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diff --git a/old/69110-h/69110-h.htm b/old/69110-h/69110-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 90774c9..0000000 --- a/old/69110-h/69110-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4008 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - -<head> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <title> - The Magic Christian, by Terry Southern—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> - <style> - - body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - } - .x-ebookmaker body { margin: 0; } - - h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; - page-break-before: avoid; - } - - h1 { letter-spacing: 0.2em; margin-right: -0.2em; } - - h2 { - font-size: xx-large; - margin-bottom: 10%; - } - - h2.nobreak { page-break-before: avoid; } - - p { - margin-top: .5em; - margin-bottom: .5em; - text-align: justify; - text-indent: 1em; - } - - /* === Continuation after illo or poetry === */ - p.noindent { text-indent: 0; } - - /* === Title page === */ - div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - } - - div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; - } - - /* === Required for epub breaks === */ - div.chapter { - clear: both; - margin-top: 10%; - page-break-before: always; - } - - hr { width: 100%; margin: 1% 0; } - hr.double { - width: 100%; - height: 2px; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - border-style: solid; - background-color: black; - } - hr.chap { width: 65%; margin: 5% 17.5%; } - .x-ebookmaker hr.chap { visibility: hidden; } - @media print { hr.chap { visibility: hidden; } } - - /* === Superscript size === */ - sup { font-size: 75%; } - - /* === Fonts === */ - .small {font-size: small;} - .large {font-size: large;} - .xlarge {font-size: x-large;} - .smcap { font-variant: small-caps; } - .allsmcap { font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase; } - .gesperrt1 { letter-spacing: 0.1em; margin-right: -0.1em; } - .gesperrt2 { letter-spacing: 0.2em; margin-right: -0.2em; } - - /* === Alignment === */ - .mt2 { margin-top: 2%; } - .mt3 { margin-top: 3%; } - .mt5 { margin-top: 5%; } - .mt10 { margin-top: 10%; } - .mb2 { margin-bottom: 2%; } - .mb5 { margin-bottom: 5%; } - .mb10 { margin-bottom: 10%; } - .center { text-align: center; } - .justify { text-align: justify; } - .right { text-align: right; margin-right: 2%; } - - /* === Page #s === */ - .pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: 1%; - color: gray; - font-size: x-small; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - padding: 0 0.2em; - } - - blockquote { - margin-left: 2%; - margin-right: 2%; - font-size: smaller; - } - - .col3 { margin-left: 13%; } - - /* === Images === */ - img { - width: 100%; - height: auto; - } - - figure { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - page-break-inside: avoid; - clear: both; - } - - figcaption { - font-weight: bold; - font-size: large; - text-align: center; - } - - .figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - clear: both; - max-width: 100%; - page-break-inside: avoid; - } - - .illowp10 { width: 10%; } - .illowp15 { width: 15%; } - .illowp75 { width: 75%; } - - /* === Abreviation: no underline, no color === */ - abbr { - border: none; - text-decoration: none; - } - - /* === Transcriber's notes === */ - ul.spaced li { padding-top: 1%; } - - .transnote, .covernote { - background-color: #E6E6FA; - border: 1px solid black; - color: black; - padding: 0.2em; - margin-bottom: 5em; - font-family: sans-serif; - } - - .covernote { - font-size: x-small; - text-align: center; - } - - </style> -</head> - -<body> -<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> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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