I hope you enjoy it.
The Boardwalk
Sailboats
cut across the harbor searching for the adventure of the open sea as families frolicked
on the sand of the beach. Uriah Meigs leaned on the rail and gazed across the
harbor at the boardwalk on the other side. He could hear the various sounds of
summertime mirth as the New England sun glowed on the brim of his Panama hat.
He
was out of his element.
He
was surrounded by New England Yankees. His own life experiences added to the
stories his grandfather had told him from The War left him distrustful of
everyone he saw. The sight of the sea often stirred the memories of a boat
voyage that transported him to his own war in Europe. The physical scars from
that conflict were healing. He doubted the mental scars ever would.
He
pulled out his heirloom pocket watch. The Seal of the State of Georgia on the
hunter case cover wasn’t likely to expose him as a foreigner in a strange land.
The seersucker suit was already accomplishing that goal. He was checking the
time, hoping to discover that the man he was waiting to meet was running late.
Really he was looking for anything negative about the man to justify the
contempt that he held in his heart for a man he had never met. Poor manners,
sloppy dress, disregard for punctuality, anything that might excuse him from
passing judgment on a man based solely on where he was from.
“You
must be Uriah Meigs.”
Uriah
looked up from his watch with a start. He found himself face-to-face with a man
wearing a straw boater and a neatly tailored suit. He was precisely five
minutes early.
“I
do hope I’m not running late.” The man continued, “The young man that was
shining my shoes took a little longer than I suspected. I’m Elias Athern.” The
man offered a handshake that seemed to wake Uriah from a trance.
Uriah
closed his watch and accepted the handshake, trying to recover his own manners,
“I am Uriah Meigs. I suppose I’m not very good at blending into this crowd.
Uriah’s
mood wasn’t very cordial. The greeting was not like two old friends meeting on
the dock after a long journey. It was the greeting of two strangers brought
together by the necessity of business. But such an interaction was not typical
of Uriah’s business dealings. He believed in friendly negotiations and cordial
dealings. But his prejudice was being aggravated by his inability to find a
flaw in his opponent. Opponent. He had never entered into a negotiation with an
opponent. He was not off to a good start.
Elias suggested that Uriah accompany him to his billiard room over on
the boardwalk, suggesting it as a better place to continue negotiations. As the
two men walked around the harbor, Elias attempted to engage in small talk. But
Uriah remained cold and distant. They arrived at one of the taller structures
along the boardwalk and entered a narrow door beside a haberdashery and went up
two fights of steps.
Elias
unlocked a door and the two men stepped inside. The darkened room was not
imposing. There were likely fancier rooms in on the three floors above this
one. Elias turned on a lamp and then Uriah was able to see the paneled walls
and leather furniture. There was a billiards table in the middle of the room.
It was surrounded by leather furniture and a few book cases. Uriah noted that
the books on the shelves appeared to be quality volumes – many were leather
bound with gold leaf on the spines. He tried to hide the fact that he was quite
impressed with the room.
Elias
pulled a set of heavy drapes and then opened a set of French doors they had
concealed. The doors led out to a small balcony that overlooked the harbor. The
sunlight further illuminated the room and the salty breeze was refreshing in
the stuffy room. “A little fresh air,” Elias announced, “a welcome thing on
such a hot day.”
Uriah
smiled. If the New England heat had been the least bit uncomfortable to hi, he
would have never admitted it.
Elias
was growing troubled at Uriah’s disposition. He had been told about Uriah’s
pleasant personality and hoped it would lead to a friendly negotiation with
beneficial outcomes for both men. He walked over to a table in the corner. He
produced two glasses of ice and a brown bottle that Uriah found somewhat
familiar. “Perhaps this will help us open our negotiations.” Elias poured a
brown liquid over the ice and offered one to Uriah before taking a sip from his
own.
Uriah
watched him take the first sip as if he was fearful that his glass might be
poisoned. He then raised the glass to his mouth and felt the rush of surprise.
The man was well-dressed, on time, quite polite, a collector of good books, and
was now serving him fantastic bourbon. The animosity was growing from his own
disappointment.
“You didn't expect me to settle for some nasty rot gut just because of the Volstead
Act, did you? This was brought to me from the backwoods of Kentucky by an old
friend of yours. Mr. Thibodaux spoke quite highly of you.”
Thibodaux
was an old war buddy. He had been a captain of a company of Louisiana troops.
He and Uriah had saved each other’s necks more than once. Needless to say, the
captain’s opinion meant a lot to Uriah. “He is a good friend. And he has
impeccable taste in bourbon.”
“He
spoke very highly of you.” Elias seemed to be choosing his words. “I have to
say I was expecting a little warmer conversation. I hope I haven’t offended you
somehow.”
Uriah
took another sip of the bourbon and then responded, “You've been a most gracious
host but I have to be honest, Mr. Athern, I’m not very fond of Yankees.”
Elias
set his glass on the table with a bit of disgust, “Has it occurred to you, Mr.
Meigs, descendant of the Georgia Delegation, complete with pocket watch, that
Yankees are not very fond of you?”
The
words hit Uriah hard. It wasn't the words per se, as he had never particularly
cared what Yankees thought of him. No, what was bothering him was the fact that
he had made judgments against this man before meeting him and then when he
proved to be better than the initial judgment, Uriah had added that blame to
the man as well, fueling further animosity. And then, possibly more
troublesome, he had been ungrateful to his host. In that moment he could clearly
hear the voice of his late grandmother, “Uriah Colquitt Meigs!” The middle name
coming from her mouth was always an indicator of the gravity of the infraction,
“Do not be so common! You act like you've got some sort of raisin’ about you.
Use your manners.”
“Mr.
Athern, I’m afraid I must beg your pardon. You have been most hospitable and,
in return, I have been quite an ingrate. I hope that you will forgive my
rudeness.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a delicate package
and began to unwrap it. “I hope this will be a more appropriate way to begin
our discussion. As he folded back the package, he revealed two exquisite
cigars. These are straight from the Confederate port of Havana from a man that
I’m sure you’ve never met before. His sister rolled these herself and I’m sure
you’ll never find a better cigar anywhere in the world.” He then offered one of
the cigars to Elias.
Elias
took the cigar in this hand. He held it horizontally as he sniffed along its length.
He seemed to be pleased with it so far. Uriah offered him his lit lighter and
Elias turned the cigar in his mouth to light it evenly. The aroma filled the
room and Elias smiled. He was quite pleased with the cigar.
Uriah
lit his own cigar and the two men discussed the cost and value of the cigars and
the bulk load of cured North Carolina tobacco – made without the use of slave
labor, making it highly marketable in New England. The ink was still drying on
the Bermuda Accord, a treaty that would finally allow trade between the two
American nations. Uriah had been sitting on a ship in the harbor waiting for
the news that the accord had been signed and that it was legal for him to come
ashore and meet with Elias. Uriah was not above smuggling but it was not an
option in this case.
Uriah
walked over to look out the French doors. “My grandfather had a place much like
this above River Street in Savannah. I remember sitting on a chair drinking
Coca-Cola and listening to him and
Generals Longstreet and Gordon tell war stories as the boats sailed past the
windows. I loved listening to their old tales and that place holds so many
memories.
Elias
walked over to the doors and looked out, placing his hands in his trouser
pockets. My Georgia war stories came from my grandfather and were about his
stay at Camp Sumter near Andersonville. I guess I’m not quite as nostalgic
about your state.”
“That’s
why you and I aren't making any progress.”
“So
if I’m to get a good price on my tobacco, I’m going to have to wax nostalgic
for Georgia?”
Uriah
shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. We’re having trouble negotiating
because we’re fighting our grandfathers’ war. A war that’s been over for over
60 years.”
Elias
nodded. “Our nations have a very precarious peace. It seems the accord opened
the door but until people agree to walk through it, nothing has really changed.”
Elias
walked over and refilled the bourbon glasses and then began to rack the balls
on the billiards table.
Uriah
chose a cue stick, “I know what this deal needs. I was in New Brunswick a year
or so ago and I had some real maple syrup at breakfast. Can you get me some of
that?”
Elias
was confused. “Right now?”
“No,”
Uriah laughed, “Like a lot of it. Like shipping a load back to Savannah with
me.’ He then sent the cue ball crashing into the triangle at the other end of
the table, sending the other balls scattering across the table.
Elias
smiled, “I can get you the best there is, straight from the mountains of
western Maine. It’ll make that New Brunswick stuff taste like tar. I can have
you a load by tomorrow.”
The
sound of the billiard balls on the table accompanied a jovial conversation
about Kentucky bourbon, Maine maple syrup, Cuban cigars, North Carolina
tobacco, and the game at hand. Uriah found that he and Elias had more in common
than he could have suspected and, as he had learned years ago in the trenches
of France and the cotton fields of South Georgia, people are individuals that
can’t be judged merely by the labels we assign them.
The
games would continue as the men grew more cordial and worked their way towards
a deal…or at least an understanding.
