The Campus Trilogy (23 page)

“A half a million?” I was astounded.

“He's worth every penny. It's important for morale that the college wins at football. When we win, the donations go up. Today's match will bring in at least another million. So you see, he makes his money.”

“Football's that important?”

“Keeps the college going. Pays your salary. Can't survive without it, Professor!” I felt I was in a very strange world. I wondered if Sweetpea put an equal emphasis on intellectual activities.

The following week we were invited to join Manford and Sherrie Wachman at the Tam O'Shanter country club for lunch. Rabbi Wally was visiting from London, and they thought we would like to see each other again. We parked the Rolls in the car park; I looked forlornly at the bonnet and wondered how much it would cost to replace the missing winged victory. I cheered up when I saw our hosts waiting for us in the lobby. Wally was wearing a purple polo shirt and a skull cap; Sherrie was in a white tennis outfit and Manford was dressed for golf. Sherrie led us to a table overlooking the tennis court as Manford followed behind greeting friends at every table.

Eventually Manford sat down and the kilted waiter took our order. “How was your trip?” I asked Wally, who was sitting next to Victoria. He had ordered a plain green salad.

“Tiring. Now,” he paused, “I have some news for you. You'll remember the Golds, I'm sure … I'm afraid there have been some further difficulties about the daughter.”

Victoria and I looked at each other. “I think we may know,” I said. “A friend of mine just sent an email …”

“It's been a real crisis. Lisa has run off with one of the most prominent members of my synagogue. His wife is prostrate. It appears they've gone to the Caribbean together. I can't imagine what will happen to his patients, let alone his children. It's very upsetting and difficult.”

“Wally doesn't know which side to be on,” Sherrie was teasing her brother-in-law. “Both Doctor Chevre and Mr Gold
have been presidents of the synagogue at one time or another. Mrs Chevre is the daughter of one of the founders of the congregation. But the Golds are richer. Isn't that right, Wally? So it's a bit of a problem who to support.”

“It's nothing to do with that,” the rabbi spoke with some dignity. “People's feelings are at stake; so is the welfare of the children; and it is clear that both Lisa and Sharon Chevre need help. As a rabbi, it's my duty to give a moral lead. I've got to say something.”

“And if not now, when?” said Manford.

“Anyway, enough of that,” Wally said changing the subject. “I understand there's been a ball here in your honour.”

“It was wonderful,” Sherrie said. “There was a huge crowd. And it was Victoria's birthday, too. We all sang ‘Happy
Birthday
', and then Thomas Jefferson gave her a lovely silver bowl as a present.”

“We were touched,” Victoria said.

“It was at the Sweetpea Country Club?” Wally asked.

“You know,” I said. “I really don't understand about
American
country clubs. Is it true there are restrictions on who can belong to the Sweetpea Country Club?”

Manford took a deep breath, “In the past,” he said, “Jews and blacks were excluded. But that's all changed now – with a little nudge from the Supreme Court. Sherrie and I have been asked to join many, many times. But we like it here.” He waved to an elderly couple who were just entering the dining room.

“So you could belong if you wanted to? You don't have to be members of a Jewish country club?”

Sherrie put her arm around Manford. “Look,” she said. “You've got to try and understand. We go to all the gentile functions. And Manny is a trustee of the college. But we don't really belong and we never will.”

Sherrie's tennis clothes were immaculate; her nails and
lipstick
matched perfectly and her hair was an ambitious shade of gold. She looked like a woman who never thought of anything more serious than the whiteness of her laundry or the decor of her bathroom. But she clearly had something important to say. She leaned forward.

“There's still antisemitism in Sweetpea. Everyone's very polite, but you know it's there. I think the minute Jews forget and think that the world has changed so much that there is no Jew-hatred, that's when you have problems like a Hitler. I know about this. My mother's cousins back in Hungary were in with the government. They thought they were different; they thought they'd be safe. They weren't. They were carted off like everybody else …. I'm happy to go to parties at the Sweetpea Country Club when I'm asked, but I don't want to sit round their pool. No. I'm comfortable here. These are my people and this is where I belong.”

There was a silence around the table. Victoria and I looked at each other. We were both thinking the same thing. Where did we belong? Where had we ever belonged?

After lunch, we said goodbye to Wally and Sherrie. Manford walked us to our car. “Oh dear,” he said looking at the Rolls. “I see your winged victory is missing. I hope nobody here at the club took it.”

“No, it happened last week. We went to see some friends in Railroad City.”

“You took that car to Railroad City?” Manford was
incredulous
. “I'm not surprised you lost your statuette. I'm only amazed you still have four wheels!”

I looked crestfallen. “Will it be very difficult to get a
replacement
?”

Manford laughed as he shook my hand. “I've got a big box of them. They're always getting stolen. Come by any day this week and I'll give you a new one.”

Before term started, we received another email and photograph from Magnus. He was sitting on a horse wearing a cowboy hat surrounded by a group of white-haired ladies. He looked decidedly out-of-focus.

Victoria was extremely amused. “Magnus is going to end up like the
Flying Dutchman
, endlessly travelling the world!” she said.

The next evening Oscar and Nancy drove us to a meeting of the Sweetpea Alumni Association at the Sweetpea Club in Washington. This was their monthly get-together, and I was to be the main speaker. Oscar asked if I would give a little talk about the award ceremony at Buckingham Palace. He wanted me to show the video of when I was given my OBE. Although I told him it would be inappropriate, he insisted I wear my medal.

The Sweetpea Club was located in Georgetown in the same street as the Lazy Daisy Club. Over the entrance was the crest of the college. Inside a group of about sixty men and women were chatting in the lobby. The walls were lined with portraits of former presidents of the college as well as watercolours of
some of the older college buildings. Oscar took us to a bar in the corner of the room. A waiter handed us fruit punch and another came around with large trays of canapés. At seven we went into the dining room, which was named after George Washington Wombat who had founded the club. The Wombat Dining Room was a large circular chamber with striped burgundy wallpaper. Over the mantle, there was a large portrait of George Washington Wombat himself wearing an academic gown and mortarboard. He certainly filled the canvas.

Before we sat down, Oscar asked me to say grace. After
dinner
, one of the club servants brought in a large television and video recorder. Oscar introduced me as the new Thomas
Jefferson
Porpoise Distinguished Professor of Ethics. He explained that I was recently given an award by the Queen of England, and that my talk would be about the British honours system. I felt foolish wearing my medal, and even more ridiculous showing the video.

Afterwards, there were a number of questions. One elderly gentleman asked if I had met the Duchess of Cornwall, the erstwhile Mrs Parker-Bowles. This was followed by a heated exchange between several alumni about the respective merits of Princess Diana and Camilla. An elegant woman wearing a silk print dress asked if I had made the acquaintance of the Queen's corgis. When my talk ended, Oscar gave a profuse vote of thanks, and reminded everyone that there were pledge forms and envelopes on the table for anyone who wished to make a donation to the college. The assembled company then stood up and, with extraordinary fervour, they all sang the college song. Victoria and I felt very embarrassed and British.

On the way back to Sweetpea, Oscar praised my address and told me how successful the evening had been. He had looked at the pledge forms before we left. The elegant woman who had asked about the corgis had donated fifty-thousand dollars. Oscar explained that her late husband had graduated from the college over sixty years ago and had made a fortune in manufacturing cardboard containers.

“Harry,” he urged, “this talk of yours is a winner. Everyone in this country wants to know about the royal family. We would be so grateful if you would do it again sometimes. You see there
are alumni meetings all round the country, and everyone would be interested in your experiences.”

From the back seat, Nancy effused about the video. “It's so colourful,” she exclaimed. “All that pageantry. We have nothing like that in the United States.”

As Oscar drove us to the cottage, he emphasized the
importance
of donations to the college. Then he went on, “I'll arrange a schedule with my secretary. You mustn't be burdened with this, but I can just see the faces of our alumni in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Denver, St Louis, Minneapolis, Chicago, Boston, New York, Philadelphia and Miami when you and Victoria talk to them about the Queen. They'd all just love it.”

I was upset. Before we went to bed, I got a beer out of the refrigerator and some pretzels. “How can you eat anything else?” Victoria asked.

“Still hungry,” I said. “Look, Victoria, I didn't come here to be a fund raiser. I thought they wanted me for my books and my scholarship.”

“Don't be naive, Harry. You're here to add glamour to the college. That's why they want me, too. You heard what Thomas Jefferson said at the ball. He thinks I'm from a long line of English aristocrats.”

“Perhaps we should bring your father to live over here to add to the circus.”

“Come on Harry … you're going to have to be a sport about this. They're doing a lot for us.”

“But I'm supposed to be a professor …” I objected.

“You are a professor. But you're a professor who's an
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for Sweetpea. You'll feel better once classes start.”

During the first week, there were several days of orientation for the freshmen. My first class was to take place on Friday in the Old Confederate Hall. Before it began, I went to have a cup of coffee in the Faculty Club. The bar was largely empty except for a group surrounding Joel Perley. I heard him say, “Don't worry! He'll make a mistake before long and then we can make sure he goes.”

As I entered they looked awkward and fell silent. I went over and joined them with my coffee, but they melted away with
different excuses. I was left with Joel. “I thought I'd introduce you to the first class,” he explained.

“That's very kind of you,” I said.

As we walked over, he told me that he had just heard from John Pilkington of St Sebastian's. Apparently they knew each other. They had met the previous year at a biblical conference in Washington. I had a sinking feeling. What, I wondered, had John told him about me.

Before we reached the hall, we overtook Mimi who was strolling along accompanying a very pretty student. She had soft golden hair and wholesome pink cheeks. On her head she wore a Sweetpea baseball cap and her dress was a pastel flower print. “This is my niece Susie-Beth,” she said, “She is taking your course.” She introduced us.

I smiled at her. “Yes, you mentioned her when we came over for that delicious pie,” I said. “Are you enjoying the college, Susie-Beth?”

“Oh yes,” replied Susie-Beth. She had a soft little voice. “Auntie Mimi has been so kind.”

“Could I borrow a copy of your latest book?” Mimi asked, “It hasn't arrived in the college bookshop yet.”

I was flattered. “Sure,” I said, “Do you want to come and get it after the lecture?”

“I've got to get back to school in ten minutes. Perhaps Susie-Beth could fetch it. Would that be OK?”

Susie-Beth smiled prettily. We said good-bye to Mimi and the three of us went into the hall. There were at least a hundred students. They were tanned from the summer. Some had brought in drinks in large containers with ice. A few were talking on their mobile phones. Joel introduced me briefly and sat down. Then it was my turn.