1900 Chicago was a very far cry from the world of territorial Oklahoma indeed! Rising upwards and in motley congestion on the banks of lake Michigan, it was a crowded, smelly, yet amazing place. Alexander French just thought of it as home, and wouldn’t have dreamt of living anywhere else.
He worked for Swift and Company, who ran their stockyards on the south side of the city, along with Armour and others. But he rarely even visited those stockyards, which were horrid abattoirs of animal killing; hog, beef, and sheep. He concentrated on numbers, and on profits from those animals, and had a fashionable office downtown, in the first high-rise building in the world- The Home Insurance Building. It had an amazing 10 stories of height, and he had his office on the top floor!
Still a young man, he lived on the fashionable Gold Coast on Chicago’s near north side, in a beautiful stone row house of large proportions. A dandy, he was walking downtown on this beautiful day to his office, as the horses and carts trundled by down the crowded streets, using his cane to speed him along. A straw hat kept him sheltered from the hot sun, and he was smoking a candela cheroot as he strode along.
Just outside of his office in the Home Insurance Building, he was surprised to run into his employer, Gustavus Swift! A tall, white haired man with a beard, Gustavus was an imposing figure; besides being Alexander’s employer, he was one of the very richest men in Chicago, and the entire world. He peered at Alexander from under his own hat brim.
“I came up here specifically to task you with an important mission.” He was always direct, and to the point. “I need you to go out west, to Oklahoma territory to be exact.
This was the opposite of Alexander’s natural inclinations, as a dandified city dweller, the West was anathema to him! But, as a skilled politician/businessman, he hid his true feelings well. He smiled tentatively, and his boss Gustavus smiled a rare, brief smile in return. Then, he said just what Alexander did not want to hear: “Leave tonight!”
And so it happened that Alexander French was riding on the train out of Union Station in Chicago towards Kansas City, Missouri that very night. He had been told to meet with an important cattle supplier in Oklahoma territory, and was anticipating with horror a stage coach ride lasting for days from Kansas City to the Dorian area to meet with a Judge Menelaus, who was a major cattle supplier for the Swift company; to whom he was to ingratiate himself, and actually sell him on supplying his cattle, already slaughtered out there, and then sent back to Chicago in the new-fangled refrigerated freight cars that Swift had developed.
It really was a genius idea, and would save quite a bit on shipping costs to have meat, rather than live animals shipped back East… it was just this trip. Alexander French hated anything rustic, anything that he thought of as primitive.
And so, as the train rocked and rattled through the long night, he uneasily slumbered, sitting in his wooden-backed rail car seat. He took a number of trips into the dining car, where he could numb his discomfort with whiskeys. It helped, but not much.
Meanwhile, Adam Memnon had unsaddled his horse, and was walking into the ranch house with his boss, Judge Menelaus. It should have been a happy day for him; it certainly was for the judge, who was talking a mile-a-minute about how they had saved his girlfriend and her parents, thanks mainly to the great warrior AK Lee!
As the judge rattled on, in high spirits about the huge death toll, the normally happy Adam silently fumed. AK Lee, his hero until that day, had shown him up! And in front of Chris Seis too…
The two walked into the house, where the judge had suggested they have a drink or two, and tell Helen of the day’s adventures. The normally happy-go-lucky Adam was too silent, and at length even the self-absorbed judge noticed.
“What’s wrong with you, Adam?” he asked at last. “You are not yourself tonight.” He was concerned, a fatherly concern, since he was 30 years Adam’s senior.
“Well, it’s just that AK! Why does he have to- well- what makes him so great?!”
The judge stopped still, and laughed outright. “What makes him so great?” he chortled his old man laugh through his graying beard. “Because he’s the best warrior anyone has ever seen, that’s what!”
Still laughing, he pushed open the door to his home, while young Adam followed him into the spotless western kitchen, with its cast iron cookstove, and black iron pans hung about it. And standing there, in her prairie woman skirt against a completely rustic backdrop, stood the most radiant woman Adam, or anyone else, had ever seen!
Though he had seen her many times, she always took his breath away. She did that to anyone who saw her, and it never ceased to be a startling event. She was in her twenties, in her womanly prime, while her husband, Judge Menelaus, was easily in his fifties.
He glanced at the judge. Adam saw pure love and adoration suffuse his gray-bearded face, as he rushed to the side of his perfect wife. Adam looked on with a sort of interest like that of a scientist- she was almost too perfect; in fact, Adam Memnon felt no desire for her himself. She was beautiful, but almost like a perfect statue or painting; something too good for this world. Not really flesh and blood, more like a goddess.
“Welcome, Adam,” she said, in dulcet, musical tones. Her voice was cultured; definitely not of the wild west. Not like his Chris! Now she was a real woman! But with that thought, he instantly remembered his jealousy, how his betrothed had fawned over AK Lee. He knew it was crazy, but he couldn’t stop himself.
It should have been a wonderful evening, and it actually was, as long as Adam could stop himself from thinking about his girl. Helen tended to them beautifully, bringing them brandies and then remaining to chat, listening to their stories of the battle and the day’s events with undisguised interest. The judge and Adam smoked their cigars in front of the fireplace, drinking as the judge told every detail of the exploits of AK Lee, which only inflamed Adam all the more in his jealousy.
Helen looked at Adam, and when the tale had concluded, spoke to him with concern. “Chris Seis is a lovely, wonderful girl, Adam! Marry her soon- you don’t want anyone taking her away from you.”
Thinking of AK Lee, Adam just frowned, and said he had go to the bunkhouse for bed.
It had seemed like forever, but at last Alexander French had made it to the Oklahoma territory! From the first high-rise modern building in the world, he had traveled to the Wild West of Oklahoma, which was not even a state in the United States of America. He saw nothing out here he liked, except the possibility of profit- which, for a dandy like himself, who loved money and all it could buy- well, that was enough.
He found a coach that would take him out to the ranch of Judge Menelaus, and so he found himself rattling along down a dry, dusty path to the middle of nowhere. The driver, who was a loquacious fellow, talked on at length about the greatness of the judge, and how just the other day he had exterminated a bunch of low-down Injuns with AK Lee- but at some point, Alexander just tuned him out. ‘The sooner I get him signed up on this cattle deal, the sooner I can get back to city life!’ is what he was thinking.
With that thought came the vision of his current paramour, the lovely Rebecca, who had been courting back in Chicago. ‘Oh Rebecca,’ he thought, ‘what I would give to see you again!’ So he ruminated, until the rustic coach rumbled up to the stately log ranch house of Judge and ranch boss Menelaus.
Alexander jumped down, and after paying the driver ‘to leave and stop talking at last’ he thought, he walked up to the huge log doorway. He was about to knock, when the door swung open, and he saw what was the most important, amazing, and exciting vision of his entire life! Rebecca was instantly gone, swept from his mind, never to return.
There before him stood Helen.
Now, it was as if they had both been frozen in place. They just stared at one another, as if hypnotized. Helen, as you know, was a perfect woman, at least physically. She glowed, she shone, she sparkled like a goddess!
Alexander French was a dandy. He was anything but a man’s man- he was a citified pretty boy, to be exact. From his waxed pencil mustache, to his perfectly coiffed and oiled hair, he was just what was featured in the magazines of 1900 USA as the ideal of cultured manhood. The type of man who women doted on, and that men decidedly did not.
That’s when the judge Menelaus strode up, thrusting out his big hand to Alexander. He grinned. “So nice to meet you, Mr. French! I know it has been a long trip, how about a drink?”
As the two men settled down in the spacious, high-ceilinged living room next to the crackling fireplace, Helen entered that room carrying two large glass tumblers filled with brandy. In spite of himself, Alexander could hardly take his eyes off of her, although he did manage to keep up his end of the conversation with the judge.
Judge Menelaus even smiled slightly in acknowledgement; he was used to men and women too simply gawking at his wife. He knew that he certainly had, and had sworn to obtain her for his wife upon their very first meeting.
“So, I understand this proposal of the Swift meat packing company is to drive the cattle for slaughter over to Kansas, next to the railway line there. Then, your employer will ship the dressed meat back east, to Chicago and even further eventually,” said Judge Menelaus, peering within his glass to see how much he had left. He indicated to Helen that he needed a refill.
“Exactly,” replied Alexander French smoothly, as he took a delicate sip of the brandy. He was not much of a drinker, preferring port or sherry to hard liquor. “And I’m sure you can see the incredible profit potential of not having to drive the cattle all the way to market, and then shipping the live beasts before slaughter in Chicago. The whole civilized eastern cities are a vast market, all reachable by my- well our new refrigerated rail cars!” He smiled with even white teeth, and stroked his mustache as Helen glided by, refilling her husband’s empty glass. He spoke to the judge, but his smile was fully shown on Helen. She blushed as she poured.
The judge didn’t notice, he was totally taken with the idea of the incredible profits that were dangling before him! He could double, triple, and vastly expand the size of his operation, selling beef in quantities nearly limitless. His eyes glowed with cupidity the more he thought, and a large smile emerged on his rough-featured, gray bearded face.
“Well, Mr. French, we’ll have to talk to my attorney tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure that you and Mr. Swift will have a deal with me that will make us both very wealthy indeed!” He stood then, walking over to rest his booted foot on the hearth, seeming to see his future wealth within the flames. Draining his glass, he gestured again to his wife for a refill.
As she passed close by Alexander French, she looked down upon him with a smile that was just radiant. Alexander smiled back, as if he was intoxicated, and he was- just not with alcohol, as his drink was barely touched. He was overwhelmed, but not with the deal either.
“Mr. French,” said the judge then, holding out his glass for another refill, “I believe we will become great friends, for what better cements a friendship than the founding of a very profitable business venture?”
He had no idea just how wrong he was.
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