people” hadn’t yet found them.
At first Decca had been delighted by her job at the fair. Built to demonstrate “The World of Tomorrow,” the fair offered many international delights, including the outdoor cafés of the Swiss pavilion and a television in the RCA pavilion, which transmitted “operas, cartoons, cooking demonstrations, travelogues, fashion shows, and skaters at Rockefeller Center.” Outside the Heinz pavilion, hungry urchins stood in line to get the tiny gherkins offered as samples. Then they lined up again, making a day of it. The booth in which Decca worked was a faux “old Scotch cottage with a spinning wheel and handloom,” with a “weaver imported direct from Scotland,” who was also their barker. “Only 10 cents to come in! It’s better than the Billy Rose’s Aquacade!” he would shout hopefully, though the Aquacade featured Esther Williams, Johnny Weissmuller, and the opposite of tartan woolens: a wet, refreshing spray. Working the fair in August was too hot, and Decca loathed her boss. Soon, she and Esmond were beckoned by the open road.
THE HEADLINE OF the couple’s next installment was “English Adventurers Learn the Hard Way,” and following the conventions of a second act, introduces its hero and heroine to a deepening series of obstacles. Unemployed again, Esmond attended bartender school, where he met real salt-of-the-earth types, homegrown and immigrant, and worked hard to gain both his coworkers’ and his readers’ approval. In a complementary piece, Decca delighted in describing the two of them as gadabouts, flirting with the underworld in the person of an expat racetrack tout.
Decca and Esmond invited Donahue, as they knew him, to their apartment for dinner, and he reciprocated by letting them in on some sure bets. Donahue had a “soft Lancashire brogue” and a line about loving and losing a “lass who worked in a mill in Wigan,” as well as a tale of complete financial
ruin followed by a miraculous turnaround at the track, once he hit upon a plan to beat the system. Simply put, Donahue bribed jockeys to throw races, and for a very small investment, he offered the young couple an opportunity to share in great rewards. In confidence, he added that his foolproof plan required only that he never be greedy. To Esmond, the humility of the scheme—its nonviolent but low-grade risk—as well as Donahue’s implied friendship with Broadway habitués such as writer Damon Runyon and legendary boxer Jack Dempsey, proved irresistible. Decca was amused but more reluctant to gamble away their small savings. Esmond persuaded her with a strategy of his own to con the con: “You see, he’s planning to take us for a LONG ride. He’s much too important a crook to be interested in some piddling amount. Then when we’ve won say around $500, we’ll simply stop there. The SHORT ride versus the LONG ride, that’s what our policy should be.”
They invested everything they had. Donahue raised their hopes with a big win on their first horse, but when he never showed up to pay them off, they lost their savings after all. The consequence of that deal inspired some unusually revealing writing. Decca rarely portrayed Esmond as anything less than stoic, but on this occasion, he was angry and vulnerable. He stood in the shower looking “as if he’d been there for hours. Water was dribbling down his face, contorting his expression. ‘Don’t come near me,’ he said. ‘Don’t touch me.’”
Esmond loved to gamble. Perhaps he believed that fortune favors the brave. He always had so much riding on quick, correct decisions. It was perhaps a talent that had kept him alive in Spain. A little fast money would have alleviated the pressure. They hadn’t been in New York long, but all the rushing around—meeting contacts and keeping up appearances—had to have been wearing. Donahue hadn’t persuaded Decca to bet a dime, but in those days, for Esmond, she’d have gambled everything.
Decca
At first Decca had been delighted by her job at the fair. Built to demonstrate “The World of Tomorrow,” the fair offered many international delights, including the outdoor cafés of the Swiss pavilion and a television in the RCA pavilion, which transmitted “operas, cartoons, cooking demonstrations, travelogues, fashion shows, and skaters at Rockefeller Center.” Outside the Heinz pavilion, hungry urchins stood in line to get the tiny gherkins offered as samples. Then they lined up again, making a day of it. The booth in which Decca worked was a faux “old Scotch cottage with a spinning wheel and handloom,” with a “weaver imported direct from Scotland,” who was also their barker. “Only 10 cents to come in! It’s better than the Billy Rose’s Aquacade!” he would shout hopefully, though the Aquacade featured Esther Williams, Johnny Weissmuller, and the opposite of tartan woolens: a wet, refreshing spray. Working the fair in August was too hot, and Decca loathed her boss. Soon, she and Esmond were beckoned by the open road.
THE HEADLINE OF the couple’s next installment was “English Adventurers Learn the Hard Way,” and following the conventions of a second act, introduces its hero and heroine to a deepening series of obstacles. Unemployed again, Esmond attended bartender school, where he met real salt-of-the-earth types, homegrown and immigrant, and worked hard to gain both his coworkers’ and his readers’ approval. In a complementary piece, Decca delighted in describing the two of them as gadabouts, flirting with the underworld in the person of an expat racetrack tout.
Decca and Esmond invited Donahue, as they knew him, to their apartment for dinner, and he reciprocated by letting them in on some sure bets. Donahue had a “soft Lancashire brogue” and a line about loving and losing a “lass who worked in a mill in Wigan,” as well as a tale of complete financial
ruin followed by a miraculous turnaround at the track, once he hit upon a plan to beat the system. Simply put, Donahue bribed jockeys to throw races, and for a very small investment, he offered the young couple an opportunity to share in great rewards. In confidence, he added that his foolproof plan required only that he never be greedy. To Esmond, the humility of the scheme—its nonviolent but low-grade risk—as well as Donahue’s implied friendship with Broadway habitués such as writer Damon Runyon and legendary boxer Jack Dempsey, proved irresistible. Decca was amused but more reluctant to gamble away their small savings. Esmond persuaded her with a strategy of his own to con the con: “You see, he’s planning to take us for a LONG ride. He’s much too important a crook to be interested in some piddling amount. Then when we’ve won say around $500, we’ll simply stop there. The SHORT ride versus the LONG ride, that’s what our policy should be.”
They invested everything they had. Donahue raised their hopes with a big win on their first horse, but when he never showed up to pay them off, they lost their savings after all. The consequence of that deal inspired some unusually revealing writing. Decca rarely portrayed Esmond as anything less than stoic, but on this occasion, he was angry and vulnerable. He stood in the shower looking “as if he’d been there for hours. Water was dribbling down his face, contorting his expression. ‘Don’t come near me,’ he said. ‘Don’t touch me.’”
Esmond loved to gamble. Perhaps he believed that fortune favors the brave. He always had so much riding on quick, correct decisions. It was perhaps a talent that had kept him alive in Spain. A little fast money would have alleviated the pressure. They hadn’t been in New York long, but all the rushing around—meeting contacts and keeping up appearances—had to have been wearing. Donahue hadn’t persuaded Decca to bet a dime, but in those days, for Esmond, she’d have gambled everything.
Decca
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