Chapter 33: Open House

December 3, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

Wednesday and Thursday were routine, both at work and at class, and on Friday morning, I met with Marcus in advance of the arrival of the city building inspector.

“How does this work?” I asked.

“He checks the electrical panels, wiring, and outlets to ensure they conform to code. If things go the way they usually do, he’ll flag one or two items, we’ll fix them, and then he’ll come back for a final inspection early next week.”

“If you know things are wrong, why not fix them?”

Marcus smiled, “Because we don’t know and the inspector always finds something, even if it’s only a minor thing which wouldn’t present any safety concerns. The only way to avoid that is to grease his palms, but we built in time for this, so we don’t need a sign-off today. And even if we did, there’s no guarantee we’d get an inspector who would play ball. We do our best to bid in a way that accounts for the usual BS we get from the city because we don’t play the game the way other firms do.”

“I prefer honesty in my dealings,” I said.

Marcus nodded, “Me, too. And that’s Mr. Brown’s main guiding principle.”

“Do you do residential?”

“Absolutely. Do you have something in mind?”

“Not yet, but in the Spring I’m likely going to buy a house and a fireman friend of mine recommended a brick fireplace and a fire pit. Depending on the place, it might need a patio as well.”

“We can do all of that. We also do rehab and improvements as well. Just call when you’re ready and we’ll take good care of you.”

“Thanks. OK if I stay for the inspection?”

“Yes, just keep quiet no matter what the guy says, and let me and the Master Electrician deal with it.”

“Given I’m so far out of my league on electrical work, I doubt I’d have anything useful to say.”

Marcus grinned, “My point, exactly, and you could, without realizing it, cause problems with the wrong question or by trying to be ‘helpful’. Had that happen one time, and it set us back almost a month when the inspector decided everything had to be ripped out and redone because the building owner made some wisecrack about substandard wiring.”

“Ouch.”

“He paid for it, though, because we had to charge him time and materials. Had he kept his mouth shut, there wouldn’t have been a problem.”

“Did you use substandard materials?”

“No. But once the guy made the wisecrack, we were sunk. You know the saying about not being able to fight City Hall? That’s truer in Chicago than anywhere else in the country. Going against the Mayor or Alderman is a losing proposition, and it’s worse if you go against the Building Department or Streets and Sanitation. They’re pricks because they can be, and they don’t have to answer to the voters.”

“Sounds like the union guys.”

“The members are cool,” Marcus said. “It’s the leadership who are the problem, especially the Outfit guys. You met one.”

“Theo Lipari,” I replied. “I met him when we moved into the building here.”

“He’s IBEW, but he’s also an Outfit captain.”

“I got that picture when I met him the first time, but I don’t know anything about the structure of the Chicago outfit.”

“Basically, he has a crew of guys who loan shark, take sports bets, run hookers, and collect protection money. He kicks up to somebody who manages multiple captains, and that guy kicks up to the Boss.”

“It sounds like a business.”

“It is,” Marcus replied with a grin. “Al Capone once said that he was a businessman supplying the people of Chicago with goods and services denied to them by their government.”

“Well, they did send the Treasury department against him for tax evasion. That was actually mentioned in the course I took for my securities license when they spoke about the ways you could get in trouble with the government besides the SEC.”

“Marcus Washington?” a middle-age man in a hardhat wearing a City of Chicago badge asked.

“Me,” Marcus replied.

“Dixon, electrical inspection.”

“This is Jonathan Kane, the client liaison.”

“Kane,” Mr. Dixon said with a nod. “OK, Washington, do you have electrical blueprints?”

“Right this way,” Marcus said.

We walked over to a drafting table with the construction blueprints. Marcus paged through them and folded back the pages to show the electrical blueprint. Mr. Dixon looked it over and made a few notes in his notebook.

“Let’s start with the main panel in the building utility closet,” he said.

The inspection took just under an hour, and as Marcus had predicted, there were some minor discrepancies noted, and the inspector agreed to return on Tuesday.

“Are those real or invented?” I asked.

“Does it matter?” Marcus replied.

“To me, yes, though I’ll understand if you can’t answer that question.”

“They’re real enough that we need to change them to pass inspection.”

“I guess I’m missing something. If you guys never pay, what’s the point?”

“A big part of it is the inspectors being able to show they’re doing their jobs. And they know that most projects overrun on time, so most of the time, it works. I’m actually not sure why Theo isn’t causing more trouble; he usually does.”

I knew, but I couldn’t say.

“He did when we moved,” I replied. “But that situation was different from this one. And you’re using all union labor. The moving company wasn’t, and I had the idea that Mr. Lipari was acting as an Outfit guy rather than a union guy.”

“That would fit the pattern. Let me get the electricians to fix the deficiencies. I don’t foresee any trouble with the inspection on Tuesday.”

“Thanks, Marcus. Let me know if there are any concerns.”

I headed back to 30 and let Mr. Nelson know about the inspection.

“Typical Chicago bullshit,” he replied. “Have you heard about the union contract with McCormick Place?”

“No.”

“For trade shows, nobody is allowed to plug anything in, including a light or radio, let alone a machine, and the union charges $25 per plug.”

“You’re joking!”

“Sadly, I’m not. You can imagine why the union won’t budge on that negotiation.”

“Cash cow,” I replied.

“And a captive market. It’s right up there with the Chicago ordinance against any power cord being more than six feet long. That requires more work for electricians.”

“What’s the rationale? I mean, besides feeding at the trough?”

“Ostensibly safety. Just as there is an ordinance against using extension cords and power strips, except in very limited circumstances.”

“Nice gig, if you can get it.”

“The union guys make a pretty penny, the union itself makes out like bandits, and of course, the Outfit gets their cut. But here’s the thing — everyone bitches about graft and corruption, but the city actually works. You can get things done, and to most people, that’s more important than stopping the graft.”

“An interesting take,” I replied. “I’m not sure I agree.”

Mr. Nelson shrugged, “It’s always been this way in Chicago. Get used to it.”

“Anyway, we’re still on target.”

“Good work, Kane.”

I left his office and returned to the mailroom. The rest of the day was routine, and at 5:00pm, I left for my date with Lily. As I drove to University Village, I contemplated what to do about the situation with Bev. I struggled with what seemed like contradictions in the things Bev had said, including ‘live your life’ versus her implication that she’d say ‘yes’ in December if I asked her to move to Chicago.

That had caused me to think about what life would be like with Bev and Heather. In one sense, it wouldn’t be all that different from growing up with Bev when she was my constant companion. but in another sense, Heather complicated things. Not because she was Bob’s daughter, but because at twenty, the idea of having a baby was disconcerting.

Something dawned on me as I approached the Andros’ driveway — that when I was home with Bev, I thought differently from how I thought when I was in Chicago. Being with Bev affected my thinking, but not because I felt she was being manipulative. Far from it, she was actually pushing back, which confused me at first, but which I now realized was her way of ensuring I thought things through.

I put that out of my mind as I parked in the driveway behind the Andros’ house. I got out of the car and saw Lily standing behind the storm door, which she opened as I walked up the steps.

“Hi!” she exclaimed. “I’m ready to go.”

We exchanged a quick hug and kiss, then walked back to the car. I opened the door for her, and once she was in the passenger seat, I closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. I got in, buckled up, started the car, and backed out of the driveway.

“Are you still OK with TGI Friday’s on 22nd Street in the burbs?” she asked.

“Yes. What’s the best way to get there?”

“The Ike to I-5, take the Highland exit, turn right, and it’s on your right.”

“How was your week?” I asked as I headed for the Eisenhower Expressway.

“Good. Class, homework, and hanging out with some friends. You?”

“Work and class,” I replied. “The other nights I just hung out at home.”

“Are you having your get-together on Sunday?”

“Yes, and you’re welcome to come. Tom and Stuart will both be on shift, and Dustin has a wedding. Your brother and Trevor will be there. Would you be willing to give Violet a ride to my house and back home?”

“Sure, though, that kind of puts a damper on post-game entertainment!”

“We do have tonight,” I replied.

“Mom’s home, so we’d have to go to your place, and you’d have to bring me home tonight, because I’d prefer not to advertise if you get my drift.”

“I do, and that’s not a problem. I know you don’t have a curfew, but what time does your mom prefer you to be home?”

“She’s cool with 1:00am, because then I can be awake for breakfast, which makes her happy.”

“OK. I’ll call Violet tomorrow and make sure she’s OK with the plan and let you know.”

“Cool.”

“How are things with Costas? I’ve avoided asking him so as not to cause any trouble.”

“They’re going OK. Mom is still a bit uncomfortable with Archie, but she’s not saying anything, and they’ve had dinner at the house a few times.”

“That’s good.”

“Anything interesting going on in your life?”

“Just the construction at work.”

“How was Ohio?”

“I think my mom may get married!”

“Really?”

“I like the guy, and Mom really likes the guy.”

Lilly laughed, “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re OK with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? She has to do what makes her happy the same way I do.”

“It would be weird if my mom started dating and weirder if she, you know...”

“I think the difference might be that I never knew my dad and never saw my mom in a relationship growing up.”

“I suppose,” Lily said. “How is your friend’s baby?”

“Growing fast,” I replied.

“I don’t think I could deal with a baby right now.”

“I have the same thought,” I replied. “But Bev didn’t really have a choice once she got pregnant.”

“She’s Catholic?”

“No, but she doesn’t believe in abortion. It’s not religious for her, just something she said she couldn’t do.”

“But you’re OK with it, right?”

“I’m a guy, so my opinion about what a woman does with her body is pretty much irrelevant. I would take responsibility and support my partner in whatever decision she made.”

“That does fit your personality.”

“I’d prefer not to be in that situation, which is why I’m adamant about birth control. But even the Pill can fail, and that’s true, even if you take it exactly as directed.”

“Sure, but isn’t it like one in a hundred over the entire length of using the Pill or something like that?”

“Stats are great until you’re the statistic!”

“Yeah. Well, I’ve been taking my pills religiously!”

I laughed, “Cute.”

At TGI Friday’s I ordered chicken fried steak which was awesome, though we passed on dessert so that we’d have more time at my house. We enjoyed a few hours in my bed before I took Lily home.

December 4, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

“What time will Juliette arrive?” I asked Bianca at breakfast.

“3:00pm,” Bianca replied. “What time are you going to look at the house?”

“10:00am. You and Shelly are welcome to come along if you want.”

“Sure. Nothing changed, though, right? You can’t actually buy a house until you start your new role?”

“Correct. But Mr. Wyatt, the real estate agent, said that it’s difficult to sell a house in December or January, so it’s possible the house will still be on the market on March 1st. Mr. Wyatt felt it was worth seeing, and it’ll give me an idea of what I can afford.”

“I want to see the house you can afford in ten years!” Shelly declared.

“There are guys at Spurgeon who are what they call ‘house poor’ — their mortgage and property taxes are so high, along with maintenance costs, that they have little disposable income. They usually lease an expensive car for themselves and their wives and burn through money. I probably have more spendable money at any given moment than they do.”

“That’s nuts!” Bianca exclaimed.

“I agree, which is why I’ve been careful with how I spend money, and I won’t buy more house than we need. And with you two plus Jack, it would be easy to make the mortgage payments, even on my current salary.”

“And your car was free!”

“My car came at no monetary outlay,” I chuckled. “It was not ‘free’, in that I owe Mr. Matheson my services for the foreseeable future.”

“OK, OK!” Bianca said, rolling her eyes. “You know what I meant!”

“I did, but there was a cost associated, just not a monetary one. And actually, technically there is, because I have to pay income taxes on the value of the car. In any event, I’ve kept my expenses in line with my income, and have allocated a significant portion of my income to savings and investment. And that hasn’t limited what I do in any way.”

“You don’t feel you need to show off, I guess,” Shelly suggested.

“That is part of it,” I replied. “Some of the guys do need to ‘show off’ and like the prestige that comes with living in a large house in an exclusive community. I grew up in a house much smaller than this one, so this seems like luxury to me. But it is something I have to be aware of, and I’ll need to stick to a budget and a financial plan.”

“It’s weird that someone who has the potential to make a million bucks a year, or more, has to have a budget.”

“The US government has one,” I chuckled. “Not that they live within their means! Of course, when you can simply run the printing presses or borrow money at the lowest possible rate, and run deficits that create a debt that will probably never be repaid, you can spend as much as you want and never really worry about it.”

“What would you cut?”

“That’s a tough question because I don’t know the details of the money the federal government spends. I suspect a big portion is spent on Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid, along with other social programs. I’m sure a lot of money is spent on defense, too, but I don’t know enough to decide how to balance it, or if we should increase taxes.”

“You want to increase taxes?”

“Well, if we want all the stuff the government provides, we need to pay for it, and printing money is a really, really bad idea. One thing I learned from some of the materials Mr. Matheson gave me was about hyperinflation as well as debasing currencies. Both basically wreck the purchasing power of whatever money is being circulated.”

“Debasing?” Shelly asked.

“It can mean many things, but usually refers to reducing the copper, silver, or gold content of a coin, or making it less pure. An individual can debase a coin by clipping or shaving precious metal from the edges, which, if done carefully, is hard to detect. And that’s why quarters have ridges on their edges.”

“Really?”

“Really. When they were made of silver, and when 25¢ was a significant sum, shaving a tiny bit of silver from every coin allowed the person spending the quarter to keep some of the value, and eventually form it into a bar or round. The same basic idea is behind the phrase, ‘not worth a plugged nickel’, which meant altering a coin to remove some precious metal and replace it with non-precious metal. And while we’re talking about the quarter, I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase ‘two bits’ to refer to a quarter, right?”

“Sure, but I never understood that.”

“It’s based on the Spanish silver dollars, which had eight wedge-shaped segments, which is why they were called ‘pieces of eight’. Well, if you have two of those, you have a quarter dollar, or ‘two bits’.”

“That’s totally cool!”

“My grandfather called $10 bills ‘sawbucks’,” Shelly said. “Do you know why?”

“A ‘sawbuck’ is an X-shaped piece of equipment used for sawing wood, and there was an ‘X’ on the back of $10 bills at one point. Someone associated the X with the sawbuck, and that’s where that phrase came from. And from what I read, the term ‘buck’ isn’t related to ‘sawbuck’.

“There are multiple theories, but the one that seems to fit the best is that it comes from poker, where a knife was used to signify the dealer, and it was called a ‘buck’. Eventually, they replaced the knife with a silver dollar, and so the phrase ‘pass the buck’ became associated with US currency.”

“NOW I understand why the phrase ‘the buck stops here’ means take responsibility and the phrase ‘pass the buck’ means shift the blame.”