“You could get a loan.”
“No. I asked a banker about that. He told me I would need collateral.”
The old man scowled. “Well, find a way, Ranahan, or I’ll have to sell it to somebody else.”
That night at dinner, Michael told Emily of Cully’s offer.
She clapped her hands. “Michael, I’m so happy. This is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”
“But I have no money, Emily. I would need a loan and a banker told me I couldn’t get one without collateral.”
“That’s just one banker. I’m sure you can find someone who’ll give you— Wait a minute, Delia Hainsworth’s husband is a banker.”
“Do you think he could help?”
“Delia is bringing Abigail over for a lesson today. I’ll talk to her.”
A week later, an anxious Michael Ranahan found himself standing in front of the Gotham Bank, an elaborately columned building on Rector Street. The office of Charles Hainsworth was on the second floor. Escorted by a soft-spoken elderly gentleman wearing a high, starched collar, Michael was led into an elegantly subdued office of paneled mahogany and rosewood, a space designed to convey the position and power of its occupant.
Hainsworth, a tall man in his early forties with a busy walrus mustache, rose to greet him.
“Mr. Ranahan,” he said shaking Michael’s hand, “Charles Hainsworth. Please sit down.”
When Michael was seated, Hainsworth got right to the point. “So, Delia tells me you have an opportunity to purchase a construction firm.”
“That’s right. Cullinane Construction. I’m a foreman there at the present time.”
“Did you bring the books as I requested?”
“I did.” Michael slipped a large ledger across the highly-polished desk. “These are the records for the company.”
The banker took his time, reading each page carefully. When he was done, he sat back and smiled. “It would appear that Mr. Cullinane has done an admirable job remaining not only solvent, but profitable as well; a feat that not every business in this city can boast of.”
“Mr. Cullinane is a hard worker and I intend to make the business even more profitable. But…” his voice trailed off.
“But what?”
“I’ve been told I don’t have any collateral.”
“Of course you have collateral,” the banker said, tapping the ledger with his finger. “You have the Cullinane Construction Company.”
Michael’s heart leaped in his chest at hearing those magic words. “I do? I mean … I’m sorry, I don’t understand ...”
“It’s quite simple. When a bank loans money, it wants to make sure it will be made whole if the borrower defaults on the loan. That’s what collateral is for. Clearly, Cullinane Construction is worth the value of the loan you would need to purchase the company.”
“How much would I have to pay for this loan, Mr. Hainsworth?”
“The interest will be modest and we can work out a suitable payment schedule. You will pay the bank a certain amount every month until the loan is paid off.”
“What if something happens and I can’t pay the monthly payment?”
“Then I’m afraid we would be forced to call in the loan and request full payment.”
“But I wouldn’t have it.”
“That’s where the collateral comes in. The bank would be forced to seize Cullinane Construction and sell it to recoup its losses.”
Michael’s initial euphoria quickly gave way to despair. “You mean I would lose the company?”
“That’s correct. But you needn’t worry. According to the books, it’s a sound company. I don’t know if you’re aware, Mr. Ranahan, but the building industry is growing in leaps and bounds in this city. A man who is willing to work hard can become very successful indeed. It’s all up to you.”
Michael’s head was spinning. He’d come into this office expecting to be told that his desire to own his own business was but a pipe dream with no hope of coming true. But now, he was being told that his pipe dream could indeed become a reality. All he had to do was say yes.
“Mr. Hainsworth, I’d like to talk this over with my wife, if that’s all right with you.”
“Of course. It’s a big decision and it’s not something you want to rush into lightly.”
Michael had invited Gaylord to dinner and explained the banker’s offer to Emily and Gaylord.
“That sounds wonderful to me,” Emily said, tears welling up in her eyes. “It would be a dream come true for you.”
A grinning Gaylord slapped Michael on the back. “I most hardily concur. Mind, there is no shortage of unscrupulous bankers in this city, but the Gotham Bank is not one of them. It has an excellent reputation in the banking community. You would do well to heed your banker’s advice.”
“I don’t know. I still have my doubts, and to tell the truth, fears.”
“What are you afraid of?” Emily asked.
“What if something should go wrong? What if I fell behind on my payments? I could lose the whole business. We’d be penniless, Emily.”
“As a newspaperman, I loathe to sound trite by employing tired clichés, but, as they say, ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’”
“Gaylord is right. Every successful businessman must start somewhere. I know it’s a great risk, but I have faith in you. You can do this, Michael.”
And so, three weeks later, on a bright, sunny April afternoon, a small group gathered on the sidewalk in front of the warehouse. Michael had insisted that Emily bring little Dermot to witness this momentous occasion. She had protested that he was too young to understand what was happening, but when he’d said with great emotion in his voice, “Emily, someday Dermot will come into this business with me. And someday, he’ll own it. I want him to know that he was here at the beginning,” she understood why it was important to him.
Michael, Emily, Dermot, Henrietta, Cully, Gaylord, Flynn, and all the employees gathered on the sidewalk in front of the warehouse to watch with a mixture of sadness and joy as the Cullinane Construction Company sign came down and the Ranahan Construction Company sign went up.
As the new sign was finally nailed into place, there was a loud pop that startled the group. Gaylord had brought with him a large picnic hamper stocked with several bottles of champagne and enough champagne glasses for everyone. He popped the second bottle and, grinning wildly, handed out champagne glasses. Except for Emily, and possibly Henrietta, no one assembled here had ever drunk champagne.
When the glasses were full, Gaylord raised his. “To the American dream,” he said, in a voice choking with emotion. “Where else could a poor, uneducated immigrant come to our shores and in just three short years become the owner of his own business?”
Cully, clearing his throat and looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable, raised his empty glass, which would have been full but for the glaring, reproachful stare of Henrietta, who was meticulously supporting the doctor’s order of no alcohol, and said, “I have an announcement to make.” He turned to Henrietta with a shy smile. “Mrs. Winslow has consented to be my wife.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, broken finally by the popping sound of another champagne cork. “This calls for more champagne,” Gaylord said, beaming excitedly.
Emily raised her glass and there were tears of joy in her eyes. “To Henrietta and Mr. Cullinane, all the best and a long life for both of you.”
A blushing Henrietta raised her glass. “I never thought I would marry again at this late stage of my life, but, well, there it is, and I couldn’t be happier.”
Cully held up his empty glass and turned to Henrietta imploringly. “Henrietta, I have one more toast. How about just a wee drop of champagne?”
She looked at him sternly. “Very well, Norbert, but just this once. Mind, don’t fill the glass, Gaylord.”
Flynn began to laugh. “Norbert?”
“It’s my Christian name,” Cully growled. “What’s so funny?”
&nbs
p; “I guess I didn’t think you had a Christian name. Since I’ve known you, it’s always been Cully.”
“And it will stay Cully. I don’t like my Christian name,” he muttered.
“There’s nothing wrong with your Christian name,” Henrietta said firmly. “And that is how I intend address you.”
Cully scowled at everyone. “But you lot will continue to call me Cully. Is that understood?”
“Whatever you say,” Michael said, suppressing a laugh.
Raising his half-filled glass, Cully said, “To the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.” He turned to Michael with tears in his eyes. “Ranahan, I started building this city forty years ago, but, by God, you will finish the job.”
Michael leaned over and whispered to a sleeping Dermot, “And you, my little man, will help me do that, won’t you?”
That night, back at the house, as they prepared for bed, an amused Michael said, “I couldn’t have been more surprised about Cully—Norbert—and Henrietta.”
Emily ran a brush through her hair. “I wasn’t too surprised. Didn’t you notice she was off to see Cully every chance she got even after his doctor said he was out of danger? She was like a schoolgirl with a crush.”
“On Cully? It just seems strange to me that that cantankerous old man and Henrietta, who can be cantankerous herself, would want to marry.”
“I think they’re a perfect fit, and I’m so happy for both of them.”
When Michael slipped into bed, he pulled Emily close to him and kissed her. “Gaylord was right. Who would have thought that an illiterate immigrant like me could ever own his own business?”
She squeezed him. “You’re not illiterate. You can read and write.”
“Enough to get by, I suppose. You know, when we first got here and I walked those streets, and saw all those No Irish Need Apply signs, I’ll admit, I was in despair.”
“It was hard in the beginning, but now you have your own business, I’ve added five more students to my class, and we have Dermot.”
“Speaking of the little rascal, are you going to miss having Henrietta around?”
“I will. He’s a handful.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t listen. If he doesn’t get what he wants he throws tantrums. Sometimes it’s hard to get through to him. He can be quite sullen for a little boy.”
Michael felt a chill go through him. She could have been describing his own brother, Dermot. He, too, was a handful and ended up dead because he wouldn’t listen. “Maybe we should hire on another woman to take Henrietta’s place.”
“I might need someone sooner than you think.”
“Why is that?”
Emily took Michael’s head in her hands and kissed him. “Because, Mr. Ranahan,” she whispered, “I’m pregnant.”
Michael pulled her to him. “Emily, that’s fantastic. When?”
“I’m thinking next January.”
“What’s it going to be— Oh, of course. We won’t know till he comes.”
“Or maybe till she comes.”
Michael thought about that for a moment. “That would be grand having a daughter. Of course, she couldn’t go into the business, but with the proper education you give her she’ll marry well.”
“Michael Ranahan, what kind of talk is that? If she wants to go into the business, she will.”
“A girl? Preposterous, Emily. Construction work is no work for a girl or woman.”
She snuggled close to him. “We’ll see,” she said, before falling into a deep, contented sleep.
The following Sunday, Emily invited Letta to dinner. Emily had kept in touch with Mrs. Ingersoll’s parlor maid, but it had been months since they’d last spoken. It would be a good time to catch up. When Gaylord arrived, he was pleasantly surprised to see Letta helping Emily in the kitchen.
“Letta, it’s so good to see you again. How have you been?”
“Well enough, Mr. Temple.”
Emily thought she heard a certain evasiveness in Letta’s tone, but she let it pass.
As soon as Henrietta and Cully arrived, they sat down to dinner.
As Gaylord passed the platter of chicken, he said, “Has anyone seen the new St. Nicholas Hotel?”
“I have,” Michael said. “I wish I’d have had a hand in the building of it. It’s quite grand.”
“I tried to get in there when they started building it two years ago,” Cully growled, “but that damn Tammany kept me out.”
“They say it can accommodate eight hundred guests,” Michael interjected, trying to divert Cully from a blood pressure raising tirade. “Is that true, Gaylord?”
“It is. I’m told they spent more than a million dollars on walnut wainscoting, frescoed ceilings, gas lighted chandeliers, hot running water, and central heating. It makes the Astor House pale in comparison. With its white marble façade stretching from Broome to Spring Street, it’s quite a sight.”
Henrietta angrily rapped her knuckles on the table. “There is something wrong with a society that builds extravagant palaces like that while there are people literally dying in the streets.”
“I agree,” Emily said. “Last winter a man froze to death less than two blocks from here. Is there nothing to be done?”
“I understand the police are taking in the homeless and letting them sleep in the precinct basements,” Michael said.
“Maybe so, but there aren’t enough precincts in the city to accommodate all the homeless.”
“I fear for this city,” Gaylord said, shaking his head. The cost of necessities has risen almost thirty percent this year alone. And it seems every day a new group of workers is going on strike. One day it’s omnibus drivers, the next day it’s hat makers, and on and on.”
“What’s City Hall doing about it,” asked Letta.
Gaylord chuckled. “City Hall is part of the problem.”
“That and Tammany,” Cully muttered.
After dinner, the women went into the parlor for tea, leaving the men to talk politics and business. Cully wanted to stay and argue politics, but Henrietta insisted he was overtired and it was time to go. With barely a murmur of protest from the old man, they said their good nights and departed.
Emily brought a tray of tea and crackers into the parlor. When they were both served, Emily, remembering Letta’s response to Gaylord, said, “How are things really going for you, Letta?
“It’s not good. Since Mr. Ingersoll’s death, Mrs. Ingersoll spends all her time in her room. I haven’t been paid in over a month.”
“That’s terrible. What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. What Gaylord said earlier about the rising cost of necessities is true. I’ve talked to other servants in Gramercy Park. Some of the servants have been let go. Everybody’s worried. I’m not happy where I am, but if I leave Mrs. Ingersoll’s employ, I’m afraid I may not find another position.”
“I’d be glad to hire you.”
“You will?”
“Yes. Henrietta has been a great help with Dermot, but now that she’s married, and me with a new baby on the way and French classes to teach, I’m going to need help. We have a spare bedroom for you.”
Letta’s eyes moistened. “Oh, Emily, that would be wonderful. You have no idea how dreadful it is to live in a house that’s in perpetual mourning.”
“I can imagine. When can you start?”
“I’ll have to give my two weeks’ notice.”
“Of course.” Emily embraced Letta. “Welcome to our home.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“That’s not a good idea, Michael. Not a good idea at all.”
Such was Gaylord’s response to Michael’s announcement that he was going to march in the Independence Day parade on July 4th.
They were eating at an oyster bar on Pine Street, where Gaylord was trying, one more time, to introduce his friend to oysters, the current rage of the city. But Michael would have none of it.
“And wh
y is it not a good idea?” Michael asked, looking away as Gaylord slid another giant oyster into his mouth.
Gaylord wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You know there’s bad blood between the Catholics and the Protestants nativists. Why would you want to march in their damn parade anyway? You’re not even Catholic. You said so yourself. Are you sure you don’t want an oyster?”
“I’m sure.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” Gaylord slid the plate of oysters toward Michael.
“I’ve gotten this far without eating an oyster,” he said, sliding the plate back to Gaylord. “I imagine I can get through the rest of my life without them.”
“Have you noticed all those oyster stands on street corners?”
“How could I not?”
“Some of the stands advertise all-you-can-eat oysters for six cents.” He chuckled. “But here’s the thing; if a customer eats too many oysters, the vender slips him a bad one to make him sick.”
“Well, I’ll never have to worry about that.”
“Pity. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“About the parade, I’m a businessman now, Gaylord. I’ve got to make connections and that means keeping on the good side of the likes of Tammany and that other group—what’s it called?”
“The Ancient Order of Hibernians,” Gaylord said dryly.
“I’ve been told it’s going to be a peaceful parade.”
The newspaperman roared with laughter. “There is no such thing as a peaceful parade in Manhattan, my good friend. I’ll give you an example. Back in ‘24, Irish Protestants marched to commemorate the anniversary of the Battle of the Boyne and they clashed with Irish Catholics who didn’t take kindly to the Protestants celebrating Protestant ascendancy in Ireland.”
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