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Array
(
[sid] => 135574
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Big Al 15
[time] => 2007-06-27 00:42:51
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I called Gloria DuPrey at seven that evening. After a brief conversation I drove over to the Sheldon Arms on Sheridan Road to take her to the Yacht Club for supper. The Sheldon Arms was Beaux-Arts architecture of a French Renaissance style that showed a lot of towers and dormer being capped by a mansard roof. The whole thing was blazed brick, terra cotta, limestone with rusticated stonework and balconies. There a cartouche with building’s name on its upper facade. I would say that it cost Gloria DuPrey a pretty penny to live at the Sheldon Arms. The elevator took me to the third floor. I found the room number she had given me over the phone and pressed the door buzzer. She answered the buzzer in a bayish color dinner gown of satin crepe. Her auburn hair had been bobbed since I last saw her. She smiled letting me enter. Her words came to me soft and sweet as I stood in the middle of the room hat in hand. “I like a man who keeps his word. You’re on time too. Have a seat. We have a few minutes before we have to leave. My chauffeur will drive us.” She stood close to me adjusting a brown cloth belt girdle around her hips. A bow on the left dropped belt’s flow down to an ankle. It all looked very French. I replied to her words with my best smile. “ Never keep a lady waiting, they say.” I found a Le Corbusier armchair and sat. Its mate, a three seater sofa of the same design was across the room. Both were upholstered in dark brown leather. In front of the sofa was as chromed steel coffee table of tubular design. To the left of the sofa was an Eileen Gray side table of matching tubular steel with a glass top that held a silver plated Art Deco table lamp modernistic design. The lamp looked like it had a cobalt crystal ball finial just above its base. On opposite walls were single Dali Surrealistic prints. The rug was nothing to brag a bout, just ankle dep white knap “ May I get you a drink?” she asked having finished adjusting her hip bow. “ I think I can find something around here. Scotch, whisky?” “ Scotch will do.” She left to go into the kitchen returning with a shot glass full of my poison. It was good hooch. Sitting on the sofa across from me she spoke. ‘ We have reservations at eight o’clock. Irving Aaronson and his Commanders are there tonight. I love to hear Gene Krupa on the drums. Do you like the Commanders?” “ I like Artie Shaw’s clarinet and Claude Thornhill’s piano. Thornhill’s written some good arrangement for the Commanders.” “ I hope they play Cole Porter’s Lets Misbehave. Do you like that song?” “ Ab-so-lute-ly.” She smiled adjusting the bow at her hip again. “Copacetic. We’re going to have a good time tonight.” “ Nothing but a good time when you’re with me, doll.” I gave her my shot glass salute. “ Did you have a good time at the hockey game last night?” I knew she wanted to know about my date. “ I won some money,” I said evasively. Whenever you win, it’s a good time.” She wasn’t to be put off. “ I mean the deb you took. What’s her name?” “ Jean Harlew.” “ She’s your secretary?” “ Yes.” “ She’s very attractive.” “ Yes, but let’s not talk about her.” “ What should we talk about?” “ Shoes and ships, candle wax, cabbages and kings.” “And why the sea is boiling hot – And whether pigs have wings.” “ I see you’ve read.” “ Every girl’s read Through the Looking Glass.” Out conversation continued in this inane manner until it was time to go. She called downstairs for her car. At the Yacht Club we were led by the maitre de to a table overlooking the lake. The Commanders were playing a piece of jazz called An’Furthermore backing Phil Saxe and chorus in singing Aaronson’s lyrics. Gloria had slipped into a mink cape before leaving the Sheldon Arms and I helped her pace it over the back of her chair before we sat down. The maitre de immediately gave us menus along with his ten dollar smile. “ I’ll have the best waiter serve you when you’re ready, Mister Berger.” She was surprised the maitre de knew me. “ Do you come here often?” she asked. “ On occasion. Claude Thornhill and I are good friends. I like his piano style.” “ Does business bring you here?” “ Business. What business?” “ Oh, I thought you might bring clients to the Yacht Club for entertainment.” “ That’s happened.” “ You meet a lot interesting people who like antiques.” “ Yes, I sometimes meet interesting people. You interest me.” “ I feel complimented. How do I interest you?” “ You’re attractive and I like attractive women. How long have you lived in Chicago?” “ Not always, but a fair amount of time. I lived in New York city before coming here.” “ New York city is a nice place to be from. Your inheritance must have brought you to Chicago.” “ Yes, and I’m looking forward to the decorating of my new home with your antiques. You know you can bring anyone you want to my open house party. They don’t have to be clients only whom you might want to impress. You must have friends with mutual interests other than antiques you’d might want to bring.” “ I’m rather a one interest man. You might say I have tunnel vision. The antique business keeps me busy. What people will be at your open house?” “ Personal friends like the Forsyths. Other from the Colony Club. Maybe a few from New York city. You’ll like them all. No stuff shirts.” “ Your chauffeur reminds me of a guy I once knew from New York who represented an organization dealing in investments. Take you chauffeur out of his uniform and you could say he was dead ringer.” “ Yes, my chauffeur is from New York, but he’s never been into investments. Before driving for me, he drove for my father.” “ What kind of work did your father do?” “ He owned a company that made loans.” “Always a god rate of interest in that line of work.” “ I guess so, I don’t think all the loans he made were paid back though.” “ Well, you can’t win ‘em all.” “ Have you always been an antique dealer?” “ As long as the stock market booms I’ll stay with it. People are making a great deal of money in the market these days and they like to buy things. Some of the things they like to buy are antiques. I make them happy by helping them find what they’re looking for. Like I did for you.” She agreed. “ Like you did for me. You’re a very easy man to business with. You’re knowledgeable and have the right connections.” She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “ I’m glad you called taking up my offer of a date a the Yacht Club. This is an exiting place to be, and as I said before, you’re an exciting person to be with. You have that extra something that I like. I think there is an element of danger in you. Something tells me you’re more than an antique dealer. I’d like to find out if I’m right?” I changed the subject asking if she were ready to order. We spent the next hour eating and fencing with words, trying to find out more about each other. When the evening was over and her chauffeur had driven us back to the Sheldon Arms, I still didn’t know what her angle was. She’d been pumping me plenty I knew, but for what reason? Then again, we were both doing the same thing. Two things I did know, she was a liar and her chauffeur was from Toronto, not New York city. His name was Thomas Madsen, a dangerous torpedo for an eastern Sicilian mob. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 144 [topic] => 21 [informant] => ramfire [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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