/the Macedonia Hotel, Chapter 11
The Macedonia Hotel
A NANOWRIMO
Relay writing project
By the Wayne writers Guild
Completed July 2016
The Macedonia Hotel
(This fictional piece is the product of a relay writing project by the Wayne Writer’s Guild In honor of NANOWRIMO-2015. Any resemblance to real events, people, places, or things is a coincidence and neither intended nor implied to be real and accurate.)
I extend my thanks and gratitude to the contributors who shared their time and talents to make this NANOWRIMO Relay Writing Project possible.
The individual chapters are the intellectual property of the author.
Special thanks are extended to John Cieslinski for his generous use of the book store’s back room.
–Kate Chamberlin, Coordinating Editor
July 20, 2016
Wayne Writers Guild
Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month
Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY
John Cieslinski, Owner
78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502
Phone 585-474-4116
Chapter 11
The Mysterious Visitor
By C. A. Stahr
He appeared one afternoon. He wasn’t much observed. He was a quite ordinary man. One would not look twice in his direction. His clothing was out of fashion by any measure, a bit frayed and perhaps somewhat musty smelling. He wasn’t tall or short, thin or obese. His coloring was kind of a golden brown, like a Native American’s perhaps. His hair was long, but tidy – pulled back in what was called a ponytail and tied with a silver string that sparkled in the afternoon sunlight.
Well, actually, he was observed by one person – that was me. I was on the front desk. My shift had commenced at 1 o’clock and it had been a typically boring afternoon. Not much happened at the Macedonia until 8:00 or 9:00 o’clock in the evening. Ours is a pretty quiet town. I would describe it as “dull.” Anyway, I noticed the man because he was the only guest to arrive that afternoon and I was hungry for something to do.
He approached the front desk and requested a suite for a week’s stay. A suite, I chuckled, where did he think he was?
“The closest thing we have to a suite is a queen bedroom with a private bathroom,” I responded.
“Well then,” he said, “I suppose that will have to do young man” – he peered at my name tag and said: “Mr. Frank, that is. Is there someone to take my bags to my room?” he queried.
“That would be me,” I told him and accepted his trunk key to retrieve his bags.
When I returned to the lobby, the mysterious Mr. Wayne was nowhere to be seen. I shrugged and went about my business. What a strange man, I thought. He hadn’t stated his business in Macedon and I had neglected to ask.
Mr. Wayne returned a bit later and asked to speak with the Hotel Manager.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “You can tell the Hotel Manager I wish to speak with him.”
“Yes, sir,” I responded, somewhat put off by his officious manner.
As it happens, Ms Davis entered the lobby just as I was about to go in search of her. “Ms Davis,” I said softly. “This gentleman has requested a word with you.”
“But, of course. Will you come this way, Mr . . .?
“Wayne,” he supplied. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with me.
So off they went to the manager’s office. They were in there for some time and finally emerged, both in a somber mood, it seemed.
“Frankie,” Ms Davis instructed. “Please give Mr. Wayne a tour of our fine hotel. Take the pass keys and allow him to inspect anything he wishes.”
“Ah,” thought I. “Must be a Safety Inspector or a Zoning Inspector, or some kind of official. Boy, is he in for an eye full.”
Mr. Wayne looked in every nook and cranny of our hotel. He inspected the boiler room, not just the boiler, but every inch of the room. He instructed me to open every guest room and he actually entered every room, made notes, pulled back curtains, looked out windows, measured closets, and counted the number of rooms per bathroom on each floor.
Then we climbed to the attic level where all the unused furniture and stuff are kept. Now that is one hot and dusty place in the middle of August, I can tell you. We moved dusty furniture, pushed boxes and trunks around, measured windows and checked out lighting fixtures. He spent long minutes peering out the windows at the landscaping and the surrounding buildings. A funny duck was he. He uttered nary a word to me, only mumbled and hmmmm’d and whistled every once in a while. I sure was getting weary of this adventure, I can tell you.
“Next stop,” sang out Mr. Wayne, “the cupola room.”
Now, I’m no sissy, but I avoid the cupola room at all costs. I’m not afraid of much, but I don’t figure to meet up with any ghost if I can help it. However, since it was my job, I gingerly guided Mr. Wayne up the stairs to the cupola room. A rocking chair was rocking gently with a soft creak as we entered the room. There was no one in the room. The windows were closed and there was no draft. The room was dusty from unuse, but the chair continued to rock, back and forth, back and forth. I stood in the doorway, prepared for a quick retreat.
“Hmmm, fascinating,” Mr. Wayne mused. He then circled the room, took measurements, peered out of each window, circled the room again and sat down in the rocking chair. It stopped rocking. I gulped quietly. Mr. Wayne took his notebook from his jacket and began writing hurriedly. I waited.
After a considerable time, Mr. Wayne asked me to escort him to the roof. “The roof?” I asked. “Yes, Mr. Frank, the roof.” he repeated in his most patient voice. So, to the roof we went. I thrust open the trap door amidst cobwebs and sawdust and led the way to the rooftop. Here we stood for long moments. Mr. Wayne strolled to the very edge, peered over, scratched his head, walked the entire perimeter of the rooftop and jotted down some more notes. “What could he possibly find interesting enough to take notes on?” I wondered.
Finally, Mr. Wayne replaced his notebook inside his jacket pocket and told me to lead the way down. We returned to the lobby where Ms Davis was waiting for him.
“Thank you for your invaluable help. Mr. Frank,” he said, and motioned Ms Davis to return with him to her office. And off they went leaving me with a zillion questions and zero answers.
“Not my concern,” I cautioned myself. And I returned to the front desk to sign in a guest who was just entering the lobby.
But, of course, I kept glancing at Ms Davis’s office door, wondering what was transpiring behind it. I am unnerved by closed doors. They bring the most perplexing possibilities to my vivid imagination.
Several hours later the usual crowd began to filter in through the lobby and to who-knows-what-party, as always. My unfounded fear was that Mr. Wayne would exit Ms Davis’s office while these rag-a-tags were traipsing through the lobby and think poorly of our hotel. “Now, where did that come from?” I wondered. “You’d think it was my establishment and, of course, I’m just a grunt here. But, I do take pride in our hotel.”
I went off duty at 9 o’clock and still had not seen Mr. Wayne emerge from Ms Davis’s office. The suspense was killing me. “Oh, well,” I consoled myself, “Ms Davis will probably fill me in in the morning.
The next day was Friday and I went on duty at 1:00 o’clock, like always. The hotel was all abuzz with tenants, local merchants, and various Macedon residents in clusters around the lobby. Now, the Macedonia Hotel may not be the Ritz, but we do have a very large impressive lobby. “What’s going on,” I asked John, the Proprietor of Books, Etc. as I pinned on my name tag and glanced around the front desk to be certain everything was in place. John handed me the Macedon Post and there on the front page was a color photo of Mr. Wayne with a cover story that read:
MULTI-MILLIONAIRE PURCHASES MACEDONIA HOTEL
Mr. David Wayne (of the Wayne County Waynes) has purchased the Macedonia Hotel for $3.9M. Mr. Wayne states that he has had his eye on this hotel for several years and has exciting plans for its renovation. Several floors will be added to include such amenities as a heated Olympic size pool, an exercise room, a unisex hair salon, a 5-star restaurant, a Club Room and several well-appointed suites. “I will make the Macedonia a Grand Hotel in its own right,” said Mr. Wayne. Several surrounding buildings have also been purchased and will be replaced by a multi-level parking garage and a luxurious park surrounding the hotel.
The purchase goes hand-in-hand with a Casino that Mr. Wayne will build on Route 31 – just a short distance from the Hotel. The Wayne Complex will boast a world-class Water Park as an added incentive to patrons who wish to combine their Casino junket with family vacation. “Travel by highway, canal and a newly created air-strip will bring Casino patrons from all over New England at the very least,” is Mr. Wayne’s prediction.
When asked what will happen to the current residents of the Hotel, Mr. Wayne responded: “Well, of course, I have made provision for everyone who will be affected by my plans. I am presently negotiating with a local contractor to build affordable apartments on the Route 31 corridor near Macedon proper. No one will be displaced as a result of new ownership.”
Once refurbished, Mr. Wayne will reside at the Hotel in the Cupola Room Suite. He has expressed great interest in this particular part of the Hotel. Perhaps, he knows something the rest of us don’t?
It seems that Mr. Wayne has thought of everything. And Macedon will soon be a thriving city with ancillary businesses to support the Wayne complex of Hotel, Casino and Airstrip. These are indeed exciting times for Macedon, NY.
John watched as I read the article, a wide smile on his mischievous face. “What do you think of that, Frankie?” he chirped.
“Well, I’ll be,” I mused. “Who’d have thought that unimpressive man with his frayed coat and dusty shoes was a billionaire? His quiet ways and straightforward manner gave no clue to his place in society. As you’ve often said, John, you just can’t judge a book by its cover!”
Author Bio:
- A. Stahr was born in the Finger Lakes area, lived in various eastern USA locations and returned to our area in 2011 after her husband, Alan, passed away. Anne has three children and three granddaughters. Ms Stahr earned her B.S. at Columbia College and devoted more than 25 years to Human Resources Management. She is a Literacy Volunteer, gardener, avid reader and aspiring writer, as well as a valued member of the Wayne Writers Guild.
castahr@gmail.com>
Wayne Writers Guild
Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month
Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY
John Cieslinski, Owner
78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502
Phone 585-474-4116
/the Macedonia Hotel, Chapter 10
The Macedonia Hotel
A NANOWRIMO
Relay writing project
By the Wayne writers Guild
Completed July 2016
The Macedonia Hotel
(This fictional piece is the product of a relay writing project by the Wayne Writer’s Guild In honor of NANOWRIMO-2015. Any resemblance to real events, people, places, or things is a coincidence and neither intended nor implied to be real and accurate.)
I extend my thanks and gratitude to the contributors who shared their time and talents to make this NANOWRIMO Relay Writing Project possible.
The individual chapters are the intellectual property of the author.
Special thanks are extended to John Cieslinski for his generous use of the book store’s back room.
–Kate Chamberlin, Coordinating Editor
July 20, 2016
Wayne Writers Guild
Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month
Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY
John Cieslinski, Owner
78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502
Phone 585-474-4116
Chapter 10:
The Time Traveler
By Anon E. Mous
I, too, am a traveler; a traveler of time and parallel worlds. The first time I visited Macedon, the rolling, irregular hills rose from the valley of the Mud Creek. The soil of clay and gravelly loam upon a limestone formation supported verdant grasses and deciduous trees.
When next I visited, Webb Harwood and Ebenezer Reed had settled here. Perhaps, the year was 1789 or there a-bouts. The Town of Macedon is named after the birthplace of Alexander the Great, in the Greek province of Macedonia, Greece. I recall the first child born was Enoch Gannett, in 1791.
Once the Macedonia Hotel was constructed in 1888, the cupola became my favorite portal of entry.
I witnessed Sir Robert, who had experienced many lives because he was a Dragon in human form, bestow a very special gift upon his wife, Maria. She had been granted the gift of becoming a Crystal Dragon.
One evening, there was a beautiful lady viewing the town from that lofty vantage point when I came through the portal.
Though deceased, Mrs. Bonnie Black and I spent many pleasurable hours together each time I came to visit. In other times and in other worlds, she wasn’t the tragic figure she became in this parallel.
Billy was alive and as snarky as ever when the boy, Randy, escorted the blind girl, Grace, out of the hotel into the snow storm, presumably to take her home to 12 Stone Street. Big Bertha’s party was in full swing, so, the salesman, Bradley, had to put two pillows over his head to block out the noise. He was impervious to the actual snow storm outside and the virtual storm brewing inside the hotel. Even Hughey , satiated with connubial bliss with Rosa, was sound asleep in their basement lair, unaware that the lights were out and needed his attention.
I happened to be in the lobby to witness who murdered Billy Beckwith. She was too busy to notice me this time, but, I hung around to see the chaos she’d caused.
The Chief of Police, Captain Carl, reluctantly left his burger and fries in the Hungry House Café to trudge out into the storm across Main Street when the frantic call from the dispatcher came in.
“I’m sick and tired of being called to that hotel for nothing,” Captain Carl grumbled to himself. “The last time I had to go in there, it turned out that old Frank and Ryan were up to their cock-a-Maymie schemes. That one was about robbing a bank. Yeesh! I wonder what it is this time.”
Captain Carl panned his big Maglight® torch around the lobby. Its beam caught some college kid with a cell phone plastered to her ear. She froze like a deer caught in head-lights. When she thawed, she pointed to Billy, slumped over the check-in counter.
Captain Carl cleared the lobby of milling people, by herding them into the back dining room. I escaped upstairs to look for the Lady.
I found the Lady up in her cupola, crumpled in the musty rocking chair.
“I had to do it. That reprobate was letting my beautiful hotel disintegrate into disrepair and degradation,” she sobbed. “I had to stop his black heart from not caring. I can’t rest in peace until it’s all settled.”
Since I’d already visited this place in the future, I’d seen the shabby man come into the lobby and what he eventually did. I shared the future of the Macedonia hotel and the Town of Macedon with her.
She put her pale hand lightly on mine, she whispered, “Thank you.” as her thin, blue veined lids closed over her vivid, crystal green eyes for the last time. I traveled with her for a short while on her journey, but, I had other times to travel to and other parallel worlds to explore.
Author Bio:
Kate Chamberlin
kathryngc@juno.com
“Dream it. Write it. Read it.”
Wayne Writers Guild
Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month
Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY
John Cieslinski, Owner
78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502
Phone 585-474-4116
The Macedonia Hotel, Chapter 9
The Macedonia Hotel
A NANOWRIMO
Relay writing project
By the Wayne writers Guild
Completed July 2016
The Macedonia Hotel
(This fictional piece is the product of a relay writing project by the Wayne Writer’s Guild In honor of NANOWRIMO-2015. Any resemblance to real events, people, places, or things is a coincidence and neither intended nor implied to be real and accurate.)
I extend my thanks and gratitude to the contributors who shared their time and talents to make this NANOWRIMO Relay Writing Project possible.
The individual chapters are the intellectual property of the author.
Special thanks are extended to John Cieslinski for his generous use of the book store’s back room.
–Kate Chamberlin, Coordinating Editor
July 20, 2016
Wayne Writers Guild
Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month
Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY
John Cieslinski, Owner
78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502
Phone 585-474-4116
Chapter 9:
Rosa
By John Cieslinski
Seven years ago, Raul Ortiz passed away. Every day Maria thought of her husband, especially as she did her chores at The Macedonia Hotel.
She was the housekeeper. She worked with another woman, Agnes. Agnes tended to be a little dour, but the two of them were decent to each other and often took their coffee breaks together.
As she ripped the soiled linens off the bed, she would think about the nights she and Raul spent together. They didn’t have any children, but not from lack of trying. When she put the clean sheets on she thought about how gentle and loving Raul was and how she missed his simple touch or the bear-like hugs he would embrace her with.
She was very careful about her work. She knew Raul was watching and she did everything for him.
And now she was very bothered and as she vacuumed the rugs she had a great wave of guilt rush over her, but she tried to push it away and remember how Raul would bring her a rose. He loved Saint Theresa and prayed to her. He told Rosa that every rose was a sign; a sign from God. A sign from heaven that blessings are there for each of us.
She had asked Agnes about the problem she was having; not exactly an easy thing to understand or put into words. but Agnes got the idea, and of course, she spoke her disapproval very strongly. Yet, Rosa couldn’t stop thinking.
As she cleaned the bath tub, Rosa thought about their hands touching, but, it wasn’t Raul’s hand that made her blush and feel guilty again. She was loyal to Raul and she loved him and now this something else was forcing its way into her thoughts…into her very being.
“Raul, please, please forgive me. He touched my hand, but, I will always be loyal to you. He says he loves me. He is a good man. His name is Hughey and he says he will take care of me. What should I do?”
She wiped out the sink and replenished the little bottles of toiletry items, placing each one carefully in the tray, almost with love as if trying to send love to Raul, but, her eyes were filled with tears.
When her work was finished, she went to her locker in the basement and tried to avoid Hughey’s eyes as he looked so longingly toward her. Near the handle of her locker there was a little heart sticker that she knew he’d put there.
As she walked home, her mind was racing. “Raul, let me know what to do. You have always guided me. You are always there.”
Rosa unlocked the door to her apartment and took off her jacket. She turned and then gasped. Her hands flew to her heart. She had her answer: on the pillow on her bed was a long stem red rose.
Author Bio:
John Cieslinski is a gregarious and warm man who hosts our Wayne Writers Guild in his small, but mighty store, aptly named Books, Etc. in Macedon, NY. He is not only a published poet and playwright, but, a retired teacher and tutor of Spanish, French, German and Latin. He is a proponent of the Abundance Theories. John knows putting books, writers, and coffee together will spark something that is electrifying and magical every time.
Wayne Writers Guild
Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month
Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY
John Cieslinski, Owner
78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502
Phone 585-474-4116
The Macedonia Hotel, Chapter 8
The Macedonia Hotel
A NANOWRIMO
Relay writing project
By the Wayne writers Guild
Completed July 2016
The Macedonia Hotel
(This fictional piece is the product of a relay writing project by the Wayne Writer’s Guild In honor of NANOWRIMO-2015. Any resemblance to real events, people, places, or things is a coincidence and neither intended nor implied to be real and accurate.)
I extend my thanks and gratitude to the contributors who shared their time and talents to make this NANOWRIMO Relay Writing Project possible.
The individual chapters are the intellectual property of the author.
Special thanks are extended to John Cieslinski for his generous use of the book store’s back room.
–Kate Chamberlin, Coordinating Editor
July 20, 2016
Wayne Writers Guild
Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month
Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY
John Cieslinski, Owner
78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502
Phone 585-474-4116
Chapter 8
Frank’s Plan
By Alex S. Reid
They sat drinking coffee and enjoying a cheeseburger with extra fries at the Hungry House Cafe.
Frank was tall, slim, and serious looking. He wore glasses and had a wild mop of graying hair. His blue dungaree jacket matched his jeans. He was the more adventurous of the two. Ryan was quieter, more thoughtful, and slow to make decisions. He was twenty pounds overweight with a chubby, red face, and a shaved head. He fiddled nervously with a plastic spoon.
These two guys, old friends from High School, were broke, unemployed and divorced. One had two daughters in Nursing School; the other had a son in the Military. They had a few things in common, such as, they were both in their early fifties and real losers. For a number of reasons, good fortune had somehow passed them by.
“Ever wonder where we went wrong?” Frank asked, while still chewing and watching a pretty waitress wiping off nearby tables. “We had big plans, remember? Neither of us were the sharpest knife in the drawer, but not the dumbest either.”
“Yeah right,” Ryan agreed. “I was a pretty good mechanic. Remember that old ’59 Chevy Impala? I bought it for next to nothing, rebuilt the engine and transmission, sold it and made a bundle. So where are we going Frank? How come we are such failures?” Ryan asked, as ketchup ran down his chin.
Frank passed him a napkin, and then continued. “Where are we going? Well I have a plan. It’s pretty obvious we need to make changes in our lives. Hell we’ve used up most of it already and here we sit, feeling sorry for ourselves. I live in a rented Mobile home. When it rains I catch water in a bucket from my leaking roof. Then there’s you, living in the rat-infested, ramshackle Macedonia Hotel with a bunch of weirdo’s. Hell, you’re probably the most normal tenant. So, we need to make dramatic changes. Ones that will make us rich…and fast. How are we gonna do that? Very simple. We rob a bank,” Frank said leaning back and waiting.
Ryan gave a look of sheer disbelief. “Yeah sure. Why the hell not. We need a little excitement, right? Let’s get the cops to chase us down the street like Butch
Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”
“I mean it,” Frank continued. “Listen, I’ve figured it all out. Spent weeks working out the details. I’ve cased the bank and even studied other bank jobs. The successful ones, and those which were not. The secret is all in the planning. Our bank job will work. It’s the perfect location: quiet, low traffic, no cops, ideal for a quick getaway,” said Frank.
“Oh God, he’s really serious. Listen to him. He invites me to The Hungry Café for a burger and now he’s talking me into knocking over a bank?” Ryan said, holding his head with both hands in a gesture of exasperation.
“Here’s my plan,” Frank continued. “We buy a wheelchair from Goodwill for say $30. Clean it so we don’t leave any fingerprints. I’m dressed as an old lady wearing a dress and a white wig. I’m pushing your wheelchair. You’re disguised in a hat, obviously to cover that bald head. Plus a beard, sunglasses and a huge white foot bandage. That’s a clever distraction so everyone feels sorry for you. We wait patiently in line. Then we hand the teller a note telling her to fill our black plastic bag with twenties, tens and fives. We show the teller our gun. Once our bag is filled I drop it on your lap then wheel you out the door. We then dump the wheelchair and your foot bandage and ride skate boards around the block. We then dump the skate boards, old lady’s dress and plastic bag with the money in a garbage can. We then stop in the nearby McDonald’s for coffee and a cheeseburger then sit and watch as cops drive around like crazy stopping cars and throwing up road blocks. We sit and wait until everything has quieted down, stroll outside, collect our money from the trash can, stuff it into my back pack, and head home. Is that brilliant or what?” Frank stopped, smiled, took a deep breath and waited for his friend’s response.
“Are you done?” Ryan asked. “Are you out of your small mind? Have you any idea how many things could go wrong? We’d get twenty years if we got caught. Armed robbery? Listen, I’m too good looking to go to prison. Those cons would pass me around like a peace pipe. You think our lives are miserable now? Try prison life?”
“I knew you’d find fault with my idea for getting rich,” Frank said. “You’re too negative. You have to learn to trust my judgment.”
Ryan grinned nervously. “Trust you? Are you crazy? He wants me to trust a guy who’s planning on robbing a bank. Listen. Maybe you are ugly enough to survive twenty years in jail, but not me. Sorry buddy, count me out. No sir, no thanks. I’ll take my chances flipping hamburgers.”
“That’s exactly the reason you were never successful. You’re too negative. You never learned to think outside the box. You have to be creative, use your imagination.” Frank said.
“Oh yeah. Well, imagine this. Fifteen hundred violent hairy cons in Attica. Tattoos, pumping iron, muscles like Schwarzenegger, haven’t seen a woman in years, and suddenly you are thrown in amongst them like raw meet in a lion’s cage. What are your chances? God I hate to think about it. No imagination you say? Oh boy, yes I do and it’s a damned nightmare. I’m sorry friend but I’m staying back at the Macedonia Hotel collecting my unemployment. I may have a few really strange neighbors, weird noises at night and even a ghost or two but its home. And what’s even stranger, I like the place,” Ryan said, standing suddenly before grabbing his jacket and heading out the door.
Author Bio:
Alex Reid has written stories since a small boy. His submissions to magazines met with ridicule, scorn and rejection. Finally, he self-published two books which he gives away to friends. Who’d buy them?
Mary, his wife of 53 years, is still his best friend. They have two sons, seven grandchildren, and a great-grandson. Retired, they live nearby in their old farmhouse on three acres of woods, fruit trees, wild flowers, and overgrown weeds.
areid3@rochester.rr.com
Wayne Writers Guild
Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month
Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY
John Cieslinski, Owner
78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502
Phone 585-474-4116
The Macedonia Hotel, Chapter 7
The Macedonia Hotel
A NANOWRIMO
Relay writing project
By the Wayne writers Guild
Completed July 2016
The Macedonia Hotel
(This fictional piece is the product of a relay writing project by the Wayne Writer’s Guild In honor of NANOWRIMO-2015. Any resemblance to real events, people, places, or things is a coincidence and neither intended nor implied to be real and accurate.)
I extend my thanks and gratitude to the contributors who shared their time and talents to make this NANOWRIMO Relay Writing Project possible.
The individual chapters are the intellectual property of the author.
Special thanks are extended to John Cieslinski for his generous use of the book store’s back room.
–Kate Chamberlin, Coordinating Editor
July 20, 2016
Wayne Writers Guild
Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month
Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY
John Cieslinski, Owner
78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502
Phone 585-474-4116
Chapter 7
Renters and Circumstances
By Mert Bartels
Working in a multi-story building to handle all maintenance problems from painting to fixing plumbing to cleaning out unoccupied apartments and suites allows me to hear a variety of conversations. Some are normal between couples while others vary from minor disputes to vicious arguments.
Other times people do not notice me in the hallways as I proceed to do daily maintenance requests from the building dwellers. Because of this, most pay minor attention to ol’ Hughey, the hotel’s maintenance man for over 30-years. Luckily, most of my work is within the hotel and not outside. I wear a shirt with the building name on it over my left breast pocket so the newcomers know I am part of the staff. Some think I hear poorly due to my age; however, that is absolutely untrue.
Why just the other day, Mrs. Olson, a 65-year old widow, called the office for a request to have the toilet fixed as the water was running steadily.
By the way, plumbing facilities were added to The Macedonia Hotel in the late thirties.
Upon arriving and knocking at the door, Mrs. Olson showed me the toilet which was malfunctioning. So as I am searching for the part that needed adjustment or replacing, Mrs. Olson commented, “Oh, how I’d like to take a bath.”
That comment startled me as she looked physically healthy for her age to take a bath any time she wanted. My next words queried her as to why she couldn’t take a bath.
Her reply, “The stopper is stuck.”
“Well,” I answered, “it is certainly fixable.”
She said, “You don’t understand the problem.” So I queried her why she thought taking a bath was not a possibility. The answer I received was surprising, well at least to me. She had been told the stopper in a bathtub was not fixable so no water would collect in the tub. She was pleased to know a stopper could be replaced in a quarter hour. So I collected some tools and supplies and within 25 minutes I had it fixed.
Several days later Mrs. Olson and my paths crossed again in a hallway. She abruptly stopped me in the hallway to say in her fancy way. “Oh, how wonderful it was to take a bath again.” Well, ol’ Hughey knows satisfaction often comes from making somebody happy.
Why people simply don’t ask for maintenance to keep their apartment in top working order when it is necessary…sometimes, this stumps ol’ Hughey. That’s my job by golly!
By the way, there isn’t much I can’t fix.
What one hears while walking through the hallways is always enlightening. A few weeks back, a young newly married couple came home from work, quickly engaged in disrobing in the living room to make a rush to engage in making whoopee, but, they forgot the vent over their apartment entrance door was open. Oh, what I heard. It brought back fond memories of long ago as a young buck myself.
This couple is Harold and Irene. I like Harold, a friendly guy who stops to talk with me for a few minutes if he has time to spare. Several days after that love making afternoon, I spied Harold taking trash bags to the outside dumpster. He is currently employed as an auto race car designer at Nashcar Works. Anyhow, I couldn’t help but chide Harold some. He caught my meaning when I dropped this line, “Is there any truth that your next super racer is to be named ‘Hot Irene’?” He smiled and turned a bright crimson.
The Macedonia Hotel employs an Assistant Maintenance man by the name of Willie or more explicitly William Truckee, a friendly helpful black man that all residents like quite well. Willie came north from Tennessee before the civil rights eruption of last century. If he is left alone one can hear him singing softly these lines:
A black man I am, I do what I can
One day I’ll be completely, totally free
Ah, the seven boys from Harlem, gee
Globe Trotters will earn my respect man
Unlike some white folks, Willie is not only polite but more honest than the longest day of the year. Nearly fifteen years back Willie found the wallet of local insurance agent Bradley T. Bishopp, who lives on the top floor. The wallet had dropped from his coat after a very long night of playing poker in the upper floor game room. Mr. Bishopp almost turned snow white when he had his wallet returned by Willie with the remaining money still there. Willie chuckled and talked a lot about the ten dollar reward Mr. Bishopp had given him for being honest as the day was long.
Another time I recall a maintenance call on water coming out of the second floor hall ceiling fixture. You know that is not a common thing seen, while being a safety concern too, and many of the residents were concerned about a fire hazard. Some of those residents were quite excited and discussed this matter with the others.
With a toolbox and flashlight in my hands I trudged up to the water emitting fixture which was near an end stairway, located about midway between two rooms above. Obviously, the water had to be from the floor above, but where. Up another flight of stairs I proceeded so I could find this disguised water source. With no water visible anywhere on that floor, my next move was to knock on apartment doors to ascertain if the leak was somewhere within.
At Mr. Peter’s apartment he let me in to verify if any water noises or flooding within condition existed. After careful examination I found no water issue, so I thanked him for allowing me in to check. He chuckled, “Good luck! By the way let me know if I need to soon buy a canoe.”
Next, I knocked on the door of the adjacent apartment. No reply. The second time I knocked much louder and waited for two minutes. Still no one appeared at the door. Holding my ear to the door I could hear nothing—no radio, no TV and no talking. Since I needed to check that apartment I took my pass key from my pocket and unlocked the door before entering. As soon as I entered the hall, the sound of running water was surprising and very easy to hear.
Three times I yelled, “Hello, anyone here!” No answer.
Advancing into the room I noticed sound asleep in a large easy chair was Mr. Andrew Samuel Johnston-stone, a bachelor who hoarded books of all sizes on a myriad of subjects. He was a professor at a nearby college and quite knowledgeable on an array of topics. Well, I bypassed him to enter the bathroom when I notice water running over the top of the sink, and that nearly an inch and a half of water on the floor there and some of the living room carpet soaked.
Mr. Johnston-Stone slowly awoke after I shook him. So I told him there was a water problem here. With a startled look on his face, he ejaculated, “Damn it! I must have fallen asleep. I planned to wash my socks in the sink, but apparently I fell asleep before shutting off the water.”
Only thing left for me to do was clean up the mess and leave a very embarrassed Mr. Johnston-stone.
One of the matters being the only maintenance man is the dreaded nightly call over a complaint not an immediate, critical emergency. There were occasions when some renters were terrified as bats flew throughout the building with ease, speed and intermittently. Oh, how I disliked those 11 or 12 midnight calls. Thus I had to get out of bed, get dressed, get in the car and get to the building. One would think flying bats would be easy to locate; however, they, the bats, were never cooperative.
With flashlight in hand while walking through the hallways, the task of finding the nuisance bat was a combination of luck and close examination of walls, especially stairways with dim overhead lighting. I never took a test or course on how to trap and remove bats.
The first time a bat nearly buzzed me I ducked. That accomplished nothing. Next time I was buzzed I clapped my hands loudly which apparently distressed the bat. I soon learned I could drive the bat down the hallway to a stairway, but then what?
Time for a coffee and make a plan. Simple plans are always the best. I asked myself what does a bat prefer—coolness and darkness. I eventually located the bat on the second floor, so I opened a window, went for another coffee and returned to see the bat was gone. By that time it was to begin my normal shift. Oh hum.
I have other bat stories but not now. There’s not a lot ol’ Hughey has missed as far as human concerns go. Bless the renters for they provide me with continuous exploits of things humanity shouldn’t do.
Author Bio”
Merton Bartels, a long time Macedon resident, believes there is so much more to tell in crisper detail than with much of today’s electonic media. An infinite amount of knowledge can be obtained by reading and much more depth on the main subject can be derived than from watching the proverbial silver screen. He likes to write to describe past experiences whether with family or summarize uncommon but intriguing historical tidbits
mbartels1@rochester.rr.com
Wayne Writers Guild
Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month
Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY
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78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502
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