THE SOUTHERN BELLE
Jake Miller was a big man. He was big in stature, big in size, big in the business. world, big in his standing in the community. He had a very large home in the Sea Cliff section of San Francisco, and a large, bony wife that governed his house. He owned two furniture stores; one on lower Mission Street, and one in North Beach. Each was stuffed with grand furniture, copies of all the period pieces from the Louis, Chippendale, and Duncan Pfifes. He catered to the newly rich that had emerged with full pockets after the war, and who wanted everything that was expensive and rich looking.
He featured huge glass window cabinets, filled with useless colored glass from Italy, jades from the Orient, and ivories from all over the world.
He personally controlled everything, but he still had employees, sharp male sales people, and a few elderly, highly respected, well-known lady decorators.
He also had his own upholstery shop, where silks, velvets and damask were generously applied on reproductions - and that's where I came in.
I had a good woodworking shop. We made the frames, excellent copies of period pieces, as well as specially designed furniture. Jake Miller's upholstery shop covered them in expensive looking manners, and he displayed and sold them in his stores. The newly rich filled their homes will all these excesses - everyone made a good profit - everyone came out happy.
On rare occasions, Mr. Miller called me in to discuss trade, gave me signed large orders, and haggled about prices; but in general we got along just fine. We understood our roles. So I was surprised when on one of my visits he introduced me to a very shy young lady. I noticed her reserve, her insecurity, her long fingers, and fine fingernails. She seemed so very delicate and helpless. She talked in a whisper. Her skin was delicately pale, as if make of fine bone china, and she had a deep southern accent.
I had to strain my hearing to understand her quiet whispers and her melodic southern talk. This was all new and strange to me.
I also sensed that there is something intimate going on between Mr. Miller and this delicate young woman. Her name was Eleanor.
After a short introduction, Mr. Miller asked me to do them a favor. His women decorators and Eleanor did not get along. There was some jealousy. Eleanor was a very good decorator, with fresh ideas, and since I had many connections with all these architects and decorators, would I be able to find a suitable position with a good firm for this young southern woman.
I felt that Mr. Miller was either tired of, or even afraid of, this vulnerable woman. I did not know how far their sexual liaison had gone, but it apparently had become dangerous, and he wished it to end.
Eleanor looked sad. I felt sorry for her, and since it was almost lunchtime, I invited her for lunch with me at Bordeles on O'Farrell Street. I had to meet Donald Wallace there. He was an architect with whom I had cooperated on several projects.
Since we were early, and Donald was habitually late, we had a chance to talk. I had my first martini of the day, and she ordered a glass of white wine, which she nursed for the whole lunch hour.
When asked about her personal life, she became very sad, even cried occasionally. She was an only child. Her mother came from an old aristocratic family. Her father was mayor of a nice town in the South. But her father was a scoundrel, a drunkard, and a womanizer. He was accused of bribery and gambling. The town tried to kick him out of office, but everything was corrupt and the effort failed. He was defeated at the next election. He then left his wife and daughter, and moved away with his mistress and their offspring.
Disgraced, poorer, she then, at age of 18, and a virgin, married a young man of a lower class. But he too betrayed her, and a few days after the marriage left, and took on a mistress.
Disgusted, she got a divorce, and with her mother, traveled all the way to San Francisco to start a new life.
Her mother opened a small stationary store that sold mostly greeting cards. She took up courses in decorating, and that is what she was doing when I met her.
I liked this poor, helpless lady. I felt sorry for her and decided to introduce her to people who could help her. And the first was Donald Wallace, a likeable woman-loving, successful architect-designer. The minute Don waltzed into the restaurant, I felt a certain chemistry exchange between this vulnerable young woman and this experienced man. After lunch, I left them and returned to my office.
Among other endeavors, Don and I collaborated on a few projects for the Presidio of San Francisco. It was in the late 40's. The war was just over. Prosperity was here, and the military too had large funds to spend. Not only on increasing military strength, but also to make the quality of life for all the officers and the "Brass" more luxurious.
One of the projects was to enlarge and refurbish the Officers' Club. This was a lucrative undertaking for both of us. Also we were to help with the furnishings of all the new officer's homes that the Army built all over the huge base.
My next meeting concerning the Presidio was with Donald and his new assistant, Eleanor. A big change had come over this young woman - still shy and with a heavy southern drawl; she nevertheless shined at her new assignment. She loved all the attention of these officers; they listened when she suggested the colors for the walls, the kinds of wallpapers, the shape and covers for all the settees and chairs.
And since this was a huge project, she spent a lot of time on this Army base. Not only did she charm all the men, she also charmed their wives. She helped them with decorating their own homes in what everyone called "excellent good taste."
Not only was she their decorator, she also became a guest in their homes. There was never a party - and there were many - where she was not a visible guest. She became the darling of the "Big Brass".
Among the men that always followed her was a mature, 1st lieutenant named Darvin. Since he was somehow attached to a medical unit, we called him "Doctor". He liked this. He was a quiet man, and very attentive. Eleanor seemed to welcome his attention.
"Doctor" Darvin and I also got along very nicely, and he was even of some help to me at one time.
Eleanor expanded her connections, and even became what we called a "curb stoner" - she was able to buy furniture at the factories and wholesalers, and sell them to her clients at big discounts. She kept no inventories, nor did she have other expenses such as rent and phones and outside help.
Donald Walker paid her a good salary for her services as his decorator, and when I asked him how he gets along sexually with this southern gal, he smiled and assured me that everything was great, although not what it seemed to be. In bed, in all their intimacy, Eleanor was entirely a different woman.
He told me she was not shy, she was quite experienced, and either by design, or by really being a passionate creature, she was a tiger in bed. When she talked while they were making love, she used vulgar words. She had a vocabulary that would put a transcontinental truck driver to shame.
I thought he was putting me on.
We had to be in the financial area one day, and since it was impossible to park a car in this part of the city, I always took my truck - I could park it legally in any yellow zone.
This was one of these rare cold days in the city. Eleanor was with me, sitting on the high seat of the truck. As we stopped at an intersection, we saw a deliveryman caring a huge block of ice. He was lightly dressed, and seemed to be freezing (ice was delivered to restaurants and homes in the old days of the 1940's). As the iceman approached my truck, Eleanor opened the door, voiced her sympathy for the poor man, and then raised her skirt all the way to her navel, exposing her completely naked lower body. She wore no underwear. The iceman blushed.
Eleanor sat down demurely, pulled down her skirt, and in her southern drawl whispered, "I did my good deed for this day. The thought of my naked ass will keep this man's mind warm for a long time."
Eleanor's friendship with Darvin became warmer. He almost became her slave. Since he was never married; making the Army his career, he was a little clumsy in the game of dating, and I noted that Eleanor was beginning to teach him. One day he was promoted from lieutenant to captain. This was unusual, since he was not an outstanding officer.
But this was 1950, and in a few years after World War Two, when the cold war was declared, a new 3rd world war almost started on far off Korea.
Since Russia entered the war in the last few days of it’s ending by invading Korea and pushing out the Japanese, there was a small civil war between North and South Korea. China and Russia supported the North and we, the Americans, supported the South.
The unit of which Doctor, now Captain, Darvin was part of, was sent overseas, but not before he declared his love for Eleanor. They got engaged, and had a quick wedding in the Officers Club at the Presidio.
Her new husband also bought a two-story house on 12th.Avenue; right next to the Army base.
Eleanor's mother gave up her stationary store, and both women started to furnish and remodel this home. It became a show place with wrought iron grills and balconies. From the outside, it looked like one of the old French homes in New Orleans.
The Captain was overseas but the ladies worked to make a warm place for his return.
Our involvement in Korea grew. We suffered many, many casualties. The hospital in the Presidio filled up with the wounded. The Chinese and the Soviets helped the North with massive arms and advisers
Douglas McArthur wanted to invade China! President Truman recalled the General and had him retired. Still our intrusion went on and on.
I received a letter with a check from Captain Darvin. He was very much involved, and he worried about his wife and mother-in-law. She must be very lonely in their big house. He wanted me to take them out to some good restaurant.
One Saturday, I took the two ladies out to the Cliff Hotel. They were dressed to perfection, and as we walked in, their attitude, poise and dignity attracted attention.
The Maitre D’ seated us in a prominent booth where everyone could see us. They ordered dry sherry - carefully studied the menu, and told me what to order for them. To the waiter they specified exactly how they wanted their food. The main dish was Duck L'Orange.
I watched with astonishment at how deftly these two women ate their juicy poultry - how they used knife and fork, and were able to eat all the meat without touching anything except the utensils. Never had I seen such notable skills while eating.
After coffee and some cake, I drove them home. They were happy and grateful, and invited me into their home, which was neat, clean, and richly furnished.
Eleanor brought out a bottle of port wine, and poured us a little for an after lunch digestive. She also excused herself, as she had to see some client, but invited me to please stay a little longer with her mother so she wouldn’t have to be alone.
When Eleanor left, her mother poured more of that good wine, and I began to feel that this was a set-up. The mother became amorous, thanked me again and again for being so good to the two of them. She put her arms around me and started to kiss me. This was a game I didn't want to play. I made a phone call and excused myself by saying my wife was expecting me.
As everything must come to some end, the war in Korea somehow stopped. The country was divided into two parts - the Communists took over the North and we managed to stay with our forces in the South to protect them. And Captain, Doctor, Darvin came home, and he got a new field promotion to Major!
During a war, military promotions came easier. But all these rapid rises for this older, mature career soldier were too fast. Some people raised eyebrows and smiled - but Eleanor and her mother enjoyed their new higher standing in the military pecking order.
But now Major Darvin wanted to retire. He longed for a quiet life, and I heard from Eleanor that she had to give in, but not before they decided to move to her old city in the South. They bought a large house with a lot of open space. They were putting their home on 12th. Avenue for sale. Her mother was already in the South supervising the remodeling and improving of the newly acquired mansion.
And so, one day she came into my shop and asked me to buy her a drink. She wanted to say good-bye to me. We walked up to the 500 Club, a plain bar, near my office. She ordered Scotch - thanked me again, and again for all the favors I did for her. She explained that thanks to me, she met the people that made her happy.
After two drinks, she told me how sorry she was that they are leaving and that the stint in the army was ending for her husband. Looking down she slowly mentioned that with her connections, her educated ass and knowing how to use her body, she could have managed to have her husband promoted to even higher ranks.
As we walked back to her car, she embraced me and whispered in my ear that she was pregnant. She would deliver her baby in about six months. I almost blurted out "and who is the father?" but I knew better, and wished her luck.
As she drove away, she waved her arm, threw me a kiss, and her last words were:
"Just watch me. I will make the South rise again!"
I have never heard from her since.
