To Save a Son (2 page)

The holiday growth was already underway in Spain, but there were still sufficient openings. Franks decided he didn't have time for the delays and restrictions of building his own hotel. He was lucky with the bankruptcy of another company, able to buy a hotel already virtually constructed and pick up the block-booking airline seats from the same bankruptcy. He got grants from a Madrid government anxious to encourage tourism, and used the signed and contracted Spanish agreement as collateral for the next approach to British banks—for an overdraft double what he'd asked before—and succeeded in getting three times the original. He held back again from building, instead launching a London takeover of a struggling company that already owned two hotels, was under-capitalized, and had hesitant family directors anxious to escape. He got the company cheaply, without fully expending his borrowed funds, so there was sufficient capital from the Madrid agreement to refurbish them to a high quality. It was a positive decision, copied from his father, who had always recognized the snobbishness of people and who had geared himself for a clientele who imagined they could afford something more expensive than an ordinary package holiday, even if they couldn't.

He graduated from block bookings on other companies' airlines, leasing instead entire aircraft with the agreement that they could be painted and ascribed to his own company. His heavy TV advertising had champagne as the theme, champagne flights and champagne accommodations and champagne service; it wasn't until the customers were in his specially painted and hostessed sections of the airport that they discovered the champagne was Spanish, not French.

Franks repaid the English overdrafts as quickly as before and this time persuaded the impressed Spaniards to increase their grants. Doubling his credit in London was practically a formality this time. He began purchasing completed villas, and for the first time he committed himself to the construction of apartment buildings.

The expansion from the mainland to Majorca and Minorca was natural. Increased business meant increased aircraft leasing, an arrangement which proved not only to be safe but practical because it produced tax advantages to offset his consistently high cash flow. From the Mediterranean islands he went into Tenerife, and, having decided his Spanish base was sufficient, Franks moved into France and Italy. He only bought existing properties—villas and apartment houses as well as hotels—although it was more difficult than it had been in Spain to get government support. He still managed assistance of up to sixty percent of the purchase prices.

Newspapers began referring to Eddie Franks as a buccaneer, and there was speculation in the City pages just how much he would be worth if he went public, instead of retaining the businesses as private, limited companies, restricting the directorships to himself and Tina, and filling the subsidiary positions with accountants and lawyers. Franks didn't want to go public. Although his rise justified the description “meteoric,” he had always been able to achieve sufficient capital through the banks, and had no need for a public share issue. Franks considered going public a danger; there were too many predators in the City, adept at takeovers, and, having worked practically to the exclusion of everything—even Tina—Franks didn't intend being a takeover victim.

Tina insisted she understood and was proud of his success—and he didn't doubt that she was—but Franks frequently regretted the absolute commitment that had been necessary. It would, he honestly recognized, have placed a strain on any marriage less secure than theirs. David was three when Tina became pregnant again. This time the baby was a girl, the birth as easy as before. Tina said she wanted to call it Gabriella, and that was the first time he'd been aware of her mother's Christian name.

Franks suggested that the baby be christened in America, with Tina's family, telling her it was his way of saying thank-you for all the sacrifices she had made. Which it was. But he was anxious to go to America so his surrogate family could learn how successful he'd become. He'd tried harder, just like Enrico Scargo always told him to. How well would Nicky have done, by comparison?

3

They sailed to New York with two nannies: a motherly, big-bosomed woman called Elizabeth, who was an already established part of the household as David's nanny, and a second nanny for the baby. The leisurely crossing on the
QE-2
allowed Tina a five-day rest, but there was a nostalgia involved as well. It was the first time Franks had sailed
to
America since the hazily remembered evacuation voyage; for the to-and-from education trips he'd always flown. Franks wanted as much contrast as possible from that first time and hoped the Scargo family would recognize it.

The arrival came near to the pattern Franks was trying to create. All the Scargo family were waiting, as they had been for the wartime docking. Not just Tina's mother and father and Nicky, but the cousins and aunts and uncles whose names Franks couldn't remember and failed to catch during the shouted, laughing, and sometimes crying introductions. Franks knew it was for Tina's benefit, not his this time, so he stood slightly back to let her enjoy it. Mamma Scargo cried openly and Enrico seemed affected, too, covering the need to swallow heavily by clasping Franks in the sort of enveloping embrace that he had once been used to. Only Nicky seemed completely controlled. He embraced his sister, certainly, but the greeting to Franks was a formal, hard handshake, accompanied by an immediate up-and-down examination, and Franks felt like the refugee he'd always been.

There was a cavalcade of limousines to the Westchester house, where the tables were set in the garden under awnings for the welcoming lunch. Enrico proposed toasts to his grandchildren, and his wife sat throughout the meal cuddling the baby protectively, at the head of the table. A floor had been laid across the tennis court and the screening taken down, and in the afternoon an orchestra arrived and there was dancing for the younger people.

Although the voyage had been relaxing, Enrico insisted they would be tired after the journey and ended the party early, before midevening. Inside the house then, Franks was aware for the first time of the effort to which Tina's parents had gone. A room adjoining their bedroom had been decorated as a complete nursery, with animal motif wallpaper, a tinkling, rotating mobile depicting the Jack and Jill nursery rhyme, overly large stuffed toys, and a basketwork crib festooned and primped with broderie anglaise. Tina, who'd cried already, cried again. Franks thanked them, and the Scargos smiled, happy at the appreciation of their gesture.

While Tina and her mother watched the children being bathed, Franks and Poppa Scargo went downstairs. The sitting room overlooked the tennis court, and when they entered, Nicky was at the window, watching the reluctant departure of the last stragglers and the caterer's efforts to clear up. He turned at their entry and, unasked, went to the drinks tray and poured brandy for his father. Enrico took it without thanks, accustomed to the service.

“Eddie?” invited Nicky, back at the drinks.

Franks hesitated, not wanting a drink but aware they might consider it rudeness if he refused; it was the first time they had been in any sort of proper family situation since the arrival. “Thank you,” he accepted. As the man he'd been brought up to regard as a brother handed him the goblet, Franks said, “How are things with you, Nicky?”

“Couldn't be better,” said the man.

“Tell him,” instructed Enrico proudly.

“I've been made a partner,” disclosed Nicky. “Two weeks ago.”

Fleetingly Franks had the impression of déjà vu. This was how it had always been between them, each having to parade their successes to the other. He supposed it was fitting that Nicky got the first opportunity.

“That's pretty good,” said Franks, recognizing Enrico's need for his true son to be praised. After his graduation from Yale Law School, Nicky had specialized in corporate law, going first to a Wall Street brokerage firm before transferring into one of the smaller law practices. Franks would have thought he was still too young for a partnership and wondered if Enrico had bought the entry, with some sort of investment.

“It's better than good; junior vice president is phenomenal after three years!” said Enrico. He was a red-faced, large-bellied man, physically larger than Franks remembered, who seemed to have grown into the role of patriarch he'd performed that afternoon.

“…
Come on! Come on, Eddie! Harder; you've got to try harder!
…” Franks blinked against the echo in his mind.

“Made your first million yet?” Enrico demanded abruptly, giving Franks his chance.

Franks hesitated; he'd forgotten a lot of Enrico's exuberance, too. He said, with intentional modesty, “Actually, I have. I've been lucky.”

“There's no such thing as luck in business,” boomed Enrico, whose trucking empire stretched to Chicago and who freighted at least fifty percent of the produce to the New York markets. He handed his empty glass to his attentive son for a refill and said, “You're both good boys. I'm proud of you.”

Franks felt vaguely discomfited at being patronized so openly and wondered if Nicky did as well. Did having made himself a millionaire match becoming vice president of a Manhattan legal firm? Better, decided Franks. Much better.

“Everything concentrated in England?” said Nicky.

Franks looked directly at the other man, unsure if the question implied insularity. “Not really,” he said. “Obviously the companies are headquartered in London, but the businesses extend throughout Europe.”

“Good boards?” asked the lawyer.

“Professional boards,” qualified Franks, unoffended at the questioning because it provided the opportunity to let them know how successful he was. “Each of the companies is limited; Tina and I control the stock.”

Franks saw Enrico's smiling nod of approval and felt the warmth of the unspoken praise that had been so important to him as a child.

“Fortunate position to be in,” said Nicky.

There was admiration in the lawyer's voice as well, and Franks' satisfaction increased. He said, “It's the way I always work.”

“Cautious man,” said Nicky.

Franks hesitated again, irritated at the accusation. He said, “There's a very big difference between proper caution and proper risk-taking.” It sounded stiffer than he intended; his father had been cautious. Certainly Franks didn't consider himself to be.

“Know what I'd like to see?” said Enrico. “I'd like to see you two together in some sort of business venture. You'd make a great combination.”

Before Franks could respond, Nicky said to him, “Ever considered expanding into the North American market?”

“Not really,” said Franks, wishing he had a better response.

“You should think about it,” urged Nicky. “America is where the really big business is done.”

That was definitely a remark designed to minimize what he'd achieved, decided Franks.

That Sunday, after the christening and the inevitable party, Franks predictably read the travel section of
The New York Times
, and when the idea came, studied more carefully the trade journals of the travel industry during the following week. It was definitely worth considering, he decided. He wished to hell it had occurred to him before his first conversation with Nicky and the old man; if he pursued it, the impression would be that he was taking their advice.
Harder, Eddie, try harder
, he thought.

4

Franks' idea was to extend into Caribbean cruising in a specialized way that would make him different from the owners sailing the specially designed, rake-browed vessels he'd read about that Sunday and which his subsequent market research showed to be the accepted way to cruise the area. Franks decided to introduce a complete contrast, promoting the luxury style and class of yesteryear. He inquired into buying one of the oldest ships that Cunard had to sell, a straight-stemmed monolith of high ceilings, handcrafted teak, chandeliers, and crystal glass. The purchase price was cheap, but the conversion costs would be exorbitant. Entire air conditioning was essential for the climate in which he intended to operate, as well as new, cheaper-to-run engines and kitchens and facilities to support a full complement of passengers for three or four weeks instead of the shorter Atlantic-crossing period for which the ship was originally created. There was no possibility of obtaining any sort of government assistance and the banks were unimpressed with the concept, arguing that the conversion was impractical in light of the number of newer, more suitable vessels available.

Franks refused to change his mind, and initially so did they. He commissioned blueprints and estimates from a marine architect and reduced some of the intended expenditure on catering facilities. The banks still refused to advance any more than eight million dollars, leaving him three million dollars short. Quite early in the negotiations the argument was made that he could raise all and more if he went public; the pressure was particularly strong from his main merchant bank, who wanted to broker the offering, but, as always, Franks rejected the suggestion, not wanting to expose himself on any stock market.

He didn't want to stop expanding, either. So he used his own money.

He told Tina before doing it, assuring her that, in absolute control as they were, if the cruise concept failed, they could dispose of the already owned hotels and villas to pay off the bank loans, and his own money was accrued capital. So if the venture failed, their life-style would not be destroyed.

But it didn't fail. “Yesteryear cruising” was an immediate and overwhelming success. Franks' ads blanketed American TV stations in the moneyed states of New York and Texas and Florida and California. This time the champagne in the ad was French, and the models dressed in 1920 flapper style and promoted the message against alternating Dixieland jazz and string orchestras. The demand was sufficient to have justified a second ship, but Franks, attuned to his market, didn't provide one. His ship was unique and had the attraction of rarity; the advertising introduced characters proclaiming a social cachet in actually having to wait for their voyage, disparagingly suggesting that there were other, inferior vessels, but that of course no one with class would consider lowering their standards by actually traveling on one.