The Stars Shine Down (6 page)

C
hicago was a revelation. Halifax had been the largest city Lara had ever seen, but it was like a hamlet compared to the giant of the Midwest. Chicago was a loud and noisy city, bustling and energetic, and everyone seemed to be hurrying to some important destination.

Lara checked into the Stevens Hotel. She took one look at the smartly dressed women walking through the lobby and became self-conscious about the clothes she was wearing.
Glace Bay, yes,
Lara thought.
Chicago, no.
The following morning, Lara went into action. She visited Kane’s and Ultimo for designer dresses, Joseph’s for shoes, Saks Fifth Avenue and Marshall Field’s for lingerie, Trabert and Hoeffer for jewelry, and Ware for a mink coat. And every time she bought something, she heard her father’s voice saying,
“I’m nae made of money. Get yourself something frae the Salvation Army Citadel.”
Before her shopping spree was over, the closets in her hotel suite were filled with beautiful clothes.

Lara’s next move was to look in the yellow pages of the telephone book under “Real Estate Brokers.” She selected the one that had the largest advertisement, Parker & Associates. Lara telephoned and asked to speak to Mr. Parker.

“May I tell him who’s calling?”

“Lara Cameron.”

A moment later a voice said, “Bruce Parker speaking. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a location where I can put up a beautiful new hotel,” Lara said.

The voice at the other end of the phone grew warmer. “Well, we’re experts at that, Mrs. Cameron.”

“Miss
Cameron.”

“Right. Did you have any particular area in mind?”

“No. To tell you the truth, I’m not really familiar with Chicago.”

“That’s no problem. I’m sure we can line up some very interesting properties for you. Just to give me an idea of what we’re looking for, how much equity do you have?”

Lara said proudly, “Three million dollars.”

There was a long silence. “Three million dollars?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to build a beautiful new hotel?”

“Yes.”

Another silence.

“Were you interested in building or acquiring something in the inner city area, Miss Cameron?”

“Of course not,” Lara said. “What I have in mind is exactly the opposite. I want to build an exclusive boutique hotel in a nice area that…”

“With an equity of three million dollars?” Parker chuckled. “I’ m afraid we’re not going to be able to help you.”

“Thank you,” Lara said. She replaced the receiver. She had obviously called the wrong broker.

She went back to the yellow pages again and made half a dozen more calls. By the end of the afternoon Lara was forced to face reality. None of the brokers was interested in trying to find a prime location where she could build a hotel with a down payment of three million dollars. They had offered Lara a variety of suggestions, and they had all come down to the same thing: a cheap hotel in an inner city area.

Never,
Lara thought.
I’ll go back to Glace Bay first.

She had dreamed for months about the hotel she wanted to build, and in her mind it was already a reality—beautiful, vivid, three-dimensional. Her plan was to turn a hotel into a real home away from home. It would have mostly suites, and each suite would have a living room and a library with a fireplace in each room, and be furnished with comfortable couches, easy chairs, and a grand piano. There would be two large bedrooms and an outside terrace running the length of the apartment. There would be a Jacuzzi and a minibar. Lara knew exactly what she wanted. The question was how she was going to get it.

Lara walked into a printshop on Lake Street. “I would like to have a hundred business cards printed up, please.”

“Certainly. And how will the cards read?”

“ ‘Miss Lara Cameron,’ and at the bottom, ‘Real Estate Developer.’ ”

“Yes, Miss Cameron. I can have them for you in two days.”

“No. I would like them this afternoon, please.”

The next step was to get acquainted with the city.

Lara walked along Michigan Avenue and State Street and La Salle, strolled along Lake Shore Drive and wandered
through Lincoln Park with its zoo and golf course and lagoon. She visited the Merchandise Mart and went to Kroch-Brentano’s and bought books about Chicago. She read about the famous who had made Chicago their home: Carl Sandburg, Frank Lloyd Wright, Louis Sullivan, Saul Bellow. She read about the pioneer families of Chicago—the John Bairds and Gaylord Donnelleys, the Marshall Fields and Potter Palmers, and Walgreens—and she passed by their homes on Lake Shore Drive and their huge estates in suburban Lake Forest. Lara visited the South Side, and she felt at home there because of all the ethnic groups: Swedes, Poles, Irish, Lithuanians. It reminded her of Glace Bay.

She took to the streets again, looking at buildings with For Sale signs, and she went to see the listed brokers. “What’s the price of that building?”

“Eighty million dollars…”

“Sixty million dollars…”

“ A hundred million dollars…”

Her three million dollars was becoming more and more insignificant. Lara sat in her hotel room considering her options. Either she could go to one of the slum sections of the city and put up a little hotel there, or she could return home. Neither choice appealed to her.

I’ve too much at stake to give up now,
Lara thought.

The following morning Lara stopped in at a bank on La Salle Street. She walked up to a clerk behind the counter. “I would like to speak to your vice-president, please.”

She handed the clerk her card.

Five minutes later she was in the office of Tom Peterson, a flaccid middle-aged man, with a nervous tic. He was studying her card.

“What can I do for you, Miss Cameron?”

“I’m planning to put up a hotel in Chicago. I’ll need to borrow some money.”

He gave her a genial smile. “That’s what we’re here for. What kind of hotel were you planning to build?”

“A beautiful boutique hotel in a nice area.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“I have to tell you,” Lara said, “that I only have three million dollars to put down, and…”

He smiled. “No problem.”

She felt a thrill of excitement. “Really?”

“Three million can go a long way if you know what to do with it.” He looked at his watch. “I have another appointment now. I wonder if we could get together for dinner tonight and talk about this.”

“Certainly,” Lara said. “That would be fine.”

“Where are you staying?”

“At the Palmer House.”

“Why don’t I pick you up at eight?”

Lara got to her feet. “Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how good you make me feel. Frankly, I was beginning to get discouraged.”

“No need,” he said. “I’m going to take good care of you.”

At eight o’clock Tom Peterson picked up Lara and took her to Henrici’s for dinner. When they were seated, he said, “You know, I’m glad that you came to me. We can do a lot for each other.”

“We can?”

“Yes. There’s a lot of ass around this town, but none of it as beautiful as yours, honey. You can open a luxury whorehouse and cater to an exclusive…”

Lara froze. “I beg your pardon?”

“If you can get half a dozen girls together, we…”

Lara was gone.

The following day Lara visited three more banks. When she explained her plans to the manager of the first bank, he said, “I’m going to give you the best advice you’ll ever get: Forget it. Real estate development is a man’s game. There’s no place for women in it.”

“And why is that?” Lara asked tonelessly.

“Because you’d be dealing with a bunch of macho roughnecks. They’d eat you alive.”

“They didn’t eat me alive in Glace Bay,” Lara said.

He leaned forward. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Chicago is not Glace Bay.”

At the next bank the manager said to her, “We’ll be glad to help you out, Miss Cameron. Of course, what you have in mind is out of the question. What I would suggest is to let us handle your money and invest it…”

Lara was out of his office before he finished his sentence.

At the third bank Lara was ushered into the office of Bob Vance, a pleasant-looking gray-haired man who looked exactly as the president of a bank should look. In the office with him was a pale, thin, sandy-haired man in his early thirties, wearing a rumpled suit and looking completely out of place.

“This is Howard Keller, Miss Cameron, one of our vice-presidents.”

“How do you do?”

“What can I do for you this morning?” Bob Vance asked.

“I’m interested in building a hotel in Chicago,” Lara said, “and I’m looking for finance.”

Bob Vance smiled. “You’ve come to the right place. Do you have a location in mind?”

“I know the general area I want. Near the Loop, not too far from Michigan Avenue…”

“Excellent.”

Lara told him about her boutique hotel idea.

“That sounds interesting,” Vance said. “And how much equity do you have?”

“Three million dollars. I want to borrow the rest.”

There was a thoughtful pause. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Your problem
is that you have big ideas and a small purse
. Now, if you would like us to invest your money for you…”

“No, thank you,” Lara said. “Thanks for your time. Good afternoon, gentlemen.” She turned and left the office, fuming. In Glace Bay three million dollars was a fortune. Here people seemed to think it was nothing.

As Lara reached the street, a voice said, “Miss Cameron!”

Lara turned. It was the man she had been introduced to—Howard Keller. “Yes?”

“I’d like to talk to you,” he said. “Perhaps we could have a cup of coffee.”

Lara stiffened.
Was everyone in Chicago a sex maniac?

“There’s a good coffee shop just around the corner.”

Lara shrugged. “All right.”

When they had ordered, Howard Keller said, “If you don’t mind my butting in, I’d like to give you some advice.”

Lara was watching him, wary. “Go ahead.”

“In the first place, you’re going about this all wrong.”

“You don’t think my idea will work?” she asked stiffly.

“On the contrary. I think a boutique hotel is a really great idea.”

She was surprised. “Then why…?”

“Chicago could use a hotel like that, but I don’t think you should build it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would suggest that instead you find an old hotel in a
good location and remodel it. There are a lot of rundown hotels that can be bought at a low figure. Your three million dollars would be enough equity for a down payment. Then you could borrow enough from a bank to refurbish it and turn it into your boutique hotel.”

Lara sat there thinking. He was right. It was a better approach.

“Another thing, no bank is going to be interested in financing you unless you come in with a solid architect and builder. They’ll want to see a complete package.”

Lara thought about Buzz Steele. “I understand. Do you know a good architect and builder?”

Howard Keller smiled. “Quite a few.”

“Thanks for your advice,” Lara said. “If I find the right site, could I come back and talk to you about it?”

“Any time. Good luck.”

Lara was waiting for him to say something like “Why don’t we talk it over at my apartment?” Instead all Howard Keller said was: “Would you care for more coffee, Miss Cameron?”

Lara roamed the downtown streets again, but this time she was looking for something different. A few blocks from Michigan Avenue, on Delaware, Lara passed a prewar rundown transient hotel. A sign outside said,
CONG ESSI NAL HOTEL
. Lara started to pass it, then suddenly stopped. She took a closer look. The brick facade was so dirty that it was difficult to tell what its original color had been. It was eight stories high. Lara turned and entered the hotel lobby. The interior was even worse than the exterior. A clerk dressed in jeans and a torn sweater was pushing a derelict out the door. The front desk looked more like a ticket window than a reception area. At one end of the lobby was a staircase leading to what once were meeting rooms, now turned into rented
offices. On the mezzanine Lara could see a travel agency, a theater ticket service, and an employment agency.

The clerk returned to the front desk. “You wanna room?”

“No. I wanted to know…” She was interrupted by a heavily made-up young woman in a tight-fitting skirt. “Give me a key, Mike.” There was an elderly man at her side.

The clerk handed her a key.

Lara watched the two of them head for the elevator.

“What can I do for you?” the clerk asked.

“I’m interested in this hotel,” Lara said. “Is it for sale?”

“I guess everything’s for sale. Is your father in the real estate business?”

“No,” Lara said, “I am.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Oh. Well, the one you want to talk to is one of the Diamond brothers. They own a chain of these dumps.”

“Where would I find them?” Lara asked.

The clerk gave her an address on State Street.

“Would you mind if I looked around?”

He shrugged. “Help yourself.” He grinned. “Who knows, you might wind up being my boss.”

Not if I can help it,
Lara thought.

She walked around the lobby, examining it closely. There were old marble columns lining the entrance. On a hunch, Lara pulled up an edge of the dirty, worn carpet. Underneath was a dull marble floor. She walked up to the mezzanine. The mustard-colored wallpaper was peeling. She pulled away an edge of it, and underneath was the same marble. Lara was becoming more and more excited. The handrail of the staircase was painted black. Lara turned to make sure that the room clerk was not watching and took out her key from the Stevens Hotel and scratched away some of the paint. She found what she was hoping for, a solid brass railing. She approached the elevators that were painted with
the same black paint, scratched a bit away, and found more brass.

Lara walked back to the clerk, trying to conceal her excitement. “I wonder if I might look at one of the rooms.”