The Stars Shine Down (8 page)

H
oward Keller and Lara were having dinner.

“How do we get started?” Lara asked.

“First of all, we’re going to get you the best team money can buy. We’ll start out with a real estate lawyer to work out the contract with the Diamond brothers. Then we want to get you a top architect. I have someone in mind. After that, we want to hire a top construction company. I’ve done a little arithmetic of my own. The soft costs for the project will come to about three hundred thousand dollars a room. The cost of the hotel will be about seven million dollars. If we plan it right, it can work.”

The architect’s name was Ted Tuttle, and when he heard Lara’s plans, he grinned and said, “Bless you. I’ve been waiting for someone to come along with an idea like this.”

Ten working days later he had rendered his drawings. They were everything Lara had dreamed of.

“Originally the hotel had a hundred and twenty-five rooms,” the architect said. “As you can see, I’ve cut it down to seventy-five keys, as you’ve asked.”

In the drawing there were fifty suites and twenty-five deluxe rooms.

“It’s perfect,” Lara said.

Lara showed the plans to Howard Keller. He was equally enthusiastic.

“Let’s go to work. I’ve set up a meeting with a contractor. His name is Steve Rice.”

Steve Rice was one of the top contractors in Chicago. Lara liked him immediately. He was a rugged, no-nonsense, down-to-earth type.

Lara said, “Howard Keller tells me that you’re the best.”

“He’s right,” Rice said. “Our motto is ‘We build for posterity.’ ”

“That’s a good motto.”

Rice grinned. “I just made it up.”

The first step was to break down each element into a series of drawings. The drawings were sent to potential subcontractors: steel manufacturers, bricklayers, window companies, electrical contractors. All in all, more than sixty subcontractors were involved.

The day escrow closed, Howard Keller took the afternoon off to celebrate with Lara.

“Does the bank mind your taking this time off?” Lara asked.

“No,” Keller lied. “It’s part of my job.” The truth was that he was enjoying this more than he had enjoyed anything in years. He loved being with Lara: he loved talking to her, looking at her. He wondered how she felt about marriage.

Lara said, “I read this morning that they’ve almost completed
the Sears Tower. It’s a hundred and ten stories—the tallest building in the world.”

“That’s right,” Keller said.

Lara said gravely, “Someday I’m going to build a higher one, Howard.”

He believed her.

They were having lunch with Steve Rice at the Whitehall. “Tell me what happens next,” Lara asked.

“Well,” Rice said, “first we’re going to clean up the interior of the building. We’ll keep the marble. We’ll remove all the windows and gut the bathrooms. We’ll take out the electrical risers for the installation of the new electrical wiring and update the plumbing. When the demolition company is through, we’ll be ready to begin building your hotel.”

“How many people will be working on it?”

Rice laughed. “A mob, Miss Cameron. There’ll be a window team, a bathroom team, a corridor team. These teams work floor by floor, usually from the top floor down. The hotel is scheduled to have two restaurants, and you’ll have room service.”

“How long is all this going to take?”

“I would say—equipped and furnished—eighteen months.”

“I’ll give you a bonus if you finish it in a year,” Lara told him.

“Great. The Congressional should…”

“I’m changing the name. It’s going to be called the Cameron Palace.” Lara felt a thrill just saying the words. It was almost a sexual feeling. Her name was going to be on a building for all the world to see.

At six o’clock on a rainy September morning, the reconstruction of the hotel began. Lara was at the site eagerly
watching as the workmen trooped into the lobby and began to tear it apart.

To Lara’s surprise, Howard Keller appeared.

“You’re up early,” Lara said.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Keller grinned. “I have a feeling this is the beginning of something big.”

Twelve months later the Cameron Palace opened to rave reviews and land office business.

The architectural critic for the Chicago
Tribune
wrote, “Chicago finally has a hotel that lives up to the motto ‘Your home away from home!’ Lara Cameron is someone to keep an eye on…”

By the end of the first month the hotel was full and had a long waiting list.

Howard Keller was enthusiastic. “At this rate,” he said, “the hotel will be paid off in twelve years. That’s wonderful. We…”

“Not good enough,” Lara said. “I’m raising the rates.” She saw the expression on Keller’s face. “Don’t worry. They’ll pay it. Where else can they get two fireplaces, a sauna, and a grand piano?”

Two weeks after the Cameron Palace opened, Lara had a meeting with Bob Vance and Howard Keller.

“I found another great site for a hotel,” Lara said. “It’s going to be like the Cameron Palace, only bigger and better.”

Howard Keller grinned. “I’ll take a look at it.”

The site was perfect, but there was a problem.

“You’re too late,” the broker told Lara. “A developer named Steve Murchison was here this morning, and he made me an offer. He’s going to buy it.”

“How much did he offer?”

“Three million.”

“I’ll give you four. Draw up the papers.”

The broker blinked only once. “Right.”

Lara received a telephone call the following afternoon.

“Lara Cameron?”

“Yes.”

“This is Steve Murchison. I’m going to let it go this time, bitch, because I don’t think you know what the hell you’re doing. But in the future stay out of my way—you could get hurt.”

And the line went dead.

It was 1974, and momentous events were occurring around the world. President Nixon resigned to avoid impeachment, and Gerald Ford stepped into the White House. OPEC ended its oil embargo, and Isabel Perón became the president of Argentina. And in Chicago Lara started construction on her second hotel, the Chicago Cameron Plaza. It was completed eighteen months later, and it was an even bigger success than the Cameron Palace. There was no stopping Lara after that. As
Forbes
magazine was to write later, “Lara Cameron is a phenomenon. Her innovations are changing the concept of hotels. Miss Cameron has invaded the traditionally male turf of real estate developers and has proved that a woman can outshine them all.”

Lara received a telephone call from Charles Cohn.

“Congratulations,” he said. “I’m proud of you. I’ve never had a protégée before.”

“I’ve never had a mentor before. Without you, none of this would have happened.”

“You would have found a way,” Cohn said.

In 1975 the movie
Jaws
swept the country, and people stopped going into the ocean. The world population passed four billion, reduced by one when Teamster President James Hoffa disappeared. When Lara heard the four billion population figure, she said to Keller, “Do you have any idea how much housing that would require?”

He was not sure whether she was joking.

Over the next three years, two apartment buildings and a condominium were completed. “I want to put up an office building next,” Lara told Keller, “right in the heart of the Loop.”

“There’s an interesting piece of property coming on the market,” Keller told her. “If you like it, we’ll finance you.”

That afternoon they went to look at it. It was on the waterfront, in a choice location.

“What’s it going to cost?” Lara asked.

“I’ve done the numbers. It will come to a hundred and twenty million dollars.”

Lara swallowed. “That scares me.”

“Lara, in real estate the name of the game is to borrow.”

Other people’s money,
Lara thought. That’s what Bill Rogers had told her at the boardinghouse. All that seemed so long ago, and so much had happened since then.
And it’s only the beginning,
Lara thought.
It’s only the beginning.

“Some developers put up buildings with almost no cash of their own.”

“I’m listening.”

“The idea is to rent or resell the building for enough money to pay off the debt on it, and still have money left over to buy some more property with that cash, and borrow more money for another property. It’s an inverted pyramid—a real
estate pyramid—that you can build on a very small initial cash investment.”

“I understand,” Lara said.

“Of course, you have to be careful. The pyramid is built on paper—the mortgages. If anything goes wrong, if the profit from one investment fails to cover the debt on the next one, the pyramid can topple and bury you.”

“Right. How can I acquire the waterfront property?”

“We’ll set up a joint venture for you. I’ll talk to Vance about it. If it’s too big for our bank to handle, we’ll go to an insurance company or a savings and loan. You’ll take out a fifty-million-dollar mortgage loan. You’ll get their mortgage coupon rate—that would be five million and a ten percent rate, plus amortization on the mortgage—and they’ll be your partners. They’ll take the first ten percent of the earnings, but you’ll get your property, fully financed. You can get your cash repaid and keep one hundred percent of the depreciation, because financial institutions have no use for losses.”

Lara was listening, absorbing every word.

“Are you with me so far?”

“I’m with you.”

“In five or six years, after the building is leased, you sell it. If the property sells for seventy-five million, after you pay off the mortgage, you’ll net twelve and a half million dollars. Besides that, you’ll have a tax-sheltered earning stream of eight million in depreciation that you can use to reduce taxes on other income. All of this for a cash investment of ten million.”

“That’s fantastic!” Lara said.

Keller grinned. “The government wants you to make money.”

“How would
you
like to make some money, Howard? Some real money?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I want you to come to work for me.”

Keller was suddenly quiet. He knew he was facing one of the most important decisions of his life, and it had nothing to do with money. It was Lara. He had fallen in love with her. There had been one painful episode when he had tried to tell her. He had practiced his marriage proposal all night, and the following morning he had gone to her and stammered, “Lara, I love you,” and before he could say more, she had kissed him on the cheek and said, “I love you, too, Howard. Take a look at this new production schedule.” And he had not had the nerve to try again.

Now she was asking him to be her partner. He would be working near her every day, unable to touch her, unable to…

“Do you believe in me, Howard?”

“I’d be crazy not to, wouldn’t I?”

“I’ll pay you twice whatever you’re making now, and give you five percent of the company.”

“Can I…can I think about it?”

“There’s really nothing to think about, is there?”

He made his decision. “I guess not…partner.”

Lara gave him a hug. “That’s wonderful! You and I are going to build beautiful things. There are so many ugly buildings around. There’s no excuse for them. Every building should be a tribute to this city.”

He put his hand on her arm. “Don’t ever change, Lara.”

She looked at him hard.

“I won’t.”

T
he late 1970s were years of growth and change and excitement. In 1976 there was a successful Israeli raid on Entebbe, and Mao Zedong died, and James Earl Carter, Jr., was elected President of the United States.

Lara erected another office building.

In 1977 Charlie Chaplin died, and Elvis Presley temporarily died.

Lara built the largest shopping mall in Chicago.

In 1978 Reverend Jim Jones and 911 followers committed mass suicide in Guyana. The United States recognized Communist China, and the Panama Canal treaties were ratified.

Lara built a series of high-rise condominiums in Rogers Park.

In 1979 Israel and Egypt signed a peace treaty at Camp David, there was a nuclear accident at Three-Mile Island, and Muslim fundamentalists seized the United States Embassy in Iran.

Lara built a skyscraper and a glamorous resort and country club in Deerfield, north of Chicago.

Lara seldom went out socially, and when she did, she usually went to a club where jazz was played. She liked Andy’s, a club where the top jazz artists performed. She listened to Von Freeman, the great saxophonist, and Eric Schneider, and reed man Anthony Braxton, and Art Hodes at the piano.

Lara had no time to feel lonely. She spent every day with her family: the architects and the construction crew, the carpenters, the electricians and surveyors and plumbers. She was obsessed with the building she was putting up. Her stage was Chicago, and she was the star.

Her professional life was proceeding beyond her wildest dreams, but she had no personal life. Her experience with Sean MacAllister had soured her on sexual relationships, and she never met anyone she was interested in seeing for more than an evening or two. In the back of Lara’s mind was an elusive image, someone she had once met and wanted to meet again. But she could never seem to capture it. For a fleeting moment she would recall it, and then it was gone.

There were plenty of suitors. They ranged from business executives to oilmen to poets, and even included some of her employees. Lara was pleasant to all of the men, but she never permitted any relationship to go further than a good-night handshake at the door.

But then Lara found herself attracted to Pete Ryan, the head foreman on one of Lara’s building jobs, a handsome, strapping young man with an Irish brogue and a quick smile, and Lara started visiting the project Ryan was working on more and more often. They would talk about construction problems, but underneath they were both aware that they were speaking about other things.

“Are you going to have dinner with me?” Ryan asked. The word “dinner” was stretched out slowly.

Lara felt her heart give a little jump. “Yes.”

Ryan picked Lara up at her apartment, but they never got to dinner. “My God, you’re a lovely thing,” he said. And his strong arms went around her.

She was ready for him. Their foreplay had been going on for months. Ryan picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. They undressed together, quickly, urgently. He had a lean, hard build, and Lara had a quick mental picture of Sean MacAllister’s heavy, pudgy body. The next moment she was in bed and Ryan was on top of her, his hands and tongue all over her, and she cried aloud with the joy of what was happening to her.

When they were both spent, they lay in each other’s arms. “My God,” Ryan said softly, “you’re a bloody miracle.”

“So are you,” Lara whispered.

She could not remember when she had been so happy. Ryan was everything she wanted. He was intelligent and warm, and they understood each other, they spoke the same language.

Ryan squeezed her hand. “I’m starved.”

“So am I. I’ll make us some sandwiches.”

“Tomorrow night,” Ryan promised, “I’ll take you out for a proper dinner.”

Lara held him close. “It’s a date.”

The following morning Lara went to visit Ryan at the building site. She could see him high up on one of the steel girders, giving orders to his men. As Lara walked toward the work elevator, one of the workmen grinned at her. “Mornin’, Miss Cameron.” There was an odd note in his voice.

Another workman passed her and grinned. “Mornin’, Miss Cameron.”

Two other workmen were leering at her. “Morning, boss.”

Lara looked around. Other workmen were watching her, all smirking. Lara’s face turned red. She stepped into the work elevator and rode up to the level where Ryan was. As she stepped out, Ryan saw her and smiled.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Ryan said. “What time is dinner tonight?”

“You’ll starve first,” Lara said fiercely. “You’re fired.”

Every building Lara put up was a challenge. She erected small office buildings with floor spaces of five thousand square feet, and large office buildings and hotels. But no matter what type of building it was, the most important thing to her was the location.

Bill Rogers had been right.
Location, location, location.

Lara’s empire kept expanding. She was beginning to get recognition from the city fathers and from the press and the public. She was a glamorous figure, and when she went to charity events or to the opera or a museum, photographers were always eager to take her picture. She began to appear in the media more and more often. All her buildings were successes, and still she was not satisfied. It was as though she were waiting for something wonderful to happen to her, waiting for a door to open, waiting to be touched by some unknown magic.

Keller was puzzled. “What do you want, Lara?”

“More.”

And it was all he could get out of her.

One day Lara said to Keller, “Howard, do you know how much we’re paying every month for janitors and linen service and window washers?”

“It goes with the territory,” Keller said.

“Then let’s buy the territory.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re going to start a subsidiary. We’ll supply those services to ourselves and to other builders.”

The idea was a success from the beginning. The profits kept pouring in.

It seemed to Keller that Lara had built an emotional wall around herself. He was closer to her than anyone else, and yet Lara never spoke to him about her family or her background. It was as though she had emerged full blown out of the mists of nowhere. In the beginning Keller had been Lara’s mentor, teaching her and guiding her, but now Lara made all the decisions alone. The pupil had outgrown the teacher.

Lara let nothing stand in her way. She was becoming an irresistible force, and there was no stopping her. She was a perfectionist. She knew what she wanted and insisted on getting it.

At first some of the workmen tried to take advantage of her. They had never worked for a woman before, and the idea amused them. They were in for a shock. When Lara caught one of the foremen pencil-whipping—signing off for work that had not been done—she called him in front of the crew and fired him. She was at the building site every morning. The crew would arrive at six o’clock and find Lara already there, waiting for them. There was rampant sexism. The men would wait until Lara was in earshot and exchange lewd jokes.

“Did you hear about the talking pussy at the farm? It fell in love with a cock and…”

“So the little girl said, ‘Can you get pregnant swallowing a man’s seed?’ And her mama said, ‘No. From that, darling, you get jewelry…’ ”

There were some overt gestures. Occasionally one of the
workmen passing Lara would “accidentally” brush his arm across her breasts or press against her bottom.

“Oops, sorry.”

“No problem,” Lara said. “Pick up your check and get out of here.”

Their amusement eventually began to change to respect.

One day, when Lara was driving along Kedzie Avenue with Howard Keller, she came to a block filled with small shops. She stopped the car.

“This block is being wasted,” Lara said. “There should be a high rise here. These little shops can’t bring much of an income.”

“Yeah, but the problem is, you’d have to persuade every one of these tenants to sell out,” Keller said. “Some of them may not want to.”

“We can buy them out,” Lara declared.

“Lara, if even one tenant refuses to sell, you could be stuck for a bundle. You’ll have bought a lot of little shops you don’t want and you won’t be able to put up your building. And if the tenants get wind that a big high rise is going up here, they’ll hold you up.”

“We won’t let them know what we’re doing,” Lara said. She was beginning to get excited. “We’ll have different people approach the owners of the shops.”

“I’ve been through this before,” Keller warned. “If word leaks out, they’re going to gouge you for every penny they can get.”

“Then we’ll have to be careful. Let’s get an option on the property.”

The block on Kedzie Avenue consisted of more than a dozen small stores and shops. There was a bakery, a hardware store, a barbershop, a clothing store, a butcher, a tailor, a
drugstore, a stationery store, a coffee shop, and a variety of other businesses.

“Don’t forget the risk,” Keller warned Lara. “If there’s one holdout, you’ve lost all the money you’ve put in to buy those businesses.”

“Don’t worry,” Lara said. “I’ll handle it.”

A week later a stranger walked into the two-chair barbershop. The barber was reading a magazine. As the door opened, he looked up and nodded. “Can I help you, sir? Haircut?”

The stranger smiled. “No,” he said. “I just arrived in town. I had a barbershop in New Jersey, but my wife wanted to move here to be near her mother. I’m looking for a shop I can buy.”

“This is the only barbershop in the neighborhood,” the barber said. “It’s not for sale.”

The stranger smiled. “When you come right down to it, everything’s for sale, isn’t it? At the right price, of course. What’s this shop worth—about fifty, sixty thousand dollars?”

“Something like that,” the barber admitted.

“I really am anxious to have my own shop again. I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you seventy-five thousand dollars for this place.”

“No, I couldn’t think of selling it.”

“A hundred.”

“Really, mister, I don’t…”

“And you can take all the equipment with you.”

The barber was staring at him. “You’ll give me a hundred thousand and let me take the barber chairs and the rest of the equipment?"

“That’s right. I have my own equipment.”

“Can I think about it? I’ll have to talk to my wife.”

“Sure. I’ll drop back tomorrow.”

Two days later the barbershop was acquired.

“That’s one down,” Lara said.

The bakery was next. It was a small family bakery owned by a husband and wife. The ovens in the back room permeated the store with the smell of fresh bread. A woman was talking to one of the owners.

“My husband died and left me his insurance money. We had a bakery in Florida. I’ve been looking for a place just like this. I’d like to buy it.”

“It’s a comfortable living,” the owner said. “My wife and I have never thought about selling.”

“If you
were
interested in selling, how much would you want?”

The owner shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Would you say the bakery’s worth sixty thousand dollars?”

“Oh, at least seventy-five,” the owner said.

“I’ll tell you what,” the woman said. “I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars for it.”

The owner stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

The next morning Lara said, “That’s two down.”

The rest of the deals went just as smoothly. They had a dozen men and women going around impersonating tailors, bakers, pharmacists, and butchers. Over the period of the next six months Lara bought out the stores, then hired people to come in and run the different operations. The architects had already started to draw up plans for the high rise.

Lara was studying the latest reports. “It looks like we’ve done it,” she told Keller.

“I’m afraid we have a problem.”

“Why? The only one left is the coffee shop.”

“That’s our problem. He’s there on a five-year lease, but he won’t give up the lease.”

“Offer him more money…”

“He says he won’t give it up at any price.” Lara was staring at him. “Does he know about the high rise going up?”

“No.”

“All right. I’ll go talk to him. Don’t worry, he’ll get out. Find out who owns the building he’s in.”

The following morning Lara paid a visit to the site. Haley’s Coffee Shop was at the far end of the southwest corner of the block. The shop was small, with half a dozen stools along the counter and four booths. A man Lara presumed to be the proprietor was behind the counter. He appeared to be in his late sixties.

Lara sat down at a booth.

“Morning,” the man said pleasantly. “What can I bring you?”

“Orange juice and coffee, please.”

“Coming up.”

She watched him squeeze some fresh orange juice.

“My waitress didn’t show up today. Good help’s hard to get these days.” He poured the coffee and came from behind the counter. He was in a wheelchair. He had no legs. Lara watched silently as he brought the coffee and orange juice to the table.

“Thank you,” Lara said. She looked around. “Nice place you have here.”

“Yep. I like it.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Ten years.”

“Did you ever think of retiring?”

He shook his head. “You’re the second person who asked me that this week. No, I’ll never retire.”

“Maybe they didn’t offer you enough money,” Lara suggested.

“It has nothing to do with money, miss. Before I came here, I spent two years in a veterans hospital. No friends. Not much point to life. And then someone talked me into leasing this place.” He smiled. “It changed my whole life. All the people in the neighborhood drop in here. They’ve become my friends, almost like my family. It’s given me a reason for living.” He shook his head. “No. Money has nothing to do with it. Can I bring you more coffee?”

Lara was in a meeting with Howard Keller and the architect. “We don’t even have to buy out his lease,” Keller was saying. “I just talked to the landlord. There’s a forfeiture clause if the coffee shop doesn’t gross a certain amount each month. For the last few months he’s been under that gross, so we can close him out.”