the women’s smart frocks. They were
-almost impossible to remove. One woman was seen running about with one
-on her head, like a big white hat.
-
-First lifeboat drill was scheduled for the following morning. Shortly
-before it, Captain Klaus came on the screen and smilingly apologized
-for the inconvenience and gave a leisurely and pleasantly informative
-talk about the drill and its necessity.
-
-“Better safe than sorry,” he said in a genial close to his little talk.
-
-When the drill signal sounded, they all got into life jackets—which
-were the latest thing and quite unlike standard passenger-ship
-equipment—and then, grumbling good-naturedly, they started for their
-boat stations; but an extraordinary thing happened: two minutes after
-they had put them on, the life jackets began inflating in a colossal
-way. Apparently the very act of donning the jacket set off some device
-which inflated it. The extraordinary thing was that each one blew up so
-big that it simply obscured the person wearing it, ballooning out about
-them, above their heads, below their feet, and to a diameter of perhaps
-twelve feet—so that if they were in an open space, such as their
-cabins, the lounge, or on deck, they simply rolled or lolled about on
-the floor, quite hidden from view, whereas if they were in a corridor,
-they were hopelessly stuck.
-
-In any event, almost no one escaped the effects of the faulty life
-jacket; so it was—after they deflated—with a good deal of annoyance
-that they came back to the cabins, quite ready to hear Captain Klaus’
-explanation of what had gone amiss.
-
-Unfortunately though, the foghorn, which had been put to practice
-during the drill, was now evidently jammed. At any rate, it continued
-steadily during the Captain’s after-drill talk and completely shut out
-his voice, so that it was like looking at someone talk behind several
-layers of glass. The Captain himself didn’t seem to realize that he
-wasn’t coming through, and he went on talking for quite a while,
-punctuating his remarks with various little facial gestures to indicate
-a whole gamut of fairly intense feelings about whatever it was he was
-saying.
-
-The business with the foghorn was more serious than at first imagined;
-it continued, blasting without let-up, for the rest of the voyage.
-
-Quite incidental to what was happening during the drill, fifty crew
-members took advantage of the occasion to go around to the cabins,
-lounges, and dining rooms, and to substitute a thin length of balsa
-wood for one leg of every chair, table, and dresser on ship.
-
-When the Captain finished his lengthy and voiceless discourse, he
-smiled, gave an easy salute and left the bridge house. It was about
-this time that all the furniture began to collapse—in half an hour’s
-time there wasn’t one standing stick of it aboard the _Christian_.
-
-Strange and unnatural persons began to appear—in the drawing rooms,
-salons, at the pool. During the afternoon tea dance, a gigantic
-_bearded-woman_, stark naked, rushed wildly about over the floor,
-interfering with the couples, and had to be forcibly removed by ship’s
-doctor.
-
-The plumbing went bad, too; and finally one of the _Christian’s_ big
-stacks toppled—in such a way as to give directly on to ship’s dining
-room, sending oily smoke billowing through. And, in fact, from about
-this point on, the voyage was a veritable nightmare.
-
-Large curious posters were to be seen in various parts of the ship:
-
- SUPPORT MENTAL HEALTH
-
- LET’S KEEP THE CLAP OUT
- OF CHAPPAQUIDDICK
-
-as well as rude slogans, vaguely political, scrawled in huge misshapen
-letters across walls and decks alike:
-
- DEATH TO RICH!
- BLOW UP U.S.!
-
-Due to the strain of untoward events, more than one passenger sought
-solace and reassurance from the problem-counselor, the ship’s
-distinguished doctor.
-
-“Doctor, what _in the name of God_ is going on here!” the frenzied
-passenger would demand.
-
-The doctor would answer with a quizzical smile, arching his brows, only
-mildly censorious. “Fair-weather sailor?” he would gently chide, “...
-hmm? Cross and irritable the moment things aren’t going exactly to suit
-you? Now just what seems to be the trouble?”
-
-“_‘Trouble’!?!_” exclaimed the outraged passenger. “Good Lord, Doctor,
-surely you don’t think my complaint is an ... an unreasonable one?”
-
-The doctor would turn his gaze out to sea, thin fingers pressed beneath
-his chin in a delicate pyramid of contemplation, wistfully abstract for
-a moment before turning back to address the patient frankly.
-
-“Deep-rooted and unreasonable fears,” he would begin in a grand, rich
-voice, “are most often behind our anxieties ...” and he would continue
-in this vein until the passenger fairly exploded with impatience.
-
-“Great Scott, Doctor! I didn’t come here for a lecture on
-_psychology_—I came to find out what _in the name of Heaven_ is going
-on _aboard this ship_!”
-
-In the face of these outbursts however, the doctor almost invariably
-retained his calm, regarding the patient coolly, searchingly, making a
-few careful notes on his pad.
-
-“Now, you say that ‘the life jacket _over inflated_,’ and that you were
-‘stuck in the corridor’—that was your expression, I believe, ‘_stuck in
-the corridor_’—and at that moment you felt a certain _malaise_, so to
-speak. Now, let me ask you _this_....” Or again, on other occasions, he
-might behave eccentrically, his head craned far to one side, regarding
-the patient out of the corners of his eyes, a sly, mad smile on his
-lips which moved in an inaudible whisper, almost a hiss.
-
-Finally, the patient, at the end of his tether, would leap to his feet.
-
-“Well, in the name of God, Doctor, the least you can do is let me have
-some _tranquillizers_!”
-
-But the doctor, as it turned out, was not one given to prescribing
-drugs promiscuously.
-
-“Escape into drugs?” he would ask, wagging his head slowly. “Mask our
-fears in an artificial fog?” And there was always a trace of sadness
-in his smile, as he continued, “No, I’m afraid the trouble is _in
-ourselves_, you see.” Then he would settle back expansively and speak
-with benign countenance. “Running away from problems is scarcely the
-solution to them. I _believe_ you’ll thank me in years to come.” And at
-last he would lean forward in quiet confidence. “Do you mind if I ask
-you a few questions about your ... your _early childhood_?”
-
- * * * * *
-
-When Captain Klaus next appeared on the screen, he looked as though
-he had been sleeping in two feet of water. Completely disheveled, his
-ribbons dangling in unsightly strands, his open coat flapping, his
-unknotted tie strung loosely around his collar, he seemed somewhat
-drunk as well. With a rude wave of his hand he dismissed bridge
-personnel and lurched toward the video screen, actually crashing into
-it, and remaining so close that his image was all distorted.
-
-“_We’ll get the old tub through!_” he was shouting at deafening volume,
-and at that moment he was attacked from behind by a ruffian type who
-was carrying a huge hypodermic and appeared to overpower the Captain
-and inject something into the top of his head, then to seize the wheel,
-wrenching it violently, before the screen went black.
-
-Also, it was learned about this time that because of fantastic
-miscalculation on the part of the ship’s-stores officer, the only food
-left aboard now was potatoes.
-
-Thus did the _Christian_ roar over the sea, through fair weather and
-foul.
-
-Guy Grand was aboard of course, as a passenger, complaining bitterly,
-and in fact kept leading assault parties in an effort to find out, as
-he put it, “What the devil’s going on on the bridge!”
-
-But they were always driven back by a number of odd-looking men with
-guns and knives near the ladder.
-
-“Who the deuce are those chaps?” Grand would demand as he and the
-others beat a hasty retreat along the deck. “I don’t like the looks of
-this!”
-
-Occasionally the communications screen in each of the cabins would
-light up to reveal momentarily what was taking place on the bridge, and
-it was fairly incredible. The bridge house itself now was a swaying
-rubble heap and the Captain was seen intermittently, struggling with
-various assailants, and finally with what actually appeared to be a
-gorilla—the beast at last overpowering him and flinging him bodily out
-of the bridge house and, or so it seemed, into the sea itself, before
-seizing the wheel, which he seemed then to be trying to tear from its
-hub.
-
-It was about this time that the ship, which, as it developed, had
-turned completely around in the middle of the ocean, came back into New
-York harbor under full steam, and with horns and whistles screaming,
-ploughed headlong into the big Forty-Seventh Street pier.
-
-Fortunately no one was injured on the cruise; but, even so, it went
-far from easy with Grand—he had already sunk plenty into the project,
-and just how much it cost him to keep clear in the end, is practically
-anyone’s guess.
-
-
-
-
- XVI
-
-
-“To speak seriously though,” said Guy Grand, “_does_ anyone have news
-of Bill Thorndike? I haven’t had a word in the longest.”
-
-Ginger Horton set her cup down abruptly.
-
-“That ... that damn _nut_!” she said. “_No_ and I _couldn’t_ care less!”
-
-“Who?” asked Esther.
-
-“Dr. Thorndike,” explained Agnes, “that extraordinary dentist whom
-Ginger went to—he and Guy were friends at school together; isn’t that
-right, Guy?”
-
-“Yes, quite good friends too,” said Guy. “Poor fellow, had a nervous
-breakdown or something from what Ginger says. No, I haven’t had a
-word from him in the longest. How was he then, when you last saw him,
-Ginger?”
-
-Grand had made this inquiry any number of times, and then had always
-glossed over Ginger’s account of the incident, as though he could not
-fully take it in.
-
-“The _last time_!” she cried. “Why I only saw him once, of course—on
-_your_ recommendation—and once too often it was too! Good God, don’t
-tell me you’ve forgotten _that_ again? Why he was absolutely insane!
-He said to me, ‘These molars are soft, Mrs. Horton!’ or some such
-ridiculous thing. ‘We’d better get you onto a soft-food regime right
-away!’ he said, and then, without another word about it, while I was
-still leaning back with my mouth open, he dropped a _raw egg_ into my
-mouth and rushed out of the room, waving his arms and yelling at the
-top of his voice. Raving mad!”
-
-“Hmm—not like Bill Thorndike,” said Grand. “First-rate dentist, he used
-to be. You never went back to him then?”
-
-“I _certainly did not_! I went straight to the nearest police station,
-that’s where I went! And reported him!”
-
-Grand frowned a look of mild disapproval.
-
-“I’m afraid that won’t help Bill’s standing with the Association any.”
-
-“Well, I should hope _not_!” said Ginger Horton as strongly as she
-could.
-
-“How Uncle Edward used to love raw eggs!” said Esther. “Do you
-remember, Agnes?”
-
-“It’s hardly the same thing, Esther,” said Agnes.
-
-“Well, he always had them with a sort of sauce,” Esther recalled.
-“Worcestershire sauce, I suppose it was.”
-
-“It could have been some new form of deficiency treatment, of course,
-Ginger,” Agnes said. “I mean if your molars _were_ soft....” But in the
-face of Ginger Horton’s mounting exasperation, she broke off and turned
-to Guy, “What do you think, Guy?”
-
-“Bill always _was_ up-to-the-minute,” Guy agreed. “Always onto the
-latest. Very progressive in school affairs, that sort of thing—oh
-nothing disreputable of course—but, I mean to say, as far as being onto
-the latest in ... dentistry techniques, well I’m certainly confident
-that Bill—”
-
-“He just plopped that raw egg right into my mouth!” said Ginger
-shrilly. “Why I didn’t even know what it was! And that isn’t all—the
-instruments, and _everything_ else there were crazy! There was some
-kind of wooden paddle....”
-
-“Spatula?” prompted Guy helpfully.
-
-“No, _not_ a spatula! Good Heavens! A big wooden oar, about four feet
-long, actually leaning up against the chair.”
-
-“Surely he didn’t use that?” said Agnes.
-
-“But what on earth was it _doing_ there is what I want to know?” Ginger
-demanded.
-
-“Maybe Bill’s taken up boating,” Guy offered but then coughed lightly
-to show the lameness of it, “... never cared for it though in school as
-I remember. _Tennis_, that was Bill’s game—damn good he was too; on the
-varsity his last two years.”
-
-“I simply _cannot_ make you understand what an absolute madman he was,”
-said Ginger Horton. “There was something else on the chair too—a pair
-of _ice tongs_ it looked like.”
-
-“Clamp, I suppose,” murmured Grand.
-
-“‘_Better safe than sorry, eh, Mrs. Horton?_’ he said to me like a
-perfect maniac, and then he said, ‘Now I _don’t_ want you to swallow
-this!’ and he dropped a _raw egg_ into my mouth, grabbed up a lot of
-those weird instruments and rushed around the room, waving them over
-his head, and then out the door, _yelling at the top of his lungs_!”
-
-“May have been called out on an emergency, you see,” said Guy, “happens
-all too often in that business from what I’ve seen of it.”
-
-“What _was_ he saying when he left, Ginger?” Agnes asked.
-
-“_Saying?_ He wasn’t _saying_ anything. He was simply yelling. ‘_Yaahh!
-Yaahh! Yaahh!_’ it sounded like.”
-
-“How extraordinary,” said Agnes.
-
-“_What_ was he saying?” Esther asked of Agnes.
-
-“‘Yaahh, Yaahh,’” said Agnes quietly.
-
-“Not like Bill,” said Guy, shaking his head. “Must have been called out
-on emergency, only thing I can make of it.”
-
-“But surely the receptionist could have explained it all, my dear,”
-said Agnes.
-
-“There _was_ no receptionist, I tell you!” said Ginger Horton irately.
-“There was no one but him—and a lot of fantastic instruments. And the
-chair was odd too! I’m lucky to have gotten out of there alive!”
-
-“Did she swallow the egg?” asked Esther.
-
-“Esther, for Heaven’s sake!”
-
-“What was that?” asked Grand, who seemed not to have heard.
-
-“Esther wanted to know if Ginger had _swallowed_ the egg,” Agnes said.
-
-“Certainly not!” said Ginger. “I spit it right out. Not at first, of
-course; I was in a state of complete shock. ‘I _don’t_ want you to
-swallow this!’ he said when he dropped it in, the maniac, so I just sat
-there in a state of pure shock while he raced around and around the
-room, screaming like a perfect madman!”
-
-“Maybe it wasn’t an egg,” suggested Esther.
-
-“What on earth do you mean?” demanded Ginger, quite beside herself. “It
-certainly _was_ an egg—a raw egg! I _tasted_ it and _saw_ it, and some
-of the yellow got on my frock!”
-
-“And then you filed a complaint with the authorities?” asked Agnes.
-
-“Good Heavens, Agnes, I went straight to the police. Well, he could not
-be found! Disappeared without trace. Raving mad!”
-
-“Bill Thorndike’s no fool,” said Grand loyally, “I’d stake my word on
-that.”
-
-“But _why_ did he disappear like that, Guy?” asked Agnes.
-
-“May have moved his offices to another part of the city, you see,” Guy
-explained, “or out of the city altogether. I know Bill was awfully
-keen for the West Coast, as a matter of fact; couldn’t get enough of
-California! Went out there every chance he could.”
-
-“_No_, he is not _anywhere_ in this country,” said Ginger Horton with
-considerable authority. “There is absolutely no _trace_ of him.”
-
-“Don’t tell me Bill’s chucked the whole thing,” said Grand
-reflectively, “given it all up and gone off to Bermuda or somewhere.”
-He gave a soft tolerant chuckle. “Wouldn’t surprise me too much though
-at that. I know Bill was awfully fond of _fishing_ too, come to think
-of it. Yes, fishing and tennis—that was Bill Thorndike all right.”
-
-
-
-
- XVII
-
-
-“But you just _cannot_ go off like that, Guy,” said Agnes, truly
-impatient with the boy now when he rose to leave. “Surely you shan’t!”
-
-“_Can_ and _must_, my dears,” Guy explained, kissing them both. “Flux,
-motion, growth, change—those are your great life principles. Best keep
-pace while we can.”
-
-He bent forward and took fat Ginger’s hand in his own. “Yes, I’ll be
-moving on, Ginger,” he said with a warm smile for her, expansive now,
-perhaps in anticipation, “pushing down to Canaveral and out Los Alamos
-way!”
-
-“Good Heavens,” said Agnes, “in this dreadful heat? How silly!”
-
-“Always on the go,” purred Esther.
-
-“It’s wise to keep abreast,” said Guy seriously. “I’ll just nip down to
-Canaveral and see what’s shaking on the space-scene, so to speak.”
-
-“Same old six-and-seven, Guy?” teased big Ginger, flashing up at him.
-
-“Well, who can say?” admitted Guy frankly. “These are odd times—are,
-if I may say, times that try men’s souls. Yet each of us does his
-_best_—who can say more?”
-
-“Guy,” said Ginger, squeezing his hand and sparkling up again on one
-monstrous surge of personality, “it _has_ been fun!” Good-byes were her
-forte.
-
-Guy gave a courtly nod, before turning to go, in deference, it seemed,
-to her beauty.
-
-“My dear,” he whispered, with a huskiness that made all the ladies
-tingle, “it has been ... _inspiring_.”
-
- * * * * *
-
-The S.S. _Magic Christian_ was Grand’s last major project—at least it
-was the last to be brought into open account. After that he began to
-taper off. However, he did like “keeping in touch,” as he expressed
-it, and, for one thing, he bought himself a grocery store in New York
-City. Quite small, it was more or less indistinguishable from the
-several others in the neighborhood, and Grand put up a little sign in
-the window.
-
- _New Owner—New Policy
- Big Get-Acquainted Sale_
-
-Grand was behind the counter himself, wearing a sort of white smock—not
-too unlike his big Vanity lab smock—when the store opened that evening.
-
-His first customer was a man who lived next door to the store. He
-bought a carton of Grape-Ade.
-
-“That will be three cents,” said Grand.
-
-“_How much?_” asked the man, with a frown.
-
-“Three cents.”
-
-“Three _cents_? For six Grape-Ade? Are you kidding?”
-
-“It’s our two-for-one Get-Acquainted on Grape-Ade,” said Grand. “It’s
-new policy.”
-
-“Boy, _I’ll_ say it’s new,” said the man. “And how! Three _cents_? Okay
-by me, brother!” He slapped three cents on the counter. “There it is!”
-he said and still seemed amazed when Grand pushed the carton towards
-him.
-
-“Call again,” said Grand.
-
-“That’s some policy all right,” said the man, looking back over his
-shoulder as he started for the door. At the door, however, he paused.
-
-“Listen,” he said, “do you sell it ... uh, you know, by the _case_?”
-
-“Well, yes,” said Grand, “you would get some further reduction if you
-bought it by the case—not too much, of course; we’re working on a
-fairly small profit-margin during the sale, you see and—”
-
-“Oh, I’ll pay the two-for-one all right. Christ! I just wanted to know
-if I could _get_ a case at that price.”
-
-“Certainly, would you like a case?”
-
-“Well, as a matter of fact, I could _use_ more than one case....”
-
-“How many cases could you use?”
-
-“Well, uh ... how many ... how many have you _got_?”
-
-“Could you use a thousand?”
-
-“A _thousand?!?_ A thousand cases of Grape-Ade?”
-
-“Yes, I could give you ... say, ten percent off on a thousand ... and
-at twenty-four bottles to the case, twelve cents a case ... would be
-one hundred and twenty dollars, minus ten percent, would be one hundred
-and eight ... call it one-naught-five, shall we?”
-
-“_No, no._ I couldn’t use a thousand cases. Jesus! I meant, say, _ten_
-cases.”
-
-“That would be a dollar twenty.”
-
-“Right!” said the man. He slapped down a dollar twenty on the counter.
-“Boy, that’s some policy you’ve got there!” he said.
-
-“It’s our Get-Acquainted policy,” said Grand.
-
-“It’s some policy all right,” said the man. “Have you got any other ...
-_specials_ on? You know, ‘two-for-one,’ that sort of thing?”
-
-“Well, most of our items have been reduced for the Get-Acquainted.”
-
-The man hadn’t noticed it before, but price tags were in evidence, and
-all prices had been sharply cut: milk, two cents a quart—butter, ten
-cents a pound—eggs, eleven cents a dozen—and so on.
-
-The man looked wildly about him.
-
-“How about cigarettes?”
-
-“No, we decided we wouldn’t carry cigarettes; since they’ve been
-linked, rather authoritatively, to cancer of the lung, we thought
-it wouldn’t be exactly in the best of taste to sell them—being a
-_neighborhood_ grocery, I mean to say.”
-
-“Uh-huh, well—listen, I’m just going home for a minute now to get a
-sack, or a ... trunk, or maybe a truck ... I’ll be right back ...”
-
-Somehow the word spread through the neighborhood and in two hours the
-store was clean as a whistle.
-
-The next day, a sign was on the empty store:
-
- MOVED TO NEW LOCATION
-
-And that evening, in another part of town, the same thing
-occurred—followed again by a quick change of location. The people who
-had experienced the phenomenon began to spend a good deal of their
-time each evening looking for the new location. And occasionally now,
-two such people meet—one who was at the big Get-Acquainted on West
-4th Street, for example, and the other at the one on 139th—and so,
-presumably, they surmise not only that it wasn’t a dream, but that it’s
-still going on.
-
-And some say it does, in fact, still go on—they say it accounts for the
-strange searching haste which can be seen in the faces, and especially
-the eyes, of people in the cities, every evening, just about the time
-now it starts really getting dark.
-
-
-
-
- [Illustration]
-
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
-
-
-Terry Southern was born in Alvarado, Texas. His first short stories
-were published in Paris in 1949 by _New-Story_ and in 1953 by the
-_Paris Review_. A novel, _Flash and Filigree_, appeared in England in
-1958 and was acclaimed by the _Observer_ as one of the “twenty-one
-outstanding novels of the year.”
-
-Mr. Southern’s short stories have recently been anthologized by David
-Burnett, editor of the _Best American Short Stories_. A portion of _The
-Magic Christian_ received the Vanderbilt Prize for Humorous Fiction
-given in 1959 by the _Paris Review_.
-
-Mr. Southern is married and lives in Connecticut.
-
-
-Transcriber’s Notes:
-
- - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
- - Blank pages have been removed.
- - Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.
-
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-<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The magic Christian, by Terry Southern</p>
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
-at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The magic Christian</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Terry Southern</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 7, 2022 [eBook #69110]</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
- <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Tim Lindell, Robert Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</p>
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGIC CHRISTIAN ***</div>
- <div class="figcenter illowp75 x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" id="cover">
- <div class="covernote">The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</div>
- </div>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter center mb10 large"><b><i>The Magic Christian</i></b></div>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="titlepage mt10 mb10">
- <div><b><i>By the same author</i></b></div>
-
- <div class="gesperrt1 mt3"><b>FLASH AND FILIGREE</b></div>
- </div>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="titlepage mt10 mb10">
- <h1>THE MAGIC CHRISTIAN</h1>
-
- <div class="center xlarge mt10 mb5"><b>TERRY SOUTHERN</b></div>
-
- <img class="illowp10 center" src="images/signet.jpg" alt="">
-
- <div class="mt2"><b>RANDOM HOUSE NEW YORK</b></div>
- </div>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter center mt10"><i>Second Printing</i></div>
-
- <div class="center mt2 mb10">© <i>Copyright, 1959, 1960, by Terry Southern<br>
- All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright<br>
- Conventions. Published in New York by Random House, Inc., and<br>
- simultaneously in Toronto, Canada, by Random House of Canada, Limited.<br>
- Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 60-7681<br>
- Manufactured in the United States of America<br>
- by H. Wolff Book Mfg. Co., Inc.</i></div>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter center large mt10 mb10">TO HENRY AND DIG</div>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter large justify mt10"><i>Little man whip a big man every time if the little man’s in the
- right and keeps a’comin’.</i></div>
-
- <div class="right smcap mt2 mb10">Motto of The Texas Rangers</div>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter justify mt10 mb10">Although this book was basically shaped by certain events, and by
- values otherwise manifest, over the past few years, it is not, in any
- strict sense, a historical novel—and, more particularly, the characters
- within it are not to be identified with any actual persons, either
- living or dead.</div>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter center mb10 large"><b><i>The Magic Christian</i></b></div>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="I">I</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">When not tending New York holdings, Guy Grand was generally, as he
- expressed it, “<em>on the go</em>.” He took cross-country trips by
- train: New York to Miami, Miami to Seattle—that sort of thing—always
- on a slow train, one that made frequent stops. Accommodation on these
- trains is limited, and though he did engage the best, Grand often had
- to be satisfied with a small compartment fitted with scarcely more
- than the essentials of comfort. But he accepted this cheerfully; and
- so today, on a summer afternoon at precisely 2:05, it was with buoyant
- step (considering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> his girth—for, at fifty-three now, he was rather
- stout) that he climbed aboard the first Pullman of the <cite>Portland
- Plougher</cite>, found his compartment, and began the pleasant routine of
- settling in for the long slow journey to New York. As was his habit, he
- immediately rang the porter to bring round a large bottle of Campari
- and a bottle of finely iced water; then he sat down at his desk to
- write business letters.</p>
-
- <p>It was known that for any personal service Grand was inclined to tip
- generously, and because of this there were usually three or four
- porters loitering in the corridor nearby. They kept a sharp eye on the
- compartment door, in case Grand should signal some need or other; and,
- as the train pulled out of the station, they could hear him moving
- about inside, humming to himself, and shuffling papers to and fro on
- his desk. Before the train made its first stop, however, they would
- have to scurry, for Grand’s orders were that the porters should not be
- seen when he came out of his compartment; and he did come out, at every stop.</p>
-
- <p>At the first of these stops, which was not long in occurring, Grand
- went quickly to the adjoining day coach and took a seat by the window.
- There he was able to lean out and observe the activity on the platform;
- he attracted little attention himself, resembling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span> as he did, with his
- pleasant red face, any honest farmer.</p>
-
- <p>From the train window one could see over and beyond the station the
- rest of the small New England town—motionless now in the summer
- afternoon, like a toy mausoleum—while all that seemed to live within
- the town was being skillfully whipped underground and funneled up again
- in swift urgency onto the station platform, where small square cartons
- were unloaded from a central car.</p>
-
- <p>But amidst the confusion and haste on the platform there was one
- recognizable figure; this was the man who sold hotdogs from a box he
- carried strapped to his neck.</p>
-
- <p>“They’re <em>red hot</em>!” he cried repeatedly, walking up and down
- parallel to the train and only a foot from it—while Grand, after a
- minute of general observation, focused all his attention on this
- person; and then, at exactly one minute before departure, he began his
- case with the hotdog-man.</p>
-
- <p>“Red hot!” he shouted; and when the man reached the window, Grand eyed
- him shrewdly for a second, squinting, as though perhaps appraising his
- character, before asking, tight-lipped:</p>
-
- <p>“<em>How much?</em>”</p>
-
- <p>“Twenty cents,” the hotdog-man said hurriedly—for the train was about
- to pull out—“... mustard and relish, they’re red hot!”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span></p>
-
- <p>“Done!” said Grand with a sober nod, and as the train actually began to
- move forward and the hotdog-man to walk rapidly in keeping abreast of
- the window, Guy Grand leaned out and handed him a five-hundred-dollar
- bill.</p>
-
- <p>“Break this?” he asked tersely.</p>
-
- <p>The hotdog-man, in trying to utilize all their remaining time, passed
- the hotdog to Grand and reached into his change pocket before having
- looked carefully at the bill—so that by the time he made out its
- denomination, he was running almost full tilt, grimacing oddly and
- shaking his head, trying to return the bill with one hand and recover
- the hotdog with the other. During their final second together, with the
- hotdog-man’s last overwhelming effort to reach his outstretched hand,
- Grand reached into his own coat pocket and took out a colorful plastic
- animal mask—today it was that of <em>pig</em>—which he quickly donned
- before beginning to gorge the hotdog through the mouth of the mask,
- at the same time reaching out frantically for the bill, yet managing
- somehow to keep it just beyond his fingers’ grasp, and continuing with
- this while the distance between them lengthened, hopelessly, until at
- last the hotdog-man stood exhausted on the end of the platform, still
- holding the five hundred, and staring after the vanishing train.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span></p>
-
- <p>When Grand finally drew himself back from the window and doffed his
- pig mask, it was to face a middle-aged woman across the aisle who was
- twisted halfway around in her seat, observing Grand with a curiosity so
- intense that the instant of their eyes actually meeting did not seem to
- register with her. Then she coughed and glanced away—but irresistibly
- back again, as Guy Grand rose, all smiles, to leave the day coach,
- giving the woman a wink of affectionate conspiracy as he did.</p>
-
- <p>“Just having a laugh with that hot-frank vender,” he explained. “... no
- real harm done, surely.”</p>
-
- <p>He returned to his compartment then, where he sat at the desk sipping
- his Campari—a drink the color of raspberries, but bitter as gall—and
- speculating about the possible reactions of the hotdog-man.</p>
-
- <p>Outside the compartment, even at the far end of the corridor, the idle
- porters could often hear his odd chortle as he stirred about inside.</p>
-
- <p>By the time the train reached New York, Guy Grand had gone through this
- little performance four or five times, curious fellow.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="II">II</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Out of the gray granite morass of Wall Street rises one building like
- a heron of fire, soaring up in blue-white astonishment—<cite>Number 18
- Wall</cite>—a rocket of glass and blinding copper. It is the <cite>Grand
- Investment Building</cite>, perhaps the most contemporary business
- structure in our country, known in circles of high finance simply as
- <cite>Grand’s</cite>.</p>
-
- <p>Offices of <cite>Grand’s</cite> are occupied by companies which deal in
- <em>mutual funds</em>—giant and fantastic corporations whose policies
- define the shape of nations.</p>
-
- <p>August Guy Grand himself was a billionaire. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span> had 180 millions cash
- deposit in New York banks, and this ready capital was of course but a
- part of his gross holdings.</p>
-
- <p>In the beginning, Grand’s associates, wealthy men themselves, saw
- nothing extraordinary about him; a reticent man of simple tastes, they
- thought, a man who had inherited most of his money and had preserved
- it through large safe investments in steel, rubber, and oil. What his
- associates managed to see in Grand was usually a reflection of their
- own dullness: a club member, a dinner guest, a possibility, a threat—a
- man whose holdings represented a prospect and a danger. But this was
- to do injustice to Grand’s private life, because his private life was
- atypical. For one thing, he was the last of the big spenders; and for
- another, he had a very unusual attitude towards <em>people</em>—he spent
- about ten million a year in, as he expressed it himself, “<em>making it
- hot for them</em>.”</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">At fifty-three, Grand had a thick trunk and a large balding
- bullet-head; his face was quite pink, so that in certain half-lights he
- looked like a fat radish-man—though not displeasingly so, for he always
- sported well-cut clothes and, near the throat, a diamond the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span> size of a
- nickel ... a diamond now that caught the late afternoon sun in a soft
- spangle of burning color when Guy stepped through the soundless doors
- of <cite>Grand’s</cite> and into the blue haze of the almost empty street,
- past the huge doorman appearing larger than life in gigantic livery, he
- who touched his cap with quick but easy reverence.</p>
-
- <p>“Cab, Mr. Grand?”</p>
-
- <p>“Thank you no, Jason,” said Guy, “I have the car today.” And with a
- pleasant smile for the man, he turned adroitly on his heel, north
- towards Worth Street.</p>
-
- <p>Guy Grand’s gait was brisk indeed—small sharp steps, rising on the
- toes. It was the gait of a man who appears to be snapping his fingers
- as he walks.</p>
-
- <p>Half a block on he reached the car, though he seemed to have a
- momentary difficulty in recognizing it; beneath the windshield wiper
- lay a big parking ticket, which Grand slowly withdrew, regarding it
- curiously.</p>
-
- <p>“Looks like you’ve got a <em>ticket</em>, bub!” said a voice somewhere
- behind him.</p>
-
- <p>Out of the corner of his eye Grand perceived the man, in a dark summer
- suit, leaning idly against the side of the building nearest the car.
- There was something terse and smug in the tone of his remark, a sort of
- nasal piousness.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span></p>
-
- <p>“Yes, so it seems,” mused Grand, without looking up, continuing to
- study the ticket in his hand. “How much will you eat it for?” he asked
- then, raising a piercing smile at the man.</p>
-
- <p>“How’s that, mister?” demanded the latter with a nasty frown, pushing
- himself forward a bit from the building.</p>
-
- <p>Grand cleared his throat and slowly took out his wallet—a long slender
- wallet of such fine leather it would have been limp as silk, had it not
- been so chock-full of thousands.</p>
-
- <p>“I asked what would you take to <em>eat</em> it? You know....” Wide-eyed,
- he made a great chewing motion with his mouth, holding the ticket up
- near it.</p>
-
- <p>The man, glaring, took a tentative step forward.</p>
-
- <p>“Say, I don’t <em>get</em> you, mister!”</p>
-
- <p>“Well,” drawled Grand, chuckling down at his fat wallet, browsing about
- in it, “simple enough really....” And he took out a few thousand.
- “<em>I</em> have this ticket, as you know, and I was just wondering
- if you would care to <em>eat</em> it, for, say”—a quick glance to
- ascertain—“six thousand dollars?”</p>
-
- <p>“What do you mean, ‘<em>eat it</em>’?” demanded the dark-suited man in a
- kind of a snarl. “Say, what’re you anyway, bub, a <em>wise</em>-guy?”</p>
-
- <p>“‘<em>Wise</em>-guy’ or ‘<em>grand</em> guy’—call me anything you like ...
- as long as you don’t call me ‘<em>late-for-chow!</em>’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span> Eh? Ho-ho.” Grand
- rounded it off with a jolly chortle, but was quick to add, unsmiling,
- “How ’bout it, pal—got a taste for the easy green?”</p>
-
- <p>The man, who now appeared to be openly angry, took another step forward.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Listen</em>, mister ...” he began in a threatening tone, half
- clenching his fists.</p>
-
- <p>“I think I should warn you,” said Grand quietly, raising one hand to
- his breast, “that I am armed.”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Huh?</em>” The man seemed momentarily dumfounded, staring down
- in dull rage at the six bills in Grand’s hand; then he partially
- recovered, and cocking his head to one side, regarded Grand narrowly,
- in an attempt at shrewd skepticism, still heavily flavored with
- indignation.</p>
-
- <p>“Just who do you think you <em>are</em>, Mister! Just what is your
- <em>game</em>?”</p>
-
- <p>“Grand’s the name, easy-green’s the game,” said Guy with a twinkle.
- “Play along?” He brusquely flicked the corners of the six crisp bills,
- and they crackled with a brittle, compelling sound.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Listen</em> ...” muttered the man, tight-lipped, flexing his fingers
- and exhaling several times in angry exasperation, “... are <em>you</em>
- trying ... are you trying to tell ME that you’ll give <em>six thousand
- dollars</em> ... to ... to EAT that”—he pointed stiffly at the ticket in
- Guy’s hand—“to <em>eat</em> that TICKET?!?”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span></p>
-
- <p>“That’s about the size of it,” said Grand; he glanced at his watch.
- “It’s what you might call a ‘limited offer’—expiring in, let’s say,
- <em>one minute</em>.”</p>
-
- <p>“Listen, mister,” said the man between clenched teeth, “if this is a
- gag, <em>so help me</em>....” He shook his head to show how serious he
- was.</p>
-
- <p>“No threats,” Guy cautioned, “or I’ll shoot you in the temple—well,
- what say? Forty-eight seconds remaining.”</p>
-
- <p>“Let’s <em>see</em> that goddamn money!” exclaimed the man, quite beside
- himself now, grabbing at the bills.</p>
-
- <p>Grand allowed him to examine them as he continued to regard his watch.
- “Thirty-nine seconds remaining,” he announced solemnly. “Shall I start
- the <em>big count down</em>?”</p>
-
- <p>Without waiting for the latter’s reply, he stepped back and,
- cupping his hands like a megaphone, began dramatically intoning,
- “<em>Twenty-eight</em> ... <em>twenty-seven</em> ... <em>twenty-six</em> ...”
- while the man made several wildly gesticulated and incoherent remarks
- before seizing the ticket, ripping off a quarter of it with his teeth
- and beginning to chew, eyes blazing.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Stout fellow!</em>” cried Grand warmly, breaking off the count down
- to step forward and give the chap a hearty clap on the shoulder and
- hand him the six thousand.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span></p>
-
- <p>“You needn’t actually eat the ticket,” he explained. “I was just
- curious to see if you had your price.” He gave a wink and a tolerant
- chuckle. “Most of us have, I suppose. Eh? Ho-ho.”</p>
-
- <p>And with a grand wave of his hand, he stepped inside his car and sped
- away, leaving the man in the dark summer suit standing on the sidewalk
- staring after him, fairly agog.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="III">III</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Grand drove leisurely up the East River Drive—to a large and fine old
- house in the Sixties, where he lived with his two elderly aunts, Agnes
- and Esther Edwards.</p>
-
- <p>He found them in the drawing room when he arrived.</p>
-
- <p>“There you are, Guy!” said Agnes Edwards with tart affection, who at
- eighty-six was a year senior to Esther and held the initiative in most
- things between them.</p>
-
- <p>“Guy, Guy, Guy,” exclaimed Esther happily in her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> turn, with a really
- beautiful pink smile for him—but she insisted then upon raising her
- teacup, so that all to be seen now was her brow, softly clouded, as
- ever, in maternal concern for the boy. Both women were terribly,
- chronically, troubled that Guy, at fifty-three, was unmarried—though
- perhaps each, in her way, would have fought against it.</p>
-
- <p>Guy beamed at them from the doorway, then crossed to kiss both before
- going to his big sofa-chair by the window where he always sat.</p>
-
- <p>“We’re just having tea, darling—do!” insisted his Aunt Agnes with
- brittle passion, flourishing her little silver service bell in a smart
- tinkle and presenting her half-upturned face for his kiss—as though to
- receive it perfunctorily, but with eyelids closed and tremoring, one
- noticed, and a second very thin hand which, as in reflex, started to
- rise towards their faces, wavering up, clenched white as the lace at
- her wrists.</p>
-
- <p>“Guy, Guy, Guy,” cried Esther again, sharpening her own gaiety as she
- set her cup down—quickly enough, but with a care that gave her away.</p>
-
- <p>“You will take tea, won’t you, my Guy!” said Agnes, and she conveyed it
- in a glance to the maid who’d appeared.</p>
-
- <p>“Love some,” said Guy Grand, giving his aunts such a smile of fanatic
- brightness that they both squirmed a bit. He was in good spirits now
- after his trip—but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> soon enough, as the women could well attest, he
- would fall away from them, lapse into mystery behind his great gray
- <cite>Financial Times</cite> and <cite>Wall Street Journal</cite> for hours on end:
- distrait, they thought; never speaking, certainly; answering, yes—but
- most often in an odd and distant tone that told them nothing, nothing.</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“Guy ...” Agnes Edwards began, turning her cup in her hand and forcing
- one of the warm playful frowns used by the extremely rich to show the
- degree of seriousness felt.</p>
-
- <p>“Yes, Aunt Agnes,” said Guy unnecessarily, even brightly, actually
- coming forward a bit on his chair, not turning his own cup, but
- fingering it, politely nervous.</p>
-
- <p>“Guy ... you <em>know</em> Clemence’s young man. Well, I <em>think</em>
- they want to get <em>married</em>! and ... oh I don’t know, I was just
- wondering if we couldn’t <em>help</em>. Naturally, I haven’t said a
- thing to her about it—I wouldn’t dare, of course ... but then what’s
- <em>your</em> feeling on it, Guy? Surely there’s something we can do,
- don’t you agree?”</p>
-
- <p>Guy Grand could have no notion what she was talking about, except that
- it was undoubtedly a question<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> of money; but he spoke darkly enough to
- suggest that he was weighing his words with care.</p>
-
- <p>“Why I should think so, yes.”</p>
-
- <p>Agnes Edwards beamed and raised her cup in a gesture both coy and smug,
- then the two women glanced at each other, smiling prettily, almost
- lifting their brows—whatever it was, it was a certain gain all around.</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Grand’s own idea of what he was doing—“making it hot for people”—had
- formed crudely, literally, and almost as an afterthought, when, early
- one summer morning in 1938, just about the time the Spanish Civil War
- was ending, he flew out to Chicago and, within an hour of arrival,
- purchased a property on one of the busiest corners of the Loop. He had
- the modern two-story structure torn down and the debris cleared off
- that day—that very morning, in fact—by a demolition crew of fifty men
- and machines; and then he directed the six carpenters, who had been on
- stand-by since early morning, when they had thrown up a plank barrier
- at the sidewalk, to construct the wooden forms for a concrete vat
- of the following proportions: fifteen feet square, five feet deep.
- This construction was done in an hour and a half, and it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span> seemed that
- the work, except for pouring the concrete, was ended; in fact the
- carpenters had put on their street clothes and were ready to leave
- when, after a moment of reflection, Grand assembled them with a smart
- order to take down this present structure, and to rebuild it, but on
- a two-foot elevation—giving clearance beneath, as he explained to the
- foreman, to allow for the installation of a heating apparatus there.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>That’ll make it hot for them</em>,” he said—but he wasn’t speaking
- to the foreman then, nor apparently to anyone else.</p>
-
- <p>It was mid-afternoon, and collecting from the flux of the swollen
- summer street were the spectators, who hung in bunches at the sturdy
- barrier, gatherings in constant change, impressed in turn by the way
- the great man from the East snapped his commands, expensively dressed
- as he was, shirt turned back at the cuff.</p>
-
- <p>And when the work was going ahead correctly, Grand might give the crowd
- a moment of surveillance from where he stood in the center of the lot,
- finally addressing them, hands cupped to his mouth as if he had to
- shout—though, actually, they were only a few yards away.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Tomorrow</em> ...” he would say, “... <em>back ... tomorrow! Now ...
- getting ... it ... ready!</em>”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span></p>
-
- <p>When an occasional wiseacre could get his attention and attempt some
- joke as to what was going on there beyond the barrier, Grand Guy Grand
- would smile wearily and shake a scolding finger at him.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Now ... getting ... it ... ready</em>,” he would shout slowly, or
- something else equally irrelevant to the wiseacre’s jibe; but no one
- took offense, either because of not understanding or else because of
- the dignity and bearing of the man, and the big diamond he wore at his
- throat.</p>
-
- <p>Another contractor, three workers, a truck of sand and gravel, and
- six sacks of quick-drying cement arrived at the working site at two
- o’clock, but were forced to wait until the new forms were complete.
- Then a sheet of metal was lowered into place and the concrete was
- poured into the forms. Under Grand’s spirited command, it was all so
- speedily done that well before dusk the work was ended, including the
- installation of a great gas burner there, star-shaped with a thousand
- dark jets, like a giant upturned squid stretched beneath the structure.
- It was apparent now that when the board forms were removed, the whole
- would resemble a kind of white stone bath, set on four short columns,
- with a heating apparatus beneath, and small ramps leading up the vat on
- each of its sides.</p>
-
- <p>Before dinner Guy Grand completed arrangements<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> begun earlier in the
- day with the Chicago stockyards: these provided for the delivery of
- three hundred cubic feet of manure, a hundred gallons of urine, and
- fifty gallons of blood, to an address in the suburbs. Grand met them
- there and had the whole stinking mess transferred to a covered dump
- truck he had purchased that morning. These arrangements cost Grand a
- pretty penny, because the stockyards do not ordinarily conserve or sell
- urine, so that it had to be specially collected.</p>
-
- <p>After securing the truck’s cover, Grand climbed into the cab, drove
- back towards the stockyards and parked the truck there, where the
- stench of it would be less noticeable.</p>
-
- <p>Then he took a taxi into town, to the near North Side and had a quiet
- dinner at the Drake.</p>
-
- <p>At nine o’clock, while it was still light, he returned to the working
- site, where he was met by some of the crew, and saw to the removal
- of the board forms and the barrier. He inspected the vat, and the
- burner below—which he tested and found in good working order. Then he
- dismissed the crew and went back to his hotel.</p>
-
- <p>He sat at his desk writing business letters until his thin gold
- wrist-clock sounded three <span class="allsmcap">A.M.</span> Exactly then he put away his
- writing things, freshened himself up, and, just before leaving the
- room, paused<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> near the door and collected a big leather brief case, a
- gas mask, a wooden paddle, a bucket of black paint, and an old, stiff
- paintbrush. He went downstairs and took a cab out to the place where
- he had parked the dump truck. Leaving the cab, he got into the truck
- and drove back to the working site. There he backed the truck carefully
- up one of the ramps and then emptied all that muck into the vat. The
- stench was nearly overpowering, and Grand, as soon as he had parked
- the truck and gotten out of it, was quick to don the gas mask he had
- brought.</p>
-
- <p>Stepping up one of the ramps, he squatted on the parapet of the vat and
- opened the brief case, out of which he began taking, a handful at a
- time, and dropping into the vat, ten thousand one-hundred-dollar bills,
- slowly stirring them in with his wooden paddle.</p>
-
- <p>And he was in this attitude, squatting at the edge of the vat, gas mask
- covering his face, stirring with his paddle and dumping bills into
- the muck, the work only half begun, when a passing police patrol car
- pulled up to investigate the activity and, above all, the stench. But
- before the officers could properly take account, Grand had closed the
- brief case, doffed his mask, given them five thousand dollars each, and
- demanded to be taken at once to their precinct captain. After a few
- hushed words between them, and a shrugging of shoulders, they agreed.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span></p>
-
- <p>At the station, Grand spoke privately with the captain, showing him
- several business cards and explaining that it was all a harmless
- promotion stunt for a new product.</p>
-
- <p>“Naturally my firm is eager to coöperate with the authorities,” he
- said, and handed the captain twenty-five thousand.</p>
-
- <p>And so it was finally agreed that Grand might return to the site and
- proceed, as long as whatever he was doing did not involve criminal
- violence within the precinct. Moreover, while the captain could make no
- definite promise about it, he was attentive enough to Grand’s proposal
- of an additional fifty thousand on the following noon if the police
- would be kept away from the site for a few hours that morning.</p>
-
- <p>“Think it over,” said Grand pleasantly. “Better sleep on it, eh?”</p>
-
- <p>Back at the site, Grand Guy donned his mask again, and dumped the
- remaining contents of the brief case into the vat. Then he stepped
- down, opened the can of paint, gave it good stirring, and finally,
- using his left hand so that what resulted looked childish or
- illiterate, he scrawled across the vat FREE $ HERE in big black letters
- on the sides facing the street.</p>
-
- <p>He climbed up for a final check on the work. Of the bills in the muck,
- the corners, edges, and denomination<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> figures of about five hundred
- were visible. After a moment he stepped down and, half crouching
- beneath the vat, took off his mask and saw to his burners. He did a
- short terse count down and turned the valve full open; then he removed
- the handle so that it could not easily be interfered with. As he
- touched off the match, the thousand flames sprang up, all blue light,
- and broke back doubling on the metal plate, and on the wet concrete—a
- color of sand in summer moonlight: one of those chosen instants, lost
- to childhood, damp places in reflection, surface of cement under
- the earth, the beautifully cool buried places ... the stench became
- unbearable; he stood and quickly donned his mask, turned away from the
- site and walked across the street where he paused at the corner and
- surveyed the whole. Already in the pale eastern light, the moronic
- scrawl, FREE $ HERE, loomed with convincing force, while below the
- thousand flames beat up, blue-white and strangely urgent for this hour
- of morning on a downtown corner of Chicago.</p>
-
- <p>“Say ...” mused Grand, half-aloud, “<em>that’ll</em> make it hot for them
- all right!” And he leaped into the big dump truck and drove like the
- wind back to his hotel. At dawn he caught the plane for New York.</p>
-
- <p>The commotion that occurred a few hours later on that busy corner of
- the Loop in downtown Chicago<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> was the first and, in a sense perhaps,
- the most deliberately literal of such projects eventually to be
- linked with the name of “Grand Guy” Guy Grand, provoking the wrath
- of the public press against him, and finally earning him the label,
- “Eccentric” and again towards the end, “Crackpot.”</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="IV">IV</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“Is Clemence a person?” asked Guy, taking a bit of sweet biscuit now,
- popping it into his mouth.</p>
-
- <p>Aunt Esther raised her hand to conceal a shaming twitter, and Aunt
- Agnes feigned impatience.</p>
-
- <p>“Guy, great silly!” said Agnes. “Really!” Though after a moment she
- softened, to continue:</p>
-
- <p>“Clemence is the new <em>maid</em>! She’s a Catholic girl, Guy—<em>and</em>
- a very nice one, if I may say so. She’s marrying this Jewish boy,
- Sol—how they’ll manage I’m sure I don’t know—I talked to them both,
- I told them that we were Protestants, had always been Protestants,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span>
- and always <em>would</em> be Protestants—but that I didn’t mind! Not
- in the least! ‘Freedom of worship and creed!’ I said. It’s always
- been a principle of <em>my</em> religion. Not so insistent and pushy as
- <em>some</em> I could name! I didn’t tell them <em>that</em>, of course,
- but there you are. Well, <em>she</em> wants a honeymoon in <em>Italy</em>,
- and a visit to the Pope, which I think is terribly sweet—and <em>he</em>
- wants to go to <em>his</em> place in the East, wherever it is; Israel,
- isn’t it? Oh, I don’t say it badly. They’re <em>very</em> nice, Guy—both
- of them as gentle and polite as you please, and ... well, they’ve
- enough money for <em>one</em> of the trips, you see, but <em>not</em> for
- both. I wish we could help them, Guy. I think it would be nice if they
- could go to <em>both</em> of their places, don’t you agree? You remember
- how much I enjoyed Calvin’s chair in Geneva! Of course it isn’t the
- same, but it <em>would</em> be sweet. What’s your feeling on it, Guy?”</p>
-
- <p>“But Guy has always been <em>eager</em> to help in such matters,” Esther
- broke in warmly.</p>
-
- <p>“Thank you, Aunt Esther,” said Guy with soft humility, “I do like to
- think that the record speaks for itself.”</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Guy Grand had owned a newspaper for a while—one of Boston’s popular
- dailies, with a circulation of 900,000.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> When Grand assumed control,
- there was, at first, no change in the paper’s format, nor in its
- apparently high journalistic standards, as Grand stayed on in New York
- on the periphery of the paper’s operations, where he would remain, he
- said, until he “could get the feel of things.”</p>
-
- <p>During the second month, however, French words began to crop up
- unaccountably in news of local interest:</p>
-
- <blockquote>
- <p class="noindent">Boston, Mar. 27 (AP)—Howard Jones, vingt-huit ans, convicted on
- three counts of larceny here, was sentenced this morning to 20–26
- months in Folsom State Prison, Judge Grath of 17th Circuit Court of
- Appeals announced aujourd’hui.</p>
- </blockquote>
-
- <p>Working then through a succession of editors, proofreaders, and
- linotype operators, Grand gradually put forward the policy of
- misspelling the names of cities, islands, and proper nouns in
- general—or else having them appear in a foreign language:</p>
-
- <div class="center">YANKS HIT PARIGI<br>
- MOP-UP AT TERWEEWEE</div>
-
- <p>During the war, when geographic names were given daily prominence in
- the headlines, these distortions<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> served to antagonize the reader and
- to obscure the facts.</p>
-
- <p>The circulation of the paper fell off sharply, and after three months
- it was down to something less than one-twentieth of what it had
- been when Grand took over. At this point a major policy change was
- announced. Henceforth the newspaper would not carry comics, editorials,
- feature stories, reviews, or advertising, and would present only
- the factual news in a straightforward manner. It was called <cite>The
- Facts</cite>, and Grand spent the ransom of a dozen queens in getting at
- the facts of the news, or at least a great many of them, which he had
- printed then in simple sentences. The issues of the first two days or
- so enjoyed a fair sale, but the contents on the whole appeared to be
- so incredible or so irrelevant that by the end of the week demand was
- lower than at any previous phase of the paper’s existence. During the
- third week, the paper had no sale at all to speak of, and was simply
- given away; or, refused by the distributors, it was left in stacks on
- the street corners each morning, about two million copies a day. In the
- beginning people were amused by the sight of so many newspapers lying
- around unread; but when it continued, they became annoyed. Something
- funny was going on—<em>Communist? Atheist? Homosexual? Catholic?
- Monopoly? Corruption? Protestant? Insane? Negro?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> Jewish? Puerto
- Rican? POETRY?</em> The city was filthy. It was easy for people to talk
- about <cite>The Facts</cite> in terms of litter and debris. Speeches were
- made, letters written, yet the issue was vague. The editor of <cite>The
- Facts</cite> received insulting letters by the bagful. Grand sat tight
- for a week, then he gave the paper over exclusively to printing these
- letters; and its name was changed again—<cite>Opinions</cite>.</p>
-
- <p>These printed letters reflected such angry divergence of thought and
- belief that what resulted was sharp dissension throughout the city.
- Group antagonism ran high. The paper was widely read and there were
- incidents of violence. Movements began.</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">At about two <span class="allsmcap">P.M.</span> on June 7th, crowds started to gather in
- Lexington Square near the center of the city. The <em>Jewish</em>,
- <em>Atheist</em>, <em>Negro</em>, <em>Labor</em>, <em>Homosexual</em>, and
- <em>Intellectual</em> groups were on one side—the <em>Protestant</em> and
- <em>American Legion</em> on the other. The balance of power, or so it
- seemed, lay with the doughty <em>Catholic</em> group.</p>
-
- <p>It was fair and windless that day in Boston, and while the groups
- and the groups-within-groups bickered and jockeyed in the center of
- Lexington Square, Guy Grand brought off a <em>tour de force</em>.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span>
- Hovering just overhead, in a radio-equipped helicopter, he directed
- the maneuver of a six-plane squadron of skywriters, much higher, in
- spelling out the mile-long smoke-letter words: F**K YOU ... and this
- was immediately followed by a veritable host of outlandish epithets,
- formulated as insults on the level of group Gestalt: Protestants are
- assholes ... Jews are full of crap ... Catholics are shitty ... and so
- on, <em>ad nauseum</em> actually.</p>
-
- <p>It set the crowd below hopping mad. Grand Guy Grand dropped to about
- a hundred feet, where he canted the plane towards them and opened the
- door to peer out and observe. The crowd, associating the low-flying
- helicopter with the outrageous skywriting going on above, started
- shouting obscenities and shaking their fists.</p>
-
- <p>“You rotten Mick!”</p>
-
- <p>“You dirty Yid!”</p>
-
- <p>“You black bastard!”</p>
-
- <p>That was how the fighting began.</p>
-
- <p>During the Lexington Square Riots, Grand set his plane down to
- twenty-five feet, where he cruised around, leaning out the door,
- expressionless, shouting in loud, slow intonation:</p>
-
- <p>“WHAT’S ... UP? WHAT’S ... UP?”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span></p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">By four o’clock the square was in shambles and all Boston on the brink
- of eruption. The National Guard had to be brought into the city and
- martial law obtained. It was thirty-six hours before order was fully
- restored.</p>
-
- <p>The press made capital of the affair. Investigations were demanded. Guy
- Grand had paid off some big men in order to carry forward the project,
- but this was more than they had bargained for. Back in New York it cost
- him two million to keep clear.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="V">V</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“Yes, I see,” said Guy, clearing his throat, looking with concern at
- the piece of sweet biscuit in his hand, “... certainly. Why don’t you
- ... well, you know, find out how much they need, make out a check, and....”</p>
-
- <p>Aunt Esther covertly twittered again, her eyes bright above the very
- white hand that hid her mouth, and Agnes turned her own face sharply
- away in mock exasperation with the boy.</p>
-
- <p>“Not <em>give</em> them the money, Guy!” Agnes exclaimed.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span> “They
- wouldn’t <em>hear</em> of it, of course—the young man, <em>Sol</em>,
- especially. Surely you know how <em>proud</em> those people are ...
- a defensive-mechanism, I suppose; but there you are, even so!
- <em>No</em>—what I had in mind was to tell them of a <em>stock</em> to buy,
- you see.”</p>
-
- <p>“Right,” said Guy crisply, “then they would take one of the trips
- later, that the idea? But, hold on—if they spend all their money on the
- one trip, how can they buy into the stock in question?”</p>
-
- <p>“Guy!” said his aunt in a voice of ice and pain.</p>
-
- <p>“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” said Grand with perfect candor.</p>
-
- <p>Aunt Esther took refuge behind her kerchief, into her ceaseless
- giggling.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>I mean make it go up and down!</em>” cried Agnes crossly. “Or rather
- <em>down</em> first, then <em>up</em>.”</p>
-
- <p>She regarded him narrowly for a moment, her thinness stretching upwards
- like an angry swan, suspecting perhaps that he was being deliberately
- obtuse.</p>
-
- <p>“A perfect babe in the woods!” she said. “How you manage to hold your
- own at conference table I’m sure I couldn’t imagine!”</p>
-
- <p>“Sorry,” said Grand, unsmiling, following through with the youthful
- gesture of slightly ducking his head for a sip of tea.</p>
-
- <p>Of course it was all largely an act between them.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span></p>
-
- <p>“Name one good stock in which you hold ten thousand shares,” said Agnes
- sharply.</p>
-
- <p>“One good stock ...” repeated Guy Grand, his great brow clouding.</p>
-
- <p>“... that begins with an ‘A’,” said Aunt Esther.</p>
-
- <p>“That begins with an ‘A’?” said Grand, almost incredulous, yet as
- willing as a good-natured child at play.</p>
-
- <p>“Esther!” cried Agnes.</p>
-
- <p>“Well, do you mean <em>exactly</em> ten thousand, or <em>at least</em> ten
- thousand?” asked Guy.</p>
-
- <p>“At least ten thousand,” said Agnes. “And it <em>needn’t</em>,” she
- added, with a straight look to her sister, “begin with an ‘A’!”</p>
-
- <p>“Hmm. Well, how about ‘Abercrombie and Adams’?” said Grand tentatively,
- “there’s a fairly sound—”</p>
-
- <p>“Good,” said Aunt Agnes. “Now then, what if you sold all your shares of
- that? What would happen to the price of it?”</p>
-
- <p>“Take a nasty drop,” said Grand, with a scowl at the thought of it.
- “Might cause a run.”</p>
-
- <p>“There you are then!” cried Agnes. “And Clemence’s young man
- <em>buys</em>—when the price is down, <em>he buys</em>, you see—then the
- <em>next</em> day, you buy back what you sold! I should think it would go
- up again when you buy back what you sold, wouldn’t it?”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span></p>
-
- <p>“Might and might not,” said Grand, somewhat coldly.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Well</em>,” said Agnes, with a terrible hauteur, “you can just
- <em>keep</em> buying until it does!” Then she continued, in softer
- tones, to show her ultimate reasonableness: “Surely you can, Guy. And
- then, you see, when it’s up again, Clemence and her young man will
- <em>sell</em>.”</p>
-
- <p>“Yes,” said Grand with a certain quiet dignity, “but you know, it
- might not look good, that sort of thing, with the Federal Securities
- Commission.”</p>
-
- <p>Agnes’s lips were so closely compressed now that they resembled a
- turtle’s mouth.</p>
-
- <p>“Might not <em>look</em>,” she repeated, making it hollow, her eyes
- widening as though she had lifted a desert rock and seen what was
- beneath it. “<em>Well</em>,” she said with unnerving softness, taking
- a sip of tea to brace herself and even turning to draw on her sister
- with a look of dark significance, “... if all you’re concerned with
- is <em>appearance</em>—then perhaps you aren’t the person I thought you
- were, after all.” And she poured herself another cup.</p>
-
- <p>Grand was stricken with a mild fit of coughing. “Yes,” he was able to
- say at last, “... yes, I see your point, of course. Does bear some
- thinking through though, I must say.”</p>
-
- <p>His aunt, momentarily aghast, had just started to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> speak again, when
- the maid stepped inside the door to announce the arrival of Miss Ginger
- Horton—an extremely fat lady, who entered the room then, wearing an
- immense trapeze sunsuit and carrying her Pekinese.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Guy!</em>” she cried, extending her hand, as he, rising, came
- forward. “How <em>too</em> good to see you!</p>
-
- <p>“Say hello to <em>Guy</em>, my Bitsy!” she shrieked gaily to the dog,
- pointing him at Guy and the others. “Say hello to everybody! There’s
- Agnes and Esther, <em>see</em> them, Bitsy?”</p>
-
- <p>The dog yapped crossly instead, and ran at the nose.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Is</em> Bitsy-witsy sicky?” cooed Miss Horton, pouting now as she
- allowed Guy to slowly escort her towards a chair near the others, he
- maneuvering her across the room like a gigantic river scow. “Hmm? Is my
- Bitsy sicky-wicky?”</p>
-
- <p>“Nothing too serious, I hope,” said Grand with a solicitous frown.</p>
-
- <p>“Just nerves I expect,” said Miss Horton, haughty now, and fairly
- snapping. “The weather is just so ... <em>really abominable</em>, and
- then all the nasty little people about.... Now here’s your Agnes and
- Esther, Bitsy.”</p>
-
- <p>“How very nice to see you, my dear,” said the two elderly women, each
- laying thin fingers on her enormous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> hand. “What an adorable little
- sunsuit! It <em>was</em> kind of you to bring your Bitsy—wasn’t it, Guy?”</p>
-
- <p>“It was extremely kind,” said Guy, beaming as he retreated to his own
- great chair near the window.</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">It was, as a matter of fact, Guy Grand who, working through his
- attorneys, had bought controlling interest in the three largest kennel
- clubs on the eastern seaboard last season; and in this way he had
- gained virtual dominance over, and responsibility for, the Dog Show
- that year at Madison Square Garden. His number-one <em>gérant</em>, or
- front man, for this operation was a Señor Hernandez Gonzales, a huge
- Mexican, who had long been known in dog-fancier circles as a breeder of
- blue-ribbon Chihuahuas. With Grand’s backing however, and over a quick
- six months, Gonzales became the celebrated owner of one of the finest
- kennels in the world, known now not simply for Chihuahuas, but for
- Pekinese, Pomeranians and many rare and strange breeds of the Orient.</p>
-
- <p>It was evident that this season’s show at the Garden was to be a gala
- one—a wealth of new honors had been posted, the prize-money packets
- substantially fattened, and competition was keener than ever. Bright
- young men and wealthy dowagers from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> all over were bringing forward
- their best and favorite pedigrees. Gonzales himself had promised
- a prize specimen of a fine old breed. A national picture magazine
- devoted its cover to the affair and a lengthy editorial in praise of
- this great American benignity, this love of animals—“... in bright and
- telling contrast,” the editorial said, “to certain naïve barbarities,
- <em>e.g.</em>, the Spanish bullfight.”</p>
-
- <p>Thus, when the day arrived, all was as it should be. The Garden was
- festively decked, the spectators in holiday reverence, the lights
- burning, the big cameras booming, and the participants dressed as for a
- Papal audience—though slightly ambivalent, between not wishing to get
- mussed or hairy, and yet wanting to pamper and coo over their animals.</p>
-
- <p>Except for the notable absence of Señor Gonzales, things went smoothly,
- until the final competition began, that between “Best of Breed” for
- the coveted “Best in Show.” And at this point, Gonzales did appear; he
- joined the throng of owners and beasts who mingled in the center of the
- Garden, where it was soon apparent his boast had not been idle—at the
- end of the big man’s leash was an extraordinary dog; he was jet-black
- and almost the size of a full-grown Dane, with the most striking coat
- and carriage yet seen at the Garden show that season. The head was
- dressed somewhat in the manner of a circus-cut<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> poodle, though much
- exaggerated, so that half the face of the animal was truly obscured.</p>
-
- <p>Gonzales joined the crowd with a jaunty smile and flourish not
- inappropriate to one of his eminence. He hadn’t been there a moment
- though before he and the dog were spotted by Mrs. Winthrop-Garde and
- her angry little spitz.</p>
-
- <p>She came forward, herself not too unlike her charge, waddling
- aggressively, and she was immediately followed by several other women
- of similar stamp, along with Pekineses, Pomeranians, and ill-tempered
- miniature chows.</p>
-
- <p>Gonzales bowed with winning old-world grace and caressed the ladies’
- hands.</p>
-
- <p>“What a <em>perfect</em> love he is!” shrieked Mrs. Winthrop-Garde of
- the animal on Gonzales’s leash, and turning to her own, “<em>Isn’t</em>
- he, my darling? <em>Hmm? Hmm?</em> Isn’t he, my precious sweet? And
- what<em>ever</em> is his <em>name</em>?” she cried to Gonzales when her own
- animal failed to respond, but yapped crossly instead.</p>
-
- <p>“He is called ... <em>Claw</em>,” said Gonzales with a certain soft drama
- which may have escaped Mrs. Winthrop-Garde, for she rushed on, heedless
- as ever.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Claude!</em> It’s <em>too</em> delicious—the perfect darling! Say
- <em>hello</em> to Claude, Angelica! Say <em>hello</em> to Claude, my
- fur-flower!”</p>
-
- <p>And as she pulled the angry little spitz forward,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> while it snapped
- and snorted and ran at the nose, an extraordinary thing happened—for
- what this Grand and Gonzales had somehow contrived, and for reasons
- never fathomed by the press, was to introduce in disguise to the Garden
- show that season not a dog at all, but some kind of terrible black
- panther or dyed jaguar—hungry he was too, and cross as a pickle—so that
- before the day was out, he had not only brought chaos into the formal
- proceedings, but had actually destroyed about half the “Best of Breed.”</p>
-
- <p>During the first hour or so, Gonzales, because of his respected
- position in that circle, was above reproach, and all of the incidents
- were considered as being accidental, though, of course, extremely
- unfortunate.</p>
-
- <p>“Too much spirit,” he kept explaining, frowning and shaking his head;
- and, as he and the beast stalked slowly about in the midst of the
- group, he would chide the monster-cat:</p>
-
- <p>“Overtired from the trip, I suppose. Isn’t that it, boy? <em>Hmm?
- Hmm?</em>”</p>
-
- <p>So now occasionally above the yapping and whining, the crowd would hear
- a strange <em>swish!</em> and <em>swat!</em> as Gonzales and the fantastic
- beast moved on, flushing them one by one.</p>
-
- <p>Finally one woman, new to the circle, who did not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> know how important
- Gonzales was, came back with an automatic pistol and tried to shoot the
- big cat. But she was so beside herself with righteous fury that she
- missed and was swiftly arrested.</p>
-
- <p>Gonzales, though, apparently no fool himself, was quick to take this as
- a cue that his work was done, and he gradually retired, so that “Best
- in Show” was settled at last, between those not already eliminated.</p>
-
- <p>Grand later penned a series of scathing articles about the affair:
- “Scandal of the Dog Show!” “Can This Happen Here?” “Is It Someone’s
- Idea of a Joke?” etc., etc.</p>
-
- <p>The bereft owners were wealthy and influential people, more than
- eager to go along with the demand for an inquiry. As quickly as
- witnesses were uncovered, however, they were bought off by Grand or
- his representatives, so that nothing really ever came of it in the
- end—though, granted, it did cost him a good bit to keep his own name clear.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="VI">VI</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“And how was your <em>trip</em>, Guy?” asked Ginger Horton, sniffing a
- bit, just to be on the safe side it seemed.</p>
-
- <p>Guy shrugged.</p>
-
- <p>“Oh, same old six-and-seven, Ginger,” he said.</p>
-
- <p>“I beg your pardon,” interjected his Aunt Agnes smartly.</p>
-
- <p>Esther beamed, truly in league at last with her long-dead favorite
- sister’s only son.</p>
-
- <p>“It means <em>not too good</em>, Agnes,” she said emphatically. “It’s
- an expression used in dice-playing: You ‘come out’—isn’t that right,
- Guy?—on ‘six,’ your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> <em>point</em>, then you throw, in this case, a
- ‘<em>seven</em>,’ which means: <em>no good</em>, <em>you</em> lose.” She
- looked to her Guy. “That’s it, isn’t it, dear?”</p>
-
- <p>“Oh, it’s a <em>gambling</em> expression,” said Agnes Edwards with a
- certain amused complacency, though she must have raised her cup rather
- too hurriedly, for Esther was content merely to beam at Guy.</p>
-
- <p>“Then your trip wasn’t ... <em>too good</em>, is that it?” asked Ginger
- Horton seriously, setting her own cup down squarely, pressing the
- napkin briefly to her lips.</p>
-
- <p>Esther started to answer, but in the end looked to Guy instead.</p>
-
- <p>“Oh, it’s just a manner of speaking,” said Guy Grand easily. “What
- really gives the expression bite, of course, is that <em>six</em> is
- generally an easy point to make, you see, and, well ... but then the
- fact is really, that the ... uh, the <em>national economy</em>, so to
- speak, isn’t in the best of shape just now. Not a buyer’s market at all
- really. A bit bearish as a matter of fact.” He gave a chuckle, looking
- at the Pekinese.</p>
-
- <p>Ginger Horton seized the opportunity to bring the dog into it.</p>
-
- <p>“Well, it’s all over <em>our</em> head, isn’t it, Bitsy? Hmm? Isn’t it
- over your Bitsy-witsy head? Hmmm?”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Bearish</em> ...” Esther began to explain.</p>
-
- <p>“I think we all know what <em>that</em> means, Esther,” said Agnes
- shortly, raising one hand to her throat, her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> old eyes glittering no
- less than the great diamonds she clutched there.</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Evidently Grand liked playing the donkey-man. In any case, he had
- bought himself a large motion-picture house in Philadelphia. The house
- had been losing money badly for six months, so it was natural that the
- manager and his staff, who knew nothing of Grand’s background, should
- be apprehensive over the probable shake-up.</p>
-
- <p>The manager was a shrewd and capable man of many years’ experience
- in cinema management, a man whose position represented for him the
- fruit of a life’s work. He decided that his best move, under the
- circumstances, would be to go to Grand and cheerfully recommend salary
- cuts for all.</p>
-
- <p>During their first conference, however, it was Grand, in his right as
- new owner, who held the initiative throughout.</p>
-
- <p>By way of preliminary, and while the manager sat alertly on the edge of
- a big leather chair, Grand paced the floor of the comfortable office,
- his hands clasped at his back, and a slight frown on his face. Finally
- he stopped in the center of the room and addressed the manager:</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span></p>
-
- <p>“The <em>Chinese</em> have an expression, Mr. ... <em>Mister Manager</em>.
- I believe it occurs in the book of the <cite>I Ching</cite>: “Put your house
- in order,” they say, “<em>that</em> is the first step.””</p>
-
- <p>This brought a flush to the manager’s face and caused him to shift in
- his chair.</p>
-
- <p>“My dad,” said Grand then, and with severe reverence, “pushed out here
- in ... 1920. There were few frontiers open for him at that time. There
- are fewer still ... open-for-us-today!”</p>
-
- <p>He faced the manager and would have let him speak; in fact, by looking
- straight into his face, he invited him to do so, but the man could only
- nod in sage agreement.</p>
-
- <p>“If there is one unexplored territory,” Grand continued, waxing
- expansive now, “one virgin wood alive today in this man’s land of
- ours—it is cinema management! My dad—“Dad Grand”—was a championship
- golfer. That <em>may</em> be why ... now this is only a guess ... but
- that <em>may</em> be why he always favored the maxim: ‘If you want them
- to play your course—don’t put rocks on the green!’”</p>
-
- <p>Grand paused for a minute, staring down at the manager’s sparkling
- shoes as he allowed his great brow to furrow and his lips to purse,
- frantically pensive. Then he shot a question:</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span></p>
-
- <p>“Do you know the story of the Majestic Theatre in Kansas City?”</p>
-
- <p>The manager, a man with thirty years’ experience in the field, who knew
- the story of every theatre in the country, did not know this one.</p>
-
- <p>“In August, 1939, the management of the K.C. Majestic changed hands,
- <em>and</em> policy. Weston seats were installed—four inches wider than
- standard—and ‘a.p.’s,’ admission prices, were cut in half ... and two
- people were to occupy each seat. The new manager, Jason Frank, who died
- of a brain hemorrhage later the same year, had advanced Wyler Publicity
- nine hundred dollars for the catch-phrase, ‘Half the Price, and a
- Chance for Vice,’ which received a wide private circulation.”</p>
-
- <p>Grand broke off his narrative to give the manager a searching look
- before continuing:</p>
-
- <p>“... <em>but</em> it didn’t work, sir! It <em>did not</em> work ... and
- I’ll tell you why: it was a <em>crackpot</em> scheme. A crackpot scheme,
- and rocks on the green! It cost Frank his licence, his health, and in
- this case perhaps his very life.”</p>
-
- <p>Grand paused for effect and crossed to the desk where he took up a
- sheaf of onionskin papers and threshed them about before the manager.
- Each sheet was black with figures.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span></p>
-
- <p>“According to my figures,” he said tersely, “this house will fold in
- nine months’ time unless there is, at minimum, an eight percent climb
- in ‘p.a.’s’—paid admissions.” Here he frowned darkly, let it pass,
- forced a smile, and then flapped his arms a time or two, as he resumed
- speaking, in a much lighter tone now:</p>
-
- <p>“Of course there are a number of ... of <em>possibilities</em> for
- us here ... I have certain plans ... oh granted they’re tentative,
- under wrap, irons in the fire, if you like—but I <em>can</em> tell you
- <em>this</em>: I am retaining you and your staff. We are not ploughing
- the green under. Do you follow? Right. Now I have arranged for
- this increase in your salaries: ten percent. I won’t say it is a
- <em>substantial</em> increase; I say simply: <em>ten percent</em> ... which
- means, of course, that all ... <em>all these figures</em>”—he waved the
- sheaf of papers in a gesture of hopelessness and then dropped them
- into the wastebasket—“will have to be <em>revised</em>! More time lost
- before we know where we stand! Yet that can’t be helped. It <em>is</em> a
- move—and <em>I</em> say it is a move ... in the right direction!”</p>
-
- <p>He spoke to the manager for an hour, thinking aloud, getting the feel
- of things, keeping his hand in, and so on. Then he dismissed him for
- three months’ paid vacation.</p>
-
- <p>Grand’s theatre was one of the city’s largest and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> had first-run
- rights on the most publicized films. In the manager’s absence, things
- proceeded normally for a while; until one night when the house was
- packed for the opening of the smart new musical, <em>Main Street,
- U.S.A.</em></p>
-
- <p>First there was an annoying half-hour delay while extra camp-stool
- seats were sold and set up in the aisles; then, when the house lights
- finally dimmed into blackness, and the audience settled back to enjoy
- the musical, Grand gave them something they weren’t expecting: a cheap
- foreign film.</p>
-
- <p>The moment the film began, people started leaving. In the darkness,
- however, with seats two-abreast choking the aisles, most of them were
- forced back. So the film rolled on; and while the minutes gathered into
- quarter-hours, and each quarter-hour cut cripplingly deep into the
- evening, Grand, locked in the projection room high above, stumbled from
- wall to wall, choking with laughter.</p>
-
- <p>After forty-five minutes, the film was taken off and it was announced
- over the public-address system, and at a volume strength never before
- used anywhere, that a mistake had been made, that this was <em>not</em>
- the new musical.</p>
-
- <p>Shouts of “<em>And how!</em>” came from the crowd, and “<em>I’ll say it’s
- not!</em>” and “<em>You’re telling me! God!</em>”</p>
-
- <p>Then after another delay for rewinding, the cheap<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> foreign film was put
- on again, upside down.</p>
-
- <p>By ten thirty the house was seething towards angry panic, and Grand
- gave the order to refund the money of everyone who wished to pass by
- the box office. At eleven o’clock there was a line outside the theatre
- two blocks long.</p>
-
- <p>From his office above, Grand kept delaying the cashier’s work by
- phoning every few minutes to ask: “How’s it going?” or “What’s up?”</p>
-
- <p>The next day there was a notice on the central bulletin board:</p>
-
- <p>“Rocks on the green! All hands alert!”</p>
-
- <p>It also announced another fat pay-hike.</p>
-
- <p>Into certain films such as <cite>Mrs. Miniver</cite>, Grand made eccentric
- inserts.</p>
-
- <p>In one scene in <cite>Mrs. Miniver</cite>, Walter Pidgeon was sitting at
- evening in his fire-lit study and writing in his journal. He had just
- that afternoon made the acquaintance of Mrs. Miniver and was no doubt
- thinking about her now as he paused reflectively and looked towards
- the open fire. In the original version of this film, he took a small
- penknife from the desk drawer and meditatively sharpened the pencil
- he had been writing with. During this scene the camera remained on
- his <em>face</em>, which was filled with quiet reflection and modest
- hopefulness, so that the intended emphasis of the scene was quite
- clear: his genteel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> and wistfully ambitious thoughts about Mrs. Miniver.</p>
-
- <p>The insert Grand made into this film, was, like those he made
- into others, professionally done, and as such, was technically
- indiscernable. It was introduced just at the moment where Pidgeon
- opened the knife, and it was a three-second close shot of the
- fire-glint blade.</p>
-
- <p>This simple insert misplaced the emphasis of the scene; the fire-glint
- blade seemed to portend dire evil, and occurring as it did early in the
- story, simply “spoiled” the film.</p>
-
- <p>Grand would hang around the lobby after the show to overhear the
- remarks of those leaving, and often he would join in himself:</p>
-
- <p>“What was that part about the <em>knife</em>?” he would demand
- querulously, stalking up and down the lobby, striking his fist into his
- open hand, “... he <em>had</em> that knife ... I thought he was going to
- try and <em>kill</em> her! Christ, I don’t <em>get</em> it!”</p>
-
- <p>In some cases, Grand’s theatre had to have two copies of the film on
- hand, because his alterations were so flagrant that he did not deem it
- wise to project the altered copy twice in succession. This was the case
- with a popular film called <cite>The Best Years of Our Lives</cite>. This
- film was mainly concerned, in its attempt at an odd kind of realism,
- with a young veteran of war, who was an amputee and had metal hooks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span>
- instead of hands. It was a story told quite seriously and one which
- depended for much of its drama upon a straight-faced identification
- with the amputee’s situation and attitude. Grand’s insert occurred
- in the middle of the film’s big scene. This original scene was a
- seven-second pan of the two principal characters, the amputee and his
- pretty home-town fiancée while they were sitting on the family porch
- swing one summer evening. The hero was courting her, in his quiet
- way—and this consisted of a brave smile, more or less in apology, it
- would seem, for having the metal hooks instead of hands—while the young
- girl’s eyes shone with tolerance and understanding ... a scene which
- was interrupted by Grand’s insert: a cut to below the girl’s waist
- where the hooks were seen to hover for an instant and then disappear,
- grappling urgently beneath her skirt. The duration of this cut was less
- than one-half second, but was unmistakably seen by anyone not on the
- brink of sleep.</p>
-
- <p>It brought some of the audience bolt upright. Others the scene affected
- in a sort of double-take way, reacting to it as they did only minutes
- later. The rest, that is to say about one-third of the audience, failed
- to notice it at all; and the film rolled on. No one could believe his
- eyes; those who were positive they had seen something funny in the
- realism there, sat through the film again to make certain—<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span>though,
- of course, the altered version was never run twice in succession—but
- <em>all</em> who had seen were so obsessed by what they had seen, or what
- they imagined they had seen, that they could no longer follow the story
- line, though it was, from that point on, quite as it was intended,
- without incongruity or surprise.</p>
-
- <p>Grand had a good deal of trouble about his alterations of certain films
- and was eventually sued by several of the big studios. You can bet it
- cost him a pretty to keep clear in the end.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="VII">VII</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“My Lord Russell books came today,” said Ginger Horton, suddenly
- dropping her voice to a stage whisper, because the dog in her lap
- seemed to have gone asleep.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Pardon</em>,” said Grand, almost shouting.</p>
-
- <p>Mrs. Horton, dramatically wide-eyed now, raised a finger to her lips.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>I think Bitsy’s asleep</em>,” she cooed, then stole a glance at the
- dog. “Isn’t it <em>too</em> sweet!” she said, lifting her face to the
- others, beaming angelically.</p>
-
- <p>“Oh, it <em>is</em> too sweet!” agreed Agnes and Esther, craning forward
- to see, like ancient things stretching<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> across the sand. “Guy,” hissed
- Agnes, “do come and see!”</p>
-
- <p>“Best not,” said Guy sagely, “might wake it.”</p>
-
- <p>“Guy’s right,” said Ginger Horton, compressing her lips tersely and
- cautioning the two ladies back. “Oh, how cross my Bitsy’d be. You
- <em>are</em> sweet, Guy,” she added, with a piercing smile for him—but
- before he could acknowledge it with one of his own, she let a look of
- great care return to her face.</p>
-
- <p>“I was <em>saying</em> that my Lord Russell books came today.”</p>
-
- <p>“Lord Russell?” Guy inquired genially.</p>
-
- <p>“Laird K. Russell,” murmured Esther in pure wonder as some dear
- forgotten name loomed up to marvel her softly from the far far away.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Bertrand Russell!</em>” exclaimed Agnes sharply, “the philosopher!
- Good heavens, Esther!”</p>
-
- <p>“Not Bertrand Russell,” cried Ginger Horton, “Lord Russell of
- Liverpool. The atrocity books!”</p>
-
- <p>“Good Heavens,” said Agnes.</p>
-
- <p>“Well, do you know what we did?” Ginger Horton demanded. “Bitsy and I
- sat right down and pretended that <em>this ... this ... Thorndike</em>
- had been <em>captured</em> and brought to justice and all those
- atrocities had been done to him! To him and to a lot of other nasty
- little people we could think of!”</p>
-
- <p>“Gracious,” exclaimed Agnes.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span></p>
-
- <p>“Not <em>Bill</em> Thorndike surely?” said Grand, coming forward on his
- chair with a show of concern.</p>
-
- <p>“Oh, it’s just absolutely <em>maddening</em>!” said Ginger Horton. “I
- don’t even want to ... to <em>talk</em> about it. Not in front of Bitsy,
- anyway.”</p>
-
- <p>“The dog?” said Grand. “It’s asleep, isn’t it?”</p>
-
- <p>“Bitsy knows, of course,” said Miss Horton darkly, ignoring this, “and
- only too well!”</p>
-
- <p>“Ginger,” said Agnes, “can you really be so sure of that?”</p>
-
- <p>“Oh, in simply a thousand-thousand ways,” said Ginger Horton.</p>
-
- <p>“Do you remember that young Mr. Laird K. Russell?” asked Esther of
- Agnes in the pause that followed. “He came to our Westport summer ball
- for little Nancy.”</p>
-
- <p>“Great Heavens, Esther, that was over sixty years ago! Surely you don’t
- mean it!”</p>
-
- <p>Esther nodded, her eyes dim with distant marvel, a pale smile on her
- lips.</p>
-
- <p>“Esther, really!”</p>
-
- <p>Ginger Horton sniffed, at no pains to hide her annoyance with this
- change of focus, while Agnes tried to recover the thread.</p>
-
- <p>“Do have more tea, Ginger—and please tell us wherever <em>did</em> you
- get that darling little sunsuit? How perfectly clever it is!”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span></p>
-
- <p>“You <em>are</em> sweet, Agnes,” said Ginger, brightening, yet seeming
- to imply a moment of reproach for Esther and Guy before turning her
- attention to the great pink tent of a sunsuit she was wearing.</p>
-
- <p>“Yes, I think it’s fun, don’t you? Of course Charles did it for me.”</p>
-
- <p>“Simply too adorable!” said Agnes. “Isn’t it, Guy?”</p>
-
- <p>“It’s extremely attractive,” said Guy in most richly masculine and
- persuasive tones, and the ladies beamed all around.</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">One of Guy Grand’s sayings at conference was this:</p>
-
- <p>“Show me the man who’s above picking up bits and pieces—and <em>I’ll</em>
- show <em>you</em>: a fool!”</p>
-
- <p>Just so, Grand himself kept his finger in more than one peripheral pie.
- In 1950 he bought out Vanity Cosmetics, a large and thriving Fifth
- Avenue concern. He surprised staffers at Vanity by bringing in his own
- research chemists, from allied fields. But these staff executives, all
- old-timers themselves, were only waiting for reassurance, and it wasn’t
- long in coming when Grand spoke of fresh blood, new horizons, and
- thinking big.</p>
-
- <p>“You’ve got to look ahead in this man’s game,” he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span> emphasized at first
- conference, “or by jumbo you’re up crap creek without a paddle!”</p>
-
- <p>Granted he spoke harshly, but in his tone was tough jaunty conviction
- and brutal know-how.</p>
-
- <p>“He’s all right,” said one Vanity staffer after the session. “He speaks
- his mind, and devil take the hindmost!”</p>
-
- <p>“Joe, he’s my kinda guy,” another was quick to agree. “... I mean what
- the hell, we’re <em>all</em> out for money—am I right, Joe?”</p>
-
- <p>These regulars though, were more or less cut off from lab contact now,
- as Grand told them he wanted to “go it alone for a bit.”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Just</em> want to see how the land lies,” he said.</p>
-
- <p>He worked tirelessly with his new chemists, himself clad in a great
- white smock, bustling about the lab, seeing to this test and that
- result.</p>
-
- <p>“Back in harness!” he liked to say at conference (for it was his habit
- to go there wearing his smock), and it made the others feel a bit
- inadequate—spic and span as they were in their smart tweeds and clergy
- gray—while the new chief sat stained and pungent from the lab.</p>
-
- <p>“You civies have a soft touch here,” Grand would tweak them—though of
- course they were only too eager now to go to the lab themselves.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span></p>
-
- <p>“You know I wouldn’t mind a crack at the lab,” one of the senior exec’s
- would say with serious mien if he could get Grand aside.</p>
-
- <p>“Yes, I’ll just bet you wouldn’t,” Grand would reply with a glittering
- smile, “and how about a handful of these while you’re at it?” and he
- would flash a fat roll of ten thousands that he could just get into the
- catch-all pocket of his big white smock.</p>
-
- <p>Though the exec might suspect that Grand was speaking symbolically, the
- gambit was always impressive.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Yes, sir</em>,” would be the earnest reply, “I really <em>would</em>
- like a crack at the lab!”</p>
-
- <p>But Grand would grimace oddly and wave a finger at the senior staffer;
- then he would give a thin cackling laugh and fly to his flasks and
- beakers.</p>
-
- <p>“The old boy’s sharp as a razor,” most of them said. “He’s my kinda
- guy.”</p>
-
- <p>What happened in the end was the development of a couple of fairly
- new products. The first was <em>Downy</em>, a combination shampoo and
- soft-set; and it was heralded by a large-scale promotional campaign.
- The formula of <em>Downy</em> was supposedly based on a principle used
- by the Egyptians in the preservation of their dead—though this was
- but vaguely referred to, being simply the scientific springboard for
- the product and thereby catching the endorsement of men in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span> various
- fields, and gaining press coverage beyond mere paid advertisement. The
- main promotional emphasis though was on the social allure and overall
- security it seemed to promise. “<span class="allsmcap">DOWNY</span>,” according to these
- releases, “<em>will make your hair ... softer than the hair of</em> YOUR
- OWN CHILD!”</p>
-
- <p>It was unconditionally guaranteed to do so. These releases went on
- to present certain inductive proofs that the formula of <em>Downy</em>
- had been “Cleopatra’s secret,” that in reality she had been a
- woman of “only average prettiness (<em>which one must never never
- underestimate</em>)” and that she had won her thrones and her men with
- “what is <em>now</em> YOUR OWN ... <span class="gesperrt2">DOWNY</span>.”</p>
-
- <p>The promotional campaign was in progress for quite a while before the
- product was offered to the general buyer, though it had of course
- been used with amazing success for a long time by a number of famous
- beauties, and there were plenty of testimonials to that effect. So that
- when it was finally offered, the sales ran high indeed.</p>
-
- <p>“I think we’ve hit on something here,” said the smock-stained veteran,
- Grand Guy Grand, at conference with the staffers as the market
- tabulations poured in that first morning. “I <em>don’t</em> like to count
- the chickens so to speak, but <em>I think</em> we’ve hit on something
- here ... something that may well spell<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> ‘touchdown’ in the hearts of
- Mr. and Mrs. U.S.A.!”</p>
-
- <p>The others were agreeing wildly, but Grand was quick to show conference
- acumen, “... <em>not</em> count the chickens, I say”—and he raised a
- cautionary finger—“<em>nor</em> put all in <em>one basket!</em>”</p>
-
- <p>And even as he hinted at research for another new product already under
- way, adverse reports about the soft-set began coming in by the carload.
- For what this Grand Guy in his work with the new chemists had contrived
- was a potion that did <em>not</em> soften the hair, after all, but on the
- contrary, made it <em>all stiff and wiry</em>.</p>
-
- <p>As the reports flooded in, along with an avalanche of lawsuits,
- staffers at the conference table grew restive.</p>
-
- <p>“Well, can’t win ’em all,” said Grand with a good loser’s chuckle.
- “Common Zen savvy tells us as much,” and he was content to dismiss the
- product’s failure with this, eager now to get started on something new;
- but as it became ever more apparent that their million-dollar planning
- had gone so terribly wrong, the staffers got panicky.</p>
-
- <p>“We do our best,” said Grand, shaking his head stoically. “No man can
- say more.”</p>
-
- <p>It appeared though that one of the senior execs, a white-haired man of
- about forty-two, might actually jump out the window.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span></p>
-
- <p>Grand, who held the initiative throughout most of the conferences,
- quietly led the man back to the table, and summed up in this way:</p>
-
- <p>“Talk is cheap, gentlemen, and since I’m not one personally to favor
- tired phrases, I <em>think</em> I’ll spare you the grand old maxim about
- ‘spilt milk,’ but I do want to say this: Show me the man who <em>looks
- back</em>—and <em>I’ll</em> show <em>you</em>: a first-rate imbecile!”</p>
-
- <p>This brought conference around, and under Grand’s good guidance, they
- ignored the raging anathema without and looked to the future.</p>
-
- <p>“Our M.R. people have come up with something,” said Grand, “—that’s
- what we pay them for—well, they’ve come up with a couple of consumer
- principles we can kick around here at conference: one, the insatiate
- craving of the public for an <em>absolute</em>; and two, the modern
- failure of monotheism—that is to say, the <em>failure</em> of the notion
- that <em>any absolute</em> can be presented as one separate thing.”</p>
-
- <p>Grand paused to touch his fingers together before him, shooting sharply
- evaluative looks at several staffers nearest before he continued:</p>
-
- <p>“And they’re quite right, of course. We of the ... the extreme
- occident, for right or wrong—and there I’ve said it myself—think in
- <em>dichotomies</em> ... have done so since our very inception. Oneness?
- Never had a chance in this great land of ours! Well, I ask<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> you
- staffers, where does that leave us? Monotheism shot to pieces on the
- one hand—dire craving for an absolute existing on the other. I submit
- to you staffers that the solution establishes itself before our very
- eyes: namely, that an <em>absolute</em>—in any particular field—must be
- presented as a <em>dichotomy</em>! Yes, if one mother company, such as
- our Vanity, could confront the public with a <em>pure dichotomy</em>,
- in any particular product, it would gain virtual monopoly there. Yes,
- and <em>we</em> will present such a dichotomy! Two sides which embrace
- the extremes and meet in the middle! I say people will make their
- choice <em>within</em> the dichotomy presented by the mother company;
- they will not go outside it, because then the issue would become vague
- and the implications of the choice no longer clear and satisfying ...
- <em>satisfying</em> in terms, I mean to say, of the self-orientation for
- which they <em>do</em>, in the last analysis, buy these products at all.
- Are there any dissensions from the view I’ve expressed?”</p>
-
- <p>There were none to speak of and Grand continued briefly:</p>
-
- <p>“Now what we want is one product which we can present in the two
- forms—good and evil, old and new, primitive and civilized—two items
- designed for the same use but presented as completely antithetical,
- both morally and philosophically—not aesthetically, however ...
- packaging will be high-tone<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> and identical, let the departments
- concerned take note ... now do any of you—execs, staffers—know what
- that product might be?”</p>
-
- <p>They did not, but this was evidently just a teaser anyhow, for Grand
- had already selected his product, and the work on it even now was
- under way. It was to be a body deodorant of course—presented, as he
- had suggested, in two forms. The first was traditional, combining
- the clinical and the erotic, offering, as it did, “... <em>Protection
- for Those Most Precious Moments of All—It Cuts Away Body Odor like a
- Knife</em>.” It was technically superior to any others on the market,
- making use of “... liquid glass, harmless plastic sealers ...” and
- so on. It was called <em>Stealth</em>. The second deodorant was based
- on another principle altogether, <em>biology</em>. An ancient wisdom
- revived, it had to do with natural selection among mating animals, and
- did, according to eminent and quoted authorities, rest securely on the
- olfactory motive-response by which animals find and achieve harmonious,
- monogamous relationships. Thus, the second product was designed not
- to obscure the natural body odor but to cleverly assert it. And, in
- M.R. terms, an undeniable correspondence and natural attraction would
- result between appropriate compatible persons. It was called <em>Musk
- and Tallow</em>. An irritant jingle, in stereophonic sound, on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span> the
- high-velocity repetition principle, was to be used: “<em>Don’t Lie
- Fallow—Musk and Tallow!</em>” repeated many many times within a few
- seconds.</p>
-
- <p>It was also decided that owing to the failure of <em>Downy</em>, it would
- be to certain advantage to make a clear break at this point and change
- the name of the mother company—a new name which would embrace both
- aspects of the M.R. postulate; and so it was decided: LADY APHRODITE.</p>
-
- <p>Grand arranged that a number of prominent biologists, physicians,
- philosophers, church representatives, film stars, congresswomen,
- nursery-school teachers, and so on, should come forward in unsolicited
- endorsement of the moral correctness and practicality of the product.</p>
-
- <p>Promotionwise, it did seem to capture the imagination of the public.
- Grand’s contention at conference was that it appealed to the
- “magnificent bohemian strain in the great middle class,” and “to the
- return-to-nature elements dormant within them like a sleeping giant.”</p>
-
- <p>“In offering these two products across this grand land of ours,”
- he said at final conference, “Lady Aphrodite has presented a pure
- dichotomy. At last a satisfactory choice may be made, a side taken, and
- yet <em>each side</em> shall enjoy the security—on this particular issue
- at least—of <em>operating within an absolute</em>.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span> Gentlemen, I say this
- product may well spell ‘home-run’ in the hearts of Mr. and Mrs. U.S.A.!”</p>
-
- <p>Small matter though, for both products were, as it turned
- out, nothing more nor less than some kind of delayed-action
- <em>stench-bomb</em>—hydrogen sulfide or the like—causing a great stench
- and embarrassment to a number of people. Apparently it was simply
- another joke by Grand at their expense, and not altogether in the best
- of taste. At least so the press thought (when they got wind of it) and
- they were down on this Grand and his staffers like the proverbial ton.
- It cost him plenty to clear.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="VIII">VIII</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“And how is our Miss Sally Hastings these days?” Agnes asking this
- genially of Ginger Horton while giving Guy a meaningfully coy
- glance—for she had tried to interest her nephew in the young lady.</p>
-
- <p>“Poor Sally,” said Ginger Horton, putting on her look of extremest
- nonchalance. “She’s become rather tiresome, I’m afraid.”</p>
-
- <p>“That <em>is</em> a shame,” said Agnes. “Such a lovely girl—didn’t you
- think so, Guy?”</p>
-
- <p>“A most charming girl,” said Guy Grand.</p>
-
- <p>“And yet, I must say, <em>you</em> didn’t seem to notice,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> his aunt
- went on, rather severely, “hardly spoke two words all evening—though,
- if I’ve a shred of intuitiveness, she was very much attracted to
- <em>you</em>, Guy.”</p>
-
- <p>“We met later at her place,” Guy explained.</p>
-
- <p>“Guy, you didn’t!” said Agnes in genuine annoyance.</p>
-
- <p>“Yes, of course,” said Guy. “Just for a little tête-à-tête—nothing more
- certainly.”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Well</em>,” said Agnes, taking a long sip of her tea, and pursing
- her lips before speaking again to Ginger, “that <em>is</em> a shame,
- Ginger. And such a <em>clever</em> girl, too; but then I suppose so many
- of them are, aren’t they—young girls, I mean, of her sort? Personally,
- of course, I put <em>quality</em> before <em>cleverness</em>—don’t
- <em>you</em>, Guy?”</p>
-
- <p>“Oh, I should think that goes without saying,” said Guy easily.</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Grand’s entrance into the world of championship boxing, significant
- though it may have been, went completely unnoticed by the savants of
- the press. They continued about their business, promoting the Champ.
- They said the Champ had plenty of heart and moxie, and that while he
- might not be the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span> brightest guy in the whole world, by golly, he was
- nobody’s fool, and pound for pound, he could punch with the best of them.</p>
-
- <p>In the columns they set up hypothetical matches:</p>
-
- <blockquote>
- <p class="noindent">Maybe you’re asking, “Could the Champ have taken the Rock’s
- primeval right-cross?” The answer to that? He <em>could</em>, and he
- could have dished something out to boot! “<em>But</em>,” you want to
- know, “<em>could</em> he have handled the Bomber’s Sunday-one, I mean
- the one that could snap a two-by-four from nine inches!” Look, you
- want me to tell you something? If Champy couldn’t roll that punch,
- you know what he <em>could</em> do? He could just <em>laugh</em> it
- off! “Granted,” you say, “but could the Champ have lasted with Big
- John L., when the chips were down bloody-bare-bone-knuckle in the
- 108th stanza?” You want my answer to that, buddy? Okay, I’ll tell
- you something. I was standing with the Champ and his gray-haired
- Mom one Saturday afternoon on the corner of Darrow and Lex when
- some punk hood comes up and starts slapping Champ’s Mom around.</p>
-
- <p>“You dirty old slut!” he yelled, slapping her around. The Champ’s
- Mom! Can you imagine!?! <em>Well</em>, if you think the American
- heavyweight boxing champion of the world stands idle while some
- cheap runt of a punk roughs up his <em>Mom</em>—<em>you’ve</em> got
- another think coming, Mister! <em>You’d</em> better put on your
- think-cap, Mister! The answer is <em>N</em> ... <em>O</em> ... spells
- “NO!” “Okay,” you say, “so far, so <span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span>hunky-do-ray-me, but could the
- Champ have notched Demetrias—when Demi was swinging with the old
- net and trident, and the Champ was hog-tied?” What? You want my
- answer to that buddy? Okay, just listen. If Champ....</p>
- </blockquote>
-
- <p>The Champ was a national hero. He became a TV personality, and his
- stock in trade was a poignant, almost incredible, ignorance. He was
- good-natured and lovably stupid—and, boy-oh-boy, was he <em>tough</em>!</p>
-
- <p>Well, Grand got through somehow, put his cards on the table (two
- million, tax-free) and made an arrangement whereby the Champ would
- throw the next fight in a gay or effeminate manner and, in fact, would
- behave that way all the time, on TV, in the ring, everywhere—swishing
- about, grimacing oddly, flinching when he struck a match, and so on.</p>
-
- <p>The next big bout was due to go quite differently now. The challenger
- in this case was a thirty-three-year-old veteran of the ring named
- Texas Powell. Tex had an impressive record: 40 wins (25 by K.O.), 7
- losses and 3 draws. He had been on the scene for quite a while and was
- known, or so the press insisted, as a “rugged customer,” and a “tough
- cookie.”</p>
-
- <p>“Tex has got the punch,” they said. “The big <em>if</em> is: Can he
- deliver it? Will he remain conscious long<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span> enough to deliver it?
- <em>There’s</em> your Big If in tonight’s Garden bout!”</p>
-
- <p>Well, the fix was in with Tex too, of course—not simply to carry
- the fight, but to do so in the most flamboyantly homosexual manner
- possible. And finally, a fix—or <em>zinger</em>, as it was called in
- those days—was in with the Commission as well, a precaution taken under
- best advice as it turned out, because what happened in the ring that
- night was so “funny” that the bout might well have been halted at the
- opening bell.</p>
-
- <p>Fortunately, what did happen didn’t last too long. The Champ and the
- challenger capered out from their corners with a saucy mincing step,
- and, during the first cagey exchange—which on the part of each was
- like nothing so much as a young girl striking at a wasp with her left
- hand—uttered little cries of surprise and disdain. Then Texas Powell
- took the fight to the Champ, closed haughtily, and engaged him with a
- pesky windmill flurry which soon had the Champ covering up frantically,
- and finally shrieking, “I can’t <em>stand</em> it!” before succumbing
- beneath the vicious peck and flurry, to lie in a sobbing tantrum on
- the canvas, striking his fists against the floor of the ring—more the
- bad loser than one would have expected. Tex tossed his head with smug
- feline contempt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span> and allowed his hand to be raised in victory—while, at
- the touch, eyeing the ref in a questionable manner.</p>
-
- <p>Apparently a number of people found the spectacle so abhorrent that
- they actually blacked-out.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="IX">IX</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“Ginger ...” Agnes began lightly, “when did you first realize that
- Sally Hastings was perhaps ... well, a bit <em>common</em>?”</p>
-
- <p>“Agnes, it was <em>Bitsy</em> who knew it first,” exclaimed Ginger Horton
- with perfect candor.</p>
-
- <p>“The dog?” asked Grand.</p>
-
- <p>“What <em>can</em> you mean by that, Ginger?” Agnes wanted to know,
- dubious herself, yet casting her nephew a quick and cutting look to
- show where her allegiance lay even so.</p>
-
- <p>“She didn’t really love our Bitsy, Agnes,” said Ginger<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> narrowly, “...
- and Bitsy <em>couldn’t</em> have cared less I assure you!”</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Grand’s work in cinema management and film editing had apparently not
- diminished his strong feeling for dramatic theatre, so that with the
- cultural ascension of television drama, he was all the more keen to
- get, as he put it, “<em>back on the boards</em>.”</p>
-
- <p>“There’s no biz like show biz,” he liked to quip to the other troupers,
- “... oh, we have our ups and downs, heck yes—but I wouldn’t trade one
- whiff of grease paint on opening night, by gosh, for all the darn
- châteaux of France!”</p>
-
- <p>Thus did he enter the field, not nominally of course, but in effect.
- There was at this time a rather successful drama hour on Sunday
- evening. “Our Town Playhouse” it was called and was devoted to serious
- fare; at least the viewers were told it was serious fare—truth to
- tell though, it was by any civilized standard, the crassest sort of
- sham, cant, and weak-kneed pornography imaginable. Grand set about to
- interfere with it.</p>
-
- <p>His arrival was fairly propitious; the production in dress rehearsal
- at that moment was called <cite>All Our Yesterdays</cite>, a drama which,
- according to the sponsors,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> was to be, concerning certain emotions and
- viewpoints, more or less <em>definitive</em>.</p>
-
- <p>Beginning with this production, Grand made it a point that he or his
- representative contact the hero or heroine of each play, while it was
- still in rehearsal, and reach some sort of understanding about final
- production. A million was generally sufficient.</p>
-
- <p>The arrangement between Grand and the leading actress of <cite>All Our
- Yesterdays</cite> was simplicity itself. During final production, that
- is to say, the Sunday-night nation-wide presentation of the play,
- and at the top of her big end-of-the-second-act scene, the heroine
- suddenly turned away from the other players, approached the camera, and
- addressed the viewers, point-blank:</p>
-
- <p>“Anyone who would allow this slobbering pomp and drivel in his home has
- less sense and taste than the beasts of the field!”</p>
-
- <p>Then she pranced off the set.</p>
-
- <p>Half the remaining actors turned to stare after her in amazement, while
- the others sat frozen in their last attitudes. There was a frenzy of
- muffled whispers coming from off-stage:</p>
-
- <p>“What the hell!”</p>
-
- <p>“Cue! Cue!”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Fade it! For Christ’s sake, fade it!</em>”</p>
-
- <p>Then there was a bit of commotion before it was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span> actually faded—one of
- the supporting actors had been trained in Russian methods and thought
- he could improvise the rest of the play, about twelve minutes, so there
- were one or two odd lines spoken by him in this attempt before the
- scene jerkily faded to blackness. A short documentary film about tarpon
- fishing was put on to fill out the balance of the hour.</p>
-
- <p>The only explanation was that the actress had been struck by insanity;
- but even so, front-office temper ran high.</p>
-
- <p>On the following Sunday, the production, <cite>Tomorrow’s Light</cite>, took
- an unexpected turn while the leading actor, in the role of an amiable
- old physician, was in the midst of an emergency operation. His brow was
- knit in concern and high purpose, as the young nurse opposite watched
- his face intently for a sign.</p>
-
- <p>“Dr. Lawrence,” she said, “do you ... do you think you can save Dr.
- Chester’s son?”</p>
-
- <p>Without relaxing his features, the doctor smiled, a bit grimly it
- seemed, before raising his serious brown eyes to her own.</p>
-
- <p>“I’m afraid it isn’t a question of saving <em>him</em>, Miss Nurse—I only
- wish it were—it’s a question of saving my dinner.”</p>
-
- <p>The nurse evidenced a questioning look, just concealing the panic
- beneath it (<em>for he had missed his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> cue!</em>), so, laying aside his
- instruments, he continued, as in explanation:</p>
-
- <p>“Yes, you see, I really think if I speak one more line of this drivel
- I’ll lose my dinner.” He nodded gravely at the table, “... vomit right
- into that incision I’ve made.” He slowly drew off his rubber gloves,
- regarding the astonished nurse as he did so with mild indignation.</p>
-
- <p>“Perhaps that would be <em>your</em> idea of a pleasant Sunday evening,
- Miss Nurse,” he said reproachfully. “Sorry, it <em>isn’t</em> mine!” And
- he turned and strode off the set.</p>
-
- <p>The third time something like this happened, the producer and sponsor
- were very nearly out of their minds. Of course they suspected that a
- rival company was tampering with the productions, bribing the actors
- and so on. Security measures were taken. Directors were fired right
- and left. Rehearsals were held behind locked doors, and there was an
- attempt to keep the actors under constant surveillance, but ... Grand
- always seemed to get in there somehow, with the old convincer.</p>
-
- <p>In the aftermath, some of the actors paid the breach-of-contract fine
- of twenty-five or fifty thousand; others pleaded temporary insanity;
- still others gained a lot of publicity by taking a philosophic stand,
- saying that it was true, they had been overcome<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> with nausea at that
- drivel, and that they themselves were too sensitive and serious for
- it, had too much integrity, moral fiber, etc. With a million behind
- them, none seemed to lack adequate defense arrangements. Those who were
- kicked out of their union usually became producers.</p>
-
- <p>Meanwhile the show went on. People started tuning in to see what new
- outrage would happen; it even appeared to have a sort of elusive comic
- appeal. It became the talk of the industry; the rating soared—but
- somehow it looked bad. Finally the producer and the sponsor of the show
- were put on the carpet before Mr. Harlan, the tall and distinguished
- head of the network.</p>
-
- <p>“Listen,” he said to the sponsor as he paced the office, “we want your
- business, Mr. Levet, don’t get me wrong—but if you guys can’t control
- that show of yours ... well, I mean <em>goddamn</em> it, what’s going on
- over there?” He turned to the producer now, who was a personal friend
- of his: “For Christ’s sake, Max, can’t you get together a <em>show</em>,
- and put it on the way it’s supposed to be without any somersaults? ...
- is <em>that</em> so hard to do?... I mean <em>we</em> can’t have this sort
- of thing going on, <em>you</em> know that, Max, we <em>simply cannot
- have</em>....”</p>
-
- <p>“Listen, Al,” said the producer, a short fat man who rose up and down
- on his toes, smiling, as he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> spoke, “we got the highest Trendex in the
- books right now.”</p>
-
- <p>“Max, goddamn it, I’d have the FCC down on my neck in another
- week—<em>you</em> can’t schedule one kind of hour—have something go
- haywire every time and fill out with something else.... I mean what the
- <em>hell</em> you got over there ... <em>two</em> shows or <em>one</em>, for
- Christ’s sake!”</p>
-
- <p>“We got the top Trendex in the biz, Al.”</p>
-
- <p>“There are some goddamn things that are against the law, Max, and that
- kind of stuff you had going out last week, that ‘<em>I pity the moron
- whose life is so empty he would look at this</em>,’ and that kind of
- crap <em>cannot go out over the air</em>! Don’t you understand that? It’s
- not <em>me</em>, Max, you know that. I wouldn’t give a goddamn if you
- had a ... a <em>mule</em> up there throwing it to some hot broad, I only
- wish we could, for Christ’s sake—but there <em>is a question of lawful
- procedure</em> and....”</p>
-
- <p>“How about if it’s ‘healthy satire of the media,’ Al?”</p>
-
- <p>“... and—<em>what?</em>”</p>
-
- <p>“We got the top of the book, Al.”</p>
-
- <p>“Wait a minute....”</p>
-
- <p>“We got it, Al.”</p>
-
- <p>“Wait a minute, Max, I’m thinking, for Christ’s sake ... ‘healthy
- satire of the media’.... <em>It’s</em> an angle, <em>it’s</em> an angle.
- Jones might buy it ... Jones at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> the FCC ... if I could get to him
- first ... he’s stupid enough to buy it. Okay, it’s an angle, Max—that’s
- all I can say right now ... it’s an angle.”</p>
-
- <p>The critics for the most part, after lambasting the first couple of
- shows as “terrific boners,” sat tight for a while, just to see which
- way the wind was going to blow, so to speak—then, with the rating at
- sky-rocket level, they began to suggest that the show might be worth a
- peek.</p>
-
- <p>“An off-beat sleeper,” one of them said, “don’t miss it.”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>New</em> comedy,” said a second, “a sophisticated take-off on the
- sentimental.”</p>
-
- <p>And another: “Here’s humor at its highest.”</p>
-
- <p>Almost all agreed in the end that it was healthy satire.</p>
-
- <p>After interfering with six or seven shows, Grand grew restive.</p>
-
- <p>“I’m pulling out,” he said to himself, “it may have been good money
- after bad all along.”</p>
-
- <p>It was just as well perhaps, because at the point when the producer and
- sponsor became aware of what was responsible for their vast audience,
- they began consciously trying to choose and shape each drama towards
- that moment of anomaly which had made the show famous. And somehow
- this seemed to spoil it. At any rate it very soon degenerated—back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span> to
- the same old tripe. And of course it was soon back to the old rating
- as well—which, as in the early, pre-Grand days, was all right, but
- nothing, really, to be too proud of.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="X">X</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“Would you like to know why I remember that young Laird K. Russell so
- vividly, Agnes?” Esther was asking.</p>
-
- <p>Ginger Horton sniffed to show unqualified disinterest and murmured
- something to her sleeping Bitsy.</p>
-
- <p>“Esther, you can’t be serious,” said Agnes, turning to the others with
- a brilliant smile. “More tea, anyone?”</p>
-
- <p>“I most certainly <em>would</em> like to know,” said Grand, actually
- coming forward a little on his chair.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span></p>
-
- <p>“Well,” said Esther, “it was because he looked like my father.”</p>
-
- <p>“Esther, really!” cried Agnes.</p>
-
- <p>“I mean <em>our</em> father, of course,” Esther amended. “Yes, Agnes, he
- looked just like the photographs of Poppa as a young man. It struck me
- then, but I didn’t realize it at the time. So perhaps it’s not Laird K.
- Russell I’m remembering, you see, even now, but those photographs. You
- didn’t know him, of course, Guy—he was a truly remarkable man.”</p>
-
- <p>“Young Russell do you mean, or Poppa?” asked Guy.</p>
-
- <p>“Why Poppa, of course—surely you don’t know Laird K. Russell?”</p>
-
- <p>“Esther, in the name of heaven!” cried Agnes. “He’s probably
- <em>dead</em> by now! How <em>can</em> you go on so about the man?
- Sometimes I wonder if you aren’t trying quite deliberately to
- <em>upset</em> me....”</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Speaking of upsets though, Grand upset the equilibrium of a rather
- smart Madison Avenue advertising agency, Jonathan Reynolds, Ltd., by
- secretly buying it—<em>en passant</em>, so to speak—and putting in as
- president a pygmy.</p>
-
- <p>At that time it was rare for a man of this skin-pigmentation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> or
- stature (much the less both) to hold down a top-power post in one of
- these swank agencies, and these two handicaps would have been difficult
- to overcome—though perhaps could have been overcome in due time had the
- chap shown a reasonable amount of savoir-faire and general ability,
- or the promise of developing it. In this case, however, Grand had
- apparently paid the man to behave in an eccentric manner—to scurry
- about the offices like a squirrel and to chatter raucously in his
- native tongue. It was more than a nuisance.</p>
-
- <p>An account executive, for example, might be entertaining an extremely
- important client in his own office, a little tête-à-tête of the very
- first seriousness—perhaps with an emissary of one of the soap-flake
- kings—when the door would burst open and in would fly the president,
- scrambling across the room and under the desk, shrieking pure
- gibberish, and then out he’d go again, scuttling crabwise over the
- carpet, teeth and eyes blazing.</p>
-
- <p>“What in God’s name was that?” the client would ask, looking slowly
- about, his face pocked with a terrible frown.</p>
-
- <p>“Why, that ... that....” But the a.e. could not bring himself to tell,
- not after the first few times anyway. Evidently it was a matter of
- pride.</p>
-
- <p>Later this a.e. might run into one of his friends<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> from another agency,
- and the friend would greet him:</p>
-
- <p>“Say, hear you’ve got a new number one over at J.R., Tommy—what’s the
- chap like?”</p>
-
- <p>“Well, as a matter of fact, Bert....”</p>
-
- <p>“You don’t mean the old boy’s got you on the <em>mat</em> already, Tommy.
- Ha-ha. <em>That</em> what you’re trying to say?”</p>
-
- <p>“No, Bert, it’s ... well I don’t know, Bert, I <em>just don’t know</em>.”</p>
-
- <p>It was a matter of pride, of course. As against it, salaries had been
- given a fairly stiff boost, <em>and</em> titles. If these dapper execs
- were to go to another agency now, it would be at a considerable loss
- of dollars and cents. Most of the old-timers—and the younger ones too,
- actually—had what it took to stick it out there at J.R.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="XI">XI</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“These sweet fluffs <em>are</em> good,” said Ginger Horton, daintily
- taking what was perhaps her ninth cream puff from a great silver tray
- at hand, and giving Guy Grand a most coquettish look.</p>
-
- <p>“Takes one to know one,” said Guy, beaming and rolling his eyes.</p>
-
- <p>Esther twittered, and Agnes looked extremely pleased.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span></p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Grand made quite a splash in the fall of ’58 when he entered the
- “big-car” field with his sports line of Black Devil Rockets, a
- gigantic convertible. There were four models of the Rocket, each
- with a different fanciful name, though, except for the color of the
- upholstery, all four cars were identical. The big convertible was
- scaled in the proportions of an ordinary automobile, but was tremendous
- in size—was, in fact, <em>longer and wider than the largest Greyhound
- Bus in operation</em>.</p>
-
- <p>“THERE’S POWER TO SPARE UNDER THIS BIG BABY’S FORTY-FOOT HOOD!” was a
- sales claim that gained attention.</p>
-
- <p>Fronting the glittering crystal dash were two “racing-cup” seats with
- a distance of ten feet between them, and the big “gang’s-all-here”
- seat in back would accommodate twelve varsity crewmen abreast in roomy
- comfort.</p>
-
- <p>“Buy Yourself One <em>Whale</em> of a Car, Buddy!” read the giant ads.
- “From Stem to Stern She’s a Flat One Hundred Feet! Ladylike Lines on a
- He-Man Hunk of Car!”</p>
-
- <p>Performance figures were generally side-stepped, but a number
- of three-color billboards and full-page ads were headed:
- “<em>Performance?</em> Ask the Fella Behind the Wheel!” and featured, in
- apparently authentic testimonial, one of the Indianapolis speed kings<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span>
- behind the wheel of the mammoth convertible. A larger than average
- man, he was incredibly dwarfed by the immense dimensions of the car.
- His tiny face, just visible at the top of the wheel, was split in a
- grin of insanity, like a toothpaste ad, a madman’s laugh frozen at the
- nightmare peak of hilarity, and it was captioned:</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Getting the feel of this big baby has been one real thrill, believe
- you me!</em>”</p>
-
- <p>The four identical models were shown at a display room on Fifth Avenue,
- and though considered beyond the price range of most, were evidently
- sold. At any rate, on the last day of the exposition they were driven
- away, out and into the streets of mid-town Manhattan during the five
- o’clock rush.</p>
-
- <p>Despite their roominess, power, and road-holding potential, the big
- cars did prove impractical in the city, because their turning-arc—for
- the ordinary 90° change of direction—was greater than the distance
- between the street-angled buildings, so that by five thirty all four
- of the sleek Devil Rockets were wedged at angles across various
- intersections around Columbus Circle, each a barrier to thoroughfare
- in four directions, and causing quite a snarl indeed until cranes and
- derricks could be brought up from the East River to pry the big cars
- out.</p>
-
- <p>New York authorities were quick to respond to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span> flood of protests
- and got out an injunction to prevent Black Devil Rocket Corp. from
- further production.</p>
-
- <p>“Personally,” said one high-ranking city official, in an off-the-record
- remark in defense of the court’s ruling—which was, after all,
- a flagrant infringement on the rights of free enterprise—“...
- <em>personally</em> I frankly think the car is an ugly car and a ...
- a <em>pretentious</em> car, and, as experience has shown us, it is an
- impractical car. I’ll bet it’s plenty expensive to run, too.”</p>
-
- <p>At last account though, Grand—himself fairly well in the background—was
- carrying on, pressing his fight to get the go-ahead and swing into full
- production with the big baby.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="XII">XII</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“You <em>must</em> stay to dinner, Ginger,” said Agnes. “And there
- <em>might</em> be a nice bit of fillet for our Bitsy,” she added
- knowingly. “Do let me tell Cook you will!”</p>
-
- <p>“But, my dear, we simply couldn’t,” said Ginger, casting a look flushed
- with girlish pride down at her own great scanty costume. “What about
- your nigras?”</p>
-
- <p>“Cook and kitchen staff?” said Agnes, genuinely surprised. “Why,
- Ginger, really! But what’s your feeling on it, Guy?”</p>
-
- <p>“Sorry, don’t follow,” said Guy.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span></p>
-
- <p>“Well, Ginger seems to think that our servers might be ... might be....”</p>
-
- <p>“Might be sent straight off their rockers with bestial desire, you
- mean?” asked Grand tersely. “Hmm—Ginger may be right. Better safe than
- sorry in these matters I’ve always said.”</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Guy liked playing the fool, it’s true—though some say there was more
- to his antics than met the eye. At any rate, one amusing diversion
- in which he took a central role himself was when he played <em>grand
- gourmet</em> at the world’s most luxurious restaurants.</p>
-
- <p>Guy would arrive in faultless evening attire, attended by his
- poker-faced valet, who carried a special gourmet’s chair and a large
- valise of additional equipment. The chair, heavily weighted at the
- bottom so it could not be easily overturned, was also fitted with a big
- waist strap which was firmly secured around Grand’s middle as soon as
- he was seated. Then the valet would take from the valise a huge rubber
- bib and attach it to Guy while the latter surveyed the menu in avid
- conference with a bevy of hosts—the maître d’, the senior waiter, the
- wine steward, and at least one member of the chef’s staff.</p>
-
- <p>Guy Grand was the last of the big spenders and, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span> such, a great
- favorite at these restaurants; due to his eccentric behavior during the
- meal however, the management always took care to place him at a table
- as decentralized as possible—on the edge of the terrace, in a softly
- lit alcove, or, preferably, at a table entirely obscured by a canopy
- arrangement which many restaurants, after his first visit, saw fit to
- have on hand for Guy’s return.</p>
-
- <p>Following the lengthy discussion to determine the various courses, the
- waist strap was checked, and Guy would sit back in his chair, rubbing
- his hands together in sophisticated anticipation of the taste treats to
- come.</p>
-
- <p>When the first course did arrive, an extraordinary spectacle would
- occur. At the food’s very aroma, Grand, still sitting well back from
- the table, as in fanatical self-restraint, would begin to writhe
- ecstatically in his chair, eyes rolling, head lolling, saliva streaming
- over his ruddy jowls. Then he would suddenly stiffen, his face a mask
- of quivering urgency, before shouting: “<em>Au table!</em>” whereupon he
- would lurch forward, both arms cupped out across the table, and wildly
- scoop the food, dishes and all, towards his open mouth. Following
- this fantastic clatter and commotion—which left him covered from the
- top of his head to his waist with food—the expressionless valet would
- lean forward and unfasten the chair<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> strap, and Guy would bolt from
- the table and rush pell-mell towards the kitchen, covered and dripping
- with food, hair matted with it, one arm extended full length as in a
- congratulatory handshake, shouting at the top of his voice:</p>
-
- <p>“<i lang="fr">MES COMPLIMENTS AU CHEF!</i>”</p>
-
- <p>Upon his return to the table, he would be strapped into the chair
- again, hosed-down by a little water pump from the valet’s case, and
- dried with a big towel; then the performance would be repeated with
- each course.</p>
-
- <p>Restaurants who used a special canopy to conceal Grand from the other
- diners did so at considerable risk, because at the moment of completing
- each course he would bolt for the kitchen so quickly that, unless
- the waiters were extremely alert and dexterous in pulling aside the
- canopy, he would bring the thing down on his head and, like a man in a
- collapsed tent, would flail about inside it, upsetting the table, and
- adding to the general disturbance, or worse, as sometimes did happen,
- he might regain his feet within the canopy and careen blindly through
- the plush restaurant, toppling diners everywhere, and spreading the
- disturbance—and, of course, if he ever reached the kitchen while still
- inside the canopy, it could be actually calamitous.</p>
-
- <p>The open-mouthed astonishment of waiters, diners<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> and others who were
- witness to these scenes was hardly lessened by the bits of bland
- dialogue they might overhear between the maître d’, who was also in on
- the gag, and the valet.</p>
-
- <p>“Chef’s <em>Béarnaise</em> pleased him,” the maître d’ would remark
- soberly to the valet, “I could tell.”</p>
-
- <p>The valet would agree with a judicious nod, as he watched Grand
- storming through the restaurant. “He’s awful keen tonight.”</p>
-
- <p>“In the <em>Béarnaise</em>,” the maître d’ would suddenly confide in
- an excited whisper, “the peppercorns were <em>bruised</em> merely by
- dropping them!” And the two men would exchange dark knowing glances at
- this revelation.</p>
-
- <p>By the last course Grand would be utterly exhausted, and the exquisite
- dessert would invariably prove too much for his overtaxed senses.
- At the first taste of it, he would go into a final tantrum and then
- simply black out. He always had to be carried from the restaurant on a
- stretcher, leaving waiters and diners staring agape, while the maître
- d’ stood respectfully by the door with several of his staff.</p>
-
- <p>“Boy, was that guy ever <em>nuts</em>! Huh?” a wide-eyed young waiter
- would exclaim as he stood with the maître d’, gazing after the
- departing figures. But the latter would appear not to have heard.</p>
-
- <p>“The last of the <em>grand gourmets</em>,” he would sigh,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> and there was
- always a trace of wistful nostalgia in his face when he turned back
- from the door. “No, sir, they don’t make taste buds like <em>that</em>
- any more.”</p>
-
- <p>Connivance with the maître d’s of these top restaurants was an
- expensive affair, and there was a shake-up in more than one veteran
- staff due to it. Those who lost their jobs though were usually in a
- position to open fairly smart restaurants of their own—assuming, of
- course, they didn’t care to buy the one from which they were fired.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="XIII">XIII</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“In <em>literature</em>, of course,” Ginger Horton was saying, “the
- <em>best</em> writing comes out of the <em>heart</em>, and <em>not</em> the
- <em>head</em>!”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>I’ll</em> buy that!” agreed Guy Grand, coming forward on his big
- chair in ready interest, his voice going a bit taut with feeling as he
- continued:</p>
-
- <p>“For <em>my</em> money the best ... the <em>very best</em> darn writing is
- done right out of the old guts, by God!” And he gave his budding paunch
- a short slap to strengthen his meaning.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span></p>
-
- <p>“Good Heavens,” said Esther crouching forward into a sea of giggles.</p>
-
- <p>“And <em>no rewrite</em>!” said Guy strongly, “... right out of the old
- guts onto the goddamn paper!”</p>
-
- <p>“Guy!” exclaimed Agnes, “really!” It was well known that Ginger Horton
- <em>did</em> write—wrote unceasingly—relentless torrents of a deeply
- introspective prose.</p>
-
- <p>“Sorry,” muttered Grand, sitting back again, “get a bit carried away
- sometimes, I expect.”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Feeling and passion!</em>” agreed Ginger Horton in a shriek.
- “Of course most of the nasty little people around don’t feel a
- <em>thing</em>! <em>Not a single thing!</em>”</p>
-
- <p>“Interesting you should bring that up,” said Guy, reaching in his coat
- pocket and withdrawing a small memo-book, which he thumbed through as
- he continued:</p>
-
- <p>“Fellow I met on the train—I won’t mention his name if you don’t mind,
- because the thing is still pretty much on the drawing board, so to
- speak ... but I can tell you <em>this</em>: he’s one of the top-brass
- along ‘Publishers’ Row’—well, we got to talking, one thing and another,
- and he offered to let me in on a new scheme of his. How sound it is I
- <em>don’t</em> know, but he’s willing to let me in on the ground floor—at
- <em>second-story prices</em>, of course—” added Guy with a good-natured
- chuckle. “And <em>there’s</em> your old six-and-seven<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> again, but, still
- and all, that’s to be expected in the investment game. Well, his
- scheme—and I’d like to put out a feeler on it—is to issue a series of
- Do-It-Yourself Portables ... the <cite>Do-It-Yourself Shakespeare</cite>, the
- <cite>D.H. Do-It-Yourself Lawrence</cite>, and so on.”</p>
-
- <p>“What on earth—” Ginger began crossly.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>His</em> idea,” said Guy, “—and I don’t pretend to know how sound
- it is—is to issue the regular texts of well-known works, with certain
- words, images, bits of dialogue, and what have you, left <em>blank</em>
- ... just spaces there, you see ... which <em>the reader fills in</em>.”</p>
-
- <p>“Well, I never—” said Ginger irately.</p>
-
- <p>“Oh yes, here we are,” said Grand, evidently finding the place he was
- looking for in the memo-book, “Yes, now here’s some of his promotional
- copy ... rough draft, mind you ... let’s see, yes, this is for Kafka’s
- <cite>Do-It-Yourself Trial</cite>. Goes like this:</p>
-
- <blockquote>
- <p class="noindent">‘Now you too can experience that same marvelous torment of
- ambiguity and haunting glimpse of eternal beauty which tore this
- strange artist’s soul apart and stalked him to his very grave!
- Complete with optional imagery selector, master word table and
- <em>writer’s-special</em> ball-point pen, thirty-five cents.’”</p>
- </blockquote>
-
- <p>Ginger Horton made a gurgling sound of anger preparatory to speaking,
- but Guy was quick to press on:</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span></p>
-
- <p>“And here we are for the <cite>Look Homeward (Yourself) Angel</cite>:</p>
-
- <blockquote>
- <p class="noindent">‘Hey there, reader-writer—how would you like to spew your entrails
- right out onto a priceless Sarouk carpet?!? Huh? Right in the
- middle of somebody’s living room with everyone watching? Huh? Well,
- by golly, you <em>can</em>, etcetera, etcetera.’</p>
- </blockquote>
-
- <p>“As I say, it’s rough-draft copy, of course—needs tightening up,
- brightening up—but what’s your feeling on it, Ginger? Think it might
- spell ‘blast-off’ in the hearts of Mr. and Mrs. Front Porch?”</p>
-
- <p>“What? Well I wouldn’t put a ... a <em>single cent</em> into it!” said
- Ginger with considerable emphasis.</p>
-
- <p>“Oh it’s just too dreadful, Guy,” exclaimed Agnes. “You mustn’t.”</p>
-
- <p>“Hmm. I suppose you’re right,” said Guy, “... hard to say really.
- <em>Might</em> catch on—might not ... just wanted to put out a feeler or
- two on it. Always best to keep an open mind in the investment game.”</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Grand had a bit of fun when he engaged a man to smash crackers with a
- sledge-hammer in Times Square.</p>
-
- <p>The stout fellow arrived with his gear—a box of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> saltine crackers and
- a sixty-pound sledge—at precisely 9 <span class="allsmcap">A.M.</span> and “set up shop,”
- as Guy expressed it, just outside the subway entrance on Forty-Second
- Street, the busiest thoroughfare in the world at this particular hour.</p>
-
- <p>Dressed in khaki and wearing a tin hat, the curious man forged his way
- through the deluge of people pouring out of the subway, and then in
- the very midst of the surging throng, opened the brass-studded pouch
- attached to his belt, extracted a single saltine cracker, and stooped
- over to place it carefully on the sidewalk.</p>
-
- <p>“Watch yourself!” he shouted as he stood up, gesturing impatiently.
- “Keep clear! Mind your step!” And then, raising the hammer to shoulder
- height, he brought it down in one horrendous blow on the cracker—not
- only smashing it to dust, but also producing several rather large
- cracks in the sidewalk.</p>
-
- <p>Within a few minutes the area was swollen with onlookers—all but the
- nearest of whom had to crane their heads wildly or leap up and down to
- get a glimpse of the man in the tin hat now as he squatted to examine
- the almost invisible dust of the cracker. “Sure mashed it, didn’t it?”
- he muttered, as to himself, in a professional manner.</p>
-
- <p>“What’d he say?” demanded several people urgently of those near the
- operation.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span></p>
-
- <p>“Said it ‘sure <em>mashed</em> it,’” someone explained.</p>
-
- <p>“‘<em>Mashed</em> it’?” snorted another. “Boy, you can say <em>that</em>
- again!”</p>
-
- <p>Guy Grand was on the scene as well, observing the diverse comments and
- sometimes joining in.</p>
-
- <p>“Hey, how come you doin’ that?” he asked directly of the man in the tin
- hat.</p>
-
- <p>The man laid out another cracker, placing it with great care.</p>
-
- <p>“This?” he said, standing and raising the big sledge. “Oh, this is all
- technical.”</p>
-
- <p>“What’s he say?”</p>
-
- <p>“Says it’s technical.”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>What?</em>”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Technical.</em>”</p>
-
- <p>“Yeah, well, what’s that he’s hitting with the hammer? What is that? It
- looks like a <em>cracker</em>.”</p>
-
- <p>“Naw, what’d he hit a <em>cracker</em> for—you kiddin’?”</p>
-
- <p>“Boy, look how that sledge busts up the sidewalk! Man, that’s some
- <em>sledge</em> he’s got there!”</p>
-
- <p>Within a very short time indeed, the gathering had spilled over into
- the street, interfering with the traffic there and causing the tough
- Forty-Second Street cop to wade growling into the heart of the crowd.
- “Okay, break it up!” he kept saying. “Shove off!” And when he reached
- the center where the operation was being carried out, he stood for a
- long while with his cap<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span> pushed back on his head, hands on hips, and a
- nasty frown on his face, as he watched the man in the tin hat smash a
- few more crackers with the giant sledge.</p>
-
- <p>“Are you workin’ for the <em>city</em>, bud?” he finally asked in an
- irate voice.</p>
-
- <p>“That’s right,” said the tin-hat man without looking up. “City
- planning. This is technical.”</p>
-
- <p>“Yeah,” said the cop, “well, you sure picked a hell of a place to do
- it, that’s all I got to say.” Then, adjusting his cap, he started
- pushing at the crowd.</p>
-
- <p>“Okay, let’s keep movin’!” he shouted. “Break it up here! Get on to
- work! This is technical—<em>shove off!</em>”</p>
-
- <p>Diversion is at a premium at this hour however, and the crowd was not
- to be dispersed so easily. After a while the hoses had to be brought.
- When the ruse was discovered, Grand had a spot of bother clearing it.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="XIV">XIV</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“Perhaps Ginger could slip into one of your things,” suggested Guy.</p>
-
- <p>Esther childishly covered her mouth to hide a laugh, and darted glances
- of mischief and glee at the others, while Agnes drew in her breath
- before speaking:</p>
-
- <p>“I’m afraid we do <em>not</em> take the same size, Guy!”</p>
-
- <p>Agnes, thin as a whip, was perhaps a size nine; Ginger’s great size
- must have been well into the sixties.</p>
-
- <p>Ginger, too, shook her head emphatically.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span></p>
-
- <p>“Charles would simply die if I wore a frock he hadn’t done!” she said.</p>
-
- <p>“Has Charles done any chemises for you?” Guy inquired.</p>
-
- <p>“I <em>wanted</em> Charles to do some little Roman chemises for me,
- Guy,” Ginger confided. “I think I have the fullness for them—well, it
- would have meant giving up all my little feminine frills and laces, of
- course, and Charles simply would not hear of it! He said it would be a
- perfect <em>crime</em>—and he does so love to work with his laces, Guy, I
- simply didn’t have the heart! But then what’s your feeling on it, Guy?”
- she asked finally, giving a Carmenesque toss of her head.</p>
-
- <p>“Charles <em>could</em> be right, of course,” said Guy, after allowing it
- a moment’s thought.</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">Grand gave a bit of a shock to the British white-hunters along the
- Congo (as well as to a couple of venerable old American writers who
- were there on safari at the time) when he turned up in a major hunting
- expedition with a 75-millimeter howitzer.</p>
-
- <p>“She throws a muzzle-velocity of twelve thousand f.p.s.,” Grand liked
- to quip. “She’ll stop anything on this continent.”</p>
-
- <p>Ordinarily used by the French Army as an artillery<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span> fieldpiece, the big
- gun, stripped of all but its barrel, chamber, and firing mechanism,
- still weighed well over a hundred and fifty pounds.</p>
-
- <p>“She’ll stop anything that moves,” Guy would say, “—including a
- surfaced <em>whale</em>.”</p>
-
- <p>Grand had three natives carry the giant gun, while he, wearing a huge
- cushion-device around his stomach and a pith helmet so enormous that
- half his face was concealed beneath it, sauntered jauntily alongside,
- speaking knowledgeably to other members of the party about every aspect
- of firearms and big-game hunting.</p>
-
- <p>“A spot of bother in Kenya bush the other day,” he would say, “the big
- cat took two of our best boys.” Then he would give his monstrous weapon
- an affectionate pat and add knowingly, “—the cat changed her tune when
- she’d had a taste of the old seventy-five! Yessir, this baby carries a
- real <em>wallop</em>, you can bet your life on that!”</p>
-
- <p>About once an hour, Grand would stop and dramatically raise his hand,
- bringing the entire safari to a halt, while he and one of his trusty
- natives (heretofore known as the “best guide in Central Africa”) would
- sniff the air, nostrils flared and quivering, eyes a bit wild.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>There’s cat in the bush</em>,” Guy would say tersely, and while
- the rest of the party looked on in pure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> amazement, Grand, big helmet
- completely obscuring his sight, would take up the huge gun and,
- staggering under its weight, brace it against the great cushion at his
- stomach, and blindly fire one of the mammoth shells into the bush,
- blasting a wide swath through the tall grass and felling trees as
- though they were stalks of corn. The recoil of the weapon would fling
- Grand about forty feet backwards through the air where he would land in
- a heap, apparently unconscious.</p>
-
- <p>“The baby packs a man-sized recoil,” Guy would say later. “The
- Mannlicher, of course, is nothing more than a <em>toy</em>.”</p>
-
- <p>Due to the extreme noise produced by the discharge of the 75, any
- actual game in the area was several miles away by the time the
- reverberations were stilled—so that these safaris would often go from
- start to finish without ever firing a shot, other than the occasional
- big boom from Grand’s 75.</p>
-
- <p>African hunting expeditions are serious and expensive affairs, and this
- kind of tomfoolery cost Grand a pretty penny. It did provide another
- amusing page for his memory book though—and the old native guides
- seemed to enjoy it as well.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="XV">XV</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“Hold on, here’s a bit of news,” said Guy then, suddenly brightening in
- his big chair and smartly slapping the newspaper spread across his lap.
- The banner read:</p>
-
- <div class="center">PRESIDENT ASKS NATION FOR FAITH<br>
- IN GIANT SPACE PROGRAM<br>
- Jackass Payload Promised</div>
-
- <p>He read it aloud in sonorous tones, but Ginger pooh-poohed the claim.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span></p>
-
- <p>“Probably one of these teeny-weeny Mexican burros!” she cried. “Jackass
- indeed!” She was a notorious foe of the administration.</p>
-
- <p>“I <em>wouldn’t</em> underestimate our Mister Uncle Sambo if I were you,”
- cautioned Guy, raising a rather arch look for Ginger and the others.</p>
-
- <p>“Why those Mexican burros are no bigger than a minute!” Ginger insisted.</p>
-
- <p>“Ginger’s right,” put in Agnes sharply, donning her spectacles—as she
- almost invariably did when taking political issue with Guy—to peer down
- at him then over the top of them, her face pinched and testy. “It would
- make a good deal more sense to send <em>that</em> great ninny up into
- space!” She flung back her head in a veritable cackle of delight at the
- idea. “I say blast that whole pack of ninnies right out into fartherest
- outer space!”</p>
-
- <p>Grand laid his paper aside.</p>
-
- <p>“I <em>don’t</em> think I’m an intolerant person,” he said quietly, but
- with considerable feeling, as he rose to his feet, “nor one of hasty
- opinion—but, in times like these, when the very <em>mettle</em> of this
- nation is in the crucible, I say that brand of talk is not far short
- of <em>damnable treason</em>!” Still glowering, he did a funny little
- two-step and ended in a smart salute. “I’m afraid I’ll not be staying
- for dinner myself, by the way,” he added matter-of-factly.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span></p>
-
- <p>“Guy, I simply will <em>not</em> hear of it!” cried cross Agnes,
- snatching her glasses from her nose and fixing the man with a terrible
- frown. “Surely you <em>shall</em> stay!”</p>
-
- <p>“Guy, Guy, Guy,” keened Esther, wagging her dear gray head, “always on
- the go.”</p>
-
- <p>“Yes, only wish I <em>could</em> stay,” agreed Guy sadly. “Best push on
- though—back to harness, back to grind.”</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">It was along towards the end though that Grand achieved, in terms of
- public outrage, his <i lang="fr">succès d’estime</i>, as some chose to call it,
- when he put out to sea in his big ship, the <cite>S.S. Magic Christian</cite>
- ... the ship sometimes later referred to as “The Terrible Trick Ship
- of Captain Klaus.” Actually it was the old <cite>Griffin</cite>, a passenger
- liner which Grand bought and had reconditioned for about fifty million.</p>
-
- <p>A vessel of 30,000 tons, the <cite>Christian</cite> had formerly carried some
- eleven-hundred-odd passengers. Grand converted it into a one-class
- ship, outfitted to accommodate four hundred passengers, in a style and
- comfort perhaps unknown theretofore outside princely domains of the
- East. Each cabin on the <cite>Christian</cite> was a palace in miniature;
- the appointments were so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span> lavish and so exquisitely detailed that
- they might better be imagined than described. All the cabins were of
- course above deck and outside, each with a twenty-foot picture window
- and French doors to a private patio commanding a magnificent expanse
- of sea and sky. There were fine deep rugs throughout each suite and
- period-furnishings of first account, private bars, chaise longues,
- log-burning fireplaces, king-sized beds (canopy optional), an adjoining
- library-den (with a set of the <cite>Britannica</cite> and the best in smart
- fiction), tape recorders, powder rooms, small Roman bath and steam
- cabinet. Walls were generally in a quiet tone of suede with certain
- paneling of teak and rosewood.</p>
-
- <p>Ship’s dining room was styled after Maxim’s in Paris whose staff had
- been engaged to prepare the meals and to serve them with inconspicuous
- grace against a background of soft music provided by the Juilliard
- String Quartette. The balance of ship’s appointments were in harmonious
- key—there was, for example, a veritable jewel box of a theatre, seating
- just four hundred, fashioned in replica of the one in the Monte Carlo
- Casino; and the versatile repertory group, Old Vic Players, were on
- stand-by for two shows a day.</p>
-
- <p>Ship’s doctor, aside from being an able physician, was also a
- top-flight mental specialist, so that Problem-Counseling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span> was available
- to the passengers at all hours.</p>
-
- <p>But perhaps the most carefully thought-out nicety of the
- <cite>Christian</cite> was its principal lounge, the Marine Room—a large
- room, deep below decks, its wall (that which was part of ship’s hull)
- glassed so that the passengers sat looking out into the very heart of
- the sea. An ocean-floor effect was maintained by the regular release of
- deep-sea creatures from a water-line station near the bow, and through
- the use of powerful daylight kliegs there was afforded a breath-taking
- panorama—with giant octopi, huge rainbow-colored ray, serpents, great
- snowy angelfish, and fantastic schools of luminous tetra constantly
- gliding by or writhing in silent majestic combat a few feet from the
- relaxed passengers.</p>
-
- <p>Though the <cite>Magic Christian</cite> received its share of prevoyage
- hullabaloo (<cite>Life</cite> magazine devoted an issue to photographs,
- enthusiastically captioned), its only form of paid advertisement was
- a simple announcement of its sailing date, which appeared in <cite>The
- Times</cite> and in the <cite>National Geographic</cite>. The fare was not
- mentioned (though <cite>Life</cite> had said it was “about five thousand”)
- and the announcement was set in small heavy type, boxed with a very
- black border. “For the Gracious Few ...” it opened, and went on to
- state in a brief, restrained apology, that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span> <em>not everyone</em> could
- be accepted, that applications for passage on the <cite>Christian</cite> were
- necessarily carefully screened, and that those who were refused should
- not take offense. “Our criteria,” it closed, “may <em>not</em> be yours.”</p>
-
- <p>Ship’s quarters were not shown until the applicant had been accepted,
- and then were shown by appointment.</p>
-
- <p>The ship was christened by the Queen of England.</p>
-
- <p>All of this had a certain appeal and the applications poured in. More
- than a few people, in fact, were <em>demanding</em> passage on the
- <cite>Christian</cite>’s first voyage. Those just back from holiday were
- suddenly planning to go abroad again; scores rushed home simply to
- qualify and make the trip. For many, the maiden voyage of the <cite>Magic
- Christian</cite> became a must.</p>
-
- <p>Meanwhile Guy Grand, well in the background, was personally screening
- the applications according to some obscure criteria of his own, and
- apparently he had himself a few laughs in this connection. In the case
- of one application, for example, from a venerable scioness of Roman
- society, he simply scrawled moronically across it in blunt pencil: “Are
- <em>you</em> kidding?!? <em>No</em> wops!” The woman was said to have had
- a nervous breakdown and did later file for a million on defamation. It
- cost Grand a pretty to clear it.</p>
-
- <p>On the other hand, he accepted—or rather, engaged—as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> passengers, a
- group from a fairly sordid freak show, most of whom could not be left
- untended, along with a few gypsies, Broadway types, and the like, of
- offensive appearance and doubtful character. These, however, were to
- be kept below decks for the first few days out, and, even so, numbered
- only about forty in all, so that a good nine-tenths of the passenger
- list, those on deck when the <cite>Christian</cite> set sail in such tasteful
- fanfare that Easter morn, were top-drawer gentry and no mistake.</p>
-
- <p>Unique among features of the <cite>Christian</cite> was its video
- communication system from the bridge to other parts of the ship. Above
- the fireplace in each cabin was a small TV screen and this provided
- direct visual communication with the Captain at the wheel and with
- whatever other activity was going on there, giving as it did a view
- of almost the entire bridge. These sets could be switched <em>on</em>
- or <em>off</em>, but the first day they were left <em>on</em> before the
- passengers arrived, in order to spare anyone the embarrassment of not
- knowing what the new gimmick was. So that when passengers entered their
- cabins now they saw at once, there on the screen above the fireplace:
- the Captain at the wheel. Captain Klaus. And for this person, Guy Grand
- had engaged a professional actor, a distinguished silver-haired man
- whose every gesture inspired the deepest confidence. He wore a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span> double
- row of service ribbons on his dark breast and deported himself in a
- manner both authoritative and pleasingly genial—as the passengers saw
- when he turned to face the screen, and this he did just as soon as they
- were all settled and under way.</p>
-
- <p>He was filling his pipe when he turned to camera, but he paused from
- this to smile and touch his cap in easy salute.</p>
-
- <p>“Cap’n Klaus,” he said, introducing himself with warm informality,
- though certainly at no sacrifice to his considerable bearing. “Glad to
- have you aboard.”</p>
-
- <p>He casually picked up a pointer stick and indicated a chart on the
- nearby wall.</p>
-
- <p>“Here’s our course,” he said, “nor’ by nor’east, forty-seven degrees.”</p>
-
- <p>Then he went on to explain the mechanics and layout of the bridge, the
- weather and tide conditions at present, their prospects, and so on,
- using just enough technical jargon throughout all this to show that he
- knew what he was about. He said that the automatic-pilot would be used
- from time to time, but that he personally preferred handling the wheel
- himself, adding good-humoredly that in his opinion “a ship favored men
- to machines.”</p>
-
- <p>“It may be an old-fashioned notion,” he said, with a wise twinkle, “...
- but to me, a ship is a woman.”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span></p>
-
- <p>At last he gave a final welcome-salute, saying again: “Glad to have you
- aboard,” and turned back to his great wheel.</p>
-
- <p>This contact with the bridge and the fatherly Captain seemed to give
- the passengers an added sense of participation and security; and,
- indeed, things couldn’t have gone more smoothly for the first few hours.</p>
-
- <p>It was in the very early morning that something untoward occurred, at
- about three <span class="allsmcap">A.M.</span>—and of course almost everyone was asleep.
- They had watched their screens for a while: the Captain in the cozy
- bridge house, standing alone, pipe glowing, his strong eyes sweeping
- the black water ahead—then they had switched off their sets. There were
- a few people though who were still up and who had their sets on; and,
- of these few, there were perhaps three who happened to be watching the
- screen at a certain moment—when in the corner of the bridge house,
- near the door, there was a shadow, an odd movement ... then suddenly
- the appearance of a sinister-looking person, who crept up behind the
- Captain, hit him on the head, and seized the wheel as the screen
- blacked out.</p>
-
- <p>The people who had seen this were disturbed and, in fact, were soon
- rushing about, rousing others,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> wanting to go to the bridge and so
- on. And they did actually get up a party and went to the bridge—only
- to be met at the top of the ladder by the Captain himself, unruffled,
- glossing it over, blandly assuring them that nothing was wrong, nothing
- at all, just a minor occurrence. And, of course, back in the cabins,
- there he was on the screen again, Captain Klaus, steady at the helm.</p>
-
- <p>Those three who had seen the outrage, being in such a hopeless
- minority, were thought to have been drunk or in some way out of
- their minds, and were gently referred to ship’s doctor, the mental
- specialist, so the incident passed without too much notice.</p>
-
- <p>And things went smoothly once more, until the next evening—when, in the
- exquisite gaming rooms just off the Marine Lounge, one of the roulette
- croupiers was seen, by several people, to be cheating ... darting his
- eyes about in a furtive manner and then interfering with the bets,
- snatching them up and stuffing them in his pocket, that sort of thing.</p>
-
- <p>It was such an unheard-of outrage that one old duke fainted dead away.
- The croupier was hustled out of the gaming room by Captain Klaus
- himself, who deplored the incident profusely and declared that the next
- dozen spins were on the house, losing bets to remain untouched for
- that time—gracious recompense, in the eyes of a sporting crowd, and
- applauded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> as such; still, the incident was not one easily forgotten.</p>
-
- <p>Another curious thing occurred when some of the ladies went,
- individually, to visit the ship’s doctor. For the most part they had
- simply dropped around to pick up a few aspirin, sea-sickness pills—or
- merely to have a reassuring chat with the amiable physician. Several of
- these ladies, however, were informed that they looked “rather queer”
- and that an examination might be in order.</p>
-
- <p>“Better safe than sorry,” the doctor said, and then, during the
- examination, he invariably seemed to discover what he termed “a latent
- abrasion”—on the waist, side, hip, or shoulder of the woman—and though
- the abrasion could not be seen, the doctor deemed it required a
- compress.</p>
-
- <p>“Nothing serious,” he explained, “still it’s always wise to take
- precautions.” And so saying he would apply a <em>huge compress</em> to
- the area, a sort of gigantic Band-Aid about a foot wide and several
- inches thick, with big adhesive flaps that went halfway around the
- body. The tremendous bulk of these compresses was a nuisance, causing
- as they did, great deforming bulges beneath the women’s smart frocks.
- They were almost impossible to remove. One woman was seen running about
- with one on her head, like a big white hat.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span></p>
-
- <p>First lifeboat drill was scheduled for the following morning. Shortly
- before it, Captain Klaus came on the screen and smilingly apologized
- for the inconvenience and gave a leisurely and pleasantly informative
- talk about the drill and its necessity.</p>
-
- <p>“Better safe than sorry,” he said in a genial close to his little talk.</p>
-
- <p>When the drill signal sounded, they all got into life jackets—which
- were the latest thing and quite unlike standard passenger-ship
- equipment—and then, grumbling good-naturedly, they started for their
- boat stations; but an extraordinary thing happened: two minutes after
- they had put them on, the life jackets began inflating in a colossal
- way. Apparently the very act of donning the jacket set off some device
- which inflated it. The extraordinary thing was that each one blew up so
- big that it simply obscured the person wearing it, ballooning out about
- them, above their heads, below their feet, and to a diameter of perhaps
- twelve feet—so that if they were in an open space, such as their
- cabins, the lounge, or on deck, they simply rolled or lolled about on
- the floor, quite hidden from view, whereas if they were in a corridor,
- they were hopelessly stuck.</p>
-
- <p>In any event, almost no one escaped the effects of the faulty life
- jacket; so it was—after they deflated—with a good deal of annoyance
- that they came back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> to the cabins, quite ready to hear Captain Klaus’
- explanation of what had gone amiss.</p>
-
- <p>Unfortunately though, the foghorn, which had been put to practice
- during the drill, was now evidently jammed. At any rate, it continued
- steadily during the Captain’s after-drill talk and completely shut out
- his voice, so that it was like looking at someone talk behind several
- layers of glass. The Captain himself didn’t seem to realize that he
- wasn’t coming through, and he went on talking for quite a while,
- punctuating his remarks with various little facial gestures to indicate
- a whole gamut of fairly intense feelings about whatever it was he was
- saying.</p>
-
- <p>The business with the foghorn was more serious than at first imagined;
- it continued, blasting without let-up, for the rest of the voyage.</p>
-
- <p>Quite incidental to what was happening during the drill, fifty crew
- members took advantage of the occasion to go around to the cabins,
- lounges, and dining rooms, and to substitute a thin length of balsa
- wood for one leg of every chair, table, and dresser on ship.</p>
-
- <p>When the Captain finished his lengthy and voiceless discourse, he
- smiled, gave an easy salute and left the bridge house. It was about
- this time that all the furniture began to collapse—in half an hour’s
- time there wasn’t one standing stick of it aboard the <cite>Christian</cite>.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span></p>
-
- <p>Strange and unnatural persons began to appear—in the drawing rooms,
- salons, at the pool. During the afternoon tea dance, a gigantic
- <em>bearded-woman</em>, stark naked, rushed wildly about over the floor,
- interfering with the couples, and had to be forcibly removed by ship’s
- doctor.</p>
-
- <p>The plumbing went bad, too; and finally one of the <cite>Christian’s</cite>
- big stacks toppled—in such a way as to give directly on to ship’s
- dining room, sending oily smoke billowing through. And, in fact, from
- about this point on, the voyage was a veritable nightmare.</p>
-
- <p>Large curious posters were to be seen in various parts of the ship:</p>
-
- <div class="center">SUPPORT MENTAL HEALTH<br><br>
- LET’S KEEP THE CLAP OUT<br>
- OF CHAPPAQUIDDICK</div>
-
- <p class="noindent">as well as rude slogans, vaguely political, scrawled in huge misshapen
- letters across walls and decks alike:</p>
-
- <div class="center">DEATH TO RICH!<br>
- BLOW UP U.S.!</div>
-
- <p>Due to the strain of untoward events, more than one passenger sought
- solace and reassurance from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span> the problem-counselor, the ship’s
- distinguished doctor.</p>
-
- <p>“Doctor, what <em>in the name of God</em> is going on here!” the frenzied
- passenger would demand.</p>
-
- <p>The doctor would answer with a quizzical smile, arching his brows, only
- mildly censorious. “Fair-weather sailor?” he would gently chide, “...
- hmm? Cross and irritable the moment things aren’t going exactly to suit
- you? Now just what seems to be the trouble?”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>‘Trouble’!?!</em>” exclaimed the outraged passenger. “Good Lord,
- Doctor, surely you don’t think my complaint is an ... an unreasonable
- one?”</p>
-
- <p>The doctor would turn his gaze out to sea, thin fingers pressed beneath
- his chin in a delicate pyramid of contemplation, wistfully abstract for
- a moment before turning back to address the patient frankly.</p>
-
- <p>“Deep-rooted and unreasonable fears,” he would begin in a grand, rich
- voice, “are most often behind our anxieties ...” and he would continue
- in this vein until the passenger fairly exploded with impatience.</p>
-
- <p>“Great Scott, Doctor! I didn’t come here for a lecture on
- <em>psychology</em>—I came to find out what <em>in the name of Heaven</em>
- is going on <em>aboard this ship</em>!”</p>
-
- <p>In the face of these outbursts however, the doctor almost invariably
- retained his calm, regarding the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> patient coolly, searchingly, making a
- few careful notes on his pad.</p>
-
- <p>“Now, you say that ‘the life jacket <em>over inflated</em>,’ and that
- you were ‘stuck in the corridor’—that was your expression, I believe,
- ‘<em>stuck in the corridor</em>’—and at that moment you felt a certain
- <em>malaise</em>, so to speak. Now, let me ask you <em>this</em>....” Or
- again, on other occasions, he might behave eccentrically, his head
- craned far to one side, regarding the patient out of the corners of his
- eyes, a sly, mad smile on his lips which moved in an inaudible whisper,
- almost a hiss.</p>
-
- <p>Finally, the patient, at the end of his tether, would leap to his feet.</p>
-
- <p>“Well, in the name of God, Doctor, the least you can do is let me have
- some <em>tranquillizers</em>!”</p>
-
- <p>But the doctor, as it turned out, was not one given to prescribing
- drugs promiscuously.</p>
-
- <p>“Escape into drugs?” he would ask, wagging his head slowly. “Mask our
- fears in an artificial fog?” And there was always a trace of sadness
- in his smile, as he continued, “No, I’m afraid the trouble is <em>in
- ourselves</em>, you see.” Then he would settle back expansively and
- speak with benign countenance. “Running away from problems is scarcely
- the solution to them. I <em>believe</em> you’ll thank me in years to
- come.” And at last he would lean forward in quiet confidence. “Do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span>
- you mind if I ask you a few questions about your ... your <em>early
- childhood</em>?”</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p>When Captain Klaus next appeared on the screen, he looked as though
- he had been sleeping in two feet of water. Completely disheveled, his
- ribbons dangling in unsightly strands, his open coat flapping, his
- unknotted tie strung loosely around his collar, he seemed somewhat
- drunk as well. With a rude wave of his hand he dismissed bridge
- personnel and lurched toward the video screen, actually crashing into
- it, and remaining so close that his image was all distorted.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>We’ll get the old tub through!</em>” he was shouting at deafening
- volume, and at that moment he was attacked from behind by a ruffian
- type who was carrying a huge hypodermic and appeared to overpower the
- Captain and inject something into the top of his head, then to seize
- the wheel, wrenching it violently, before the screen went black.</p>
-
- <p>Also, it was learned about this time that because of fantastic
- miscalculation on the part of the ship’s-stores officer, the only food
- left aboard now was potatoes.</p>
-
- <p>Thus did the <cite>Christian</cite> roar over the sea, through fair weather
- and foul.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span></p>
-
- <p>Guy Grand was aboard of course, as a passenger, complaining bitterly,
- and in fact kept leading assault parties in an effort to find out, as
- he put it, “What the devil’s going on on the bridge!”</p>
-
- <p>But they were always driven back by a number of odd-looking men with
- guns and knives near the ladder.</p>
-
- <p>“Who the deuce are those chaps?” Grand would demand as he and the
- others beat a hasty retreat along the deck. “I don’t like the looks of
- this!”</p>
-
- <p>Occasionally the communications screen in each of the cabins would
- light up to reveal momentarily what was taking place on the bridge, and
- it was fairly incredible. The bridge house itself now was a swaying
- rubble heap and the Captain was seen intermittently, struggling with
- various assailants, and finally with what actually appeared to be a
- gorilla—the beast at last overpowering him and flinging him bodily out
- of the bridge house and, or so it seemed, into the sea itself, before
- seizing the wheel, which he seemed then to be trying to tear from its
- hub.</p>
-
- <p>It was about this time that the ship, which, as it developed, had
- turned completely around in the middle of the ocean, came back into New
- York harbor under full steam, and with horns and whistles screaming,
- ploughed headlong into the big Forty-Seventh Street pier.</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span></p>
-
- <p>Fortunately no one was injured on the cruise; but, even so, it went
- far from easy with Grand—he had already sunk plenty into the project,
- and just how much it cost him to keep clear in the end, is practically
- anyone’s guess.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="XVI">XVI</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“To speak seriously though,” said Guy Grand, “<em>does</em> anyone have
- news of Bill Thorndike? I haven’t had a word in the longest.”</p>
-
- <p>Ginger Horton set her cup down abruptly.</p>
-
- <p>“That ... that damn <em>nut</em>!” she said. “<em>No</em> and I
- <em>couldn’t</em> care less!”</p>
-
- <p>“Who?” asked Esther.</p>
-
- <p>“Dr. Thorndike,” explained Agnes, “that extraordinary dentist whom
- Ginger went to—he and Guy were friends at school together; isn’t that
- right, Guy?”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span></p>
-
- <p>“Yes, quite good friends too,” said Guy. “Poor fellow, had a nervous
- breakdown or something from what Ginger says. No, I haven’t had a
- word from him in the longest. How was he then, when you last saw him,
- Ginger?”</p>
-
- <p>Grand had made this inquiry any number of times, and then had always
- glossed over Ginger’s account of the incident, as though he could not
- fully take it in.</p>
-
- <p>“The <em>last time</em>!” she cried. “Why I only saw him once, of
- course—on <em>your</em> recommendation—and once too often it was too!
- Good God, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten <em>that</em> again? Why he was
- absolutely insane! He said to me, ‘These molars are soft, Mrs. Horton!’
- or some such ridiculous thing. ‘We’d better get you onto a soft-food
- regime right away!’ he said, and then, without another word about it,
- while I was still leaning back with my mouth open, he dropped a <em>raw
- egg</em> into my mouth and rushed out of the room, waving his arms and
- yelling at the top of his voice. Raving mad!”</p>
-
- <p>“Hmm—not like Bill Thorndike,” said Grand. “First-rate dentist, he used
- to be. You never went back to him then?”</p>
-
- <p>“I <em>certainly did not</em>! I went straight to the nearest police
- station, that’s where I went! And reported him!”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span></p>
-
- <p>Grand frowned a look of mild disapproval.</p>
-
- <p>“I’m afraid that won’t help Bill’s standing with the Association any.”</p>
-
- <p>“Well, I should hope <em>not</em>!” said Ginger Horton as strongly as she
- could.</p>
-
- <p>“How Uncle Edward used to love raw eggs!” said Esther. “Do you
- remember, Agnes?”</p>
-
- <p>“It’s hardly the same thing, Esther,” said Agnes.</p>
-
- <p>“Well, he always had them with a sort of sauce,” Esther recalled.
- “Worcestershire sauce, I suppose it was.”</p>
-
- <p>“It could have been some new form of deficiency treatment, of course,
- Ginger,” Agnes said. “I mean if your molars <em>were</em> soft....” But
- in the face of Ginger Horton’s mounting exasperation, she broke off and
- turned to Guy, “What do you think, Guy?”</p>
-
- <p>“Bill always <em>was</em> up-to-the-minute,” Guy agreed. “Always onto
- the latest. Very progressive in school affairs, that sort of thing—oh
- nothing disreputable of course—but, I mean to say, as far as being onto
- the latest in ... dentistry techniques, well I’m certainly confident
- that Bill—”</p>
-
- <p>“He just plopped that raw egg right into my mouth!” said Ginger
- shrilly. “Why I didn’t even know what it was! And that isn’t all—the
- instruments, and <em>everything</em> else there were crazy! There was
- some kind of wooden paddle....”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span></p>
-
- <p>“Spatula?” prompted Guy helpfully.</p>
-
- <p>“No, <em>not</em> a spatula! Good Heavens! A big wooden oar, about four
- feet long, actually leaning up against the chair.”</p>
-
- <p>“Surely he didn’t use that?” said Agnes.</p>
-
- <p>“But what on earth was it <em>doing</em> there is what I want to know?”
- Ginger demanded.</p>
-
- <p>“Maybe Bill’s taken up boating,” Guy offered but then coughed lightly
- to show the lameness of it, “... never cared for it though in school as
- I remember. <em>Tennis</em>, that was Bill’s game—damn good he was too;
- on the varsity his last two years.”</p>
-
- <p>“I simply <em>cannot</em> make you understand what an absolute madman he
- was,” said Ginger Horton. “There was something else on the chair too—a
- pair of <em>ice tongs</em> it looked like.”</p>
-
- <p>“Clamp, I suppose,” murmured Grand.</p>
-
- <p>“‘<em>Better safe than sorry, eh, Mrs. Horton?</em>’ he said to me like
- a perfect maniac, and then he said, ‘Now I <em>don’t</em> want you to
- swallow this!’ and he dropped a <em>raw egg</em> into my mouth, grabbed
- up a lot of those weird instruments and rushed around the room, waving
- them over his head, and then out the door, <em>yelling at the top of his
- lungs</em>!”</p>
-
- <p>“May have been called out on an emergency, you see,” said Guy, “happens
- all too often in that business from what I’ve seen of it.”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span></p>
-
- <p>“What <em>was</em> he saying when he left, Ginger?” Agnes asked.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Saying?</em> He wasn’t <em>saying</em> anything. He was simply
- yelling. ‘<em>Yaahh! Yaahh! Yaahh!</em>’ it sounded like.”</p>
-
- <p>“How extraordinary,” said Agnes.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>What</em> was he saying?” Esther asked of Agnes.</p>
-
- <p>“‘Yaahh, Yaahh,’” said Agnes quietly.</p>
-
- <p>“Not like Bill,” said Guy, shaking his head. “Must have been called out
- on emergency, only thing I can make of it.”</p>
-
- <p>“But surely the receptionist could have explained it all, my dear,”
- said Agnes.</p>
-
- <p>“There <em>was</em> no receptionist, I tell you!” said Ginger Horton
- irately. “There was no one but him—and a lot of fantastic instruments.
- And the chair was odd too! I’m lucky to have gotten out of there alive!”</p>
-
- <p>“Did she swallow the egg?” asked Esther.</p>
-
- <p>“Esther, for Heaven’s sake!”</p>
-
- <p>“What was that?” asked Grand, who seemed not to have heard.</p>
-
- <p>“Esther wanted to know if Ginger had <em>swallowed</em> the egg,” Agnes
- said.</p>
-
- <p>“Certainly not!” said Ginger. “I spit it right out. Not at first, of
- course; I was in a state of complete shock. ‘I <em>don’t</em> want you to
- swallow this!’ he said when he dropped it in, the maniac, so I just sat
- there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> in a state of pure shock while he raced around and around the
- room, screaming like a perfect madman!”</p>
-
- <p>“Maybe it wasn’t an egg,” suggested Esther.</p>
-
- <p>“What on earth do you mean?” demanded Ginger, quite beside herself.
- “It certainly <em>was</em> an egg—a raw egg! I <em>tasted</em> it and
- <em>saw</em> it, and some of the yellow got on my frock!”</p>
-
- <p>“And then you filed a complaint with the authorities?” asked Agnes.</p>
-
- <p>“Good Heavens, Agnes, I went straight to the police. Well, he could not
- be found! Disappeared without trace. Raving mad!”</p>
-
- <p>“Bill Thorndike’s no fool,” said Grand loyally, “I’d stake my word on
- that.”</p>
-
- <p>“But <em>why</em> did he disappear like that, Guy?” asked Agnes.</p>
-
- <p>“May have moved his offices to another part of the city, you see,” Guy
- explained, “or out of the city altogether. I know Bill was awfully
- keen for the West Coast, as a matter of fact; couldn’t get enough of
- California! Went out there every chance he could.”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>No</em>, he is not <em>anywhere</em> in this country,” said
- Ginger Horton with considerable authority. “There is absolutely no
- <em>trace</em> of him.”</p>
-
- <p>“Don’t tell me Bill’s chucked the whole thing,” said Grand
- reflectively, “given it all up and gone off to Bermuda or somewhere.”
- He gave a soft tolerant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> chuckle. “Wouldn’t surprise me too much though
- at that. I know Bill was awfully fond of <em>fishing</em> too, come
- to think of it. Yes, fishing and tennis—that was Bill Thorndike all right.”</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="chapter">
- <span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span>
- <h2 class="nobreak" id="XVII">XVII</h2>
- </div>
-
- <p class="noindent">“But you just <em>cannot</em> go off like that, Guy,” said Agnes, truly
- impatient with the boy now when he rose to leave. “Surely you shan’t!”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>Can</em> and <em>must</em>, my dears,” Guy explained, kissing
- them both. “Flux, motion, growth, change—those are your great life
- principles. Best keep pace while we can.”</p>
-
- <p>He bent forward and took fat Ginger’s hand in his own. “Yes, I’ll be
- moving on, Ginger,” he said with a warm smile for her, expansive now,
- perhaps in anticipation, “pushing down to Canaveral and out Los Alamos
- way!”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span></p>
-
- <p>“Good Heavens,” said Agnes, “in this dreadful heat? How silly!”</p>
-
- <p>“Always on the go,” purred Esther.</p>
-
- <p>“It’s wise to keep abreast,” said Guy seriously. “I’ll just nip down to
- Canaveral and see what’s shaking on the space-scene, so to speak.”</p>
-
- <p>“Same old six-and-seven, Guy?” teased big Ginger, flashing up at him.</p>
-
- <p>“Well, who can say?” admitted Guy frankly. “These are odd times—are,
- if I may say, times that try men’s souls. Yet each of us does his
- <em>best</em>—who can say more?”</p>
-
- <p>“Guy,” said Ginger, squeezing his hand and sparkling up again on one
- monstrous surge of personality, “it <em>has</em> been fun!” Good-byes
- were her forte.</p>
-
- <p>Guy gave a courtly nod, before turning to go, in deference, it seemed,
- to her beauty.</p>
-
- <p>“My dear,” he whispered, with a huskiness that made all the ladies
- tingle, “it has been ... <em>inspiring</em>.”</p>
-
- <div class="center">*<span class="col3">*</span>
- <span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span><span class="col3">*</span></div>
-
- <p class="noindent">The S.S. <cite>Magic Christian</cite> was Grand’s last major project—at least
- it was the last to be brought into open account. After that he began
- to taper off. However, he did like “keeping in touch,” as he expressed
- it,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> and, for one thing, he bought himself a grocery store in New York
- City. Quite small, it was more or less indistinguishable from the
- several others in the neighborhood, and Grand put up a little sign in
- the window.</p>
-
- <div class="center"><i>New Owner—New Policy<br>
- Big Get-Acquainted Sale</i></div>
-
- <p>Grand was behind the counter himself, wearing a sort of white smock—not
- too unlike his big Vanity lab smock—when the store opened that evening.</p>
-
- <p>His first customer was a man who lived next door to the store. He
- bought a carton of Grape-Ade.</p>
-
- <p>“That will be three cents,” said Grand.</p>
-
- <p>“<em>How much?</em>” asked the man, with a frown.</p>
-
- <p>“Three cents.”</p>
-
- <p>“Three <em>cents</em>? For six Grape-Ade? Are you kidding?”</p>
-
- <p>“It’s our two-for-one Get-Acquainted on Grape-Ade,” said Grand. “It’s
- new policy.”</p>
-
- <p>“Boy, <em>I’ll</em> say it’s new,” said the man. “And how! Three
- <em>cents</em>? Okay by me, brother!” He slapped three cents on the
- counter. “There it is!” he said and still seemed amazed when Grand
- pushed the carton towards him.</p>
-
- <p>“Call again,” said Grand.</p>
-
- <p>“That’s some policy all right,” said the man, looking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span> back over his
- shoulder as he started for the door. At the door, however, he paused.</p>
-
- <p>“Listen,” he said, “do you sell it ... uh, you know, by the
- <em>case</em>?”</p>
-
- <p>“Well, yes,” said Grand, “you would get some further reduction if you
- bought it by the case—not too much, of course; we’re working on a
- fairly small profit-margin during the sale, you see and—”</p>
-
- <p>“Oh, I’ll pay the two-for-one all right. Christ! I just wanted to know
- if I could <em>get</em> a case at that price.”</p>
-
- <p>“Certainly, would you like a case?”</p>
-
- <p>“Well, as a matter of fact, I could <em>use</em> more than one case....”</p>
-
- <p>“How many cases could you use?”</p>
-
- <p>“Well, uh ... how many ... how many have you <em>got</em>?”</p>
-
- <p>“Could you use a thousand?”</p>
-
- <p>“A <em>thousand?!?</em> A thousand cases of Grape-Ade?”</p>
-
- <p>“Yes, I could give you ... say, ten percent off on a thousand ... and
- at twenty-four bottles to the case, twelve cents a case ... would be
- one hundred and twenty dollars, minus ten percent, would be one hundred
- and eight ... call it one-naught-five, shall we?”</p>
-
- <p>“<em>No, no.</em> I couldn’t use a thousand cases. Jesus! I meant, say,
- <em>ten</em> cases.”</p>
-
- <p>“That would be a dollar twenty.”</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span></p>
-
- <p>“Right!” said the man. He slapped down a dollar twenty on the counter.
- “Boy, that’s some policy you’ve got there!” he said.</p>
-
- <p>“It’s our Get-Acquainted policy,” said Grand.</p>
-
- <p>“It’s some policy all right,” said the man. “Have you got any other ...
- <em>specials</em> on? You know, ‘two-for-one,’ that sort of thing?”</p>
-
- <p>“Well, most of our items have been reduced for the Get-Acquainted.”</p>
-
- <p>The man hadn’t noticed it before, but price tags were in evidence, and
- all prices had been sharply cut: milk, two cents a quart—butter, ten
- cents a pound—eggs, eleven cents a dozen—and so on.</p>
-
- <p>The man looked wildly about him.</p>
-
- <p>“How about cigarettes?”</p>
-
- <p>“No, we decided we wouldn’t carry cigarettes; since they’ve been
- linked, rather authoritatively, to cancer of the lung, we thought
- it wouldn’t be exactly in the best of taste to sell them—being a
- <em>neighborhood</em> grocery, I mean to say.”</p>
-
- <p>“Uh-huh, well—listen, I’m just going home for a minute now to get a
- sack, or a ... trunk, or maybe a truck ... I’ll be right back ...”</p>
-
- <p>Somehow the word spread through the neighborhood and in two hours the
- store was clean as a whistle.</p>
-
- <p>The next day, a sign was on the empty store:</p>
-
- <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span></p>
-
- <div class="center">MOVED TO NEW LOCATION</div>
-
- <p>And that evening, in another part of town, the same thing
- occurred—followed again by a quick change of location. The people who
- had experienced the phenomenon began to spend a good deal of their
- time each evening looking for the new location. And occasionally now,
- two such people meet—one who was at the big Get-Acquainted on West
- 4th Street, for example, and the other at the one on 139th—and so,
- presumably, they surmise not only that it wasn’t a dream, but that it’s
- still going on.</p>
-
- <p>And some say it does, in fact, still go on—they say it accounts for the
- strange searching haste which can be seen in the faces, and especially
- the eyes, of people in the cities, every evening, just about the time
- now it starts really getting dark.</p>
-
- <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
- <div class="center mt10">
- <img class="illowp15 center" src="images/signet.jpg" alt="">
- </div>
-
- <div class="center mt2 mb2"><b>ABOUT THE AUTHOR</b></div>
-
- <hr class="double">
- <p class="noindent mt5">TERRY SOUTHERN was born in Alvarado, Texas. His first short stories
- were published in Paris in 1949 by <cite>New-Story</cite> and in 1953 by the
- <cite>Paris Review</cite>. A novel, <cite>Flash and Filigree</cite>, appeared in
- England in 1958 and was acclaimed by the <cite>Observer</cite> as one of the
- “twenty-one outstanding novels of the year.”</p>
-
- <p>Mr. Southern’s short stories have recently been anthologized by David
- Burnett, editor of the <cite>Best American Short Stories</cite>. A portion of
- <cite>The Magic Christian</cite> received the Vanderbilt Prize for Humorous
- Fiction given in 1959 by the <cite>Paris Review</cite>.</p>
-
- <p>Mr. Southern is married and lives in Connecticut.</p>
-
- <div class="transnote mt5">
- <div class="large center"><b>Transcriber’s Notes:</b></div>
- <ul class="spaced small">
- <li>Blank pages have been removed.</li>
- <li>Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.</li>
- </ul>
- </div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGIC CHRISTIAN ***</div>
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