Anyway, I learned that my new workmate had worked with Tom
Hodges at another firm. When Tom left to start a new company with Jim Vines,
the drafter left with him. I understood, then, his suspicions about me. He had
made a great gamble leaving a secure job on a bet that he would become a “key
player” in the new firm. Hell, I would have disliked me too.
Jim told me to spend the afternoon reading stuff they had
done. Tom came in about mid-afternoon, or should I say he “blew” in,
resembling a controlled cyclone. He stormed through drafting room, checked on
the work, came to me, and asked if I was getting along all right. I said yes.
He nodded and disappeared into his office. I noticed the two drafters looking
at one another with what I could only imagine as fear in their eyes. I would
discover why, later though.
Five o’clock came. Nobody moved to leave. I continued to
read. Jim had come by about four and we made plans for him to pick me up next
morning, all ready for an overnight trip. At last, I vouchsafed it safe to leave. No one
stopped me.
I walked home on the right (north) side of Capitol Avenue.
Of course, directly across the street was the Worthen high-rise. Men with
briefcases in hand, and women in nice short skirts were pouring out as if there
might have been a fire alarm. I dodged them and headed west.
Crossing Center Street, I encountered a restaurant called The Volkshouse. I would soon learn that it
featured German beer and a Polish-sausage sandwich that I remember with a
loving tremble. The building still stands. The restaurant gave way to a real
estate firm and, later, to a bank that remains until this day.
On the next block was a movie theater, the Capitol. It was to play a part in my
life, more on that later.
On the northeast corner of Broadway and Capitol was a
charming Jewish synagogue, soon to be demolished to make way for another
high-rise bank and office building. Near it was what the the closest thing to a
local phenomenon, in fast food restaurant, that Little Rock has known, The Minute Man restaurant,
created by a man named Wes Hall. It endured for years, along with other
franchises, before it sank beneath the waters of changing tastes. They’ve put a
plaque on the present building where the original outlet stood. Plaques soften
the pain that lasts from history lost forever, I suppose.
Then there was the Federal Building and main U.S. Post Office,
the marvelous lobby of which has somehow endured decades of dreadful “plastic-architecture”
additions and renewals.
Soon I was home, and the loneliness of my new life set in.
Not really. I could miss the camaraderie of shipmates tossing off a few beers while
“on the beach,” but I had a volume of T.S. Eliot’s poetry to keep me company,
along with some dense and turgid volumes about urban planning. Incomprehensible
or unreadable, I could choose.
Anchors aweigh!
Morning came. Capitol Avenue came alive. I showered and
dressed. I made a cup of instant coffee and packed a change of clothes while I choked
down the noxious liquid. Soon I was sitting on the steps of the handsome entry
to the apartment building, waiting for my first real adventure into the complexities
of my newly chosen profession. Back on the East Coast, my former shipmates
worked at repairing rigging, chipping paint, and unlimbering watercraft for the
day’s activities.
I imagined, as I sat there, the familiar sounds of work overlayered
with sonatas of the most erudite profanity on the planet. Another day in the
service of one’s country. But as for me, farewell to foreign shores, I was ready to sail with
break of day.
Was I the fortunate one? Time would tell.
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| A detail of the lobby of the Little Rock Post Office lobby by America's photographer: Carol M. Highsmith Library of Congress Collection |
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