Robert Eidenbaugh and his friend shared a brotherhood of vocational anguish. Van Duyne had trust funds sufficient to fall into a sultan’s leisure, but, as he put it, “things aren’t done that way in my family.” Nonetheless, his restlessness led him to leaving peculiar telephone messages (call Mr. Lyon at Schuyler 8-3938-which of course turned out to be the Central Park Zoo) for his associates and, once, after a particularly arid day, distributing dry ice in the Morgan Guaranty urinals. He was becoming, he’d said, “rather too trying at the bank.” But, until Robert met him on Sunday morning, he had evidently seen no way through the briar patch of the Family Obligations.
At Schrafft’s, however, his ears were bright red and he could barely sit still, buttering rolls and slurping coffee like a Chaplin machine gone mad. Robert honored his mood as long as he could, but at last curiosity forced him to pry. The answer surprised him. Van Duyne was evasive, and offered only a partial explanation.
He was leaving Morgan, had been for weeks on the trail of something that-he could hardly believe it-had actually come from the family. They had taken pity on him at last and, when the proposition had been put, he’d leapt at the chance. “I’m too young to dry up and blow away,” he said when the eggs arrived, “and that’s an old Van Duyne tradition, unfortunately. We have a tendency to
Breakfast over, they walked through the stiff wind off the Hudson to Riverside Drive and there took a bus north toward the Polo Grounds. It was a bright, frigid day, December 7, and by the time they boarded the bus their eyes were teary from the cold. They got off at 145 th Street and walked east toward Coogan’s Bluff.
From the point of view of the Giant fans, it wasn’t a very satisfying game. The packed crowds, wrapped up in overcoats and mufflers, their breaths visible in the winter air, groaned more than they cheered. Tuffy Leemans, the Giants’ fullback on offense and halfback on defense, their most productive running back, was having a difficult day with the Dodger defensive line, and the fleet Ward Cuff seemed unable to hold the forward passes thrown him. Meanwhile, Ace Parker, the Dodger tailback and safety, was on target all through the first quarter, while Pug Manders was ripping through large holes in the Giant defensive scheme. Late in the first quarter, with the score tied
The effect of the message on Van Duyne was extraordinary. He sat dead still in his seat, and for a moment Robert thought something was wrong with him. Then he scrabbled at the pocket of his fur-collared overcoat, produced a silver flask, and took an extended swig, passing the comfort on to Robert, who discovered himself with a mouthful of excellent Scotch whisky.
“Well, what is it?” Robert said. “Have you bet the family bonds on the Giants?”
Van Duyne shook his head.
“Then what is it, Andy?”
“I’m not sure. Something important, I’ll tell you that.”
“The announcement?”
“Yes.”
Pug Manders crashed over the Giant middle guard for a touchdown. The Dodger fans roared their approval.
“Now look here, Van Duyne, either tell me what’s going on or sit back and watch the game. I feel like a character in a Phillips Oppenheim novel.”
Van Duyne swiveled toward him, oblivious to the crowd rising for the Dodger kickoff. “Robert, I may be able to do something for you, especially if it’s all gone mad in Europe-something to do with our being in the war, at last.”
“Ah-ha!” Robert said. “You’re going to Canada to get into the fighting.”
“No, it isn’t that. But how would you feel about leaving Thompson, doing something completely different?”
Robert stared into his friend’s eyes through the thick spectacles and saw that he was serious. “No pranks?” he asked, always a little leery of Van Duyne’s elaborate ruses.
“No pranks. On my honor.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m your man.”
“It could be dangerous.”
“No more so than Mr. Drowne.”
“Not kidding, Bob.”
“Nor am I,” he said. “Believe me, Andy, I’m ready for something-how did you put it? — ‘completely different.’ “
“I can,” Van Duyne said, “pretty well promise you that.”MEMORANDUM'
April 19, 1942
TO: Lt. Col. H. V Rossell
Office of the Coordinator of Information Room 29
National Institute of Health Washington, D.C.
FROM: Agatha Hamilton
Office of Recruiting-COI 270 Madison Ave. New York, New York
SUBJECT: Robert F. Eidenbaugh
In an interview arranged by my friend, Mr. Carter Delius, Vice President for Personnel, the J. Walter Thompson Company, on March 30, I spent over two hours with Mr. L. L. Drowne, copy chief, in my capacity as Member of the Board, the Manhattan Eye and Ear Hospital. I told Mr. Drowne that the hospital fund-raising committee was seeking a professional copywriter to aid in its fall campaign to build a new wing for the hospital. He mentioned several other candidates before the name of Mr. Eidenbaugh (hereafter RFE) was brought up. Mr. Drowne seems to like him well enough, though he does not believe that RFE will make much of a mark in advertising. Subject was described as “completely honest” and “extremely bright,” but “very much a self-starter.” My overall impression was that RFE’s heart isn’t much in the Thompson company-they like him, but are not really sure what to do with him.
On April 3, as the parent of a prospective student, I visited the Brearley School and contrived to interview Mary Ellen Walker, RFE’s fiancee, who teaches Fourth Form (10 th grade) English and History and assists in the coaching of the field hockey team. I came on as quite the “Bolshy heiress,” though her sympathies clearly do not lie in this direction. She was very polite about it all, representing the school as “more than fair to all sorts of girls, from all sorts of families.” Appearing to be charmed by her (I was not, in fact), I asked a few personal questions. Miss Walker perceives RFE as brilliant and dashing, though not yet situated in a position appropriate to his abilities. I would guess that, following marriage, she has plans to situate him in the family business.
An April 7 digest of reports (Attachment “A”) is enclosed, including credit reports from the following: Consolidated Edison, Chemical Bank and Trust, Sheffield Dairies, Joseph Silverman, D.D.S., and the 414 West 74 th Street Management Company. Also appended (Attachment “B”), RFE’s Columbia University transcript and letters of recommendation. (See esp. Professor Horace Newell, Department of English, who praises RFE’s intelligence and ability and mentions a tendency “to stay somewhat in the background.”)
On April 14 RFE attended a party, given at my behest by Mrs. Cleveland Van Duyne, at her apartment at 1085 Park Avenue. I was accompanied by my friend,
