The Adventures of Chauncey Alcock

Adventure I

An Act of Patriotism

In which Our Hero performs a compassionate service and almost comes to grief. But by stick-to-itiveness he triumphs in the end and learns a valuable lesson thereby.

Good afternoon, Mr. Feldhausen," smiled Chauncey Alcock, for it was indeed he. "Forgive me for being a minute late, but I tarried at the local Chinese laundry to listen to Mr. Hot Kip's radio in an effort to ascertain how the baseball game is progressing. Our lads are winning!"

Mr. Gustave Feldhausen, proprietor of Feldhausen's Drugstore on the corner of Columbus Avenue and 74th Street in the city of New York, had been prepared to take his young delivery boy to task for his tardiness. Yet, as was so often the case, the youth's comely appearance, charm of manner and amiable smile were able to dissolve anger and bring an answering smile to the lips of the dour (but goodhearted) Dutchman.

"Ach [Oh], Chaunce," the merchant spoke, "zo many deliferies ve haf to make yet. Petter you should call your mudder now and tell her you vill late be brobably."

"An excellent idea!" young Chauncey cried, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. "In that manner, I will alleviate her worry and make certain she is able to obtain the nourishment of a substantial hot meal at her usual dining hour."

The lad used the emporium's private telephone, but, being well versed in the customs of commercial practice, he carefully left a "dime" (ten cents) alongside the phone--a habit that Mr.

Feldhausen looked upon with great approbation.

"Hello, Mother mine!" Chauncey sang out when he recognized that dear, familiar voice. "This is your son, Chauncey. How is your health this fair afternoon?"

His mother, the widow of a trolley motorman who, unfortunately, had been decapitated many years ago in a collision with a beer truck near Madison Square, replied that her dropsy seemed much better, thanks to the pills kindly supplied by Mr. Feldhausen, who allowed the widow and her hard-working son a professional discount on the purchase.

"Excellent!" Chauncey chortled. "Mother dear, I must inform you that there is a good possibility I may perhaps be late in arriving home this evening, as there are many deliveries that must be made."

Having assuaged his mother's anxiety, Chauncey then turned to the task at hand, tackling it manfully. In the next two hours, he made a grand total of 12 deliveries, one of which was to a distant residence on 93rd Street, necessitating the use of a "bus" (omnibus) rather than the bicycle that was his customary means of locomotion.

Finally, shortly after five P.M., Chauncey had only a single delivery remaining. It was to a "fashionable" address on Central Park West, to the apartment of a Mrs. Yvette Baldershank. The package itself was curiously shaped, being approximately two inches both in height and in breadth, yet almost ten inches in length.

Mr. Feldhausen, noticing the lad hefting the package in his hand, smiled tolerantly and said, "Chaunce, you could guess a million years, you could nefer guess what iz in that pox."

"A long roll of nougat?" Chauncey hazarded. "Or perhaps a matched pair of plastic knitting needles?"

"Nein [No]," the merchant chuckled, "nein [no], nein [no], nein [no]. It iz a powered-by-battery mazzager for women only. It iz dezigned zo the woman she should relaggs all over. You understand?"

"Gracious," the youth said, and the claret rose to his handsome features. Yet he was not unaware of Mr. Feldhausen's implied meaning, for only that afternoon, in his class in elementary biology, the subject had been the reproductive system of newts, and Chauncey had industriously studied the physiology of the female body insofar as it applied to newts and the higher mammals.

"Put of courze," Mr. Feldhausen continued to chuckle, "it can't combare with you, Chaunce!"

The proprietor was referring to an incident that had occurred only a week previously. There was a lavatory in the rear of Feldhausen's Drugstore for the use of the staff, which consisted of Mr. Feldhausen; Mr. Irving Benoit-Dreissen, the apothecary; and Miss Beebee Undershot, a young lady clerk who specialized in cosmetics. And, of course, young Master Alcock, a part-time employee.

Although Chauncey's kidneys were of the sturdiest, he occasionally made use of the store's ablutionary convenience. In the incident mentioned above, he was within this sanctuary, having completed his chore, and was about to fasten his trousers. Inadvertently he had neglected to latch the door, and Mr. Feldhausen, heeding "a call of nature," entered unexpectedly. His eyes fell to Chauncey's unzipped state.

"Gott in Himmel [Gosh]!" he cried.

While the boy modestly adjusted his nether garments, the merchant rhapsodized upon what he had seen, assuring the blushing lad that it was a "treasure without brice," that it would earn his fortune, that it would prove to be the "making" of Chauncey Alcock. Fearing he was being joshed, with no notion of the true value of the awesome proportions of his membrum virilis, the youth hurried off and thought no more of the matter.

Now, taking up the oddly shaped package, Our Hero mounted his faithful velocipede and pedaled off to the apartment of Mrs. Yvette Baldershank, his golden curls tossing in the breeze.

Imagine the lad's surprise when, arriving at Central Park West, he found the street blocked off by wooden barriers of the type utilized by the constabulary when preparing for a parade or other civic activity of a similar magnitude. Espying one of "New York's finest" standing at attention nearby, swinging his truncheon and keeping an alert eye peeled for any nefarious felon who might come within its ken, Chauncey approached the uniformed patrolman with a respectful demeanor.

"I beg your pardon, Officer," he inquired courteously, "could you inform me as to the significance of these preparations?"

"Begorra [Oh]," the burly Hibernian ejaculated with an open and honest smile, "'tis a parade we are expecting momentarily."

"Splendid!" cried Chauncey, hoping he might be able to spare a few moments to observe the marching hordes and enjoy the stirring music. "And whom, may I ask, will be parading?"

"Aha!" the minion of the law rejoined wisely, laying a finger alongside his roseate nose. "There's the rub--as the feller says in the massage parlor. For we fear that several groups of conflicting philosophies and political platforms may participate. Hence, we are standing by to prevent disorder and eliminate the possibility of potential bloodshed."

"A wise course," Chauncey nodded gravely. "Too often, in these uneasy times, a celebration of this nature serves as a mere excuse to exhibit behavior of a violent nature."

Chauncey thereupon wheeled his "bike" to the rear of the apartment house he sought. He refrained from chaining it to the iron railing of the delivery area, since the trusting youth felt such an act would reflect unfairly upon the honesty of his fellow citizens and indicate a lack of faith in the essential goodness of human beings.

Upon entering the lobby of this large and imposing structure from the rear, Chauncey was overwhelmed by its luxury and creature comforts. The floor was gleaming rubber tile, flecked with imitation marble chips, and the walls were hung with paintings of cacti, tastefully framed. The uniformed donzel in charge, a Nubian of impressive bearing, directed the delivery boy to an elevator by which he might ascend to the apartment of Mrs. Baldershank. Whereupon he was whisked upward speedily and silently--a tribute to the highly advanced art of American engineering.

Upon ascertaining the location of apartment 12-C, as directed by the lobby attendant, Chauncey Alcock knocked gently on the portal, which was a handsome veneer of pine showing some signs of chipping and whittling around the lock.

Almost immediately a clear, musical feminine voice inquired, "Who ees eet?"

"It is I, Chauncey Alcock, delivery boy for Feldhausen's Drugstore located on the corner of Columbus Avenue and Seventy-fourth Street, 'Your Health is Our Concern,'" replied the polite lad.

The door was opened almost at once. "Ah, you have brought my packahge," Mrs. Baldershank smiled, observing the attractive lad. "Do come een."

Chauncey entered and the lady closed the door quickly behind him and locked it. He turned and swept her with a keen glance, a smile tugging at his regular lips, so that she might not be offended by his searching examination.

She was, he saw at once, an older woman--perhaps as much as 30. She had an impressive embonpoint (presence) and was gracefully clad in an extremely short-skirted dress of cerise silk. Her eyes, which were large and swimming, had been accentuated by the judicious employment of mascara, eye shadow and false eyelashes. Her hair was tinted in Beauvoir's ocean-gold shade and she exuded a scent of Pardon's Morning of Love. Chauncey Alcock was aware of these salient details, since he sometimes assisted Miss Beebee Undershot at the cosmetic counter of Feldhausen's Drugstore when deliveries did not preclude such activity.

"Here is the merchandise you have ordered, ma'am," Chauncey smiled, proffering the strangely shaped package. "Since you maintain a monthly account with us, there will be no need to recompense me for this purchase at the present time. Thank you for your confidence in Feldhausen's. We appreciate your patronage."

He turned to depart, but Mrs. Baldershank put a soft hand upon his arm.

"Oh, don' run away," she protested.

"What deed you say your name ees?"

"Chauncey Alcock, ma'am."

"Ah, yes. And what are they calling you? Chaunze, n'est-ce pas [I guess]?"

"Yes. That is true."

"Well, Chaunze, how ees eet I have note seen you before at the drugstair?"

"I only work there part time, ma'am," Chauncey replied, "after I have completed my educational labors at the Tweed Senior High School, located at Amsterdam Avenue and Seventieth Street. I suspect you may be in the habit of shopping personally at Feldhausen's Drugstore, thus obviating the necessity of deliveries. Hence, it is comprehensible that I would not have had the pleasure of meeting you in person ere now."

"Zut [Come]," Mrs. Baldershank said, "alors [sit down for a minute]."

She led the youth to a couch covered with a rich brocade shot through with threads of silver and gold.

"What a beautiful couch," Chauncey said admiringly. "Covered as it is with a rich brocade shot through with threads of silver and gold."

"Zank you," the lady replied simply. "And now may I bring you zome refrashment? You must be hot and perspiry from your labors."

"Thank you, ma'am," Chauncey rejoined, his regular features alight with anticipatory pleasure. "I would greatly enjoy an ice-cold glass of milk, grade A, if such is available."

"Bon [Coming up]!" she cried and disappeared into the kitchen.

In the few moments he was alone, the ambitious delivery boy devoted his time to bettering his mind by admiring the (continued on page 184)Chauncey Alcock(continued from page 94) rich appointments of this luxurious apartment. There were real rugs on the floor and genuine oil paintings--painted by hand--on the walls. The curtains were of the most gossamer of silk and all the furniture had been dusted. The Alcock lad gazed his fill with gratification and delight. He vowed that someday, by dint of hard work and perseverance, he would dwell in a palace such as this and, in addition, he would possess a dog.

As Mrs. Baldershank exited from the kitchen carrying milk and a small glass of a green liquid on a silver salver, Our Hero had an opportunity to observe the grace of her carriage and the sinuousness of her movements. Despite her advanced age, there was a sprightliness about her figure.

Chauncey leaped to his feet as the lady approached, even as he had been taught by his dear mother. He took the glass of milk from the proffered tray and waited until the lady seated herself on the couch before he took his seat at the other end, thus proving his gentility.

"You 'ave bee-utiful manners, Chaunzey," Mrs. Baldershank observed, rising and seating herself considerably closer to the lad. "I like zat in a boy. Tell me, are you aware of what iz in ziz packahge you have delivered to me?"

All his life, Chauncey Alcock had been taught the value of truth. Honesty came to him as naturally as he breathed God's air, and although in this case he was momentarily tempted to follow the poet's advice--"Discretion is the better part of valor"--the habits of his young life could not be denied, and he replied, "Yes, ma'am, I am aware."

"You zee," Mrs. Baldershank said sorrowfully, looking down at her soupçon (small shot) of green liquid, "I am a divorzed woman." She looked up suddenly, directly into Chauncey's clear, guileless eyes. "I trurt you weel not think the lezz of me for that?"

"Dear lady," the youth said manfully, "I have been trained from birth never to scorn another's infirmity. You have my deepest sympathy."

"Zank you," she murmured. "You are zo underztanding."

Chauncey drank his milk, which was, indeed, grade A, while Mrs. Baldershank sipped modestly from her minuscule drink. Then she set it on the cocktail table (fashioned of real glass) and leaned toward Chauncey. She placed a warm hand upon his knee.

"You zee," she said, honesty and earnestness obvious in every syllable, "ve luffed each other but he was a louzzy lay."

"Of course," Chauncey nodded, taking a gulp of his milk, although, in truth, he was incapable of understanding her conversational gambit, since his childhood had been a sheltered one and he was innocent of the nuances (shticks) of adult behavior.

Mrs. Baldershank moved her hand upward from Chauncey's knee and gripped his hard, youthful thigh importunately.

"Oh, Chaunze," she moaned audibly, "I am zo lonezome."

The boy, whose heart was so generous that he could not hear of another's torment without genuine tears rising to his eyes, leaned toward the suffering woman. "Courage," he whispered. "Have strength."

The bereft lady's tears matched his drop for drop, and her head drooped upon his broad shoulder as her hand moved upward from his thigh and gripped him with the despairing grasp of a forlorn woman.

"Mon Dieu [Wow]!" she gasped. "Can eet be? Iz ziz de trut?"

Chauncey cast his eyes down chastely. "I am fortunately endowed," he acknowledged, with none of the brag that might be expected from a youth of cruder mold. "I trust it does not offend you?"

"Au contraire [Are you kidding?]," she laughed merrily.

She sat erect and swiftly unzipped his trousers. Incapable of responding to this totally unexpected and somewhat unnerving gesture, Chauncey could only sit quietly and retain what dignity he could in these unforeseen circumstances.

When his prize was revealed in all its splendid symmetry, Mrs. Baldershank could do nothing but gape at the object with astonishment. She seemed dangerously close to a swoon.

"Formidable [Formidable]," she whispered. "Never 'ave I zeen zuch a--"

But at that moment, even as her tremulous fingers timorously touched that which had excited her wonder and imagination, there was a burst of music from the street below; a brass band struck up the stirring strains of The Stars and Stripes Forever.

"'Tis the parade!" Chauncey shouted, jumping to his feet. "Please, Mrs. Baldershank, may we watch the proceedings from your window facing Central Park West, where, I believe, the spectacle will be clearly discernible?"

She rose unsteadily and the two moved to a wide window overlooking the thoroughfare, where they had an excellent view of the exciting activities.

Mrs. Baldershank, with the gentlemanly assistance of Chauncey Alcock, raised the window, affording an unobstructed survey of the scene. She leaned forward and projected her head and shoulders from the fenestration. Behind her, Chauncey in his eagerness pressed close to see the colorful ceremony being enacted on the street below.

"Très bien [That feels good]," she murmured and kindly reached around with both arms so that her hands might grasp Chauncey's hips and pull him closer to her, thus offering him an improved view.

At the moment, a marching group of all sexes was parading along the avenue, holding up signs that read freedom now and down with slavery and Repeal the Hot-Dog Tax and other firmly held beliefs. Following them came a brass band that was enthusiastically essaying the opening movement (andante) of Sam Ranowski's Fugue for a Piccolo and Three Cellos. Young Alcock noted a certain amount of preliminary disorder; there appeared to be several organizations dashing back and forth, infiltrating one another, grabbing opposing banners, flags and placards, setting up various chants. He clearly heard such shouted opinions as "Gay is gorgeous" and "Black will overcome." Indeed, at one point, shrill feminine screams of "Down with penis envy!" and similar sentiments rent the air and he saw two guardians of the peace wade into the parade with truncheons rising and falling.

"It's just bully!" he shouted enthusiastically to Mrs. Baldershank.

"Oui [Yes]," the lady muttered abstractedly, and so engrossed was the pure-minded lad with the agitation on the street that he was scarcely aware that his hostess, still bending over the window sill, had demurely parted her nether limbs, flipped up the hem of her cerise gown and with practiced fingers guided his engorged cudgel into that sweet grotto that is more precious than life itself.

"A coup sÛr [Isn't this fun?]," she cried, and Chauncey agreed, pressing closer to her and straining over her shoulder to observe the merriment below.

"Mon cher [This is great]," Mrs. Baldershank gasped, wriggling with delight as more confused companies of paraders and bands struggled by, the marchers chanting militant slogans and the musicians striving desperately to adhere to the printed scores projecting from clips on their instruments.

"I do so love a parade," Chauncey yelled in the lady's ear, since the level of noise had risen and he feared she might not take his meaning.

In fact, the confusion now engendered noise of such amplitude that Mrs. Baldershank was able to communicate only by gestures, grunts and bodily movements, all of which served them in good stead. Chauncey was happy to see that her delight in the parade was obviously greater than his, for she seemed in a rapture of gratification and he was forced to grip her hips, respectfully, slightly below the waist, lest she launch herself from the window in a transport of joy.

But then, even as a passing band was attempting "Off we go, into the wild blue yonder," the lady heaved a huge sigh and seemed to collapse across the window sill. Showing great presence of mind and no inclination to panic (characteristics that were to serve Chauncey Alcock well in the many crises that lay ahead in his eventful life), the youth held her firmly and, still connected intimately, supported her limp body back into the room.

"Chaunze," she murmured. "Oh, Chaunze."

"Yes," he smiled agreeably, "it is a marvelous parade. But I fear I may tarry no longer. My dear mother has prepared a nourishing repast of stuffed turnips and, although she has undoubtedly already dined, I am certain she awaits my return with ill-concealed anticipation. And so, ma'am. ..."

But, much to his dismay, when Chauncey Alcock attempted to disengage from the person of Mrs. Yvette Baldershank, it proved impossible, and she offered a small shriek, crying, "Zut [It hurts]," looking back over her shoulder with such a piteous glance that the poor lad's heart was stricken.

"What seems to be the difficulty?" he inquired.

"We are zhtuck!" she exclaimed. "Do not pull, I beg of you, lezt I be turned inzide out. Oh, Chaunzey, what are we to do?"

The youth with gentle movements tried once again to extract his empurpled lance from the Mystic Cavern; but in spite of spirited contortion on the part of both participants, all was to no avail; they remained glued together, Chauncey's front to the back of the patron of Feldhausen's Drugstore, his face buried in her fragrant hair.

"We must remain calm," the boy decided after some deliberation, for even at his early age, he had learned the value of that motto of one of America's greatest and most prestigious corporations: "Think." "I suggest," he offered, after deep and silent cogitation, "that we seek medical advice and assistance."

"Eggszellent," Mrs. Baldershank gasped. "I 'ave joost the man--my family doctair. He is vary underztanding and joost up Central Park Wezt."

With great difficulty, and a brief yelp of bliss from the lady, the two struggled to their feet and stood a moment in file, closely pressed, spoon fashion.

"Ma'am," Chauncey suggested diffidently, "might I suggest we start out on the right foot? By that means, moving as one four-legged person, as it were, I believe we may achieve locomotion."

"Thees doctair does not make houze calls. We must go to hees offeece!"

Chauncey Alcock nodded understandingly, his keen brain racing as he appraised the situation. "The difficult I can do immediately," he murmured thoughtfully. "The impossible takes a little longer."

Like all great schemes in the history of the human race, it was simplicity itself. Chauncey suggested they walk, in lock step, out to the elevator, descend to the street and join the confused parade still passing the door of the luxury apartment house in which she dwelt. So great was the hubbub, Chauncey argued cogently, to say nothing of the stramash, that their unconventional Siamese-twins position would scarcely be noted, and they might proceed to the physician's office by parading north on Central Park West to 83rd Street, a stroll of a mere dozen short blocks.

Mrs. Baldershank readily agreed to Chauncey's plan as being the best solution to a difficult quandary.

Having gained access to the street, and hence to the parade, they immediately joined the group passing at the moment and were welcomed warmly. It appeared to be an organization formed for the purpose of repealing all restrictive laws dealing with illicit fornication. Their chant, "Love is peace, love is peace, love is peace!" made the welkin ring; and as they moved uptown, Mrs. Baldershank and Chauncey Alcock joined in the chant with a right good will.

All proceeded expeditiously, the two striding smartly in compact cadence, as required by their unfortunate physical pickle, when suddenly disaster struck. The organization immediately following the "Love is peace!" group was composed of motley individuals, many of whom wore hard plastic helmets of the type favored by construction workers to protect their skulls from falling objects. This company, whose philosophy and platform were not made entirely clear by their banners, set up an answering chant of "Continence forever!" to drown out the repeated "Love is peace!" cry of the preceding aggregation.

In a twinkling, all became confusion and exploding violence. The "Continence forever!" people invaded the ranks of the "Love is peace!" adherents and soon shouts of anger and fury could be heard, signs were being swung, individual assaults were launched and the parade degenerated into an imbroglio of flying fists and whipping banners, interspersed with the shouts and whistles of policemen who immediately waded into the riot and began laying about vigorously with their truncheons in an effort to restore law and order.

Now occurred a brief incident that illustrates, as perhaps nothing that has gone before can do as well, the exemplary character and lofty ideals of Feldhausen's delivery boy.

To one side of Chauncey, a stout gentleman with muttonchop whiskers, a member of the "Love is peace!" group, was carrying an American flag attached to a wooden pole. Struck on the temple by what appeared to be a loaded shopping bag wielded by a lachrymose female constituent of the "Continence forever!" organization, the flag-bearer's eyes glazed, he groaned with pain and released his hold on the flagstaff. Old Glory began to fall and was in dire danger of touching the ground!

Sizing up the alarming situation in a flash, Chauncey Alcock leaped forward--a movement that educed a short moan of ecstasy from Mrs. Baldershank--and snatched up the staff ere the Stars and Stripes be sullied beneath the feet of the maddened rioters. Thereupon the quick-witted lad hoisted the Splendid Banner on high and urged his partner to redouble her efforts as he sought to press clear of the surrounding tumult.

Finally, struggling free of the mass of insensate paraders and joyous patrolmen, Mrs. Baldershank and Chauncey gained the sidewalk at 82nd Street and went running as fast as their linked four legs could take them, their four knees rising high, the Glorious Device snapping in the breeze above them. Their curious conduct once more inspired from passers-by amazed stares and shouted comments of a coarse nature that have no place in this account.

What remains of this tale may be reported in short order. Fortunately, the outer office of Dr. Ramon Perdidio was occupied by only three patients. Placing Old Glory and its staff carefully in the umbrella rack, Chauncey Alcock sank thankfully into a comfortable armchair, Mrs. Baldershank in his lap, naturally, and nodded in a friendly fashion to the waiting patients.

Finally, the nurse smiled at the waiting twosome and said, "Doctor will see you now."

Dr. Perdidio sized up their predicament in a glance and, using the most advanced medical technique developed at one of America's great research centers, requested both to step outside onto the fire escape that adjoined his office window. There he doused them with a bucket of ice-cold water. They immediately separated, with a shudder, and went back to the nurse's desk, where, dripping, they were presented with a rather substantial bill for medical services rendered. Fortunately, it was covered by Chauncey's subscription to Blue Cross.

However, before this happy ending was concluded, Dr. Ramon Perdidio had an excellent opportunity to observe the most outstanding feature of Chauncey Alcock's manly physique.

"Por Dios [Gee]!" the good doctor exclaimed and asked the lad's permission to summon his colleagues from nearby medical suites to view the phenomenon.

The Alcock boy modestly agreed, feeling that he must do what he could to further the cause of medical knowledge. Soon he was surrounded by examining physicians, nurses, laboratory technicians and elevator operators, all of whose wonder knew no bounds. Measurements were made with a yardstick, weight was determined on a postage scale ($4.86 at the first-class rate) and Polaroid photographs were taken from a variety of angles. Dr. Perdidio declared his intention of writing a monograph on the subject to be published in the professional journal Strange Medical Facts of Massachusetts. Parenthetically, it may be noted that several of the (female) nurses turned glances of envy on Mrs. Baldershank and a few even murmured congratulations into the lady's ear, all of which she accepted graciously.

Mrs. Baldershank and Chauncey Alcock shook hands firmly outside the doctor's office building. The parade and riot had ended; all was at peace along the great thoroughfare that cut its way through the pulsing heart of the teeming city.

"I weel see you again, weel I not?" the lady inquired anxiously of the sturdy lad.

"Whenever a delivery must be made from Feldhausen's Drugstore, I shall be available," the youth declared stoutly.

And so Our Hero, Chauncey Alcock, wended his way homeward, feeling the satisfaction of an honest day's labor faithfully accomplished. He resolved to reclaim his bicycle on the morn. In truth, it had been a busy day, chock-full of activity, and he yearned for the peace and security of his own home.

His dear mother, Mrs. Alcock, had already retired when he arrived, and Chauncey moved softly while heating up his nourishing supper of stuffed turnips, so as not to disturb her. Fortunately, the following day was Saturday, so that it was not necessary to prepare homework for school. But, in order that the evening would not be a total loss, the ambitious lad read three pages of Tide Tables for Norfolk, Portsmouth and Environs before bathing and slipping into his trundle bed.

He was about to extinguish the light when his dear mother roused and called from the adjacent room. "Chauncey, dear," she inquired, "did you remember your ablutions ere donning your pajamas?"

"I did, indeed, Mother mine," Chauncey replied cheerfully, "for I know full well that cleanliness is next to godliness."

And with that, the brave, resolute lad spoke his prayers and slipped into a dreamless sleep.