A Red State Hero

Chapter 38 A-WK-N-NY (A Week in New York)

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Because of its length, the following chapter will run Thursday, August 28 through Monday, September 1.

Chapter 38    A-WK-N-NY  (A Week in New York)

MONDAY

The limousine from Kennedy was greeted by a doorman. As he opened the passenger door Lewis and Betty Thaler appeared in the entranceway. "Welcome to our home," they said and ushered Glenn and Dorothy into a luxurious foyer. An elevator took them to the Thaler door, a grand, embossed affair which was opened as if on que by a uniformed maid who was introduced as Heidi. A long hallway led into the heart of the apartment, its walls adorned with photographs.

"I suppose you know Cartier-Bresson," said Betty with a gesture toward the portraits. "Of course, Henri filmed everyone from Churchill to Ghandi but this is my favorite," she said, "Marilyn Monroe on the set of The Misfits. You can see how she's engrossed in thought, this is the real Marilyn; you can see how intelligent she was."

"Yes," said Lewis, "this is Arthur Miller's favorite photo of her."

Glenn and Dorothy did not get the connection and with a surprised look Lewis realized this.

In the apartment's dining room with its magnificent view of Central Park, Heidi and her assistant served a lunch of smoked salmon and caviar.

Eyeing the food with suspicion Dorothy said, "We just ate lunch on the plane."

Embarrassed to eat alone, Lewis and Betty sat quietly as every avenue of discussion ended in silence and Lewis realized that something had to be done. He excused himself and when he returned fifteen long minutes later he said, "Have you ever stayed at the Plaza?"

There was a look of non-comprehension on Glenn's face until he said, "We've never been in New York."

"Oh, you've never been in New York?" said Betty, "My goodness."

"You'll love the Plaza," said Lewis, "We've secured a suite for you on the floor beneath the penthouse, tremendous view."

And so it was that following lunch (or the lack of it) the limousine was called back and Lewis accompanied Glenn and Dorothy to their lodgings. Lewis knew from the beginning that the original plan to have them at the apartment would have been awkward; and it had been sheer luck that the suite held by the Goodwyn brothers, his senior investment partners, had been vacant. In a way he felt bad about this but the Reeves' were obviously not conversant on a level that could last a whole week or even fifteen minutes for that matter. In some instinctive way, Glenn realized this too. When Lewis left he said, "When he asked me to come up here he said we were going to stay with them; I didn't know we'd end up in a hotel."

"That's ok," said Dorothy with resignation, "I never knew what they were talking about from the minute we met."

"Well, you knew who Marilyn Monroe was?"

"Of course, I knew who Marilyn Monroe was," Dorothy hissed."
"I know," said Glenn, "we just didn't fit in."

If he had given in to it, his feelings would have been hurt but within an hour he was given another chance at hurt feelings. Lewis sent an "associate" up to the suite with orders to take Glenn to his tailor and get him dressed up like a New Yorker.

"But I don't need any new clothes," Glenn protested.

"Don't worry about it," said young Hinkley, "it's all on the company. Lewis is going to take you to some pretty fancy places and he wants you to feel comfortable and for that matter," said Hinkley looking over at Dorothy, "Betty's coming to take you shopping too."

Glenn looked at Dorothy and Dorothy looked at Glenn with such expressions of hurt that they could hardly bear it.

"I'm just this close to going back to West Virginia," said Glenn.

Dorothy said nothing for nearly a minute and then she said, "If they want to spend money on us, we're gonna let them do it. We already know what they think of us, so we'll just take a deep breath and do what we have to do this afternoon and the rest of the week. All right, Glenn?"

"Well, said Glenn finally, "it's all about money isn't it?"

"That's why we're here," said Dorothy, "money."

They had not tried to hide their remarks from young Hinkley and he understood that in a manner of speaking they had been insulted. That's why he looked Glenn in the eye and said, "What the hell, just go for it."

As they went down the elevator Glenn couldn't see what was wrong with what he was wearing. After all he had on a diamond encircled twenty-five thousand dollar Rolex, a pair of ostrich-hide sandals that had been handmade in Spain, a nice pair of grey slacks from K-Mart and a black sports jacket that had cost him two hundred and fifty dollars.
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"You shouldn't have invited them to stay here with us," Betty chided Lewis, "It was obvious from the first moment that we had nothing to say to one another."

"Well, they seemed like very nice people in West Virginia."

"That's West Virginia," said Betty, "that's their environment-going to church and eating fried chicken and all the rest of it. We don't have a porch here with any rocking chairs on it. If they had stayed here we would have had to entertain them day and night until the end of the week. They'll be fine at the Plaza. When we're not doing something with them they can go sight-seeing or whatever they want to do."

"You know what they're gonna do," said Lewis, "when they're not with us they're going to sit around and watch television and order room service."

Three hours later Glenn emerged from La Rukico's where Lewis' tailor had altered two suits off the racks to fit him. The prices were never mentioned but Glenn got the feeling that the cost of the suits would be a good down payment on a car. Cecil, the tailor packaged a half dozen shirts and four silk Italian ties with the suits.

"You can wear a different tie every night with a different shirt and make these two suits look like new outfits as long as you're in the city. But those shoes," said Cecil pointing to the ostrich skinned loafers, "won't work with these suits. They're too over the top. What you need is a plain black Gucci loafer that you can wear every night. Get some black silk stockings to go with them, stockings without patterns."

He spoke to Glenn as if he were a child but there was no edge to his voice and Glenn took his remarks in stride.

Glenn returned to the hotel before Dorothy and quickly dressed in one of the new outfits. "I could never wear something like this in West Virginia," he said to himself as he fingered the wide lapels. "Daniel will be glad to get these; they're just his style."

Daniel never complained about hand-me-downs from his stepfather. Glenn handed down some very nice items: a twelve-hundred dollar, black Mohair overcoat that he didn't care for, a pearl grey English fedora. Glenn was not a hat man, several handmade and monogrammed dress shirts which Daniel happily wore-he didn't care that the monogram wasn't his. And there were other items that Daniel would have never purchased for himself-two pairs of cowboy boots-one of them a pair of Justins-black with embossed leather; just right for the right occasion. He had worn them in Nashville while recording and he had worn them at Temple Hessed in Scranton when he sang Kol Nidre. All the talk that was caused by this amused him. There were other things that he never wore like the beige winter coat lined with mink and the western-cut leather jacket. "Yes," Glenn thought he would give these Italian suits to Daniel.

Dorothy returned while he was showering and when he emerged from the bedroom she sat on the chaise lounge with a forlorn look upon her face. She was wearing a powder blue suit, one of the four outfits that Betty had picked out for her.

"This is a Saint Laurence," she said unable to pronounce ‘Yves Saint Laurent,' "I think the colors are crazy in the other three. One of them mixes blue and green and red and yellow and one of them has squares. I can wear them to Permons," she said to Glenn, "when we get back home." Referring to the only restaurant in West Virginia with a Michelin rating.

That evening Dorothy felt uneasy as she rode the elevator up to Windows on the World. No one else seemed to mind-not Glenn, Lewis or Betty but Dorothy's claustrophobia allowed only for short elevator trips and as the elevator kept climbing her anxiety raced toward the "attack" level. What if there was an earthquake, wouldn't the building tilt over? The doors opened just in time.
When she reached the table and was seated by the maitre d' she confronted another problem-the City of New York was right below her left elbow-just below her left elbow. The dreadful urge to jump came upon her. Once again she was approaching tilt level when Glenn caught the look in her eyes.

"Mom, would you trade places with me so that I can watch the view?" he said, adding with a smile, "Dorothy has a thing about heights, they make her dizzy."

"Oh, my God," said Betty under her breath.

Lewis had arranged for Kevin to seat Dorothy near the best view in the restaurant. It was a matter of one hundred dollars. Betty couldn't help it; she showed her disgust by tossing her silverware.
Dinner in the Pool Room was quail in truffle sauce. "We'll have what you have," Glenn and Dorothy had said; now they looked at their dishes with unease. Glenn worried about his new tie so they ate sparingly much to Betty's alarm.

"We can order something else," she said.

"Oh, no," said Dorothy, "this is wonderful, wonderful."

Dick talked about hunting quail. "What you need to hunt qual is a good birddog." This injection of reality turned Betty's stomach.
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When Lewis and Betty got home she complained loudly, "Are these people from Mars?"

In a stern voice Lewis said, "Betty, you don't seem to understand what's going on. I'm not auditioning Glenn Reeves this week, he's auditioning me. He's a non-commodity as far as I'm concerned and he has money written all over him. He's the man I need to do what I want to do. But it's possible that he's too innocent in his own way to realize that he's holding most of the cards in this deal. All I have to offer him is money, anyone can give him money; but his expertise holds the key to what I'm trying to do."

Betty kept a journal; after Lewis fell asleep she wrote, "The first day with the Reeves' has been trying. They didn't like the food at Windows on the World, can you believe it."

A few blocks away Glenn and Dorothy held one of their before-bed meetings. They had done this since they were first married-set aside a few minutes where the day past was re-hashed and plans were made for the morrow. The meetings were often about business, about strategy. Dorothy and Glenn played "good cop-bad cop." Glenn was "good cop" and Dorothy relished the role of "bad cop." Glenn would say to someone, "I really like your idea or your proposal or your plan but Dorothy is dead-set against it and you know how stubborn she is when she makes up her mind." At that point he would get a little expression of embarrassment on his face and say, "The problem is I have to live with her."

At the end of their first day in New York, all Glenn could say was, "I'm too tired to talk about it."

TUESDAY

Around eleven o'clock, Glenn and Dorothy were picked up by Lewis in his own car, a navy blue Mercedes, pronounced "Mar-cedes" by Glenn.

"Betty had business elsewhere," Lewis explained although in reality she refused to eat in a certain restaurant in Lewis' old neighborhood. "We'll take a little ride around the East Side," said Lewis, "It'll give you an idea of the city."

The first stop was Temple Emanu-El on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Sixty-Fifth Street. Rabbi Posner was friendly and seemed to know Lewis quite well.

"Do you know Rabbi Volkman?" he asked upon being introduced to Glenn.

Glenn shook his head in the negative.

"Rabbi Volkman is Rabbi of Temple Israel in Charleston, one of the oldest Reform Congregations in America."

After more pleasantries were exchanged, The Rabbi explained the history of Temple Emanu-El. "You see, there's a special irony in our location. We're on the site of John Jacob Astor's mansion. You know who I mean?"

"Is he related to the Astors of Newport?" Dorothy asked.

"Yes, indeed, the Rabbi replied. "Beyond his wealth, he is best know for going down with the Titanic."

"Oh, dear," said Dorothy.

"The Rabbi began to stroll toward the beama* as he continued on, "John's mother, Carolyn Schermerhorn Astor, was the guardian of New York society. She compiled a list of the four hundred best families in New York and the East Coast and anyone not on that list was not allowed at her balls, parties or other events. It was a very exclusive list. The Vanderbilts were excluded as was J.P. Morgan and the Rockefellers. And of course, she excluded Catholics and Jews; that's why it's so ironic that the Astor mansion was torn down to make way for Temple Emanu-El."
* altar in Hebrew

"I was at the Breakers with my Aunt Florence," said Dorothy, "and we went to the Touro Synagogue. My mother's family is descended from those Jews up there."

The Rabbi and Lewis were stunned to hear this as was Glenn.
"When was this?" Glenn asked.

"The summer I lived in St. Louis; I was sixteen. But I'm a Baptist now and so is Glenn."

Back in the car Lewis tried to put it together-this country woman from West Virginia was descended from Sephardim**
**Spanish Jewry. The Newport Sephardim were the first Jews in America-late 1600's.

Down Fifth Avenue at the corner of Sixtieth Street Lewis pointed out the Metropolitan Club, built by the Vanderbilts as an answer to the old-monied Kinckerbocker crowd. Travelling further up Lewis pointed out many famous residences including the house where the Marx brothers grew up on East Ninety-Third Street. Later they reached Gracie Mansion, the mayor's residence, a rather non-descript house with a three-sided veranda.

"When Gracie Mansion was built, it was five miles north of the city; there were no roads, it was only reachable by boat," said Lewis.
He then headed back by way of Yorktown, "This is where I grew up," he said. "When I was a kid, men around here still wore dirndels and lederhosen."

They stopped at the Heidelberg Restaurant where they had sniztle and noodelien. The Heidelberg was a place for eating. It reminded Glenn of a place off I-70 in Eastern Pennsylvania, a German eatery where local farmers came to eat-eat and sit and masticate. Sometimes the breathing was in unison; this phenomenon amazed Glenn, along with the chewing and swallowing and grunting, there was very little conversation. It was all about food-from the beginning to the strudel at the end. Glenn had some very dark thoughts about this-so many of the eaters looked obsessive, he thought. But he ate the same way as he worked his way through mounds of sniztle and noodelien; this was not food for talking and he wondered if Lewis could read his mind.

After lunch, Lewis pulled up in front of a town house. "This is where Geoffery Bradfield lives. Betty's obsessed with having him re-do our apartment. She says that before long all his clients will be billionaires.

"I think your apartment is beautiful the way it is," said Dorothy.

"I know, so do I," Lewis said, "but Betty wants to make a statement. She wants to have people over and blow them away."

Whatever Lewis was talking about totally escaped Dorothy whose living room (a room she never used) looked, for all the world, like a gift shop cluttered as it were with knickknacks and tchotchkes.***
***Yiddish for decorations

"Did you show them where Andy Warhol lived?" asked Betty when Lewis returned home.

"They wouldn't give a damn about Andy Warhol," he replied.

"But I did take them to the apartments on Gerard Avenue where the back rooftops overlook Yankee Stadium. I was only up there a couple of times as a teenager but it was great watching the ballgames for free. One of the guys who lived there had actually seen the Joe Louis-Max Schmeling fight. He had a pair of binoculars and claimed he saw the sweat fly off of Schmeling's face when Louis knocked him out."
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"Lewis sounded just like a tour guide, didn't he," said Glenn to Dorothy, "sounded just like the guy on the ferry boat in Nashville."
"Well, he probably takes a lot of people on the same little tour he gave us today. Didn't he say there were Japanese in town two weeks ago?"

"And Germans," added Glenn, "they bring over lots of German investors. I'll bet he takes them to the Heidellberg."
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That evening they rode in the chauffeured limousine as Lewis explained the night's event. "I hope you like ballet," he said, "Betty adores it. Tonight we're going to see a Balanchine Ballet."

"One choreographed by Balanchine," Betty corrected.

Dorothy leaned forward and in an earnest voice asked, "Who's Balanchine?"

"He was a Russian choreographer that came to the states and transformed American dance."

"My sister was married to a Russian," said Glenn, "a guy named Galuba. He was something else."

"Is Galuba Russian?" Betty asked.

"One of the Baltic entities," Lewis answered.

"Well, he said he was Russian," Glenn whispered.
Back in the hotel, Dorothy held the program for the ballet in her hand before calling West Virginia, "Raymonda; choreography by Balanchine; music by Glazunov; starring Rudolf Nureyev and Maria Tallchief. How will I describe this?" she wondered.

"Just tell them the ballerina stood straight up on her toe with one leg and pointed the other leg straight up to the ceiling."
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WEDNESDAY

Wednesday is a "day on your own" as Lewis put it. Dorothy was anxious to hit the streets. She had shopping on her mind. She had spent Monday afternoon at Lord and Taylor's with Betty but she hadn't had enough. Glenn followed her reluctantly. "You know I can't do this alone in New York City," she said.

Her destination was the perfume counter where, after much indecision, she picked out a small container of Clive Christian.
Glenn grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her to one side, "That stuff is seven hundred fifty dollars."

Dorothy opened her purse, pulled out a folded magazine page and pointed to a photograph of Clive Christian. "I've been wanting this for a long time," she said, "and I'm spending my own money so let go of my elbow."

One hour after they arrived, Glenn was happy to get back onto the street and into the sunlight. Lord and Taylor's had seemed stifling. They wandered aimlessly in spite of Dorothy's warning that "We gotta be careful or we'll get lost."

"We're not gonna get lost," scolded Glenn, "we can get into any cab in this city, tell them to take us to the Plaza and we're not lost any more."

They passed Demassi's Pets For All Ages. Every kind of pet resided there, from terriers to turtles but it was a black and white Persian cat that caught Dorothy's eye.

"Oh, he's so beautiful," she said as he stared at her with lipid eyes, eyes that seemed to find their way into her very soul. "I have got to have him, Glenn, I've got to have him."

She had known this cat all her life especially in her dreams.
"What are we gonna do with him here?" Glenn protested.
"We'll buy one of those little carrying cages and take him back to the hotel."

"And what about the plane home?"

"Oh, I don't want to ride that plane again; it scared me to death. We can rent a car and drive back home."

"It'll take us two days to drive back to West Virginia."

"Listen, honey," said Dorothy in a rare show of affection, "we'll rent a car and buy a bunch of country and western cassettes and you won't even notice how long it takes. We have to go through Pennsylvania, right?"

"That's for sure."

"Well, we can stop at the Howard Johnsons we used to stop at, the one with the stone building."

Glenn's mouth was ajar as he tried to visualize.

"They had good barbeque, remember?"

That settled it; they would rent a car, a Lincoln maybe, listen to country music and eat barbeque at Howard Johnsons.

Glenn and Dorothy were barely into the lobby of the Plaza when they were approached by the concierge.

"Excuse me," he said, "but what do we have in the cage?"

"It's a kitten," said Dorothy, "we just bought it."

"It seems rather large for a kitten," said Albert with raised eyebrows.

"Well, it's a fully grown kitten," countered Glenn.

"I see," said Albert, "but I must tell you we don't allow pets in our rooms."

"Well, he's in a cage."

"No matter, if you leave him in a cage for your entire stay someone will call the SPCA and we certainly don't want them tramping through the lobby do we?"

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" said Glenn with some testiness.

"Perhaps you would care to take the animal back whence it came."

"Whence it came?" said Glenn with a grin, "I think instead we'll check out of here and find a hotel that will take a cat."

"Well, Mr. Reeves, your name is Reeves isn't it?"

"That's right."

"Well, Mr. Reeves, aren't you booked in here through the end of the week? What I mean to say is the entire week must be paid for.'
Glenn's voice became angry, "As I understand it this is a company room. They pay by the year don't they. Isn't it always reserved by the Goodwyn brothers?"

"That's right," said Albert his nose elevated ever so slightly.

"Well, in that case we'll be checking out. I have a nice tip for a bellboy to follow me up to the room and bring our luggage down."

And so it was that one hundred dollars later, Glenn and Dorothy were ensconced in a yellow cab being transported to the Miromar, a place highly recommended by the bellhop, Tony Fresginni. The Miromar turned out to be in Little Italy and that was all right with Glenn and Dorothy. It was surrounded by Italian restaurants, purveyors of their favorite food. Even more surprising was their discovery that the in-house restaurant was called CAESAR'S SUPPER CLUB. Although it didn't open until 4:00 p.m. they looked inside and Glenn said, "Geeze, it's exactly like the one in Fairmont, West Virginia."

"It looks like they've copied it," said Dorothy.

"If anyone copied anything," said Glenn, "it was Angelo in Fairmont. He probably came up here and decided he wanted to build one just like it."

They were talking about the Romanesque décor, busts of Julius and Augustus Caesar-breast plates mounted on the walls and two bound fasces totems on each side of a tiny stage.

At 4:00 o'clock they were back.....................................

Caesar's made no pretence at being chic. It was, except for the décor, a simple, straightforward place. The menu had familiar Italian fare but the young waiter, an Italian émigré who spoke little English, was taken aback when Glenn asked for a "pepper steak". Soon the chef was on the scene and explained that Caesar's Supper Club not only did not serve pepper steak but they weren't sure what Glenn meant by the term. Glenn explained that in West Virginia, there was an Italian nightclub called Caesar's Supper Club which looked just like its New York cousin and they served pepper steak. The waiter finally said, "Carne peppero".

Glenn devoured the pepper steak with relish. He consumed a half loaf of Italian bread along with a pitcher of Coca-Cola.

"Isn't that going to cause you problems with your diabetes?" asked Dorothy.

"I don't care," said Glenn, "I haven't had any real food since I've been here."

Glenn called Lewis and told him about the change of hotels, told him that he would take a cab and meet him at the theatre. Glenn, actually, didn't want to see a play but Lewis and Betty had insisted.

By the second act of the Albee play, Glenn's stomach was roaring with disapproval, not only of the food but of the language too. He did not understand the play; it was full of unfamiliar references. "New York stuff," he said to himself.

In the lobby on the way out Lewis said, "Did you know today is Bastille Day?"

"What?" said Glenn.

"Bastille Day, the anniversary of the storming of the Bastille."
Both Glenn and Dorothy looked baffled.

Once in the limousine Lewis went on to say, "Bastille Day commemorates the beginning of the French Revolution. It's similar to our Fourth of July which was just a few days ago. We're headed to a restaurant called Chez Napolèon which makes a big deal out of Bastille Day."

It was a small restaurant of white tablecloths, a restaurant that practiced the French tradition, one of the last French bistros on the west side of Midtown-a virtual bookend at one end of the Theatre District.

"The chef here," said Betty, "is known as Grand-Mère and she, in turn, was taught by her grandmother. There's a love story behind this place. The chef, Mrs. Bruno,"

"Marguerite," corrected Lewis.

"Yes, Marguerite," said Betty, "helped a French prisoner, Alfred Bruno, escape from a Nazi work camp. They were subsequently married but there was no film for a photograph so their wedding picture could not be taken until later that year and it hangs just there." Betty pointed to the opposite wall.

Once again Lewis did the ordering which began with a selection of Hors D' Oeuvres Salad De Concombre, Patè Maison, Saucisson Sec, Artichaud Vinaigrette and Foie Gras. This was followed by a house specialty Moules Napolèon and Coquille St. Jacques. These Hors D' Oeuvres were sampled as one would sample Chinese appetizers.

Of course, it was too much food and Glenn and Dorothy ate very little of it but Glenn "went after" the Foie Gras.

As an entrée, Lewis guessed that Canarad à L'Orange would be a good choice but to be sure he explained that it was duck served with an orange glaze. He ruled out the Ris de Veau-they would not eat veal sweetbread. Likewise he ruled out the Cervelle de Veau (calf's brain prepared in black butter and capers). On the other hand, Boeuf Bourguignon (classic beef stew) might be the safest choice. There were two quail dishes but Glenn and Dorothy didn't eat quail the night before and Lewis didn't want to hear about quail hunting again. He knew exactly what Betty wanted, it was Rognons Dijonnaise (veal kidneys in mustard sauce). On the other hand, they might want Filet de Sole if they were in the mood for fish; but having been told of their preference for Italian food, he wondered if they might not be in the mood for Veau Forestière (veal scaloppini). Finally he came to a sure-fire winner, the Steak Grillè (grilled sirloin steak and French fries) and finally he was right. The Reeves' had the steak as did Lewis-just to keep them company.

Only once did the packed house rise and sing La Marseillaise. Of course, Lewis and Betty sang it in French with Lewis displaying a surprisingly powerful baritone. Betty sang well too and both Glenn and Dorothy stood watching their companions singing in a foreign language with closed eyes. It was, Glenn thought, the longest gal-darn song he had ever heard.

After dinner, Glenn did break his rule about mixing alcohol with diabetes and had a grasshopper. Dorothy had tonic water with a slice of lime. "People will think you're having a Tom Collins," Glenn said. This bothered Dorothy because she made it a point of letting people know that she didn't drink. Of course, that didn't cover the bottle of Jack Daniels that she kept in the back of a lower kitchen cabinet.

Lewis and Betty, over dry martinis, talked about Albee, the playwright. "We know Simon Bessie, Albee's original publisher; Simon and Cornelia are friends.

"After a manner of speaking," corrected Lewis who realized the name Simon Bessie meant nothing to the Reeves'.

"My sister's name is Bessie," said Dorothy.

"First name or last name?"

"First name. I think Bessie's a strange last name," Dorothy added with a wrinkled up nose.

"Well actually," said Betty, "Lewis' father knew Abraham Bessie, Simon's father."

"Oh," said Dorothy drawing out the "o" as if Betty's remark meant something.

"Simon's a genius," said Lewis saluting with his martini glass.
"Not so much of a genius that he let Nabokov get away from him."
Lewis explained Betty's remark, "You know, Nabokov, who wrote Lolita."

"Ah, Lolita," said Dorothy in a vaguely disapproving tone.

From that point on the conversation wound down to a full stop. Glenn was anxious to get back to the Miromar and a good night's sleep; but not before an ounce or so of Pepto Bismol.

Soon Dorothy was on the phone to West Virginia. "I don't know how I could explain it," she said, "I didn't think much of it as a play. It wasn't the Sound of Music or anything like that but there was a grandmother in the play with colitis so that made me feel right at home.

THURSDAY

Glenn and Dorothy got up early Thursday morning in preparation for their cruise on Goodwyn's yacht. This would be Glenn's first meeting with George Goodwyn, Lewis' backer. The evening before on the way to the theatre Lewis had described the Goodwyn's as two brothers who were billionaires, the sons of a commodity trader who had once tried to corner the silver market. They had invested in the development of the birth control pill and were principal stock holders in a Hollywood studio.

Glenn was nervous about the meeting. He had never met a billionaire before and kept repeating in his mind, "a billion is one thousand million."

"There's nothing to worry about," Lewis told him. "George and his brother and his father and his family are rich because they're very, very sensible people. His manner is down to earth and friendly and I'm sure you'll like him."

Glenn thought that Derrick should be along. Derrick was good at the games of the rich. He knew his way around golf courses, tennis courts and yacht clubs and he was likable in spite of his arrogance.

Glenn was told there would be brunch on the yacht but he wasn't sure what that meant. He didn't want to be confronted with smoked salmon and caviar again. He had tried to eat a lox and bagel sandwich once in Florida and couldn't get it down. Jason had taken him to breakfast at Wolfies. As a lobbyist on K Street, Jason lived in deli's every day. In any case to prevent surprises, Glenn had gone out to buy breakfast, returning with orange juice and hot peperoni rolls like the ones he had acquired a taste for in Fairmont. But unaware that Dorothy had let the cat out and unaware that she was in the bathroom he opened the door only to see the large Persian flee down the hallway.

Glenn went after him at full tilt and chased him into a room getting maid service. Upon seeing the wild cat, the maids fled. Glenn threw a blanket over the animal, then reaching under the blanket to catch it he was severely scratched. He grabbed it by the loose fur on the back of its neck and held it away from him. At first it struggled and clawed wildly but by the time he had returned to his room, the cat was subdued emitting tiny baby-like meows.

Once Bugger was secured, Glen went to the bathroom to run water over his bleeding arm. Luckily enough the front desk had a first aid kit. After hydrogen peroxide and bacitracin, the arm was bandaged. The bandage ruled out the wearing of a polo shirt. With nothing else to wear, he put on a white dress shirt.

"Do I look stupid wearing something like this on a yacht?" he asked Dorothy.

"Well, I don't believe you can wear a white shirt alone; you'll have to wear a jacket with it." This made Glenn uncomfortable.

Lewis' limousine puled up in front of the Miromar but was motioned on down the street by a policeman. Lewis and Betty got out; Betty with her natural curiosity wanted to check out the Miromar. Finally, it was necessary for Lewis, Betty, Glenn and Dorothy to walk back to the end of the block where the limousine was parked. As they passed a building under construction, the workmen on the third floor called down to Betty, evaluating with their comments her shorts and her perfect ass. "Sit on my face, baby," one of them yelled.

Both Lewis and Glenn looked up as the worker backed out of sight.
Lewis could not help thinking of the movie in which Ann Bancroft, playing a grandmother in the same circumstances, rode a lift up to the third floor and confronted the workers with the remark, "Who wants me to sit on their face?"

He noticed that Betty was blushing but Dorothy seemed unaware. She didn't know what the phrase, "Sit on my face" meant.

The Celito Linda had barely left its mooring when breakfast was served. Introductions were underway. "Glenn, I'd like to introduce you to George Goodwyn of Goodwyn Brothers. Goodwyn Brothers is our principal; and here on my right is Clarence Ostendorf from the Geology Department at Columbia."
Glenn winced at the word "geologist" but still shook Ostendorf's outstretched hand.

"These omelettes are from a recipe by Paul Bocuse," said Carlos, the chef. "They have artichokes and shiitaki mushrooms and a powdered pineapple glaze. I hope you enjoy them." Everyone had Bloody Mary's except Glenn and Dorothy.

Goodwyn got right down to business. "Glenn, Lewis here is of Austrian heritage, his family lived in Vienna for hundreds of years and unlike most, who fled the Nazis, they maintained ties to people in the German speaking countries. People that have liquidity, not just people alone, but mutual funds; people who direct mutual fund investments and they want to invest in oil and gas and that, of course, is why we're all here.

"We've been checking up on you Glenn," said Goodwyn. We called Sam Warner."

Glenn's face went ashen.

"He spoke very highly of you. We put together some figures and we found that you struck oil 83% of the time. That's an incredible record."

Glenn did not respond for a moment then he said, "I never knew the figures, I just relied on my gut. I can bring in a well for one hundred fifty thousand dollars every time. I know where the oil is.
I don't need science, I don't need geologists, I have a track record as good as any in the business. You gotta know how to read the mud, if you got the nose for it.

Betty looked up from her Bloody Mary which she stirred with a motion of doubt.

Clarence, the geologist said, "That's really, really amazing," "amazing" dripped with sarcasm.

"Well, as far as I'm concerned," said Goodwyn, "the money spends the same way; whether it's gut or geologist."

Glenn recognized a kinship with Goodwyn and he began to relax. Passing the Statue of Liberty at that very moment, Ellis Island was brought up and Glenn asked Goodwyn, "Did your people pass through there?"

At first Goodwyn was stunned; the nativist American was telling him he didn't pass but he rebounded quickly and with a smile. "You see Glenn, before we became Presbyterians the Goodwyns were German-German Jews. So we arrived before Ellis Island was built."

"That's right," said Lewis, "the Germans were standing there offering sweatshop jobs to anyone who wanted them."

Glenn didn't know if this statement was humorous or not.

"Don't be a meshuge," said Goodwyn.

Glenn didn't understand that either.

In a courteous way Goodwyn said, "We need a little meeting Glenn so would you and Dorothy mind taking a little stroll around the deck."

When they were out of earshot George said, "Let's hear it."
Betty did not hold back, "These people came to New York and bought a cat."

"And they didn't care for ballet or a night of Broadway drivel," added George, "You should have taken them to see the Rockettes, you should have taken them to the Carnegie Deli. Better yet, Lewis, if you have the time you ought to run ‘em down to the Jersey Shore. Go to the Circus Diner and get ‘um some soft shell crabs. They'd like that. For Christ's sakes, don't take them to the opera. Lewis, this guy's gonna make you a ton of money; I'm in!"

Glenn and Dorothy strolled around the deck until they were motioned back to the meeting, Glenn said, "There's another thing I never brought up when we were just talking. It's really about the future. There's a formation called the Marcellus Shale, a layer of rock under the entire state of Pennsylvania, a lot of New York and West Virginia too. This formation has lots of natural gas. It's kind of expensive to extract but if they can work out a way to get at it, and they're working on it in Texas right now; it's worth billions."

"Glenn, for your information," said Betty, "Pennsylvania is a Commonwealth."

"What?"

"Pennsylvania is a Commonwealth, not a state."

Betty saw the darts shooting out of George's eyes. He was not amused.

"Enough already," said George. "You see, Glenn, this is Ms. Corrections. We had an investor from Guildford, just south of London and in his typical English way he referred to The Charge of the Light Brigade as something by Kipling. ‘No,' said Ms. Corrections, ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade was by Tennyson. Tennyson preceded Kipling.' And as if that wasn't enough she said, ‘Tennyson followed Byron.' Well, this guy is very embarrassed and he says, ‘Kipling was born on the birthday of George the Fifth and died on the day that George Fifth died.' His face was all red with humiliation and I thought we had lost him thanks to Ms. Corrections here."

There were several seconds of dead air.

Then Lewis asked, "Glenn, did you say billions?"

Glenn paused for a moment then said, "Geeze, there must be several billion dollars worth."

Upon hearing this Betty completely backed off of any ideas about busting Glenn's chops. It suddenly seemed that if Glenn was for real she could hire Geoffery Bradfield.

As the boat docked, Lewis said, "Maybe we'll change the itinerary. Reggie's having a cocktail party."

Goodwyn waited until Dorothy and Glenn were down on the pier and then he said, "Stop right there. First of all they don't drink, second of all the last thing they need is a room full of New York posers. They know real people."

"Everyone poses," said Lewis.

"But, Lewis, in New York we have world class posers, especially Reggie and Wanda's crowd."

"It's not that bad,"

"Yes it is. All those people with their mid-Atlantic accents, you know, the fake British inflection with the Brooklyn pop-ups."

Lewis knew George was right. The whole cultural tour had been Betty's idea. She was a creature of the city, at home in the shadows and occasional sunlight of the city's canyons. Shopping, any kind of shopping was her milieu, as was the ballet, the theatre, the opera, the concert hall. Lewis watched her as she walked down the gangplank.

He knew her secrets: she never wore underwear, every crevice of her body was sweetly perfumed and in years gone by she and her friends had passed around a black stud. Still he loved her so; her elegance beguiled him. He knew what would happen when he told her he would take Glenn and Dorothy to Peter Luger's Steak House.

"You know I don't eat red meat," she would say in protest.
"Then have a shrimp cocktail," he would say.

The steak was tremendous but it stayed with Glenn until the evening and caused his stomach to growl worse than it had the night before. Even after they were seated in the concert hall, even after Zubin Mehta assumed the podium, there came from the depth of his being eruptions of a most aggressive nature. If a recording had been made of the performance that night it would have captured Glenn's roaring stomach. The finale of the program, Stravinsky's Petrushka Suite, drowned his stomach out. The brass section was so loud that Betty looked over to see Dorothy covering her ears but latter in Gillies Coffee Shop, Glenn mentioned that his stepson, Daniel, a trumpet player, often practiced one of the trumpet solos in Petrushka. Betty seemed startled to hear this.

"Yes," said Glenn, "Daniel writes orchestra music."

For this statement he got a dismissive glance until he said, "Daniel wrote the Camp David Peace Song. Went to Israel and presented it to the Prime Minister there and went to Egypt and presented it to President Sadat."

Upon hearing this Betty came back around.

FRIDAY

Glenn told Lewis that he and Dorothy needed time to themselves on Friday. What they ended up doing was having lunch at the Carnegie Deli, a large pastrami on an egg bagel for Glenn plus cheesecake and later tickets to see The Rockettes Matinee.

At the same time, Lewis found Betty in her study looking out at the park and reading Edgar Guest.

"When you get to know a fellow,
Know his joys and know his cares,
When you've come to understand him

and the burdens that he bears,
When you've learned the fight he's making

and the troubles in his way,
Then you find that he is different

than you thought him yesterday."

Lewis was reading over her shoulder.
"Not exactly ‘little birds with scarlet legs

sitting on their speckled eggs.'"

"No, he's not Auden," said Betty, "but he was one of my grandmother's favorite versifiers and she had this book. I found this copy at Parnassus Books in Chelsea. Look here's a card that was stuck between the pages. "It was mailed from Kruka College, November 28, 1926.

‘Dear Mrs. Kress, You don't know how good those dates tasted-they were delicious and we enjoyed them just loads. It was so sweet of you to send them. I was so thrilled when I found I had a package. We had a lovely Thanksgiving here but I did so wish mother and dad could have been with me. I just had to cry when I saw so many mothers and fathers here, but don't tell them that. Just think-two weeks from Friday we go home for Christmas-it doesn't seem possible. I am giving a little supper party here in my room at nine tonight so I must get things ready. Thank you again for your remembrance-Lovingly Reba.'

"Now, I would guess that Reba would be in her sixties. I wonder if she could have imagined what the world would come to when she wrote this. I mean Hitler was an obscure man in prison, I believe."

Lewis stood in awe of this beautiful, caring woman who was his wife.

Betty looked up at her husband, "I was reading Sylvia Plath before; what a difference but what I wanted to say was I know George was right. The Reeves' are out of sync."

"The problem is you, my dear, and your reverse Provincialism," said Lewis. "Have you ever seen those maps that show everything on the other side of the Hudson foreshortened. I mean America is just a little peninsula of New York. That's the way bi-coastal people see it; they get in a plane and fly over America. When they arrive on the West Coast all they've seen is a five hour blur but if you get in a car and drive out to Illinois and on to Colorado, you'll realize what a vast country we have and it's inhabited mostly by Americans-people like the Reeves'. They don't give a damn about New York or L.A. They've got their own thing and they're in the majority-the vast majority."

"Oh, Lewis, you turn me on when you get so exercised," said Betty as she took her chemise off and stood there, her nipples erect and the black vee of her pubic hair aglow. She drew Lewis in like a magnet.

FRIDAY EVENING Café Carlyle

"Whenever skies look grey to me, whenever friends say you're through, whenever the blues become my only song, I concentrate on you."

Betty sang along with Bobby Short. "He's our favorite," she said, "year after year you can count on him."

"He's a little like Dan," said Glenn, "they sing some of the same songs."

"the more I hear about Dan," said Betty, "the more I want to meet him."

If Glenn and Dorothy had stayed in better touch with Daniel they would have known that the very week that they were spending with Lewis and Betty was the same week that Daniel and Terry were playing the Americana Hotel in Manhattan. There was a time when Daniel would have called them and told them, "I'll be in New York next week, I'll be in Atlantic City next week, I'll be in Vegas or whatever. But he never called them any more because they didn't care, it didn't mean anything to them. The bottom line was that Daniel wasn't playing Country and Western music for Glenn's taste and he wasn't playing gospel or in latter years, the second-rate pop that disguised itself as religious rock. No interest, no communication.

But had they known that Daniel was in Manhattan would they have brought Lewis and Betty to see him or would they have been embarrassed by his music and his audience-the strange mixture of married couples, mostly Republican types, of gays and the wealthy. There was a hip element too-people who found something in Daniel's music that he didn't know was there; people like the founder of the Daniel Paris Fan Club who called Daniel's first album "psychodelic folk". Neither word had entered Daniel's mind when he wrote and performed the songs in question, but no matter. There were very notable people in his following. Herold Ford, who claimed relationship to Henry Ford, Jr. drove in from Wellsville with his wife, Flip. Who would have ever thought that this formal, overly correct man, who had a Rembrandt in his hallway and a collection of Lucian Freud's in his three-story mansion found something in Daniel's music that drew him back time and time again. Even after he developed a heart condition, he would drive hundreds of miles to find that thing that reached deep inside of him.

In the end, Glenn and Dorothy would not be taking Lewis and Betty to the Americana and Daniel would not even know they were in town.

To Glenn and Dorothy's surprise, Bobby came over to their table at the end of his set. They were introduced as being from West Virginia. "But actually, we're from Illinois," said Dorothy.

"Illinois!" said Bobby with a big smile, "I'm from Danville, Danville, Illinois."

"Oh my," said Dorothy.

"Oh my," said Bobby, "I know from the way you say ‘oh my' that you're from Illinois."

He bent down and Betty kissed him on the cheek and soon he was back at it, "Bought you a fur coat for Christmas and a diamond ring, a big Cadillac car and everything. Ah, gee, baby what else can I do. Ah gee, baby ain't I good to you."

"That was our best night with Lewis and Betty," Glenn said when they were back at the hotel. I enjoyed that."

"And you had too many drinks," said Dorothy-three grasshoppers; you're gonna turn green."

That night Betty wrote in her journal, "Tonight wasn't so bad. They loved Bobby Short. I'm very curious about this Daniel person. I guess when all is said and done I've been a little bit of a snot-nosed snob but Lord knows I can't help myself."

SATURDAY

The next morning Glenn and Dorothy were at the Thaler apartment by ten. George Goodwyn was there as was Lewis' nephew, Reggie.

"He went to Wharton School of Business," said Lewis, "now he's a trader at Goldman Sacs."

Glenn couldn't figure out why the nephew was there until he was told that he would be a witness. Lewis' lawyer, Leonard Cohen, showed up a few minutes later.

"I'm Leonard Cohen," he said with a handshake, "not the songwriter."

Rabbi Halpern had been asked over to recite a Bor'chu but he declined because it was Shabbat. Glenn was terribly relieved once the contract was signed. He wouldn't have to eat anything strange.
It wasn't until they got into New Jersey that Glenn began to relax. He said to Dorothy, "Break out that Ronnie Millsap cassette."

They had hardly heard two songs when Glenn pulled off for gas and stared at the Roy Rogers sign. "What's a Roy Rogers Restaurant?" he asked the filling station attendant.

"Oh, they've got everything in there. It's burgers, shakes, pies, cakes, whatever you need."

And so they went in and Glenn proceeded to run his blood sugar up to dangerously high levels, but that didn't matter to him. He would soon be in Pennsylvania and at that moment he would be home-safely off of the East Coast, heading for the Pennsylvania Turnpike and the hills and tunnels that lay ahead.

"I guess they wanted to show us a good time," said Dorothy.
Glenn smiled in agreement and said, "But they just didn't know how to do it. One of these days I'll run Lewis to Nashville and we'll have a good ol' time; or maybe take him to New Orleans at Mardi Gras."

"And eat at Popeyes," said Dorothy.

When they got home a day latter, they held forth in the family room with an audience of neighbors and the maid, known in Sterling as the "hired help". When Derrick came along later they described the ballet and the ballerina who stood on her tiptoes with her two legs vertical.

"How did she look?" asked Derrick with a grin.

"She looked pretty good," said Glenn with a wink.

"Oh, shaw," said Dorothy, "Glenn wasn't paying any attention to the dance at all, he was just waiting for those moments when the ballerina had her legs spread apart." There was laughter all around.

Glenn described the Rocketts the way a little boy would describe Christmas and once again Dorothy, slightly blushing, slapped him on top of his hand and said, "You see, he wasn't paying attention to the dance."

Glenn laughed for a moment and then said, "New York is the kingdom of the crotch shot."

There were enough descriptions of it all to last for days, even weeks and in Sterling some of these got passed around the town. All in all the trip had been a huge success.

When it was all said and done Glenn understood something that he had never understood before. What had happened in New York had helped him understand for the first time what separated him from Daniel. Daniel was just like Lewis Thaler, he was Jewish like Lewis; and like Lewis he not only liked classical music but actually wrote it. He sang and played jazz the way Bobby Short did and this had all come about years before in Tokyo and Los Angeles and Vegas and London and other places that Daniel had been.

Glenn thought about this while he sat in the Blazer with the motor idling. All these years when Daniel came home he had been as out of place as Glenn had been in New York but Daniel always played it on Glenn's terms. He always talked in Glenn's language. He knew Glenn's world as well as he knew his own.

In New York, Lewis felt the entire week had been one faux pas after the other and he said as much to his nephew, Reggie and his wife. "We dragged them up and down the streets to one cultural event after another. George Goodwyn saw it as clearly as night and day. You should have taken them to see the Rocketts, he said. His real meaning was that I was piling misery upon misery for these poor people."

Of course Betty disagreed, "Why come to New York if you don't see what New York has to offer."

"Well, they liked the steaks at Peter Luger's," said Lewis.

"It's too bad they're not here tonight we could all go see the L' Elisir d' Amore," said Reggie.

Betty held up her martini and gave a little snort, "They would hate it," she said.

"How could they hate it when the tenor sings Una Furtiva Lagrima."

"Oh, they would," said Betty before she gulped her drink down.

"The whole week, when you really get down to it," said Lewis, "was just like a play."

"Or," said Reggie, "an opera."

Because of its length, the following chapter will run Thursday, August 28 through Monday, September 1.

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