Tony arrived home four weeks later, and Kate was at the aiport to meet him. He looked fit and handsome, and Kate felt a surge of pride. "Hello, my love. How are you?" "I'm f-f-fine, M-m-mother. How are y-y-you?"
On his vacations at home, Tony eagerly looked forward to examining the new paintings his mother had acquired while he was away. He was awed by the masters, and enchanted by the French Impressionists: Monet, Renoir, Manet and Morisot. They evoked a magic world for Tony. He bought a set of paints and an easel and went to work. He thought his paintings were terrible, and he still refused to show them to anyone. How could they compare with the exquisite masterpieces?
Kate told him, "One day all these paintings will belong to you, darling."
The thought of it filled the thirteen-year-old boy with a sense of unease. His mother did not understand. They could never be truly his, because he had done nothing to earn them. He had a fierce determination somehow to earn his own way. He had ambivalent feelings about being away from his mother, for everything around her was always exciting. She was at the center of a whirlwind, giving orders, making incredible deals, taking him to exotic places, introducing him to interesting people. She was an awesome figure, and Tony was inordinately proud of her. He thought she was the most fascinating woman in the world. He felt guilty because it was only in her presence that he stuttered.
Kate had no idea how deeply her son was in awe of her until one day when he was home on vacation he asked, "M-m-mother, do you r-r-run the world?"
And she had laughed and said, "Of course not. What made you ask such a silly question?"
"All my f-friends at school talk about you. Boy, you're really s-something."
"I am something," Kate said. "I'm your mother."
Tony wanted more than anything in the world to please Kate. He knew how much the company meant to her, how much she planned on his running it one day, and he was filled with regret, because he knew he could not. That was not what he intended to do with his life.
When he tried to explain this to his mother, she would laugh, "Nonsense, Tony. You're much too young to know what you want to do with your future."
And he would begin to stammer.
The idea of being a painter excited Tony. To be able to capture beauty and freeze it for all eternity; that was something worthwhile. He wanted to go abroad and study in Paris, but he knew he would have to broach the subject to his mother very carefully.
They had wonderful times together. Kate was the chatelaine of vast estates. She had acquired homes in Palm Beach and South Carolina, and a stud farm in Kentucky, and she and Tony visited all of them during his vacations. They watched the America's Cup races in Newport, and when they were in New York, they had lunch at Delmonico's and tea at the Plaza and Sunday dinner at Luchow's. Kate was interested in horse racing, and her stable became one of the finest in the world. When one of Kate's horses was running and Tony was home from school, Kate would take him to the track with her. They would sit in her box and Tony would watch in wonder as his mother cheered until she was hoarse. He knew her excitement had nothing to do with money.
"It's winning, Tony. Remember that. Winning is what's important."
They had quiet, lazy times at Dark Harbor. They shopped at Pendleton and Coffin, and had ice-cream sodas at the Dark Harbor Shop. In summer they went sailing and hiking and visaed art galleries. In the winter there was skiing and skating and Heigh riding. They would sit in front of a fire in the large fire-place in the library, and Kate would tell her son all the old fam-ily stories about his grandfather and Banda, and about the baby shower Madam Agnes and her girls gave for Tony's grand-mother. It was a colorful family, a family to be proud of, to cherish.
"Kruger-Brent, Limited, will be yours one day, Tony. You'll run it and—"
"I d-don't want to r-run it, Mother. I'm not interested in big business or p-power."
And Kate exploded. "You bloody fool! What do you know about big business or power? Do you think I go around the world spreading evil? Hurting people? Do you think Kruger-Brent is some kind of ruthless money machine crushing anything that gets in its way? Well, let me tell you something, Son. It's the next best thing to Jesus Christ. We're the resurrection, Tony. We save lives by the hundreds of thousands. When we open a factory in a depressed community or country, those people can afford to build schools and libraries and churches, and give their children decent food and clothing and recreation facilities." She was breathing hard, carried away by her anger. "We build factories where people are hungry and out of work, and because of us they're able to live decent lives and hold up their heads. We become their saviors. Don't ever again let me hear you sneer at big business and power."
All Tony could say was, "I'm s-s-sorry, M-m-mother."
And he thought stubbornly: I'm going to be an artist.
When Tony was fifteen, Kate suggested he spend his summer vacation in South Africa. He had never been there. "I can't get away just now, Tony, but you'll find it a fascinating place. I'll make all the arrangements for you."
"I was s-sort of h-hoping to spend my vacation at Dark Harbor, M-mother."
"Next summer," Kate said firmly. "This summer I would like you to go to Johannesburg."
Kate carefully briefed the company superintendent in Johan-nesburg, and together they laid out an itinerary for Tony. Each day was planned with one objective in view: to make this trip as exciting as possible for Tony, to make him realize his future lay with the company.
Kate received a daily report about her son. He had been taken into one of the gold mines. He had spent two days in the dia-mond fields. He had been on a guided tour of the Kruger-Brent plants, and had gone on a safari in Kenya.
A few days before Tony's vacation ended, Kate telephoned the company manager in Johannesburg. "How is Tony getting along?"
"Oh, he's having a great time, Mrs. Blackwell. In fact, this morning he asked if he couldn't stay on a little longer."
Kate felt a surge of pleasure. "That's wonderful! Thank you."
When Tony's vacation was over, he went to Southampton, England, where he boarded a Pan American Airways System plane for the United States. Kate flew Pan American whenever possible. It spoiled her for other airlines.
Kate left an important meeting to greet her son when he arrived at the Pan American terminal at the newly built La Guar-dia Airport in New York. His handsome face was filled with enthusiasm.
"Did you have a good time, darling?"
"South Africa's a f-fantastic country, M-mother. Did you know they f-flew me to the Namib Desert where grandfather s-stole those diamonds from Great-grandfather v-van der Merwe?"
"He didn't steal them, Tony," Kate corrected him. "He merely took what was his."
"Sure," Tony scoffed. "Anyway, I was th-there. There was no sea mis, but they s-still have the guards and dogs and everything." He grinned. "They wouldn't give me any s-samples."
Kate laughed happily. "They don't have to give you any samples, darling. One day they will all be yours."
"You t-tell them. They wouldn't l-listen to me."
She hugged him. "You did enjoy it, didn't you?" She was enormously pleased that at last Tony was excited about his heritage.
'You know what I loved m-most?"
Kate smiled lovingly. "What?"
'The colors. I p-painted a lot of landscapes th-there. I hated to leave. I want to go back there and p-paint."
"Paint?" Kate tried to sound enthusiastic. "That sounds like a wonderful hobby, Tony."
"No. I don't m-mean as a hobby, Mother. I want to be a p-painter. I've been thinking a lot about it. I'm going to P-paris to study. I really think I might have some talent."
Kate felt herself tensing. "You don't want to spend the rest of your life painting."
"Yes, I do, M-mother. It's the only thing I really c-care about."
And Kate knew she had lost.
He has a right to live his own life, Kate thought. But how can I let him make such a terrible mistake?
In
September, the decision was taken out of both their hands Europe went to war.
"I want you to enroll in the Wharton School of Finance and Commerce," Kate informed Tony. "In two years if you still want to be an artist, you'll have my blessing." Kate was certain that by then Tony would change his mind. It was inconceivable that her son would choose to spend his life slapping daubs of color on bits of canvas when he could head the most exciting conglomerate in the world. He was, after all, her son.
To Kate Blackwell, World War II was another great opportunity. There were worldwide shortages of military supplies and materials, and Kruger-Brent was able to furnish them. One division of the company provided equipment for the armed forces, while another division took care of civilian needs. The company factories were working twenty-four hours a day.
Kate was certain the United States was not going to be able to remain neutral. President Franklin D. Roosevelt called upon the country to be the great arsenal of democracy, and on March 11, 1941, the Lend-Lease Bill was pushed through Congress. Allied shipping across the Atlantic was menaced by the German blockade. U-boats, the German submarines, attacked and sank scores of Allied ships, fighting in wolf packs of eight.
Germany was a juggernaut that seemingly could not be stopped. In defiance of the Versailles Treaty, Adolf Hitler had built up one of the greatest war machines in history. In a new blitzkrieg technique, Germany attacked Poland, Belgium and
the Netherlands, and in rapid succession, the German machine crushed Denmark, Norway, Luxembourg and France.
Kate went into action when she received word that Jews working in the Nazi-confiscated Kruger-Brent, Ltd., factories were being arrested and deported to concentration camps. She made two telephone calls, and the following week she was on her way to Switzerland. When she arrived at the Baur au Lac Hotel in Zurich, there was a message that Colonel Brinkmann wished to see her. Brinkmann had been a manager of the Berlin branch of Kruger-Brent, Ltd. When the factory had been taken over by the Nazi government, Brinkmann was given the rank of colonel and kept in charge.
He came to see Kate at the hotel. He was a thin, precise man with blond hair combed carefully over bis balding skull. "I am delighted to see you, Frau Blackwell. I have a message for you from my government. I am authorized to assure you that as soon as we have won the war, your factories will be returned to you. Germany is going to be the greatest industrial power the world has ever known, and we welcome the collaboration of people such as yourself."
"What if Germany loses?"
Colonel Brinkmann allowed a small smile to play on his lips. "We both know that cannot happen, Frau Blackwell. The United States is wise to stay out of Europe's business. I hope it continues to do so."
"I'm sure you do, Colonel." She leaned forward. 'I've heard rumors about Jews being sent to concentration camps and being exterminated. Is that true?"
"British propaganda, I assure you. It is true that die Juden are sent to work camps, but I give you my word as an officer that they are being treated as they should be."
Kate wondered exactly what those words meant. She intended to find out.
The following day Kate made an appointment with a promi-aent German merchant named Otto Bueller. Bueller was in his fifties, a distinguished-looking man with a compassionate face and eyes that had known deep suffering. They met at a small cafe near the bahnhof. Herr Bueller selected a table in a deserted corner.
"I've been told," Kate said softly, "that you've started an underground to help smuggle Jews into neutral countries. Is that true?"
"It's not true, Mrs. Blackwell. Such an act would be treason against the Third Reich."
"I have also heard that you're in need of funds to run it."
Herr Bueller shrugged. "Since there is no underground, I have no need of funds to run it, is that not so?"
His eyes kept nervously darting around the cafe. This was a man who breathed and slept with danger each day of his life.
"I was hoping I might be of some help," Kate said carefully. "Kruger-Brent, Limited, has factories in many neutral and Allied countries. If someone could get the refugees there, I would arrange for them to have employment."
Herr Bueller sat there sipping a bitter coffee. Finally, he said, "I know nothing about these things. Politics are dangerous these days. But if you are interested in helping someone in distress, I have an uncle in England who suffers from a terrible, debilitating disease. His doctor bills are very high."
"How high?"
"Fifty thousand dollars a month. Arrangements would have to be made to deposit the money for his medical expenses in London and transfer the deposits to a Swiss bank."
"That can be arranged."
"My uncle would be very pleased."
Some eight weeks later, a small but steady stream of Jewish refugees began to arrive in Allied countries to go to work in Kruger-Brent factories.
Tony quit school at the end of two years. He went up to Kate's office to tell her the news. "I t-tried, M-mother. I really d-did. But I've m-made up m-my mind. I want to s-study p-painting. When the w-war is over, I'm g-going to P-paris."
Each word was like a hammerblow.
"I kn-know you're d-disappointed, but I have to l-live my own life. I think I can be good—really good." He saw the look on Kate's face. "I've done what you've asked me to do. Now you've got to g-give me my chance. They've accepted me at the Art I-institute in Chicago."
Kate's mind was in a turmoil. What Tony wanted to do was such a bloody waste. All she could say was, "When do you plan to leave?"
"Enrollment starts on the fifteenth."
"What's the date today?"
"D-december sixth."
On Sunday, December 7, 1941, squadrons of Nakajima bombers and Zero fighter planes from the Imperial Japanese Navy attacked Pearl Harbor, and the following day, the United States was at war. That afternoon Tony enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. He was sent to Quantico, Virginia, where be was graduated from Officers' Training School and from there to the South Pacific.
Kate felt as though she were living on the edge of an abyss. Her working day was filled with the pressures of running the company, but every moment at the back of her mind was the fear that she would receive some dreaded news about Tony— that he had been wounded or killed.
The war with Japan was going badly. Japanese bombers struck at American bases on Guam, Midway and Wake islands. They took Singapore in February 1942, and quickly overran New Britain, New Ireland and the Admiralty and Solomon islands. General Douglas MacArthur was forced to withdraw from the Philippines. The powerful forces of the Axis were slowly conquering the world, and the shadows were darkening everywhere. Kate was afraid that Tony might be taken prisoner of war and tortured. With all her power and influence, there was nothing she could do except pray. Every letter from Tony was a beacon of hope, a sign that, a few short weeks before, he had been alive. 'They keep us in the dark here," Tony wrote. "Are the Russians still holding on? The Japanese soldier is brutal, but you have to respect him. He's not afraid to die ..."
"What's happening in the States? Are factory workers really striking for more money? ..."
'The PT boats are doing a wonderful job here. Those boys are all heroes ..."
"You have great connections, Mother. Send us a few hundred F4U's, the new Navy fighters. Miss you___"
On August 7, 1942, the Allies began their first offensive action in the Pacific. United States Marines landed on Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands, and from then on they kept moving to take back the islands the Japanese had conquered.
In Europe, the Allies were enjoying an almost unbroken string of victories. On June 6, 1944, the Allied invasion of Western Europe was launched with landings by American, British and Canadian troops on the Normandy beaches, and a year later, on May 7, 1945, Germany surrendered unconditionally.
In Japan, on August 6, 1945, an atomic bomb with a destructive force of more than twenty thousand tons of TNT was dropped on Hiroshima. Three days later, another ato
mic bomb destroyed the city of Nagasaki. On August 14, the Japanese surrendered. The long and bloody war was finally over.
Three months later, Tony returned home. He and Kate were at Dark Harbor, sitting on the terrace looking over the bay dotted with graceful white sails.
The war has changed him, Kate thought. There was a new maturity about Tony. He had grown a small mustache, and looked tanned and fit and handsome. There were lines about his eyes that had not been there before. Kate was sure the years overseas had given him time to reconsider his decision about not going into the company.
"What are your plans now, Son?" Kate asked.
Tony smiled. "As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, Mother—I'm going to P-paris."
BOOK FOUR
Tony 1946-1950
Tony had been to Paris before, but this time the circumstances were different. The City of Light had been dimmed by the German occupation, but had been saved from destruction when it was declared an open city. The people had suffered a great deal, and though the Nazis had looted the Louvre, Tony found Paris relatively untouched. Besides, this time he was going to live there, to be a part of the city, rather than be a tourist. He could have stayed at Kate's penthouse on Avenue du Marechal Foch, which had not been damaged during the occupation. Instead, he rented an unfurnished flat in an old converted house behind Grand Montparnasse. The apartment consisted of a living room with a fireplace, a small bedroom and a tiny kitchen that had no refrigerator. Between the bedroom and the kitchen crouched a bathroom with a claw-footed tub and small stained bidet and a temperamental toilet with a broken seat.
When the landlady started to make apologies, Tony stopped her. "It's perfect."
He spent all day Saturday at the flea market. Monday and Tuesday he toured the secondhand shops along the Left Bank, and by Wednesday he had the basic furniture he needed. A sofa bed, a scarred table, two overstuffed chairs, an old, ornately carved wardrobe, lamps and a rickety kitchen table and two straight chairs. Mother would be horrified, Tony thought. He could have had his apartment crammed with priceless antiques, but that would have been playing the part of a young American artist in Paris. He intended to live it.
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