Supper with the shoemaker turned out to be a great idea. He did have a name and it was David Schumacher. I almost burst out laughing and Schumacher just grinned, it was good to be able to see the humor in your own name. Hell I went through life being Mr. Narrater and was miserable until I was given the sage advice just to use it. Sure enough I was the one kid in the entire school that everyone knew, simply because I was the Narrator in every school play.
After introducing him to Jeb we all followed him to the “best” restaurant in town. Of course we went right back to the immigrant sector and were led to an older frame house that had already seen it’s better days. It had a lean to it that made me realize that this old thing had somehow survived the New Madrid Quake of just a decade earlier. The New Madrid earthquake was later estimated to be a minimum of an 8.2, - possibly even a 10.2, and had rung church bells in Boston more than a thousand miles away.
Modern day geologists had slowly downgraded the power of the quakes but many people wrote that off as political pressure from state governments desiring more FEMA money. Regardless, it flattened what was St. Louis at the time and sent the Mississippi River into panic mode, running anywhere it could and changing course in several places.
Anyway, it was already an old house, and it was still standing; it also turned out to contain some amazing Italian cuisine. Not food but true cuisine, the sort you’d find at a very fine restaurant. It also surprised me to see that there was a number of fine gentlemen taking their supper here, no ladies, just the gentlemen. Apparently it wouldn’t be proper to bring your lady to immigrant town, I guess this was what you’d call quiet racism.
The food was out of this world; they even had fresh parmesan cheese which truly got my attention. I turned to the business at hand and started to work my offer with Dirk. A good shoemaker in town would be a priceless commodity, and I truly wanted his enthusiastic buy in. By the second glass of wine he was into the idea and when I brought my need to find a bank he mentioned a man he knew from their religious group. I began to think about funding my own bank.
My belly was full and my mind was racing. I agreed to meet him again in two days’ time to allow him to properly observe his sabbath, as he had bent the rules a little to meet with us tonight. With that we ended the business talk and finished our delightful meals. There was a tavern or two I wanted to check out up in town, and I was in good company to do so.
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The first stop turned out to be a bit on the shady side; we could hear the dice rolling as soon as we walked into the room. I had to put my hand on Timmons to keep him away and we walked to the makeshift bar and ordered a round of beer and whiskey. I was looking for a lot of things and a good brewery was definitely one of them and gambling definitely was not.
This wasn’t the place to find either brewer or distiller, both were rot-gut that I wouldn’t serve to my enemy. Jeb and his workman’s outfit fit in much better here and after mixing for about a half an hour he had met a local builder. We bought the man a beer and Jeb got a commitment to meet up in the morning, if the guy could make it to breakfast then he might be a valuable contact. None of us were very thirsty after our meal and we moved on to the other tavern which appeared to be a little more upscale.
There was actually a doorman at this tavern. Amos and Jeb took that as their getaway cue, and went back to the hotel, leaving Timmons and I to delve in the what was left of St. Louis high society.
The tavern was still a very nice place and they had an actual bar for us to lean on. We started with a round of their best beer and finest whiskey; the price wasn’t bad and the booze was decent. I tipped heavily and inquired about the source of these fine beverages. The bartender turned out to be the owner and the brewer; which could be good news or bad.
We talked a while about me being from ‘upriver’ and what we had going on, then shifted focus to him. He admitted that things had been thin for him since the bank crashed in ’19 but trade was starting to pick back up again. I told him what I knew about the plans slowly moving to a major Army camp in Leavenworth and let him know that he might want to consider ramping his brewing up a little. There would be a lot of thirsty men up there in about five years and a well-positioned brewer with a good brew like his might do very well if he was ready.
That brought on an entirely new conversation about hops and whatnot, and I just flowed with it. After another round went down for each of us I inquired regarding to buying a few casks of beer and maybe a cask of whiskey. He mused on that and then offered that he did have some better whiskey but it was usually reserved for the movers and shakers around town. He the proceeded to pull out a bottle and pour a measure for each of us, I kind of cut Timmons off after that. He’d had a long day and his words were starting to slur.
His fine whiskey was actually pretty good, smooth and flavorful. I would definitely purchase a cask if he would sell it. In a return gesture I pulled out one of the few pints I had brought with me and poured us each a measure.
It was truly fun to watch a distiller’s face light up with each sip of Max’s very fine bourbon. Just like that we had us a booze source.