practical joking (or maybe just to get young John off his neck), had bought him, upon graduation, a tiny toy newspaper in Wichita to play with. I am sure its daily editorials kept Big John floor-bound and howling, but John junior, as is the case with so many of our great men, had no sense of humor at all, and the Wichita Wrangle, or whatever it was called, gave him a Mission along with his folie de grandeur.
“Course,” he went on, not giving us an inch more space to breathe in up there against the door, “I wouldn’t have dreamed of coming if this important Conference weren’t getting under way. I know darned well I haven’t given myself very long in these three weeks to cover it—not anything commensurate with its importance—but it’s all I’m going to be able to spare. Hell …” he let out a sharp little staccato bark to warn me of the approaching joke, “… somebody’s got to mind the store back home.” You could see his mind suddenly four thousand miles away, worrying over some vital, burning domestic issue—like the contraceptives that had been turning up recently in the bomb-proof shelters of that five-block area.…
“Anyhoo,” he shook himself and honored us again with his complete presence, “anyhoo, when we went for briefing last week at a meeting of the Soil Erosion Committee of the ACFEA.…”
“The
what?
”
John was always very patient with me.
“The Agricultural Commission for European Aid has been meeting for the past two weeks right here under your very nose, for heaven’s sake, S. J.,” he explained to me, not unkindly, “and the problems of Kansas as you know being mainly agricultural, naturally my Rag’s main interest is going to be focused on the developments of this project. Anyhoo—at this particular meeting there was a question I wanted to ask—I wasn’t quite sure of the protocol, so I introduced myself …” (John was always wanting to ask questions and introduce himself. He couldn’t even go to the men’s room of a Pennsylvania Railroad coach without asking a question and introducing himself. He was a real man from Mars, that boy, he even looked like one.) “… so I introduced myself to the person sitting on my left. And who should it be but Senor Visconti here.” He turned to indicate whom he meant, at last acknowledging the presence of someone else in the room. “He’s been terribly helpful to me ever since—and darned if he didn’t know my baby cousin—so—well, hell, here we are! Say, nobody in America seems to have your correct address …” a slight frown clouded his smooth brow at the thought of such inefficiency.
“I moved,” I said, pushing him aside (we’d have been there allnight if I hadn’t), and then, composing myself, I introduced Larry to John; Larry to Teddy; and much to her surprise, Larry to John’s wife, who now came drifting toward us.
I think Dody Gorce was
always
greatly surprised at each new discovery of her separate identity. Not one of those wives who have to glance spasmodically at their husbands before speaking; she simply never took her eyes off him at all if she could help it. When politeness demanded she tear herself away to acknowledge an introduction, she wasted no time in returning to her permanent resting place.
“Mais c’est formidable ces deux cousins, n’est-ce pas? On voit immediatement la ressemblance!” shrilled a voice behind us and, swinging around in a fury to confront whoever had delivered this malicious slander, I got my first look at the Contessa.
What with one thing and another I was to see quite a lot of this woman, but I’ll be damned if I can tell you to this day much about her. For instance, I haven’t the slightest idea what her name was or her nationality for that matter. (She could have been German or Austrian or Liechtensteinian for all I knew.) The reason for this was that apart from “Hello” and “Good-by,” she never at any time addressed a single other word in my
“Course,” he went on, not giving us an inch more space to breathe in up there against the door, “I wouldn’t have dreamed of coming if this important Conference weren’t getting under way. I know darned well I haven’t given myself very long in these three weeks to cover it—not anything commensurate with its importance—but it’s all I’m going to be able to spare. Hell …” he let out a sharp little staccato bark to warn me of the approaching joke, “… somebody’s got to mind the store back home.” You could see his mind suddenly four thousand miles away, worrying over some vital, burning domestic issue—like the contraceptives that had been turning up recently in the bomb-proof shelters of that five-block area.…
“Anyhoo,” he shook himself and honored us again with his complete presence, “anyhoo, when we went for briefing last week at a meeting of the Soil Erosion Committee of the ACFEA.…”
“The
what?
”
John was always very patient with me.
“The Agricultural Commission for European Aid has been meeting for the past two weeks right here under your very nose, for heaven’s sake, S. J.,” he explained to me, not unkindly, “and the problems of Kansas as you know being mainly agricultural, naturally my Rag’s main interest is going to be focused on the developments of this project. Anyhoo—at this particular meeting there was a question I wanted to ask—I wasn’t quite sure of the protocol, so I introduced myself …” (John was always wanting to ask questions and introduce himself. He couldn’t even go to the men’s room of a Pennsylvania Railroad coach without asking a question and introducing himself. He was a real man from Mars, that boy, he even looked like one.) “… so I introduced myself to the person sitting on my left. And who should it be but Senor Visconti here.” He turned to indicate whom he meant, at last acknowledging the presence of someone else in the room. “He’s been terribly helpful to me ever since—and darned if he didn’t know my baby cousin—so—well, hell, here we are! Say, nobody in America seems to have your correct address …” a slight frown clouded his smooth brow at the thought of such inefficiency.
“I moved,” I said, pushing him aside (we’d have been there allnight if I hadn’t), and then, composing myself, I introduced Larry to John; Larry to Teddy; and much to her surprise, Larry to John’s wife, who now came drifting toward us.
I think Dody Gorce was
always
greatly surprised at each new discovery of her separate identity. Not one of those wives who have to glance spasmodically at their husbands before speaking; she simply never took her eyes off him at all if she could help it. When politeness demanded she tear herself away to acknowledge an introduction, she wasted no time in returning to her permanent resting place.
“Mais c’est formidable ces deux cousins, n’est-ce pas? On voit immediatement la ressemblance!” shrilled a voice behind us and, swinging around in a fury to confront whoever had delivered this malicious slander, I got my first look at the Contessa.
What with one thing and another I was to see quite a lot of this woman, but I’ll be damned if I can tell you to this day much about her. For instance, I haven’t the slightest idea what her name was or her nationality for that matter. (She could have been German or Austrian or Liechtensteinian for all I knew.) The reason for this was that apart from “Hello” and “Good-by,” she never at any time addressed a single other word in my
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