A Million Tears (27 page)

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Authors: Paul Henke

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BOOK: A Million Tears
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‘I would like to see your manager in charge of loans, please,’ Evan saw the man’s whole demeanour change. His voice was no longer so deferential. ‘Would you mind giving me your name, address and a few other particulars and if you give me the details of what you want the loan for I shall pass on your request and you shall receive a reply in the near future.’

Evan leaned forward, smiling pleasantly. ‘Are you the man to authorise a large loan?’

‘Eh, no, sir,’ he was disconcerted by Evan’s steady stare. ‘I would have to pass your request on.’

‘That’s what I expected. Now, go and tell the man who can authorise such a loan that Evan Matthew Griffiths is out here and would like to talk to him about a large loan over a short term. Also tell him I don’t have an account here but am willing to open one with an initial deposit of twenty thousand dollars.’

The man gulped, at a loss what to do for a few moments. It’s those eyes he thought, they seem to pierce right through me. ‘Fine sir, fine,’ he tried to sound affable once more. ‘I need certain particulars anyway so that I can pass them to Mr O’Brian. As soon as he’s free I’m sure he’ll see you.’

Evan nodded and sat back.

 

BOOK 3

Uncle James’s Story

1891

 

20

 

I was sixty-two when we arrived in America and I have never wished more that I was twenty again. The opportunities were greater than I had expected and I was gratified to see Evan and my newly adopted family reach out for them. That is, I always told the boys I’d adopted them but they always said: ‘No, Uncle James, we adopted you,’ with cheeky grins plastered across their faces. I didn’t do so much around the place as I used to, getting too old I guess. But I remember back in 1891 when we first started and Evan and me, we were in New York, working non-stop. No, working is the wrong word to describe it for either of us. We put in as many as eighteen hours a day some days and enjoyed every minute of it. I have to admit I sometimes found the going tough and had to leave some of it to Evan but most of the time I was with him.

He did tell me what happened at his meeting with the bankers but I don’t recollect all the facts. The one thing that does stick in my mind is him chuckling in his characteristically throaty way and saying: ‘From somewhere he got the impression I owned similar places in Europe. But I’m sure I didn’t come right out and say so.’ He shook his head at me. ‘Uncle James, look you, we’ve got to make this work. Now what luck did you have around the docks and shipping agents?’

At the time we were in a small restaurant on Broadway and I was eating something called spaghetti, with a meat sauce and a salad covered with some sort of oil. It was my first of many meals in an Italian restaurant and I was enjoying it more than any meal I could remember. Since leaving Wales I had been eating the richest and tastiest food in my life. The people back home just had no idea what they were missing, which is just as well, I guess, as they’d all want to come over. I remember I was making a right mess of trying to eat them long thin spaghettis with my knife and fork. The restaurant was quite small with about a dozen tables scattered around, all with the same red and white chequered tablecloths. There was a heavy, warm atmosphere made up of food smells and old wine. It was run by a fat Italian woman and her short though equally fat husband who did all the cooking. She was always laughing and joking with the customers though I seldom understood what they were saying. When she saw the mess I was making she came over, took the knife and fork out of my hands and showed me how to use a fork and spoon instead. Evan almost cried with laughter and gave her a glass of wine in appreciation of the lesson.

I told Evan what I’d arranged. ‘Tomorrow we’ve got appointments with six importers of different types of goods and the day after with the general manager of the railroad to St Louis.’

‘In that case we’re going to be pretty busy. What time is the first one?’

‘Nine o’clock, the second an hour later. The thing is they’re all in the same area so we can walk from one to the next in just a few minutes. Two are even next door to each other; the carpet place and a food place.’

We talked until nearly midnight when the previous week’s lack of sleep caught up with me in spite of the long rest the night before. That night I slept like the dead.

We were bowling along in our hansom or whatever the Americans called it when Evan said to me, ‘You know, Uncle James, I would never have thought this possible even a month ago. So much has happened and is happening . . . And do you realise it’s only the beginning?’ He paused. ‘You know I used to hate getting up at five to go down the mine. Now when I get up I find it exciting . . . I look forward to whatever the day brings, the challenge. Do you know what I mean?’

I grinned. ‘If you think that way, then how do you think I feel after more years than I care to remember down that stinking black hole?’ I shuddered. ‘I saw too many deaths, too many injuries not to enjoy this – more than you can possibly know. When I think back on a life time wasted, I tell you boyo live today like there’s no tomorrow and you’ll probably have the best life imaginable.’

‘Aye, I guess you’re right. Mind you, when I get back I’ll never go anywhere else again without Meg. I miss her too much.’

I nodded. There was nothing to say to that. It had been obvious to me from the time I first got to know them that they had a marriage and a relationship that was one in a million. I envied him that. In fact, many people he met during the following years envied him more for his marriage than for his success.

The cabby pulled up. We were on the outskirts of dockland, a desolate area of rundown buildings some occupied, many empty. There were two heavy wagons parked further down the street, one of which was stacked high with goods. A couple of men in coveralls lounged against a wall but apart from that there was no activity that I could see.

‘They don’t use this place much,’ I explained to Evan. ‘They prefer to pass the goods to the customer as soon as they clear customs. That way they keep their overheads down. That’s what more than one man told me yesterday. Did I tell you one reckoned he couldn’t get enough goods to satisfy all his customers?’

Evan nodded.

‘I thought I did. An old man’s mind wandering.’

‘You aren’t old yet, Uncle James, not by a long way,’ Evan kidded me, and though I didn’t believe him it was nice to hear anyway. I coughed harshly, catching the phlegm in my handkerchief. Evan thought I was being polite, but I was doing it so he wouldn’t see the streaks of red.

I led the way up a rickety stair, uncarpeted, our footsteps a hollow tramping on the wood. The first door led to a sparsely furnished secretary’s office, a battered desk along one wall, filing cabinets stretching the length of the other and a stove in the corner next to the door. A connecting door on our right led to the boss’s office. The woman behind the desk was sixty, grey haired and as skinny as a starved ferret.

‘My name is Griffiths; we have an appointment with, eh, Mr Grundy for nine o’clock.’ The clock on the wall showed it was two minutes to the hour.

‘Yes, sir, Mr Grundy is expecting you. Just knock and go right in.’

If Evan was surprised at the informality he didn’t show it. A few moments later, the introductions over, we were seated opposite a florid faced gentleman who was somewhere between Evan’s age and mine. His office was as sparse as his secretary’s except for the fact that he had only one filing cabinet and the walls were decorated with horse racing prints.

‘Mr Grundy, I’m sure my associate here Un . . . eh . . . Mr Price, has told you more or less what I want. I’ve examined your price list and I feel there is room for negotiation.’

Grundy frowned. ‘Negotiation? I don’t think so, Mr Griffiths. That’s my price, take it or leave it.’ He spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture.

‘Maybe so, but I want to buy three thousand dollars’ worth of different food stuffs. Cash. Surely for so much money you can take something off the price?’

He laughed. ‘Mr Griffiths, I deal in sums as large if not larger every other hour, and so does every other importer and exporter in New York. By all means shop around if you like and compare my prices, but I don’t think you’ll find many offering my quality that are cheaper.’

‘I already have and I know there’s room for a little improvement.’ Evan leant forward and spoke earnestly; I was mesmerised by his tongue. After forty minutes of bargaining, Evan had got three percent off the price and also free delivery to anywhere in the city.

The day passed in a blur of similar offices and similar meetings. Even the men looked familiar to me, in their shabby suits and sitting behind shabby desks. Each time it was the same. Evan never once paid their asking price though he never managed to get more than three or four percent off. Each time, though, he got free delivery.

When we finally returned to the hotel I was exhausted, but after a hot bath I found the energy to go back to the Italian restaurant where we were greeted like long lost relatives and treated to a glass of wine. For the remainder of our stay in New York we ate dinner there.

Over an early breakfast a few days later Evan handed me lists of goods, split up into their warehouses with the prices alongside.

‘When did you do these?’ I asked incredulously.

‘Last night,’ he replied. ‘Read through them and tell me what you think. We reckon we can buy about forty thousand dollars worth of goods. We’ll know how much it will cost to get them to St. Louis later today, look you, and if there’s any money left we can buy some more.’

The railway manager’s office was the opposite of the importers and exporters. It was big, carpeted, well furnished and the walls lined with wood panelling. The man behind the desk looked almost funny enough to laugh at. Almost.

He had a large head and piercing yellow brown eyes that I found most disconcerting. He leaned across his desk to shake hands.

‘Mr Griffiths, what can I do for you?’ his voice was deep and hoarse.

‘Mr Stevanti, it’s good of you to see us at such short notice. I did tell your secretary what I wanted to see you about. I assume she passed the message on to you?’ Evan paused and waited for an answer.

After a pause Stevanti cleared his throat. ‘Eh, yes. She said something about you wanting to hire a train, though she gave no details.’

I had the impression that by making Stevanti speak first Evan had won some sort of silent contest.

‘That’s because I didn’t give her any, though I did tell her I wanted it to go to St Louis. First of all can we establish whether or not I can take a train from here straight through or will I have to change trains?’

‘I see no problem. It’ll take at least a week to arrange, fitting the train in with all the other schedules that are in operation. Now, what sort of train did you have in mind? By that I mean whether it’s for use by passengers or for goods?’

‘Goods, with one carriage for us.’

‘I see. How many trucks do you think you’ll need?’

Evan shrugged. ‘If you tell me the maximum weight one of your trains can pull and also give me details of the size of the trucks I should be able to let you know in about a week. Before we go any further how do you make up the costs?’

‘Ah, that’s simple. You pay for the use of the track over the distance involved, the hire of the engine and of each truck you require. The personnel, relief along the way and so on are part of the engine costs.’

‘Excellent. Now, if we can talk price – in general, anyway . . . Oh yes, paid cash in advance of course. I just want to get some idea of the cost.’

‘May I ask what you’re shipping to St Louis, Mr Griffiths?’

‘General goods for a new warehouse. If we can come to a satisfactory arrangement, Mr Stevanti, then I can see the possibility of a long term contract, provided the price is right.’

‘Of course,’ Stevanti’s grin was like that of a shark, toothy wide and just as false. Evan’s grin wasn’t exactly friendly either.
The meeting went on for over two hours. When we finally left the first thing Evan said was, ‘Jeez, I need a drink, Uncle James.’
We stopped in the first hotel we came to. Evan ordered a whisky and a beer chaser.

‘I hadn’t expected such a good deal,’ he said softly and suddenly grinned. ‘If we pack it right and use every bit of space, it’s going to cost us under eight thousand dollars. That’s two thousand less than I’d expected.’ He paused. ‘I thought I would never get Stevanti down that last percentage point. You know something? If I do sign a long term contract with them, I’m going to get another five percent off. Just you wait and see.’

I nodded. I was sure he’d get what he wanted.

During the next two days we saw more shipping agents and importers. We promised orders would be in by the following Tuesday and wanted confirmation they could be filled and delivered within six days. We would start loading on the following Monday and leave, hopefully, on the Wednesday, provided all went well.

We sent a telegram to Meg with our expected arrival date. By now she should have taken out a year’s lease on the warehouse, with an option to purchase after twelve months, and with luck would be well started on repainting the place.

We worked all weekend on our orders, checking weights, quantities and prices. We worked late into the night and when I left to return to my room Evan would still be hard at it.

One afternoon we took a break and hired a cab to ride around the city and its suburbs. What was immediately apparent was the incredible wealth of some and the appalling poverty of others.

‘Perhaps this country isn’t such a land of opportunity after all,’ Evan commented dryly.

‘Only for those who have the guts to take it,’ I said, looking at him. I could see the anger beneath the surface when we went through the tenement areas of brown stone buildings, crumbling and depressing. Often he gave a few cents to some of the children playing in the streets who would come clustering after us, begging.

We bought forty one thousand, six hundred and thirty four dollars worth of goods give or take a dollar or two. The railway allocated us a siding with a large, partly used shed into which we could move the merchandise, provided we moved it out again within two days. On Monday morning we were there at eight o’clock and during the next half hour twenty men arrived to help with the loading of the goods. As they arrived I directed them to a corner where we had a stove with a large tea pot, mugs, sugar and milk waiting. When all were there, Evan got their attention. ‘My name is Griffiths. The goods we’re waiting for should be arriving pretty soon. We’ll bring the buckboards in here and get the goods as close to that door there as we can,’ he nodded to his left, ‘before we take the stuff off. It’s important that each truck is filled to capacity with no empty space, before being sealed. He broke off as we heard the sound of a horse. ‘That sounds like the first buckboard now.’

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