\nWhen not tending New York holdings, Guy Grand was generally, as he expressed it, \u201con the<\/em> go.\u201d He took cross-country trips by train: New York to Miami, Miami to Seattle\u2014that sort of thing\u2014always on a slow train, one that makes frequent stops. Accommodation on these trains is limited and, though he did engage the best, Grand often had to be satisfied with scarcely more than the essentials of comfort. But he didn\u2019t mind, and on this particular summer afternoon, at precisely 2:05, he stepped onto the first Pullman of the Portland Plougher<\/em>, found his compartment, and began the pleasant routine of settling in for the long slow trip to New York. As was his habit, he immediately rang the porter to bring round a large bottle of Campari and a thermos of finely-iced water; then he sat down at his desk to write business letters.<\/p>\nIt was known that for any personal service Grand was inclined to tip generously, and because of this there were usually three or four porters loitering in the corridor near his compartment. They kept a sharp eye on the compartment-door, in case Grand should signal some need or other; and, as the train pulled out of the station, they could hear him moving about inside, humming to himself, and shuffling papers to and fro on his desk. Before the train made its first stop, however, they would have to scurry, for Grand\u2019s orders were that the porters should not be seen when he came out of his compartment; and he did come out, at every stop.\n<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
<\/p>\n
\nAt the first of these stops, which was not long in coming, Grand quickly went to the adjoining day-coach and took a seat by the window. There he was able to lean out and observe the activity on the platform\u2014attracting little attention himself, resembling as he did, with his pleasant red face, any honest farmer.<\/p>\n
From the train window one could see over and beyond the station the rest of the small New England town\u2014motionless now in the summer afternoon, like a toy mausoleum\u2014while all that seemed to live within the town was being skillfully whipped underground and funneled up again in swift urgency onto the station platform, where small square cartons were unloaded from the central car.<\/p>\n
But amidst the confusion of the platform, there was one recognizable figure; this was the man who sold hotdogs from a box he carried strapped to his neck.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re red-hot<\/em>!\u201d he cried repeatedly, walking up and down parallel to the train and only a foot from it.<\/p>\nGrand, after a minute of general observation, focused all his attention on this person and, at exactly one minute before departure, he began his case with the hotdog-man.<\/p>\n
\u201cRed-hot!\u201d he shouted; and when the man reached his window, Grand eyed him shrewdly for a second, squinting, as through appraising his character, before asking, tight-lipped:<\/p>\n
\u201cHow much<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cTwenty-cents,\u201d the man said hurriedly\u2014for this train was about to pull out\u2014\u201c\u2026mustard and relish, they\u2019re red-hot<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cDone!\u201d Grand said with a sober nod, and as the train actually began to move forward and the hotdog-man to walk rapidly in keeping abreast of the window, Guy Grand leaned out and handed him a five-hundred dollar bill.<\/p>\n
\u201cBreak this?\u201d he asked tersely.<\/p>\n
The hotdog-man, in trying to utilize all their remaining time, passed the hotdog to Grand and reached into his change pocket even before having looked carefully at the bill\u2014so that by the time he made out its denomination, he was running almost full tilt, grimacing oddly and shaking his head, trying to return the bill with one hand and recover the hotdog with the other. During their final second together, with the hotdog-man\u2019s last overwhelming effort to reach his outstretched hand, Grand reached into his own coat pocket and took out a plastic animal-mask\u2014that of a pig\u2014which he quickly donned before beginning to gorge the hotdog in through the mouth of the mask, at the same time reaching out wildly for the bill, yet managing somehow to keep it just beyond his finger\u2019s grasp, and continuing with this while the distance between the two men lengthened, hopelessly, until at last the hotdog-man stood exhausted on the end of the platform, still holding the five-hundred dollar bill, and staring after the vanishing train.<\/p>\n
When Grand finally drew himself back from the window, it was to face a middle-aged woman across the aisle who was sitting half twisted in her seat, observing Grand with a curiosity so intense that the instant of their eyes actually meeting did not seem to register with her. Then she coughed and glanced away\u2014but irresistibly back again, as Guy Grand rose, all smiles, to leave the day-coach, giving the woman an affectionate wink of conspiracy as he did.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust having a laugh with that hot-frank vendor,\u201d he explained, \u201c\u2026no real harm done, surely.\u201d<\/p>\n
He returned to his compartment then, where he sat at the desk, sipping his Campari\u2014a drink the color of raspberries, but extremely bitter\u2014and speculating about the possible reactions of the hotdog-man.<\/p>\n
Outside the compartment, even at the far end of the corridor, the idle porters could often hear his soft odd chortle as he stirred about inside.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrand-Guy\u201d Guy Grand was a billionaire. He had 180 millions cash-deposit in New York banks, and this ready-capital was but a part of his gross holdings.<\/p>\n
At 53, Grand had a thick trunk and a large balding bullet-head; his face was quite pink, so that in certain half-lights he looked like a fat radish-man\u2014though not too displeasingly so, for he always sported well-cut clothes and, near the throat, a diamond the size of a nickel.<\/p>\n
Grand\u2019s associates, wealthy men themselves, saw nothing extraordinary about him: a reticent man of simple tastes they thought, a man who had come into most of his money and had preserved it through large safe investments in steel, rubber, and oil. And though it was true\u2014as happened often enough at conference table\u2014that Grand would come forward with the incisive remark expected from men of his station, he was called \u201cGrand-Guy\u201d because of some forgotten thing he had done as a young man, or perhaps more than anything else, because he properly looked the part of a billionaire, dressing as he did, a cut above the rest. What his associates managed to see in Grand was actually a reflection of their own dullness: a club-member, a dinner guest, a possibility, a threat\u2014a man whose holdings represented a prospect and a danger. But this was to do injustice to Grand\u2019s private life, because his private life was atypical<\/em>. For one thing, he was the last of the big spenders; and for another, he had a very unusual attitude towards people<\/em>\u2014he spent about ten millions a year in, as he expressed it himself, \u201cmaking it hot for them<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\nThis rather grandiose pastime had begun a few years previously, when he bought a large movie-house in Cleveland and made inserts into the first-run films shown there\u2014simple inserts: a quick cut to a groping hand, an eccentric grimace, a cryptic smile\u2014all professionally done and technically indiscernible from the rest of the film; they were usually of only split-second duration, but were unmistakably seen by anyone not half asleep. Very often these inserts had the effect of completely misplacing the emphasis and direction of the film. In a popular movie called \u201cMrs. Miniver,\u201d for example, there is a scene, quite early on, where the good school-master, Walter Pidgeon, is sitting quietly at his desk in his fire-lit study; he is writing in his journal about having that afternoon made the acquaintance of Mrs. Miniver, and he pauses momentarily from this to take a small knife from the desk and sharpen the pencil in his hand. In the original scene, the camera remains on his face, which is hopeful and meditative\u2014so that the intended emphasis of the scene is quite clear: his genteel and wistfully ambitious thoughts concerning Mrs. Miniver. Grand\u2019s insert, however, consisted of a cut, away from the face and down to the knife in his hand, holding on this for about two seconds. Given such emphasis, the fire-glint blade seemed to portend dire evil, though afterwards, of course, the film rolled on again, without further surprise or incongruity\u2014while high above the dark audience, locked in the projection booth, Grand Guy Grand stumbled from wall to wall almost choking with laughter.<\/p>\n
Later he might go down into the lobby and listen to the comments about the film from those leaving, and as often as not, he would join in himself:<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was that about the knife<\/em>?!?\u201d he would demand querulously, stalking around the lobby, striking his fist in his hand. \u201cHe had<\/em> that knife\u2014Christ, I thought he was going to kill<\/em> her! I don\u2019t get it!\u201d<\/p>\nSome of Grand\u2019s inserts, though, were a good deal more flagrant, and his cinema was eventually sued by several of the big studios; you can bet it cost him a pretty penny in the end to keep his own name clear.<\/p>\n
Leaving the great west door at Penn Station, Guy Grand\u2019s gait was brisk indeed, considering his girth\u2014small sharp steps, rising on the toes\u2014it was the gait of a man who appears to be snapping his fingers as he walks.<\/p>\n
Half a block on he reached the car, though he seemed to have a momentary difficulty in recognizing it; beneath the windshield-wiper lay a big parking-ticket, which Grand slowly withdrew, regarding it curiously.<\/p>\n
\u201cLooks like you\u2019ve got a ticket<\/em>, bub,\u201d said a voice somewhere behind him. Out of the corner of his eye Grand observed the man, in a dark summer suit, leaning idly against the side of the building nearest the car. There was something smug and terse in the tone of his remark, a sort of nasal piousness.<\/p>\n\u201cYes, so it seems,\u201d mused Grand without looking up, continuing to study the ticket in his hand. \u201cHow much will you eat it for?\u201d he asked then, raising a piercing smile at the man.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow\u2019s that, Mister?\u201d demanded the latter with a nasty frown, pushing himself forward a bit from the building.<\/p>\n
Grand cleared his throat, slowly taking out his wallet as he did\u2014a long slender wallet of such fine leather it would have been as limp as silk, had it not been so chock-full of thousands.<\/p>\n
\u201cI asked what would you take to eat<\/em> it? You know\u2026\u201d Wide-eyed, he made a great chewing motion with his mouth, holding the ticket near it.<\/p>\nThe man, flaring, took a tentative step forward.<\/p>\n
\u201cSay, I don\u2019t get<\/em> you, Mister!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cWell,\u201d drawled Grand, chuckling down at his wallet, browsing about in it, \u201csimple enough really\u2026\u201d he took out a few thou, \u201cI have this ticket, as you know, and I was just wondering if you would eat<\/em> it, for, say\u2026\u201d a quick glance to ascertain, \u201c\u2026six thousand dollars?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cWhat do you mean, \u2018eat<\/em> it\u2019?\u201d demanded the man in a kind of snarl. \u201cSay, what\u2019re you, anyway, bub, a wise<\/em> guy?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201c\u2018Wise<\/em>\u2019 guy of \u2018grand<\/em>\u2019 guy\u2014call me anything you like\u2026 as long as you don\u2019t call me a \u2018late-for-chow<\/em>\u2019! Eh? Ho-ho.\u201d Grand rounded off with a jolly chortle, but was quick to add, unsmiling: \u201cHow about it, pal\u2014got a taste for the easy green?\u201d<\/p>\nThe man, who now appeared to be openly angry, took another step forward.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen<\/em>, Mister\u2026\u201d he said in a threatening tone, half-clenching his fists.<\/p>\n\u201cI think I should warn you,\u201d said Grand quietly, raising one hand to his breast, \u201cthat I am armed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHuh<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\nThe man seemed momentarily dumbfounded, staring down in dull rage at the six bills in Grand\u2019s hand; then he partially recovered and cocked his head to one side, regarding Grand narrowly, in an attempt at shrewd skepticism, still heavily flavored with indignation.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust who do you think you are<\/em>, Mister?!? Just what is your game<\/em>!?!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cGrand\u2019s the name, easy-green\u2019s the game\u2014play along?\u201d<\/p>\n
He brusquely flicked the corners of the six bills, and they crackled with a brittle, compelling sound.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen<\/em>\u2026\u201d said the man, tight-lipped, flexing his fingers and exhaling several times in angry exasperation, \u201care you<\/em> trying\u2026 are you<\/em> trying to tell ME that you\u2019ll give me six thousand dollars<\/em>\u2026to\u2026to EAT that?!?\u201d he pointed stiffly at the ticket, \u201c\u2026to eat<\/em> that TICKET?!?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cThat\u2019s about the size of it,\u201d said Grand. He glanced at his watch. \u201cIts what you might call a \u2018limited offer\u2019\u2014expiring in, let\u2019s say one minute<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cListen, Mister,\u201d said the man between clenched teeth, \u201cif this is a gag, so help me<\/em>\u2026\u201d he shook his head to show how serious he was.<\/p>\n\u201cNo threats,\u201d Grand cautioned, \u201cor I\u2019ll shoot you in the temple\u2014well, what say? Forty-eight seconds left.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s see<\/em> that god-damn money!\u201d exclaimed the man, quite beside himself now, grabbing at the bills. <\/p>\nGrand allowed him to examine them as he continued to regard his watch. \u201cThirty-nine seconds remaining,\u201d he announced solemnly. \u201cShall I start the big count-down<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\nWithout waiting for the latter\u2019s reply, he stepped back and, cupping his hands like a megaphone, began dramatically intoning: \u201cTwenty-eight<\/em>\u2026twenty-seven<\/em>\u2026twenty-sex<\/em>\u2026\u201d while the man made several wildly gesticulated and incoherent remarks before seizing the ticket, ripping off a quarter of it with his teeth and beginning to chew.<\/p>\n\u201cStout fellow<\/em>!\u201d cried Grand warmly, breaking off the count-down to step forward and give the chap a hearty clap on the shoulder and hand him the six thousand.<\/p>\n\u201cYou needn\u2019t actually eat the ticket,\u201d he explained, \u201cI was just curious to see if you had your price.\u201d He gave a wink and a tolerant chuckle. \u201cMost of us have, I suppose. Eh? Hooho.\u201d<\/p>\n
And with a grand wave of his hand, he stepped inside his car and sped away, leaving the man in the dark summer suit standing on the sidewalk, starting after him, agog.<\/p>\n
Grand drove leisurely up the East River Drive\u2014to a large and fine old house in the Sixties, where he lived with his two elderly sister-aunts, Agnes and Esther Edwards.<\/p>\n
He found them in the drawing-room when he arrived.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere<\/em> you are, Guy!\u201d said Agnes Edwards with tart affection, she who at 86 was a year senior to Esther and held the initiative in most things between them.<\/p>\n\u201cGuy, Guy, Guy,\u201d exclaimed Esther happily in her turn, and with a really beautiful pink smile for him, but insisted then upon raising her teacup, so that all to be seen was her brown, softly clouded now as ever in maternal concern for the boy. Both women were terribly, chronically, troubled that Guy, at 52, was unmarried\u2014though perhaps each, in her way, would have fought against it.<\/p>\n
Guy beamed from the doorway, then crossed the room to kiss them before going to his big sofa-chair by the window where he always sat.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re just having tea, darling\u2014do<\/em>!\u201d insisted his Aunt Agnes with brittle passion, flourishing her little silver service-bell in a smart tinkle and presenting her half-upturned face for his kiss\u2014as though to receive it perfunctorily, but with eyelids closed and tremoring, one noticed, and her other very this hand, as in reflex, starting to rise towards their faces, wavering up, clenched white as the last lace at her wrists.<\/p>\n\u201cGuy, guy, guy<\/em>.\u201d Cried Esther again, sharpening her own gaity as she sat her cup down, quickly enough but with a care that gave her away.<\/p>\n\u201cYou will<\/em> take tea won\u2019t you, my Guy!\u201d said Agnes, and she conveyed it in a glace to the maid who\u2019d appeared.<\/p>\n\u201cLove some,\u201d said Guy Grand, giving his aunts such a smile of fanatic brightness that they both squirmed a bit. He was in good spirits now after his trip\u2014but soon enough, as the two women could attest, he would fall away from them, lapse in to mystery behind his great gray Financial Times<\/em>, for hours on end: distrait, they thought; never speaking, certainly answering, yes\u2014but most often in an odd and distant tone that told them nothing, nothing\u2026<\/p>\nGrand\u2019s work in cinema-management and film-editing apparently did not diminish his strong feeling of for the dramatic theatre, so that with the cultural ascension of television-drama he was all the more keen to get, as he put it, \u201cback on the boards<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cThere\u2019s no biz like show-biz,\u201d he liked to quip, \u201c\u2026oh, we have our ups and downs, sure<\/em>\u2014but I\u2019d trade one whiff of grease paint on opening night, by gosh, for all the darn chateaux in France!\u201d<\/p>\nThus did he enter the field, not nominally of course, but in effect. There was at this time a rather successful drama-hour on Sunday evening. \u201cOur Town Playhouse\u201d it was called and was devoted to serious fare; at least it was described to the viewers as being serious fare\u2014truth to tell thought, it was, by any civilized standard, the crassest sort of sham, cant, and weak-kneed pornography imaginable. Grand set about to interfere with it.<\/p>\n
His arrival on the scene was fairly propitious; the production in dress-rehearsal at that moment was called, \u201cAll Our Yesterdays<\/em>,\u201d a drama which, according to the sponsors, was to be, concerning certain emotions and view-points, more or less definitive<\/em>.<\/p>\nBeginning with this production, Grand made it a practice that he or his representatives contact the hero or heroine of each play, while it was still in rehearsal, and reach some sort of understanding about the final production. A million, tax-free, was generally sufficient.<\/p>\n
The arrangement between Grand and the leading actress of \u201cAll Our Yesterdays<\/em>\u201d was simplicity itself. During final production, that is to say, the Sunday night nation-wide presentation of the play, and at the top of her big end-of-the-second-act scene, the heroine suddenly turned away from the other players, approached the camera, and addressed the viewers, point-blank:<\/p>\n\u201cAnyone who would allow this slobbering pomp and drivel in his home has less sense and taste than the beasts of the field!\u201d<\/p>\n
Then she strode off the set.<\/p>\n
Half the remaining actors turned to stare after her in amazement, while the others sat frozen in their last attitudes. There was a frenzy of muffled whispers heard coming from off-stage\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the hell!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCue! Cue!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFade it! For Christ\u2019s sake, fade it!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\nThe there was a bit of a commotion before it was actually faded\u2014one of the supporting actors had been trained in Russian methods and thought he could improvise the rest of the play, about twelve minutes, so there were one or two odd lines spoken by him in this attempt before the scene jerkily faded to blackness. A short documentary about tarpon-fishing was pt on to fill out the balance of the hour.<\/p>\n
The only explanation was that the actress had been struck by temporary insanity; but, even so, front-office temper ran high.<\/p>\n
On the following Sunday, the production of \u201cMain Street<\/em>, U.S.A.\u201d took an unexpected turn while the leading actor, in the role of an amiable old physician, was in the midst of an emergency operation. His brow was knit in concern and high purpose, as the young nurse opposite watched his face for a sign.<\/p>\n\u201cDr. Lawrence,\u201d she said, \u201cdo you\u2026do you think you can save Dr. Chester\u2019s son?\u201d<\/p>\n
Without relaxing his features the Doctor smiled, a bit grimly it seemed, before raising his serious brown eyes to her own.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m afraid it isn\u2019t a question of saving him<\/em>, Miss Nurse\u2014I only wish it were\u2014it\u2019s a question of saving my dinner.\u201d<\/p>\nThe nurse evidenced a questioning look, just concealing the panic beneath it (for he had missed his cue!<\/em>) so, laying aside his instruments, he continued, as in explanation:<\/p>\n\u201cYes, you see, I really think if I speak one more line of this drivel I\u2019ll lose my dinner.\u201d He nodded gravely at the table, \u201c\u2026vomit right into that incision I\u2019ve made.\u201d He slowly drew off his rubber gloves, regarding the astonished nurse as he did with mild indignation.<\/p>\n
\u201cPerhaps that would be your<\/em> idea of a pleasant Sunday evening, Miss Nurse,\u201d he said reproachingly, \u201c\u2026sorry, it isn\u2019t<\/em> mine!\u201d And he turned and marched off the set.<\/p>\nBy the third time something like this happened, the producer and sponsor were very nearly out of their minds. Of course they suspected that a rival company was tampering with the productions, bribing the actors and so on. Security measures were taken, directors were fired one after the other, rehearsals were held behind locked doors, and there was an attempt to keep the actors under constant surveillance. But Grand always seemed to get in there somehow with the old convincer.<\/p>\n
In the aftermath, some of the actors paid the breach-of-contract fine of twenty-five or fifty thousand; others pleaded temporary insanity; still others gained a lot of publicity by taking a philosophic stand, saying that it was true and they had been overcome with nausea at such drivel, that they themselves were too sensitive and serious for it, had too much integrity, moral fiber, etc. With a million behind them, none seemed to lack adequate defense arrangements. Those who were kicked out of their union usually became producers.<\/p>\n
Meanwhile the show went on. People started turning in to see what new outrage would happen; it even appeared to have a sort of elusive comic appeal. It became the talk of the industry, scandalously so. And the rating soared\u2014but somehow it looked bad. Finally the bewildered producer and sponsor were put on the carpet before <\/p>\n
Mr. Harlan, the tall and distinguished head of the network.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen,\u201d he said to the sponsor as he paced about the spacious office, \u201cwe want your business, Mr. Levet, don\u2019t get me wrong\u2014but if your guys can\u2019t control that show of yours… well, I mean goddamn<\/em> it, what\u2019s going on over there?!?\u201d He turned to the producer now, who was a personal friend of his.<\/p>\n\u201c\u2026for Christ\u2019s sake, Max, can\u2019t you get together a show<\/em>, and put it on the way it\u2019s supposed to be without any somersaults\u2026 is that<\/em> so hard to do?\u2026 I mean we<\/em> can\u2019t have this sort of thing going on, you know that, Max, we simply cannot have<\/em>\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cListen, Al,\u201d said the producer, a short fat man who rose up and down on his toes, smiling, as he spoke, \u201cwe got the highest trendex in the books right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMax, goddamn it, I\u2019d have the FCC<\/em> down on my neck in another week\u2014you<\/em> can\u2019t schedule one kind of hour, have something go haywire everytime and fill out with something else\u2026 I mean what the hell<\/em> have you got over there, two<\/em> shows or one<\/em> for Christ\u2019s sake!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cWe got the top trendex in the biz, Al,\u201d said the producer, who was having to think very fast now.<\/p>\n
\u201cHell yes, you\u2019d have the top trendex if you put some hot broad up there pulling her snatch open too\u2014but there are some goddamn things that are against the law, Max, and that kind of stuff you had going out last week, that \u2018I pity the moron whose life is so empty he would look at this<\/em>,\u2019 and that kind of crap cannot go out over the air<\/em>! Don\u2019t you understand that? It\u2019s not me<\/em>, Max, you know that. I wouldn\u2019t give a good goddamn if you had a\u2026 a mule<\/em> up there throwing it to some hot broad, I only wish we could for Christ\u2019s sake\u2014but there is a question of lawful procedure, and<\/em>\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cHow about if it\u2019s \u2018healthy satire of the media,\u2019 Al?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026and\u2026what<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cWe got the top of the book, Al.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWait a minute\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe got it, Al.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWait a minute, Max, I\u2019m thinking for Christ\u2019s sake\u2026 \u2018healthy satire of the media\u2019\u2026 It\u2019s<\/em> an angle, Max, it\u2019s an angle. Jones might buy it\u2026 Jones at the FCC\u2026 if I could get to Jones first\u2026. He\u2019s stupid enough to buy it. Okay, it\u2019s an angle, Max\u2014that\u2019s all I can say right now\u2026it\u2019s an angle.\u201d<\/p>\nThe critics for the most part, after lambasting the first couple of shows as \u201cterrific boners,\u201d sat tight for a while, just to see which way the wind was going to blow, so to speak\u2014then, with the rating at a sky-rocket height, they began to suggest that it might be worth a peek.<\/p>\n
\u201cAn off-beat sleeper,\u201d one of them said, \u201cdon\u2019t miss it!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNew<\/em> comedy,\u201d said a second, \u201ca sophisticated take-off on the sentimental!\u201d<\/p>\nAnd another: \u201cHere\u2019s humor at its highest!\u201d<\/p>\n
All agreed in the end that it was healthy satire.<\/p>\n
After interfering with six or seven shows, Grad grew restive. \u201cI\u2019m pulling out,\u201d he said to himself, \u201cit may have been good money after bad all along.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was just as well perhaps, because at the point when the producer and sponsor became aware of what was responsible for their vast audience, they began consciously trying to shape each drama toward that moment of anomaly which had made the show famous. And somehow this seemed to spoil it. At any rate it very soon degenerated\u2014back to the same old tripe\u2014and, of course, it was soon back to the old ratings as well\u2026 which, as in the early, pre-Grand days, was al right, but nothing really to be too proud of\u2026<\/p>\n
\u201cGuy<\/em>\u2026\u201d Agnes Edwards began, turning her cup in her hand and forcing one of the warm playful frowns used by the extremely rich to show a degree of seriousness felt.<\/p>\n\u201cYes, Aunt Agnes,\u201d said Guy, unnecessarily, even brightly, actually coming forward a bit on his chair, not turning his own cup, but fingering it, politely nervous.<\/p>\n
\u201cGuy\u2026 I\u2019ve asked<\/em> Ginger Horton for today,\u201d she said, giving her nephew a clever look, \u201cand, well, I\u2019m hoping<\/em> you\u2019ll ask her to stay on for dinner!\u201d<\/p>\nGinger Horton was one of several women his aunts pretended to force on Guy; he hadn\u2019t seem much of her though since recommending her to his personal dentist, Dr. William Thorndike.<\/p>\n
\u201cSounds like fun,\u201d said Guy with a pleasant smile\u2026<\/p>\n
Grand made quite a splash in the spring of \u201957 when he entered the \u201cbig-car\u201d field with his sports-line of Black Devil Rockets<\/em>, a gigantic convertible. There were four models of the Rockets<\/em>, each with a different fanciful name, though, except for the color combination of the upholstery, all four cars were identical. The big convertible was scaled in the same proportions of an ordinary automobile, but was tremendous in size\u2014was, in fact, longer and wider than the largest Greyhound Bus in operation<\/em>.<\/p>\n\u201cThere\u2019s Power To Spare Under This Big Baby\u2019s Forty-Foot Hood!<\/em>\u201d was a sales claim that gained attention.
\nFronting the glittering crystal dash were two \u201cracing-cup\u201d seats with a distance of ten feet between them\u2014and the big \u201cGang\u2019s-All-Here\u201d seat in back would accommodate twelve varsity crewmen abreast in roomy comfort.<\/p>\n\u201cBuy Yourself One Whale<\/em> Of A Car, Buddy!\u201d read the giant ads. \u201cFrom Stem To Stern She\u2019s A Flat One-Hundred Feet, Buddy! Lady-Like Lines On A He-Man Hunk Of Car!\u201d<\/p>\nPerformance-figures were generally glossed over, but a number of 3-color billboards and full-page ads were headed: \u201cPerformance<\/em>? Ask the Fella Behind the Wheel!\u201d and featured, in apparently authentic testimonial, one of the Indianapolis speed kings behind the wheel of the mammouth convertible. A larger than average man, he was incredibly dwarfed by the colossal dimensions of the car. His tiny face, just visible at the top of the wheel, was split in a grin of insanity, like a toothpaste ad, a madman\u2019s laygh frozen at the nightmare peak of hilarity, and it was captioned:<\/p>\n\u201cGetting the feel of this big baby has been on real thrill, believe you me!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\nThe fur identical models were shown at a display room on 5th Avenue, and though considered to be out of the price-range of most people, were evidently sold. At any rate, on the last day of the exposition, they were driven away, out and into the streets of midtown Manhattan during the five o\u2019clock rush.<\/p>\n
Despite their roominess, power, and road-holding potential, the big cars proved wholly impractical in the city because their turning-arc\u2014for the ordinary 90-degree change of direction\u2014was greater than the distance between the street-angled buildings, so that by 5:30 all four of the sleek Devil Rockets<\/em> were wedged at angles across various intersections around Columbus Circle, each a barrier to thoroughfare in four directions, and causing quite a snarl indeed until cranes and derricks could be brought up from the East River to pry the big cars out.<\/p>\nCity authorities were quick to respond to the flood of protests and got an injunction to prevent Black Devil Rocket Corp. from further production.<\/p>\n
\u201cPersonally,\u201d said one high-ranking city official, in an off-the-record remark in defense of the court\u2019s ruling\u2014which was, after all, a rather flagrant infringement on the rights of free enterprise\u2014\u201c\u2026personally<\/em>, speaking for myself, I frankly think the car is an ugly car and a\u2026 pretentious<\/em> car, and, a experience has shown us, it is an impractical<\/em> car. I\u2019ll bet it\u2019s plenty expensive to run, too.\u201d<\/p>\nAt least account thought, Grand\u2014himself fairly well in the background\u2014was carrying on, pressing his fight to get the go-ahead and swing into full production with the big baby\u2026<\/p>\n
At that moment the maid stepped inside the door to announce the arrival of Mrs. Ginger Horton and was almost bowled over by an extremely fat lady, who entered the room wearing an enormous Trapeze sun-suit and carrying a Pekinese.<\/p>\n
\u201cGuy<\/em>!\u201d she cried, extending her hand as he, rising, came forward, \u201chow too<\/em> good to see you!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cSay \u2018Hello\u2019 to Guy<\/em>, my Bitsy!\u201d she shrieked gaily to the dog, pointing him at Guy and the others, \u201c\u2026say \u2018Hello\u2019 to everybody. There\u2019s Agnes and Esther, see<\/em> them, Bitsy?\u201d<\/p>\nThe dog yapped crossly instead, and ran at the nose. <\/p>\n
\u201cIs<\/em> Bitsy-witsy sicky?\u201d cooed Mrs. Horton, pouting now as she allowed Guy to slowly escort her towards a chair near the others, he maneuvering her across the room like a gigantic river-scow.<\/p>\n\u201cHmmm? Is my Bitsy sicky-wicky?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing too serious, I hope,\u201d said Grand with a solicitous frown. <\/p>\n
\u201cJust nerves I expect!\u201d said Mrs. Horton, turning arch now and fairly snapping. \u201cThe weather is just so\u2026 really abominable<\/em>, and then all the nasty little people about\u2026 Now here\u2019s your Agnes and Esther, Bitsy!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cHow very nice to see you, my dear,\u201d said the two elderly women, each laying thin fingers on her immense hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat an adorable little sun-suit! It was<\/em> kind of you to bring your Bitsy\u2014wasn\u2019t it, Guy?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cIt was extremely kind,\u201d said Guy, beaming as he retreated to his own great chair near the window\u2026<\/p>\n
Grand had upset the equilibrium of a rather posh Madison Avenue advertising agency, Jonathan Reynolds, Ltd.<\/em>, by secretly buying it, en passant<\/em> so to speak, and putting in as president a pygmy. <\/p>\nAt that time it was rare for a person of this skin-pigmentation or stature\u2014much the less both\u2014to hold down a top-power post in one of these swank agencies, and these two handicaps alone would have been difficult enough to overcome though perhaps could<\/em> have been overcome in due time had the chap shown a reasonable amount of savoir-faire<\/em> and general ability, or the promise of developing it. In this case however, Grand had apparently paid the man to behave in an eccentric manner\u2014to scurry about the offices like a squirrel and to chatter raucously in his native tongue. It was more than a nuisance.<\/p>\nAn account-executive, for example, might be entertaining an extremely important client in his own office, a little t\u00eate-\u00e0-t\u00eate of the very fist seriousness\u2014perhaps with an emissary of one of the soapflake-kings\u2014when the door would burst open and in would flu the president, scrambling across the room and under the desk, shrieking pure gibberish, and then out he\u2019s go again, scuttling crabwise over the carpet, teeth and eyes blazing.
\n\u201cWhat in God\u2019s name was that?\u201d the client would ask, looking slowly about, his face pocked with a terrible frown.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy, that\u2026 that\u2026\u201d but the a.e.<\/em> could not bring himself to tell, not after the first few times anyway. Evidently it was a matter of pride.<\/p>\nLater the a.e.<\/em> might run into one of his friends from another agency, and the friend would greet him:<\/p>\n\u201cSay, hear you\u2019ve got a new number-one over at J.R., Tommy\u2014what\u2019s the chap like?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, as a matter of face, Bert\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t mean the old boy\u2019s got you on the mat<\/em> already, Tommy? Ha-ha. That<\/em> what you\u2019re trying to say?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cNo, Bert, it\u2019s\u2026 well, I don\u2019t know, Bert, I just don\u2019t know<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\nIt was a matter of pride, of course. As against it, salaries had been given a fairly still boost, and<\/em> titles. If these dapper exec\u2019s were to go to another agency now, it would be to a considerable loss of dollars and cents. Most of the old-timers\u2014and the newer ones too, actually\u2014had what it took to stick it out there at J.R\u2026.<\/p>\n\u201cAnyone have any news of Bill Thorndike, by the way?\u201d he added matter of factly, as he sat down again.
\nGinger Horton banged her cup irately.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2026that damn nut<\/em>!\u201d she said, her cheeks puffing out like a great red frog\u2019s. \u201cNo, and I couldn\u2019t care less!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cWho<\/em>?\u201d asked Esther.<\/p>\n\u201cDr. William Thorndike,\u201d said Agnes, \u201cthat extraordinary dentist whom Ginger went to. He and Guy were friends at school together\u2014isn\u2019t that right, Guy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, quite good friends too,\u201d said Guy. \u201cPoor fellow, had a nervous breakdown or something from what Ginger says. I haven\u2019t seen him in the longest. How was he when you last saw him, Ginger?\u201d<\/p>\n
Grand had made this inquiry any number of times, and then had always glossed over Ginger\u2019s account of the incident, as though he could not fully take it in.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe last<\/em> time!?!\u201d she cried, \u201cwhy I only saw him once, of course\u2014on your<\/em> recommendation\u2014and once too often it was too! Good Lord, don\u2019t tell me you\u2019ve forgotten that<\/em> again? Why he was absolutely insane! He said to me: \u2018These molars are soft<\/em>, Mrs. Horton!\u2019 or some such ridiculous thing. \u2018We\u2019d<\/em> better get you onto a a soft-food regime right away!\u2019 he said, and then without another word about it, while I was still leaning back with my mouth open, he dropped a raw egg<\/em> into my mouth and rushed out of the room, waving his arms and yelling at the top of his voice! Raving mad!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cHmm\u2014not like Bill Thorndike,\u201d said Grand. \u201cFirst rate medical-man, he used to be. You never went back to him then?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI certainly did not!<\/em> I went straight to the nearest police-station, that\u2019s where I went! And reported him!\u201d<\/p>\nGrand frowned a look of mild disapproval.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m afraid that won\u2019t help Bill\u2019s standing with the Association any.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I should hope not<\/em>!\u201d said Ginger Horton as strongly as she could.<\/p>\n\u201cHow Uncle Edward used to love raw eggs!\u201d said Esther. \u201cDo you remember, Agnes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s hardly the same thing, Esther,\u201d said Agnes.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, he always had them with a sort of sauce<\/em>,\u201d Esther recalled. \u201cWorcestershire sauce, I suppose it was.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cIt could have been some new form of deficiency treatment, of course, Ginger,\u201d Agnes said\u2026 \u201cI mean if your molars were<\/em> soft\u2026\u201d But in the face of Ginger Horton\u2019s mounting exasperation, she broke off and turned to Guy, \u201c\u2026but what\u2019s your<\/em> feeling on it, Guy?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cBill always was<\/em> up-to-the-minute,\u201d Guy agreed. \u201cAlways on to the latest. Very progressive in school affairs, that sort of thing\u2014oh nothing disreputable, of course, but, I mean to say as far as being on to the newest thing in\u2026in dentistry-techniques, well, I\u2019m certainly confident that Bill\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n\u201cHe just plopped that raw egg right into my mouth!\u201d said Ginger shrilly. \u201cWhy I didn\u2019t even know what it was. And that isn\u2019t all\u2014the instruments, and everything<\/em> else were crazy. There was some kind of wooden paddle\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cSpatula?\u201d prompted Guy helpfully.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, not<\/em> a spatula! Good Heavens! A big wooden oar, about four-feet long, actually leaning up against a chair.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cSurely he doesn\u2019t use that?\u201d said Agnes.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut what on earth was it doing<\/em> there is what I want to know?\u201d demanded Ginger.<\/p>\n\u201cMaybe Bill\u2019s taken up boating,\u201d Guy offered, but then coughed to show the lameness of it, \u201c\u2026wasn\u2019t too keen at school as I remember. Tennis<\/em>, that was Bill\u2019s game\u2014damn good he was too\u2014on the varsity his last two years.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cI simply cannot<\/em> make you understand what an absolute madman he was,\u201d said Ginger Horton. \u201cThere was something else on the chair, too\u2014a pair of ice-tongs<\/em> it looked like!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cClamp, I suppose,\u201d murmured Grand.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2018Better safe than sorry, eh Mrs. Horton?<\/em>\u2019 he said to me like a perfect maniac, and then he said: \u2018Now I don\u2019t<\/em> want you to swallow this!\u2019 and he dropped a raw egg<\/em> in my mouth and rushed around the room, waving a lot of those weird instruments over his head, and then out the door, yelling at the top of his lungs<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cMay have been called out on emergency, you see,\u201d said Guy, \u201chappens all too often in that business from what I\u2019ve seen of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was<\/em> he saying when he left, Ginger?\u201d Agnes asked. <\/p>\n\u201cSaying<\/em>? He wasn\u2019t saying<\/em> anything. He was simply yelling. Yaahh! Yaahh! Yaahh!<\/em>\u2019 it sounded like.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cHow extraordinary,\u201d said Agnes.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot like Bill,\u201d said Guy, shaking his head, \u201cmust have been called out on an emergency, only thing I can make of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut surely the receptionist could have explained it all, my dear,\u201d said Agnes.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere was no<\/em> receptionist I tell you!\u201d said Ginger Horton irately. \u201cThere was no one but him<\/em>\u2014and a lot of fantastic instruments. And the chair was odd too! I\u2019m lucky to have gotten out of there alive!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cDid she swallow the egg?\u201d asked Esther.<\/p>\n
\u201cEsther, for Heaven\u2019s sake!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was that?\u201d asked Grand, who seemed not to have heard.<\/p>\n
\u201cEsther wanted to know if Ginger had swallowed<\/em> the egg,\u201d Agnes said.<\/p>\n\u201cCertainly not!\u201d said Ginger, \u201cI spat it right out! Not at first, of course; I was in a state of complete shock. \u2018I don\u2019t<\/em> want you to swallow this! he said when he dropped it in, the maniac, so I just sat there in a state of pure shock while he raced around the room, screaming like a madman!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cMaybe it wasn\u2019t an egg,\u201d suggested Esther.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat on earth do you mean?\u201d demanded Ginger, quite beside herself. \u201cIt certainly was an egg\u2014a raw egg! I tasted<\/em> it and saw<\/em> it, and some of the yellow got on my frock!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cAnd then you filed a complaint with the authorities?\u201d asked Agnes.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood Heavens, Agnes, I went straight to the police. Well, he could not be found! Disappeared without a trace. Raving mad!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBill Thorndike\u2019s no fool,\u201d said Grand loyally, \u201cI\u2019d stake my word on that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut why<\/em> did he disappear like that, Guy?\u201d asked Agnes.<\/p>\n\u201cMay have moved his offices to another part of the city, you see,\u201d Guy explained, \u201cor<\/em> out of the city altogether. I know Bill was awfully keen for the West Coast, as a matter of fact\u2014couldn\u2019t get enough of California! Went out there every chance he could.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Ginger Horton with considerable authority, \u201che is not anywhere<\/em> in this country. There is absolutely no trace of him.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cDon\u2019t tell me Bill\u2019s chucked the whole thing,\u201d said Grand reflectively, \u201cgiven it all up and gone off to Bermuda or somewhere.\u201d He gave a soft tolerant chuckle. \u201cWouldn\u2019t surprise me too much though at that. I know Bill was fond of fishing<\/em> too, come to think of it. Yes, fishing and tennis\u2014that was Bill Thorndike all right. As a matter of fact,\u201d getting out of his big chair again, \u201cI\u2019ll have to be pushing along myself, I\u2019m afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cGuy, I simply will not<\/em> hear of it,\u201d cried cross Agnes, snatching her glasses off her nose and fixing the man with a terrible frown. \u201cSurely you shall<\/em> stay for dinner!\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cGuy, Guy, Guy,\u201d keened Esther, wagging her dear gray head, \u201calways on the go.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, only wish I could<\/em> stay,\u201d agreed Guy sadly. \u201cBest push on though. Back to harness, back to grind.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cBut you just cannot go off like that, Guy,\u201d said Agnes, truly impatient with the boy now, \u201csurely you won\u2019t!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan<\/em> and must<\/em>, my dears,\u201d he explained, kissing them both. \u201cFlux, motion, growth, change\u2014these are your great life-principles. Best to keep pace while we can.\u201d<\/p>\nHe bent forward and took fat Ginger\u2019s hand in his own. \u201cYes, I\u2019ll be moving on, Ginger,\u201d he said with a warm smile for her, expansive now, perhaps in anticipation, \u201cpushing down to Canaveral and out Los Alamos way!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGood Heavens,\u201d said Agnes, \u201cin this dreadful heat? How silly!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAlways on the go,\u201d purred Esther.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s wise to keep abreast,\u201d said Guy seriously, \u201cI\u2019ll just nip down to Canaveral and see what\u2019s shaking on the space-scene, so to speak.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGuy<\/em>,\u201d said Ginger, squeezing his hand and sparkling up again on one monstrous surge of personality, \u201cit has<\/em> been fun!\u201d<\/p>\nGood-byes were her forte.<\/p>\n
Guy gave a courtly nod, before turning to go, in deference it seemed to her great beauty.<\/p>\n
\u201cAs ever, my dear,\u201d he whispered, and with a huskiness that made all the ladies tingle, \u201cit has been\u2026inspiring<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"In the Spring 1959 issue, readers were introduced to “grand Guy Grand,” a billionaire trickster who sows confusion wherever he goes. The story was adapted from Terry Southern’s novel The Magic Christian, published later that year. In the late sixties the novel was made into a movie starring Peter Sellers, and it continues (on the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[29],"tags":[238,30],"class_list":["post-1308","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-terry-southern-month","tag-billionaires","tag-terry-southern"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n
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