family history, part nine
Old Grandad and The Retired Colonel founded the Exclusive Executive Mens' Club following the end of The Second Great War. They founded the club as a haven from the returing riff-raff who thought they were somebody now. While Old Grandad was grateful for the vast expansion of his fortunes caused by The Second Great War, he believed that the actual fighting of it was beneath the dignity of men of proper social standing. Bravery on the battlefield does nothing to compensate for poor breeding. Old Grandad wanted an escape from the returning heroes who presumed to be believe they were now his equal and erroneously believed that having medals compensated for a lack of manners. The Exclusive Executive Men's club was created to achieve this end and to further illustrate the differences between success in commerce and combat.
Old Grandad and The Retired Colonel learned that they were far from alone in this unique line of elite thought. Soon the cream of New York's society were all clamouring for membership.
The Club, as we in the family grew up referring to it, was located on the 12th floor of the Barrington Building in Midtown Manhattan, a few short blocks away from the Empire State Building. When the stock market crashed in 1929, prime real-estate in Manhattan became suddenly much more affordable. Old Grandad decided to move the corporate headquarters of Barrington Industries from suburban Detroit to New York City.
When he arrived in New York City in the spring of 1930, Old Grandad was surprised to learn that DuPont and those other filthy rich East Coast assholes were already in a fierce competition to build the World's Tallest Building. Normally Old Grandad's competitive nature would have caused him to jump right in the fray, but this time he held back. While Old Grandad was incredibly proud of his penis, as is evident by the family motto, his vanity was not so limitless as to cause him to build a giant version of it out of concrete and steel. Plus those other bastards had already hired the best architects and contractors.
He immediately began construction on a surprisingly less ambitious yet more practical project. He commissioned a building with 13 floors. This was done to both flaunt his disbelief in superstition and to exploit the belief of others who were not so enlightened. While not overtly racist, Old Grandad greatly distrusted the Mohawk Indians who did much of the high iron and steelwork in the buildings at the time. He thought them savages, and subsequently was fearful they would attempt acts of sabatoge designed to seek revenge on the white men who stole their lands. Hence the 13 floors. The Indian steelworkers were a superstitious lot, and Old Grandad's ploy worked. Not a single one ever came to the job site seeking employment. Subsequently most of the work was done by gangs of drunken Irishmen. The fact that three or four typically fell to their death each week during the eight months of construction only fueled belief in the superstition. To this day many believe the building to be haunted by the ghosts of inebriated and underpaid workers.
I grew up running around that building and I can tell you that the only drunken Irishmen I ever saw were wandering the lower office floors on St. Patrick's Day.
When The Barrington Building was completed in June 1931, the first 11 floors were dedicated to the various offices required to run a large company. There was the sales floor, the accounts payable floor, the research and development floor, and so on. The top two floors were originally designed as apartments for the family. When Old Grandad founded The Club he remodelled and redesigned the 12th floor for that purpose. He kept the 13th floor for himself as a private penthouse apartment designed to be his personal playground for discretely entertaining his many lady friends away from the prying eyes of Grandma Milly, God rest her soul.
And it was between the smoky oak panelled walls of The Club's lobby on the 12th floor of The Barrington Building that my father, Roosevelt Barrington, The Bastard, was scheduled, some might say destined, to marry Catherine Adler on a November evening in 1965.
Old Grandad and The Retired Colonel learned that they were far from alone in this unique line of elite thought. Soon the cream of New York's society were all clamouring for membership.
The Club, as we in the family grew up referring to it, was located on the 12th floor of the Barrington Building in Midtown Manhattan, a few short blocks away from the Empire State Building. When the stock market crashed in 1929, prime real-estate in Manhattan became suddenly much more affordable. Old Grandad decided to move the corporate headquarters of Barrington Industries from suburban Detroit to New York City.
When he arrived in New York City in the spring of 1930, Old Grandad was surprised to learn that DuPont and those other filthy rich East Coast assholes were already in a fierce competition to build the World's Tallest Building. Normally Old Grandad's competitive nature would have caused him to jump right in the fray, but this time he held back. While Old Grandad was incredibly proud of his penis, as is evident by the family motto, his vanity was not so limitless as to cause him to build a giant version of it out of concrete and steel. Plus those other bastards had already hired the best architects and contractors.
He immediately began construction on a surprisingly less ambitious yet more practical project. He commissioned a building with 13 floors. This was done to both flaunt his disbelief in superstition and to exploit the belief of others who were not so enlightened. While not overtly racist, Old Grandad greatly distrusted the Mohawk Indians who did much of the high iron and steelwork in the buildings at the time. He thought them savages, and subsequently was fearful they would attempt acts of sabatoge designed to seek revenge on the white men who stole their lands. Hence the 13 floors. The Indian steelworkers were a superstitious lot, and Old Grandad's ploy worked. Not a single one ever came to the job site seeking employment. Subsequently most of the work was done by gangs of drunken Irishmen. The fact that three or four typically fell to their death each week during the eight months of construction only fueled belief in the superstition. To this day many believe the building to be haunted by the ghosts of inebriated and underpaid workers.
I grew up running around that building and I can tell you that the only drunken Irishmen I ever saw were wandering the lower office floors on St. Patrick's Day.
When The Barrington Building was completed in June 1931, the first 11 floors were dedicated to the various offices required to run a large company. There was the sales floor, the accounts payable floor, the research and development floor, and so on. The top two floors were originally designed as apartments for the family. When Old Grandad founded The Club he remodelled and redesigned the 12th floor for that purpose. He kept the 13th floor for himself as a private penthouse apartment designed to be his personal playground for discretely entertaining his many lady friends away from the prying eyes of Grandma Milly, God rest her soul.
And it was between the smoky oak panelled walls of The Club's lobby on the 12th floor of The Barrington Building that my father, Roosevelt Barrington, The Bastard, was scheduled, some might say destined, to marry Catherine Adler on a November evening in 1965.
posted by dr noyz @ 10:15 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home