Fit the First
In which the captain of the American team entered in the Grand Ellipse meets a dreadful fate, and an unlikely assortment of hotel guests takes up his fallen banner.
The American Ellipse kicked off last night, although Doug was in New Jersey so I had to fly solo. (We had grand plans involving a webcam, wireless Internet and IM, which unfortunately failed to materialize.)
February 13, 1885. It was a dark and stormy night in Philadelphia; freezing rain pelting into half-frozen muddy slush. A few minutes after 11:00 PM, gunshots rang out on the fourth floor of the Society Hill hotel. Almost immediately thereafter, a body fell to the ground outside the dining room. A young lady from San Francisco succumbed to a fit of the vapors. A businessman from Chicago raced up the front stairs. A respectable Boston widow rushed outside, braving the weather to satisfy her curiosity, and collect some papers that were blowing about in the courtyard. (Was that a door slamming she heard at the back of the building?) A pair of Midwestern businesswomen in the ladies’ lounge emerged to find the hotel in an uproar. An elderly gentleman of Oriental extraction peered out of his patient’s room, but saw only a young man bounding up the stairs. And a drunken photographer missed the entire thing, despite his ringside seat.
The unfortunate individual in the courtyard turned out to be one William Guggenheim (of the New York Guggenheims), captain of the American team sponsored by (among others) his father, the mining magnate. An examination of the papers collected by the Boston widow seems to indicate that the TransAmerica team, as it is known, has been losing members left and right to injuries, disappearances, threats, and untimely demise; Guggenheim is only the latest. One of his bodyguards is dead, the other apparently frozen in place by some act of “wizardry” committed by one of three masked men. The Philadelphia Clarion’s most intrepid lady reporter, Miss Penelope Fletcher-Finch was first on the scene, long-suffering photographer Henry C. Watson in tow. Philly’s finest were not far behind; Detective O’Malley conducted careful interviews and collected evidence. Everyone was asked, as a potential witness, not to leave town or change hotels without first notifying the precinct.
The following day, official depositions were taken by the Philadelphia police. Isaac Guggenheim appeared in Philadelphia, to make arrangements for his brother. He also had a very private meeting with the gentleman from Chicago (Mr. Laughton). Certain plans were made; certain documents transferred. The show must go on, even if the cast is all understudies. The gentleman from Chicago accepted the captaincy of the TransAmerica Team. In between doing a little business with a representative of a Canadian railway, he managed to assemble his squad–the Boston widow (Mrs. Atwood), the senior Midwestern businesswoman (Miss Kingston), the Chinese medical practitioner (Dr. Hu), and the no-longer-drunken photographer (Mr. Carl).
Before Mr. Laughton can even finish sorting through the sheaf of documents transferred to him by the older Guggenheim brother, he receives a request for a meeting from a Mr. Luigi Cavatelli. Mr. Cavatelli “has the pleasure of representing a consortium of businessmen from the greater New York area, whose names I am sure you would recognize if I were to provide them, which I will not.” These businessmen have a considerable financial interest in the outcome of the American Ellipse, and are happy to assist the TransAmerica team in order to secure their victory. Unfortunately, Mr. Cavatelli’s principals are not the only ones who have a considerable financial interest in the outcome. One Nicholas Finnegan, whose principals are likewise a consortium of businessmen (from Boston) have made it quite clear that they are not supporting the TransAmerica team in this venture.
And so, we find ourselves at the main rain junction in Philadelphia, awaiting the 3:00 train to New York City, from whence Our Heroes will seek transport to the starting point of the Grand Ellipse–Panama City.
Quote of the game: “He’s not well!” –Mrs. Atwood’s niece, describing the unfortunate condition of Mr. W. Guggenheim
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July 23rd, 2004 at 9:05 am
Please note that the “Boston widow” was not involved in a “Boston marriage.” (Not that there is anything wrong with that.)
July 23rd, 2004 at 5:11 pm
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