Winter of the World

Roseroque Theatres was a chain of dilapidated movie houses in New York State. The owner was anything but decrepit. He had a patrician air: he was tall and white-haired, with a nose like a curved blade. He wore a blue cashmere blazer with the badge of the club on the breast pocket. Greg said: ‘I had the pleasure of watching your daughter, Joanne, play tennis on Saturday.’

Dave was pleased. ‘Pretty good, isn’t she?’

‘Very.’

Lev said: ‘I’m glad I ran into you, Dave – I was planning to call you.’

‘Why?’

‘Your theatres need remodelling. They’re very old-fashioned.’

Dave looked amused. ‘You were planning to call me to give me this news?’

‘Why don’t you do something about it?’

He shrugged elegantly. ‘Why bother? I’m making enough money. At my age, I don’t want the strain.’

‘You could double your profits.’

‘By raising ticket prices. No, thanks.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘Not everyone is obsessed with money,’ Dave said with a touch of disdain.

‘Then sell to me,’ Lev said.

Greg was surprised. He had not seen that coming.

‘I’ll give you a good price,’ Lev added.

Dave shook his head. ‘I like owning cinemas,’ he said. ‘They give people pleasure.’

‘Eight million dollars,’ Lev said.

Greg felt bemused. He thought: Did I just hear Father offer Dave eight million dollars?

‘That is a fair price,’ Dave admitted. ‘But I’m not selling.’

‘No one else will give you as much,’ Lev said with exasperation.

‘I know.’ Dave looked as if he had taken enough browbeating. He swallowed the rest of his drink. ‘Nice to see you both,’ he said, and he strolled out of the bar into the dining room.

Lev looked disgusted. ‘ “Not everyone is obsessed with money,” ’ he quoted. ‘Dave’s great-grandfather arrived here from Persia a hundred years ago with nothing but the clothes he wore and six rugs. He wouldn’t have turned down eight million dollars.’

‘I didn’t know you had that much money,’ Greg said.

‘I don’t, not in ready cash. That’s what banks are for.’

‘So you’d take out a loan to pay Dave?’

Lev raised his forefinger again. ‘Never use your own money when you can spend someone else’s.’

Gus Dewar walked in, a tall figure with a large head. He was in his mid-forties, and his light-brown hair was salted with silver. He greeted them with cool courtesy, shaking hands and offering them a drink. Greg saw immediately that Gus and Lev did not like one another. He feared that would mean Gus would not grant the favour Greg wanted to beg. Maybe he should give up the thought.

Gus was a big shot. His father had been a senator before him, a dynastic succession that Greg thought was un-American. Gus had helped Franklin Roosevelt become Governor of New York and then President. Now he was on the powerful Senate Foreign Relations Committee.

His sons, Woody and Chuck, went to the same school as Greg. Woody was brainy, Chuck was a sportsman.

Lev said: ‘Has the President told you to settle my strike, Senator?’

Gus smiled. ‘No – not yet, anyway.’

Lev turned to Greg. ‘Last time the foundry was on strike, twenty years ago, President Wilson sent Gus to browbeat me into giving the men a raise.’

‘I saved you money,’ Gus said mildly. ‘They were asking for a dollar – I made them take half that.’

‘Which was exactly fifty cents more than I intended to give.’

Gus smiled and shrugged. ‘Shall we have lunch?’

They went into the dining room. When they had ordered, Gus said: ‘The President was glad you could make it to the reception at the White House.’

‘I probably shouldn’t have taken Gladys,’ Lev said. ‘Mrs Roosevelt was a bit frosty with her. I guess she doesn’t approve of movie stars.’

She probably doesn’t approve of movie stars who sleep with married men, Greg thought, but he kept his mouth shut.

Gus made small talk while they ate. Greg looked for an opportunity to ask his favour. He wanted to work in Washington one summer, to learn the ropes and make contacts. His father might have been able to get him an internship, but it would have been with a Republican, and they were out of power. Greg wanted to work in the office of the influential and respected Senator Dewar, personal friend and ally of the President.

He asked himself why he was nervous about asking. The worst that could happen was that Dewar would say no.

When the dessert was finished, Gus got down to business. ‘The President has asked me to speak to you about the Liberty League,’ he said.

Greg had heard of this organization, a right-wing group opposed to the New Deal.

Lev lit a cigarette and blew out smoke. ‘We have to guard against creeping socialism.’

‘The New Deal is all that is saving us from the kind of nightmare they’re having in Germany.’

‘The Liberty League aren’t Nazis.’

‘Aren’t they? They have a plan for an armed insurrection to overthrow the President. It’s not realistic, of course – not yet, anyway.’

‘I believe I have a right to my opinions.’

‘Then you’re supporting the wrong people. The League is nothing to do with liberty, you know.’