Tell Them I'll Be There (30 page)

What would it cost, he wondered, to bring the regulars over from the Drummers and get them to gatecrash the party? The thought made him smile and his involuntary expression caught the eye of a girl nearby. ‘Hi,' she said. ‘You're new.'

‘To this place,' Dan said. ‘Yes.'

She laughed. ‘Pamela Peterson,' she said, holding out a slim, bejewelled hand. ‘The judge is my gran'pa.'

‘Dan Dolan,' Dan said. ‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Peterson.'

‘You can call me Pam,' she said. ‘Everyone else does.' She took his arm. ‘This is a cattle market,' she told him. ‘This is where up and coming young Democrats – the rich ones anyway – are invited to flaunt their egos and meet suitable young ladies. In other words, this is where they let the bulls loose on the cows.'

Dan glanced at her and caught the impish glint in her eyes.

‘Well, that's what it's all about,' she said, unrepentant. ‘See that big hunk of beef over there?' She pointed out a large,
red-faced
young man who appeared to be swapping stories with five equally libidinous-looking others. ‘I'm marrying that in a month's time.'

‘Good luck,' he said with a wry smile.

Pamela laughed at the implied hint that she was going to need it and she led him away to introduce him to some of her friends. He was here to socialize, he gathered, to meet people, and he began to realize that Jim Paley and the judge had plans for him.

The parties and social gatherings continued month after month and showed no sign of abating as the hard times came in though much of the talk was about the fallout and the
consequences
of what happened on Wall Street. The crash itself was not the main cause of the mess we're in, was the general consensus. There had been a serious downturn in business long before last October. But what happened then had undoubtedly accelerated the massive recession the country was now facing. 

As Dan drove out to one or another of those white mansions along the Sound in his almost new roadster, bought half price in what had become known as a ‘Crash' sale, he saw many hostile and defeated eyes turn to note his passing. He knew what poverty cloaked in resignation looked like. He had seen it sitting on front doorsteps at home in Ireland and it was sitting there now on the porches of the rundown houses dotted along the highway. To Dan these people suddenly looked older and thinner, though in reality they had not changed much. What had changed was that along the hedgerows there was now a
proliferation
of signs.
NO WORK. NO JOBS. NO HANDS NEEDED
. It was as if the new spring trees had sprouted dead brown leaves.

Yet, as he turned in at a long, well-kept lane that ran
alongside
a wide green lawn and came to a spacious parking place where an attendant in a dove-grey uniform guided him to an available slot, the stylish tinkling of a piano and the sound of laughter danced on the evening air. It seemed there were two worlds living side by side, the one getting by in a sullen silence, the other gracing these exclusive enclaves where there was still laughter and even some of the old gaiety, though the laughter was, perhaps, a little more muted and in quiet corners there were sometimes hushed whispers of suicides and ruined
millionaires
.

The truth was, as the lawyer Jim Paley insisted, there had been no more suicides in 1929 than in any other year. It was simply not true that people were throwing themselves from skyscrapers. But, as always, people chose to believe what they wanted to believe. True, there was great hardship nationwide, but most of the people who had always been rich were still rich and able, as before, to host their parties in their white mansions and make their periodic trips to Europe. As the song said,
The rich get richer and the poor get poorer
….

F
INGERS WERE POINTING
now at yesterday's heroes. Men who had presided over the dizzy climb in stock market prices were today's villains, in some cases their activities revealed as fraudulent. In 1930 an investigation into the
workings
of the Stock Exchange by a Senate committee began with a series of hearings that would go on for the next two years. The Banking and Currency committee, as the committee was called, soon unearthed evidence of greed, abuse of power and insider trading. The pools formed to boost prices to unjustifiably high levels, the bribes paid to financial journalists, the favourable stock deals given to men of influence – all were exposed.

The Senate prosecutor, Ferdinand Percora, said the committee's investigation had resulted in ‘a shocking disclosure of low standards in high places'. The chairman of National City Bank, the nation's largest bank, Charles E. Mitchell was
questioned
relentlessly about the selling of overpriced securities. The chairman of Chase National Bank, Albert Wiggin, was
questioned
about the way he promoted the bank's prospects and at the same time was secretly selling short his own holdings in Chase National.

Mitchell had authorized many dubious deals and, inevitably, as these disclosures were made public he resigned. He was arrested later on a charge of illegally evading taxes. After a long trial he was found innocent, but the impression remained that he was a man who had profiteered at the expense of his bank's many small investors.

When Albert Wiggin retired in 1932 he took with him a 
pension of $100,000 a year. This was at a time when retirement pensions were relatively rare and the number of jobless was growing daily. When the news of his enormous pay off leaked out there was a general outcry and he quietly agreed to
relinquish
his right to the pension.

After the Senate hearings new standards were drawn up for all who dealt in the stock market. A private syndicate, insider dealing or any kind of market manipulation was strictly forbidden. Michael Meehan who had promoted Radio stock with great success in the Twenties was now accused by the recently formed Securities and Exchange Commission of violating the new code of conduct. The SEC, as the new
commission
was known, was created to monitor trading practice and the information issued about the various stocks and bonds. Meehan was accused by the SEC of attempting to boost the price of a small aircraft company. Most traders thought he had done nothing wrong but the commission took this as an
opportunity
to expel him from trading on any American Stock Exchange. It was seen as his comeuppance for some
preconceived
notion of earlier misdemeanours but many believed his expulsion was unjustified.

Vice President of the New York Stock Exchange during his boss's long absence, Richard Whitney fared worst of all. Whitney was a poor investor. He had lost $2 million, money borrowed from his brother. To hide his losses he began to steal from his customers and in desperation he even stole money from a Stock Exchange fund. Exposed as a common criminal he was sentenced to three years in Sing Sing.

Years later when he visited the Stock Exchange, Groucho Marx stood on a chair in the public gallery and at the top of is voice started to sing
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling
. Traders on the floor stopped work to look up at the clown in the gallery. When told the police would be called if he didn't behave, Groucho shouted down, ‘Listen, you crooks, you cleaned me out of
two-fifty
grand in '29. For that kind of dough I'm entitled to sing.'

The awful reality of the financial disaster fully came home to Dan Dolan in the spring of 1931 as he walked in the early morning sun to his office on Madison Avenue. Groups of
disconsolate
, defeated men of all ages, moving around the city in a fruitless search for work had become a common sight in recent months. But now there was something else. A new, even more disturbing sight: bread lines. Grown men standing in line for a bowl of soup and a slice of bread.

Columbus Circle had the longest line, winding away block after block, an open truck with people on board ladling out hot soup from big cauldrons, others handing out chunks of bread. The Hearst Corporation provided that one and there were others where men waited patiently as the morning ticked by. And they were not all blue-collar workers, Dan noted. There were office managers, clerks, salesmen.

He felt like an intruder and an impostor. It was as though his smart jacket, his shiny shoes, the money in his pockets were an insult to the less fortunate. He stood still for a moment when he caught sight of himself in the dark window of a department store. He thought he knew what poverty was. He had been poor, very poor, but it had never been quite so bad as this. He had never had to stand in line for a slice of bread.

He moved on and as he turned off Fifth Avenue to cut through to Madison a young workman was standing on the sidewalk. Their eyes met briefly and for an instant Dan felt that this young fellow was about to approach him. But he didn't pause. He walked on. Then he saw this young fellow again, this time in his mind's eye. Flat cap, collarless shirt, work pants tied with string, a labourer's boots. It was himself he saw now. He had attempted to approach a well-dressed young gent once, simply to ask directions, but the man had looked straight through him and walked on. And that was exactly what he himself had done just now.

Dan came to a halt, turned and walked back. He wanted to give this young fellow a helping hand, a twenty-dollar bill maybe. He had looked as if he might be ‘just off the boat' with his honest, hopeful eyes bright with the promise of a fresh start 
and all that was new. But the young fellow was nowhere to be seen.

It was almost eight years since he and his brothers arrived, since they were just like that young fellow. But that was in the Twenties. Things were different now and it was not a good time to be coming off the boat. Yet the drunks and the dreamers at home would still be singing
Give my regards to Broadway
and
Tell them I'll be there
, filling impressionable young heads with the residue of their own broken dreams.

He would get Tim to write to Father Delaney, ask him to tell them not to come. There were no jobs and the bread lines were getting longer. But he knew they wouldn't listen. Back home this was America and America was still the promised land.

Lois was waiting for him as he ran up the stairs to the office. ‘You're going to a wedding,' she told him.

‘Lois,' Harry said reprovingly.

‘You getting married, Lois?' Dan asked.

‘Fine chance,' she said. ‘I'll get Mr Shaw, your friend Nathan. He knows what it's all about.'

Dan went into his office as Lois put the call through.

‘So you're getting married?' he said with a laugh. ‘Congratulations, and about time, too.'

‘It's not me, you dope,' Nathan said. ‘It's Michael. He's been trying to contact you.'

According to Nathan, Michael and Annie were planning to come up from Los Angeles in two weeks' time and whilst they were there they hoped to stay for a while and get married. They had not been able to come sooner because Michael had contracts to honour. He was doing OK as Johnny Roselli, making a name for himself in a small way out there on the coast, but he had big plans.

Nathan had not used him on the Italian record. He had found a genuine Italian. But he had an idea he might try a new
departure
with Michael. It would be a chance for the company to branch out. It would be his first shot at a fully commercial record, aimed at the market as a whole, Michael singing one of the great new ballads that had just come out or one that was 
just about to come out, the ballad on one side and Michael with a really swinging big band on the other.

He also wanted to put the record out under the name of Michael Dolan, stage a comeback for the singer many on the East Coast would still remember as ‘Everybody's Favourite Singer'. But he didn't know how Michael would feel about that.

First, though, there was the wedding. Annie wanted to be married in church and the suggestion was that Father Pat might be persuaded to perform the ceremony. Tim was still away and not yet qualified to solemnize marriages. In Tim's absence, Nathan said, Michael wanted Dan to make the necessary arrangements.

‘I'll call him,' Dan said. It was noon in New York, nine o'clock in the morning in Los Angeles. He spoke to Michael and later that day he went to see Father Pat. A long line of men, women and children were waiting patiently outside the church hall. Yet another bread line. Dan left the roadster two blocks away and walked back.

In the hall Father Pat and two elderly nuns were ladling hot soup and handing out bread. ‘I need to talk to you, Father,' Dan said.

‘And these little villains need their soup,' Father Pat said.

Two small boys aged about seven were looking up at him, their eyes wide, their mouths open, like little birds waiting to be fed.

One of the parishioners took over his ladle and Father Pat walked Dan back to the church where they sat on the bench outside.

‘So what can I do for you, Daniel?'

‘It's my brother, Father. Not Tim. My other brother. Michael.'

‘The crooner?'

Dan laughed. ‘Yeah. He wants to get married and we'd like you to do it, if you don't mind.'

‘Mind? Why should I mind? Good time to get married. Things can only get better.'

‘You think so, Father?' 

‘Sure, now they're locking up all the crooks. So who does he want to marry? A nice Catholic girl, I hope.'

‘Er … yeah,' Dan said, though he was not sure if Annie was a Catholic girl or not. ‘She's Italian. I suppose if they waited long enough Tim could do it. But they don't want to wait.'

Father Pat glanced at him. ‘Shotgun?'

‘No, no,' Dan said with a laugh, although he was not even sure about that. ‘There is one thing, Father, I think I should tell you.'

‘There often is, son,' Father Pat said. ‘So what's the problem?'

‘Well, Annie, that's Michael's girlfriend, she wants to get married in white and I'm to ask you if that would be all right.'

‘And why wouldn't it be?'

‘Well, they've been sort of living together for a year or two now, ever since O'Hara ran them out of town, in fact. She thinks it may not be acceptable.'

Father Pat shook his head. ‘Sure and the Lord is not
interested
in fashion, Daniel. He'll look at what's in the girl's heart and soul, not at what she's wearing.'

‘So it's OK?'

‘They must come to Confession, ask for forgiveness, both of them. And you can tell that Michael he's supposed to wait until he gets a licence.'

President Hoover was campaigning for a second term but the Democrats seemed unstoppable. Franklin D. Roosevelt was the man of the moment and the nation wanted a change. The crash could not have come at a worse time for Mr Hoover and, though he was not to blame for what happened, people were ready to blame anyone and everyone. The gloom of the Depression was deepening and getting deeper every day and, despite efforts in some Republican quarters to suppress it, the song most often played at that time, the song that spilled out of windows and doorways, the song that mirrored the general malaise was Yip Harburg's
Brother, can you spare a dime
?

The nation was gripped by an all pervasive gloom. Then in December, 1933, the Volstead Act was revoked, Prohibition was 
gone and for a little while the rush to drink and get drunk took over. But only until reality returned. There was really no money for booze and not much money for anything else.

The whole of New York City, it seemed, was Democrat now as Dan Dolan involuntarily put himself forward for one of the seats on the Manhattan Council. Asked at one of the Long Island parties for his views he surprised himself and the people he was with as, only slightly inebriated, he launched into a tirade at the way things were. ‘Empty pockets, empty plates, empty faces on our streets – we cannot allow this to go on. The nation must get back to work.'

He couldn't remember exactly what he said but whatever it was it met with nods of approval and even some mild applause. He was then backed into a corner by a distinguished-looking elderly man who urged him to run for office on the Upper West Side. He had everything going for him, Jim Paley told him later. He even had an office on Madison Avenue and a couple of willing helpers in Harry and Lois.

‘And a business to run,' Dan reminded him.

His main concern just then was Michael and Annie's wedding. It was all planned. The banns were read in the parish in Santa Monica the prospective bride and groom gave as their home base. Michael and Annie said they would arrive at Penn Station and Dan booked for them a suite at the Waldorf Astoria. It was his treat, he said when they protested at the expense. A wedding gift. But Annie said they would have their bridesmaid with them. Dan simply booked another room.

‘Is it Sue?' he asked Annie on the telephone, not knowing if Annie was aware he had once had something going with Sue.

‘No,' Annie said. ‘Sue's gone to Europe with the troupe.'

Dan was not sure if he was relieved or disappointed. At least, it was one possible complication out of the way. But nothing was ever straightforward with Michael. When Dan and Nathan arrived to greet the happy couple at Penn Station they were taken aback to see a baby boy standing between them, holding their hands and obviously theirs.

‘We wanted it to be a surprise,' Annie said with a laugh. 

Dan laughed. ‘It's that all right,' he said and he lifted the little boy high in the air as Michael introduced them.

‘Danny,' Michael said expansively, ‘this is your Uncle Dan. And this other wise guy is your Uncle Nathan.'