CHAPTER 10
CHOCK FULL O' NUTS
Franklin stopped walking, “You don’t say! The very same document?”
“Yes indeed. In fact, the original is on permanent display in the National Archives Building.”
“Why, this news alone is enough to make me thankful that God has seen fit to transfer me from my life and times to these.”
Franklin then added, “And now it seems that I have become a particular case in point, when it comes to the protection of liberties.”
“True, there is no one in quite your position.”
“Moreover, I owe it to the recent decisions vis-à-vis incarceration of the mentally ill that I have not been, on sight, removed from these streets.”
“You might be a trifle more generous there. If I have given you the impression that the streets were actively swept of in-costume pretenders, then I owe you an apology.”
“You have not and you do not – ‘pretenders’ if you will, were not uniformly ‘swept from the streets’ even in my times. I was reasoning that, as in the few conversations that have occurred in the course of our journey today, the mere act of giving my own name begins a sequence that might end with the conclusion that I present a public danger. At the very least, my own name precludes entrance to most private buildings in this age.”
“Ah yes, I see that now. It is true that, if we wind the clock back, say, fifty years, we would have to take much more care not to provoke suspicion. At the very least, I would have had to suggest to you that an alias be used in speaking with strangers … and that you change your clothes,” he added, looking down at Franklin’s sparkling white stockings.
At this moment in their walk along Barclay Street toward Broadway, a crowd had developed around a side entrance to the Woolworth Building at a point where a donut vendor’s stand narrowed the sidewalk, so Edward offered an arm to Franklin.
But the other said, “You know, it must be all this excitement, but I find myself suddenly famished. I had not eaten when I was so suddenly whisked from my house this morning.”
Edward said, “This food is a baked product, basically a small cake.”
“Yes, and coffee. Such breakfast fare became my custom in France.”
Eyeing the crowd around the vendor, Edward pointed beyond the building entrance, to the Chock-Full-O-Nuts shop and, even though he would never have set foot in the place if left to his own devices, said, “We can get the same in there and have a place to sit.”
Franklin took his arm, and they were soon seated at the counter. Fast food with Ben Franklin: it might seem a contradiction in terms – certainly a visual contradiction, the swivel stool clashing with his garb – but the important thing was to do what he could to provide some comfort for the other. To do otherwise would be an unnecessary additional strain on the Franklin equanimity, which must certainly be undergoing quite a test already. In any event, Franklin, as usual, adapted rapidly. Edward heard him muttering to himself, “The place is marvelously clean.”
“How’s the twentieth-century coffee?”
“I find it quite pleasing for an establishment that I take to be of rather ordinary pretensions,” replied Franklin, turning his head to look down the counter at their fellow coffee-sippers, who numbered just four.
Speaking quietly, Franklin offered still another interesting observation. “I was just now observing the others here at the counter, and they all appear to be of foreign extraction. Is this a reflection of an active foreign commerce?”
“No, their presence does not reflect that, though the tonnage of foreign commerce through the Port of New York and New Jersey is in fact at an all-time high. Rather, they live here and in all probability, are your fellow citizens.”
Hearing this, Franklin, who had, upon their arrival, immediately discovered that the stools would rotate (directly making several experimental turns back and forth while peering intently downward), now turned all the way round to look out the plate-glass windows.
“Remarkable, the size of these glass plates,” he said.
“Yes, more technological improvements,” agreed Edward.
“But the streets are full of citizens of what I called ‘foreign extraction,’ though that term was, I see now, a poor choice.”
“Here in the central city, yes, though the country as a whole remains approximately eighty percent of European extraction.”
Franklin stared silently a moment longer, then pursed his lips and turned back to the counter.
When he had taken another sip from his cup, Edward asked, “Is there something that troubles you?”
“Yes, but it is not of this time. It is that I regret so the things we had to do at the Convention in order to get a document that would keep Virginia and the others.”
“Slavery, you mean, though the term somehow never made it into the document.”
“Bit clever that, wouldn’t you say?”
“What if you had let them go their own way?”
“Then we would not have had a Union.”
“They could have joined later.”
“What good in that? We would still have had to tear the heart out of the law.”
“On their own, as a slave state, they would have slowly been isolated. Even in your time, the British had interdicted the slave trade.”
“The British and the rest of Europe care not the least for the origins of the raw materials they purchase. If they did, by the way, they would have had the devil of a time purchasing anything, the way slavery was used throughout the Americas – and the East for that matter.”
“Yes, that is a very telling point, and, in a way, still true today. I suppose it forces me to play my trump card. But before I do, I would ask whether there wasn’t something even more fundamental at stake. The Constitution has been described as ‘a bundle of compromises.’ Historians chose that characterization specifically to dispel thoughts that it is an embodiment of ideals. The message is, ‘No, it is in fact a very practical document.’ But that idea can only be stretched so far. You could not compromise away the democratic process and institute fealty to a monarchy. And I say that your colleagues went too far in compromising away the democratic process entirely for a certain segment of the population of ‘foreign extraction.’ Furthermore, where there is too much compromise, there are sown the seeds of future discontent and friction. And that brings me to my trump card: less than a hundred years after the Convention, friction had grown to the point where it flashed out into war, the single greatest conflict in the history of the nation.”
Franklin stopped walking, “You don’t say! The very same document?”
“Yes indeed. In fact, the original is on permanent display in the National Archives Building.”
“Why, this news alone is enough to make me thankful that God has seen fit to transfer me from my life and times to these.”
Franklin then added, “And now it seems that I have become a particular case in point, when it comes to the protection of liberties.”
“True, there is no one in quite your position.”
“Moreover, I owe it to the recent decisions vis-à-vis incarceration of the mentally ill that I have not been, on sight, removed from these streets.”
“You might be a trifle more generous there. If I have given you the impression that the streets were actively swept of in-costume pretenders, then I owe you an apology.”
“You have not and you do not – ‘pretenders’ if you will, were not uniformly ‘swept from the streets’ even in my times. I was reasoning that, as in the few conversations that have occurred in the course of our journey today, the mere act of giving my own name begins a sequence that might end with the conclusion that I present a public danger. At the very least, my own name precludes entrance to most private buildings in this age.”
“Ah yes, I see that now. It is true that, if we wind the clock back, say, fifty years, we would have to take much more care not to provoke suspicion. At the very least, I would have had to suggest to you that an alias be used in speaking with strangers … and that you change your clothes,” he added, looking down at Franklin’s sparkling white stockings.
At this moment in their walk along Barclay Street toward Broadway, a crowd had developed around a side entrance to the Woolworth Building at a point where a donut vendor’s stand narrowed the sidewalk, so Edward offered an arm to Franklin.
But the other said, “You know, it must be all this excitement, but I find myself suddenly famished. I had not eaten when I was so suddenly whisked from my house this morning.”
Edward said, “This food is a baked product, basically a small cake.”
“Yes, and coffee. Such breakfast fare became my custom in France.”
Eyeing the crowd around the vendor, Edward pointed beyond the building entrance, to the Chock-Full-O-Nuts shop and, even though he would never have set foot in the place if left to his own devices, said, “We can get the same in there and have a place to sit.”
Franklin took his arm, and they were soon seated at the counter. Fast food with Ben Franklin: it might seem a contradiction in terms – certainly a visual contradiction, the swivel stool clashing with his garb – but the important thing was to do what he could to provide some comfort for the other. To do otherwise would be an unnecessary additional strain on the Franklin equanimity, which must certainly be undergoing quite a test already. In any event, Franklin, as usual, adapted rapidly. Edward heard him muttering to himself, “The place is marvelously clean.”
“How’s the twentieth-century coffee?”
“I find it quite pleasing for an establishment that I take to be of rather ordinary pretensions,” replied Franklin, turning his head to look down the counter at their fellow coffee-sippers, who numbered just four.
Speaking quietly, Franklin offered still another interesting observation. “I was just now observing the others here at the counter, and they all appear to be of foreign extraction. Is this a reflection of an active foreign commerce?”
“No, their presence does not reflect that, though the tonnage of foreign commerce through the Port of New York and New Jersey is in fact at an all-time high. Rather, they live here and in all probability, are your fellow citizens.”
Hearing this, Franklin, who had, upon their arrival, immediately discovered that the stools would rotate (directly making several experimental turns back and forth while peering intently downward), now turned all the way round to look out the plate-glass windows.
“Remarkable, the size of these glass plates,” he said.
“Yes, more technological improvements,” agreed Edward.
“But the streets are full of citizens of what I called ‘foreign extraction,’ though that term was, I see now, a poor choice.”
“Here in the central city, yes, though the country as a whole remains approximately eighty percent of European extraction.”
Franklin stared silently a moment longer, then pursed his lips and turned back to the counter.
When he had taken another sip from his cup, Edward asked, “Is there something that troubles you?”
“Yes, but it is not of this time. It is that I regret so the things we had to do at the Convention in order to get a document that would keep Virginia and the others.”
“Slavery, you mean, though the term somehow never made it into the document.”
“Bit clever that, wouldn’t you say?”
“What if you had let them go their own way?”
“Then we would not have had a Union.”
“They could have joined later.”
“What good in that? We would still have had to tear the heart out of the law.”
“On their own, as a slave state, they would have slowly been isolated. Even in your time, the British had interdicted the slave trade.”
“The British and the rest of Europe care not the least for the origins of the raw materials they purchase. If they did, by the way, they would have had the devil of a time purchasing anything, the way slavery was used throughout the Americas – and the East for that matter.”
“Yes, that is a very telling point, and, in a way, still true today. I suppose it forces me to play my trump card. But before I do, I would ask whether there wasn’t something even more fundamental at stake. The Constitution has been described as ‘a bundle of compromises.’ Historians chose that characterization specifically to dispel thoughts that it is an embodiment of ideals. The message is, ‘No, it is in fact a very practical document.’ But that idea can only be stretched so far. You could not compromise away the democratic process and institute fealty to a monarchy. And I say that your colleagues went too far in compromising away the democratic process entirely for a certain segment of the population of ‘foreign extraction.’ Furthermore, where there is too much compromise, there are sown the seeds of future discontent and friction. And that brings me to my trump card: less than a hundred years after the Convention, friction had grown to the point where it flashed out into war, the single greatest conflict in the history of the nation.”
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