by Max Howell
Henry also found his social and business contacts were expanding, as the circle in which Muriel and her parents operated included the power brokers of Boston, indeed Massachusetts, society.
As for the shipping business, Mr. Hemingway was true to his word. For the first few vacations Henry was fully tested physically in various laborious duties, assisting in loading and unloading ships, moving all kinds of equipment, tasks generally requiring more brawn than brain.
It was not long, however, and with some relief to him personally that he eventually graduated to office work, and though at first he was again performing menial tasks like filing, it was not long before he was assisting various managers in turn with assigned tasks. He performed everything required of him, but his fertile mind was continually evaluating each section of the shipping company, and he was considering what theoretical management models that he had been learning during his MBA could be applicable to the company. He said nothing of the plan that was emerging in his mind, but soon secretly concluded that he could increase the efficiency of the company five-or even ten-fold. He knew that ultimately he would be rewarded with a position of some authority as Muriel’s father had been pleased with his progress, but until that happened he would keep his own counsel so that full credit would be given him when he presented his thoughts to Muriel’s father.
Muriel and Henry graduated in the same year, 1924, as Muriel had gone on to do a Master’s degree in American history and he had finished his MBA. He was now 26, and she was 24 years of age.
It was soon after their graduation in 1924 that they married, the wedding being one that Henry could not have dreamed of. It was held at the main Presbyterian Church in Boston, a famous Church where debates about freedom of religion had flourished in the early days. It was what may be described as a society wedding, the preparations and the actual marriage dominating the social pages of all Boston newspapers.
Because of the exalted position of the Hemingways the wedding presents were both numerous and expensive. There were sets of cutlery and dishes from the finest shops, paintings by some renowned artists, furniture and so on. Henry could scarcely believe it. Her parents bought them as a wedding present a magnificent five-room mansion, lavishly furnished, in the most fashionable area of the city.
When Muriel’s father spoke at the post-wedding banquet and ball, he announced that Henry was forthwith made a Director of the Shipping company he owned, and would be in charge of the Import and Export Section.
Henry’s own parents offered love and support, but his mother told him about Lin’s ring, Lin’s love ring, which she decided would be given Henry after five years if they were both still in love. He thanked her. He had never forgotten the beautiful Lin, who had been so vital a part of his upbringing, or the ring.
Their first evening together after the marriage was beyond their expectations, their bodies coming together naturally and easily, yet passionately. It meant all the more to them knowing that they had each kept themselves until this first evening. They held on to one another, expressing their undying love. They were the perfect match.
In seemingly no time Henry had revolutionised the company, applying modern management models and intense management training, and under the pressure of this young tycoon those who were older retired early, and others moved on. Soon the various sections of the company, now reduced because of a diminution of repetitious endeavours, were taken over by carefully selected, intelligent Harvard graduates who applied modern business methods to their own area of responsibility. He was soon made Acting Chairman, the President of the Company being his father-in-law.
The whole tenor of the company was changed, and despite a Depression that enveloped the United States and for that matter the world, the single ownership by Mr. Hemingway was influential in a profit increase rather than decrease. Whereas in 1924 there was only a profit of $300,000 annually, the profit of the company became twenty million by 1928, well beyond any of their dreams. In four years, in a profit sharing scheme suggested by his father-in-law, Henry was a multi-millionaire. He had done it – in four years. He was a mere 30 years of age.
Muriel’s time was taken up among the Country Club set and charities. Her life rotated around balls, tennis, swimming and golf, coupled with an occasional party at home thrown to impress her husband’s business associates. Their life was heralded by everyone as nigh on perfect, as the perfect match.
Henry became besotted with success, and it was not long before the shipping business was the most rewarding of Mr. Hemingway’s vast industrial empire. In his continual search for increased success, Henry visited the various capitals of the globe. His was a never-ending endeavour to increase their business interests, and with the increased acceptance of the automobile in the United States he foresaw the decline of oil in his own country and the need to obtain it elsewhere. He convinced the board on the necessity of purchasing oil tankers, and made the first deals with foreign interests to buy oil from them. Always he was the chief negotiator, arguing for increased volume and hence more profits. He became one of the wealthiest young businessmen in the United States, his name a household one in business quarters for his entrepreneurial activity.
He occasionally felt guilty about leaving Muriel at home so much but her own life and lifestyle seemed to be in perfect harmony, and whenever he returned home he was treated with unreserved and renewed love. The only wish not granted them was their seeming inability to have a child up to this point, but they were now both in their early thirties and time seemingly was still on their side. They showed no anxiety, both feeling the inevitability of a child coming to them in the future. His personal wealth increased by the month, and this had always been his goal, even obsession. He could not even remember when he last played the piano. He was completely caught up in the cycle of success.
He was in Paris on business in 1929 when he realized that he would have been married five years in less than two weeks, so he changed his business plans and decided to surprise his wife on their anniversary. He rang his mother to ask her about the jade and diamond ring, and she readily agreed to give it to him at last. He swore her to secrecy, as he wanted it to be a surprise for his wife. He felt it would be the perfect anniversary gift, a ring of love, one espousing undying, eternal love. Indeed, when he reflected on it, he was more in love with his wife than he had ever been, and never once, despite many opportunities, had he even considered a liaison with anyone else. He knew it was through her and her family that he had achieved such wealth and power.
So he caught a train and boat from Paris to London, then a ship from London to New York, and rail from New York to Boston, all timed to arrive on the morning of their anniversary in Boston.
His mother was waiting for him that morning, and she took off the ring and handed it to him, saying: “Henry, this ring is yours now and is to be treasured, because it was purchased by lovers and is meant for lovers. I have had it cleaned for you, and it looks more beautiful than when I first saw it. It is now for you and Muriel, to carry on the tradition of love that comes with it. Take it to her, and explain its significance to her. I have worn it, as our dear friend Lin did, as a symbol of love. I love you, my son, and my own love goes with you and the ring.”
He bent down and kissed his mother. He suddenly felt guilty once more, as it had been a long time since he had kissed her. The time had seemingly flown. He said: “Thank you, mother. I understand completely the significance of the ring, and I know Muriel will also.”
He called a taxi and was taken to his home. He arrived there about 11.30 a.m. Filled with love, he was tingling with excitement as he knew what Muriel’s reaction would be when he gave her the ring. He could afford a hundred rings more magnificent, but none would have such significance.
He quietly opened the door and looked around. Muriel was not in the living room, the library or the kitchen. He was disappointed, as he suddenly realised it was the time of day when she would be at the Country Club.
Tired and somewhat
deflated, he walked up the winding staircase, taking off his coat and tie. It had been a long trip, and he felt strangely exhausted.
He opened the door of their bedroom, and froze. Muriel was in bed with another man, one of his best friends!
It was as if his heart stopped beating, and everything seemed to have a hazy quality. She sat up and pulled herself away from the man she was in bed with. She said, with a shaking voice: “Henry, Henry, what are you doing here? You are supposed to be in Paris!”
He was speechless. There was nothing he could say. What he was witness to was beyond anything he could ever believe or visualise. Was it indeed all a dream?
His legs felt weak, and he half-staggered across the room. There was an open window. Without thinking, he reached into his pocket, grabbed the ring and threw it out of the window as far as he could.
With difficulty he made it back to the bedroom door and closed it behind him. Then in a flash it came to him, Lin’s story of the greedy boy who wanted more and more until he had nothing.
CHAPTER 3.
THE HAND OF FATE
Henry staggered down the winding staircase. He was in a complete daze. He cupped his head in his hands, a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind. He then became inconsolable, crying his heart out. He reached into his desk drawer. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. There was a revolver there. He picked it up. Life was no longer worth living. Like Lin’s story of the greedy boy, now everything he had was gone and meaningless.
He put the revolver to his head, his hand shaking. He was about to pull the trigger when he heard a faint knocking at the door. He replaced the revolver, walked towards the door, his legs still weak, and opened it.
He saw a young woman standing there. Everything was still somewhat in a haze. He stared blankly at her. There was a certain ethereal quality about the woman who faced him. She was tiny, with close-cropped hair and a slim body.
She looked at him, shirtless and tieless. He was pale, his eyes were red, he appeared completely distraught and disoriented. “Are you all right, sir?” she said, “you look ill, as if you are going to faint.”
“I’m all right”, he stammered, his voice shaking, “I’m all right. I just got a severe shock. What can I do for you, young lady?”
She said, proffering the ring: “I was just walking by, on the pavement in front of this house, and this ring hit me, actually hit me. It seemed to come from the upstairs room in this house, as if it were thrown by someone. It is obviously an expensive ring, so I thought I should return it. So here it is.” He took it from her, though somewhat reluctantly, and quickly shoved it into his pocket, wishing that it would just disappear.
She repeated. “Are you all right, sir? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I - I’m not at my best. I need some fresh air, I need to sort things out in my head. I - I know this sounds like an imposition, but would you mind if I walk with you for a time? A shocking tragedy has just occurred in my life, and I am thoroughly confused… and very sad. I need to gather my thoughts, yet I do not want to be alone. I will be very poor company, I’m sorry to say, but I would like someone with me at the moment.”
“It’s all right, sir, if that is what you wish, I would only be too happy.”
So they walked slowly down the street. She could tell he was no ordinary person by his manner of speaking, and she conjectured that he had to be associated with the mansion he came out of. She could see how pale he was, as if in a deep shock, and wondered to herself what had happened. He said it was a shocking tragedy. She thought it must have been a death or something as horrific as that, and she puzzled at why he would be without a tie and jacket, as a cold wind made its presence felt as they walked along. It was as if he did not notice it, but she pulled her own scarf closer around her neck. They kept walking aimlessly for over an hour, until she asked: “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
He nodded, and they went into the first restaurant they passed. She ordered two coffees, and when they came he spent most of the time fidgeting with his cup, deeply engrossed in his own thoughts. She thought again how sad he looked, how worried and concerned. Whatever had happened, it had completely drained him.
After a time, she said gently and quietly: “My name is Joanne… Joanne Waters.”
He sighed, and said: “Mine is Henry… Henry Luce.”
Henry Luce! Henry Luce was one of the wealthiest citizens of Boston, she realised immediately. He was always on the society and business pages of the newspapers. Henry Luce! He had everything in the world, was married to wealth. Yet he was obviously shattered, emotionally drained. What on earth could have happened? She knew instinctively that she could not probe, that he would tell her if and when he wanted to.
“I feel a bit of a fool, young lady”, he said remorsefully, “indeed a real fool. You have no idea who I am or what I do. I don’t know what else I can say, but I feel today is a turning point in my life, and I have to think carefully through everything until I figure out what it is I have to do. I know it doesn’t make much sense to you, but I feel better with you being here. I just do not want to be alone at this moment. Can you understand that? I crave company, to hear ordinary voices, to think ordinary thoughts. It will get my mind off everything.”
She nodded, and said quietly: “I understand, and I’m only too happy to sit with you, and walk with you. Don’t worry, everything is all right and I won’t press you for anything more.”
“My thanks, my sincere thanks”, he said gratefully, “I would just like to get my mind off things for a time. I would like to know more about yourself, for example.”
“Well, there’s really not much to tell. As I said beforehand my name is Joanne Waters. I’m a librarian. You know what they say about librarians, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t actually, and you don’t look like a librarian, whatever they’re supposed to look like.”
“I take that to be a compliment.”
“It is, but what do they say about librarians, I’m quite interested?”
“Actually they say they are rather boring, and they get all their life experiences out of books. What they cannot personally do they imagine through their reading. That is what they say. Maybe I fit in with the classic picture.”
“Well, I don’t know. You seem very nice and kind to me.” He simply wanted to hear her talk, so that his mind was transported from what he had just witnessed. Yet at the same time, the images kept surging back as he talked, and though he was listening to her he was at the same time reasoning about his own problems in his mind, and he had already come to some quite startling decisions with respect to his future life. He said, with obvious sincerity: “Please go on, I just like to hear you talking.”
“Another compliment, Mr. Luce, this is all too much. I cannot remember the last time someone asked me to keep talking, that they liked the sound of my voice.” They both smiled, and she could see a weight was being lifted from his shoulders. He was nowhere near back to normal, but it was a decided improvement.
“Well, Miss Waters, compliment or not, what you are saying relaxes me, and takes my mind off other matters.”
“Well, you asked for it, so don’t blame me. Or put another way, if it gets to be too much, just stop me any time. You know my name now. I graduated with a BA from Wellesley College, with a major in history.” He gulped, wondering whether she would know his wife. “Ever since I was a little girl”, she continued, “I was interested in the world at large and I read everything I could put my hands on. There never seemed enough time in the day for me. I would read and read and read, until my parents would come in and turn off my bedroom light. I always preferred histories of this and that, particularly when there were compelling stories associated with them.”
He interjected. “Name me the books you really like.” He felt his whole body coming back to normal listening to her. His hands had stopped shaking, he even felt the colour of his face returning. His knees no longer felt so weak.
“W
hat sort of things are my favourites? I won’t give you authors’ names, otherwise it would sound like a librarian’s reading list. I really like adventure stories, like Mutiny on the Bounty, which may not be entirely accurate, but it tells a story – three stories actually – in an all too realistic manner. I liked reading the biography of Sir Arthur Evans, and his discovery of the Minoan civilisation at the island of Crete. Heinrich Schliemann is another who has always intrigued me – he discovered ancient Troy and Mycenae, and found the famous jewels of Helen, which he proudly put on his wife. Then there is Charles Darwin, and his voyage on the Beagle, where he began formulating his theories of natural selection. Then there is also the magic of Easter Island, the voyages of Captain Cook in the Pacific and Robert Scott in the Antarctic. I could go on and on and on, from the excavations at ancient Ur to the reasonably recent discovery of Tutankhamen’s tomb, to the unearthing of ancient Pompeii. These are the books of my dreams, encompassing all those journeys I shall unfortunately never make. So maybe I am convincing you that a librarian is one who reads but never sees. Am I boring you?”
“No, you certainly are not. But in your short exposition, you have named so many things that I know virtually nothing about, and I am supposed to be a relatively well-educated person. I would love to know more about some of the people and places you have cited. So what is your job in the Library?”
“I’m actually in charge of Special Collections: early Boston and Massachusetts, original documents in the main, like diaries, photographs, drawings, paintings, the role of educators and education in the Massachusetts area. You would be amazed at the contribution in this region of so many educators in the past, and how their ideas influenced and set a standard for the whole country to follow. Just like Harvard and Yale as examples. They stand supreme in American University private education.”
