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"Needs bifocals," said Dave.
"Pardon?" asked the clerk.
"Nothing important," said Dave.
Franklin, of course, was only at the beginning of his career. But help was on the way.
The volumes were bound in velvet. The book had been published anonymously.
"What don't you understand about it?" Dave asked the dealer.
"What all the fuss is about. It's got tiny people. Giants. Horses that talk. It's a book for children." He went back to his original spectacles. "No wonder the author's keeping his name quiet. I would, too."
IN 1727, Franklin had founded the Junto, a group of twelve friends who met in Philadelphia at the Indian King Tavern on Friday evenings to discuss philosophy, politics, ethics, and whatever other subject seemed worthwhile. The meetings, as far as Shel could determine, were closed to nonmembers. But they took place in a bar. How difficult could it be? 1727, Franklin had founded the Junto, a group of twelve friends who met in Philadelphia at the Indian King Tavern on Friday evenings to discuss philosophy, politics, ethics, and whatever other subject seemed worthwhile. The meetings, as far as Shel could determine, were closed to nonmembers. But they took place in a bar. How difficult could it be?
They arrived down the street from the tavern on Friday evening, January 19, 1728, at a quarter to seven. Shel carried the copy of Gulliver's Travels Gulliver's Travels, wrapped in a paper bag.
It was cold. They could hear hear the tavern before they saw it. There was music from a stringed instrument, and raucous laughter, and a strong aroma of hops. Candles glittered happily in the windows. It occurred to Shel as they approached the place that he'd almost become accustomed to a world without electricity. And that the guy who was going to change that world forever would be here tonight. the tavern before they saw it. There was music from a stringed instrument, and raucous laughter, and a strong aroma of hops. Candles glittered happily in the windows. It occurred to Shel as they approached the place that he'd almost become accustomed to a world without electricity. And that the guy who was going to change that world forever would be here tonight.
Two young men were coming from the opposite direction. They'd started their drinking early, and they had to help each other into the tavern.
Shel and Dave followed them inside. The interior was filled with tobacco smoke. The clientele was all male, and most seemed reasonably well-to-do. Some were seated at tables, eating dinner. Others had collected at a bar. The music was being provided by a middle-aged guy with a guitar.
They ordered a couple of beers and were just starting on them when four more men came in, pa.s.sed directly through the room, and mounted a set of stairs in back. "That should be them," said Shel.
"I don't see anybody who looks like Franklin."
"He might be up there already."
Dave eased out of his chair. "Shall we go?"
"Let's wait till seven. We don't want to get there before he he does." does."
The beer was good. More visitors entered and headed for the second floor. "How long do these meetings last?" asked Dave.
"About an hour. Hold on."
One of the newcomers, a young man, stopped at a table to talk and exchange handshakes. Shel had no idea what Franklin had looked like at twenty-one. But this might be him. He was a little taller than average, with brown hair and alert eyes. He finished the conversation and started for the stairs.
Shel waited until he was gone. Then he wandered over to the table. The two men were in their early twenties, one white, one Hispanic. Both looked prosperous. "Pardon me," he said, "but I'm trying to find a Mr. Franklin-"
"Ben?" asked the Hispanic.
"Yes."
"That was him a minute ago. He just went upstairs."
[image]
LAUGHTER drifted down from the second floor. And applause. They went up the staircase and into a corridor. A door was open, and a noisy group of men was gathered inside a meeting room. Most were young, in their twenties. Shel and Dave stopped at the entrance, where an open ledger had been set up on a small table. drifted down from the second floor. And applause. They went up the staircase and into a corridor. A door was open, and a noisy group of men was gathered inside a meeting room. Most were young, in their twenties. Shel and Dave stopped at the entrance, where an open ledger had been set up on a small table.
Franklin had just signed in and was deeply engaged in conversation with a portly gentleman who was puffing on a large cigar.
A man with spectacles spotted Shel and Dave. He shook his head no, but when Shel entered anyway, he got up and came over. "Gentlemen," he said through a regretful smile, "I'm sorry. This is a private meeting."
"I know," said Shel. "Forgive me, but this is is the Junto, is it not?" the Junto, is it not?"
"Yes, it is, sir."
Shel fixed his eyes on Franklin. "We'll only take a moment of your time. We wondered if we might speak briefly with Silence Dogood." He raised his voice sufficiently to be heard inside the room.
Franklin turned to look at them. "Really?" An amused glimmer appeared in his eyes. "And what do you know of Silence Dogood?"
"We lived in Boston for several years," said Shel. "If you are the man, I must tell you how much I enjoyed your work."
He came over. "I have it, Hugh," he told the individual who was trying to get them to leave.
"We were subscribers to the New-England Courant New-England Courant," Shel continued. "You were the best thing in the paper."
"That's very kind of you, sir." They had everyone's attention now. Franklin smiled and shrugged his shoulders, enjoying the moment. "How did you know I I wrote the features? Only a few were aware of that." wrote the features? Only a few were aware of that."
"I've heard it from several sources, Mr. Franklin. You are are Mr. Franklin?" Mr. Franklin?"
"Yes, I am."
"I'm sorry if we interrupted at an inopportune time, sir. I hope you're not offended. But when we heard you were going to be here-" He stopped midsentence. "My name is Adrian Shelborne. This is David Dryden. When we heard you were going to be here, we just couldn't resist coming by to wish you a happy birthday."
"You don't sound like a New Englander, Mr. Shelborne."
"I was born and grew up in Philadelphia, sir."
"I see. Well, I thank you for the good wishes."
The two men from the table downstairs arrived at precisely that moment. "I see they found you, Ben," said the Hispanic.
Shel smiled and held out the package. "Mr. Franklin, we brought you a gift."
Franklin looked curiously at it, but made no move to accept it.
"It's a book," said Shel.
He took it, finally. He opened the bag and withdrew one of the volumes. "Interesting," he said. He held it up so everyone in the room could see it. "Gulliver's Travels." He glanced at the second volume and turned back to Shel and Dave. "That's a substantial gift for someone you do not know."
"It's small enough return for one who has given us so much pleasure."
A man with s.h.a.ggy red hair laughed. "The Brits say whoever wrote it is a troublemaker."
"Good," roared another. "Troublemakers always make the best reading." He smiled up at Franklin. "Don't they, Ben?"
No one else seemed to have known it was Franklin's birthday. They thanked the newcomers, pa.s.sed a motion that Franklin not be permitted to pay for his drinks, and, after some discussion, pa.s.sed another suspending the rule barring nonmembers from partic.i.p.ating in meetings. Shel and Dave were shown a copy of the bylaws, which informed them, while on the premises, they must keep open minds, that no unprovable a.s.sertion would be considered sacrosanct, that strong opinions would not be tolerated, and that speakers were not to monopolize the time.
"We are not a debating club," Franklin said. "Our goal is to get at the truth, where that is possible."
THE topic for the evening was the willingness of human beings to be influenced by the social milieu in which they live. Tribalism. The damage that unthinking groups, following what would eventually be called memes, inflict on each other. The discussion rapidly veered off into whether rebels are as dangerous to a peaceful society as those who are unthinkingly obedient and respect authority. topic for the evening was the willingness of human beings to be influenced by the social milieu in which they live. Tribalism. The damage that unthinking groups, following what would eventually be called memes, inflict on each other. The discussion rapidly veered off into whether rebels are as dangerous to a peaceful society as those who are unthinkingly obedient and respect authority.
It went back and forth. Without authoritarian controls, chaos would ensue. But people acting in the name of authority, or of a group, will commit atrocities they would never perpetrate on their own.
Take the New England witch trials, for example.
Shel found himself thinking of the Holocaust. He wondered how many in that room would believe that such an event was even possible in a supposedly civilized nation. If it could happen in Germany, could it happen anywhere?
The man who'd taken them into the hall, Hugh Meredith, wondered if it wasn't possible to establish strict controls on authority. "Give ultimate power to the people," he suggested.
"I agree," said John Jones, Jr., a shoemaker. "Surely there is a place between authoritarian rule and chaos."
"Perhaps," said Franklin, "we should resurrect Rome. Cicero's Rome."
"Divide the power." Voices were joining in from all over the room.
"Two consuls."
"A senate."
"And vote them all out every couple of years."
AT the end of the evening, as the members were leaving, Franklin took Shel and Dave aside. "I think you will be receiving an invitation to join our group," he said. "I will hope to see you again." the end of the evening, as the members were leaving, Franklin took Shel and Dave aside. "I think you will be receiving an invitation to join our group," he said. "I will hope to see you again."
"Ah," said Shel, "we appreciate the compliment. Unfortunately, we do not live close enough that a membership would be practical."
"That's a pity. Where are are you living currently?" you living currently?"
"Baltimore."
"Yes." He sighed. "Well, we were glad to have had you with us for the evening." He gazed down at Gulliver's Travels Gulliver's Travels. "And thank you for this. I've heard interesting things about it."
"I think you'll enjoy it, Ben." (They were by then on first-name terms.) "By the way," said Dave, "I wonder whether we didn't see an example of tribalism here tonight?"
"By us us?" asked Franklin. "How do you mean?"
"The club," Dave said. "There were no women present."
CHAPTER 30.
I have often thought that if there had been a good rap group around in those days, I might have chosen a career in music instead of politics.
-RICHARD NIXON, AUDIO, THE NIXON PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY
THE lack of women partic.i.p.ants at the Junto led Dave and Shel to Sojourner Truth. They were among the very few males present when she delivered her "Ain't I a Woman?" speech in 1851 at the Ohio Women's Rights Convention in Akron. lack of women partic.i.p.ants at the Junto led Dave and Shel to Sojourner Truth. They were among the very few males present when she delivered her "Ain't I a Woman?" speech in 1851 at the Ohio Women's Rights Convention in Akron.
They spent an evening with Alexander von Humboldt in eighteenth-century Berlin discussing celestial mechanics and politics.
They hung out in a Milan bar several evenings with Ernest Heming way, while he was recovering from wounds incurred driving an ambulance during World War I.
A few nights later they were in eastern France, at the Chateau de Cirey, talking with Voltaire and his lover, the Marquise du Chatelet. Actually, Dave did most of the talking, because Shel's French was nonexistent. But they hit it off. Voltaire, whose name was actually Francois-Marie Arouet, was simultaneously the funniest and the most pa.s.sionate man Shel had ever encountered. And this despite the fact that everything had to be translated.
The evening went well, and they were invited back. Shel worked on his French, and the next time they went, he was better able to partic.i.p.ate.
Voltaire loved parties. They met Ibrahim Muteferrika at one and Alexander Pope at another. Jonathan Swift was to have traveled with Pope, but he failed to arrive. "I think," Pope said, "he has no taste for traveling long distances."
On October 1, 1932, they were in the stands at Wrigley Field when Babe Ruth called his shot against Charlie Root. (And yes, there was no question in Shel's mind what Ruth intended when, on a 2-2 count, he stepped out of the box and pointed his bat toward the right center field bleachers.) At Fort Bridger, in 1868 Wyoming, Dave bought a round of drinks for Calamity Jane. In France after the Great War, they arranged to meet the Unsinkable Molly Brown while posing as reconstruction volunteers. (And, in fact, she successfully coerced them into doing some work.) Years later, her time, they partied with her on the Hannibal, Missouri, social circuit.
But the big catch was to be George Washington. Claiming to be journalists, they attended the award ceremony for Mary Hays McCauly. Mary, the general explained, had accompanied her husband to the battle fie ld, and "on a blazing hot day, paid no mind to incoming artillery sh.e.l.ls, and carried pitchers of water to thirsty soldiers. When her husband was wounded, she took his place at the gun." He presented her with her warrant. "Henceforth, Mrs. McCauly will be known as Sergeant Molly."
In fact, of course, history knows her as Molly Pitcher.
After the ceremony, in their anxiety to talk with Molly, they let Washington slip away.
THE converters were hopelessly addictive. Shel and Dave were out constantly, visiting Caesar's Rome, wandering through Florence at the height of the Enlightenment, offering advice to Van Dyck and El Greco. On August 3, 1492, they stood at the mouth of the harbor in Palos, Spain, watching Columbus's three ships depart westward, ostensibly for India. converters were hopelessly addictive. Shel and Dave were out constantly, visiting Caesar's Rome, wandering through Florence at the height of the Enlightenment, offering advice to Van Dyck and El Greco. On August 3, 1492, they stood at the mouth of the harbor in Palos, Spain, watching Columbus's three ships depart westward, ostensibly for India.
They visited Henry Th.o.r.eau, jailed in Concord for refusing to pay taxes during the Mexican War; and Harlan Ellison, jailed in southeastern Louisiana for partic.i.p.ating in civil rights protests.
They spent an afternoon in Dayton, Tennessee, at the Scopes Monkey Trial, and rode on Mark Twain's riverboat. They were on a crowded rooftop in the Battery at Charleston, with several dozen others, when, at 4:30 A.M., April 12, 1861, the Confederates opened fire on Fort Sumter.
It was during this period that they moved the base of the operation from the town house to Dave's modest home on Carmichael Drive. By then there were too many costumes to manage equitably, and Dave had the ideal walk-in closet.
They made a second try for George Washington. During the Revolution, it was impossible to get close to him. They compromised, and spent a few minutes with a younger version of the man in an Alexandria tavern in 1759. He was twenty-seven at the time, but already a veteran of the French and Indian War. Shel and Dave pretended to be journalists, as they had so often. But Shel's impression was that, while he was courteous, Washington wasn't particularly receptive. He was unwilling to submit to what he perceived as an interview and took the first opportunity to excuse himself from their company.
But the evening began a tradition of meeting presidents well before they'd become political forces.
A twenty-year-old Andrew Jackson actually unnerved Shel. They were in Salisbury, North Carolina, in 1787. Jackson had recently been admitted to the bar. Shel and Dave, pretending to have just learned about his accomplishment, were helping him celebrate when a couple of oversized roughnecks made lascivious comments to a pa.s.sing woman. Jackson directed them to leave.
When they challenged him, he took off his jacket and invited either, or both, to try their luck. He glanced at Shel, and smiled. Shel realized, with horror, he was being invited into the fight. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary: Both thugs backed off.