by Brock Law
fun?”
“All quiet otherwise?” Will inquired.
“Saturday night in the summer, you know. Everyone has been excessively…” Madison thought for a word.
“Excessive?” Adams humored.
Hancock exclaimed, “We’ve been at the ale for quite a while now, but the rest of the restaurant has been pretty tame.”
The immortals chuckled.
“Drunk again,” Will whispered to himself. “Immortality really is useless.”
The calmer Adams said, “It’s been fine. We’re just finishing up.”
“If only we could find some other resolution to this,” Hamilton suggested. “It’s a shame to waste your summer hanging out with a bunch of old men, William.”
“I wish it wasn’t under such weird circumstances,” Will said, “but I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity otherwise.”
“That’s precisely what I’ve been saying,” Adams boasted. “You’ll have a leg up on your peers when you graduate.”
“Sure, why don’t I come in as a guest lecturer this semester?” Hancock said sarcastically.
“Yeah you, me and Franklin in his own institution,” Hamilton said.
“As shallow as old friends can be after two hundred some years, I have to admit that you have the three of them to thank for your entire vocation Will,” Adams accepted. “The classroom is the perfect place for someone antiquely persuasive.”
“But several hot tempered expulsions later, Adams could never get another teaching gig,” Madison cackled. “It’s far better to have a college named after you than to spend any more time in one. Methods and philosophies change. It’s not the place for someone living in the past.”
“Yes, it’s impossible to convince someone that you did or said something that was never recorded,” Hamilton added.
“You’d have to debate that with my dad. He’d love to argue with you over historical inaccuracies,” Will commented.
“I’m sure the professor would be incorrigible,” Adams stated.
“It’s been almost impossible not to tell him what I’ve been doing the last few weeks,” Will anguished. “I almost slipped up a few times. He would kill to be here.”
“Men of action is what we need,” Hamilton pounded the table. “Sign him up!”
“I think you’ve been out of the artillery a little too long, Alex,” Hancock provoked.
“Not at all. A little fire power is the primary element missing from this expedition,” Hamilton judged.
“Has he told you, William,” Madison said, “when his wife wanted to center their garden with a fountain, what he placed there instead?”
Hamilton barged in, “One of the first cannons I stole from His Majesty, of course!”
“That’s nothing,” Adams escalated, “I still have General Cornwallis’ dinnerware. Abigail and I still eat off of it at the anniversary of Yorktown.”
“Do you? I had no idea. You’ll have to invite us over for it. It’ll be like a warm up for Thanksgiving. I don’t think I saved anything nearly as interesting,” Madison said. “Some of my notes for the Constitution perhaps. I probably trashed them.”
Will palmed his forehead, “Picking through your garbage is going to pay my tuition.”
“How would I have known there would be a market for it?” Madison complained. “I’m sure I’ve misplaced thousands of priceless artifacts over the years.”
“Was it you who accidently mixed some old currency through one of those coin machines at the grocery store?” Adams accused.
Madison smiled guiltily, “I got back $17.50.”
The immortals laughed hysterically. A server looked over and rolled his eyes as they slapped their knees. Will shook his head, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“That’s alright,” Hamilton consoled. “I salvaged a chest of them from one of the Fed stores when their minting was discontinued.”
Hancock spoke up, “I do still have one of Thomas’ draft copies of the Declaration. It’s under glass in my office.”
“Really?” Will asked.
“I keep it right next to an autographed Babe Ruth baseball,” Hancock devalued humorously.
The men began chuckling again as Madison encouraged, “No kidding? Babe Ruth?”
“Yeah, guess which one people ask about at Christmas parties?” Hancock punched.
The immortals rocked their chairs with merriment, drowning out the rest of the restaurant. They paid no mind to the server, who stopped briefly to refill their water glasses without waiting to give them a chance to place another drink order. Will observed they must have been at it for a while, determined to take the edge off the unknown state of the missing statesman.
“Alright, let’s pay up,” Hamilton coaxed. “We can’t take up table space all night.”
“Let’s head to that place across the street,” Hancock planned. “We may be of better use keeping an eye on the exterior for activity, while the others are upstairs.”
“Sure,” Madison responded, “A little port may be in order.”
“Good idea,” Adams agreed, “just the thing to help me to sleep. William?”
Will declined, “I think I’ll stay and have some dinner.”
“Right,” Hamilton raised an eye at him, “I’m sure you’ll want to hit those bars around the corner later anyway. If only there were such places for bachelors to meet young women when I was your age. I really missed out. Maybe I ought to come with you instead.”
“The only thing you missed out on was an earlier death,” Adams jabbed. “I can’t imagine what kind of trouble you would have gotten yourself in, but I would bet that it would not have been a duel over politics that would have killed you.”
Hamilton huffed, “You’re probably right. Still though, tempting.”
“Indeed, precisely why we should move on to a more selective establishment,” Hancock convinced. “We already have plenty of trouble on the docket.”
“The Man Full of Trouble! That’s the place. I’ve been trying to remember it all day,” Madison shouted.
“By God, class joint!” Hamilton exclaimed back. “Never a feistier tavern in a rougher place! Philly’s original dive bar. If only we could have taken you there, Will. Vermin, sailors, rentals, thieves, dice, politics, the cheapest drinks in town, and therefore assuredly, a brawl every night. James and I were tippled one evening and wandered in. Had the time of our lives. Back then there was a tavern for every two dozen men in this town? That one, however, was by far the least particular. What reminded you of that place, James?”
“The building is still there,” Madison informed. “I passed by earlier today. It’s just a preservation now, unfortunately.”
“Well there’s our next project,” Hamilton decreed, “We must reopen The Man Full Of Trouble to its former ingloriousness. In the meantime, William, you have some fun for us. We’ll see you in the morning.”
Will shook hands with them again, as they signaled for the check. After only a few steps he could hear them joking about something else, prompting renewed alcoholic enthusiasm. The server passed him towards the table with a look of relief.
No less crowded, the entrance way still had a few groups waiting to be seated. Hot and anxious, there was a lot of grumbling from those in line as well as the hostess. Will managed to squeeze through to the staircase, excusing himself to the stationary gangs of impatient parties. Once upstairs, he looked down the hall. Immediately, he saw the three Generals sitting rigidly at the center table in the dining room ahead. Lit dimly by candles and the incandescent glow from the street lamps beaming in through the front window, they mimed an inaudible conversation.
Washington perked up once Will made eye contact with him. Greene and Wayne did likewise, leaning in to ensure that no one was following the young man. As they always did, they stood to receive him to their table, simultaneously offering their hands.
“Good evening William,” Washington opened.
“Glad you could join us,” Greene acknowledged. “We haven’t
ordered yet. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Thank you for inviting me, I am,” Will had been becoming more formal than he was previous to the last few weeks.
“Although, I don’t usually say so,” said Washington, “hopefully it will be another dull evening. The crowd downstairs was a bit too lively for me.”
Wayne smiled as he alluded to the earlier diners, “Well they’re a bit ahead of us, certainly useless for the closing watch.”
“How many times did a thirsty watch let Jaegers slip right through our pickets at night?” Greene remembered with almost fond recollection.
“Countless,” Washington sighed, “but at least we returned the favor at Trenton.”
“Which I hope hasn’t inspired them to return it back,” Greene replied.
“Those Germans are never idle,” Wayne branded.
“It’s strange,” Washington mused, “for as much as societies change, cultures do not.”
A voice from behind interrupted, “But even a small change in each person is all you need to birth a new one.”
They turned around to see that Jefferson had snuck up on them. It was incredible how a mind of his magnitude displaced such a reserved social presence. Politely, he sat and reached across the table to greet them all.
Will couldn’t help but judge them in contemporary terms. Their overwhelming sense of accomplishment bred out most competitive elements. There was no one who could out do them. This was true of Washington and Jefferson in a particularly gentlemanly way. Neither felt the need to challenge Will’s youth, allowing due time for all things. Though developing, they recognized his qualities. It was not continuous