The Ego Makers

by Donald Everett Axinn

  I met Joyce as planned. She wore a big smile and a beige spring suit with a flowered print blouse. Having a baby hadn’t reshaped her one bit. If anything, her face reflected a new maturity. I had dressed carefully and applied my best aftershave lotion. As I helped her get seated, I placed my hands on her shoulders.

  “Please, Henry, you’re making me uncomfortable.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” I sat down and looked at her.

  “I’m hungry,” she said. “Let’s order.”

  “You’re still lovely, Joyce.”

  “No new lines in your face, I see. Or bags under your eyes. I noticed your walk, Henry. Shoulders back. Head up. I’m glad you’re all right. From all I’d heard, I was afraid you might be depressed. I see you’re not, and I’m glad.”

  We spent the next hour in small talk. Ex-lovers can end up in a long-term friendship. I hoped Joyce wanted more than that, probably because I didn’t want her feelings for me to change. But they clearly had. What I said or did no longer had the same effect on her. Somehow, we both managed to avoid mentioning Steve’s name, even once.

  We finished lunch, stepped outside, and strolled to the corner. It was a bright, sparkling spring afternoon, sun pouring down from a cloudless sky. “Say hello once in a while,’ she said, and gave me a peck on the cheek. I watched her get into a cab and head uptown.

  I called Dianne from my car as I emerged from the Midtown Tunnel on the Queens side. She ran down the list of calls. “Oh, there’s one coming in on the other line. Want to see who it is?”

  “No, IH return it when I’m back in the office. Did Leo Singer confirm our tennis game?”

  “I’ll fax Dr. Singer again.” She called back a few minutes later. “It was Mr. Phelan returning your call. No rush to get back to him, he said, but if you want to reach him, he left a number.” She gave it to me.

  No rush? I’d been trying to reach Phelan for a week.

  “Henry, my boy,” Phelan said, “nice to hear from you. I trust you had a good vacation. Killing all the appropriate dragons back here?”

  “Every time I slay one, six more jump out from behind a bush — no, a building.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear your sense of humor is intact. What can I do for you?”

  Td like to explore something with you, Jack. Any chance of meeting?”

  ‘I’m off this Saturday with my wife on a holiday to Ireland and Scandinavia. Not much time before I leave. But I could have dinner with you tonight.”

  “You’re on. Lotos Club at seven-thirty?”

  “Fine.”

  I called Dianne, and told her to reschedule my tennis date. And to tell Leo that I’d spot him three games each set.

  A receptionist at the Lotos Club directed me to one of the libraries.

  Phelan rose to greet me. “So, my young friend,” he said, smiling

  and shaking my hand. “None the worse, I suspect.” We sat in plush red leather chairs. “I remember telling you that certain men rise up from defeat and come back to achieve the highest positions of leadership. Take Herbert Hoover. Or Harry Truman.” A waiter took our drink order.

  “I appreciate your taking the time, Jack. Especially given your schedule.”

  I surveyed the room. Men and a few women engaged in conversation. Some were reading newspapers. A waiter brought a scotch for Jack, Campari on the rocks with a twist for me. I was on the edge of my chair, but decided it was best to sit back and sip my drink.

  I cleared my throat. Jack’s opening remark encouraged me to cut right to the chase. “History has proven that substantial monies can be made even in the depths of a recession,’1 said. “Even during the Depression, when it was at its worst.” Jack seemed to be listening carefully. “An old adage,’ I went on, “buy when everyone is selling and sell when they’re buying.” He nodded and sipped his scotch.

  ‘We’ve had a near collapse in income properties. Prices have dropped like a plane without wings. Now is the perfect time to pick up buildings at incredibly low prices. At values that reflect bottom rents. The theory is simple —”

  “I know,’ he interrupted. “Eventually rents rise as demand increases and available space is limited. The return on investment starts out modestly but climbs over time. I agree with your premise. You’re about to ask me if I'll furnish some capital. Am I right?”

  I nodded.

  “Actually,” he said, “I wasn’t surprised to hear from you.” He laughed. “You sound like John Phelan as a kid in the Bronx, convincing old man O’Hallahan how to increase his volume.”

  He paused, a frown forming on his leonine brow. “This said, Henry, right now you’re anything but an ideal candidate to invest with. You have some proving to do. And I’d better spell out the conditions I would require” — he paused — “if I were to decide to involve myself. Based on certain standards — which would have built-in controls and others we would have to agree on in advance — I may be willing to invest. Even become your partner. Limited and silent, mind you. Let me emphasize, limited, not general. You would be responsible for everything, guarantees and so forth. I would also require that you put in a small part of the investment.” TU find whatever it takes.”

  “Understood,’ he said. “That’s the easy part. Strictly mechanics. The difficult part will be proving to me your plan is sound. For each particular transaction. Also, the controls I’d require you might not agree to. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not out to hamstring you. A man like you must be given his head, I recognize that. But enough small talk.” He heaved himself from the armchair. “Let’s get some dinner. The fish is excellent So are the game birds. But, I forget. I’m your guest tonight.”

  The dining room in use that evening was the grill room, aesthetically tasteful, the decor and paintings representations of New York in the first decades of this century. We were seated at a secluded table. After ordering, Phelan picked up where he’d left off. “Henry, you’ve proven you’re talented. But remember what I once told you —- history is glutted with the sad tales of men who believed that they were invincible.”

  He leaned forward. “Let me be blunt, Henry. Are you suffering from an overdose of ego? If so, why would I invest with such a man? Or has your ego been moderated?” The maître d’ led three men to a table near ours. They recognized Jack and came over.

  He introduced them. One was a prominent banker. “Oh, yes, Mr. Martin,” he said, “you’re a developer, right?” I nodded. He smiled with a kind of smugness I have always detested, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. They spent another minute in chitchat and then sat down at their table. I noticed them whispering. I smiled across at them. Go fuck yourselves, I thought.

  “To continue, Henry. I believe that with counsel from me, close cooperation, and the monitoring of your actions, a partnership might work. However, my involvement would have to remain absolutely confidential. Of course, your close associates would know, but all funds would come from an attorney. For two reasons — if you blow it, I’ve lost money, but it wouldn’t reflect on my reputation. Second, it’s better for you that the world not be aware I’m involved.”

  I didn’t agree. His name would be an enormous plus, especially in the present market.

  ‘I’m flattered, Jack No, more than flattered. Grateful. How do you envisage structuring such a deal?”

  “Here’s the way I see it,” Phelan said. “I make the initial investment. We both get a ten percent return for our investments. After they’re paid back, we split fifty-fifty. I think that’s fair. And you must participate in the capital contribution to the tune often percent. Also, decisions, major ones, will require my approval.”

  I would have preferred a straight fifty-fifty with no investment, but I was willing to accept almost any offer. “May I ask what level of investment you had in mind?”

  “At least ten million. Two million to start, with two additional tranches of four million each, spread out or not, depending on the deals. That amount can be increased. I migh
t even get some of my friends to join in and create a larger capital pool. There’s even the prospect of raising funds in the public market.” The waiter whisked off our appetizer plates and deftly replaced them with new ones. “It all has to do with how you perform.”

  He buttered a biscuit. “I’m not supposed to have butter. Let’s hope it’s margarine.” He patted my hand. “I want it crystal clear between us that the reports and monitoring I require are acceptable to you, not because you have to in order to get my funds, but because you believe I can be helpful.”

  “What are you afraid of, Jack? That I’ll repeat the same mistakes? I think it’s safe to say I’ve learned from them.”

  “I hope so. Frankly, it has everything to do with that damn ego of yours. I believe in strong egos, God knows, but I think yours may have gotten out of control. It needs to be tamed.” He bent his impressive head over the main course and began to attack it with authority. Then he looked up. I'll think all this over carefully and call you from Europe,” he said. “I want you to understand I am not committing to anything yet.”

  I looked across at him. He was tough, but I knew he was sincere. He sounded like my father. Everybody, it seemed, was trying to tell me the same thing.

  As we finished the meal, he said if he decided to proceed, we could sit down with our attorneys and work out an agreement quite quickly.

  On the sidewalk outside the club, where a dozen sleek limousines lined up like so many obedient butlers, Phelan warmly shook my hand.

  “I've always liked you, Henry. Maybe because I see a bit of myself in you. When I was younger I had an ego big as a house. Almost did me in a couple of times.” He paused. “So I know it can be tamed.”

  He gave a hearty wave as his limo pulled away from the curb. No commitment, Henry. He could think it over and decide against it. Remember that, I told myself, before you get your hopes up too high.

  Still, I felt more optimistic than I had in months.

  Later, I called Julie. “How about this — spend a few days here with me in the Large Tomato. I promise, no parties, just tramping around in the wild woods of Manhattan. Terrific food, a show if you’d like, and plenty of me. I’d also like to introduce you to my guys. Can I tempt you?”

  “A deal,” she said. “But I want it in writing.”

  I laughed and said she’d have a fax in the morning.

  2

  WITH Phelan on holiday I was forced into limbo. But I had a gut feeling he would say yes, and so on that optimistic basic I did considerable strategic planning.

  I took Ari to lunch and convinced him how it made sense for him to stay on. He really wanted to, he said. His concern was not whether we’d regain our past glory, but whether the company would or could remain viable. News of Phelan’s possible infusion of capital settled it for him. It had the same salutary effect on Ken and Cal as well.

  “It’s not a certainty,’ I cautioned.

  I called Julie to arrange her visit. “How will I remember who you are?” I asked.

  “I’ll be the one in the short skirt, cowboy boots, hat, and packing two six-guns,” she warned.

  I met her the following Friday at the Northwest Terminal at LaGuardia Airport. She looked terrific. She literally threw herself at me, coiling legs and arms around me. Several of the arriving passengers watched, some shocked, some amused. “I decided to dress more in keeping with the environment of the Big City. Where do I get my passport stamped?”

  “Not to worry, sweetheart. You’re with me. I’M get us through,”

  I said in my best Clark Gable voice. We jumped into my car.

  “What’s the plan? First show me the sights? Then your etchings?"

  I pulled out onto Grand Central Parkway. “If it’s all right with you, I thought we’d grab a late lunch at my club, then head to the office. A few checks and papers to sign.”

  Julie curled up next to me. “I’ve missed you. Your body, not your mind.”

  “I'll be faster than lightning in the office, then to my place in Manhattan for, uh, whatever. Then I want to take you to Le Cirque for dinner. About the best French food in town. After that, if we’re not too beat, jazz down in the Village.”

  “I think this country girl will just about make it through dinner.”

  Julie and I made a grand entrance into the grill room of my Glen Pointe club, where people turned to rubberneck.

  After lunch, we strolled on the grounds, under magnificent huge red maples, white pines and hemlocks, dogwoods, mulberries, chestnuts, ginkgoes, beeches, and other specimen trees.

  We put time aside to talk and hold hands. We stopped at intervals to hug and kiss. I felt both tender and tentative. Ready to pick up where we had left off.

  Prom the club, we drove to Garden City. Eyes focused on Julie as she preceded me through the office. I had never brought a female friend there before. Dianne came in with folders that required my signature, and I introduced them. While I signed checks and letters, Julie scrutinized every photo, plaque, and framed letter on the walls. When I was finished I said, Td like you to meet Ken and Ari. Cal Ostreicher is in the city. You might meet him while you’re here.”

  Ken and Ari were in the conference room. When we entered they rose and shook hands. Prom the look on their faces it was clear they found Julie to their liking. Ari and I reviewed a few business matters, while Ken engaged Julie in conversation.

  The telephone rang. When I heard who it was, I told Dianne I’d take it in my office. “Be back in a minute,” I said. Julie’s face made it clear she was not pleased.

  “I know this is late, but I was wondering if you were free this weekend?” It was Karen Viscomi. “I’ve got the house in Martha’s Vineyard all for myself.” She sounded like Mae West on a good day.

  In that minisecond I thought about being together. Lord, Temptation, thy name is Karen. “Oh, God, Fm sorry Karen. Normally, I'd love to, but I can’t. Tied up this weekend. I’ll call you for dinner.”

  “There’s a tone in your voice,’ she said. “Not the same Henry!”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s just that I came out of a meeting to take your call.”

  “I understand,’ she said. “Sorry it didn’t work out. Take care of yourself, Henry. I miss you.”

  “If you don’t mind my inquiring,’ Julie asked as we were driving toward Manhattan, “could that have been a call from an old friend?”

  “The lady is insightful.” I laughed. “Aren’t you the same lady who declared that nobody could tell her what to do?”

  “Absolutely. I was just curious.”

  “You know, Julie,” I said, “despite our grand declarations, let’s face it. We’re both possessive.” Julie was looking through her side window, apparently oblivious to my pregnant observation.

  “There are more automobiles on the Long Island Expressway than in the entire state of Wisconsin,” she said. “What a lousy commute! I'll take the sticks anytime.”

  “I told her I wasn’t available this weekend,” I said, then added, “and that I was very involved with someone.” Half true.

  “Thanks, Henry.” She snuggled up next to me. “Especially for a guy who usually sees several women at a time, if my reports are correct.”

  “Me? Everyone knows Fm straight and pure.” She made a face. “Besides,” I added, “how good a lover could I be if I were thinking of you when I was with someone else?”

  “By the time I’m through with you, you won’t be able to look at another woman,” she said.

  We teased each other for a few minutes. Then Julie said, “I wasn’t going to mention this, but…”

  “But…”

  “Well, in your conference room, after Ari went back to his office and you were talking to your schnitzel, your buddy, Ken, started to come on a little.”

  “Like how?”

  “Oh, the typical bullshit. If I wasn’t married, I wouldn’t let a woman as incredibly good-looking as you out of my sight."

  “Jesus Christ!” I exploded. “That �
��”

  “Hold on, Henry. I’m sure he doesn’t really mean to make a pass at your woman.”

  “Well, he shouldn’t be that dumb. I'll straighten him out pretty goddamn quick!” I was quiet a few minutes and then asked, “Julie, are you trying to make me jealous?”

  “I guess we can’t take each other for granted, can we?” she said. “I suppose it all has a bearing on how much we’re willing to commit, doesn’t it?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

  It was a weekend to remember. Julie loved every place I dragged her, every morsel of food, every jazz joint and show — two in three days — and her energy never seemed to flag. The second night I took her to Cellar in the Sky, the romantic enclave tucked inside the Windows on the World, and let her marvel at the luminous city below. I felt a little like Satan displaying his wares. I could tell she was impressed.

  “New York’s not such a bad place,” she said as we strolled home after dinner. “If only there weren’t all those people!”

  “I can’t talk you into staying on?” I asked toward the end of the weekend. We had just finished brunch at the Tacky Oyster, a new restaurant on Columbus Avenue. We were walking next to Central Park and then to Lincoln Center for a Mozart concert.

  “I could get used to you being around, Julie. You know — to do my socks and underwear. And some of that old-fashioned Wisconsin cooking.”

  She wagged a finger at me. “You have it backward, pardner. With me, men do the cooking. And the sewing.”

  “Only kidding.”

  “I love you, Henry,” she uttered softly.

  “I love you too,” I said.

  “So where do we go from here?” I asked, more to myself than to Julie.

  “I go to Wisconsin," Julie said. “And you go to, what’s it called, Nassau?”

  Julie departed from LaGuardia on Monday evening. I told her I would fly to Wausau in two weeks. Driving back into Manhattan, I missed Julie tremendously. If I didn’t want to lose her, I had better well do something about it. The question was: What, exactly?