Robert Heinlein - To Sail Beyond The Sunset

It was from Woodrow that I had expected the most fuss as he was due to enter his senior year at Central High School in September 1929 and was a likely candidate for cadet commander of the ROTC battalion at Central, especially as both Brian Junior and George had each commanded the cadet battalion in their senior year.

But Woodrow did not even insist on finishing the second semester; he transferred in mid-term to Westport High School - somewhat to my dismay, as I had counted on him to drive Dick and Ethel to Central, one in junior High there, the other just entering Senior High. So, willy-nilly, they had to transfer in mid-term, too, as I did not have time to drive them and it was an impossible trip by streetcar. Teddy and Peggy I put in Country Day School, an excellent private school, as Eleanor suggested that she could handle two more in her car along with the three she had in that school.

It was several years before I realised that Woodrow's willingness to switch schools abruptly had to do with a renovated cow pasture still farther south that had a sign on it: ACE HARDY'S FUING SCHOOL. Woodrow had acquired (I think that is the right word) his unlikely automobile in the summer of 1928, and after that we had seen little of him other than at meals. But I discovered later that Woodrow had learned to fly while still in high school.

As everyone knows, Black Tuesday arrived on the dot. Briney called me long distance a week later. ‘Frau Doktor Krausmeyer?'

‘Elmer!'

‘Children okay?'

‘Everyone is fine but they miss their Papa. As do I. Hurry home, dear; I'm honing to see you.'

‘Didn't that hired man work out?'

‘No staying power. I let him go. I decided to wait for you.'

‘But I'm not coming home.'

‘Oh.'

‘Don't you want to know why?'

(Yes, Briney, I do want to know why. And some day I'm going to put itch powder into your jock-strap for these guessing games.) ‘Buffalo Bill, you'll tell me when it suits you and whatever suits you.'

‘Rangy Lil, how would you like to go to Paris? And to Switzerland?'

‘Hadn't you better make it South America? Some country where there is no extradition?' (Damn you, Briney! Quit teasing me.)

‘I want you to leave tomorrow. Take the C and A to Chicago, then the Pennsy to New York. I'll meet your train and take you to our hotel. We sail for Cherbourg on Saturday.'

‘Yes, sir.' (Oh, that man!) ‘About our children - Seven, I believe. Are you interested in the arrangements I make for them? Or shall I just use my judgement?' (What arrangements can I make with Eleanor?)

‘Use your judgement. But if Ira is there, I'd like to speak to him.'

‘To hear is to obey, Effendi.'

After Brian spoke to him, Father said to me, ‘I told Brian not to worry, as Ethel is a competent cook. If she needs help, I will hire help. So, Maureen, you mo run along and have fun; the youngsters will be safe. Don't pack more than two bags, because -‘ The phone rang again.

‘Maureen? Your big sister, dear. Did you hear from Brian?'

‘Yes.'

‘Good. I have the train schedules and the Pullman reservations; Justin arranged them from New York. Frank will drive us to the station. You must be ready by ten tomorrow morning. Can you manage it?'

‘I'll have to manage it. I may be barefooted and my hair in a bath knot -‘

I became addicted to travel in a luxury liner in nothing flat. The Île de France was a wonderful shock to little Maureen Johnson whose idea of luxury was enough bathrooms for seven - usually seven; it varied - children and enough hot water. Briney had taken me to the Grand Canyon two years earlier and that was wonderful ... but this was another sort of wonderful. A concierge who seemed anxious to swim back and fetch anything Madame wishes. A maid who spoke English but understood my French and did not laugh at my accent. A full orchestra at dinner, a chamber music trio for tea, dancing to live music every night. Breakfast in bed. A masseuse on call. A living-room for our suite bigger and much fancier than Eleanor's at home, and two master bedrooms.

‘Justin, why are we at the Captain's table?'

‘I don't know. Because we have this suite, maybe.'

‘And why do we have this suite? Everything in first class looks luxurious; I would not have complained if we had been in second class. But this is gilding the lily. Isn't it?'

‘Maureen my sweet, I ordered two outside double staterooms, first class, which were confirmed and we paid for them. Then two days before sailing the agent telephoned and offered me this suite at the price we had paid plus a nominal surcharge, one hundred dollars. Seems the man who had reserved this suite had not been able to sail. I asked why he had cancelled. Instead of answering he cut the surcharge to fifty dollars. I asked who had died in that suite and was it contagious. Again instead of answering he offered to eliminate the surcharge if we would just let the New York Times and L'Illustration photograph us in our suite-which we did, you remember.'

‘And was it contagious?'

‘Not really. The poor fellow jumped out a twenty-storey window - the day after Black Tuesday:

‘Oh! I should keep my mouth shut.'

‘Mo darling, this suite was not his home, he was never in it in his life; it is not haunted. He was just one of many thousands of chumps who became paper-wealthy gambling on margin. If it will make you feel any better, I can assure you that both Brian and . I made no secret of our intention of getting out of the market when we did because we expected the market to collapse before the end of October. Nobody would listen.' Justin shook his head, shrugged.

Brian added, ‘I almost had to strangle one broker to get him to execute my orders. He seemed to think it was immoral and possibly illegal to sell when the market was going steadily up. "Wait till it tops," he said. "Then sell. You're crazy to quit at this point." I told him that my grandmother had read the tea-leaves and told me that now was the time to unload. He again said that I was crazy. I told him to execute those orders at once... or I was going straight to the governors of the Exchange and have him investigated for bucket shop operations. That really got him angry, so he sold me out... and then got still angrier when I insisted on a certified cheque. I took the cheque and cashed it at once. And changed the cash to gold... as I recalled all too clearly that Ted said that banks would start to go boom.'

I wanted to ask where that gold was now. But I did not.

Zurich is a lovely city, prettier than any I had seen in the United States. The language there is alleged to be German but it is not the German spoken by my neighbour from Munich. But I got along fine once I realised that almost everyone spoke English. Our men were busy; Eleanor and I had a wonderful time being tourists.

Then one day they took us with them and I found myself the surprised owner of a numbered bank account, for 155.515 grams of fine gold (which I had no trouble interpreting as one hundred thousand dollars, but it was not called such). Then I found myself signing powers of attorney over ‘my' bank account to Brian and to Justin, while Eleanor did the same with a similar account. And a limited power of attorney to someone I had never heard of in Winnipeg, Canada.

We were not placed in that fancy suite because we were high society; we were not. But the purser was carrying in his safe I do not know how many ounces of gold, most of which belonged to the Ira Howard Foundation, and some of which belonged, personally to Brian, and to Justin, and my father. That gold was moved by the Bank of France from Cherbourg to Zurich, and we rode with it.

In Zurich Brian and Justin, as witnesses and trustees for the Foundation, saw the shipment opened, saw it counted and weighed, and then deposited with a consortium of three banks. For the Foundation had taken very seriously Theodore's warning that Mr Roosevelt would devalue the dollar, then make it illegal for American citizens to own or possess gold.