(1988) The Golden Room (3 page)

Armbruster’s presence at the lecture, despite his discomfort, was meant to provide him with first-hand reassurance that Mayor Harrison was the man who deserved his support and contributions.

After waiting restlessly for ten minutes, Armbruster saw an alderman he knew slightly appear on the platform to introduce the principal speaker. ‘Chicago is fortunate in having a mayor who keeps his hands in his own pockets,’ the alderman quipped. This drew a round of laughter, and then the alderman announced, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honour and a privilege to introduce Mayor Carter H. Harrison.’ Most of the audience broke into hearty applause.

Immediately, Mayor Harrison came out of the wings and strode to the lectern. Over the years Armbruster had seen Harrison many times, but always from a distance at social events — or he had noticed his picture in the newspapers. Armbruster had never seen the mayor this closely, and as he observed him, he was pleased with what he saw: a sturdy, darkly handsome man with black hair neatly parted on the side, flashing eyes, and a moustache similar to Armbruster’s own, but tidier. Harrison was immaculately attired in a celluloid collar and bow tie, white shirt, navy-blue jacket over a vest and watch-chain, and sharply pressed darkish-grey trousers.

Once Harrison began speaking, Armbruster’s attention drifted off. The packing-house magnate had come to hear Harrison address Armbruster’s own interests, but instead Harrison was speaking passionately about his determination to clean up Chicago, and close down the Levee and its gambling houses and bagnios. Armbruster had no interest in this nonsense. He filtered the mayor out as his mind wandered to business matters. It was at the very end of the speech that Armbruster again became alert.

Besides his desire to clean up the city, the mayor was offering a few words about making Chicago more prosperous, adding elevated trains and extending freight transportation into the stockyards.

When Harrison’s appeal had ended, the audience was invited to line up and, in turn, shake the mayor’s hand. A long line immediately formed.

Armbruster remained squeezed into his seat, wondering what to do. Then he realized that he very much wanted Harrison elected, and he knew what he should do.

He waited restlessly for the line of well-wishers to shrink, and finally he heaved himself up and took his place as the last in line. It was half an hour before he reached the stage. He inched ahead until he was able to shake hands with the mayor.

Facing Harrison, he gripped the mayor’s limp hand and blurted, ‘I’ve wanted to meet you. I’m Harold T. Armbruster, the meat-packer -‘

Harrison’s hand tightened on Armbruster’s. The mayor beamed. ‘At last,’ he said. ‘Armour, Swift, Armbruster. I’ve always wanted to know you, and I’m honoured you came to hear my little speech.’

‘The honour is mine,’ replied Armbruster. ‘Most impressive, your speech. I’m on your side, and now I want to be a backer.’

‘A backer?’

‘I want to do everything in my power to see that you are elected again. What’s the most effective way I can support you, Mayor?’

Harrison stared at the meat-packer. ‘Well, I suppose I should be honest with you.’

‘Be honest with me.’

‘Like all politicians, I need contributions - cash donations - to be used to inform the electorate about my platform.’

‘You tell me how much,’ said Armbruster. ‘I’m prepared to help.’

Harrison coughed. ‘I… actually I don’t deal in campaign contributions directly. I have two aldermen who run my campaign. One is John Coughlin.’ The mayor gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘He’s more familiarly known as Bathhouse John, because he owned a Turkish bathhouse before venturing into politics. His partner is Michael Kenna, also an alderman, better known as Hinky Dink, because of his short stature.

They’re very astute men. They’re the men to see. They’ll know what I could use, and how it might best be spent.’

‘Where do I contact them?’ Armbruster asked.

‘Give me your card. I’ll have one of them telephone you. They’ll set a date to meet with you anywhere at your convenience.’

Armbruster handed over his card. ‘I’ll be waiting. I’ll be available all of tomorrow afternoon.’

Harrison shook the meat-packer’s hand again. ‘You are very generous, Mr Armbruster. You don’t know what a lift this gives me. It’s going to be a heated election next week, and I need every bit of help I can get.’

‘You’ve got mine,’ Armbruster promised him.

‘Of course, if there’s ever anything I can do for you, Mr Armbruster -‘

‘We’ll see,’ said Armbruster.

The following afternoon, Armbruster summoned John Coughlin and Michael Kenna - Bathhouse John and Hinky Dink — and met them in one of the private rooms reserved for members in the Chicago Club.

Armbruster observed that the pair looked like scoundrels. Coughlin wore a pompadour, long sideburns, a moustache, and was almost as beefy as Armbruster himself. Kenna was a glum little man, less flamboyant than his partner - and clearly the brains of the pair. Armbruster told himself no matter that they resembled pirates; if they were good enough for the mayor, they were good enough for him.

‘The mayor tells us you want to contribute to his campaign,’ began Coughlin.

‘I definitely want Harrison elected. How can it be guaranteed?’

Kenna spoke up. ‘Nothing in politics can be guaranteed, Mr Armbruster. But we can do our best.’

‘How much do you need?’ inquired Armbruster.

Coughlin came forward on the sofa where he sat with Kenna. ‘Let me explain the realities of the situation,’ said Coughlin. ‘The mayor can hold his own throughout the city. Where he is less popular is in the First Ward, which Hinky Dink and I represent. The First Ward is the Levee — where houses of prostitution are presently flourishing. With the” proper handling, we can still turn the First Ward around, and that could ensure the mayor’s election.’

‘What is the proper handling?’ Armbruster demanded.

‘I’ll be frank with you, sir,’ said Coughlin. ‘The First Ward is filled with pimps, tramps, the unemployed, and drunks. Distributing free drinks - whisky, beer — and cigars could go far. Added to that, a free silver dollar for each of their votes would go further.’

‘Would they really vote for Harrison?’

‘No question,’ Kenna piped up. ‘They’ll all owe us, and will be looking for more of the same in the future. They’ll vote for Harrison, all right.’

Armbruster peeled and clipped an Uppmann cigar. Coughlin bent over to light it. Armbruster inhaled and exhaled a cloud of smoke. ‘How much?’ he asked.

Coughlin glanced at Kenna, who also leaned forward. ‘$15,000 cash should do it.’

‘That’s a lot of money,’ said Armbruster.

‘That’s a lot of votes,’ said Kenna.

‘When do you need the cash?’ asked Armbruster.

‘Today,’ said Coughlin. ‘The election is next week.’

‘You’ve got it,’ said Armbruster, taking out his chequebook. ‘Go to work.’

Minutes after Armbruster had left them, Coughlin and Kenna received a telephone call from Minna Everleigh.

‘Bathhouse,’ Minna said, ‘Aida and I want to see you and Hinky Dink as soon as possible. We have some business to discuss.’

‘How soon?’ asked Coughlin.

‘Right now,’ said Minna.

‘Uncork the champagne,’ said Coughlin. ‘We’re on our way.’

A half-hour later, Coughlin and Kenna were seated on a gold divan in Minna’s beloved Gold Room, with Minna and Aida on a divan across from them.

‘You know what we want to see you about, Bathhouse,’ began Minna.

‘Haven’t the faintest idea,’ said Coughlin innocently. ‘But if we can be of service in any way -‘

‘You’re damn right you can be of service.’

‘We need some help from you,’ chimed in Aida. ‘My sister will explain.’

Minna rose and poured champagne for Coughlin and Kenna, then for Aida and herself.

She remained standing, drinking from the crystal goblet as she eyed the two aldermen. At last she spoke. ‘Bathhouse … Hinky Dink … you both know what that rotten mayor friend of yours is trying to do to us.’

‘You mean his reform movement?’ said Kenna. ‘He’s going after the entire Levee, not just you.’

‘Nonsense,’ snapped Minna. ‘There may be 200 brothels in the area, but you know and I know Harrison is after only one. He’s been very open about that in all his speeches. He wants to shut down the Everleigh Club because it is the best-known sporting house in the city, the country, the world. He wants to make an example of us. We don’t intend to let him do that. We want him beaten in this election. We want Stewart to beat him.’ Her voice rose. ‘You hear me - Aida and I cannot allow Harrison to be elected.’

‘What do you expect us to do?’ asked Coughlin.

‘Oh, come on,’ said Minna with exasperation. ‘We know you two have the First Ward in your pocket. If you can get your army here to vote against Harrison, he’ll be licked.’

‘I repeat,’ said Coughlin, ‘what do you want us to do?’

Minna put down her glass. ‘We want you to do what you’ve done for years. Buy the votes. Buy votes against Harrison.’

‘That takes considerable money,’ said Coughlin.

‘How much?’ demanded Minna, aiming her question at Kenna. ‘How much will it cost us to stay in business?’

‘$15,000 cash on the line today,’ said Kenna.

Minna whistled. ‘That’s a lot.’

‘You’re asking a lot,’ said Kenna smoothly.

Minna’s eyes went from Coughlin to Kenna. Finally, she said. ‘No. You’re skimming too much off the top for yourselves. Aida and I will offer you $10,000.’

Coughlin shrugged and said, ‘I don’t know.’ He squinted at his partner. ‘What do you think, Hinky Dink?’

Kenna stared down at the carpet. He murmured, ‘Well, of course, Minna and Aida are old friends.’

‘Okay,’ said Coughlin, meeting Minna’s gaze. ‘I guess $10,000 could do the job.’

Minna broke into a smile and picked up her glass. ‘It’s a deal.’ She swallowed her champagne. ‘Let’s go to the study and we’ll give you the money.’

John Coughlin and Michael Kenna did not discuss the newest deal they had made until they were safe in the confines of their City Hall alcove.

Seated, they both loosened their collars as Kenna poured two whiskies. ‘Quite a day,’ Kenna said.

‘Productive,’ said Coughlin.

Kenna sat down again with his whisky and drank it. ‘Okay, Bathhouse, how do we do it?’

‘Do what?’

‘How do we spend Armbruster’s money to elect Harrison and spend the Everleighs’ money to see that Harrison is not elected?’

‘Easy,’ said Coughlin, gulping his drink.

‘Yeah, how?’

Coughlin sat up. ‘We go with the highest bidder. We elect Harrison.’

‘But the Everleighs are old friends, Bathhouse.’

‘Never mind,’ said Coughlin expansively. ‘We’ll make it up to Minna and Aida after Harrison wins. We’ll elect the mayor, which will make our meat-packer happy. But we won’t let Harrison shut down the Everleigh Club. That way, both sides get what they want.’

Kenna squirmed. ‘Sounds impossible.’

Coughlin finished his whisky. ‘I don’t know. All hell’ll bust loose, but we can do it. I have a few ideas. Trust me, Hinky Dink. Everyone’s coming out on their feet - I think.’

Minna Everleigh stood beside the desk in her study, angrily rereading the front page of the Chicago Times. She glared at the headlines:

INCUMBENT DEFEATS STEWART 146,208 TO 138,548

Minna looked up as Aida returned from her telephone call. ‘Well?’ Minna asked.

‘I spoke to Bathhouse, told him you wanted to see him,’ said Aida. ‘He expected the call. He and Hinky Dink are already on their way.’

Still seething, Minna flung the newspaper on the desk. ‘Those double-crossers!’

Aida picked up the paper. She scanned the bold headlines. ‘It was close, anyway.’

‘Close only counts in bed,’ snapped Minna.

Aida continued to scan the front page. ‘Minna, listen to this. Prince Henry of Prussia, the brother of the kaiser of Germany …’

‘What about him?’

‘He’s coming to Chicago soon. Minna, he’ll attract a lot of people. It could mean more business for us.’

‘What business? We’ll be out of business. Harrison will see to that.’

‘Why don’t we find out what Bathhouse and Hinky Dink

have to say?’ pleaded Aida. ‘Here, let me pour you a whisky.’

‘Make it a double!’

Fifteen minutes later, as Minna and Aida sat brooding, Edmund the valet knocked, opened the door, and showed John Coughlin and Michael Kenna into the office.

Minna snatched up the paper and waved the front page at Coughlin. ‘After taking all of our pay-off money, how do you explain this? Your very own ward turned the tide for Harrison. How did that happen?’

‘We passed your money around,’ Coughlin said with sincerity. ‘Apparently it wasn’t enough. Someone else must have come along and outspent us.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ said Minna sharply. ‘I’ll bet you pocketed it all yourselves.’

‘Minna, I swear -‘ began Coughlin.

‘We spent it all,’ interjected Kenna. ‘Somebody on the mayor’s side just came along and bamboozled us.’

‘It makes no sense,’ persisted Minna. ‘The Levee vote was suicidal. Everyone voted against themselves. Everyone is going to be wiped out, and first of all the Everleigh sisters.’

‘No, that’s not true,’ said Coughlin. ‘That’s what I was coming over here to tell you.’

‘What do you mean, not true?’ Minna demanded.

‘Please sit down, Minna. You too, Aida, and let me explain what really happened.’ He waited for the sisters to sit, and then picked up the newspaper. ‘It says here you lost, but I can tell you that you really won.’

‘That’s a slick one, Bathhouse,’ said Minna bitterly. ‘We lost but we won.’

Coughlin pushed on. ‘Just listen to me. Hinky Dink and I were with Mayor Harrison this morning. To congratulate him. I tell the mayor, “You can do whatever you want to do with the other houses in the Levee. But you can’t close the Everleigh Club.” The mayor rears up at that. “Who says I can’t close the Everleigh Club? It’s the one whorehouse I mean to close and fast.” Then Hinky Dink speaks up and