I thought, how odd, nobody could know we were here. I signed for it, the kids looking on puzzled.
“What’s a telegram?” Lauren asked.
“Well, since the 1848 people could communicate through electric wires in Morse Code - a sort of very primitive ‘texting.’ Dots and dashes? Like in the Titanic movies?”
They nodded.
“But that was wireless telegraphy…what we call radio now.”
I opened the yellow Western Union envelope with interest - from Prague, Czechoslovakia:
CAREFUL DANGER GERMAN SPIES STOP HIDE EW WAND FORSICHT STOP WAIT MY ARRIVAL OCT 3 OLYMPIC STOP 7/29 ANTIBE STOP EJHANUSEN
“This is crazy!” I said, puzzled. “Some kind of crank. Early Junk Mail?”
“What is it Lito?” Jonathan asked.
“I don’t know - somebody from Europe knows or at least thinks he knows somebody with my last name. Sent a warning telegram about German spies. Hanusen?? Hmmm. Wants us to wait until he arrives on the Olympic on Tuesday.”
“Whoa! That sounds like fun Lito! Let me see. Why the funny message?”
“Telegrams were charged by the word so messages had to be short and the word ‘stop’ had to do for a period,” I explained. “Anyway we need to get going and catch our train. Mr. Hanusen is just going to have to wait - anyway we’ll be long gone before he knows it. Still, it would be cool to see Titanic’s sister ship…but that will have to wait for another trip, why we might even travel on one of the great liners - always wanted to do the midnight departure thing out of New York.” I jammed the telegram in my pocket.
A well-dressed man with wire rim glasses approached me from the lobby. He did a brief bow, and unconsciously clicked his heels, and proffered his card.
“Hans Georg Prohmann, at your service.” he said with a slight German accent.
“Yes, what can I do for you. We are in rather a hurry, have a train to catch.”
“Ja, vell, I won’t take up much of your time, just a brief word? I was Harry Houdini’s most trusted assistant. Mrs. Bonanno is a good friend of mine und she let me know zat there were some people zat stopped by who expressed much interest in Houdini. As a courtesy to his memory, but only to those who are serious students of the occult, I can offer you a glimpse into the great man’s magic! Ach he was unmatched! There is much that I could share with you if you are interested, yes? I unnerstand zat you haff one of his wands? Mrs. Bonanno mentioned this to me. I would love to examine it. There are certain vands… Mister?”
“Mayer… Mike Mayer.”
“To be sure,” he continued, “There are those, only a few, that are truly dangerous to those unskilled in the arts of magic, yes, while most of his feats were mere tricks, I can assure you that some were very real. I haff witnessed these myself! If I could examine yours, I could ascertain if it is harmless or one of the dangerous ones. I realize this sounds foolish, but you must trust me, for your own safety!”
“Yes, well, I left it locked in my safe deposit box here in New York,” I lied to him. “I do not want to carry it around in my travels. I shall be returning next week, and I will be happy to let you examine it.” I gave him my non-existent Minnesota address.
Mr. Prohmann smiled at this. “Many thanks, I shall be looking forward to our meeting again. Did you mention a train?”
“Yes, well, we have to make a dash to Penn Station, taking the ‘Broadway’ to Chicago and then home.”
“Ach! Excellent… yes, well you should be going. We’ll be in touch?”
“Yes, I can’t thank you enough for your concern. Let me have your address so I can let you know when I’ll be back in town?” I asked trying to act unconcerned, but I was beginning to be really alarmed - This guy probably knows about the wand and is looking for it - to what end?! This could have disastrous consequences! I wrote it down on the back of his card. He seemed satisfied that I was willing to cooperate.
“Till we meet again!” I said smiling.
We shook hands and I gathered the kids who were waiting patiently in the lobby.
“Not another word!” I told them. We all waved at Mr. Prohmann as the doorman took our bags.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Penn Station!” I said loud enough for Mr. Prohmann to hear.
The doorman whistled up a taxi and we piled in.
“Penn Station?” the cabby asked.
I whispered, “Look, we may be followed, please make as if you’re going to Penn Station but we are really going to Grand Central.”
“Got you Mac!” the cabby said, then loud enough for the doorman to hear, “Penn Station it is!”
THE CENTURY
The cab took us to 7th Avenue, turned left out of sight then around left on 42nd for Grand Central. It was 1 o’clock, the train left at 2:45 pm. The cabby made sure we weren’t followed and I gave him a big tip so he was happy. The kids were happy to be heading home but I had to warn them.
“Whew! That was close. We HAVE to be careful NEVER to mention the wand or the future, even joking. Who knows what that guy had in mind? He must know something about the wand and its powers! Too dangerous!”
“We’re sorry. We won’t do it again. Can we get back to our normal clothes now?” they asked.
“Tomorrow, after we get home, I promise.”
We had no trouble walking downstairs from the taxi entrance above to the New York Central ticket windows. There was a fairly long line for the ‘Century’s’ ticket window, but it went fast. The kids marveled at the size and beauty of the station. I showed them the star constellations on the ceiling and the old familiar information booth with its famous clock, same as today.
The ticket agent found our reservation, “Car 2-252 on the Second Section of the 20th Century Limited. That’s the next to last car. Your accommodations are in middle of the car, Section 5 upper and lower berths and lower berth Section 6, lemme see, that car is the ‘Holland,’ OK? Check in at Track 28, you can board anytime.”
It was $7 Extra Fare to ride the famous limited, and it would be refunded if we were late into Chicago.
“Thanks,” I said as he handed over the ticket folder, after paying cash.
“Second Section?” Lauren asked.
“There are too many passengers for one train so they often run the Century as more than one train, in multiple ‘sections’ as they call it. ”
We went over to Track 28’s gate and checked in at the Pullman table, the conductor taking and punching our tickets, telling us to keep the receipts and punched check he handed back. We walked down the ‘Red Carpet’ past the heavy, riveted dark green Pullman cars. The tracks were all underground of course. The 1st section of the Century was on the right side of the platform, Track 27.
Our car the ‘Holland’ was the first one in front of the observation car, the ‘Waldemeer’ an older steel car, with its open observation platform and brass railing on the rear, like a small patio with lounge chairs.
“I want to sit back there!” Jonathan said.
“You can and so do I, so let’s hurry and find our sections and get back there.”
“What’s a section?” Jonathan asked.
“That’s the standard Pullman seat and bed. The seats are made up into beds at night, the upper berth pulls down from the ceiling, and they draw curtains for privacy. You have to use the public bathroom, but it’s real nice.”
The Porter took our bags and led us to the middle of the car, Sections 5 and 6. After putting our bags under the facing seats of Section 5 in our plush, wood-paneled car, we hurried to the back platform with our ticket
