by Roger Weston
“I’ll let him know.”
“Wonderful, and again, some of the paparazzi can be very engaging and friendly. If any of them somehow get past security, Jake must alert security immediately.”
“I’m clear on that.”
“Excellent.” Marilyn rose and Ashley noticed a couple of heads turning at other tables. “If either you or Jake would like to get a massage, manicure, pedicure, facial or tanning, just put it on your tab at the hotel and we’ll pay for it.”
Ashley laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“The thought of Jake getting a pedicure and a massage. That’s not going to happen.”
“Charles gets massages all the time. Encourage Jake to try it. If he delivers a good speech and follows all the rules, Mr. Richter will no doubt reward him handsomely. There’s no telling what Jake could become accustomed to. It’s all about being a team player. Let us know if you have any needs or if there are any inconveniences at the hotel. If you want to see any events or shows, let us know and we’ll take care of it—anything. Whatever your needs, we’ll see to it that you’re accommodated right away.”
“You’re very kind,” Ashley said. “Thank you.”
Marilyn shook her hand. “Team player.”
CHAPTER 7
Santa Anita Horse Track
Arcadia, California
Jake stood by a side gate at Santa Anita next to a sign that said Employees Only. Charles Richter’s Bentley had dropped him off at the spot then quickly driven off.
The chain link door swung open, and a soft-spoken man in a suit led him to an upper-level box seat.
Charles stood and greeted Jake, a diamond-studded pin of a ship adorning the lapel of his pin-stripe suit. “Enjoy yourself, Jake. In life a man either wins or dies, but he never plays it safe when doing so means living in defeat. Don’t you agree?”
Jake nodded. “Sure.”
A bookie who smelled like a cigar joined them to take their bets.
Charles put $100,000 on a horse called Last Run Glory. When Jake bet $5 on Fast Mama, Charles laughed and patted him on the back.
“Good call, Sands. That’s all I would’ve bet on that horse.”
They sat down in the plush club room, and Jake took in the sweeping view of the San Gabriel Mountains.
“Nice view,” he said.
“I agree, although not everyone who’s spent time here has felt the same way. During the Second World War, Santa Anita was shut down and used as a Japanese American internment center.”
“Really?” Jake said. “So about the time the Queen Mary was transporting troops to battle, civilians were being rounded up here.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. And this isn’t the only place innocent civilians were rounded up.” Charles sipped on his Bloody Mary. “Why’d you pick Fast Mama anyway?”
Jake shrugged. “I liked the name.”
Charles grinned. “What’d you like about it?”
“She sounds fast. How’d you pick yours?”
“I own him. He’s a Chilean mount with a fabulous pedigree. The Chilean horses have been doing well for several years now, but this beast is a bullet, and sparks fly off his hooves when he comes down the stretch. I have more big winners at my ranch in Chile. My trainer has an instinct for gifted horses and an even more amazing skill developing them. Grew up around the tracks and knows nothing else.”
“Makes sense.”
Charles was impressed with his pick, not just of his horse, but his choice of speaker for the commemorative send off speech for the Queen Mary. The man chose a horse based on its name without asking any questions. That told Charles that he’d selected the right man. Sands was not a digger. He was smart, but by no means a typical academic. He was a low-ranking professor, lived on houseboat, took his boat out when not teaching, was raised by a single mother, drove his skiff to work, and spent more time out at sea than pumping out academic papers. Perfect.
“I’m glad I crossed paths with you, Sands. My friends do very well in life. I think it’s time you traded in that old rust-bucket fishing boat of yours for something newer and bigger and faster, something that’s top of the line.”
“I like my boat. She’s like an old friend.”
“You really should think about your legacy. Friends are nice, but it’s more important to be remembered. To leave an indelible impression, a man has to make big bold splashes and create waves. To be remembered, one must dazzle and astonish. One must be willing to take risks if he is to make a big splash.”
“I’m not so concerned about being remembered. Who cares?”
“Because to be remembered is to be immortal.”
“It all sounds like a lot of grasping at air to me. I make waves in my crab boat. Give me that and the chance to explore old ships and read myself to sleep with sea stories, and I’m happy.”
Charles scoffed. “The Queen Mary makes waves, but her waves are bigger than the ripples you’re talking about. She lives in the memories of millions, and her influence will only grow.”
“How’s that?”
“She will be remembered. Don’t forget that she was the biggest, the fastest and the most glamorous ship of her time. There are many firsts and superlatives attached to her name and memory. Her best days are truly ahead of her. Now my name will forever be linked to her—one symbol of greatness attached to another. I guarantee that the Queen’s glory will be greater for being associated with my name. You are a maritime historian. In time you may even want to write about the great ship.”
“I might.”
“Her best days are ahead of her. You’ll see.”
“What exactly are your plans for her?”
He smiled. “She is my greatest gamble.” He laughed. “Here come the horses.”
After the first race, Charles collected his winnings and introduced Jake to his Chilean jockey, a man who nodded at Jake, but said nothing and treated his horse like a fussy mother her baby. “He is the best,” Charles said. “Absolutely inimitable.”
In the second race, Charles noticed that Jake bet on the same horse as he did and doubled his bet to $10. “You’re a smart man,” Charles said. “Those who follow big footsteps do big things.”
Jake nodded, but looked in the other direction.
Charles was proven correct in his prediction because the horse won, and Jake made forty bucks. “Take bigger risks, Sands. See if you don’t feel more alive. Only he who risks major failure can know major success. If you’d just bet everything you have, then you might get on the right track.”
When they were back in their seats, Charles said, “Follow my lead and you’ll do very well. That goes for the speech, too. Just cover a few historical high points and dazzle the audience with some of the statistics that were included in the public relations packet that my assistant gave your assistant. Avoid any talk about the sale. There are some people in Long Beach who aren’t happy that they are losing their famous landmark, and the mood could get nasty pretty fast. Just stay positive. Keep it upbeat, and I’ll write you a powerful reference letter. That letter will open doors for you on the speaking circuit, believe me. I’ll spread the word, too. You’ll start to hear your phone ring more often and watch your bank account grow.”
“That sounds good to me,” Jake said.
Charles looked over at Jake and smiled. “Just remember, we’re on the same team.”
Jake nodded. Yeah, he hoped to spend more time getting paid for speaking engagements, and the Queen Mary commemoration was a big deal that would give him national credibility and might allow him to go on the speaking circuit to tell his inspirational stories. Sea stories were in his blood. It was the one connection he had with his father. His dad had always entertained him with great sea stories. Not only that, the only memories Jake had of his father were when he had gone to sea with him.
Big speaking engagements would also keep him in good graces with his department chair without requiring him to pitch a tent in the library. He could improvise h
is speeches on the spot and hit the high points and emotional cords that would move his audience. It was all good.
CHAPTER 8
Richter Beachfront Hotel
Long Beach, California
December 17
In his hotel room, Jake turned on the news and sat in a geometrically upholstered chair while he guzzled a bottle of water from the fridge in his suite. He had a few minutes before he was supposed to meet Ashley in the lobby. They planned on going to Spagos for dinner. Richter had recommended the restaurant and suggested that Jake pick the Joseph Phelps Cabernet Sauvignon from the wine list. He also insisted that Jake put the bill on his personal tab. Jake wasn’t going to have a problem doing that. He’d have been happy with a can of baked beans, but it would be good for Ashley to relax and be treated like the treasure she was. Jake sat back in the lush chair and watched a few news stories. He was about to turn off the TV and head to the lobby when a teaser for the next story caught his attention. The anchor had said something about the Queen Mary. After a commercial, the anchor came back onto the screen visibly shaken.
“We have a breaking story tonight.” The anchor had a lean, angular face, and his lips trembled slightly. “Our own Ted Liston has passed away. He was found in his car dead from asphyxiation; his exhaust pipe diverted into the cab. A suicide note was found next to his body; however, foul play has not been ruled out. Ted was known as an aggressive investigative reporter who made enemies over the years. At the time of his death, Ted was working on three big unfinished stories: the release of convicted murderer Warren Selby, the Mexican drug cartels’ growing influence in Southern California, and the sale of the Queen Mary by the City of Long Beach. Police chief Rick Cullman says his death doesn’t fit the pattern of a cartel hit, but an investigation is underway. Whatever the cause of death, Ted Liston will be greatly missed here. We will be following the story closely. Next up…”
A knock on the door startled Jake. He answered it, and Ashley brushed past him, her flowing red hair bouncing, and a look of concern on her face.
“I was just about to head to the lobby,” Jake said. “Are you ready for Spagos?”
“Did you see the news?”
“You mean about the Queen Mary?”
“Yes, the reporter. Doesn’t it bother you that he was killed?”
“Not really. This is Los Angeles. These things happen all the time.”
“Obviously, but this whole trip has never felt right to me. No offense, Jake. You’re a good speaker, but you’re unknown. It’s strange that they practically tell you what to say. Did Richter tell you about the rules?”
“They’re a little uptight, but why worry about it? Let’s go eat. It’s a five star restaurant and free. Then I have passes to a comedy show. Afterwards we’ll take a walk on the beach.”
“You’re not worried?”
“No, not at all.”
She ran her hands through her long red hair. “Alright, I’ll try to relax. A walk sounds nice.” She looked at him with radiant eyes. “Let me grab my purse.”
CHAPTER 9
Parking lot of the Queen Mary
Port of Long Beach
December 18
With the Queen Mary for a backdrop, Jake began his speech by informing the crowd of Richter’s rules. He noticed a collection of frowns and crossed arms and people fidgeting in their foldout chairs as he spoke. “Today, we send off an icon from the Golden Age of Steamships,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the massive wall of black steel that was slashed horizontally with red water-level paint. “We send off the world’s most famous luxury ocean liner. Not only is she known for her celebrated years of providing elegant crossings of the Atlantic, but during World War Two, this legendary ship was used in almost every major Allied campaign.”
Jake noticed the crowd relax a little. He continued.
“She was dubbed ‘The Grey Ghost’ because of her wartime color and the speed in which she could cut through Atlantic fogs. She was particularly adept at out-witting the deadly German U-boats that sought her out. She could top 30 knots, and in her day captured the world record for doing so. She and her sister ship Elizabeth were the biggest and quickest transport ships available to the Allies. At one time, she carried 16,802 troops from New York to Great Britain—a record that stands to this day.
“As is true in life for all of us, the Queen has had her share of dark days. During the war she ran over one of her own escort ships, killing 239 off the coast of Ireland. There have been tragedies aboard her decks as well. On one luxury voyage an eight-year old girl was brutally attacked and killed in one of the staterooms and a young woman named Sarah was murdered in a changing room in first-class. Many other suspicious deaths followed. Perhaps the most gruesome was when hungry troops stuffed a chef into one of the industrial-sized ovens and cooked him alive because they couldn’t stand his food. It’s been said that the souls of those lost onboard still walk the halls. Maybe that’s why she is considered one of the most haunted places in the world.”
Jake paused for a moment to let that sink in. He noticed a few people in the audience looked visibly disturbed.
“After the war, as if to atone for the sins of her past, she made thirteen war-bride voyages. She transported over 12,000 European women and children to their American husbands and fathers. And then due to the foresight of the city of Long Beach, she was preserved and today stands as a symbol of perseverance and greatness. This is one old lady that will be deeply missed.”
His words brought thundering applause from a crowd who mostly resented the sale to Charles Richter and who realized that once more they’d been sold out by politicians.
“We’re not just sending off a ship today,” Jake said, his voice booming across the crowd like a cannon. “We’re sending off the last survivor of a generation of great ocean liners that safely carried their passengers across the oceans in the first half of the 20th century. We say good-bye to a priceless historical landmark. Please join me by taking a final tour of the ship.”
Jake gestured toward the gangplank. “Let’s get out of the sun, shall we?” As the group walked up the metal plank and onto the massive ship like a school of fish, Jake continued: “The Queen Mary has a fascinating history and one which we would all do well to learn and remember.”
They paused at the ship’s bell, silencing the marching of shoes on the old hardwood floor. “This is the entrance to the first-class shops on the Promenade deck,” Jake said, knowing that this was the only deck that Richter had given him permission to show the group.
It made sense, he thought to himself. It was a large ship and it would take a lot of time to tour. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it didn’t make sense at all. Why would Richter care what the group saw? The Queen had been open to the public for years in her capacity as a hotel. Jake put it out of his mind. He was excited to check out the deck. The Queen Mary was an icon of excellence and history.
But as they stepped into the first-class shopping center, Jake was stunned by what he saw. Planters stood upright next to the grand entrance, but the plants were dry and dead like the tentacles of sun-baked seaweed plucked from the beach at low tide. The floors had all the shine of sea scum and featured gouges and broken hardwood. A piece of twisted black tarp stretched carelessly across the floor by an overturned steel trash barrel. Several more of the 55 gallon steel drums lined the deck. All of them were overflowing with debris.
What Jake remembered seeing in the public relations photo-spread as a grand shopping mall was now barely recognizable. Windows of the once-elegant stores showed glass-shards around wide frames like a school of sharks circling their prey, mouths open and teeth bared. Richter hadn’t even bothered to board up the damage. Beyond that, Jake saw only darkness inside empty shells of abandoned shops. The Queen Mary was like an abandoned palace, one cleared out in a hurry after a rout. Jake noticed bird droppings on the hardwood floor next to one of the dead potted plants. He was shocked. Why would Richter al
low anyone to tour the boat in this condition?
As far as Jake was concerned, Richter should have at least shown the public the respect of cleaning up before the final tour. Jake certainly knew that the man could afford it. Perhaps he didn’t want the community to feel too bad about what they were losing. If the ship was in prime condition, maybe they wouldn’t have let her slip out of their grasp so easily.
Broken glass crackled under his feet as he led the group out of the shopping area and down the dim hallway. The windows of the Observation Lounge gave a sprawling view of the ship’s bow; however, the panes were dirty and the view obscured. Next to that a couple of empty beer kegs lay on their side. When Jake had seen a picture of this lounge, the Art Deco room glistened and was populated with bartenders, ladies in evening gowns and men in tuxedos. It used to shine with luxury, but now cobwebs stretched across the arms of every chair and stool, even those that were knocked over and lay on their side. The bar itself featured a thick layer of dust. Grime seemed to cover every inch of the place. Every once in a while a thud from above would dislodge dust from the ceiling, and it would come cascading down upon them. Jake looked up and wondered what was going on above them. He turned his attention to the painting behind the bar. He knew it was the Royal Jubilee Week painted by A.R. Thomason. It ran the length of the bar and showed men and women partying in a festive ballroom. Graffiti scrawled across the bottom and the kegs spoke of a more recent unauthorized party on the decks of the Queen Mary.
Now Jake understood why Charles’s didn’t want anybody to go past the Promenade deck. The ship was a mess. Why would Richter, who was so concerned about public relations, invite anyone on this ship? Whatever his plans were for the vessel, he had a lot of work to do. Maybe he was planning to sell her for scrap. Jake wouldn’t be surprised if he did. What a sad ending to an amazing ship. He hated to think of her fate.