Chapter Fifteen
Peggy was enjoying going to Mass more, though she wouldn't make it every Sunday, now that Sal Romano was attending Father Gill's sermons. He was so funny! Outside, the parishioners were enjoying the spring air before trooping downstairs for coffee and donuts.
"It was a nice sermon, Father Gill, but you focus way too much on Vietnam, really you need to—"
Peggy rudely interrupted her mother, who was standing between Sal and Father Gill. "It was a dynamic sermon, Father, and I feel like Sterling Cooper seems to be trotting over here, a growing number of people. Billy was here last week, your assistant, Sal, though he didn't take Communion."
Father Gill smiled. "I actually invited Billy to come this Sunday as well, but he said that one of the partners at the firm has taken a shine to him, and is going to teach him about bodybuilding, or something."
"That's so nice" Mrs. Olson said. "At the YMCA?"
"No, at the Waldorf, actually" Sal muttered, and Peggy saw Father Gill kick him. Really, Sal could be a caution!
"Father—"Jerry, Peggy's brother-in-law interrupted, "Do you really think it's all right to eat roast beef on Fridays now? Just seems too good to be true. I love the no Latin part-"
Jerry pronounced "part" "paaht" Peggy hated these people sometimes.
"Oh, I miss the Latin" Sal said smoothly. "I was an altar boy, and I loved it. Almost joined the priesthood for it. But it is nice not having to chow down on fish sticks, right?"
Father Gill went into an explanation about Vatican II and Peggy wandered off.
Peggy had a lot to think about. She was having a fling, she guessed…with Don Draper.
Chapter Sixteen
Astonishing, just astonishing. Pete Campbell sat in the pool at the Everard Baths and looked around, and yes, it was astonishing. There was Thurman Bigelow of Proctor & Gamble! Pete had just seen Thurm and his wife at the Stork Club. And speaking of restaurants…there was Jean-Pierre, the maitre'd of El Morocco! Good God, Jean-Pierre has a big one.
Thurman Bigelow's gut was huge, Pete thought, meditatively. Look at him with the Oriental boy. Pete had to admit, he cut a better form than at least half the men here, though he wouldn't mind getting to know Thurm's little Filipino himself.
Was Thurm ducking under the water to…How can you hold your breath and do THAT? Pete had had quite a record for underwater swimming back at Kamp Wahee-Kokii…perhaps he and Billy should try that! Quite an adventure it would be.
Where WAS Billy? Pete didn't know what had gotten over the boy lately. At first Pete had been telling Billy that they couldn't continue this, that he was mentally healthy, and this wrestling about in the lav was, kid stuff.
Sure, Pete had done it in and out of public toilets for years, once when he and Trudy and the Cosgroves had gone to a public park in Oyster Bay, Pete had met a nice young man in the uh, facilities. Wonder how he was doing now, what was his name? Diego? What a moustache!
And Pete had had quite a time in the bathrooms, both in boarding school and at Dartmouth. There was one in Ryerson Hall that was positively Babylonic. If you didn't understand about Sodom and Gomorrah in Sunday School, get a load of Ryerson's john!
You could turn into a pillar of salt looking behind you as you left, that bathroom. Pete had notified the police right before he'd graduated. It's not good to let that sort of thing go on, and especially at a good school like Dartmouth!
But now it seemed that Billy was also starting to pull away, he was too busy to duck into Cooper's private bathroom after work…and recently he'd told Pete, "Mr. Campbell, I think you should meet more people like us…make other friends."
US? What the hell did that mean? Peter Dyckman Campbell was not a damn fairy. Not by a long shot. Phases during a strained marriage (the baby cried all night, it seemed) created peculiarities in some, and this was just a phase.
Good God, was that Jimmy Barrett? He'd been our man for the Utz potato chip commercials, back at the original Sterling Cooper…and now he had a TV program, his own show, and here he is, brazenly in this den of iniquity…
Barrett was married, had things to hide, and so did Pete…and where was Pete? Here! In Sodom!
It almost seemed as if Billy had dragged Pete to this—depraved but certainly interesting bathhouse so Pete could meet another chap for assignations. And that was the last thing Pete wanted, though there seemed to be quite a few bodybuilders here, really.
There was a splash. "Campbell! Good to see you here! Interested in the hygiene?"
Pete looked up, startled. Ned Pomeroy! Chubby Ned, here at the Everard!
"I'm just here for the Turkish Bath treatment, Pomeroy" Pete said stuffily. He tried to avoid gazing at Pomeroy's lawn of red chest hair. Some people really should keep their shirts on!
Once, Pete's mother had told him that there were more reasons than morality for the old two-piece bathing suits of the Twenties. Yes, Ned could really use a big, striped two piece to cover him up.
"Oh, me too. Just here for the hygiene, great joke. Loved the boy you came in with, by the way."
"How's um, Mary Grace?" Pete asked, noting uncomfortably that Ned's dong was rising in the pool water. Maybe he wasn't a homosexual after all, this was revolting.
"She's with the kids at her mother's. We're trying to figure out whether to nickname Edward Pomeroy Five Eddie or Ted. I'm Ned, and Dad was Trey. Perhaps Skip."
Oh my God, there's a Negro. And he was making for their side of the pool.
"Got to go, Campbell, my ride's here!" Pete watched in horror as Ned Pomeroy, a deacon at St. Mary's Episcopal, climbed out of the pool and embraced the large Negro, pushing his tongue into the boy's mouth for what they called "tonsil hockey" back at Deerfield mixers.
Damn it, where was Billy?
Chapter Seventeen
"You know" Peggy Olson said, as she and Don Draper lounged on his office couch, "Years ago, when I first got Freddy Rumsen's office, and was promoted to senior copywriter, Pete asked me how I got my own office, and I joked that I was sleeping with you."
Don smiled. Peggy was amazing. She'd gone from his timorous secretary to a full copywriter with her own team, and if Roger and Bert weren't such fossils, she'd probably have made partner by now. It was so different than the way Don had gotten Roger to hire him—through lies and getting Roger drunk.
"And now you really are, and I can't believe it!" Don looked searchingly at Peggy. She hadn't made any demands of him yet…why couldn't he stay faithful to Megan? Why couldn't he have stayed faithful to Betty, for that matter…
But there were no demands, so far. But sometimes men go crazy too. Roger, after all had begun his affair with Jane, who'd made no demands, and yet, he'd divorced Mona and begged Jane to marry him at near ruinous result to the firm.
"Well, I put my hand on yours the first day I worked here as a secretary, remember? But I guess I wanted something…but now I have everything I could want materially, and I want you, too!" Peggy beamed at Don.
"Don't say that, Peggy." Don admonished her. "You don't have everything you want, materially, and if you do, you're a fool. If you're not a partner by—1970? I'll eat my hat." Hey, Cooper could be dead by then.
Peggy and Don knew so much about each other. He'd gone to see her after her breakdown, and advised her to forget it ever happened, and she'd returned the favor, bailing him out of jail when he'd gotten in the drunk driving accident with that hag, Bobbi Barrett.
Every time Don saw "Grin and Barrett" on the television, Tuesday nights, he became a bit ill. Felt good punching Jimmy in the face…if it wasn't for Jimmy's mouth, Don might still be married to Betty, really.
"Don, what are you thinking?" Peggy asked dreamily.
When a woman asked you that—always trouble.
Something had happened between Don and Peggy, though they had so far, only made love five times, always in this office. Peggy had mentioned going to her apartment, or possibly a hotel, but Don always demurred. There was something about just being here, as if it wasn't really happening.
But with those big blue eyes staring at him, Don knew that he would probably have to shit or get off the pot, so to speak, pretty soon…
"It's funny, I told you about the baby, and my mother thought, when you came to see me at St. Mary's, that you were the father—that we were a couple, but you were married."
Oh God, that female nattering. "Peggy, I told you in the hospital to forget all that. We're here, now, and we're having—fun." Well, passion, anyway.
"Well Don" Peggy said brightly, as he laid his hand on her breast. "If you don't want to discuss the past, how about talking about the future?"
Don Draper needed a drink. Fast.
Chapter Eighteen
Duck Phillips's father had raised him to be hard. "Unless it's broken or bleeding, don't come whining to me." "Children should be seen and not heard." "Let him cry, we need the rain." Duck had used similar maxims with his own kids, and he knew they hated him for it, now…but they'd appreciate it one day.
Duck's Dad had died at 67, after 42 years in advertising, and sometimes Duck didn't know if he'd ever really had a connection with his Dad, but wasn't that all psychology claptrap? He thought of this, because it troubled him that Willa babied her boy, Billy.
Duck felt as if he were in love for the first time. What a woman! And she was considering putting the firm together; they were still in intense negotiations. But it alarmed him that she and Billy were "friends"…you couldn't do that with a boy, go shopping with him, discuss music and literature…there should be distance.
At the other end of Willa's parlor, the two of them were having some silly argument about Mr. Darcy of the book "Pride and Prejudice". Maybe Duck should take the boy out shooting. But Billy thought he was a wit. He'd asked if they'd be sitting in a "duck blind".
The bell rang. "Now, Miss Ignoramus," Billy said, chucking his mother under the chin, playfully, "Think about my wise words whilst I answer the door."
Willa swatted Billy's behind with a rolled up "New York Post" as he skipped to the entrance. "Pete Campbell! What are you doing here?"
And then, Campbell's desultory voice "I was just in the neighborhood, Billy."
In Brooklyn? Duck's eyes wandered. Campbell was wandering through Brooklyn?
Duck leaned forward in his chair, forgetting his gimlet. Jesus, look at Campbell, he's pouting…the lower lip trembling, like Mark, Duck's son could get when he didn't get his way as a five year old.
"I-I wanted to see you, Billy." Campbell was saying to Willa's boy. "You don't answer my calls, and I've been—I've missed our weightlifting lessons." He smiled at Willa. "I'm Peter Campbell, and I'm a mentor of Billy's at work."
Willa gave Pete an amused grin. "You seem a little skinny to be teaching bodybuilding, or is it the other way around?" She tickled her son, and he snickered.
"Well, I am a regular member of the YMCA, you understand." Pete said a bit stiffly. Suddenly, Pete noticed Duck.
"Hello, Campbell" Duck said, rising, trying to look like he owned the place. "I am a friend of William's mother, Willa here." He smiled genially.
It had been such a shame that Campbell and Duck had stopped working together. When Duck had orchestrated the takeover of the original Sterling Cooper by Putnam Powell, he'd hoped to be President and to have Campbell take over as Accounts Manager…shame it didn't work out.
"It's good to see you, Duck." Campbell came and gave Duck a warm handshake. "We miss your expertise at the firm sometimes." Damn it, Campbell always knew the right thing to say. Duck preened.
"Morning, Dad! Willa—Billy!" Mark, Duck's son came down the hall. Duck was glad the boy had made a friend in Billy. Mark had been dismissed in his freshman year at Princeton—some crazy accusation by a fellow member on his track team.
Mark and his stepfather didn't get along, and Duck's place was a bit small, but after Duck had introduced Mark to his girlfriend and her son, Mark and Billy had hit it off like a house afire! And Billy was letting Mark stay in his room, been almost a month now.
Look at the boys—using wrestling holds, a half Nelson, right there in the living room. "Settle down, fellas." Duck said, smiling. Mark at least would be a good influence on Billy…manliness.
"You're such a sleepyhead, Mark" Billy grinned as he ruffled Mark's hair.
"Well, someone kept me up all night!" Mark giggled wildly.
Strangely, Pete Campbell seemed annoyed. He was always in a snit at the firm over something.
"So that's the way it is, is it, Billy?" Campbell gritted his teeth. Duck wondered if Campbell was losing it over at Draper's regime.
"I'm—I'm sorry, Pete. But yeah, I'm um, doing calisthenics with Mark now."
As Campbell slammed out of the apartment, Duck was glad he hadn't asked Pete to be Accounts Manager at the new firm he, Willa and Fay Miller were setting up. The boy was clearly unstable…
Chapter Nineteen
"So we're going to encourage people to buy on credit?" Continually, it seemed, Bert Cooper was horrified. If it wasn't one thing, it was the next. "I remember when Bank Americard came out in '58, that was bad enough…but now another one Super Charge? And it'll be available to all classes, it seems."
"But it started in California." Pete Campbell said earnestly. "Very progressive there, and you know, if they want to advertise, the Super Charge folks, they'll get it, here or someplace else."
"Mr. Campbell, I have been in advertising since you were a gene in your grandmother's eye…I am well aware of the implications of refusing Super Charge's business." Young pups, Cooper thought. Sassy, worse than Peanut was in his first year at the firm, this boy Campbell.
Speaking of Peanut, Cooper wondered where Roger was right now. He never seemed to be in his office anymore, and spent much too much time in peculiar conversations with the elevator operator.
But could he lecture Roger? No, and of course the rest of the staff seemed very unreliable, Cooper considered.
One of the secretaries was reading a piece of filth entitled "Sex and the Single Girl" and had the temerity to look annoyed when Cooper tore it in half. Think of her mother! The firm was shattering, slowly, it seemed.
"My folks have had a Diner's Club card for years." Ted Crane said, apparently trying to be helpful. Cooper was nauseous over this.
The Diner's Club required you pay the full balance each month, but it was much looser with these new cards, you didn't have a fixed list of restaurants, you could just buy anything, anywhere and pay back at your leisure. Disgusting!
Cooper looked miserably at Don. Draper would know what to do. And of course, the money issue was a big one.
"I think we have some good ideas for the Super Charge…bus ads, billboards, and television." Don spoke slowly, but Bert Cooper respected Don's judgment on just about everything.
Romano, the sodomite and his boy assistant set up an easel with a poster, showing a woman in a fur with a tiny card in her red nails, telling a joyous store clerk to "Charge It!" Bert Cooper rubbed his eyes. Women would go mad.
"The encouragement of wealth could be a good commercial, maybe on TV between the Red Skelton Hour and the Beverly Hillbillies. I understand that is a program that is about the nouveau riche." Campbell said enthusiastically.
"How did they come up with Super Charge?" young, blond Ken Cosgrove asked, cocking his head.
"It's a working title. It may be excessive, implying you should buy on credit at super-speed like Superman, but we want people to feel like they're…masters of their own destinies." Pete Campbell said, somewhat excitedly.
Suddenly, Billy, Romano's assistant grinned. "Just being silly, but you could call it Master Charge!"
Everyone in the meeting looked at him.
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
Sally Draper looked at Billy and giggled again. "It's…it feels like my throat is filled with air from a heating vent." But gamely, she pulled at the the funny cigarette.
Billy looked down over the edge of the roof. He thought he saw Mr. Sterling's white head way down there. "Well, you asked me for some. Don't say you didn't ask."
Sally laughed. "I've not seen you in a long time, though, Billy. I was just a little kid, the last time I visited Daddy here, when you gave me the candy bar. It was before, you know—he married Megan." Sally took a long drag on the joint, and passed it back to Billy.
As the acrid smoke filled Billy's lungs, he thought about this. A lot had happened, Mr. Draper had married Megan, his secretary, and she tried being a copy writer, and left, and was acting on a soap opera now.
Some people get the luck. Not so much others, though. Sal Romano had been let go from the firm again, and Billy, not quite eighteen, was doing a lot of Sal's art work. Also, Lane Pryce had offed himself. That was too bad.
"I think I feel it!" Sally said, and Billy looked at her, laughing in spite of himself. He didn't have the heart to tell her that most people didn't get the reefer buzz the first time. Billy looked at Sally very seriously. Was she really his half sister?
Mom had told Billy that she had known Mr. Draper a long time ago, sure, and that Billy was the fruit (get it?) of her um, thing with him back on some farm in Oklahoma or somewhere.
Mom had considered starting a competing ad agency with Duck Phillips, an old nemesis of Mr. Draper's, but this had fizzled after she discovered that Duck was a juicer, big time. So Billy was still working here at Sterling Draper, and keeping his head low and looking casually at Don Draper, to figure out…was this really Dad?
"You can tell him if you want" Mom had said to Billy. "I have never seen anyone more self-interested than Dick Whitman. He'll probably fire you, Billy. Give you a bunch of money to go away. Who cares? We have money enough, right?"
And so Billy was keeping mum for just a little bit.
"My mother has lost her mind." Sally said confidentially to Billy as she almost dropped the reefer over the building. Maybe she was stoned after all, Billy thought.
"How you mean?" Billy asked, taking the joint and consuming what was left of it in a big lunge.
"She's gotten real fat, and she dyed her hair black. Her husband thinks she looks like Elizabeth Taylor, but she really looks like Betty Rubble."
Billy almost fell over the ledge laughing. The "Flintstones" was a trip. It was too bad that the company didn't do cigarette ads, because the new commercials with Fred and Barney smoking Winstons were just hilarious.
Billy had been up on the roof with Ted Crane, the dude with the glasses, and Crane was much harder to smoke with than Sally—he was always going on about how intense his experience was, and offering up "insights". It seemed to Billy that since everyone had taken up smoking tea, all the college people, you couldn't just sit there anymore.
They just couldn't shut up. All about planets, and intuition, and who listens to all that?
Billy had been up here with Peggy Olson once, before she'd left the firm, and when she was in the experience, she looked really sad. It wasn't supposed to be that way with reefer. It was just for fun. Why did smart people get all upset?
Sally leaned close to Billy, and it looked like, even for a first-timer, she had it. Yes sir she did. Billy had started smoking reefers with Mom's Negro musician friends when he was even younger than Sally was now, and he was a pretty good expert.
"Did I tell you what happened to me when I went to see Daddy get his award from the cancer society?"
Oh, those bleary eyes. Billy hoped he wouldn't get in trouble. But he shook his head.
"I-we were with Megan's parents, French type people, but from Canada, and Megan's mom, who is real old, like fifty, went into a clubroom with Roger Sterling, and I looked in there by mistake, I was trying to find the bathroom—and she had his thing in her mouth."
Sally paused sleepily. "I mean it, she was on her knees and he was sitting in a chair with his pants down, and she had her mouth on his nasty."
Billy paused carefully. "Well, y'know, people have fun in private ways. It doesn't hurt anything if no one sees." Of course she saw, so it did kind of hurt.
"I-but it was gross. Would you let a woman put your thing in her mouth, it might bite." Sally looked earnestly at Billy, and he marveled at how red her eyes were right now.
A woman? "No." Billy answered quite honestly. Billy thought of Pete Campbell, who had ended their restroom trysts after having a meeting with his pastor, or something. Billy had wanted to stop it anyway with Pete; thank goodness for pastors.
Pete loved having Billy's thing in his mouth, though. Right now Billy had a friend, a new guy he met in the park, who was home from Viet Nam on leave…looked a little bit like Pete Campbell. But he was a hell of a lot more decent.
"Do you think my father let's women put his thing in their mouths?" Sally asked, looking carefully at Billy.
"You know, it's prolly time to go back downstairs. I got work to do." Billy tried, and failed, to smile.
