We were alone, of course. Most departments of the University had already closed for the summer. My mind was still back at the office, where Butler and Tommy Sharp and Laura and the mimeograph girl were putting together a draft of the merger agreement which I would have to approve after dinner so that the messengers could distribute it first thing in the morning.
Freddie finally settled on a bottle of Napa Valley Cabernet-Sauvignon to go with the mixed grill we had ordered. Eleven years since that first class at the Law School; had he changed? Although I didn't see as much of him now, we still occasionally went after pheasants and deer and trout in the appropriate seasons and when he was downtown on some errand he might stop by to recommend a brilliant student or trade some gossip; in June, when Caroline moves the household to Nantucket, we sometimes hold private wine-tasting parties on the terrace of Freddie's farmhouse; so I can't really tell if he has changed. Less hair, perhaps, and another few inches around the belly, the cleanshaved jowls a little fuller and a deeper pink. . . .
"Did you see about Bootsie Hyde?" he asked.
I nodded, sensing I should have brought the subject up myself. Professor Boswell Hyde, Charles Eliot Norton Professor of American History at Harvard, author (at age twenty-six) of the Pulitzer Prize winning Fremont and the Dream of Empire, OSS (Office of Strategic Services, the United States' intelligence gathering agency during World War II) operative under AllenDulles in Switzerland, Berlin correspondent for the New York Times, author (at age thirty-one) of Potsdam: Solution or Timebomb, most recently speechwriter, intellectual companion and inevitable biographer to the President of the United States -and Freddie Minto's college roommate- was on the cover of Time this week.
"Old Bootsie, who'da guessed it. Little shrimp, all eyeglasses, one time I had to swim out into the lake, some jocks had tied him into a rowboat . . ." Of course I had heard the story about the young Boswell Hyde adrift on Lake Carnegie at least twice before -once in Professor Hyde's presence at a loud Prospect Street cocktail party after a Harvard-Princeton game. I sensed that Professor Hyde had also beard the story more often than he considered absolutely necessary; later on in the crush of the party he had turned to me, sighing, "I sometimes wish that the campus police had rescued me from that predicament, rather than my roommate. Of course you understand I love him dearly-"
The mixed grill came, and the wine. "Cheers," said Freddie, raising his glass. Sipping the dark wine I thought: This is my day for sitting around in clubs and waiting for people to come to the point.
"Know what, Graham? You're looking a little pooped."
I ate my lamb chop and waited.
"Care for old Doc Minto's diagnosis?"
"I expect I'll get it whether I care for it or not."
"Such truculence! Man of your endowments and achievements-- Well, since you ask me. My diagnosis is that Graham Anders, Esquire, leader of the Bar, great white hope of the Messrs. Conyers & Dean, et cetera, et cetera, is suffering from certain. . . shall we say overdoses?" He drank some more of his wine, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and reached over to fill our glasses. "Little too much of everything. Little too much Ellsworth Boyle -"
"No, that's not fair," I interrupted. "He has to cope with an awful lot of problems. and he really tries to understand--"
"All right, all right." Freddie raised his hand. "Let's just say a little too much C&D. And a little too much Boatwrights, morning, noon and night. Hmm? And that dark cloud on the horizon, no bigger than a man's hand. Mr. Fleischer, is that his name?"
"We just licked him in a proxy fight."
"Yes indeedy, the banks held fast again. Apparently nobody has threatened surcharge yet, and maybe Mr. Fleischer will just go away..
"We've got some other ideas--"
"And a little too much stock market--"
"--a little too much booze -"
I drank some wine and looked at him.
"--and, if you'll forgive me, dear boy, a little too much nooky." He regarded me with twinkling eyes. "My right?"
"Up yours, Freddie. Did you really bring me out here to read me a lecture? Because I've already just had it, from Boyle as a matter of fact, and I'm working under the gun tonight--"
"Okay, okay." Freddie made the gesture with his hand again. "I know I deserved that, but I can't help teasing you a little. Pure envy. You mustn't begrudge me my voyeur's amusement. just look at me: fat as a pig and up to my ass in blue books while Bootsie Hyde mocks me from every newsstand. No, I didn't call you to give you a lecture, but I do believe you look a little frayed around the edges and I know the reasons for it and what I think you need is a change of air and a vacation."
I said I would probably join Caroline and the children in Nantucket in August. . . .
Freddie shook his head. "Got a much better idea. Want some dessert? Brandy? Okay, Anna, we'll just have some coffee, please, Mr. Anders wants to go back to his shop." The waitress went away and Freddie settled back. "How'd you like to go over to Salzburg for a month with me? You know the place, don't you? Mountains and baroque churches and palaces, the fortress on the hill--"
"Yes, I know the place. " I should have asked for brandy after all, but it was too late now.
". . . birthplace of Mozart, don't have to sell you on that part of it anyway," Freddie was saying. "Look, here's the point: remember Logan Brockaw? Wasn't he in your class? Well, he went with Devereaux's office in New York, I got him the job, he did pretty well but then he just up and quit, came into some money or something, and now he's got a job with some outfit called the American Academy in Europe. It was set up right after the war by some students, American students, as a place where European students could come to learn about this country, read American books and take lessons from American professors because under the Nazis and then during the war there wasn't much contact. Matter of fact, Bootsie Hyde was in on it right from the beginning, he's still a trustee and visits all the time, he's told me about it before . . . Well anyway, the thing really caught on, they've raised quite a bit of money in this country, foundations and individual donors, and it's become sort of a permanent institution. Every month they collect a different faculty and a different bunch of students -maybe in City Planning or in Labor Relations or in journalism or whatever. Now this summer they're going to have one for lawyers, American Legal Institutions or some fancy name like that. They've invited law students and judges and practicing lawyers from all over Europe, and an American faculty. I guess Logan Brockaw suggested my name, and they've asked Lamason from Harvard and justice Steinberg from Wilmington, and they're trying to get Clint Bergstrasser, the trust buster. And then they're trying to get one or two American lawyers as students, young practicing lawyers. I'm not sure why; just for seasoning, I guess. Not to teach, just to mingle with the students and explain how we practice law over here and maybe ask hard questions in class. So anyhow they picked some young fellow in Shoemaker's office, editor-in-chief of the Law Review a couple of years ago, but now at the last minute Shoemaker says he needs him for a proxy fight or something, the old bastard won't let this kid go, so Professor Minto with his vast acquaintance at the Philadelphia Bar is asked to produce on a moment's notice an intelligent outgoing well-spoken interesting suave lawyer who can take a month off on two weeks' notice. Know anybody like that?" He was so pleased with himself that he almost exploded.
The waitress poured the coffee. I busied myself with the cream and sugar, furiously noticing that my hand was shaking.
"What about it, hotshot? Can you work it out with Caroline? And with Boyle?" Freddie suddenly leaned forward. "Jesus Minnie, Graham, just think! Most beautiful town in Europe. And the festival will be on: Mozart every night. Karajan, Elizabeth Schwarzkopf, Vienna State Opera, the works. Do you know about Austrian cooking? It's different from the French, a lot of veal and things with flour, but very good, their red wine is no good but the white is excellent, and of course they have these coffeehouses where you eat Linzer Torte and Dobosch Torte and things like that. . . . We could fly to London first, see a few shows, get measured for a suit, then to Munich, pick up a car, drive down on the Autobahn. . . . They have this Academy in an old palace, an old rococo palace on the edge of a lake, there's a mountain on the other side, I'll show you a picture, it belongs to--"
"I know who it belongs to, Freddie."
I forced myself to raise the cup and drink some coffee. This time my hand
didn't shake. "I was there when it all began."
1961 - A Point of View
 The annual meeting of the stockholders of the Boatwright Corporation
 What are you going to do about Boatwright and what are you going to do about yourself?
 Have we learned anything this evening, Doctor?
 Producing results?
 Alexander's Feast
> How'd you like to go over to Salzburg for a month with me?
1947 - An Island
 You're not going to Berlin. You're staying here.
 All right, we're the Military Government.
 The Americans are teaching us to be democratic instead of fascistic.
 Well, this is Fasching.
 Letters after Ash Wednesday
 Say Boris is at Schloss Fyrmian.
 THE AMERICAN ACADEMY IN EUROPE - Prospectus for the First Session
 Learn to think of people as individuals.
 Parlez-moi d'amour, redites-moi des choses tendres.
 Not one thing left to show that you've ever been on earth? - "Sources of Soviet Conduct"
 A Countess, a Prussian Officer and a Ländler
 Now this part of your life is over and I'm sending you home.
 A father who's too busy to watch his son die. - The Spring of 1961
 I cannot sell Schloss Fyrmian to the Academy.
1961 - A Change of Air
 The first thing I saw was the Festung Hohensalzburg far in the distance, silhouetted against the shadowy curtain of the high mountains.
 Next day at the Academy we got to work - Graham, you know what Fleischer did?
 Im weißen Rößl am Wolfgangsee
 Brockaw writing a thesis on Austrian baroque architecture? - Boatwright Corporation and Boris Fleischer, plaintiffs
 You know there a Mr. Devereaux? Mr. Armistead Devereaux?
 I think always of Peter Devereaux.
 It sounds like an act of desperation, and it won't hold up in court.
 In those Oklahoma Hills WHERE AH WAS BOW-AHHHN!
 ... that we should meet again like this . . . I think perhaps there is a reason.
 "Is there here an American by name of Brockaw?"
 This is Boris Fleischer!
 "Does Hans work for Gehlen?" Paola shook her head. "More the other way around."
 Won't you please come home? Everybody needs you, I most of all.
 With this Waffenstillstand you have time now.
 You're going to regret this for the rest of your life!
 We Europeans would not do it. None of us. - People think you need medical attention.
 Will they trust you?
 Some things about the U.S.A. are perhaps rather important, and to us impressive.
 You're going to need a good lawyer.