The trip was short and sweet, allowing me the chance to look at more of the city, and it’s strange, almost otherworldly appearance with skeletons of buildings going up higher then I ever thought possible. There were statues, fountains, vendors, trees, and houses, all jammed together, and growing ever taller. It was as if I had entered an entirely other world, in another time and place, and I was just a passenger along for the ride, there to enjoy the view.
It was a very surreal sight, all said and done.
Though as the drive wore on, I was surprised we were entering a quieter part of the city. We’d left much of the busy city heart behind. More carriages were on the road, most with horses, but the occasional coppersmith one with industrial steam-tech attachments did pop up on the road. Most were heading to the same place.
Up to a little corner of 7th Avenue and 57th Street.
And sitting at this little corner street out in the middle of nowhere, was a newly completed massive building. A huge, multistory stonework, basically a huge box, with lots of long curved windows, classic brick window-pillar styles and doors, and several words carved into the stone above the three main doors: MUSIC HALL…FOUNDED BY…ANDREW CARNEGIE.
“Well, if you build it and pay for it, you do get to name it.” I muttered, smiling as we slowly came up to the large, pretty but unassuming building.
“It’s so big!” Tanya cried, looking thrilled as she and her sister crawled up to the windows to look out at the lit up building. I found myself wondering what kind of lights they were, given how bright and steady they looked. I’d never seen the same with gaslights or kerosene light.
“I heard it can seat almost three thousand people!” Chenya said, sounding stunned. I was too at that number. I’d never heard of the place until the builder of it insisted I come, so I knew next to nothing about it.
“It was only completed recently.” Maggie muttered, looking at it with rapt interest. “I don’t get why he wanted to build it in old Hog Town. But it’s his money. I think this is the big, official opening night for it. So a lot of who’s who may well be here.”
“Looks like you’re right.” I replied, pointing out the window to main doors.
Many carriages were arriving in a line at the front door, with a red carpet laid out and many janitors helping to usher in richly dressed people. While there were a lot of people, none were milling around. They were all moving with a purpose, and most were moving inside.
Some were dressed a little more exotic than with just rich and pretty dresses and well made, expensive business suits. Others had what looked like coppersmith technology worked into their clothes. Nor was everyone human.
There were dwarves, some beastkin, and vague, shadowy outlines of others, that were humanoid, but likely not human.
Interesting mix. I thought to myself, looking around as our carriage finally pulled forward, and slowly worked our way out of the box carriage. I waved off the usher, hopped down, then turned and helped Maggie come down while she carried the basket the whole time.
It was quite the strange sight to me; a cat woman carrying a basket with little mouse girls in it.
Still, it worked.
The night was cold, with the feeling that a storm might be rolling in, so we all quickly headed inside, and I finally entered the large lobby of the building. It was nice, elegant, and richly appointed, but strangely less overtly opulent then other places I’d seen or been. That aspect surprised me, but not the crowd of rich elite folks wondering around, most with drinks in their hands.
The crowd however was growing, and I got the feeling that it was going to be packed.
“And who are you sir?” A uniformed usher asked as he approached me, eyeing me up and down.
I chuckled and handed him our tickets.
“Jake Ranger.” I introduced myself. “Here at the request of Mr. Carnegie. And my guests.”
“Maggie Carson.” Maggie introduced herself with a toothy smile. I glanced at her in surprise, realizing that had been the first time I’d heard her actual full name.
“Tanya and Chenya Bocharov.” Tanya introduced herself and her sister, and I fought to keep from laughing at the look on the young Ushers face when he saw who had spoken.
He shakily took our tickets, looked them over, then seemed to grow slightly more nervous.
“Right this way Sir and Madams.” He gestured for us to follow him through the lobby to a white door that read VIP Lobby. “Mr. Carnegie is just arriving, so you should be able to meet up with him here easily enough.”
“Thank you.” I said, smiling as he led us into an equally large room, but with fewer people, many of whom were well dressed, but less ostentatious.
Mostly.
The men all had nice suits on, with variations between richly appointed business suits, old style tuxedo’s, or more modern fashionable dinner suits. The women though, they had a wild assortment of dresses of every range I’d ever seen or heard of, and I’d been dragged to a few balls during, and briefly after the war, and so had seen quite a few. Men can be vain over various things, but women take it to a whole other level and art form.
Some dresses and suits were very bright, designed to demand attention, while others were subtle with delicate patterns and layers. Some were slim, practical and still elegant, while others were large, like a living, walking brightly colored tea set. Still others had shoals, cloaks, even capes worked into them.
And the hairstyles were something else.
Frankly, I was a little worried someone had slipped something into my drink, except I hadn’t had a chance to get a drink yet. Being stone cold sober while surrounded by a crowd of women who put every doll or child’s drawing of bizarre beauty to shame was a hazy experience all on its own. And the character and confidence needed to wear some of these outfits and styles out into public was almost as big as the dresses.
Still, many also had what I now recognized as coppersmith accessories worked into, onto, and around their suits and dresses. Some even had odd looking monocles, glasses, goggles, or bizarre eyepatches that some coppersmith had rigged up for them. It made them all appear stranger, almost otherworldly; as though I was surrounded by travelers from another world, and another age.
Coming from the Frontier, this was a very bizarre sight for me indeed.
But fascinating, and a lot of fun.
Many glanced over at us with surprise and interest, all quiet and muted but very intense.
Frankly I’d had easier times walking into saloons filled with drunk criminal groups. Most seemed to find us odd, or mildly amusing, while others got that rich person look of superior contempt.
However, some seemed utterly fascinated by us.
Even more so when they realized just how heavily armed both Maggie and I were.
I gathered that not a lot of people wore small arsenals to events like this. Who knew? Still, while that seemed to make some worried, others looked excited. I felt like an animal at some zoo.
Well, may as well enjoy it. I thought with a smile, and made a flourish of taking off my hat and bowing before flipping it back on and resting my hand on my sword hilt.
Plenty chuckled at that.
Several of the well-to-do women looked oddly flushed, which worried me. And then there was Maggie, who I could feel quietly purring on my arm.
I turned back to Maggie, who was giving me an odd, almost hungry look of her own as she purred, but before any of us could speak an Usher walked in and called out in a loud voice that practically startled the spellbound crowd.
“Mr. Andrew Carnegie and his wife, Louise Whitfield Carnegie.” It was like he was announcing royalty, and the Carnegie’s entered the room as if they were royalty.
Though to be fair, in this setting, they basically were.
The man in question strolled in through the doors, a beautiful woman on his arm in a simple, elegant dark green single piece dress. She had short cut brown hair, soft features, and also wore long white gloves on her arms and a tiara on her head. That one piece of jewelry she wore I was pretty sure was worth enough to have bought half my families ranch.
Taken together she really did look like royalty.
Carnegie himself wore a very simple, but obviously high quality tuxedo, which stood out for not having any of the coppersmith devices on it or being overly flashy or extravagant. The guy knew how to draw the eye, even when it was by being not flashy, when everyone else was, but to be at the center of attention, allowing him to stand out all the more because of it. Basically saying he was above the various fashion obsessions such as gadgets on his clothes.
Clever guy. I thought with a mental salute to him.
“Welcome all!” He called out, gesturing around himself to us. “I hope you enjoy tonight’s feast for the ears! And I hope my wife is pleased with the hall she asked me to build for our great city!”
“His wife asked him to build it?” Maggie muttered next to me as everyone applauded. “That’s why he did it?”
“If it works and your husband is richer than most countries, why not?” I whispered back with a chuckle.
“It’s quite the building indeed.” A tall man remarked, walking towards Carnegie with a sharp smile, and a fine suit of his own. “It’ll be interesting to see how it sounds. I don’t think anyone has ever built a hall quite like this one.”
The words; for a reason hung in the air, even if they went unsaid.
I had to blink at that in quiet shock!
Who the hell is this guy to walk up and basically insult him like this? I wondered. I mean sure, it was a subtle insult, but seriously, what the hell?
“So good to see you too, John.” Carnegie chuckled as he reached out and shook the mans hand. His own smile was sharp as well.
Clearly these two knew, and if I had to guess, hated each other.
And from the looks of it, Mrs. Carnegie knew as well, though she just looked quietly exasperated.
“Andrew.” John replied with a smile. “Louise. You’re looking as lovely as this hall.”
“Mr. Rockefeller, a pleasure as always.” Mrs. Carnegie replied warmly, even while still looking exasperated.
Rockefeller? I thought, blinking in shock yet again. As in John D. Rockefeller?
“Where’s Laura?” Mrs. Carnegie asked, looking around. “It’s not like her to be absent.”
“She’s overseeing our daughters wedding plans.” Rockefeller chuckled. “It’s becoming quite the event within the house. And actually has her traveling around checking on the makers of china’s and various dressmakers and so on. Afraid a night spent listening to beautiful music just didn’t interest her at the moment.”
“Shame.” Mrs. Carnegie smiled with a nod. “She and I get along about as well as you two don’t.”
They all laughed at that one, and the tension bled away, mostly.
“Oh, they just have a healthy competition.” Another man chuckled as he strolled up to the group. He was very well dressed as well, smoking a cigar and giving off similar air John and Andrew.
The air of someone who knew about money that came from success.
“It’s good for them,” the man continued as he reached the group. “Keeps them growing and improving. Once you become stagnant, you put yourself at risk of being bought out by competitors.”
“Something I’m sure you’re all too familiar with JP.” Andrew nodded to the man. “You wouldn’t be eyeing my business still, would you?”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Heard you had a little trouble with that firebrand CEO of yours.” JP replied. “If ever you want to sell, I’m happy to talk terms. I’m sure it hurts to have to clean up after your employees all the time.”
“Something I hear you’re learning about.” Rockefeller remarked, smiling viciously at JP now. “How goes your new business venture with that Edison fella you’re working with? Had any trouble getting the public to buy into the new technology?”
“None at all, despite someone running a media campaign against us,” JP chuckled while facing down Rockefeller with a predatory grin. “It almost feels like someone who thinks they own the Light Game in the Union is insecure about their competition.”
“Should you really be speaking of cleaning up messes, or of competition in the field of light though?” Andrew asked, grinning at JP. “How’s that growing war between your man Edison, and Westinghouse’s man Tesla shaping up? After all, I had them wire up this building with AC electricity, simply because it was so much cheaper. And I didn’t need to build this hall anywhere near a power plant for it.”
“Edison and I are the ones bringing electricity to New York.” JP shrugged, though to my eyes Andrew had hit a nerve. “All they’re doing is building generators, and occasionally some lightbulbs. If you want to light up a whole city, you talk to Edison Electric, and me.”
“Speaking of competitions though,” Rockefeller cut in with a grin. “I hope you all remembered ours for this big event?”
“Of course!” Andrew nodded, and then strode forward to the crowd, while I was still trying to come to terms with what I had just witnessed.
That being some of the richest, most powerful men in the country at the moment, taking potshots at one another. What the hell? I wondered, shaking my head in exasperation.
I suddenly understood Mrs. Carnegie’s sentiments towards those guys so much more now.
Still, before I could ponder the implications of that any further, Andrew Carnegie began speaking in a loud, showman’s style voice, catching the attention of everyone in the room.
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” He called out. “My fellow industrialist colleges and I, including the famous J.P. Morgan and the infamous John D. Rockefeller, decided to have a little competition for this opening night at Carnegie Hall.”
The crowd chuckled at that, with many rolling their eyes.
“I know, I know, what else is new, right?” He asked, chuckling alongside them in self depreciation. “Still, we thought this one would be more interesting. And it’s very simple. ‘Who could bring the most famous guest?’”
That got the crowds attention. These rich folks need to get out more. I thought, amused at their strange obsession with the exotic.
Though finding myself being viewed as some form of exotic animal was a bit of a new experience for me.
Usually it was just awe, fear, or wariness.
“As I am the host, I shall go first, and it seems I have already upped the ante, as I have two instead of one!” Andrew nodded before he turned and gestured to me. “He’s only been in the city for a matter of days, but has made the headlines several times! Books and songs have been written about him, and he’s left his stamp on the history of our nation already! And by his side, a woman who is both infamous for her dangerous fighting, and intriguing for her success at surviving and even thriving on the mean streets of the infamous Five Points.”
The crowd turned to stare at us once again, now very intrigued.
“Please welcome my guests tonight; Jake Ranger and Maggie Carson. Otherwise known to the country, and possibly the world, as the Wild Ranger, and Hell Cat Maggie.” Carnegie clapped his hands with a broad smile.
The crowd oohed and ahhed appropriately, looking at Maggie and me the way children look at exotic animals in a zoo.
Sighing internally, I smiled, pulled off my hat and did a over the top bow to everyone, much to their delight. Maggie smiled with lots of teeth, and then did a textbook perfect curtesy as she did so, complete with her tail waving back and forth.
“I can’t help but wonder at the guests my fellow colleges have brought in this evening though.” Andrew said after a moment, grinning, since he apparently set the bar so damn high with us. “Shall we all find out?”
The crowd was loving the show, and I had to admit I was more amused than annoyed at the whole thing, and chose to smile as I watched this silliness play out. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Maggie looked like she was having the time of her life waving at the many well dressed children who were staring at us in amazement.
“Well, it’s tough to beat a two for one deal,” Rockefeller called out, stepping up to the center of the room, before gesturing to a side door. “However, quality often wins out over quantity.”
“I do believe we were just insulted.” I muttered to Maggie, unable to decide if I should laugh or be furious.
“Of course we were.” Maggie chuckled with a roll of her eyes. “This is a vanity competition, and Carnegie just set the challenge bar very high. It’s standard opening moves to push back whenever it’s your turn.”
“Must be a city thing.” I muttered, shaking my head.
“It’s a competition thing.” Maggie laughed quietly. “Location has nothing to do with it.”
“True enough.” I conceded as I, like everyone else, looked over at the door Rockefeller had gestured at.
“One of the favored granddaughters of Queen Victoria herself, the ruling queen of one of the largest empires on the planet! Declared to be one of the most beautiful women in Europe. So beautiful in fact, they say she ‘brings tears to the eyes,’ and has had all the royalty of Europe clamoring for her hand in marriage ever since.”
I quirked an eyebrow at Maggie at that statement, and she grinned back cheekily. “This aught to be good.” She giggled quietly.
“Please welcome, one of the famous Hesse Sisters, Princess Elisabeth, fondly known by all, as Ella, or Princess Ella.” Rockefeller called out, clapping as the door opened and a indeed beautiful woman in a most eloquent dress stepped out into the room, a bright smile on her face.
She had wavy, dirty blonde hair done up in a little bun, pale skin, blue eyes, lush red lips, and a smooth, soft face that held quiet, dignified beauty. She wore a white dress in classic royal style with long sleeves that had openings at the shoulders, so they draped around her arms, rather than actually being proper sleeves. The dress wasn’t overly opulent, but instead emphasized her hourglass figure, with a small plunge around her bust, showcasing a body sculpted along the fine line between beautiful and enticing.
She curtsied to the room, showing off the ruby’s on the loose golden belt she wore as they hung on golden chains around her waist. She had a diamond necklace, and a few beautiful rings, as well as a pair of small earrings. As she came back up, I saw an actual tiara in her hair, one of the mini-crowns that princess’s were allowed to officially wear.
All of it tasteful rather than gaudy.
“Thank you all for the wonderful introduction and warm welcome.” She said in a soft, kind voice that quieted the room. “I only hope all the other legends welcome me alongside them. After all, royalty are born, but legends are made.”
“Be welcome at our fire princess.” I called out before I could stop myself, my voice carrying farther than I thought it would. “Royal or legend, all must face down death in the end. Come join us, and we can eat, drink and be merry together, while we’re all still alive.”
“Well said, and I agree.” Maggie purred, smiling a surprisingly soft smile. “You have asked, rather than demanded, as most with crowns would have. Already you set yourself apart. Come and be welcome, as we enjoy the show. And besides, I’ve always wanted to meet a real live princess!”
The room laughed and applauded, and Princess Ella blushed slightly before she gracefully walked over to us. She bowed slightly to Rockefeller as she did so, which brought a smile to his face, as the whole room seemed to follow her every graceful step.
I had to admit, in this case Rockefeller had been right; she really was beautiful. The kind of beauty that men and dragons would covet and kill for, to claim as theirs, and lock away in a treasure vault. So that only they could look upon her, have her, and know that everyone else was jealous and filled with envy.
I blinked and shook my head, chucking at myself.
For some reason, I seemed to be channeling my more poetic brothers and sisters tonight. Hopefully it wouldn’t stick. I liked poetry, but generally only in small doses.
“Well now, guess it’s my turn!” JP Morgan called out, laughing after Princess Ella had joined us, shaking our hands as she did so.
“Unless someone else would like to take a stab at it?”
“I will!” A young man replied, stepping forward with a woman on either arm, all of them finely dressed. “I think my guest will crack the bar Andrew has made.”
“Still trying to fit in your fathers shoes William?” Rockefeller sighed, a small, smug smile on his face. “He wouldn’t have needed to jump the line.”
“Neither he, nor I, ever cared to wait in line.” William replied, facing Rockefeller with a cold look. “We made the lines for others to follow. Or hadn’t you realized that, John?”
The two men stared each other down for a moment before Carnegie coughed and gestured to the young man. “Very well young Mr. Vanderbilt. And who have you brought tonight?”
“A famous writer, whose works have put the literature of our country on the map of the world, and whose works and name will likely outlive all of us in this room, no matter how young.” William Vanderbilt replied, gesturing to another door, and I now noticed that this room had several doors in it.
In walked an older man, with wild wavy hair and a large handlebar mustache, both of which were salt and peppery, though with more salt than pepper, wearing an immaculate white suit.
“Allow me to introduce, Samuel Langhorne Clemens.” The young Vanderbilt announced as the man stepped out to the center of the room, smiling and nodding to the curious crowd. “Better known to all, as Mr. Mark Twain!”
I blinked at that one!
The author of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer? I thought, staring at the man. Wow! My brothers would be so jealous right now!
I couldn’t help but smile as I tipped my hat to him when he looked over at us, and he nodded back with a wink.
The crowd applauded, and bowed to them before holding up a hand. “I have often said to do good. For this will gratify some, and astonish the rest. Tonight, I find myself in the company of many who have astonished the whole world, on many levels, across many years. It’s a most humbling experience.”
He nodded to the crowd around him, which they ate up, but his eyes found me, Maggie and Ella, and he winked at us again. I smiled and waved him over, and he came with a smile, shaking my hand while kissing Maggie’s and Ella’s.
“This is fun!” Maggie purred to me, as she and Ella whisper-gossiped to each other. It seemed that the princess and the gangster woman were well on their way to becoming fast friends.
“Who’d have thought?” I chuckled back as Mark Twain came to stand next to me.
“The night’s barely young yet, youngsters.” He chuckled. “A few more legends are waiting in the wings.”
I glanced at him but he only smiled and gestured back to the main room.
Turning I saw a pair of large men push their way over to Carnegie and the others. One I didn’t recognize, but one I did.
“Is that Boss Tweed?” I asked, blinking at the man.
“Who else would elbow their way up to the richest men in the country as though it were normal?” Maggie replied, chuckling as she and Ella turned to watch the show.
As did everyone else.
“Councilmen Tweed.” Andrew turned and shook their hands, both he and his wife had turned noticeably cooler in demeanor. “And Mr. Gould as well. What a nice surprise.”
“Mr. Carnegie.” Tweed replied, shaking Carnegie’s hand warmly. “A wonderful party, and even grander shindig! I hope you don’t mind, but my friend and I thought we might show off our own guests for this little competition.”
“Good to see you too Andrew.” Gould mock saluted with a smile. The man was large, well dressed with a large and long beard, and for some reason, struck me as a troublemaker.
“And who have you brought?” Carnegie asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. Next to him, Rockefeller looked annoyed, while both Morgan and Vanderbilt looked pissed.
“For me, a famous, and even infamous, lawman of the Frontier.” Tweed called out, gesturing around the room grandly before glancing over at me with a smile. “Someone from your neck of the woods, Wild Ranger.”
“And that is?” Carnegie asked, clearly refusing to let the man grandstand for long.
“Why, Mr. Wyatt Earp himself!” Tweed called out. “As well as his beautiful wife Josephine.”
A tall man in a nice suit and jacket with a badge on it stepped out, a beautiful woman in a light blue dress on his arm. He was the picture of a boom town marshal: mustache, guns, hat, boots and all.
“Howdy folks!” He called out, raising his hat above his head before shaking Tweeds hand. “It’s looking to be one hell of a night! Thanks for having us!”
The crowd applauded and a few even cheered as the Earps made their way over to us.
When they reached us, Wyatt walked up to me and stared me down. “Jake.”
“Wyatt.” I replied, equally stoic.
We held that quiet pose for a moment longer, getting everyone’s attention, before we burst out laughing and shook one another’s hands, slapping each other on the back.
“It’s good to see you again you rascal!” I laughed before I turned to his amused wife. “And you’re looking lovely as ever Josephine.”
“Sadie.” She replied, mock glaring at me. “Everyone calls me Sadie. Including me. As you well know you wandering troublemaker.”
“A thousand apologies my dear, cherished Sadie.” I laughed, mock bowing to her in response. She simply stuck her tongue out at me before giggling.
“I think we’re going to get along swell.” Maggie purred at Sadie.
“I’m hopeful as well.” Sadie smiled at her in that knowing way only women can ever really pull off.
“This is the quite the shindig we’ve been invited too.” Wyatt chuckled as he stood next to me and Mark Twain.
“Getting more bizarre by the minute.” I muttered back to him as everyone’s attention turned back to the rich guys.
“And you Gould?” Vanderbilt asked with no small amount of contempt. “Got anyone special?”
“Special enough boy.” Gould replied with a mean smile to young Vanderbilt. “My guest is one who plays no favorites! A writer as well, but one who makes legends, finds secrets, and holds the powerful to account! A most persistently, and dangerously stubborn woman who’s helped shape recent history with her own pen.”
He gestured to a corner of the room, and a woman in trousers and various coppersmith gear stepped forward. She had googles on her forehead, a large, strange pistol strapped to her thigh, and brown trousers and a dark leather vest, all of which simply emphasized her feminine form. As did the knee high leather boots and low collared shirt.
I just stared, speechless, as the dusky skinned woman reached the center opening of the floor, before waving to the stunned crowd, a pencil and notebook in her hand.
“A pleasure to be thought of as so famous.” Lillianne Lancaster called out, smiling. “I shall endeavor to try and live up to it, Mr. Gould.”
She nodded to him, then strutted, not walked but straight up strutted over to us, a big, smug smile on her face the whole time.
The crowd followed her every step, muttering, and I knew, even though she’d had no introduction like everyone else, they all knew who she was. Which told me she’d left more than a few marks on them with her pen, for these rich elite folks to know her on sight. I had to wonder if she’d blackmailed Gould, or if he’d brought her just to insult everyone in the room all on his own.
I had a feeling the odds of either were about even with those two.
“Oh what fun!” Maggie gasped out, giggling so hard she was leaning heavily on me for support. I just groaned quietly.
“Well now, seems it’s finally my turn!” JP Morgan called out, even before Lillianne had finally reached us. I got the feeling he was tired of everyone cutting in front of him, and had finally decided to shove back.
His level of restraint was actually impressive, considering he was probably immensely powerful himself. And the powerful didn’t like being pushed aside for anything. Ever.
“My guest tonight is famous across the nation and the world!” Morgan smiled, gesturing to yet another door, which a servant opened. “One of the men who saved our nation from being torn in two! The man who won the war, and recently led our nation as president, though everyone still simply calls him General. General Ulysses S. Grant!”
I gaped as the man himself, in uniform, with his sidearms no less, and his wife on his arm, strode boldly up to the center of the room. He nodded to everyone with dignity, his famous close cropped full facial beard far more grey than salt and pepper now. He’d famously disdained overly flamboyant uniforms, and instead simply wore a modified privates uniform with his ranks sown onto the shoulders.
A tradition he kept up here, even though he technically wasn’t in the military anymore.
Though I’d dearly like the meet the person who would try and call Grant out on that, if only so I could punch them into silence myself.
The crowd gasped and exploded with applause, and I got the feeling Morgan had won this little contest.
“Something tells me we’re all fighting for second place.” Wyatt muttered with a smile.
“Yep.” I chuckled. “Tough to go up against the guy who saved the nation and won the civil war.”
“Tough indeed.” Twain chuckled, clapping as well. “But if you’re going to lose, it might as well be to a worthy opponent.”
“None worthier.” I whispered as Grant nodded to the crowd before he and his wife slowly walked over to join us, both smiling.
“I think this is going to be one hell of a night!” Maggie laughed as the famous war hero and former President reached us. “One hell of a night indeed.”