Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club, Book 14

by Robert P McAuley

  Bill tipped the furniture men a large five dollars each and the happy workers left at six in the evening. He went to the hotel, had a salmon dinner and then checked out. On his way home he stopped once again in the grocery store and purchased more groceries.

  Tonight I sleep in my own bed, he thought with a smile. Back in his place he lit the gaslight in the vestibule, one on each of the floors ending in his apartment where he lit them all. As much as he wished to light the fireplace it was still too warm for that. He pushed back the long ceiling-to-floor red velvet drapes in his den and looked out on Manhattan. While it was lit up it was nothing like the neon jungle that it would become. He saw the soft lights of the oil lamps attached to the wagons and admitted that they were nicer than the glare of automobile headlights. He opened the windows to allow the cool air to enter the room that had been closed for who knows how long and heard the clopping of horse footfalls and once again preferred them to the roar of bus, truck, motorcycle and automobile engines. The moon was almost full and he could make out the silhouettes of ships tied up at docks while others announced their coming or leaving with oil lamps tied to their masts, bow and rear. He could easily hear ship’s bells as they sounded the time of day.

  He opened the five-foot tall wooden icebox and was happily surprised to find that the furniture men had placed a small block of ice in it. He stocked it with the groceries he purchased then opened the top door and double-checked to see if he could estimate how long the ice would last. He decided that the tin lined ice section kept the ice cold for a nice amount of time. “Not bad. Probably won’t need ice for another day or two.” He had spotted a thin, tin tube inside the ice section at the top of the box, which ran down the back and ended just above a tin pan at the very bottom of the icebox. A drip line, he thought. As the ice melts the water drains from the top by way of the drip line and ends up in the drip pan at the bottom of the icebox. He knelt down and pulled out the tin drip pan to check the water level. There was hardly any water in it and he thought, I have to remember to check the drip pan at least once a day before the melting ice water overflows all over the floor.

  He opened the window and brought in the bottle of milk and apple pie. Bill remembered that the milk bottle of this time period had all of its cream at the top and had to be shaken to mix it. He did it as though he was mixing a cocktail and after a minute the cream was totally mixed in with the milk. He poured himself a drink and took a small slice of the pie and soon felt refreshed. He put the milk and pie in the cool icebox. Bill sat at the small round table that had its wings in the up position as he finished his milk. It’s not hot chocolate in my Donald Duck mug but it’ll have to do.

  He looked out the windows facing Brooklyn and wondered how his beagle Samson was doing. I’m sure Matt is taking good care of him but I miss the little fellow. Bill got up and opened one of the eight brown paper bags that he had not put away yet. He fished out a calendar with a picture of Central Park on the front and opened it to September and with a thumbtack hung it on the wall. I wonder how many pages I’m going to have to turn before the time portal is fixed? That is, he corrected himself, if it’s ever fixed. He checked his pocket watch and said, “Hey! I forgot to buy a grandfather clock. Well that’s on my to-do list.”

  He walked into the den. Warm out or not I must light that fireplace, he thought as he took a wooden match from the iron matchbox next to the mantle. Within five minutes he had a roaring fire going. After ten minutes he opened the rest of the windows. He glanced at the door in the rear of the room and thought, Man, wouldn’t it be nice to see Matt walk in right now. Bill took the key around his neck and tried to open it with no success. “Tomorrow I need to change that lock with one of my own.”

  He was restless and unable to stay in one room too long. He went into the bathroom and thought, Thank heavens that the bathtub delivery guy hooked up the water to the tub and sink. At least I’ll be able to take a bath. He ran the hot water in the sink and after three minutes it warmed up. He opened a stack of white towels that he hadn’t stored away yet, took one and then filled up the tub and sank slowly into the hot water. “Well thankfully the furnace does supply hot water. I wonder what year the club converted to oil heat?” He took his time and every ten minutes added more hot water. “What I need is some reading material. That’s another thing on my check list; go buy some books.”

  His wrinkled skin told him that his bath time was over. He dried himself and slipped into the white terrycloth robe he purchased and regretted not taking a pair of slippers. He went into the den and extinguished the oil lamp, went back to the bathroom and lowered that one to its minimum. He was full, bathed and tired so he went to his bedroom.

  Not bad, not bad, he thought as he looked around. I really need to have someone come in and remove that wallpaper. Maybe I’ll just have the room painted light blue like in my time. He smiled and sighed as he could see in his mind’s eye himself and Shirley wrapped in a bear skin rug lying on the floor between the foot of the bed and the fireplace. I have to see her. I really do, He stepped close to the pictures on the wall and shrugged as he thought, Don’t know why the furniture guy threw those pictures in for free. He must think that a bare wall is obscene or something. Oh well, they get the boot too.

  He slipped under the light blanket and once again missed the library from his time. Just another thing to do tomorrow.

  Bill was woken by the bright sunlight that streamed in through the long windows and for a moment he thought he smelled Matt’s coffee. Not today, my friend, he thought as he got out of bed. Not today and maybe not ever. He washed and said, “Number one task today: hook up a shower to the bathtub.”

  He made a list, got dressed and left the building. As he closed the door behind him he heard someone say, “Good day, sir. Have ya settled in?”

  He turned and saw the policeman walking his beat. “Good morning to you, sir. Yes I have. I’m just on my way to get some breakfast and do some shopping.”

  “Mind the traffic then. They drive them horses like cowboys in those dime novels.”

  ”Thanks and have a nice day.” He walked over to Broadway and suddenly felt very alive. Bill, you are back in the time you love so make every minute count.

  He entered Pearl’s Diner and a slim pretty dark haired girl of eighteen took his order. She returned with a soft-boiled egg, buttered toast and coffee. She smiled and stared a moment too long and Bill asked, “Is everything all right?”

  Suddenly flustered she said, “Oh, oh no. Please forgive me for staring, sir. It’s just that I could count on one hand the number of men I’ve seen without a mustache.”

  She’s right, thought Bill as he glanced around the diner. He was the only man out of the ten or twelve men in the place without a mustache. “Do you think that I should grow one?”

  “Oh no, sir. Why would one wish to look like every other man . . . I say be unique!”

  “Then unique I shall stay. And I truly thank you for I started to think that I should grow one to fit in.”

  “Fit in and disappear, I fear. Better to stay unique than mundane I say.”

  “Thank you for your advice.” He paid the bill and left her a dollar tip, which brought a big smile to her face.

  Bill hired a plumber to attach an overhead shower and curtain to his tub and then went downtown to Fourth Avenue between Union Square and Astor Place, which was known as ‘Book Row’. Store after store and small and large wagons and carts carried books both new and used.

  He walked away with a paper bag containing four books: The Scarlet Letter, Wuthering Heights, Little Women and Hamlet. He grinned happily, “This is the beginning of the huge library in the club.” At a newsstand he purchased a magazine that the owner was calling out as he waved it about, “New magazine! New magazine! Scribner’s Magazine, brand new. Get it here!”

  Bill picked it up and added it to his bag.

  He stopped in Goodman Brothers Clocks and purchased an 18th Century Georgian Mahogany Tall Case Clock, which
would be delivered the next day.

  Lunchtime found him in a small pub, The Crow’s Foot, eating sausage and rice and washing it down with a cool beer. When he stepped out of the bar he felt a chill in the air and knew it was time to buy something warmer than summer clothes. First he bought a pair of slippers then a suit, shirt, tie and a pair of black shoes, then a long black overcoat known as a Chesterfield shape with a short shoulder cape that can be detached. He also bought three black thick turtle neck sweaters and a pair of leather dress gloves. Spotting a line of black umbrellas he took one of them as well. Bill got to his place just as the plumber with his two helpers were leaving. He tipped them and went up to his bedroom to hang his clothes and put the new books in his small bookcase. He then sat in the alcove with a glass of wine and browsed through the new magazine.

  The publication contained many engravings by famous artists of the 19th century, as well as many famous authors of that time. It was also the first magazine to contain color illustrations. He read the first article, The Siege And Commune Of Paris by E.B. Washburne, Ex-Minister to France. He found it interesting, but not his taste. He put the magazine down and smiled as he realized that he was enjoying himself. Sure he missed his friends and he was positive that they were doing all they could to rescue him, but from what? This is what any member of the 1800 Club would do anything for: Live back in the 1800s! He certainly was grateful that he had brought along the three diamonds that was mandatory in case of something just as this happening. If he had to spend the rest of his life in this time he would do it as a rich man.

  Once again he opened his communicator and entered his password, SAMSON followed by MATT. ARE YOU THERE? BILL. He placed it on the windowsill where the sunlight recharged it.

  “Tonight we dine!” he said as he set out this evening’s outfit. It was a charcoal gray three-piece suit with four buttons that pulled the jacket tight to his middle not unlike the corset that women were forced to wear. The jacket’s breast pocket had a white silk handkerchief in it. The white shirt had a soft collar and a black ascot folded like a large floppy bow tie. He grinned as he remembered trying on the new style of men’s shoes as they had a high heel and extremely pointed toes. The pant’s cuffs draped slightly over the shoes, a style that only showed his thin gray socks when he sat down. Bill looked at the black bowler hat a few times before placing it on his head and accepting it. “Oh well, when in Rome do as the Romans do.”

  He went into the bathroom and saw the flowers the cleaning people had placed there. “Wow! They add a touch of class to the room. Maybe I should hire a cleaning woman?

  He took a shower and when the warm water started to run cool he quickly stepped out and got dry. He touched the hot water pipe coming up from the basement and it was cool. “Darn! I bet the darn fire in the furnace is out. I really need to remember to empty the ashes and feed it some coal.” He looked in the mirror mounted above the pedestal sink and said to his reflection, “Hey buddy! Wake up! Things are much different back in this time and you have no Matt to count on.” Still looking he thought, Boy do I have a new respect for Matt. He does so much at the club that is never recognized. He grabbed his bathrobe and slipped into his new slippers and trotted down to the basement.

  He lit an oil lamp and then opened the square iron furnace door . . . the interior was loaded with gray ash and the fire was almost out. He grabbed the small black shovel and a large tin can and started to remove the ash by the shovelful. Finally the small fire was alone in the furnace’s belly and Bill used the same shovel to add some coal to it. He nursed it back to a roar, closed the door and went upstairs. Tomorrow morning I have to put the ash can out for the trash collectors. He stopped, rubbed his chin and thought some more, Tomorrow? Heck I don’t even know if they pick up tomorrow or for that matter, when they pick up at all. Billy boy you have a lot of things to learn that we never went over in the club. His robe and hands were black and gray from the coal and ash. That’s another thing: where do I get my laundry done? He drained the water from the tub, refilled it with hot water and finally relaxed in it.

  One hour later Bill was dressed in his new outfit. He was going to try the communicator then said as he tossed it on the bed, “Forget it pal. Go and have a good night out in old New York City.”

  He exited the building by the front door and was happily surprised to see couples strolling the avenue arm in arm as children played hopscotch on the sidewalk. The streets were dotted with small pools of yellow circles on each corner and continued down each block as the light from the gas lamps gave them a place to play. Horse drawn carriages rolled by no faster than a walk as the owners took their families for a ride in the end of summer warmth. Although they disappeared into the darkness they left a tell-tale small circle of light on the cobblestone street from the swinging oil lamp they carried attached to their rear axles. He felt another warmth as total strangers tipped their hats to him and he of course returned the silent greeting. I miss Shirley, he thought as he passed so many pretty girls with their arms in the crook of their partner’s arm.

  He got a kick out of hearing a mother call out to her children from a third floor window, “You three kids get to sleep and if I catch any of you standing you come right back in for the night.” Bill had heard that warning many times when he was on a mission but now it seemed to hit home. He looked up and could make out the bottom of a stripped mattress on a fire escape and knew that she was telling her three kids that if they stood up they might fall down the three stories so if she caught them standing they would have to spend the hot night in the apartment rather than on the much cooler fire escape.

  Bill turned the corner of 14th Street and Ninth Avenue and saw his destination: The Homestead Steakhouse, one of the oldest restaurants in the city in his time. The door was opened by a tall middle-aged man in a red overcoat with brass buttons and red pants with a four-inch black stripe that ran up the pant’s leg. On his head was a red captain’s cap with gold trim around the edge.

  Bill stepped into the place and smiled as it looks exactly as it looked in his time. The entire place was made of highly polished mahogany and cherry wood. The long bar had a small group of business men and the downstairs dining room was illuminated by yellow tinted glass-enclosed oil lamps. Most of the tables were taken and the maitre d’ seated Bill near the corner. Each table had a single candle on it that reflected off of the silver cutlery, dishes, glassware and white linen tablecloth.

  Bill sat and a young waiter gave him a menu as he asked, “Something to drink, sir?”

  Bill nodded, “Yes. A glass of beer, please.” He walked off as Bill opened the menu. He remembered many of the selections from his time as they stuck with the proven.

  STEAKS AND CHOPS

  TRIO OF SAUCES BERNAISE—AU POIVRE—HORSERADISH

  OUR FINEST CENTER CUT SIRLOIN SEASONED WITH A SPECIAL BLEND OF HERBS AND SPICES

  NEW YORK SIRLOIN 18OZ

  NEW YORK SIRLOIN 14OZ

  SIRLOIN STEAK AU POIVRE 14OZ

  THE GOTHAM RIB STEAK ON THE BONE 24OZ

  PRIME FILET MIGNON ON THE BONE 19OZ

  PRIME FILET MIGNON ON THE BONE AU POIVRE 14OZ

  FILET MIGNON WRAPPED IN APPLEWOOD SMOKED BACON 10OZ SEASONED POTATO, BORDELAISE

  FILET MIGNON 10OZ

  SEASONED POTATO, BORDELAISE47

  FILET MIGNON FOR TWO YUKON POTATOES, CHEDDAR SPINACH, SOUR CREAM, ASIAN VEGETABLES

  PRIME RIB

  PRIME 40-DAY DRY AGED RIB STEAK ON THE BONE FOR TWO

  PRIME PORTERHOUSE STEAK FOR TWO

  The waiter returned with a tall glass of cold beer and Bill ordered the 18 oz. New York Sirloin, rare with a baked potato. The waiter walked away when the room was suddenly filled with laughter from someone at the door. The restaurant owner, a slim elderly man with a pencil-line thin black mustache almost flew to the entranceway.

  A very large man dressed in a tux with a cape and tall silk hat entered the room with the slim man leading. He sat him at a table near the rear an
d immediately one of the waiters took his hat, cape and walking stick while two others stood with paper and pencil at the ready. It was almost at the same time that Bill and the man recognized each other.

  “Bill!” he called out as Bill walked over to his table with outstretched hand to greet his old friend Diamond Jim Brady.

  “Jim! How are you?” They shook hands and Bill continued, “I haven’t seen you in at least a year. Is all well?”

  The big man slapped the top of the round table and answered, “All is well, now what about you, Billy?”

  “All is well.”

  “I insist that you eat with me.” He waved to one of the three waiters that stood near him, “Will you please bring his dinner to my table so we may dine together.”

  “Yes sir, and will you be ordering now?”

  The big man grinned. “You must be new here. Just tell the chef that Diamond Jim will have the usual. He’ll know.”

  Bill and Jim spent the next ten minutes catching up and when the waiter brought out Bill’s meal Jim laughed.

  “Billy Boy, ya still don’t know how ta dine. Best that you start to eat now as mine won’t be out a few minutes yet.”

  Five minutes later the three waiters started to bring out the dishes of food for the big man. One tray carried three dozen oysters, five soft shell crabs and all of the sauces he preferred. As they ate Bill couldn’t help but grin as another tray carried to the table held two bowls of green turtle soup. This was followed by six lobsters, two canvasback ducks and a double portion of terrapin.

  The conversation covered everything from jewelry to Broadway shows, which the big man invested in, the coming horseless carriage, which he couldn’t fit in, politics and women. He kept eating as they chatted and Bill finished his and watched as a sirloin steak appeared with three types of vegetables and finally a dessert that contained a platter of French pasties followed by two pounds of chocolate candies. During the entire meal Jim finished two gallons of orange juice with crushed ice. He finally sat back and with a pat on his stomach said, “Maybe I should not of had that cornbread after all.”