A Drunk Never Lies

Dear Boo and Bubble,

In previous blogs, I’ve mentioned great granddaddy Schaefer’s best friend, Steve Stephenson.  Let me refresh a few details.  Schaefer and Steve met each other in high school during the Great Depression.  Steve’s father, Harry, became granddaddy’s surrogate father (See February blogpost “A Debt Paid Forward”), a relationship that lasted as such until Harry’s death.  The bond between the two boys grew strong enough to survive separation in college, law school and World War II.  Once the dust settled from the Great War, they returned to Greenville with their wives (See February blogpost “How I Met Your Mother”) and formed the law firm of Kendrick and Stephenson, a partnership that continued for over 40 years. 

They located their first office on the 13^th floor of the Woodside Building at 19 Main Street.  With 17 stories, the Woodside was Greenville’s tallest building and only “scraper” in the skyline.   I remember vividly the firm name on the crackle-glass window of the door to their suite….. and their tenacious secretary Miss Eunice …. and riding the elevator with granddaddy telling me to jump just as it approached their floor, giving me a momentary sensation of weightlessness followed by a great thud when my feet came back down.

Sometime in the 60’s, the firm moved to 408 N. Church Street, a strategic address on a main thoroughfare near the courthouse.  The building was poised on a knoll across from the massive Springwood Cemetery and right on the perimeter of an expanding downtown Greenville.  Granddaddy Schaefer loved the new space, especially his much enlarged office with built-in bookshelves and one entire wall that he covered with identical 11” X 14” wooden frames displaying pictures of our family.  No diplomas or honors, of which there were many.  Just pictures of him and Mamaw dressed up for a Cotillion; or Uncle Bryant rising high above a wide receiver to knock a pass from his grasp; or me in costume posed in an arabesque; or Uncle Gene in suit and tie as the president of the 8^th grade.

The new office also had a unique security alarm.  If someone opened the front door without deactivating it, a siren began to wail from the roof – very much like that of a patrol car.  The siren was loud enough that the drivers on N. Church Street could hear it and they automatically applied their brakes thinking that the police were coming.

Even though it drove Mamaw crazy, Bryant, Gene and I always begged Granddaddy to set off the alarm so we could watch the reaction on the street below.  He didn’t do it often, but when he did, we’d go into laughing fits while Mamaw had fits of a different kind.  Granddaddy always weaseled out by apologizing profusely and saying that he “thought he had already punched in the code.”

By this time, Kendrick and Stephenson had become one of the better known law firms in Greenville.  Their clients looked like a who’s who in banking and real estate and included many prominent businesses and individuals.  Among them was a renown family that owned and developed commercial property. They were in the process of building Greenville’s very first mall and Steve represented their interests in land acquisition, construction contracts and leasing agreements.

One of the family members, a female, had her own personal “renown.”  She was prone to drinking alcohol -  more than she should, especially late in the day.

One night, after the office had closed, Granddaddy Schaefer found himself alone trying to get some work completed.  He noticed a light blinking on his phone, indicating an incoming call.  Normally, the receptionist at the front desk would answer, but she had long gone.  The blinking persisted and Granddaddy, his concentration broken, pushed down the pestering button to answer.

“Kendrick and Stephenson,” he uttered automatically.

“Ish Shteve Shtephenson there?”  Heavy, belabored breathing came through the receiver.

Granddaddy immediately recognized her voice…..and her condition.  He neither wanted nor had the time to talk to her.

“Nope,” he said.

“Well…..ish Shhhaefer Kenderich there?”

“Nope,” he lied.

“Well…..who ish you?”

“Oh, I’m just the janitor.  I’m down here cleaning up the office.”  The lie grew.

There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line as she received this information and her marinated brain tried to process it.

      

“Well, let me shay one shing,” she began.  “You may not be ash shmart as Shteve Shtepenson……but, you’re a damn site shmarter than that Shhhaefer Kenderich.”

Having totally disavowed his existence, Granddaddy had no response and couldn’t defend his good name.  His mouth remained slack.

“Click.”  The phone went dead.

He put the receiver back down in its cradle.  I don’t think Granddaddy ever worked late at the office again.