“I don’t know what I mean. But Maisie, let’s take a run down the studio, huh? There ought to be some excitement.”
April 5, 1977; that was the night the waveries came.
It had started like an ordinary evening. It wasn’t one, now.
George and Maisie waited for a cab but none came so they took the subway instead. Oh yes, the subways were still running in those days. It took them within a block of the MID Network Building.
The building was a madhouse. George, grinning, strolled through the lobby with Maisie on his arm, took the elevator to the fifth floor and for no reason at all gave the elevator boy a dollar. He’d never before in his life tipped an elevator operator.
The boy thanked him. “Better stay away from the big shots, Mr. Bailey,” he said. “They’re ready to chew the ears off anybody who even looks at ’em.”
“Wonderful,” said George.
From the elevator he headed straight for the office of J. R. McGee himself.
There were strident voices behind the glass door. George reached for the knob and Maisie tried to stop him. “But George,” she whispered, “you’ll be fired!”
“There comes a time,” said George. “Stand back away from the door, honey.”