At eight o’clock Sunday night, Cliff and his twenty-two-year-old nephew Jack are speaking quietly in the lobby of the Queen City Hotel. Jack’s speech has that harsh Virginia drawl that Cliff spent so many years trying to soften. He notes that Jack looks more like his Uncle Art than his father Matt, with a faint resemblance to the old man for whom he was named. In fact, all the men on that side of the family look like Captain Jack.
Cliff asks, “Is your room ok?”
“Yessir. I even got me a small bar.”
“Good, but that’s not why you’re here.”
“Heck, I know that, Uncle Cliff, but a fellow’s got to unwind sometimes.”
“You’ve got an interview tomorrow morning at nine with Charles Winters. He’s program director of WCIN-TV, the big station here in town.”
“Super! Pop said you’d come through.”
“I arranged the interview. The rest is up to you. Winters is a good man, a friend. Just let him get to know what a bright guy you are.”
“I can do that.”
“After the interview, call me at my office and we’ll have lunch. Maybe Sally will join us.”
“Dang, it’ll be fun to see your pretty daughter again.”
“Good luck with the interview, Jack, and lose the ‘dang’.”
At five to nine Monday morning, Jack Walker is dressed in his best blue suit and ready for his interview. He wants a job, not the kind of two-bit job he left Watertown to escape but the kind of high-grade job he knew his talent and dreams expected, the kind of job that his father promised Uncle Cliff would deliver; if not Uncle Cliff, then Uncle Lew in New York. He wants what they call up here in the north, class, style. Family stands for something, and that something is now waiting beyond the door marked Charles Winters, Program Director. Jack, carrying a small black portfolio under his arm, knocks and enters the plush, mahogany world of big-time television.
“Come in, Mr. Walker,” says Winters as he extends his manicured hand and directs Jack to the suite of red leather chairs by the large window overlooking the river.
“Right pretty view,” says Jack.
“Yes, it took a lot of years to earn that view.”
“I’m in no rush,” says Jack, “so long as I know I’m on the right road.”
“What road is that?”
“The one that leads to the kind of success that…” Jack hesitates.
“That what?”
Jack sweeps his hand toward the window. “One that leads to this kind of view.”
Winters smiles. “Your Uncle Cliff said that you are an ambitious young man.”
“I am. I didn’t come up here to the big city for anything less than the best there is. Anything wrong with that, sir?”
"No indeed. Not as long as you’re willing to work for it.”
“When do I start?”
“Not so fast, young man. How creative are you? Can you write?”
“Yessir.” He opens his portfolio and displays samples of the work he had done at the small tv station at home.
Winters studies Jack’s tv commercials and a few of his program proposals. “This, as I would expect, is small market stuff, and though I can see some talent here, perhaps some promise, I wonder if you’re ready for the kind of sophisticated stuff we do here.”
“Try me.”
Winters, a handsome man, slightly gray, in a tailored gray flannel suit, walks to his desk, opens a small wooden box, removes a filter cigarette and lights it.
“Ok, Jack, suppose I give you a simple production assignment. This is Monday--work at home and come back Friday to show me what you can do.”
“Thanks!” says Jack. “May I see your production facilities first?”
“I’ll have my assistant give you a tour.” Winters dials the phone and says, “Dick, come to my office, please.”
Ten minutes later, Dick Hastings is leading Jack through the station’s program facilities on the first floor. Jack is impressed.
“They’ve never seen anything like this down in Watertown,” he says. “But it’s just what I expected. Big time.”
“Of course, producing a tv show is complicated, requires a lot of planning, preparation, and many skills. Most news shows and talk shows are live, with edited tape segments. Most of todays tv programs, such as local documentaries, are prerecorded on tape. The guy in charge is the producer, who may also be the director. But the key is the script.”
“Oh, I know how it works,” says Jack.
After the tour, Dick says, “Take these scripts with you. Use them as a guide for the kind of work you’d be expected to do here. Remember, everything begins with the script.”
“You bet,” says Jack. “Do you want a storyboard?”
“Yes, but make it rough.”
“I’ll do my best to slip in some dissolves and digital effects.”
“Don’t worry too much about the technical stuff. Mr. Winters wants to know how your mind works, how you think. If he likes what you do, with no real experience, he’ll probably give you another assignment. And if he likes that--”
“I get the job.”
Dick chuckles. “First, let’s see how good you are.”
“I won’t let you down.”
They shake hands and Jack Walker leaves with the certainty that he’s on his way.
Cliff, Jack, and Sally are in a booth at the Rhineland Restaurant, famous for authentic German cuisine. Jack is obviously proud of how well the interview went with Charles Winters. He tells Cliff about the tour of the programming and production facilities.
“He also gave me a job to work on here at the hotel, then return to him on Friday morning.”
“Think you can handle it?”
“Yeah, his assistant, Dick Hastings, gave me some sample scripts to study. And I’ve got my electric typewriter.”
“Good luck,” says Sally.
“Gee, Sally, you’re even prettier than the last time I saw you.”
“It’s this Cincinnati air.”
“And the young man she’s seeing,” says Cliff.
“A love interest?”
“Let’s say that we’re good friends. Maybe you’ll meet him if you come to dinner this weekend.”
“Ok, we can celebrate my new job.”
“Don’t rush it, Jack,” says Cliff. “You’ve got to prove yourself first.”
“No problem.”
“Jack, I like your confidence,” says Sally.
“It’s a Walker thing. Uncle Cliff has it, and I’ll bet Uncle Lewis has it too.”
“In abundance,” says Cliff,” Lew will be starring on Broadway in a few months.”
“I’ll be darn. No kidding? Broadway? I’d sure like to be there.”
“First, let’s see what happens here.”
Over lunch, Jack brings Cliff and Sally up to date on the family in Watertown. Cliff attempts to be interested but would rather talk about something else. He tries to change the topic, but Jack goes on about his father’s lumber mill, Uncle Art’s restaurant (“best doggone seafood in town”), Uncle Frank’s new Mercedes, the new City Hall that looks like a stack of big building blocks, the space museum.
“Uncle Cliff, you wouldn’t know the old town. No more oyster boats stinking up the harbor. Nothing but pleasure boats. Only one crab factory left. All the old streets that you remember are gone. A new city college. Captain Jack’s old place is now a fancy hotel. Watertown is moving up. You have to see it to believe it.”
“No thanks, I’m happy here.”
“We even have integrated schools now. Yeah, the coloreds can go anywhere we go. Shoot, we can’t even use the beach no more.”
“I wouldn’t talk like that in Cincinnati,” says Sally.
“Also, as I mentioned earlier,” says Cliff, “do something about the way you talk.”
“Yeah, well, some folks like the way I talk, ‘specially the girls. But I guess things are a lot different up here, bigger than Watertown, but it’s no New York.”
“And no Chicago,” says Cliff.
“Or San Francisco,” says Sally.
“But it’s home.”
“No, Uncle Cliff, Watertown is home.”
“Let’s change the subject,” says Sally.
Cliff suggests another round of beer.
“Good idea,” says Jack. “I’ve never tasted real German beer before.”
“It’ll knock you off your feet if you’re not careful.”
“Don’t your worry none about me, Uncle Cliff.” He turns to Sally. “Maybe you could show me the Cincinnati sights some night.”
“Cincinnati is better seen in daylight. Judd and I would be glad to give you the first class tour.”
“Heck, I was hoping it would be just me and you.”
Cliff hails the waiter. “Let’s forget the beer. Jack, you’ve got work to do.”
“Right. Know any pretty girls I can meet?”
“The town’s loaded with them,” says Cliff, “when you get settled.”
“Hot damn.”
After they drop Jack off at the hotel, Cliff shifts the car into gear and heads home.
“That young man might be trouble,” he says.
“Don’t worry about me, Dad. I’ve already got the only Watertown man I want in my life.”
“Ex-Watertown man. What about Lew?”
“Yes, him too.”
Cliff laughs. “You’ve got good taste, Sally.”
She kisses her father on the cheek.
“Hey, you don’t want me to run into another tree, do you?”
“Once is enough, Dad. “Let’s go home and listen to some rock and roll.”
“What, no Sinatra?”
“Who’s he?”
End
