'Why, a formal banquet, of course. I haven't worked it out yet, but -'
'That's it!' Armbruster exclaimed. 'Let me host the banquet with you. By happy coincidence, I'm preparing a big banquet of my own. My son Alan is engaged to a lovely Southern belle from Kentucky – Cathleen Lester, the niece of two socialites in Chicago. They will be married at my home about the time of Prince Henry's arrival. I should like to have Prince Henry attend the wedding and the banquet and ball to follow. At such a sentimental event he should be most responsive. I can draw him aside and bring up the ambassadorship. How does that strike you, Mayor?'
Mayor Harrison stood up, smiling broadly. 'I like it very much. It takes a great burden off my shoulders. I'm sure it can all be arranged, subject only to Prince Henry's approval. How's that?'
'Capital! Splendid!'
Shortly after lunch, Mayor Harrison summoned his immediate staff to a crucial meeting in his office.
Harrison lay back in the tall chair behind his desk, faced by a semi-circle of aides. The only woman in the room was the attractive young secretary, Karen Grant, whom he had hired several months before the election.
'It's about my major campaign promise,' Harrison began. 'I made many secondary promises to the public, and they will eventually be fulfilled. But my primary promise to the electorate, as you all know, was to introduce sweeping moral reforms in this city. All houses of ill repute in the Levee must be eliminated. Of these houses I focused on one in particular. I refer to the Everleigh Club. I am determined that the Everleigh Club must be my first target. The Everleigh Club is the one brothel known throughout the United States and Europe. I want to go after it immediately, shut it down, and prove to the voters that I meant what I said in my campaign. There is one problem.'
Harrison halted, opened his humidor, and extracted a cigar. He clipped one end, put the cigar in his mouth, and waited as one of his aides jumped forward to light it.
'Thank you, Evans,' the mayor said. He addressed the entire group once more. 'I have been informed that the Everleigh Club had been a full-fledged brothel, yet now the Everleigh sisters claim it is no longer a brothel. This information was conveyed to me early this morning. Miss Grant was in this office with me when the two aldermen from the First Ward so informed me.' Harrison turned to his secretary. 'Miss Grant, you have your notes at hand?'
'I do, Mayor.'
Karen Grant placed her note pad on the edge of the desk, picked a folder off the floor, and pulled out a sheet of paper.
'Read aloud what transpired,' Harrison instructed her.
Karen bent her head over the paper. 'Mayor Harrison met with Alderman John Coughlin and Alderman Michael Kenna, who stated that while they were supporters of the mayor, they were also long-time friends of Minna and Aida Ever-leigh. 'We must tell you, Mayor,' Alderman Coughlin said, 'that the Everleigh Club has mended its ways. It has given up prostitution. This was a direct result of your reform campaign. The Club has converted itself into a fancy restaurant -nothing else.' The mayor said, 'I happen to know there are thirty women in the Club. What are they doing there?' Alderman Coughlin replied, 'They are not prostitutes. They may have been at one time, but they are not prostitutes today. They are simply performers, dancers, singers, actresses, putting on a nightly floor show for restaurant diners.' Alderman Coughlin stated that the Everleighs reap their profits from their expensive restaurant, with its floor show and two orchestras. 'Since it is a legitimate restaurant, there would be no cause to shut it down,' Coughlin said. 'Alderman Kenna and I advise you to abandon the effort.' The mayor thanked his aldermen and dismissed them.'
Harrison puffed on his cigar, then turned his attention to his aides.
'Gentlemen,' Harrison resumed, 'I have thought about this information and I believe it to be false. I do not believe the Everleigh Club is merely a restaurant. I believe it continues to be a house of prostitution – the biggest, the richest, the most important one in our city – and I have every intention of proving that I am right and of shutting the brothel down. The one problem I am faced with is obtaining proof. How do I prove the Everleigh Club remains a house of ill repute? I must have real proof before I can lock its doors for ever and show the voting public that Mayor Carter H. Harrison keeps his campaign promises. That is why I have assembled all of you here – to solicit your suggestions about how I can obtain the necessary proof.'
Mayor Harrison's eyes moved around the room.
'Any suggestions, gentlemen?'
Jim Evans held up his hand. 'Why not question the girls? Even offer them a little something? Surely one of them might talk.'
Harrison shook his head. 'Useless. None of them will speak against the Everleighs. They're paid five or ten times what other prostitutes get. They won't risk losing their income.'
'What about the servants?' asked Jim Evans.
Again, the mayor shook his head. 'They're well paid also.'
'Why don't we question some of the regular customers?' someone wondered aloud.
'Negative,' Harrison replied. 'A sure strike-out. Customers enjoy the Everleigh Club. They want it to remain open. Even if one wanted to talk, he couldn't afford to be a witness in front of the police. He'd be worried about his wife or sweetheart or family finding out he frequented a brothel. No chance. Forget it.'
'Why not try to locate ex-Everleigh girls and get one of them to talk?' said aide Gus Varney.
'No good,' countered Harrison. 'Even if we could find them, they'd only be able to talk about the past, not about what is going on there today.' Harrison was briefly thoughtful. 'Something else just occurred to me. A better idea, if it can be made to work.'
'What's that?' inquired Gus Varney.
'The old Trojan horse trick.'
Varney appeared puzzled. 'Trojan horse trick?'
'Filtering someone from our side into the Everleigh Club. Letting that person find out first-hand that the Everleigh girls are still taking men to bed for pay. That would be solid proof.'
'It would be, indeed,' agreed Evans. 'But how could you get such a person in without arousing suspicion? I imagine the Everleighs will be doubly cautious about customers right now.'
Harrison nodded. 'They've always been cautious. They've admitted only persons well known to them, or customers who were recommended by trusted friends or who could prove their social standing and respectability.'
'How does a man make himself obviously respectable?' asked Jim Evans.
'Many ways. It could be his manner of dress, a refined voice, even something as simple as a fancy business card.' Harrison put down his cold cigar. 'Definitely a business card,' he said with certainty. 'Simply print an embossed card with a name on it, the name of a real factory in – in, say St Louis. Who could tell it was fake? I'd say the Everleighs would believe it immediately.'
Several aides voiced their approval.
'One of you, properly attired for the evening, could present this card for admittance. First, you'd ask for a girl, and the two of you could have a real costly dinner to prove you're a sport. Then the two of you could go upstairs and have your fun. After that, you could be a witness before Chief of Police O'Neill.'
'Wouldn't that be entrapment?' someone called out.
'I think our friendly courts might shut their eyes to that. Of course, it would be better, once finished, to tell the girl what you're doing. Since she'll be out of a job anyway, you could suggest she come along as a witness to back you up -in return for a sizeable bribe. That would be perfect.'
'Who's the lucky man?' Gus Varney wanted to know. 'Who gets the call?'
'Well, let me think a moment -'
Harrison examined each of his aides carefully, trying to imagine which one might be able to carry out the infiltration best. Most of them had been on his staff too long a time and might be recognized by another customer at the Everleigh Club. At last, his gaze fixed on Gus Varney.
'You,' said Harrison. 'You're the lucky one, Gus. Not because you're so beautiful and sexy.' Varney was, in fact, a beanpole and almost chinless. 'You've been on my staff the shortest time. You're from Detroit and haven't been around Chicago very long. Not that many people are familiar with you. You're the least likely to be recognized. Yes, I should say you'd be about right. You want the job?'
