Of Prophets, Saints and Sinners - 6. Chapter 6: A Flour-Sack Kiss and the Grand Opening

Chapter 6: A Flour-Sack Kiss and the Grand Opening

Most souls in the House of Refuge were settled, if not asleep, by eleven o'clock at night, but two boys were required to work.

A bit of dusty 'snow' hovered in the air as Felix Yeager and Hampden Cox labored, dutifully grinding flour for tomorrow's baking needs.

A furtive glance from Felix told him the guard was napping, propped back on two legs of his chair, his head leaning against the wall.

"Did you know, Hampy, Miss Waverly will be late tomorrow?"

"On a Monday? Why's that?"

"Barr's is having a grand opening in a new building, and she's been invited to attend."

"You don’t say? Seems the world goes on without us, huh, Felix."

"Don’t be downhearted; we'll get out of here, soon."

There was a bit of flour on Hampden's cheek, so Felix used his thumb to wipe it off. Felix had always been attracted to the younger boy's looks: rounded features, a full face, dark emotive eyes, and rich brown hair which Hampden liked to leave long on top and short on the sides – when not shaven close by the institution.

"I miss your hair, Hampy."

"My what? Oh, you mean since they cut it all off – "

"Yeah. I look forward to you growing it out again."

Hampden was tall and strong; a few good inches taller than Felix, and one or two under six feet; and the younger lad was about 175 pounds of muscle and tension, which he acquired by toting 6x6's all day long at his lumberyard job. When they first met, Hampy told Felix he'd worked there since age eight, which pretty much matched Felix's start at the pie shop at age nine. Nowadays Hampy was a bit of a bull in a china shop, and Felix knew the other boy wondered why the powers-that-be put him in the bakery in the first place. But what his younger, burlier companion did not know was how Felix had to 'grease the axel' now and then with the master baker to keep Hampden in the kitchens with him.

They shook the flour bag in unison to tamp down the contents.

Hampden glanced nervously at the sleeping guard. "I'm not so sure about your cousin."

"Why?"

"I fear he might rat on us."

"He won't. He may decide not to help, but he won't get us in trouble."

"I'm not so sure – "

"Look, he's from the streets, like you and me. He's good."

"If you say so."

"I know so, and even if Monk says it's too risky for him, we'll figure a way out on our own. I know we will."

"Well, I have faith in you, Felix."

The older boy's heart swelled with pride. "And I have faith in you, and Miss Waverly too. She'll twist Monk's arm as much as she can."

Hampden depressed the lever and turned the machinery off. The quern gradually came to a halt.

The silence roused the guard, so Felix and Hampden stitched up the sack without further discourse. Hampy lifted it up to his shoulder and took the bag over to the pile of others.

Plop! Down it went and raised up a bit more 'snow' for the air to swirl.

Felix readied the next sack, and once his companion was back, the lever was released; the flour started to flow again.

In a minute or two, the warder was back to his dreamland.

"It's like that book," Hampden said softly. "We're like Dan-tees biding our time in prison, just needing that one lucky break."

"You're liking The Count of Monte Cristo, aren't you?"

"I like everything you read to me, but yeah, that book has a lot to say to me."

"We haven’t got to his escape yet, but I don’t think Papa Dumas would have an unhappy ending, do you?"

"You never know, Felix. If it's supposed to be like life, then you never know – "

"Don’t be down, Hampy. Please."

The younger boy was silent for a moment. When he finally returned his attention, Felix thought he saw melancholy mixed with something like nostalgia in the boy's rich brown eyes.

"Do you remember the first day, Felix? I do. The day I went to the shop with a nickel from my sister to buy pork pies and instead seeing an apron-wearing boy – one with light colored hair, and sapphire-blue eyes – bringing in a tray of pastry from the back."

"You do?"

"Oh, yes. You were wearing your white bandana as a cap, and you had a smudge of flour on your cheek."

"Yeah, I remember you hanging around, behind the shop."

"Had to. I had to meet you, so the back door seemed the best place to 'snag' you."

Felix chuckled. "I remember that first conversation was about baseball. You told me how some of the Browns hung out at your lumberyard after dark. I was intrigued, but had no idea what you meant."

"Yeah, I didn’t know you weren’t on the make. But that first day I told you to come with me and my pals to a show."

"That you did – 'To see the clog dancers, and half-naked ladies on stage.'"

"Did I…?" Hampden smiled and made it clear he recalled the exact wording as well.

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me you and your crew were gonna sneak in the back way."

"We always do," Hampy said matter-of-factly. "We sat up in the first balcony, where the ushers don’t go – that often – and hoot and holler and stomp our feet. We're perfect critics, wouldn't you say?"

Felix laughed, softly. "I'll say. I'd also say it's perfectly deafening when kids like us monopolize the grandstands."[1]

Hampden beamed with pride. "You sure know how to talk fancy, Felix."

The older boy shrugged. "Can't help it. Runs in the blood; look at Cousin Monk. He's made a career of 'fancy talk.'"

"Yeah."

"I also remember that first night we snuck into the Variety. You and your boys were hootin' and hollerin' so much the bouncer showed up and we had to run for it, him demanding money and all."

"Adventure! Too bad Dumas didn’t see it."

"Adventure. Running down a dark alley downtown, us two separated from the rest of your chums."

"Yes. Just you and me." Hampden was silent after saying that, but grinning.

"Yeah," Felix admitted with a sigh. "Adventure."

"And in the alley?"

"In the alley, it's the first time you held my hand and kissed me."

"Yes. I'll never forget it – that you let me."

"Of course I let you; I liked you right away. And I let you do anything you want, don’t I?"

Hampy blushed, glancing again to the guard who was still sound asleep. "Yes, Felix. We're a good team, me and you."

"I fell for you then, you know, during the chase, your hand pulling me, and then that quiet moment in the alleyway, your lips brushing mine."

"Ah, Felix."

They shook the filling sack.

"And you, Hampy? Was that when – when you knew?"

"No."

"No?!"

"It was a bit earlier. The moment I was waiting in line, with a nickel from my sister to buy pies, and out came this beautiful boy with a smudge of flour on his cheek. That's when I fell."

Felix knew he couldn't cry, but maybe he felt like it. Instead, his hand interrupted the stream of flour and smudged some on his own cheek. "Like this…?"

"Exactly…like…." He once more assessed the warder was not watching. "…This." Hampden leaned over the sack and kissed Felix with all the beauty of determined desperation.

"We'll have a future, Felix. I swear it."

Felix chuckled, stroking his partner's cheek for a moment. "Don’t you know it's a sin to swear?"

"It's never wrong to swear love."

"No. I guess you're right."

The sack was almost full. In a moment or two the silence would rouse the guard again, but Felix took Hamden's hand and stroked it where he held the bag. "It's never wrong."

˚˚˚˚˚

The late-September day was beautifully warm outside; an Indian summer before autumn asserted its natural will for change.

Thronging crowds of well-dressed people stopped to admire the rich show windows before going merrily into the Julia Building. There were sights to be seen everywhere inside: sales and giveaways on all five floors, over all five acres of showroom.[2]

Some visitors descended the grand central staircase to the deep and impressive basement with sightseer awe.

Electric twinkle down here, in the Special Promotions area, alighted on silk banners lining the walls like medieval heraldry. Many were fanciful marriages of bold-colored stripes, arms-bearing limbs and animals of various kinds. All the corporate members of The Mystical Order of the Veiled Prophet of the Enchanted Realm Association hung each other's banners on their business premises in the weeks leading up to the night of the VP's arrival. In addition to these were several of this year's official banner, which showed the operatic figure steering the ship of business atop a globe, his silk robes being buffeted by the winds of change, but staying unruffled. In the center of the globe, another image of the Veiled Prophet showed him in unmistakable Lohengrin fashion, guiding his numinous dragon ship though the fog and towards the light of peace and prosperity. The text under the images left no doubt of the organization's beneficent intentions: "Veiled Prophet, To Promote Civic Progress and the Advancement of all Mankind. Saint Louis, OCTOBER 5th, 1880."[3]

In the open space of the Special Promotions area resided the pièce de résistance of the entire grand opening, a half-scale model of Barr's float for the VP parade. At twenty feet long, and fifteen feet high, it was impressive on its own, but when the gathered crowd learned it was only a model representation of the real entry for the night of festivities, gasps of amazement were followed by quiet admiration.

Amongst those assembled was a distinguished looking older gentleman. A large carnation in his lapel, and smiling contentment on his visage, he hoisted up a beautiful little girl in his arms to see the float. She had been dressed wonderfully this morning by her mother for the special occasion in a white ruffle dress with a red bit of draping at the waistline. The ruffles of fabric went halfway up her neckline and flattered her face like a radiant flower.

"Can you see, Mina?"

"Yes, Grandpa."

"The central figure, the one on the mountain, is Lady Liberty. And do you see what's tucked under her arm…?"

"It looks like a building."

"It is, sweetheart. It's this very structure we are in right now; the Julia Building."

"And who are those other people?"

"They represent various industries paying tribute to Barr's. See the man with the pick? He's Mining; the one with the painter's palette is Art. There are also ones for Manufacturing, Agriculture, Forestry, Fishing, and Transportation, all offering their best wares for Liberty's inspection."

"Wonderful, Grandfather."

"Thank you, Mina. I agree. It's marvelous to see how the people love it."

The girl nodded. While he watched his granddaughter, a casual scan of the crowd behind her revealed Miss Waverly approaching them. He set the girl down.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jordan; Mina."

"Good afternoon to you, Miss Waverly."

"Oh, Mr. Jordan, it's all so beautifully amazing. Congratulations on the move – the whole city is talking about it."

"Yes, thanks in part to Monk McDonough's series of articles."

"Oh, I'm sure. The man is well respected and uses his pen judiciously."

Jordan smiled; perhaps a spark of hidden affection played about the smile he noted on her face at the moment she had said that. Her hand came up and fanned for a moment.

"It's a bit warm outside, is it not, Mina?"

"Yes, Miss Waverly, but nice in here."

The Sunday School teacher restored her attention to the department store man. "It's been an unusually mild September, and the crowds are in a merrymaking mood, that's certain."

Jordan gestured to a section of the Special Promotions area. "There are refreshments available for our visitors."

Waverly joked: "I'd expect nothing less from America's largest retailer."

"Yes. It's quite a proud day for every one of us in the Barr family. And we're hiring like mad."[4]

"And you, Miss Mina? Do you like what you see?" Waverly gestured to the model float.

The little girl nodded her head, shy all of a sudden, but evidently nonphased by all the grandeur around her; she knew no different.

Jordan chuckled. "Mina recited to me the story of Joseph and his brothers a short time ago. She knows it by heart, thanks to you."

"I really like your lessons, Miss Waverly."

"Thank you, Mina. All my students at Christ Church are good, but you, Mina dear, are extra attentive and bright."

The girl accepted the praise by nervously placing a finger or two in the mouth, her eyes growing wide and staying locked on her teacher.

"The float is very impressive, Mr. Jordan. The modeling is artistic in the extreme."

"Yes, the store has some fine German craftsmen."

"The upcoming parade and ball are going to be spectacular." She opened her small handbag and rooted around. "By the way, have you seen what Famous is doing?" She turned over a lithographed advertising card to Jordan. "They are touting their $3,000 wax figures from France."

He inspected the front. A pièce montée type of confection showed a rocky hillock surmounted by a round classical temple. A huge 'marble' statue of a goddess stood there, while smaller figures paraded up the hill to worship her. Horses with parade blankets bearing the store's name drove the float forward, while the fancifully inscribed text read: All Nations paying Tribute to Famous, the Greatest Ready-Made outfitters in the WORLD.[5]

The back was densely printed with information about how much the store paid to commission and import the figures directly from their Parisian workshops.

He handed the card back with a wryly-suppressed grin. "Yes, what one would expect from upstarts. But still, they've had impressive growth for a ten-year-old firm. I will give them that much."

Elizabeth Waverly deemed amusedly to let the subject drop, slipping the card out of sight again. 'Retailers' rivalry,' she thought. 'They might do better to join forces.'

Jordan turned to his granddaughter. "Are you thirsty?"

She nodded.

"All right. You stay right here. Miss Waverly and I will bring you back some refreshment."

"Yes," her teacher said. "Save our spots here at the front."

The young girl was proud to help out.

Jordan and Waverly strolled. "I'm impressed by the scale of this space, Mr. Jordan."

"The intent is to keep it resembling an exhibition hall as much as possible. We will use it for trade shows, special events and exhibitions. Also seasonal displays, like our millinery show before Easter."

"Easter bonnets. I can see it now; it will be beautiful."

"And, Christmas. We intend to make this year a memorable one for the citizens of Saint Louis, possibly for America too."

"Sounds exhilarating. Your organization does like challenges, do you not, Mr. Jordan?"

The man felt like laughing. The woman did not know he was tackling the holiday season 1880 as a personal favor to Mr. Barr, but it all amounted to the same burdensome load of effort either way.

"Also beautiful, Mr. Jordan, are all the electric lights. I don't think I've seen so many before in one spot."

"We're the first store in the world – that I know of – to be fully lit by artificial illumination."

They got in line for the bar. In a moment or too, Waverly saw people walking away from the concession stand with tall glasses. "Iced tea!"

"Yes, I suppose it's still a rather new thing, isn't it? It's also an inconvenient truth to realize it was invented on the premises of one of our competitors."

"Was it?"

"Back in '77, Scruggs, Vandervoort and Barney held a promotional tea fair during a warm September like this. One British vendor was having a devil of a time moving his merchandise, as few wanted to sample his piping hot tea. While he sat there and steeped in the heat of the day, inspiration struck. He paid a boy to run to the Planters Hotel and bring back a bucket of ice. He arranged chunks in glasses, poured his tepid brew over, sweetened it and served it up. In the next few days of the fair, everyone from the four corners of the tea world had tasted and enjoyed his invention. It may be our competitor's 'first,' but it brings glory to the whole city now."

"International glory," corrected Waverly with a smile. "As the gentleman was British, he no-doubt took his innovation home with him."

Jordan doffed his imaginary hat. "I stand corrected."

In a minute or two they had icy beverages of their own and were making their way back across the open space; the department store man quietly looked around.

"Congratulations, Mr. Jordan. You've done a marvelous job."

He debated a quick moment and decided to tell her. "Previously, when I mentioned Christmas preparations and you said 'challenges,' you did not know how close to the mark you hit."

"Oh?"

"Yes. My retirement is officially delayed. Mr. Barr has asked me to spearhead the efforts to turn this space into the largest holiday kingdom America has ever seen." He laughed outright. "So if you have any new ideas, please kindly share them with an old-timer like me."

She chuckled, saying, "The business men of Saint Louis know more about promotions and pageantry than any other in the nation. The Veiled Prophet parade and ball prove that, and I have no doubt inspiration will strike you."

"Yes. It's true about the glorious night of spectacle. As we speak, parade preparations are underway in every lumberyard north of downtown."

"Speaking of those, Mr. McDonough has come up with a concept."

Jordan was confused. "About lumberyards?"

"About the spirit of returning goodwill back to the community, and promoting charitable efforts on VP night."

"Oh. He has?"

"He will have to coordinate a detail or two before he can advance with the plans, but with my assistance, you can help as well…."

Jordan felt the make being put on him. He good-naturedly halted his step and awaited 'the pitch.'

"It's like this, Mr. Jordan, we appeal to the goodness of Barr's heart to lend a hand in a small way."

"More chalk? Pencils…?"

"Clothes."

"Clothes?"

"We've devised a charitable effort to promote the vocational value of the bakers-in-training at the House of Refuge. They will prepare a staggeringly wonderful supply of fine pastry and be at the ball to serve the guests themselves. It's so the men in the city, who may have need of such talented young bakers, may sample the goods in a party setting. These men may employ the boys later on, and benefit society generally."

"And Barr's comes in, how?"

"As a prominent member of the VP association…" she gestured vaguely to the company's silk heraldry hanging overhead "…we'd like to ask the store to provide the lads' serving uniforms. They will need monkey suits, sir, and obviously that is well beyond the means of the city's prison system to provide."

"Waiter outfits."

"Yes, sir. Will you help? There will be about ten boys."

Jordan thought for a moment, and then his sly smile reappeared. "I suppose the readers of the Globe-Democrat would be highly interested in reading about Barr's altruistic spirit, no doubt?"

"I would expect the readers to eat up the details, no pun intended."

"Yes. Bring me the lads' measurements as soon as possible and our tailors will accommodate."

She touched his arm. "Thank you. That's truly wonderful, Mr. Jordan." And then she said more shyly, "I will also require two gentlemen's sack suits, which I will pay for."

"Oh?"

"Yes. And two sets of tails as well."

Jordan puzzled over the cryptic nature of the clothing order, but smiled and said, "We'll cut you a deal, Miss Waverly. I feel you're part of the Barr family too."

She smiled. "Thank you, sir. You do not know how much good you are potentially doing. Now let's hope Monk can sway some heads as well."