CHAPTER 3
A First Breath of New York
Robert and Lord Grantham flew to New York the next Monday. From the JFK Airport they went straight to The Plaza. Mr. Lang's personal driver conducted them accompanied by his personal secretary.
Robert was quite jetlagged so he was thankful the meeting was tomorrow. Unfortunately, they are to meet with Mr. Levinson first in his office. Robert felt a bit of discomfort building in the pit of his stomach every time he thinks about pitching or negotiating with Mr. Levinson. He might have the fine manners of the English nobility, educated in the finest private schools in England, and grew up in the company of his country's elites, being one himself, but he had not met an American magnate all his life. He could not imagine how majority of the wealthy Americans do business. Judging from a few of his American acquaintances in Oxford, Americans are candid but easy to get along with. They don't fuss over a lot of things for most of the time; couldn't even care about the Jacobethan castle where Robert grew up in. But then again, his schoolmates were middle class Americans, children of iconoclastic American intellectuals who attended English universities to further their knowledge not their social standing.
By 3:00 in the afternoon, Robert ventured out of his hotel to Central Park just a short walk away. Late August is still technically summer but he could sniff autumn in the air. The edges of the leaves are starting to get chlorotic. In no time, they'll be turning into orange and then red.
Central Park is as alive as the whole city. He could spot many joggers running the paths and trails. Some were doing brisk walks with their dogs. Others were simply sitting on the benches. His attention was momentarily caught by a scene to his right because the photographer was busy barking instructions to a pair of bride-and-groom-to-be who he gathered were having their pre-nuptial photos taken. They looked like Asians. The young woman appeared to be quite shy and the young man looked a bit uncomfortable.
Marriage. He somehow knew that he would end up marrying in the future. For one, there's the estate and it needs heirs. But he never really thought of that. When the time comes, he hopes that Eloise would do, especially for his Mama, although they're not officially a couple yet. Robert is sure she would do well. But for now, he has a far heavier fish to fry tomorrow and Mr. Lang is meeting them for dinner tonight at 7:00.
The three men were doing in-dining at the Plaza. Robert and Lord Grantham wore their dinner jacket. Mr. Lang also came in black formal coat. They had Lobster bisque and the Crawleys were enjoying their prime filet mignon well done and piña-colada trifle for some tropical taste to wash away the dinner from their palate.
They were talking about their prospective investors, then business in general, and Wall Street in particular. When the desserts were served, Robert directed the conversation back to their business tomorrow.
"So, Mr. Lang, if I were to ask, what is he like? Mr. Levinson, I mean?" Lord Grantham glanced swiftly at Robert, he thought the subject matter was finished.
Mr. Lang looked squarely at him and in a steady voice described Mr. Levinson. "He is rather a man of quiet competence. Highly competent, I would say. He is the epitome of your American dream or of stuff that makes the American dream come true. Decent, ready to get his hands dirty with good work, commendable work ethics, nerves of steel, resilient, highly intelligent, shrewd, and could see through every person."
Robert looked down on his trifle. That does not sound comforting at all; got him all the more nervous.
Mr. Lang, a highly seasoned business man himself, caught Robert's apprehension. He was young when he started out at Goldman Sachs in the '50s. Robert, certainly, is no match to the wolfish young Americans in Wall Street who slaved their lives to the dictates of the market. But there is something noble about the young man which, when steered the right way, is just the quality you need for building an honest enterprise.
To reassure him, Mr. Lang bent closer to Robert seated to his left side and in a slight whisper said to him, "Mr. Levinson is fatherly, you'll see" and gave him a meaningful wink.
They climbed to the 25th floor of the Gray Bar, an art deco building in Lexington Avenue, where the Levinson Companies occupy the whole floor space. The party of three arrived 15 minutes earlier so they were ushered from the reception area to the receiving room.
The Levinson company is one of the steadily growing big textile companies worldwide. It has a number of businesses under it such as clothing lines for casual and sports, chain of department stores in 10 countries, home goods stores, and the original textile business that continues to produce quality materials for high-end fashion brands. But Mr. Levinson is looking to expand his business interest especially because his young son who is proving to have a good business sense is interested in real estate. A number of market brokers offered him deals in Brooklyn, among others, but he was wary partnering with the people on the list.
Mr. Lang had met Mr. Levinson a couple of times. They moved in the same circle and one day they were talking about Crawley Land which got Mr. Levinson interested. Of course, he was forthrightly about the business—it's a good one, with much potential, but needs a bit of steering into the cutthroat business world of the late 20th Century.
The Levinson office space is a contrast from the Crawley's in London. It has a modernist-minimalist style lacking the heavy ornate oak and cedar tables that occupied big spaces in the latter. It utilized the glass wall panels to create a long lobby that faced down Lexington and the traffic below. All the office rooms are on the other side divided by white painted panels that function as gallery wall where minimalist but modern artworks hung. Robert could identify a cubist piece and a dada art like Dali's as they were passing by. But they were mounted on white mattings with thin silver frames that even the very colorful dada art piece looked minimalist, non-overpowering, and so much attuned to the modern interior.
The interior decorator certainly has a good eye for both art and space, Robert observed.
At exactly 10:00 in the morning, the door to the receiving room opened and a tall, lean man in late '50s strode dressed immaculately in blue pin-striped coat and trousers, behind him was a 30-something woman dressed in business suit carrying a memo pad and two other middle-aged men—the other one looked Hispanic while the other was Caucasian. Mr. Lang instantly stood up followed by Lord Grantham. Robert also followed suit though he felt like he was caught unprepared no matter how he mentally rehearsed this scene last night.
Mr. Levinson, unceremoniously, extended his right hand immediately to Lord Grantham thus Mr. Lang strived to caught up with the introduction. Then, Robert was introduced and for a fleeting second the older man's gaze turned on him though ever so briefly. But his handshake, warm, steady, and even, was telling Robert the older man was a no-nonsense man with nary a bone of insecurity in his body. He was the architect of his family's enormous fortune.
Mr. Lang, to Robert's relief, briefed Mr. Levinson on the Crawley's business and real estate interests. He did the difficult work for Robert and his father setting a business-like but easy tone inviting Lord Grantham to talk about his company's vision, current projects, future plans and ventures—the whole business portfolio. Robert asked his team to prepare a good visual presentation which John, Charles, and Joseph, with the aid of Elsie and that young brilliant new recruit Gwen Harding that Charles was talking about spent a good three days crafting.
Mr. Levinson sat quietly but relaxed appreciating all the points, probably taking some mental notes. Meanwhile, Robert's heart was beating wildly which really irritated him because he was mostly relaxed in taking control of various business meetings in the past. But he was not himself in Mr. Levinson's presence. Then, the American started to ask questions. Every now and then he would invite his two other companions to join in the discussion. The Hispanic one, which Robert guessed might have been Mr. Levinson's right hand, was also quite good. He was able to see aspects in the business that you would normally consider peripheral but are really crucial. It slightly felt like they were in the interrogation room. Not that his father and Mr. Lang were not able to handle those questions well.
So, after Robert's presentation and the round of questions that were mostly addressed to Lord Grantham and Mr. Lang, not to him, Robert sat down.
Mr. Levinson sat back on his chair and muttered a low "Thank you, impressive." But before Robert could chew on it, the older man turned to Lord Grantham and said, "Now, what do you need to know about us? What do you require from your investors or partners?" He sounded authoritative more than ever.
They had to pose a few inquiries about the Levinson company and the extent of partnership that both organizations expected from each other.
After a while, Mr. Levinson stood up and whispered something to another employee just waiting from behind the door and a duo of uniformed men came in bearing trays of coffee, tea, and fresh juice.
"I knew you Englishmen enjoy your tea so much." He said it without irony. "But we're not quite sure about the time of day. So," he motioned to the different drinks on the side table, "take your pick."
Robert had an orange juice which tasted quite differently from the ones that he usually had back home. Probably it's the climate and the soil or what the French would call "le terroir" when talking about their vineyards producing wines with distinctive tastes.
Robert started to relax. He understood that Mr. Levinson wanted a less constrained discussion. But he would never have expected, in his entire life, that while they're sipping coffee or fruit juices or tea, Mr. Levinson would turn the spotlight on him. The old man glanced at him as he quietly sipped his drink—honestly, he instantly felt stupid for picking up an orange juice, a most juvenile choice for a drink. "Honestly, Robert", he muttered his inner dialogue.
"Do you have other business ventures aside from real estate?" This area was not the territory of Mr. Lang and his father's. Mr. Levinson was also looking at him expectantly, never breaking eyes. So, Robert stammered his small pet project which may not sound impressive to Mr. Levinson: his agrifarm in Yorkshire which is a side project that he hatched out with Charles Carson and invited Mr. Mason to manage. Robert was passionate about this project and when he came into the part where he was explaining his vision of turning their land into a productive agricultural business while employing people and giving back to the environment his eyes shone. He forgot that he was sitting in the middle of concrete and steel jungles in Metropolitan New York; he was transported back into rural Yorkshire with its gently rolling hills where sheeps were grazing.
Then he stopped. Scared that he might have overdone it, putting off the American businessman with astute business skills. When he recovered, he found two pairs of perfectly deep-seated eyes framed by well-shaped thick eyebrows staring intently at him unshielded by the thick eyeglasses that are now lying casually on the table. The older American did not say anything, just stared at Robert. After a couple of seconds, uncomfortable for Robert, of course, Mr. Levinson turned to Mr. Grantham and said, "There is so much promise in agribusiness. Food security is important."
And then, they're back to the business. The Levinson company needed time to fully study their prospects. They needed the legal department to look into the possibilities of foreign investing vis-à-vis UK laws and American regulations on overseas financing. They shook hands again before the meeting was dismissed and they were ushered out of the office. Mr. Levinson and his right hand accompanied them to the lift while his personal assistant and someone else escorted them to the car park.
Inside the car, Lord Grantham asked Mr. Lang the probability of getting Mr. Levinson's approval.
"I could say that we did well there though we just could not tell. Mr. Levinson has an army of brilliant lawyers who studied international business too."
But for Robert, seated behind the driver, whether Mr. Levinson proceeds to forge a partnership with his father or not, he was certain that meeting would stick on him for years and years to come.