New York City, New York,
December 1963
There was a despicably chilled air occupying New York City on Thursday, the 12th of December. The streets were blanketed in an inch of snow, and the sidewalks were piled high with the leftovers. In Manhattan, on Madison Avenue, the bustle of living never stopped. Traffic was backed up both directions and people were pushing passed each other on the sidewalk. Standing against the wall of a building on the southside corner of the East 49th Street intersection stood a woman. She was huddled into a telephone booth, spinning the rotary dial, her fingers frozen from the damp cold air.
"Herman." Her quiet voice mumbled into the receiver.
"Yeah?" An old croaky voice replied.
"It's Kaye… You got any work?"
"Lemme see, Kaye." The voice softened. There was a silence over the line for a moment, and a shuffling of papers. "Nothing right now, darling." Her face fell.
"But, mid January we need two weeks of work at least. Some for Carnegie Hall, and some for the Delta on 5th. If you are available, I'll give it to you."
"I'll do it." She shuffled her feet in the snow. "I'll come by the Hall in January then."
"Sounds good, dear. Keep safe. Merry Christmas."
Kaye waited, annoyed. "Merry Christmas Herman." She promptly hung up the receiver and stepped out of the telephone booth. She was met with a gust of cold air which blew some snow up her long grey coat.
"Hate winter." She huffed. Her circular tortoiseshell glasses hung low on her face and she pressed them back up her petite nose. Down East 49th on the other side of Park Avenue was a 1934 Nash Ambassador saloon, parked southeast. Its green and black paint had long faded in the sun, the interior was comfortable but of a bygone era, and the wood dash was old, cracking and in need of repair.
'Home' Kaye thought, as she opened the rear door and sat down in the empty space that once held the back seats of the car. Black drapes covered all windows lest the front doors and the windshield. There was a thin single mattress on the floor of the car, blankets, a small bookshelf Kaye had fastened out of scrap wood, and there was a book light that was hardwired to the battery attached to the wall of the car. The sound of the outside world were hushed well by the interior. Kaye sat down against the front seat and grabbed a book, "Catcher in the Rye". It was 6:30 in the morning and the sun hadn't yet peaked over the horizon but dawn was about to appear. She flicked on the small booklight and began to read.
At 7:30, Kaye's stomach began rumbling. She turned over her satchel looking for some food. It was empty as usual. She pulled a flask from her pocket and opened the cap but it was dry as well. Finally, she reached into her deep coat pockets and found 18 cents in change.
"Running low." She mumbled.
Kaye adjusted her beige tam o' shanter, hopped from the car, and marched up 49th back towards Madison. The streets were much busier now, and even more people were pushing past each other. Kaye stood for a silent moment, looking around at the sea of faces passing. There was a rush towards a skyscraper nearby. A throng of young women in their mid to late twenties pushed through the crowd. They were all chatting together and laughing, dressed smart for their age. Though Kaye was a few years their junior, she followed them at close proximity. They marched through two large glass doors and up to an elevator. The big steel doors glided open and the swarm pushed in shoulder to shoulder. Looking at the girls makeup surrounding her, she quickly reached into her clutch purse and pulled out red lipstick applying it liberally.
"What floor?" There was a silence. Kaye looked over to the brunette in a pink outfit who was gesturing to her.
"The same as you." She replied smacking her lips confidently.
"Oh…" the woman turned, "Are you new?"
"You could say that."
"Alison." She girl stuck out her gloved hand. Kaye met it and shook it lightly.
"Kaye."
"Nice to meet you, Kaye. I love your outfit. Very chic."
"Thank you." Kaye smiled very slightly and straightened her coat. "Something I threw together."
"Who's secretary are you?" A tall slender woman with blonde hair questioned.
"I'm not a secretary." Kaye replied coldly.
"Oh…" The blonde looked away but turned again. "But you said you were new."
"New to here."
"Ah." She turned back. "Welcome to Sterling Cooper."
Kaye didn't respond. The large steel doors slid open once again and the girls stepped out into a small foyer leading to a pair of large maple doors. They were being held open and Kaye went with the many employees who were making their way through into the offices. She walked down the few steps and looking around noticed the large black letters on the wall, "Sterling Cooper."
She walked through the writer's pen and turned left, searching for the bathroom as she always did. Disoriented, she slowed down, reading each colourful door, and looking more methodically. She found it further down an adjacent hall. Locking herself in a stall against the wall, she placed her coat on the hanger and looked down to an old large faced watch. 7:44. Kaye pulled a book from her satchel and began reading. A few girls came in and out of the washroom in the following hour until it died out around 8:30. Kaye placed the book back in her satchel and left. She had spotted the lunch room while passing earlier and went there promptly. It was a small room, with a fridge, two coffee pots, and a toastmaster. She placed her coat on the hanger as she walked in, revealing a tight silvery dress that went down to her knees. A gold chain adorned her neck with an ornate broach at the bottom. She adjusted her glasses quickly and opened the fridge. It contained many brown bags of food of which Kaye grasped and removed one. She sat down at the small table in the room and began eating, her stomach finally ceasing its growling. She poured herself a coffee in a white mug from the cabinet.
After eating someone's entire lunch, she downed another mug of coffee.
"Starving already?" A young man with blonde hair walked through the entrance.
"Yes, I didn't eat breakfast." Kaye smiled instinctively.
"I hardly get time either." The man replied. "Unless my wife makes it, but Cynthia always wakes up late." He reached into the fridge and grabbed an apple from a bag. "I'm Ken, by the way. I haven't seen you around here." He sat down at the table.
"I'm Kaye. Pleased to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too." Ken watched her stand and straighten her dress.
"Back to it then." She huffed.
"Never ends."
With a quick walk she made her way out of the lunchroom but left her coat to lower suspicion. She made her way around the writers pen once again and followed the line of offices until she noticed an open office at the end of the row. Without hesitating she walked into the office.
"Mister Sterling sent me to…"
The office was empty. There was a large cart against the window stocked with alcohol. Kaye walked over and grabbed a silver rimmed glass and filled it with Kentucky bourbon. She quickly drank the whole glass and then refilled it, drinking the second more slowly. She looked out the windows at the city below. Traffic was lessening on Madison and the snow was falling.
The man who owned the office had pictures on his desk. He was trim, with black hair and magnetic eyes. He had a wife, two kids it seemed. Friendly faces, probably with some sordid past, Kaye assumed. She could feel the alcohol taking its effect and leaving everything with a warmth to it despite the December weather.
"Can I help you?" The office owner walked in behind her.
"Mr. Sterling wanted a bottle of bourbon and a glass. Said you'd have some."
"Sure" He walked in, placing his coat on the hanger behind the door and placing his fedora on the top. "Take that bottle to him. Tell him he owes me one."
"I will." She smiled, trying not to let her breath out. After exiting the room with a bottle and a glass in hand, the secretary had sat down at her desk and looked up at her.
"For Mr. Sterling." She mumbled.
"Of course. I'll order Mr. Draper another one." She gave a toothy grin. Kaye turned down the row of offices and walked towards Mr. Sterling's office, whom she saw upon entering the main doors. After knocking and hearing someone yell 'come in', she entered the long stately office. The grey-haired man was on the phone, gesturing her to come closer. He moved the receiver away from his mouth.
"Can I help you?" he said quietly.
"Mr. Draper wanted you to have this." She placed the bottle of Woodford Reserve on his desk. She immediately turned and began leaving, swiveling the glass of bourbon around her body as to keep it out of his line of sight. Sterling began talking to the receiver once again. As she walked towards the double doors, she downed the rest of the glass and placed it down on a small side table at the front of the room.
"It's that kind of day, eh?"
Kaye froze in her tracks, turning swiftly to see Sterling looking at the glass and then back to her. She paused momentarily.
"Everyday is that kind of day." She smirked lightly awaiting his response. The silver fox laughed and shooed her from the room.
Once Kaye had cleared Sterling's office, she knew her welcome was overstayed. She made a line for the lunchroom to grab her coat and hat. Upon arrival she was met by a curvaceous redheaded woman, in her early thirties. She had a gold necklace with a pen hung around it. Her dress was a deep blue and it was cut just below the knee.
"Taking a break, are we?" She smiled.
"No." Kaye didn't hesitate. "I have been running around the office doing errands."
"Ah." The redhead said. "Errand girl today. I'm sorry the duty has fallen on you." She paused briefly. "I don't remember you, and I know everyone. Are you new here?"
"Yes." She paused. "I'm a temp. Sent by TWA from Brooklyn. Here for odds and ends." Kaye watched the woman intently. Her body language denoted concern, perhaps contempt.
"Well, if you are short of any work…" She tapped ashes from her cigarette into a nearby tray. "Come and see me, Ms. Harris."
"Thank you, Ms. Harris."
Once again, Kaye was forced to leave the lunchroom without her coat and find another route to come back. She went a different course from Sterling's office and picked up a file from an empty writer's desk to appear busy. The loud clacking of typewriters and shrill of telephones was overpowering. Kaye opened the file and began reading some of the headings, "Accounts Receivable, Inbox, Outbox, Account Number." She flipped further through the documents before she found rough pictures. Comics, they seemed to be. A storyboard. First a young boy in the kitchen, his mother searching for him. She finds him under the table crawling on the floor. "Jubilee Cleaner", it read.
"You!" a woman was standing outside of her office yelled towards Kaye. "I need you to take this to Don." Kaye moved slowly towards her, unsure of how to proceed. "Are you in the middle of a delivery?"
"Yes." She paused. "But I can do both. I'll take this to Mr. Draper." She waited to see if the short homely woman would correct her, but she turned and closed her office door after handing Kaye the folder.
"Alison, is he in?" Kaye questioned the secretary.
"Yes, he just hung up the phone."
Kaye breezed through the door, adjusting her large circular spectacles.
"From Ms. Olson." Her mind wandered to the colourful door behind short homely lady. She placed the folder on the desk in front of Don. He picked it up and opened it.
"Wait here." He said without looking up. After flipping through the pages. "Tell me what you think of this." He returned the folder. Inside was three or four versions of the same image, hand sketched. It was for an Alcoa Aluminium. "So easy a child could use it."
"It's good." Kaye stated, unmoved.
"I want better than good." Draper grabbed a cigarette and lit up, offering one to Kaye. She took it from his hand and put it to her lips. Don passed his gold lighter across the table. Kaye noticed the small lettering, "P.F.C Dickens." She flicked it open
"In life, we often have to do things that are just not our bag." Kaye exhaled a plume of silvery smoke. She was reading the rear casing of Don's lighter. Isn't that ironic – she thought.
"Friend of mine from the war." Don took back the lighter and replaced it in his coat.
"Make the ad about women, not children. Children don't use aluminum, nor should they be opening ketchup bottles. Parents do." Kaye took another drag, and looked out the side windows. She noticed the drinks cart below her, her eyes wandering over them.
"So easy, a woman can use it. Then show a picture of a woman being amazed by how easy it was to use Alcoa Aluminium bottle caps. The rest of the ad can be a tack about how housewives love the caps."
Don smiled. "You do this for everyone around here?"
"I do it for a living." She smoked.
"Make ads?"
"Churn garbage."
Draper laughed lightly and flicked the ashes of his cigarette. "I don't know your name."
"Kaye. Kaye Sharpe."
"Well, Ms. Sharpe. You just made my day a lot easier." He stood up and passed her back the folder. "Take these to Peggy, and repeat what you told me."
Kaye smiled, plucked the cigarette between her thin lips, and left the room. She walked down the hall to "MARGARET OLSON"'s office and though upset at first, the woman quickly slammed the door and began clacking away on her typewriter.
A feeling of relief overwhelmed Kaye as she realized she was free. She cut through the writer's pen and up the steps through to the lunch room. Her long beige coat and tam 'o shanter hat were still waiting, hanging from the black standing rack. She pulled them from the rack and began walking out towards the exit.
A glint caught her eye, from an open door. It was another open office, in a more secluded corner of the floor. Secretary away. She walked over, reading the name plate, "LANE PRYCE." The sweet smell of rum wafted into her nose. Temptation. She slid through the door and closed it tightly behind her.
There was a drinks cart with many opened bottles of alcohol. To her left was another coat rack with a black double breasted suit jacket and fedora placed on it. Kaye pulled it to the ground, placing it in front of the door, and shoving the jacket somewhat under the doorjamb.
"Finally." She whispered, dropping her coat behind the sofa. Kaye reached for a bottle and one of the silver rimmed glasses once again and filled it with rum. She held the bottle in the other hand, drank the glass, and refilled it. She looked out the window and drank the second glass slowly.
"Sometimes we have to do things that just aren't our bag." She mumbled. The feeling Kaye had been craving swept over her and she giddily smiled, laughing quietly. "I couldn't agree more, Mr. P.F.C. Dickens." She laughed, finishing the glass. She pulled a third glass of rum. Watching traffic pass by, she thought of her sister and brother in law in Connecticut. They were the last family she had seen. She wondered about them.
The door budged, and slammed into the rack, crushing the coat under the door.
"Oh, come on." The man said, attempting to enter the room. "Damn coat rack."
Kaye quickly grabbed the bottle and ducked behind the sofa, crossing her legs and beginning to drink from the bottle. Her lips and cheeks became burning red matching her strawberry hair, and her many freckles became bright. She couldn't help herself from giddily laughing. She covered her mouth to quiet down.
The man eventually pushed through the door, restoring his coat and hat to the rack, and placing it standing upright. He bah-humbugged the whole time. He sat down at his office desk for a moment, and then picked up the telephone, dialing a long number.
The man had a thick British accent, manicured, sounded of a Londoner. "Sinjin, glad I caught you, Mr. Sterling, Cooper and Draper know of the sale… A mix between the truth and a half truth, they knew about McCann but they were under the belief that PPL was being sold as well … That they were wrong, they even wanted to bid for Sterling Cooper to help ascend above our purchase price." He paused, his voice becoming more aggravated. "What news… What?... Why wasn't I told? … Well, where's my place in this?" He was now nearly shouting. Another pause. "And then what?" His voice hushed greatly. "Yes… Thank you…" The man slammed the receiver down into the chuck so violently it rang the bell.
The man, whom she could only assume was Lane Pryce, left the room in a somber mood. Kaye on the other hand was laying flat on the ground, running her hand through her hair, woolgathering and miles away. She brought the bottle of rum to her lips and took a sip, placing it back onto the ground.
"Trouble in paradise." Kaye sat up, and placed the cork top back into the rum bottle. She gripped the neck of the bottle and slid the glass onto the cart. Could turn this into a job – the cogs within her mind began turning. But, do I want a job? She sipped once again from the bottle. Walking over to the phone on the desk, she spun it around and began dialing. There was a private button on the phones face so she pressed it. The phone rang a few times.
"Hello?" A female voice rang through the phone. There was a short pause. "Hello…"
"Hello, Elena." Kaye said.
"Kaye… is that really you?"
"Yeah…" Kaye crunched her face together and sighed. "It's me. I'm in New York."
"New York? What are you doing there?"
"I'm at an advertising firm… today." Kaye sat back into Mr. Pryce's chair.
"Oh really? All that work for Carnegie Hall paid off then." The voice piqued in higher spirits.
"In a way, it did." Kaye pushed the cork back into the rum bottle. "Living the high life now."
"I'm so glad, sister. Hugh says hello. He hopes you're doing well."
"Say hello to Hugh. Say hello to everyone."
There was a silence over the phone line.
"Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?" Elena asked.
"No, I just wanted to let you know that I've made it."
"Alright Kaye." A brief pause. "You can come home whenever you like. Bygones be bygones."
"Alright. Goodbye, Elena."
"Goodbye sister." Kaye replaced the receptacle quickly. There was a knock at the door. She jumped to her feet and ran her hand through her hair to fix it straight.
"Hello?" A meek little woman walked in. She turned and saw Kaye.
"Who're you?"
"I'm picking up a bottle of rum for Mr. Sterling. He was specific."
"No worries. Take what you need." She began to walk out. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm just hot."
"Grab some water." She squeaked. "Your face is beet red."
Kaye said nothing and followed the secretary out, leaving her coat behind. If she had to be stuck in the office for further inconvenience, she should make it worthwhile.
"Where is the accounting room?" She spoke before leaving the small secretary.
"It's down this hall. Last door in that little nook hallway."
"Thank you."
Kaye took the bottle and walked swiftly down the hallway to a secluded door, it was marked "ACCOUNTING" She knocked. No answer. Beside the door was a dark room for photography. No one in sight.
She pulled a pin from her hairdo and a thin steel nail file from her bra liner, and inserted it into Accounts office door handle. The lock clicked. Kaye slipped inside unnoticed.
There was a mass of green filing cabinets, each 5-foot-tall and bordering the walls. There was also a desk with many drawers, a small lamp attached to the desk and a bucket of Parker pens. Placing the rum on one of the cabinets, she sat down at the desk and pulled open the top drawer. It contained many used chequebooks, all signed by Joan Harris, and then either by Lane Pryce, Roger Sterling, or Bertram Cooper. Kaye pulled out a piece of paper from the desk, turned the chequebook upside down, and then began copying the signatures of Joan Harris and Lane Pryce multiple times. She drew it eloquently, as if it was a picture rather than a signature. She then grabbed a blank cheque and drew the signatures quickly. Copying the style of writing as well; $150.00 was written clearly. She tore the cheque out of the book and crumpled the paper, padding her bra with the excess. She placed the cheque beneath her arm, tightly tucked into her undergarment.
Kaye stood for a long moment in thought, questioning her next move. There were many possibilities for her here. A home for a while; most offices are like this. Too busy to notice someone who looks busy themselves. She could try to leverage a job. It was advertising, something I know – she thought. Either way, there was food and warm drinks for the cold nights.
She turned slowly, looking at the rum bottle on the cabinet. She picked it up, opened one of the many filing cabinets, and slipped it behind a 3rd row drawer beneath a thick pack of files. Kaye pulled the many drawers open attempting to find a large silver key that most companies hid a duplicate of in a locked room; the front door key. The bottom draw held the item she searched for. After leaving the Accounting room, she walked across the hall and back towards Pryce's office.
"Is he in?" Kaye asked.
"Yes, just sat down."
She pushed passed the secretary without blinking and went into the office. There was a faint, wait let me buzz him, before the door closed.
"Can I help you?" The accent flowed off his tongue like jam and tea.
"My coat and hat. I left them here, when I was cleaning yesterday. They were on this rack." She motioned to Lane's coat and hat.
"That fell over today, tossed my coat and hat away." He stood up gesturing.
"Oh." Kaye paused looking behind the couch. "Here they are." She picked them up. "Sorry for the intrusion, Mr. Pryce."
"Alright…" He paused looking around curiously. "No harm done."
Kaye was out of the office as she had appeared in the office; unmemorably. Out the main doors without a question and then down to the main floor. She placed the tam o' shanter back at its tilted angle on her rusty hair, and adjusted her glasses. The warm embrace of the rum still gripped her form. She felt that floating sensation that her mind craved. Everything was at peace.
A Chase Manhattan bank was a few blocks north of Sterling Cooper and Kaye went to deposit the cheque. It cleared and she cashed the money quickly under a pseudonym Camilla Carlisle. She made her way back to the Nash Ambassador parked down East 49th Street. A plethora of blankets, a book and a long sleep is something she greatly looked forward to.