A Race to Splendor (18 page)

On several occasions, Julia made it plain to Amelia that the clients were to be
her
exclusive province. “Amelia, I wish all conversations and requests be referred directly to me. That way, there won’t be any confusion or miscommunication,” she added pointedly.

A few days earlier, Amelia and Ira Hoover had been alone in the work shed after Julia had given Amelia a public dressing down for informing Hartland Law directly that a friend had stopped by to see him earlier that morning.

“For pity’s sake, Ira! Julia doesn’t even trust us to tell the clients what size
nails
we’ll be using!”

Hoover, a slender young architect with wire-rimmed glasses and dark hair, parted in the middle, grinned across his drafting table. “To tell the truth, Amelia, I was mighty lonely in this job till you turned up. Now, at least, there are
two
of us she can verbally horse-whip if we dare speak directly to her precious clients.”

Now on this cold, dank day, Amelia gazed at the ladder leading to the scaffolding and mentally squared her shoulders. Julia Morgan was a genius of sorts, and nothing would alter Amelia’s respect for her talent and ability. Her employer obviously had a bee in her bonnet about keeping
her
employers as her special province.

Well, so be it
, thought Amelia, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves at the thought of climbing six stories. At least they all had work, thanks to Julia. She made a silent vow to rededicate herself to prove her mettle to the senior architect—and her loyalty.

“Wait!” she called out, hurrying to catch up with her employer who had one boot on the bottom rung of the ladder. “I’ll go with you.”

A half hour later, the two women hoisted themselves from the scaffolding onto a section of the ravaged roof that looked reasonably intact and peered down the air shaft into the shattered lobby nearly a hundred feet below.

Just as the pair of architects had reached the top of the Fairmont’s charred remains, J.D. Thayer wheeled up to the site in the Winton, red crosses still painted on its doors. He stood with hands on hips, his dog by his side, gazing upward, along with many of their construction workers, apparently awestruck by the sight of two ladies dressed in men’s trousers beneath their skirts, scampering up the outside of the building.

Unaware of Thayer’s arrival below, Amelia surveyed with dismay the extent of the devastation to the upper floors caused by the fire that had reached some 2700 degrees.

“Oh Lord… what a mess,” she murmured.

“If anyone ever doubted that heat rises, they should stand right here,” Julia declared. She surveyed the other sections of the collapsed roof. “The Law brothers have finally accepted the sad truth that we must replace many of the structural beams and columns that support the upper floors. From what we’ve seen so far, it looks as if we’ll have to start in the basement and methodically work our way to the sky with reinforcing construction.”

“At least the basement’s already cleared of rubble and shorn up with support posts,” Amelia volunteered, putting the best face on the enormous job that lay ahead.

“My biggest task,” cautioned Julia, “is to be sure that the standing walls, and the brick masonry reinforcing them, don’t cave in when the workers cart away all that deformed metal and wood on the upper floors. Ira or I must be at their elbows every single instant.”

In Amelia’s opinion, the architect already looked worn out, and they still had miles to go before the job was complete. “Julia, I hope you’ll count on me to help you in any way possible.”

“That is what I pay you for,” the older woman replied briskly, and Amelia marveled that the same person who had been unfailingly kind during her years of training now treated her as if she couldn’t put a foot right. “And besides, you’ll have your hands full seeing to it that Mr. Thayer doesn’t use substandard materials and craftsmen in the execution of my plans for the Bay View.”

Your plans?
Amelia thought, an unexpected wave of rebellion tingling her spine.

In this rare instance, given Amelia’s intimate knowledge of the site and the pressure of time, Julia had assigned her the lion’s share of the design work.

A collaboration at the very least.

No wonder Ira Hoover called their employer The Czarina behind her back.

Amelia shifted her glance to avoid Julia detecting the annoyance she could hardly disguise. Six stories below she caught sight of the big, blue Winton, and couldn’t resist looking to see if J.D. was in the audience observing the women’s daring ascent to review the state of the Fairmont’s upper floors.

One look at the ground, seven floors below, and she felt a momentary attack of dizziness. To steady herself she surveyed the astounding panorama of water, hills, and sky. Facing north, she brooded over the impressive progress at Taylor and Jackson streets, four blocks away. In spite of giving Julia J.D.’s letter holding the Morgan firm harmless, should she describe in more detail her ongoing problems at the Bay View project? Julia was so preoccupied with similar issues at the Fairmont, Amelia had wanted to spare her having to wrestle with such additional difficulties.

The younger architect had already demanded J.D. force his workers to reframe a good third of the second floor this week. Dare she relate the countless wrangles she’d had about Kemp’s men cutting every corner they could get away with? Given Julia’s recent moods, she’d probably consider Amelia’s independent efforts to keep bad news from her blatant insubordination. And despite Julia’s recent frostiness, Amelia couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor woman, wondering how many problems could her small shoulders bear.

Meanwhile, Julia pointed to an army of carpenters swarming over the framing of the new Bay View Hotel. “So, Mr. Thayer’s site supervisor and workers are toiling away, I see. I must get over there tomorrow to inspect the quality of their work.”

“I’m sure Mr. Thayer will want your opinion,” Amelia replied.

Let Julia see for herself,
thought Amelia, feeling some of her sympathy for Julia draining away. Without truly deputizing her second-in-command to act in her stead, it
was
Julia’s responsibility to monitor developments at the Bay View. If the head of the Morgan firm insisted on controlling every little detail on both building sites, then
let
her!

Site supervisor Dick Spitz had continued to arrive at the site drunk half the time and thus let his workers like foreman Kelly, who also served as head carpenter, get away with larceny. When she’d pointed this out, J.D. replied he was equally frustrated and did, indeed, dress the men down, but no changes in their behavior were evident.

“The problem remains, Miss Architect,” J.D. had said during this same conversation, “that Ezra Kemp is still the only source of manpower I dare employ if the Bay View is to be completed and opened for business ahead of our rival down the street.”

Amelia was startled from her reverie by the sound of Julia’s boot scuffing against some charred wreckage on the Fairmont’s roof.

Face it, Amelia… you can do nothing to affect the way any of these headstrong people behave…

She inhaled a deep breath and drank in her airy surroundings atop the wounded Fairmont and attempted to keep her thoughts upon the majestic view of the bay.

“It’s so beautiful up here,” she murmured, scanning the misty outlines of Angel Island and Marin County to the north. “Even when it’s overcast like this.”

“You’re not bothered by the height?”

“Truthfully, I feared I might be, but I’m not very much if I don’t look down.” Amelia stretched her arms to encompass her new world. “In fact, now that I’m finally up here, I find it exhilarating!”

“Well, I wouldn’t get carried away, and please,
do
hold on to the scaffolding.”

Obeying orders, Amelia surveyed the roof. “You know, Julia, if the Fairmont Hotel can open its doors on or before the anniversary of the quake and fire, think how the entire city will take heart.”

To the best of her professional ability, she would perform every task J.D. and Julia asked of her, and certainly would do nothing to retard the progress at Taylor and Jackson, but she secretly hoped that the Fairmont would beat the new owner of the Bay View Hotel at his own game. Maybe it would teach Thayer an important lesson: quality far outweighed speed, especially when it came to erecting public buildings.

“The citizens of San Francisco will take inspiration from our work,” Julia agreed, “but only if we meet the deadline, our budget, and our standards of excellence. Let’s hope we can do all three for both hotels.” Julia gestured toward the bay. “Few women, Amelia, ever have the privilege of gaining such a rarefied view.” She squinted at the western sky. “The day’s drawing to a close. It will take us at least a half hour to climb down from here. We’d best be going.”

Amelia again noted the Winton parked below and was now acutely conscious that J.D. Thayer was watching intently as she and Julia began their treacherous descent. Thayer was paying them a daytime call—or more likely, he was making a close inspection of progress at Mason and California streets. Vaguely uneasy, Amelia wondered if something untoward had happened at the Bay View site.

Well, she thought, gingerly putting her weight on the next rung of the ladder, Julia’s sharp-eyed inspection was bound to discover what it was.

At long last, Amelia’s sturdy ankle boots rested on solid ground. Before she could turn around, she heard J.D. address Julia in a tone that signaled he was highly displeased.

“Look here, Miss Morgan. I thought Miss Bradshaw was working for
me.
”

Chapter 15

What is it you require, Mr. Thayer?” Julia asked, glancing with barely veiled annoyance in Amelia’s direction. “Is there something Miss Bradshaw has neglected to do?”

“No, quite the contrary,” J.D. replied, pointing to the complex scaffolding embracing the Fairmont Hotel. “It’s something I’d like to ask of
you
, Miss Morgan.”

For once, even Julia appeared disconcerted. She pressed a forefinger against her right ear as if it continually pained her and invited Thayer to move their discussion to the office shed a few yards from where they were standing. He ordered Barbary back into his motorcar, and the dog complied reluctantly.

Ira Hoover watched their retreating backs and turned to Amelia.

“What do you suppose is going on?”

Amelia shook her head, mystified as he was.

“I have absolutely no idea,” adding under her breath, “but it can’t be good.”

An hour later, when J.D. had driven away from the Fairmont, Julia stood at the door of the work shed and beckoned Amelia to take a seat inside at one of two drafting tables squeezed into the small space. The one-room office also featured a narrow cot and a potbellied stove, cold now in August, though Amelia wouldn’t have minded a bit of warmth on this chilly foggy afternoon.

“Mr. Thayer wishes to demote his site supervisor to foreman and have you take over.”

“Good heavens!”

“I explained to him your inexperience and assured him that, now the scaffolding was completed here, I would be able to adequately oversee his operation as well.”

Amelia nodded, though her mind was spinning. “Yes. Yes, of course. Frankly, he’s a bit mental about the notion of the Fairmont’s reconstruction getting ahead of his own.”

“Has he discussed this with you?” Julia asked sharply.

Amelia knew instantly they were treading in dangerous waters.

“Not in so many words,” she said carefully. “I merely got that idea, just from a few remarks he’s made when I delivered the drawings and various notes you’d sent over there.”

“I would greatly appreciate it, Amelia, if, henceforth, you would promptly report all such ‘remarks’ directly to
me
. I thought I’d already made that quite clear
.
”

Amelia sat back in her chair, quite at a loss for words. Finally, she asked, “So, I assume you told Mr. Thayer you don’t think I’m qualified to be his site supervisor?”

“Regardless of what I say, he apparently prefers you in that role, and that being the case, I could only acquiesce. He says your knowledge of the former Bay View Hotel makes you invaluable when it comes to building the new hotel as quickly as possible.”

“Julia, I had no idea he would…” Amelia’s voice trailed off as her employer eyed her steadily.

“Nevertheless, I will expect anyone who works for me to keep me informed on the substance of all conversations they have with my clients outside my presence. And in your case, as regards to Mr. Thayer, that seems especially relevant.”

“Excuse me?”

What was Julia insinuating? That she had some sort of special relationship with J.D. Thayer? The man who had taken such advantage of her father’s weaknesses?

Amelia rose from her chair, acutely aware she couldn’t afford to lose her place with the Morgan firm. “As you wish, Miss Morgan,” she said stiffly. “I will report every word. But perhaps it would be best for all concerned if you’d assign Ira to work principally with Mr. Thayer. You may remember I sued the man in court and sometimes I fear this is putting me in a rather awkward situation.”

“It is not I who has created this situation,” she replied tartly. “Mr. Thayer insisted you be assigned to this task—which is why I’ve asked you to be forthright as to any special relationship that may exist between you two.”

“What kind of ‘special relationship’ would I possibly have with a man whose associations with my late father have caused me so much grief, including the loss of my property and inheritance?” Amelia replied, barely keeping hold of her temper. “I am merely your agent, assigned by you to help your firm complete its commission to rebuild Thayer’s damnable hotel!”

“And build it, you will—under
my
complete direction.”

Julia Morgan was as tough as any man, Amelia thought. She wanted things to be her way—or no way at all.

Well, that’s probably why she’s succeeded where no other woman ever has…

“Yes, Miss Morgan,” Amelia replied at length, utterly drained of energy from this exchange and wondering why her friend Julia had somehow become her adversary.

***

With routine safety procedures firmly in place, restoration work at the Fairmont began in earnest, as did putting the finishing touches on the framing at the Bay View. Amelia took note of the way Julia checked deliveries thoroughly to be sure they weren’t receiving inferior or undercounted goods—which was a serious problem at building sites throughout the city.

One morning near the end of the summer, Amelia emerged from her basement sleeping quarters on her way to the Bay View and saw a man in an ill-fitting suit lounging at the spot where the wagons arrived on Mason Street.

“May I help you, sir?” Amelia inquired as she arrived at the site.

“Who are you?” he demanded with a faint leer.

“An architect from the Morgan firm. Are you looking for work, by chance? I’m afraid we have all the—”

“I work for the mayor,” he said with undisguised insolence.

Amelia stiffened. It was no secret that His Honor and Abe Reuf often sent their minions out to constructions sites to shake down owners for money in order to avoid “labor troubles” or delays with the permit process downtown. The hapless employer would agree to pay in advance for an additional complement of workers who then never turned up. Amelia had no intention of falling for this ploy.

“Well, you can certainly report to Mayor Schmitz that we’re making excellent progress here at the Fairmont.”

The man scanned an enormous pile of rubble being loaded onto a flatbed wagon. “Hard to see it. Think maybe you need more people put on?”

Amelia glanced around, looking for Julia, until she remembered she’d taken the morning ferry to Oakland to catch up on some paperwork at the carriage house office.

She summoned her sunniest smile for the visitor.

“Our workforce and plans have been approved by the Committee on the Reconstruction of San Francisco. And surely, you know of Rudolph Spreckels—that admirable reformer who’s done such a wonderful job recently, keeping the building trades honest—and some of the other worthy gentlemen in that group? Why, even the mayor and Abe Reuf attend the meetings, don’t they?”

“Wouldn’t know ’bout that.”

“Well, that Committee agrees that this project has all the workers we need. But if you’ll just leave your name and an address, I’ll be sure to let Mr. Spreckels or the mayor’s office know, should we require more help.”

Without responding, he turned abruptly and walked down the hill. Amelia watched his retreat, amazed that Schmitz and Reuf had the gall to dispatch one of their heavies to try to extort payoffs from the owners of the Fairmont Hotel, of all places.

Upon Julia’s return, Amelia immediately reported the exchange. Morgan quickly informed Herbert and Hartland Law, who, in turn, had a word with crusader Rudolph Spreckels—and the little man from City Hall was seen no more.

As the weeks passed, the steady banging of hammers and the sight of the Bay View’s landmark turrets appearing against the sky were proof that her crew was making significant progress.

Meanwhile, Julia, dashing up and down the Fairmont’s scaffolding all day to inspect the enormous amount of restoration work under way, was showing increasing signs of fatigue. A spate of dank autumn days had exacerbated Morgan’s ongoing ear infection, a condition that had troubled her since her childhood.

There were other indications that the pressures exerted by J.D. Thayer and the Law brothers on their chief architect were intense. Julia was often testy not only toward Amelia, but Ira Hoover as well.

“The woman’s always right,” Ira muttered at the end of a long day in a rare show of irritation, “but when
I’m
right, she never acknowledges it.”

Amelia understood his frustration only too well. Julia Morgan might be as close to a genius as her staff was ever likely to know, but at times, she could be hell to work for.

***

By late October, the Morgan team commemorated the sixth-month anniversary of the quake by removing the last mountainous pile of charred rubble from the Fairmont’s upper floors, while the Bay View’s framing was now completely enclosed.

Soon after, most of the Fairmont’s steel girders, joists, and beams were in place on floors one through five. Next, damaged sections of reinforced masonry on the interior were repaired up to the fifth floor as well. These milestones prompted everyone at the firm to breathe more easily.

Meanwhile, over at the Bay View, Thayer put all his attention on advancing the construction of the hotel while a mountain of rubble still remained on the site where the Gentlemen’s Gambling Club had once stood.

“We can’t just leave that mess there,” Amelia complained to J.D. “It’s become a definite hazard to the workers and scavengers who climb over it at night, looking for anything of value. It’s also blocking access to the big underground safe and the cistern.”

“Well, if you can find some laborers to remove that mess, be my guest.”

“Can’t your Mr. Kemp corral some Chinese workers for the job? They desperately need employment, you know.”

J.D. shot her an odd look, but made no further comment.

When Amelia repeated the gist of the conversation, Julia remarked dryly, “It would seem that even Ezra Kemp dare not employ Chinese workers, or the white carpenters will walk off the job.”

Following this pronouncement, a paroxysm of sneezes overtook her and Amelia hastened to brew her employer a cup of hot tea.

One chilly morning in early November when Amelia walked to the shed before departing for the Bay View, Julia was huddled in the spartan construction shed with her woolen scarf, per usual, wrapped around her throat and her feet swaddled in a blanket. She was already sipping her perpetual mug of hot tea, looking worn and drawn, her round glasses magnifying the dark circles ringing her eyes. Amelia guessed that the poor soul probably wanted nothing more than a month in her own bed.

“Ears bothering you again?” she asked sympathetically.

Before Julia could answer she was seized by another fit of sneezing. When it subsided, she heaved a sigh. “I shall be seriously ill if I don’t get more sleep and have a few meals cooked by someone other than myself. I haven’t done the billing in two weeks.” She pressed her forefingers on the base of both her ears to ease the pain. “Amelia, would you consider taking complete charge of the Bay View for a few days while Ira oversees everything at the Fairmont? I must try to shake this infection.”

Julia looked small and frail, her voice taking on the uncharacteristic tone of a supplicant.
She must be very ill indeed,
thought Amelia.

“Of course I would,” she assured her with genuine concern. For her own part, her heart leapt at the idea that she would serve as de facto architect-and-builder-in-charge, since J.D. constantly depended on her to double-check the invoices with him as supplies were delivered and ride herd on his unreliable workers. Perhaps this situation offered her the perfect opportunity to show Julia her professionalism and thus earn her respect. “I’m honored you’d ask me to.”

“I’m having a telephone installed in the basement here at the Fairmont and expect you to call me each evening and keep me informed about every detail. I am placing a lot of responsibility on your shoulders, Amelia,” she said, sounding worried. “Are you sure you’re willing to be accountable as a principal member of the firm until I return?”

“Yes, of course I am.” The truth was, she was performing many of those duties already—and reporting every move she made to her exacting employer.

“I’ll speak to my clients today.” Julia stifled a cough with the end of her woolen scarf. “Just remember, you and Ira are to check with me whenever you have a question or a problem, understood?”

“Understood.”

An hour later, Amelia was called into the shed, just as Ira was leaving.

“I’ve already spoken with Mr. Thayer,” Julia announced. “He is amenable to putting you in full charge in my absence. I assured both the Laws and him that I will be available by telephone whenever needed.” Julia regarded her steadily. “Remember, Amelia, you and Ira are merely placeholders. All decisions are to be made by
me.
Ira understands this, but are you quite clear on this point?”

“Of course. Yours is the final word on everything.”

“And try not to let the charming Mr. Thayer or his friend, Dr. McClure, distract you.”

Amelia attempted to mask her annoyance at Julia’s line of admonishment. Rather than point out that Angus McClure had stopped by exactly twice in recent weeks and Thayer now slept under his own, drafty roof, she determined her best course was to tactfully change the subject.