Bryce & Damon IV
Chapter 3, Apartment Hunting
First thing Monday morning, of course, Bryce sought out the Breckinridge Fitness Center on campus for a workout. He told Damon the night before he felt he was getting flabby and lethargic, it had been so long since he had worked out. Damon replied that he did not look flabby to him at all. Still, first thing Monday morning Bryce trod the familiar path to the gym. He found that his student ID from last spring was good until registration on Wednesday, August 18, over two weeks away, so he was able to use the facility with no problem. However, he did miss Curtis Manning. His usual gym partner had not yet returned to campus, and so Bryce had to avoid those exercises which required a partner. He had been doing that all summer, as Damon seldom considered that their relationship required that he work out in a gym with his partner. Besides, after being away from it for a while, Bryce realized he needed to work himself back into a regular regimen. So, he took it easy, but felt much better by the time he returned to the SAT house. There, he was surprised to find Damon already up and dressed. Damon chided him for wasting time. They needed to get busy finding a place to live for the coming year.
As soon as they completed breakfast that Monday morning, Bryce and Damon began checking out possible apartments for the coming academic year. The positive feelings experienced on Saturday and Sunday did not last long. Bryce had downloaded a hefty pile of advertisements listing rental units in Clifton, some of which had pictures, and all of which had addresses and prices. They began that morning visiting the most likely ones, but nothing seemed to be working out. Those they found attractive had already been rented for the coming semester. Others were outrageously different than their advertised condition. Two bedrooms in one instance involved a bedroom little larger than a closet. Separate bath meant a bath down the hall shared with several other renters, separate only from the owner on the next floor. Kitchen facilities meant a hot plate. Cable outlets for such amenities as computers and television were lacking in some. A couple of units were absolutely filthy. On more than one occasion, they were left with the distinct impression that a black person was not welcome. By Wednesday in the late afternoon, both Bryce and Damon were feeling a great deal less positive than they were on Monday morning.
That afternoon, as they were plodding back to the fraternity house from another abortive day, they noticed Dr. Dickinson leaving the house. He was the fraternity sponsor, so that was not in itself remarkable, but the academic year had not yet begun.
“Dr. Dickinson! Glad to see you,” Bryce greeted. “I hope you had a good summer.”
“Yes, quite profitable,” the professor replied, “and you? As I recall, you were off on the Grand Tour.”
“Yes, Damon and I spent a month and a half in Europe. On the whole, we had a great time,” Bryce said.
“And why are you and Mr. Watson here so early, may I ask?” Professor Dickinson enquired.
“We decided to rent an apartment off campus for the coming year. We’ve been looking at places for three days now, but haven’t found anything suitable,” Bryce explained.
“What do you have scheduled tomorrow morning?” Dr. Dickinson asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“More apartment hunting, I guess,” Bryce replied without much enthusiasm.
“If you think you can spare me the time, I would appreciate a visit at my office. I would like to hear about your travels,” the historian requested.
“Of course. Apartment hunting is not the most enjoyable of occupations. I welcome a change of pace, if only for a short time,” Bryce agreed.
“About nine o’clock, then,” Dr. Dickinson said. He then departed in his own inimitable way, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. Bryce considered he had never seen anyone walk quite like that before.
“You know,” Damon said, “I think Dr. Dickinson is one of us.”
“One of us?” Bryce asked.
“Gay, Man!”
Bryce considered. He really knew nothing of John Alcott Dickinson’s personal life. The professor had referred once to his family, but not, as far as he could remember, to a wife or children. Still … “No profiling, okay?”
“Okay. But I bet I’m right,” Damon replied.
That evening Bryce and Damon again ate at their favorite small restaurant. They were not ready for campus food. Not by a long shot. Afterwards, they again repaired to Pat’s for a couple of beers before returning to the SAT house for the night. While sitting quietly in a rear booth at Pat’s, with Bryce’s back to the front door, Damon suddenly went very rigid.
“What?” Bryce asked.
“It’s Mack,” Damon said, with shortness of breath.
“Mack Campbell?” Bryce asked, twisting around to get a look at the front part of the tavern. Sure enough, there was Mack Campbell strutting in, acting like the conquering hero.
Bryce and Damon remained very quiet. “I thought Mack was convicted and sent to jail,” Bryce said in a low voice.
Damon replied equally quietly. “He was. I was a witness at the trial, of course. I don’t know why he’s loose here.”
About that time, Mack was joined by his buddy Bick Lomax, and the two of them left the tavern, to the considerable relief of Bryce and Damon. A couple of minutes later, the bartender came around asking if they wanted another. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Bryce asked, “Wasn’t that Mack Campbell and Bick Lomax who were just in here?”
“Yeah,” the barman replied, his voice indicating he was not overly fond of those two.
“I thought they were convicted and sent to jail,” Bryce continued.
“Convicted, but not sent to jail,” the other responded. “Shows what money can do. Both of them got high priced lawyers, so they’re out pending appeal. Our legal system is very careful of the rights of the accused, especially if the accused have high priced lawyers,” the man said with considerable asperity.
“What are they doing here? Are they local?” Damon asked.
“Lomax is. Don’t think so as far as Campbell is concerned. Maybe they were just using this place as somewhere to link up. They sure didn’t buy anything.”
“Thanks. Bring us another round,” Bryce said, as the bartender moved on.
“Makes me wonder whether pursuing a career as a lawyer is really worth while,” Damon complained.
“You’ll be able to run rings about those high priced toadies,” Bryce assured him.
“High priced toadies with dozens of assistants and paralegals to look up everything for them,” Damon sighed.
They toasted the American legal system. Not!
The next morning, after Bryce’s workout and breakfast, he departed to see Dr. Dickinson, while Damon put in some time preparing for his classes. Even though it was early, if he were to become the ‘hot shot lawyer’ he spoke of, and best the high priced toadies, he would have to be the best of the best.
Bryce made his way to the corner office on the second floor of Filson Hall, and knocked on the door. He received the invitation “Enter” and did so, finding his academic advisor seated behind his desk, dressed in a three piece suit as usual even on this warm August day when school was not in session. Had he had the temerity to comment, Dr. Dickinson would no doubt have responded that the heating and air conditioning system in Filson worked quite well regardless of what went on outside.
“Ah, Mr. Winslow,” Dickinson exclaimed, for all the world as though he had not invited Bryce to visit only the evening before. “Please have a seat. Have a seat.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Bryce said, suiting action to words.
“So, you have returned after having made the Grand Tour, have you?”
“Not quite that grand, Professor,” Bryce protested, having in mind the Grand Tours of the English gentry in the eighteenth century, which often lasted a year or longer.
“Still, quite the circuit. Tell me about it,” the faculty member urged.
And so Bryce spent about an hour reciting the travels he and Damon had made during June and July, and answering a few questions the professor threw in along the way. After winding down, Bryce thought to ask about his instructor’s summer.
“Profitable. Like you, I crossed the pond, but my terminus was Britain, not the continent. I spent several very useful days at the Bodlian, but at last I was able to get into the Churchill papers,” he informed Bryce.
At first, Bryce was misled to wonder why this historian of the Early Modern period was concerned with World War II, but then remembered that the Duke of Marlborough’s name had been John Churchill. “Blenheim?” Bryce asked.
“Marvelous place. No other like it in the whole of the British Isles. You may recall from our coverage last fall semester that Marlborough was granted the Manor of Woodstock, where this manor house is located, following his splendid victory over the French in 1704. Interesting. Woodstock had often been granted to members of the royal family in earlier times. Thomas of Woodstock was the youngest son of Edward III, you know. Poor Vanbrugh. His reputation never recovered from the barbs thrown at him by the political enemies of the Duke.”
“Yes, Sir,” Bryce managed to slip in when the Professor took a breather in his enthusiastic descriptions.
John Dickinson paused, and gave Bryce a critical look. “Yes, well, ahem. Have you managed to find that accommodation you spoke of when last we met?”
“No, sir. Not yet,” Bryce replied, thinking to himself that it had only been the evening before when they had last met. Did Dr. Dickinson think he went apartment hunting at night or at the crack of dawn? People were rude enough when one called at a reasonable hour.
“Perhaps this will be of some service, then,” Dickinson said, passing to Bryce a slip of paper with an address and a name. The name was that of Dr. Conrad Caldwell. “Dr. Caldwell is a dear friend,” Professor Dickinson continued. “He’s emeritus in the Department now, of course. Must be well over eighty. All alone in that big old house, so he lets rooms to students. Might be what you’re looking for.”
“Thank you, Dr. Dickinson. We’ll be sure to check it out,” Bryce replied. Privately, he was not at all sure he wanted to rent from a personal friend of his academic advisor. There was such a thing as being too close. And rented rooms in a private home was not really what he and Damon were looking for. Still, it was thoughtful of the professor to consider them.
After some additional talk, Dr. Dickinson asked, “Why not go over your schedule of classes now? Then you won’t have to stop in to see me in two weeks.”
“Certainly, if you have the time, Sir,” Bryce replied.
“It’s all in the computer somewhere. Yes, here we are,” Dickinson said, peering at his computer screen as though he were trying to intimidate it. “You did an admirable job of fulfilling various distribution requirements last year, so this year should be easier. Yes. We have you signed up for my class in Medieval England at two o’clock. That’s not my period, you know, but someone has to cover it, I guess.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And then there’s Dr. Belzi’s class on the Italian Renaissance. He prefers the Tuesday-Thursday schedule. Um. Perhaps I should say nothing, but, as you have been such a stalwart, I might mention that, while he knows his material and is very well respected in the profession, Dr. Belzi is not a friend of your Church.”
“He would not take it out on me that I’m Catholic, would he?” Bryce asked with some concern.
“No, I don’t think so. That would be very unprofessional. But you might be prepared for some cutting remarks, and all the worst about the Renaissance Papacy,” Dr. Dickinson warned.
Bryce smiled. “I think I can handle it.”
Dickinson looked at him. “Yes, I think you can.”
“Here we are in your minor. Restoration period at ten on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. That does not parallel your history classes, as you did last year.”
“True, but I did not find anything in English paralleling the Italian Renaissance, and I am neither prepared to read Italian nor to tackle Chaucer,” Bryce replied.
“Very well. And Dr. Padgett’s Introduction to Art History on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. I don’t recall talking about that when you came in for advisement last semester,” the professor queried.
“No, Sir. I substituted it by computer after returning from our trip. I had been signed up for Music Appreciation, and was looking forward to learning more about Mozart.” He sighed. “You see, Damon is also signed up for Art History as a result of our travels, and we have no other class in common,” Bryce explained.
He was not sure, but Bryce thought Dr. Dickinson almost smiled at that. But he went on, “And more French. Very appropriate for your major interest, although we must get you into some French history before long. French Classicism with Dr. Anjot at nine in the morning. I believe you and he got along well enough last year.”
“Yes, Sir. And that does fit into my time period, even if across the channel,” Bryce replied.
“A good deal of influence of the French on England during our period. And you mustn’t get too specialized on the undergraduate level. That’s what graduate school is for. Very well, let me see.” Again concentrating mightily, Dr. Dickinson tackled his computer. At last, he turned toward Bryce with the flush of victory on him. “Here you are. Everything registered. Now all that is required is that your check be deposited with the Bursar’s office.”
“I believe my father has taken care of that, or will before the day of official registration, anyway,” Bryce replied.
“Very good. Very good.”
After spending time with his advisor, Bryce went in search of Damon, whom he found at the fraternity house deep in a textbook of political theory.
“Oooh, deep stuff,” Bryce teased.
“This year my curriculum calls for two semesters of political theory. I don’t know why I need to know that,” Damon grumbled.
“Because you need to know why things are done as well as how to do them,” Bryce chided him. “Don’t be an anti-intellectual.”
Damon flipped him off.
Then, they set out to vet more prospective apartments. Along the way, Bryce told Damon about the recommendation he received from Dr. Dickinson, but neither guy was enthusiastic about what they had learned. However, by four o’clock in the afternoon they were pretty discouraged. Just as on the previous three days, nothing seemed to fit. Nothing seemed to be as it was advertised. They were on foot for this part of their searches, only a short distance from campus, but in a direction they had not come to know last year. Damon happened to look at the street sign on the corner where they paused, and pointed, “Belgravia Court. Isn’t that where Dr. Dickinson’s friend lives?”
Bryce fished out the slip of paper from a pocket. “Yes. Number 814. Might as well take a look since we’re here.”
“But, Bryce, that’s 814,” Damon said, pointing to a vintage Victorian mansion on the corner, entirely of stone in three floors, with Romanesque arches marking the entrance porch, and not one but two towers pointing to the sky, one taller than the other. It was a veritable castle in Richardsonian Romanesque, doing sentinel duty at the entrance to the Court.
Bryce looked again at the slip of paper given him by Dr. Dickinson. Yes, 814 was the correct address. Still hesitant, the boys mounted the porch. Bryce noted a name under the doorbell - Caldwell. It seemed this was indeed the correct address. He pressed the doorbell. A chime sounded inside. Nothing happened for several minutes, and he was about to ring again, when he heard some shuffling noises. A face appeared in the window of the door. Then there were chains being removed and locks being unfastened. An elderly gentleman peered at them from behind a stout glass door reinforced with iron work.
“Yes?”
“Um, Dr. Caldwell?”
“Yes.”
“We’re students at the University looking for an apartment to rent for the coming year. Dr. Dickinson suggested that you might have something available,” Bryce said.
At the mention of Dr. Dickinson’s name, the hesitations apparent earlier disappeared. Dr. Caldwell unlatched the glass door, and invited them in.
“So, John sent you, did he?”
“Dr. Dickinson is my academic advisor. I spoke with him earlier today, and he gave me this address and your name,” Bryce said.
“Come in. Come in. I was just having tea,” Dr. Caldwell said, as he led them into a side room off the entrance hall, which he referred to as the parlor.
There were, indeed, evidences of a small meal on a side table next to a comfortable chair, and next to that an open book, which Bryce noted was about medieval Spain. Next to it was a very powerful magnifying glass.
“This is a very impressive house,” Damon said.
“Yes. Unfortunately, also an expensive one to maintain. I’ve lived here all my life. It was built in 1893 by my grandfather, who was much better at making money than I have ever been,” Dr. Caldwell said with a chuckle. “Of course, I went off to Yale for my degrees, but then came back here and taught at the college. Those were good years, but my eyesight began to give out. Can’t really do much research with poor eyesight, especially in medieval manuscripts. My work was in Visigothic Spain, you know. Almost as bad as Merovingian Gaul. Nothing worse. Orthography, grammar, vocabulary, and content. Sometimes I thought my students were taking lessons from the Merovingians,” Caldwell chuckled.
“Yes, Sir. I’m afraid I have only a cursory knowledge of that period,” Bryce said.
“Seminal,” the professor said. “The real Dark Ages, but seminal. But you’re interested in the rooms I have for rent. I do get distracted.”
“My friend here does that all the time,” Damon inserted, as Bryce glared at him.
“I don’t get around as well as I once did, so I have my quarters entirely on the ground floor now. The rental spaces are on the second and third floors. My renters on the third floor have already informed me that they will be back for the coming term, but both units on the second floor are currently vacant. Let’s go take a look,” Caldwell proposed, picking up a ring of keys from a side table.
He made his way back into the entrance hall, and turned to the left. They passed a grand staircase leading up, but did not stop there.
“That’s the main staircase, but I’ve had it blocked off on the second floor,” Dr. Caldwell explained. “You’ll be using the servants’ stairs,” he chuckled.
He led them through a doorway, which he unlocked. Immediately on the right was another and narrower staircase. Before mounting, however, he led them to the small vestibule, which opened to a door on the side of the house facing the side street.
“If you rent here, you will use this entrance and this staircase. While I try to be cooperative, I do prize my privacy, and do not encourage students in the ground floor rooms except for a good reason.”
“I understand,” Bryce replied.
They made their way up to the next floor, with Dr. Caldwell having some difficulty with the stairs. “As I said,” he puffed, “not as spry as I once was.”
They arrived in a narrow hallway, with the stairs continuing to the third floor, and with two doors, on the right and on the left sides, at the end of the hallway.
“The apartment at the back is somewhat smaller, and consequently somewhat cheaper. Let’s look at it first,” Caldwell said, unlocking the door on the right.
A hall led back to a window opening at the back of the house, and letting in a stream of sunlight. The house faced east, so at this time of day the sun came directly into this window, providing plenty of light to navigate the hall. On the left was a small bedroom, about the size of their rooms at the dormitory. On the right one about twice that size.
“If you decide to take this unit, you’ll have to fight over who gets which bedroom,” their host chuckled.
Continuing down the hall, a door opened to the left, which revealed a very commodious room with a great fireplace in the far angle.
“That’s a very attractive fireplace. Is it a working one?” Bryce asked.
“Oh yes. Most of the rooms have fireplaces. Did you miss the one in the larger bedroom? When the house was built, this was the usual way of heating a room. Now, of course, we have central heating and air. It was quite a job installing that, let me tell you. I’m glad I was much younger at the time. Actually, it was my parents who first had it done, but it’s been upgraded since then. To regulate it in this unit, you will have to open or close the vents in each room.” Dr. Caldwell walked over to the fireplace and pointed out the flue, and warned that if the fireplace were used, he expected it to be kept clean. There was a nice mirror over the mantel. Then they went back across the hall, where there was a small kitchen, and beyond that the bathroom.
Retracing their steps, they found themselves back in the hall by the staircase. Dr. Caldwell locked the door to the apartment they just viewed, and opened the other door. This led to the apartment in the front of the house. Bryce was already feeling good about this, knowing they were dealing with apartments and not just the “rooms” he had envisioned from Dr. Dickinson’s description. The entire ambiance of the house appealed to him. When they entered the front apartment, he was even more impressed.
There was a good sized “common room” as Dr. Caldwell called it, which was really the hall at the top of the main staircase. They could see over a bannister down to the ground floor, but the stairs themselves had been blocked off. Quite impressive for what was initially a landing, and about the size of the lounge or larger bedroom in the other apartment. It became even more impressive when one looked up, as the ceiling over both this common area and the staircase was decorated with stucco work and a delightful painting of a flower garden. To the right as they entered was a door, which opened to a large kitchen and dining area with its own fireplace. The room was spacious, furnished with a table which could easily seat six or more, plenty of counter space, and stove, refrigerator, and microwave.
“This was originally a bedroom, called a chamber on the architect’s drawings. But each unit had to have kitchen facilities, so I had them installed. I did try to respect the woodwork and I covered the floor with linoleum to protect the hardwood floors,” Dr. Caldwell explained.
Returning to the “common room,” they were led into what had once been the master bedroom. It was even more spacious than the kitchen, also with a decorated ceiling, and again had its own fireplace. Next to the fireplace there was a rounded alcove protruding out. Dr. Caldwell explained that this was part of one of the towers seen from the outside, and on the third floor had at this point a balcony looking into the side yard. Next to the master suite was the bathroom, once a dressing room, but now with all the modern facilities. Beyond that was a second bedroom. This was not quite as large as the master suite, but it did have its own fireplace as well. It also had a hexagonal front, forming part of the other tower as seen from the street. From both the master suite and this bedroom, doors opened onto a balcony which stretched across the top of the entrance porch, and was surrounded with a low parapet consisting of stout columns. There was also a glazed window into the bathroom. Obviously, when the house was remodeled to provide for rental spaces on the second and third floors, it was done by a first class architect and construction company, not some cheap and quick job. All was in keeping with the dignity of the house itself.
Dr. Caldwell chuckled that no sun bathing was allowed on the balcony. It might frighten the neighbors.
Having completed their tour and returned to the ground floor, Bryce and Damon asked for a moment to talk it over. Dr. Caldwell withdrew, leaving them in the front parlor where they first encountered him.
“Well?” Bryce asked.
Damon grinned. “You’ve been salivating ever since we entered that second apartment. Go ahead. As we agreed, I’ll be paying what my scholarship covers regardless of the actual rent, and I’ve never lived in a place as luxurious as this. It’s completely furnished. And its only about a fifteen minute walk to campus.”
“I object to ‘salivating,’ Bryce protested.
“How about slobbering at the mouth?’ Damon teased.
Bryce huffed, but grinned. They called to Dr. Caldwell, who re-entered the room.
“I have only one question,” Bryce said. “I have a car. Is there parking space, or is parking on the street?”
“Oh, there’s a carriage house in the rear. In fact, there’s another apartment on the second floor there, but like the unit on the third floor here, last year’s renters indicated they would be back this year. But I’m sure there will be space in the carriage house. The people who were here last year also had cars, and had no difficulty about that,” the retired professor assured them. “I never get back there these days. I’m afraid I don’t drive any longer, so when I have to go out, I call a taxi. But I believe the spaces there are marked for the various apartments.”
“This all looks wonderful, Dr. Caldwell. Damon and I are agreed. We’ll take the front apartment at the rent you mentioned,” Bryce said.
“Oh, good. I always like to have that unit rented to responsible persons. If John Dickinson recommends you, I’m sure you fit that description. It’s too large for some students, and once, when we tried to house four students in there, it got to be a problem. There are just the two of you, aren’t there?”
“Yes, Sir. Just us,” Bryce assured him.
“Very well. I have rental contracts here in my desk. Just let me take a look, and I’m sure I can find them without much trouble,” Dr. Caldwell said, as he crossed the entrance hall and entered a room lined with bookshelves. “This is the library,” he unnecessarily said as he approached a very nice desk situated against a wall. He rummaged about for some time, pulling out another powerful magnifying glass, which reinforced his earlier statement that his eyesight was bad. After not too long, he located the contracts he wanted. “I had these drawn up by a lawyer friend of mine, but I think you’ll find them satisfactory.”
“My father is a lawyer and he told us what to look for, but everything has been wonderful thus far, so I’m sure there will be no problems,” Bryce said, as he took the contract and began to peruse it. He actually scanned the entire document, and read a couple of clauses carefully. “This looks good,” he stated.
Then, making use of that magnificent inlaid wood desk, Bryce and Damon signed as renters, and Conrad Caldwell signed as owner. There were two copies, one kept by Dr. Caldwell, the other given to the guys. Bryce wrote a check covering the deposit and the first month’s rent. Then, Dr. Caldwell again accompanied them to the side door, and presented them with three keys, one to the side door, one to the apartment door on the next level, and one to the carriage house where Bryce’s Mustang would be housed. He again reminded them that they were to use the side entrance and respect his privacy on the ground floor. Then, Dr. Caldwell bade them adieu.
Bryce and Damon were excited about their new quarters, so much so that before returning to campus they walked around the grounds, and checked out the carriage house. There was room for four vehicles, but all the spaces were empty at present. The carriage house had a door opening to the side street, where a sidewalk led past the house to the corner at the entrance to Belgravia Court, but it also opened by way of four garage doors to the alley behind the property. The space marked for their unit was that nearest the street door.
Satisfied, they decided to spend the next few days moving in.