Bill’s voice sounded relieved. “That’s great to hear, John. Believe me you won’t be disappointed. I’ll be having supper alone in my den. Join me, and I’ll brief you. Say about eight o’clock?”
“Eight it is. See you then.”
“Excellent,” said Bill, and they both hung up.
That evening the two sat comfortably in Bill’s den, opposite each other in large overstuffed easy chairs. Supper was over and they were enjoying cigars and aged brandy. Bill raised his glass and said, “Cheers, John.”
John raised his and said, “To the future of The 1800 Club.”
They each took a sip and Bill said, “John, I know you said you would be available to take other time trips and this one is a beauty.”
“Fill me in. I have time coming to me at the office so I’m ready to travel.”
Bill got down to the purpose of the meeting. “This is a tough one. And what’s worse is that it’s not the 1800s, it’s the late thirties.”
John sat forward. “The thirties? Go ahead, I’m all ears.”
Bill studied his guest for a moment, put down his glass and said, “Have any of your aviation experiences put you in touch with lighter-than-air craft?”
“You mean ballooning?” John asked. “I’ve read all about it, I know the theory.”
Bill shook his head. “No, I mean the big guy, the Hindenburg.”
John looked at him intently. “No. Never. But I know the Hindenburg story. It ended over Lakehurst. I saw the newsreel. Do they want us to prevent the explosion?”
“No, just the opposite, they want it to happen. The problem is, they did a typical check with a drone, and the airship didn’t even show up. It must have exploded somewhere out over the Atlantic Ocean and that means that everyone aboard perished.”
John drained his brandy glass and said, “If they want to ensure that the airship arrives at Lakehurst, what do they think we can do about it?”
“I’m not certain,” Bill answered, refilling both glasses. “It’s sort of up to us. Listen, they asked for you especially. They loved the way you handled the Wright brothers problem and I agree with their choice.”
John sipped his drink and smiled. “But there’s a big difference between the Wright flying machine and the Hindenburg. I mean, just the politics of the whole thing. The Nazis were in power at that time.”
Bill nodded in agreement. “I can’t order you to do it, John. But I have to let you know that the inventor of the Time Machine’s great-great-grandfather survived the original Hindenburg explosion. If he dies at sea, the world will sink into chaos because the Time Travelers will not have a machine to allow them to travel back to keep things going the right way. In fact what could happen is so uncertain that their computer won’t even tackle any possible predictions. It will affect all of us.”
John took a deep inhale on his cigar and exhaled slowly as he pondered. “The theory was that static electricity caused the explosion. It seems that the gasbag might have been chafing against a girder and started a leak. The gas was ignited by static electricity from storm clouds. Many suspected sabotage, but the Nazis disliked that theory because as they said, ‘who would want to destroy a German transport?’ And as to the ship leaking gas, they say ‘no way could there have been a design flaw in a German transport, therefore, it must have been a lightning strike.’ Now, if the ship went down over the ocean, the sabotage theory becomes even stronger.”
John took another sip and looked deep into his glass. “I think in order to fix this, someone has to go back and be on that flight.”
Bill said as he stood up, “I can’t let you go. It’s not your problem. I’ll go back.”
John put up his hand to stop that line of thinking. “I believe it’s everyone’s problem, and I’m the guy who has to go back. Its my field and any pilot would give an eyetooth to fly on the Hindenburg. No, it’s mine.”
Bill nodded. “Whatever you need will be made available to you. Make me a list and it’ll be filled. Do you speak German, by chance?”
John stood up, finished his drink and shook his head. “No. But I imagine any travel organization I would be dealing with would speak English. I’ll put a list together and call you from work. I’ll put in for some time off and be here tomorrow night. Okay?”
“It’ll be ready for you, John.”
The next night John was back with Bill in his apartment. John was dressed in a typical 1937 outfit put out by Matt, a dark blue suit, white shirt, blue tie and dark shoes. He had a light overcoat over his arm. In his hand was a fedora. On the floor was a used suitcase containing clothes and toiletries. Bill handed him the hairbrush that contained the hidden communicator for text messages, a billfold containing identification and money from the period, along with a passport. Next he spread out the money from the billfold. “There should be enough money for any plan you come up with. The passport says this is your first trip to Germany, and it’s as authentic as they come. Take care of yourself, and remember if you need me, just text me on your communicator. I want you back, Johnny Boy.”
John smiled and answered, “Believe me, Bill, I want to come back, too. And as much as I tried last night, I couldn’t nail down a plan, outside of getting a ticket on the airship. Of course, I have to go to Europe. There probably are berths available on any of the ships leaving New York because the season hasn’t started yet. I’m going to purchase a parachute in Germany. They have many glider and parachuting clubs and I’ll tell them I want to try some jumps once I’m back home. Hopefully, I’ll be able to jump before the explosion. The Nazi Party is in power over there so I have to remember to watch what I say.” He looked at himself in the full-length mirror and turned to Bill. “Outside of that, I pretty much have to wing it.” Then, nodding toward the door, he said. “I’m as ready as I can be. Let’s go.”
Bill took out his pocket Time Frequency Modulator and asked, “What date did you select?”
“According to the history books about the Hindenburg, the tickets would be sold out three months before the flight. However, a Mr. and Mrs. Charles Gustav of Berlin were visiting family here in the states and were going back by steam ship in order to catch the Hindenburg coming back to the states. They wanted to open a travel agency and needed to see what it was like on the airship. However, they had to cancel their trip to Germany because of a job offer in one of the biggest travel agencies in the world right here in the States. Life magazine interviewed them because they were fortunate enough to have cancelled their tickets and thus miss the deadly flight. I’m going to the Deutsche Zeppelin-Reederei office in New York City and hope they haven’t sold the Gustav’s tickets yet.”
He looked at a page in a small notebook in his hand. “That’s going to be my first stop. That would take care of getting on board the airship. If there is no ticket available, I’ll have to go back to an earlier time and purchase the ticket.” He closed the notebook and put it in his inside jacket pocket. Then he said, “The ship I want to get on is the Reliance of the Hamburg-American Line. It leaves New York on the evening of April 15 and takes about fourteen days to reach Germany. The Hindenburg leaves Germany on May 3, so if I’m in New York City by April 15, 1937, that should give me plenty of time to get the tickets, take the liner to Europe and hook up with the airship.”
Bill nodded and punched in April 15, 1937. “Let’s go,” he said, and opened the Time Portal door.
They went down the stairs and opened the second door to the garden at noon on April 15, 1937. Bill was wearing a tan three-piece suit with brown shoes, a white shirt and bowtie . . . he fit right in.
DATELINE: APRIL 15, 1937 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY
John put his suitcase down and inhaled deeply. “Man, Bill,” he said looking around, “I still can’t believe this. I mean I wasn’t even born at this time. I’m living in my history book.”
Bill opened the gate of the eight-foot-tall stonewalled garden and they stood looking at the sights. A truck rattled by making a delivery
of coal. John’s engineering background made him take notice of the solid rubber tires on the wheels and the chain drive powering them. Two boys were playfully trying to open a coal chute on the truck’s side to tease the driver. The man deftly tossed a chunk of coal at them as he drove along. They stopped trying after the laughing driver beaned one.
“What an age, John,” said Bill, “no war yet and the Depression was winding down. My dad used to talk about it as the time that made men out of boys.”
A policeman walked by and both John and Bill nodded to him as he tapped his hat with his nightstick.
“Get a beer before you go, John?”
“Why not? Could be our last one for a long time.”
They walked out and went down the few blocks to Diamonds Bar & Grill.
“Last time I was here, it was 1865,” John said. “Paddy can’t still be the bartender. Right?”
“Naw,” Bill said, shaking his head, “Paddy passed in the late 1890s, but you wouldn’t know it when you see his son. Paddy junior owns the place and he’s Paddy senior’s double.”
The two men went into the bar and their footsteps on the floor’s chipped mosaic tiles got the bartender’s attention. Paddy junior was every inch his father just as Bill had described him. He grabbed Bill’s hand and pumped it.
“Bill, how have you been? Haven’t seen you for a few weeks. Beer?”
“Hello Paddy. Yeah, two glasses of Schaffer.” He turned to John. “This is my friend John Brand.” They shook hands.
Paddy returned with two beers and a dish of pickled pig knuckles. “On the house, gents.”
Bill motioned to John as he picked up a knuckle. “Try it, John, you’ll like it.”
“Ahhhh, well, I don’t want to mess up my suit so maybe I’ll pass.”
Bill laughed. “More for me.”
The place hasn’t changed, thought John as he looked around. The big stuffed moose head was still over the end of the bar and if you looked at the right angle, you could see the sun glinting off the cobwebs between the antlers and hanging from its massive chin. Looking at Bill, John thought, this is more than a bar to him. He escapes to here when things get tough back in our time. Poor Bill, he’s in the same boat as I am: No one to talk to about the best trips imaginable. He turned to Bill and raised his glass. “Cheers, buddy.”
Bill raised his and both men knew they might never see each other again.
A short time later they left Diamonds and watched as a yellow ‘Sky View’ taxi turned the corner. “My ride,” said John as he flagged it down. The taxi stopped, and the cabbie got out to get John’s suitcase.
Bill and John shook hands and as the cabbie took the case, Bill said in a low voice, referring to the cabbie helping with his luggage, “Easy to get used to. Right, John?”
John smiled and nodded and then got into the cab and slid back the glass opening in the roof. “See you real soon, Bill.” The taxi pulled away with John waving as he stood with his head and shoulders sticking up out of the open top of the cab’s roof. Bill waved, started to go back to the club, then stopped, turned and went back into Diamonds.
John’s taxi pulled up at Fifth Avenue and Forty-Eighth Street in Manhattan. He paid the driver and after getting his suitcase entered the offices of the Deutsche Zeppelin-Reederei, owner of the Hindenburg.
The office was done in art deco with beautiful color scenes depicting the Hindenburg flying over Rio de Janeiro, the Empire State Building in New York, and an island in the South Seas. Other pictures showed the airship’s interior rooms with lavish sleeping and dining accommodations. The young man behind the desk was a tall, slim, blond man with perfectly combed-back hair. His natty attire complemented the office. John stepped in, and the man smiled and greeted him, saying, “Good day, sir. May I be of service to you?”
John nodded and put down his suitcase. “Good day to you, sir. I know I’m probably out of luck, but, is there a chance that there is an open berth on the Hindenburg leaving Frankfurt on the third of May? My trip is unexpected or else I’d have purchased one by now.”
The young man’s face lit up. “You sir, are a very lucky man. A gentleman left no more than two hours ago after canceling his trip. He had to stay in New York for a job interview.” The clerk took a form and a ticket out of the drawer, picked up a pen and looked at John. “Your reason for going on the Hindenburg?” John looked at him, his eyebrows raised. The man quickly responded to his look with a smooth, “Oh sir, just a questionnaire. It lets management know the makeup of our passengers. Sort of, how to better serve them.”
John shrugged and answered casually, “I’m writing a story about the advantages of flying the Atlantic Ocean rather than going by steamship.”
The man took notes and smiled again, “A favorable story I’m sure. I mean, the Hindenburg is the Queen Of The Skies . . . there’s simply no comparison, is there?”
“Well, that’s what I have to find out.”
The clerk pushed the form toward him. “Please fill out this ticket request form, sir.” His smile stayed in place as he asked, “How will you be paying?”
“Cash,” said John, smiling back. He took out his billfold and peeled off the cash. “Four hundred dollars, correct?”
The man never lost his smile. “Yes.” He took the money, put it in the drawer and pushed the ticket to John. He looked at the form John gave him. “Mr. John Brand. How are you getting to Germany, Mr. Brand?”
“Not sure,” John answered, “but I’ll be there. Good day, sir.” John turned and left the office as the man smiled after him.
John went to the subway at Sixth Avenue and Forty-ninth Street, near Radio City Music Hall. Before going down the stairs, he looked at the low buildings that would make way for the Time-Life building on Fiftieth Street. Going into the subway, he dropped a nickel in the turnstile and caught a noisy train down to Vesey Street. The American Line office was located at Vesey and Church streets. He went in, and the clerk could have been a twin to the man he had just left in the Zeppelin office. John relaxed as he saw the man had on a black suit while the Hindenburg man was dressed in a tan suit.
“Good day, sir. May I help you?”
“Good day. I’d like to purchase a one-way ticket on the Reliance for April 15, please.”
The man smiled and passed a form to John. “Will you please fill out this Request for Ticket form?
John took it and started to fill it out when the man asked, “What is the reason you are going aboard the Reliance, sir?”
John felt his blood pressure rise in irritation as he said, “I’m writing a story on the pros and cons of flying on the Hindenburg and sailing on the steamship Reliance.”
The man kept smiling as he said, “But there is no better way to travel than by steamship, especially aboard the Reliance. I’m sure you’ll see that when you are aboard the ship, sir. The liner leaves from Pier Ten at the Forty-Eighth Street dock at six sharp this evening. That will be $275. How will you be paying, sir?”
“Cash,” said John as he took out his billfold. He placed the bills on the counter, took his ticket and said good-bye to the clerk who simply replied with a smile.
After he got back uptown, John realized he had a few hours to kill so he went to a small bar and grill, The Pig & Whistle, on Forty-Eighth Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues and had a steak dinner. He knew he’d be eating like a king on the ship but couldn’t resist a New York steak dinner and a beer for four dollars. Afterward, he walked the five blocks to the wharf, sorry that the wheeled suite case hadn’t been invented yet.
A white ribbon of smoke rose from the stacks of the blue and white ship, which towered over everything in the area. Tugs gently nudged up against her, getting ready to take her out, and passengers lined her decks. John went into the big warehouse-like building abutting the pier and followed a sign that read, “PASSENGERS ONLY.”
He came to three men and a woman checking passports and tickets. The woman took his ticket and stamped it, as one of the men took his p
assport. He smiled and looked at the photo, then at John. As the man handed back the passport, he said with a slight accent, “What is your business in Germany, Mr. Brand?”
John put his passport away, smiled and said, “I’m writing an article about the differences between traveling on the Reliance and the Hindenburg.”
The second man nodded and in a thicker accent asked, “You must have just decided to do this writing, Mr. Brand. You just purchased your ticket today.”
John was caught off guard. “I just got the assignment this morning,” he said.
“For who are you doing this article?” asked the first man with a fixed smile.
John grabbed his ticket. “It’s none of your business who I work for. Now, do I board or not?”
They slowly stepped aside and let him pass. “Of course, you may board,” said the third man. “Just curious, that’s all. Have a nice trip, Mr. Brand.”
John walked up the gangway and into the hull of the great ship. His cabin was a small one on the third deck. It had a single bed with a small closet at the foot of it. Beside the closet was a door that opened to a very small toilet area containing the toilet, shower and sink. Shortly after he put his clothes away, a deep blast sounded from the ship’s whistle and the tugboats moved the ship out slowly. One hour later, as it passed by the Statue of Liberty, John thought, hope the next time I see you it’s from a few hundred feet higher.
The time traveler didn’t try to strike up any conversations; he just listened and absorbed the talk and feel of the thirties. At the dinner table when everyone introduced one another, he played the role of a shy introverted writer. After awhile he felt that he was the only person going to Germany, to return on the Hindenburg. “All well and good,” he thought.
Each day as he left his room, John did something he had seen in an old spy movie. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but it paid off. He took a hair from his hairbrush, wet it and put it across the clasp on his suitcase. Each evening he’d look to see if it was disturbed. One evening, at about the halfway point, John noticed the hair was on the floor. Someone had searched his case. He checked the communicator inside his hairbrush. It was undisturbed, but now he knew for sure the fellows at the dock had put him on their “to do” list. Got to be careful, he thought, got to be very careful.
Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club, Book II Page 10