Rocko said, “Remember: the sun also rises and many storms are followed by a rainbow.”
Hemmingway nodded and said with a grin, “The sun also rises. I like that. Thank you captain.”
“Crash site right ahead, gentlemen,” called out the driver as he stopped the truck as close as he dared as the bomber was burning. They all left the ambulance and carefully approached the downed aircraft.
“Help me,” cried a man leaning against the base of a tree as another just stared at them. The four men approached the two men causally, and LaGuardia shouted, “I have a pistol. Keep your hands where we can see them.”
Both men were battered and bruised with parts of their clothes burnt. They were in no shape to offer any resistance.
It was a tight squeeze, but the ambulance got them all to the hospital where LaGuardia pressed charges against the two men for stealing an aircraft from his base.
It was seven-thirty in the morning when they carried their flying clothes over to Mario’s Cappuccino Café where they once again dined on cappuccino and sweet cakes as they waited for a bomber that was flying in to bring them back to Foggia Air base.
When it arrived, LaGuardia gave the two men leave and ten dollars each. “Have fun in Rome and remember a car will pick you both up in two days.” The two troopers left their flying clothes stuffed in the front gunners position and left for the sights of Rome as the two captains put on their own flying gear and climbed into the open cockpit.
The flight back was uneventful and LaGuardia insisted that Rocko fly at least half of the trip. Once back at the base both New Yorkers slept through the rest of the day and at seven o’clock in the evening, Rocko took out his hairbrush communicator and popped it open. He typed,
GREETINGS BILL! MISSION COMPLETED! I’LL BE ON MY WAY BACK TO NEW YORK CITY TOMORROW MORNING. MEANWHILE, I HAVE A HUGE FAVOR TO ASK. WILL YOU FIND OUT WHAT PROMISES FIORELLO LAGUARDIA RAN ON DURING HIS RUN TO BECOME MAYOR OF NEW YORK CITY? THANKS, BILL. I’LL LET YOU KNOW WHEN I’M BACK IN THE BIG APPLE. REGARDS, ROCKO.
He went to the showers, washed up and put on a fresh uniform. Back in his room he saw the communicator blinking. “A message,” he said to himself. He sat at the small table and pressed the blinking red button and a message came up on the screen,
“GREETINGS ROCKO. GLAD THE MISSION WAS A SUCCESS. AS FOR LAGUARDIA, HE RAN ON FIVE POINTS:
RESTORE THE FINANCIAL HEALTH AND BREAK FREE FROM THE BANKERS’ CONTROL.
EXPAND THE FEDERALLY FUNDED WORK-RELIEF PROGRAM FOR THE UNEMPLOYED.
END CORRUPTION IN GOVERNMENT AND RACKETEERING IN KEY SECTORS OF THE ECONOMY.
REPLACE PATRONAGE WITH A MERIT-BASED CIVIL SERVICE, WITH HIGH PRESTIGE.
MODERNIZE THE INFRASTRUCTURE, ESPECIALLY TRANSPORTATION AND PARKS.
SEE YOU SOON, BILL.
Rocko and LaGuardia finally got together at ten p.m. and after a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, washed down with red wine, they enjoyed a cappuccino and a cigar.
“Well,” said Rocko as he flicked a cigar ash into the tall ashtray on the patio, “Tomorrow I must catch a ride to the train station, then back to New York.”
“Lucky you,” said a smiling LaGuardia.
“I thought you loved it here?” asked Rocko.
“Oh, I do! But I also love New York City. And you are right about me wanting to be its mayor. Why not me?” he said spreading his arms as he shrugged his shoulders, “Someone has to do it.”
Rocko asked, “What do you think a typical New Yorker would like to see their mayor do for them?”
The little man shrugged his shoulders again and said, “Equality, safety, stop the bankers who control everything, end corruption and fix the roads and as you said, build an airport in Queens.”
“I think you hit the nail on the head, my friend. Those are the points that I would like to see in my city.”
They finished their cigars and Rocko stood and stretched. “Hate to cut our chat time short but I am beat and as I said I have to catch a train tomorrow.”
LaGuardia stood, and mimicked his stretch, “I’m beat too. But before I met with you tonight, I made a flight plan to fly you to Naples. No train for you, my friend.”
A truly surprised Rocko asked, “Are you sure? I mean I don’t mind . . .“
“I’m sure, my friend and I won’t change my mind, so be ready at eight o’clock in the morning and we’ll enjoy cappuccino and sweet cakes in my office and then I’ll personally fly you to Naples. Besides there is this wonderful sausage store that has the freshest sausages in all of Italy.”
“How can I pass that up? Good night, my friend, see you at eight.”
It was eight o’clock sharp when Rocko knocked on LaGuardia’s door and was greeted by the future Mayor of New York City.
“Ahh, good morning, my friend. I trust you slept well?”
“Yes, I did and you?”
“Like a bambino. Come, sit and we’ll have a cappuccino and some sweet cakes before our flight.”
They sat and ate and as they finished LaGuardia said, “My friend, I still don’t know what branch of the Army you serve in but whatever it is, I wish to thank you. If this Mussolini fellow had succeeded with his plans and the Italian Government had signed a peace treaty with the other side, the world would really be in a stew. I wish to see you again when this is all over with.”
“My friend, it is so hard to promise that we will meet again, but I have something for you. He opened his suitcase and took out a sheet of paper and handed it to LaGuardia. “I thought about you running for Mayor of the city and jotted these notes down. I’m positive that if you accept them and run on them you will become mayor, perhaps even more than one term.”
LaGuardia looked at the paper and read them out loud,
“Restore the financial health and break free from the bankers' control
Expand the federally funded work-relief program for the unemployed
End corruption in government and racketeering in key sectors of the economy
Replace patronage with a merit-based civil service, with high prestige
Modernize the infrastructure, especially transportation and parks.”
He put the paper on his table and hugged Rocko, “My friend, this is wonderful and if I get a chance, I shall use them all.”
The plane ride to Naples was wonderful as they flew low over many of the beautiful hills of Italy all lit by golden sunlight. Once again LaGuardia asked Rocko to take the controls for a bit and the time traveler grinned as he thought, Gee, I wonder what the members of the 1800 Club would say if they saw me flying in an aircraft made of canvas and wood?
They landed at a new airport in Naples and Rocko hugged his friend goodbye. He walked off the airfield as LaGuardia had the ground crew push his plane to the side while he borrowed a car to go and get some sausages for the evening’s meal. He purposely drove past Rocko’s ship blowing his horn as the time traveler waved from the top deck.
On the way back, Rocko kept to himself as he wrote up a report of his mission. As usual, after a mission that you have become a friend of someone, it takes something out of a person and Rocko was no different. I met so many great people on this trip, he thought, and I must face the fact that I’ll never see them again. It’s tough.
It took two tugboats to get the ship snug up against the dock as a heavy snowstorm was blowing the snow sideways. The ship finally docked and Rocko was one of the first people down the gangway. He was about to look for a cab when someone shouted, “Rocko! Rocko Perna, over here!”
He looked and spotted Bill and John Brand standing next to a 1917 Ford. “Over here,” Bill shouted as he waved.
Squinting against the blowing snow, he crossed the street and greeted both men with a handshake that ended in a hug. “Boy, it’s great to see you guys. I’ve so much to tell you.”
“Over a beer in Diamonds sound good to you?” asked Bill as he put Rocko’s suitcase in the rear of the car.
“You bet that sounds good to me!
”
“Okay, I brought along a long black coat and a hat so you can just switch out of your military hat and coat before Paddy Diamonds thinks that you joined up.”
The three men got into the car and Bill took the wheel as John rode next to him allowing Rocko to change from a military man to a regular New Yorker in the rear. The wind rocked the high, boxy car as the early model wipers fought against the driving snow and the heater tried to warm up the interior.
Rubbing his hand against the inside on the windshield to remove the fog, Bill said, “When Matt checked this date he saw that there was a big snowstorm, so John and I came back early and rented this Ford. We just couldn’t let you get stuck in a snowstorm your first day back.”
“I appreciate it, guys.”
The snow was really coming down hard and fast as they pulled up to 97 East 11th Street and got out of the car as a sanitation truck pulled up. The three men stopped to watch the sanitation men as they picked up the 32-gallon, steel refuse cans and instead of emptying them into the rear of their sanitation truck, they poured the contents onto the snow covered street.
“I heard about them doing that but never saw it,” said John as they watched the men empty one can after another into the street.
Rocko shrugged his shoulders and asked, “Excuse me, guys, but what are we watching?”
Bill answered, “Back in the early days, most homes were heated by coal stoves. And after burning, the coal left a gray ash that the tenants emptied into the steel trashcans, which the sanitation men would empty into the rear of their trucks and haul it off to the dump. But when there was a snowstorm, they emptied the cans of ash onto the snow-packed streets so the cars had better traction.”
Rocko was surprised as he thought he knew everything there was to know about New York. “That’s cool.”
John added as he pushed open the door to Diamonds, “That’s how the trashcan became known as an ashcan.”
“At least in New York,” added Bill as he stomped the snow off his shoes. He stepped into the bar and saw Paddy Diamond coming towards them with an outstretched hand and a smile.
“Bill, Rocko and John, how have you boys been?”
They shook hands all around as they each sat on one of the high backless stools.
Bill answered for them, “Paddy, you see before you three men in need of a beer and of all the bars in the city we chose to have them here.”
Paddy said with a grin, “Bill Scott you have more blarney in you than any two Irishmen I know. Beers all around?”
“Yep,” answered Bill, “Don’t know how long we can stay, the snow is really coming down.”
The three men chatted as they sipped beers and puffed cigars until it became obvious that they had to leave as the car was getting covered with snow. Once in the car, the going was fairly easy as they rode on a covering of gray ash, thanks to the sanitation men and the ash cans. They pulled up to the rear of the club and before they left the car, Bill took out the key to the gate. “Ready?” he said, “Go.”
The doors flew open and the three time travelers walked head down against the wind-driven snow only to stand and watch Bill fumble with the lock. Finally, the frozen lock opened and they walked through knee high snowdrifts that covered the club’s garden. Being out of the wind, the lock to the security door in the far wall of the garden opened easily and the three pulled the door open against the snow. Once inside they walked up the stairs as Bill punched in the date and time they wished to be at.
DATELINE: DECEMBER 9, 2013 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY
Stomping their feet on the landing outside of his den caused a flurry of barks and howls on the other side as Samson tried to get to his master. Bill opened the door and the beagle stood with his paws on Bill’s legs as he had his ears scratched. A tap on the inside door was followed by Matt entering with a tray of hot chocolate for them.
“Greetings, gentlemen. Would you prefer something stronger?”
“Not me,” said Bill kicking off his wet shoes.
John and Rocko both turned down the offer.
“If nobody minds,” said Rocko, “I’m going to change and go home. As nice as the bed was in my cabin, it can’t beat my own mattress.”
“Believe me, Rocko,” said Bill, “I understand completely. I found out that the best way to get my head back into our time was to relax in my own place. You already gave me your mission write-up so no need to rush anything. Give me a buzz when you’re ready and we’ll trot on over to Paddy Diamonds and the three of us will finish what we started today.”
“That’s a deal. Now I’m going to change and I’ll call you soon. And, Bill, thanks again, it was the best.” He looked at John and decided to rib his old friend, “Oh, John, please remind me to tell you how I handled flying a World War I Italian bomber when I get a chance.”
John just stood there looking as though he was going to cry.
Rocko took a cab to his apartment. He sat back in his favorite chair, put on the TV and fell asleep only to wake up at midnight. He went to the refrigerator and got a beer, put the TV off and grabbed his first draft of the mission report and flipped through the pages as he thought, Glad I kept the rough draft, maybe it’ll bore me to sleep.
Rather than bore him to sleep it woke him completely as he relived the past bunch of days. He grinned as he thought of himself walking around as an officer in the U.S. Army. Suddenly it hit him: I need closure! He grabbed his laptop and powered it up. He opened Google and entered: Sam Hooker.
There were a lot of Sam Hookers, but the times that they were around just didn’t jive. He entered the name Conrad Pines and got the same results. Well, he thought, hopefully they purchased the AT&T stocks and did well enough to have a good life. It’s possible that they kept a low profile and Google doesn’t have any information on them. Let me try James Schaeffer. He typed the name in and Google showed a block of copy on his name, and the dates were right on.
In June 2, 1918, James Schaeffer, Conrad Pines and Samuel Hooker formed the company, SPH Riding Stables, located at E 9Th Street Brooklyn, New York. The three men served together in WW1 and were familiar with horses. After the war, a changed population, which was willing to try new challenges, discovered the stables and flocked to them. The closeness of Prospect Park sparked an idea and the three entrepreneurs signed a deal with the city to allow riding through the park thus ensuring years of a prosperous business. It was rumored that the three men were secret donors to various charities and hospitals in New York City. Mr. Hooker was heard many times saying: “We three had the good fortune of meeting the elusive Rocko P. who once gave us a handful of cash and a stock tip that allowed us to pay it back many times over. Each of us has a son named after our friend, Rocko.”
Rocko closed his computer and sat back. Suddenly he was completely relaxed.
Dear reader. The copy below, titled: An 1897 Victorian Christmas Party, is a snippet of the story about Bill Scott and Shirley Holmes that takes place when she goes to visit him for the Christmas Holidays. As in Book 9, there is no charge and can be found at:
http://timetraveler-bob.blogspot.com/2014/03/an-1897-victorian-christmas-party.html
I hope you enjoy it and give me feedback. Thanks, Robert P. McAuley.
An 1897 Victorian Christmas Party
DATELINE: NOVEMBER 29, 1897 PLACE: REDLINE’S TEA COZY, LONDON, ENGLAND
Every table in the teashop was taken and a few would-be patrons stood outside under the awning looking in through the large glass window. It looked as though they all had a part in a dance recital as they constantly stomped their feet to keep warm. It took a lot of will power for the patrons that were sitting inside sipping their tea to not look at them or the falling snow that was accumulating on their hats and shoulders. They themselves had to wait until someone else thought that it was time they made their way home through the snowstorm, thus freeing up a table.
Sitting at table number three, near the window, was Shirley Holmes and Doctor John Watson. More
than one person glanced at them, as she was a beautiful woman at least thirty years younger and two inches taller than her five feet three-inch escort.
The waiter who came over and placed two hot buttered scones on the table, interrupting them. He smiled and asked, “More tea, folks?”
At their nods, he poured and left.
Shirley said in a clipped tone of voice, “Army fellow, recently out, was stationed in the tropics, most likely in India, left handed and divorced or is broke.”
A perplexed Doctor Watson asked as he shook his head, “What makes you so sure of that?”
“The hair style of today is on the short side but full all around and he had his short at the sides and longer on the top which tells me that he had an army haircut, short sides and long top. Recently out because if he was out longer his hair would be full all around and his face and hands are deeply tanned but his neck was pure white as though he campaigned in the hot sands of India while always being in uniform. Why India? Because that’s where the English Army sends three quarters of their men to campaign and the only place where the sun burns the skin to a deep tan. Left handed simply because he poured the hot tea with his left hand rather than trusting his right hand and perhaps spilling the tea on a customer. Finally, the white circle where he had worn a wedding ring during his time in the army. His ring has been removed leaving the tell tale circle of white skin pointing to his recently being divorced or down in his luck and pawned his ring.”
After each sip of his tea, the doctor took a moment to dab the upward curled ends of his gray mustache. His gray hair was on the short side and parted down the middle and Shirley once told him, with a giggle, that he was the grayest person she had ever met, with his gray hair, mustache and eyes and now he sat before her wearing a gray tweed three-piece suit, his gray overcoat and hat laid across an empty chair.
Book X Page 19