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Authors: Michael Bockman, Ron Freeman
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don’t, you should,” the fox replied.
It was George Vanderbilt. “I’ve been looking for you, Jack. I need someone who I could have a smoke with. You up for a little stroll?”
The evening sky was splashed with magenta, dimly lighting a pussycat and a fox as they ambled over the long lawn of Crossways. Both puffed on cigarettes. They tried to make small talk, but neither was very good at it. Astor finally broached the subject he’d been bursting to talk about with Vanderbilt for months.
“ So, what did you really think of that book I sent you?” Astor asked.
“‘ The future,’ as you called it, Jack?”
“ Yes, ‘the future.’”
“ I told you. I thought it was absolutely batty. That fellow Gillette should stick to razor blades.”
“ You didn’t see the potential in it?”
“ Good god, no. One giant city where everyone would live? What a nightmare!”
“ That’s not it,” said Astor. “Gillette was way off there. But his idea of having a new type of city is brilliant. Just brilliant. Look at New York. It’s a jumble of shops and people and slums. It’s ugly and smelly. There’s no efficiency to it.”
“ Spoken like a true engineer, Jack.” Vanderbilt was humoring him and Astor was a little frustrated trying to make Vanderbilt see his vision. Then he noticed a croquet game set up over the lawn. He ran toward a cluster of the wooden balls.
“ Don’t you think, if you could give people a city where life was made easy, where you could have…” he took one of the balls in his hand and carefully placed it on the lawn. “…shopping centers in one convenient place…” Astor took another ball and placed it about a yard from the first “…and dining centers in another convenient place…” He took a third ball and placed it so that an arc was taking shape…“and work centers and recreational centers and living centers…” He put a ball down for each center. The arc transformed into a careful geometric circle. “…And all these centers would be powered by a centralized electrical system and connected by efficient, mass transportation, don’t you think people and businesses would flock to these cities?”
Vanderbilt didn’t answer, contemplating the circle.
Astor raced over the lawn and began rearranging the croquet wickets so that they lined up in a new pattern. “And you wouldn’t have just one of these cities, but many of them. They’d be strategically located all over America and easily connected by roads or water or train.”
“ Cities aren’t built from scratch,” Vanderbilt plainly stated.
“ And that’s why they’re a mess. It’s time to build the great cities of the future, George. Cities that are designed for maximum efficiency. Cities that people would flock to because it gives them better lives. And the people who develop these cities would be remembered forever.”
“ And make money,” Vanderbilt said, as much to himself as to Astor.
“ That goes without saying.”
“ It’s a big project.”
“ The biggest.”
“ It’s all very interesting, I’ll give you that.” Vanderbilt looked over the rearranged croquet game one more time. “Very interesting.”
Astor rode home that evening elated. His role in life was finally clear. He was meeting his destiny: “Architect of the Future.” He kept turning that phrase over in his head. “Architect of the Future!”
In the seat next to Astor, Vincent was as aglow as his father, though for a very different reason. Chicken Little had pulled him into a hidden alcove just off the ballroom, pressed her mouth to his, parted her lips, slithered her tongue slowly into his mouth and presented him with the first great kiss of his life.
CHAPTER 7
T heodore Roosevelt’s ship anchored in Mombassa, East British Africa on April 18, 1909. With him were his son Kermit and seven other expedition members. They were accompanied by 250 guides and porters who, for ten months, would haul six tons
It was George Vanderbilt. “I’ve been looking for you, Jack. I need someone who I could have a smoke with. You up for a little stroll?”
The evening sky was splashed with magenta, dimly lighting a pussycat and a fox as they ambled over the long lawn of Crossways. Both puffed on cigarettes. They tried to make small talk, but neither was very good at it. Astor finally broached the subject he’d been bursting to talk about with Vanderbilt for months.
“ So, what did you really think of that book I sent you?” Astor asked.
“‘ The future,’ as you called it, Jack?”
“ Yes, ‘the future.’”
“ I told you. I thought it was absolutely batty. That fellow Gillette should stick to razor blades.”
“ You didn’t see the potential in it?”
“ Good god, no. One giant city where everyone would live? What a nightmare!”
“ That’s not it,” said Astor. “Gillette was way off there. But his idea of having a new type of city is brilliant. Just brilliant. Look at New York. It’s a jumble of shops and people and slums. It’s ugly and smelly. There’s no efficiency to it.”
“ Spoken like a true engineer, Jack.” Vanderbilt was humoring him and Astor was a little frustrated trying to make Vanderbilt see his vision. Then he noticed a croquet game set up over the lawn. He ran toward a cluster of the wooden balls.
“ Don’t you think, if you could give people a city where life was made easy, where you could have…” he took one of the balls in his hand and carefully placed it on the lawn. “…shopping centers in one convenient place…” Astor took another ball and placed it about a yard from the first “…and dining centers in another convenient place…” He took a third ball and placed it so that an arc was taking shape…“and work centers and recreational centers and living centers…” He put a ball down for each center. The arc transformed into a careful geometric circle. “…And all these centers would be powered by a centralized electrical system and connected by efficient, mass transportation, don’t you think people and businesses would flock to these cities?”
Vanderbilt didn’t answer, contemplating the circle.
Astor raced over the lawn and began rearranging the croquet wickets so that they lined up in a new pattern. “And you wouldn’t have just one of these cities, but many of them. They’d be strategically located all over America and easily connected by roads or water or train.”
“ Cities aren’t built from scratch,” Vanderbilt plainly stated.
“ And that’s why they’re a mess. It’s time to build the great cities of the future, George. Cities that are designed for maximum efficiency. Cities that people would flock to because it gives them better lives. And the people who develop these cities would be remembered forever.”
“ And make money,” Vanderbilt said, as much to himself as to Astor.
“ That goes without saying.”
“ It’s a big project.”
“ The biggest.”
“ It’s all very interesting, I’ll give you that.” Vanderbilt looked over the rearranged croquet game one more time. “Very interesting.”
Astor rode home that evening elated. His role in life was finally clear. He was meeting his destiny: “Architect of the Future.” He kept turning that phrase over in his head. “Architect of the Future!”
In the seat next to Astor, Vincent was as aglow as his father, though for a very different reason. Chicken Little had pulled him into a hidden alcove just off the ballroom, pressed her mouth to his, parted her lips, slithered her tongue slowly into his mouth and presented him with the first great kiss of his life.
CHAPTER 7
T heodore Roosevelt’s ship anchored in Mombassa, East British Africa on April 18, 1909. With him were his son Kermit and seven other expedition members. They were accompanied by 250 guides and porters who, for ten months, would haul six tons
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