(1988) The Golden Room Read Online Free
Author: Irving Wallace
squeezed into a vacant tenth-row seat with difficulty. He was grossly overweight, with his belly and sides bulging over his belt. He scratched his potato nose and his walrus moustache impatiently as he waited for the speaker to appear.
Ordinarily, Armbruster had no particular interest in politics. He was perfectly aware that Mayor Carter H. Harrison, a Democrat, was running for reelection against a popular Republican named Graeme Stewart. Only one facet of the campaign interested Armbruster, and that was Harrison’s promise to enlarge the stockyards and spend more money on freight trains to carry more pigs, sheep, and steers into Chicago. His rival, Stewart, was against such civic expenditures.
Armbruster’s presence at the lecture, despite his discomfort, was meant to provide him with first-hand reassurance that Mayor Harrison was the man who deserved his support and contributions.
After waiting restlessly for ten minutes, Armbruster saw an alderman he knew slightly appear on the platform to introduce the principal speaker. ‘Chicago is fortunate in having a mayor who keeps his hands in his own pockets,’ the alderman quipped. This drew a round of laughter, and then the alderman announced, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honour and a privilege to introduce Mayor Carter H. Harrison.’ Most of the audience broke into hearty applause.
Immediately, Mayor Harrison came out of the wings and strode to the lectern. Over the years Armbruster had seen Harrison many times, but always from a distance at social events or he had noticed his picture in the newspapers. Armbruster had never seen the mayor this closely, and as he observed him, he was pleased with what he saw: a sturdy, darkly handsome man with black hair neatly parted on the side, flashing eyes, and a moustache similar to Armbruster’s own, but tidier. Harrison was immaculately attired in a celluloid collar and bow tie, white shirt, navy-blue jacket over a vest and watch-chain, and sharply pressed darkish-grey trousers.
Once Harrison began speaking, Armbruster’s attention drifted off. The packing-house magnate had come to hear Harrison address Armbruster’s own interests, but instead Harrison was speaking passionately about his determination to clean up Chicago, and close down the Levee and its gambling houses and bagnios. Armbruster had no interest in this nonsense. He filtered the mayor out as his mind wandered to business matters. It was at the very end of the speech that Armbruster again became alert.
Besides his desire to clean up the city, the mayor was offering a few words about making Chicago more prosperous, adding elevated trains and extending freight transportation into the stockyards.
When Harrison’s appeal had ended, the audience was invited to line up and, in turn, shake the mayor’s hand. A long line immediately formed.
Armbruster remained squeezed into his seat, wondering what to do. Then he realized that he very much wanted Harrison elected, and he knew what he should do.
He waited restlessly for the line of well-wishers to shrink, and finally he heaved himself up and took his place as the last in line. It was half an hour before he reached the stage. He inched ahead until he was able to shake hands with the mayor.
Facing Harrison, he gripped the mayor’s limp hand and blurted, ‘I’ve wanted to meet you. I’m Harold T. Armbruster, the meat-packer -‘
Harrison’s hand tightened on Armbruster’s. The mayor beamed. ‘At last,’ he said. ‘Armour, Swift, Armbruster. I’ve always wanted to know you, and I’m honoured you came to hear my little speech.’
‘The honour is mine,’ replied Armbruster. ‘Most impressive, your speech. I’m on your side, and now I want to be a backer.’
‘A backer?’
‘I want to do everything in my power to see that you are elected again. What’s the most effective way I can support you, Mayor?’
Harrison stared at the meat-packer. ‘Well, I suppose I should be honest with
Ordinarily, Armbruster had no particular interest in politics. He was perfectly aware that Mayor Carter H. Harrison, a Democrat, was running for reelection against a popular Republican named Graeme Stewart. Only one facet of the campaign interested Armbruster, and that was Harrison’s promise to enlarge the stockyards and spend more money on freight trains to carry more pigs, sheep, and steers into Chicago. His rival, Stewart, was against such civic expenditures.
Armbruster’s presence at the lecture, despite his discomfort, was meant to provide him with first-hand reassurance that Mayor Harrison was the man who deserved his support and contributions.
After waiting restlessly for ten minutes, Armbruster saw an alderman he knew slightly appear on the platform to introduce the principal speaker. ‘Chicago is fortunate in having a mayor who keeps his hands in his own pockets,’ the alderman quipped. This drew a round of laughter, and then the alderman announced, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honour and a privilege to introduce Mayor Carter H. Harrison.’ Most of the audience broke into hearty applause.
Immediately, Mayor Harrison came out of the wings and strode to the lectern. Over the years Armbruster had seen Harrison many times, but always from a distance at social events or he had noticed his picture in the newspapers. Armbruster had never seen the mayor this closely, and as he observed him, he was pleased with what he saw: a sturdy, darkly handsome man with black hair neatly parted on the side, flashing eyes, and a moustache similar to Armbruster’s own, but tidier. Harrison was immaculately attired in a celluloid collar and bow tie, white shirt, navy-blue jacket over a vest and watch-chain, and sharply pressed darkish-grey trousers.
Once Harrison began speaking, Armbruster’s attention drifted off. The packing-house magnate had come to hear Harrison address Armbruster’s own interests, but instead Harrison was speaking passionately about his determination to clean up Chicago, and close down the Levee and its gambling houses and bagnios. Armbruster had no interest in this nonsense. He filtered the mayor out as his mind wandered to business matters. It was at the very end of the speech that Armbruster again became alert.
Besides his desire to clean up the city, the mayor was offering a few words about making Chicago more prosperous, adding elevated trains and extending freight transportation into the stockyards.
When Harrison’s appeal had ended, the audience was invited to line up and, in turn, shake the mayor’s hand. A long line immediately formed.
Armbruster remained squeezed into his seat, wondering what to do. Then he realized that he very much wanted Harrison elected, and he knew what he should do.
He waited restlessly for the line of well-wishers to shrink, and finally he heaved himself up and took his place as the last in line. It was half an hour before he reached the stage. He inched ahead until he was able to shake hands with the mayor.
Facing Harrison, he gripped the mayor’s limp hand and blurted, ‘I’ve wanted to meet you. I’m Harold T. Armbruster, the meat-packer -‘
Harrison’s hand tightened on Armbruster’s. The mayor beamed. ‘At last,’ he said. ‘Armour, Swift, Armbruster. I’ve always wanted to know you, and I’m honoured you came to hear my little speech.’
‘The honour is mine,’ replied Armbruster. ‘Most impressive, your speech. I’m on your side, and now I want to be a backer.’
‘A backer?’
‘I want to do everything in my power to see that you are elected again. What’s the most effective way I can support you, Mayor?’
Harrison stared at the meat-packer. ‘Well, I suppose I should be honest with
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