The ''Genius'' by Theodore Dreiser (books to read in your 30s .txt) 📕

into the millionaire class! His own brains would be of some value here, for Winfield was anxious to have him lay this out, and this would bring him in touch with not only one of the best real estate men in the city, but would bring him into contact with a whole host of financiers in business, people who would certainly become interested in this venture. Winfield talked easily of architects, contractors, railroad men, presidents of construction companies, all of whom would take stock for the business opportunities it would bring to them later and also of the many strings to be pulled which later would bring great gains to the company and save it from expenditures which would otherwise mean millions in outlay. Thus this proposed extension by the Long Island which would cost that railroad two hundred thousand dollars would cost the Sea Island Company nothing and would bring thousands of lovers of beauty there the moment conveniences were established to receive them. This was true of hotels to be built. Each would bring business for everything else. The company would lease the ground. The great hotel men would do their own building according to restrictions and plans laid down by the Sea Island Company. The only real expenditure would be for streets, sewers, lights, water, walks, trees, and the great one hundred foot wide boardwalk with concrete ornaments which would be the finest sea stroll in the world. But these could be undertaken by degrees.

Eugene saw it all. It was a vision of empire. "I don't know about this," he said cautiously. "It's a great thing, but I may not have the means to dip into it. I want to think it over. Meanwhile, I'll be glad to go out there and look over the ground with you."

Winfield could see that he had Eugene fascinated. It would be an easy matter to land him once he had his plans perfected. Eugene would be the type of man who would build a house and come and live there in the summer. He would interest many people whom he knew. He went away feeling that he had made a good start, and he was not mistaken.

Eugene talked the matter over with Angela—his one recourse in these matters—and as usual she was doubtful, but not entirely opposed. Angela had considerable caution, but no great business vision. She could not really tell him what he ought to do. Thus far his judgment, or rather his moves, had been obviously successful. He had been going up apparently because he was valuable as an assistant, not because he was a born leader.

"You'll have to judge for yourself, Eugene," Angela finally said. "I don't know. It looks fine. You certainly don't want to work for Mr. Colfax all your life, and if, as you say, they are beginning to plot against you, you had better prepare to get out sometime. We have enough now, really, to live on, if you want to return to your art."

Eugene smiled. "My art. My poor old art! A lot I've done to develop my art."

"I don't think it needs developing. You have it. I'm sorry sometimes I ever let you leave it. We have lived better, but your work hasn't counted for as much. What good has it done you outside the money to be a successful publisher? You were as famous as you are now before you ever started in on this line, and more so. More people know you even now as Eugene Witla, the artist, than as Eugene Witla, the magazine man."

Eugene knew this to be so. His art achievements had never forsaken him. They had grown in fame always. Pictures that he had sold for two hundred and four hundred had gone up to as high as three and four thousand in value, and they were still rising. He was occasionally approached by an art dealer to know if he never intended to paint any more. In social circles it was a constant cry among the elect, "Why don't you paint any longer?" "What a shame you ever left the art world!" "Those pictures of yours, I can never forget them."

"My dear lady," Eugene once said solemnly, "I can't live by painting pictures as I am living by directing magazines. Art is very lovely. I am satisfied to believe that I am a great painter. Nevertheless, I made little out of it, and since then I have learned to live. It's sad, but it's true. If I could see my way to live in half the comfort I am living in now and not run the risk of plodding the streets with a picture under my arm, I would gladly return to art. The trouble is the world is always so delightfully ready to see the other fellow make the sacrifice for art or literature's sake. Selah! I won't do it. So there!"

"It's a pity! It's a pity!" said this observer, but Eugene was not vastly distressed. Similarly Mrs. Dale had reproached him, for she had seen and heard of his work.

"Some time. Some time," he said grandly; "wait."

Now at length this land proposition seemed to clear the way for everything. If Eugene embarked upon it, he might gradually come to the point at which he could take some official position in connection with it. Anyhow, think of a rising income from $250,000! Think of the independence, the freedom! Surely then he could paint or travel, or do as he pleased.

As a matter of fact, after two automobile rides to the nearest available position on the site of the future resort and a careful study of the islands and the beach, Eugene devised a scheme which included four hotels of varying sizes, one dining and dancing casino, one gambling resort after the pattern of Monte Carlo, a summer theatre, a music pavilion, three lovely piers, motor and yacht club houses, a park with radiating streets, and other streets arranged in concentric rings to cross them. There was a grand plaza about which the four hotels were ranged, a noble promenade, three miles in length, to begin with, a handsome railway station, plots for five thousand summer homes, ranging from five to fifteen thousand in price. There were islands for residences, islands for clubs, islands for parks. One of the hotels sat close to an inlet over which a dining veranda was to be built—stairs were to be laid down to the water so that one could step into gondolas or launches and be carried quickly to one of the music pavilions on one of the islands. Everything that money wanted was to be eventually available here, and all was to be gone about slowly but beautifully, so that each step would only make more sure each additional step.

Eugene did not enter on this grand scheme until ten men, himself included, had pledged themselves to take stock up to $50,000 each. Included in these were Mr. Wiltsie, President of the Long Island; Mr. Kenyon C. Winfield, and Milton Willebrand, the very wealthy society man at whose home he had originally met Winfield. The Sea Island Company was then incorporated, and on a series of dates agreed upon between them and which were dependent upon a certain amount of work being accomplished by each date, the stock was issued to them in ten-thousand-dollar lots and then cash taken and deposited in the treasury. By the end of two years after Eugene had first been approached by Winfield he had a choice collection of gold-colored certificates in the Sea Island Realty and Construction Company, which was building the now widely heralded seaside resort—"Blue Sea"—which, according to those interested, was to be the most perfect resort of its kind in the world. His certificates stated that they were worth $250,000, and potentially they were. Eugene and Angela looking at them, thinking of the initiative and foresight of Mr. Kenyon C. Winfield and the men he was associated with, felt sure that some day, and that not so very far distant, they would yield their face value and much more.

CHAPTER IV

It had been while he was first perfecting his undertaking with Winfield as to what his relationship to the new Sea Island Construction Company was to be that Eugene had been dwelling more and more fondly upon the impression which Suzanne Dale had originally made upon him. It was six weeks before they met again, and then it was on the occasion of a dance that Mrs. Dale was giving in honor of Suzanne that Eugene and Angela were invited. Mrs. Dale admired Angela's sterling qualities as a wife, and while there might be temperamental and social differences, she did not think they were sufficient to warrant any discrimination between them, at least not on her part. Angela was a good woman—not a social figure at all—but interesting in her way. Mrs. Dale was much more interested in Eugene, because in the first place they were very much alike temperamentally, and in the next place because Eugene was a successful and brilliant person. She liked to see the easy manner in which he took life, the air with which he assumed that talent should naturally open all doors to him. He was not conscious apparently of any inferiority in anything but rather of a splendid superiority. She heard it from so many that he was rapidly rising in his publishing world and that he was interested in many things, the latest this project to create a magnificent summer resort. Winfield was a personal friend of hers. He had never attempted to sell her any property, but he had once said that he might some day take her Staten Island holdings and divide them up into town lots. This was one possibility which tended to make her pleasant to him.

The evening in question Eugene and Angela went down to Daleview in their automobile. Eugene always admired this district, for it gave him a sense of height and scope which was not easily attainable elsewhere about New York. It was still late winter and the night was cold but clear. The great house with its verandas encased in glass was brightly lit. There were a number of people—men and women, whom Eugene had met at various places, and quite a number of young people whom he did not know. Angela had to be introduced to a great many, and Eugene felt that peculiar sensation which he so often experienced of a certain incongruity in his matrimonial state. Angela was nice, but to him she was not like these other women who carried themselves with such an air. There was a statuesqueness and a sufficiency about many of them, to say nothing of their superb beauty and sophistication which made him feel, when the contrast was forced upon him closely, that he had made a terrible mistake. Why had he been so silly as to marry? He could have told Angela frankly that he would not at the time, and all would have been well. He forgot how badly, emotionally, he had entangled himself. But scenes like these made him dreadfully unhappy. Why, his life if he were single would now be but beginning!

As he walked round tonight he was glad to be free socially even for a few minutes. He was glad that first this person and that took the trouble to talk to Angela. It relieved him of the necessity of staying near her, for if he neglected her or she felt neglected by others she was apt to reproach him. If he did not show her attention, she would complain that he was conspicuous in his indifference. If others refused to talk to her, it was his place. He should. Eugene objected to this necessity with all his soul, but he did