Tuesday's Caddie

by Jack Waddell

  "Well, I knew. 'Tis a game of rules and if you're not to be playing by the rules you're not to be playing the game."

  "I like that. Listen, I want to tell you that I'm sorry you lost your caddie job here. I never intended that. And I want to make it up to you. So I want you to know I'm giving you a quarter share of the team. Same as Billy's getting from his father. Should be something north of forty two hundred dollars."

  Conor was dumbstruck. He nearly dropped his glass. He expected something but nothing like this. It was as much money as he had made his entire life. "Bob, I don't know what to say. Thanks be to you. It's to be so generous. I mean, you already paid for the practicing, the clothes…"

  "No, you earned it, believe me," Robert interrupted. "I still more than doubled my investment. And like I said, it was worth it to stick it to Babcock and Pennington and that bunch. But what I really want to talk to you about is something else."

  "What's that?" Conor asked still trying to grasp the enormous sum that was his.

  "I want you to come to work for me. I can use someone like you. You're honest, bright and people like you. And you play a hell of a game of golf. I've got customers who would love to play with somebody like you. Times are tough and we've lost some business. Lockheed is even starting to fail. I need another salesman to do some traveling and line up more business – someone who can make some deals on the golf course. I can see you doing that."

  "A job, for me? Are you serious? I'm not anybody right now."

  "I'm dead serious. You'll have a lot to learn and I can't pay you much until you start earning your keep, but I know you can do it. Look, I've made a lot of money because I know machining and I know people. And I know you. What do you say?"

  Conor stood with his mouth open for a moment. Then he replied, "It had been my intention to start another restaurant, and now I can. But…"

  "Look," Robert interrupted, "You're not going to make any money slinging hash. Not in these times when half the folks are lining up for free soup. You have more on the ball than that. You belong where there's real money to be made."

  "If you think I can, then perhaps I can," Conor said. "I owe you, Bob. If you think I can help then yes, yes it would be my honor to work for you."

  "Good. That's settled. Now let's get back inside and see what the girls have been up to."

  * * *

  Myrtle, Meg and the girls were already seated at the table chatting when Robert and Conor came in from the veranda and Charlie and Billy emerged from the grill. Meg had already determined the seating arrangements.

  "Hello, boys, glad you could finally join us," she chided. "Now, Robert, you sit here at this end of the table, Charlie you're at the other end. Billy you sit across from your mother and Conor you sit there next to Sylvia," The men did as they were bid and took their seats. Meg immediately began to preside, "So, Conor, who was that lovely young lady that gave you that big hug on the green? Does she work here?"

  "Oh, that's to be Mary, my cousin Michael’s wife. She does work here and she was most happy that we were to win," Conor replied. "She's a lovely girl, indeed. Michael's most lucky."

  "I see," Meg said pleased at the response. "I don't think you've formally met our daughter's yet. Across from you next to Billy there is our youngest, Lilith, who's in high school. And next to you is Sylvia. Sylvia is about to graduate from USC with majors in music and English."

  "Lilith, Sylvia," Conor nodded to both girls, "’Tis good to meet you."

  "And nice to meet you!" Sylvia exclaimed. "We're just so excited for you and Billy and Father. You were wonderful today."

  "Thank you," Conor said turning to better look at her. "Billy and I were just fortunate 'tis all."

  "Fortunate, my eye!" Charlie broke in. "You guys were terrific. Put your boots to their butts is what you did."

  "Charlie!" Myrtle admonished. "Watch your mouth! Look where we are!"

  Billy laughed. "No, Dad's right. We won it fair and square. Luck had nothing to do it with. Conor made the shots when we needed them."

  Conor was still caught in Sylvia's eye when Meg said, "Sylvia, tell Conor here what your plans are after graduation."

  Sylvia gave her mother a disapproving glance then looked back at Conor. "Well, I hope to get a teaching job where I can teach both English and music – so maybe at a high school. But I want to keep up with my music, too, so I want to continue with my lessons.

  "Are you to play an instrument?" Conor asked.

  "Yes, several – but the violin is my favorite."

  "And plays it like an angel!" Meg interrupted. "She's very talented don't you know."

  Sylvia's pale face flushed pink. "Oh, Mother. Stop it."

  Robert took a sip of his scotch, tapped his glass with a spoon and rose from his chair saying, "Before our chit chat goes any further, I've a few pieces of business to attend to. First off, let me propose a toast. Here's to Billy and Conor and all they accomplished today, not the least of which was sending the Babcock and Pennington boys home with their tails between their legs."

  All at the table raised their glasses and took a drink as Charlie agreed, "Here, here!"

  "Next," Robert continued, "As some of you at the table may already surmised based on the smile I'm wearing, Mr. Conor O'Reilly is now the newest of Graves Industries. So, Conor, here's to you!" He again raised his glass, this time to Conor.

  "And welcome to the family!" Meg chirped. "The company is like one big family you know."

  "Congratulations!" Sylvia burst in. "That's wonderful. What will you be doing, Conor?"

  "Learning," her father broke in. "He's got a lot to learn and little time to do it. And that's why I have some requests to make. First off, Charlie and I have talked about it and we want you staying with the Comptons until you find a place closer to the factory in Burbank."

  "You're most welcome with us, dear," Myrtle added.

  "And that brings me to a request of Billy. Billy, I'd like you to take Conor out tomorrow and help him buy a car. Nothing too flashy, mind you, but new and something reliable – Ford, Chevrolet – something like that. He's going to have to be doing some traveling. Then, if you can, take him over to Burbank and help him find something decent to live in – more than a room, an apartment at least. Can you do that?

  "Buying a car? Yeah, that's always a fun thing to do. So yes," Billy answered.

  "Excellent. Now then, you need some business clothes. Meg, can you take our boy here on Tuesday and get him a wardrobe for work? Maybe to Bullock's?"

  "But dear," Meg replied a bit startled. "Tuesday is my golfing day with Mrs. Burke."

  "I doubt she'll be in the mood for golf this week," Robert responded.

  "Oh, I suppose you're right. Tuesday will be fine then. Conor, stop by the house around eleven in the morning and we'll leave from there."

  "Excellent, dear," Robert responded. "Now, then, Conor, I'd like you to report for work Wednesday morning, eight o'clock sharp. We've got a lot of work to do with you. Starting with that Irish brogue of yours. We'll need to tone that down a little. We're looking for some government work and we'll need you to sound a bit more American." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Maybe Sylvia here can help you a little with the linguistics."

  "Capital idea!" Meg gushed.

  It was Conor's turn to blush. "Whatever 'tis you say, Bob."

  Sylvia leaned into his ear. "Whatever you say, Bob," she whispered with a smile.

  "Whatever you say, Bob" Conor corrected himself. He smiled at Sylvia. "Thank you, Sylvia."

  "That concludes the business," Robert said taking his chair. "Now what where we talking about?"

  Meg jumped right in. "I don't know, but we did mention Annie – Mrs. Burke – isn't that just awful what happened to her husband?"

  "Yeah, I heard about it. Read it in the paper this afternoon. What a pervert. Served him right," Charlie offered.

  "Charlie!" Myrtle again reprimanded him. "Watch what you say!"

  "Well, that's what he was. A perv
ert," Charlie said defensively.

  "No matter," Meg continued. "It's just a horrible story. I feel so badly for her. Poor dear must be going through just a nightmare."

  Conor perked up at the conversation about Annie. He tried not to show that much interest but in the end had to ask, "So have you still not heard from her?"

  "No, I tried again this afternoon from the club – no answer. God knows what she's doing."

  "Let me know if you hear from her," Conor offered.

  "Of course, dear," Meg responded.

  "Those Hollywood types are their own worst enemies. Get rich doing nothing worthwhile and then have all the time in the world to make a mess of things. I don't have much respect for them," Robert said.

  "Well, I think Annie was just an innocent victim," Meg countered.

  "Is anybody innocent?" Robert posed.

  Just then the waiter approached the table to take their order. At the same time Benjamin Crowder walked to the podium placed in the corner and leaned into the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen. Could I have your attention please!" The room quieted only a bit before he continued. "I'm Benjamin Crowder, standing in for Leland Babcock who had to leave us tonight to fulfill other commitments. So it's my honor and duty to award the winning teams. Unfortunately, our second place team of Sterling Babcock and James Parker Pennington, III was unable to stay for the banquet, so this will be brief. Could you please welcome up here our 1930 Biarritz Country Club Calcutta champions… Billy Compton and Conor O'Reilly… along with team owner Robert Graves!"

  The three each put on somewhat sheepish grins, rose and walked to the podium to applause and whistles.

  "So on behalf of the board and the entire membership at Biarritz, it is my pleasure to present you the winner's trophies," Crowder announced. Then he turned to a side table and picked up a sterling silver loving cup that he presented to Billy and repeated the action to present a trophy to Conor. "Now, I'm sure you'd like to hear a few words from our champions."

  Billy stepped forward first and leaned into the microphone. "Thank you all. It was a great tournament and I have to thank my partner here for playing such wonderful golf."

  There was applause as Conor stepped to the microphone. "Thank you, Billy. 'Twas truly a team effort though. I would like to thank the membership, first for allowing me to serve as a caddie here these past several months and second for the opportunity to play in this brilliant event. You are to be special people, you have been good to me and I will miss you greatly."

  More applause, then Crowder resumed, "And, finally, it's my privilege to present the winning check of seventeen thousand five hundred dollars to the team owner, Mr. Robert Graves! Well done, Bob."

  To applause, Robert said into the microphone, "As maybe you can tell, and I'm sure you can agree, it was not just the best golfers that won this day, it was the best young men. Thank you, Conor. Thank you, Billy."

  The applause and whistles grew in intensity as the three made their way back to their seats. It quickly turned into a standing ovation and Billy and Robert waved back at the crowd.

  Conor was nearly overcome with emotion at the crowd's reaction. He looked down at the trophy in his hands and hoped he could soon show it to Annie. In fact, he decided, he would give it to Annie.

  (back to top)

  Chapter 31

  Flight

  Thursday, May 29, 1930

  As the least expensive train travel from Los Angeles to Chicago, the coach seat section of the Santa Fe Scout was full of mothers with young children. Thus the random crying and babbling of babies and toddlers played counterpoint to the regular rhythm of the wheels on the rails. Annie had taken a window seat in the rear of the car against the back bulkhead trying as best she could to distance herself from the passengers in the seats ahead living normal lives. She leaned against the window and looked out at the Mojave Desert sliding past. She thought the bleak and tawny landscape under the lowering gray sky an apt metaphor for the state of her soul. Two hours into the trip with another thirty-eight to go, she wondered if there would be enough hours, enough minutes, to bleed out all the sorrow and anger she felt before she reached her new existence in Chicago.

  The past five days she felt as if she'd been hammered by fate against an anvil of anguish, every day bringing another punishing blow. First there was Franklin. She thought about how even in death he had been able to fuel her hatred, how his betrayal had been ultimately more ugly, more unspeakable, than she ever could have imagined, how he took with him to the grave everything she had ever worked for, even the work itself. She had not gone to the funeral and not just because the tabloid press would descend upon it to make more of a mockery of her life. She didn't want to remember him going dead into the ground. She wanted only to imagine him burning in hell for eternity. In fact she had thought of burning all his things; the clothes, the linens, anything he had ever touched. But instead she told Opal to take everything from his room and keep it, sell it or give it away to her friends and family. So it was on Monday afternoon that Opal's brother-in-law had come with a truck borrowed from his employer to load everything and drive it away.

  It was Tuesday that she learned she had no money. Franklin had managed to steal that from her as well. When she went to the bank she learned the accounts he had opened in her name also bore his name. The notoriety of his death had enabled the bank to act quickly to seize all his assets against a host of delinquent loans and debts. When she called about the life insurance she learned he had already cashed it out. The only money she was able to retrieve was five hundred dollars from a savings account she had established before her marriage.

  It was Tuesday afternoon that two black sedans pulled into the driveway one shortly after the other bringing agents from two different banks. They came to the door together carrying briefcases and rang the bell. Opal opened the door to them and called Annie down. Annie didn't invite them in. She stood at the door as one told her that the house was being foreclosed immediately due to the seriously delinquent mortgage that had now been declared in default. He was sorry but she would have to make arrangements to vacate the property in forty-eight hours. The other agent also expressed his apologies but was obliged to notify her that the Cadillac would have to be repossessed unless the balance of twenty-five hundred sixty three dollars and fifty-four cents was paid in that same time frame. Otherwise an agent would come on Thursday to take the car. She protested that the car was in her name. He responded that was true, but that the bank held a lien against the loan that was in her husband's name. No payments had been made since the loan was taken out and given his death the bank was forced to act. Again he was very sorry. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out the default notice and handed it to her. The other agent opened his briefcase and took out a piece of paper and a small hammer. He explained he would have to post the foreclosure notice on the door. Annie, stunned, could only nod. She closed the door and then heard the tacks being hammered in as she hurried back up to the sanctuary of her room.

  She had asked Opal to bring her the tabloids. As if to purge Franklin's memory she felt a perverse desire to inflict more pain on herself. She read the stories and came to understand what had happened. Franklin had been supporting two households; Leslie's even more lavish than her own. Franklin knew he couldn't go on and had told Leslie that he would be cut off. Leslie had become enraged at the thought his lover could treat him so and had gone quite mad. After reading all the lurid headlines and stories Annie gathered the papers and stuffed them into the wastebasket. She went back downstairs and called out to Opal. She explained what was happening to the house and to her finances. She was sorry, but she would have to let her go. She gave her a twenty-dollar bill and told her she wished it could be more. Opal began to weep. She told Annie that Franklin's things would be adequate severance and that Annie would need the money more than she would. She handed back the bill, hugged her and then went off to collect her things.

  Wednesday Annie tried to hang on to the last rem
aining tether to the life she had known. She called the studio to tell them she was nearly finished with the screenplay. It took almost an hour of repeated phone calls before she was able to reach the producer directly and then only after begging and pleading with a series of secretaries to put her through. George Zuckerman was kind and solicitous. He offered condolences. No, he didn't know that it was she who had written Franklin's recent screenplays, that it was she who had been writing for the current project. And he was very sorry. He had given the screenplay to another writer on Monday. There was no way he could have Franklin's name or work associated with the film after all that had happened. He hoped she would understand given the circumstances of his death. He promised to keep her in mind for future projects in a tone and manner that told Annie he would not. She thanked him and hung up.

  She immediately picked up the receiver and asked the operator for a long distance line. Her Aunt Louise was adamant she leave immediately for Chicago. There was no other option given her finances. She would need a safe place to find herself and Chicago was as good as any other. Louise would Western Union her money for the ticket. Annie should let her know the train schedule. Louise would meet her at the LaSalle Street Station and bring her home.

  When she came back from the La Grande Station in Los Angeles after picking up her money from Western Union, buying her ticket and telegraphing her arrival time to Louise, she parked the car in the garage and left the key in the ignition. She walked around to the front of the car and unscrewed the chrome mermaid radiator cap and carried it with her back into the house. She left the garage door open.

  She didn't pack much. There would be no need for glittery ball gowns and fancy clothes in Chicago. That it was coming into summer meant she wouldn't have to buy winter clothes for some months. She would travel with only two pieces of luggage. A trunk held most of her clothes, some shoes, copies of her screenplays and a few books, including the one of Keats' poetry with the dried pressed yellow tulip inside. The small suitcase contained toiletries, jewelry, a change of clothes and the mermaid.