HUNTING FOR SHOE LACES
Our last day, A.M. decided to do some shopping on foot and by herself. I made final preparations for our flight early in the morning to Mexico City. This done, I also went out on my own but not for the same purpose.
I had the National City Bank of New York branch bank in mind as one of my objectives; a bowl of Yardley's shaving soap as another; a shoe shine and a pair of shoe laces as two others. It is remarkable how many stores you can get into with good grace with that combination, if you are always careful to ask for the thing you feel sure they don't have. That opens the way gracefully for a pleasant conversation.
I gained friendly entrance to a world of places looking for the shaving soap, before I unexpectedly found it. That left the bank and the shoe laces to attain. The bank was a certainty, but in due time I actually became worried about brown shoe laces. I had asked in vain at too many places. Then all of a sudden my troubles were over—on ahead half a block was a sign, Florsheim Shoes.
I went to about where I thought shoe laces were located and asked the man for a pair of brown shoe laces. He answered he had none. He had black and white laces, but no browns. Brown shoes were outdated and always had been outdated. They were a thing a man of today was not using. The truth, so help me.
Shortly thereafter, still shoelaceless, I came to the National City branch, went in, introduced myself as a banker representing a bank that had had an account with the parent bank for over 50 years. The manager, a Mr. Cramer, was originally from Vermont, and therefore a hard man to crack, but the 50 years and the brown shoe lace trouble did the trick. He took me to lunch at the Union Club, a pretty nifty club quite near his bank and right against the Pacific Ocean. When we arrived the tide was out and the city's big cement sewer tiles were exposed for a quarter of a mile out. After lunch, which was delayed by three or four different kinds of rum, the rum or something had pulled the tide in and all the tiles were covered with water.
We got the brown shoe laces at a cobbler's shop, but they did have to dig under a big pile of old scrap leather and shoe shop saw dust to get them.