Chapter 10: Checking In at Oak Hall
Page 1 of 3
John Campbell stood outside the candy store with the manuscript tucked under his arm. After waiting for fifteen minutes, he finally saw Asimov returning on the back of someone’s bicycle.
“Sorry I’m late.”
The bicycle came to a stop, and Asimov hurriedly climbed off and greeted them apologetically.
“Did we really have to meet at a candy store?” Campbell muttered. It was hardly a complaint. He and Asimov knew each other too well; Campbell understood that Asimov wanted to be present for the discussion between him and the author.
Campbell turned to Enni and smiled faintly. “Hello. You must be Enni, right?”
“Hello, Mr. Campbell.” Enni smiled and shook his hand.
“This manuscript is excellent! Is this really your first science-fiction story?”
“Yes. My first.”
“Newcomers are all monsters these days.”
After expressing his admiration, Campbell led the other two eagerly into the back room of the candy store to discuss the manuscript.
Before they had even settled into their chairs, John Campbell began praising Enni’s novel at length. Enni had barely begun to enjoy the compliments when Asimov was already basking in them even more.
After all, Asimov had recognized at a glance that Enni’s novel was exceptionally good. The more enthusiastically Campbell praised it, the more it proved that Asimov’s taste and judgment had been impeccable.
“I personally like your novel very much, but there are still a few sections that need revision.”
John Campbell went through the portions he believed required changes, focusing mainly on the Japanese physicist.
He did not think there was anything wrong with the character himself, but from a commercial standpoint, the role had to be altered.
That was one form of “castration” imposed by the times.
“No problem!”
Enni agreed readily.
John Campbell was momentarily stunned. He had assumed that dealing with an author as individualistic as Enni would require a fair amount of persuasion.
Instead, Enni was entirely reasonable.
“As long as it gets accepted, I’m willing to change it however you like!”
Yes, the tone and integrity of a work were important—but so was the payment.
Besides, he wrote novels to make money.
“Our magazine cannot match the rates paid by the major literary publications, but we offer the highest rates among science-fiction magazines. The payment is one to three cents per word.”
“You’re a newcomer, but this novel is excellent, so I’m willing to offer you two and a half cents per word. If I go any higher, the president will have something to say about it... In any case, will you accept?”
Campbell was not the sort of businessman who exploited authors without scruple.
Although he believed Enni had tremendous potential and was willing to offer him a generous fee, Campbell was ultimately only the publishing house’s business manager. The final decision still rested with the president of Smith Publishing.
Page 1 of 3
Page 2 of 3
If he offered two and a half cents per word, he would have to argue his case before the president when he returned that day.
“Deal!”
Enni accepted without hesitation. The rate was far better than he had expected.
He had also looked over John Campbell’s proposed revisions. Once revised, the manuscript would be almost the same length as before—roughly twenty-four thousand words.
In other words, he would ultimately receive around six hundred dollars.
That was nearly half a year’s income for an ordinary working-class laborer.
Even after setting aside part of it for taxes, there was no question that this was a fortune.
Once they had settled the payment, John Campbell produced the contract he had brought with him, and he and Enni signed it.
Afterward, Campbell took out a fifty-dollar check and handed it to Enni.
“This is an advance. I’ll mail you the payment statement and the check for the remaining fee when the time comes.”
He paused.
“Should I still send them to Isaac’s address?”
Enni considered it briefly, then smiled.
“Send them to my home.”
Now that he had real money in hand, no one could dismiss him as an eighteen-year-old unemployed loafer who stayed home imagining himself a great writer. There was naturally no need for him to make another trip to the candy store.
“You should start on your next work as soon as possible. For a first novel to be this good, you were born for this.”
“Don’t waste your talent.”
Before leaving, John Campbell patted Enni on the shoulder with complete sincerity.
“I already have an idea for my next work.”
“Good. I look forward to receiving another manuscript from you.”
Naturally. If writing a short story could earn him several hundred dollars, Enni was now overflowing with motivation. He was already developing his next work in his head.
Even if twenty beautiful women invited him out to have fun, he would remain resolute and pick up his pen.
Now that he had received his advance, he naturally had to celebrate properly.
So Enni arranged to go out with Asimov that evening. He would treat him to dinner and a movie.
The moment he pedaled home, Enni grandly announced to Mary and Michi, who happened to be home for the weekend:
“Let’s go shopping at Safeway!”
“Enni, you haven’t done anything illegal, have you?”
“...”
Enni was speechless. He decided not to hide it any longer and told them the truth: he had not been writing résumés and looking for work during this time. He had been writing a novel.
Mary and Michi were both stunned. In all the years they had known him, they had never seen Enni display even the slightest trace of artistic talent.
Still, they were delighted that Enni had become a published author.
Only Michi remained suspicious. Blinking slyly, she asked, “Be honest. Did you go into illegal horse racing?”
“My God, could you use your brain? You need capital even to bet on horse races. Are you really one of the top students in your class?”
After trading insults for a while, the family of three—apart from George, who was still at work—left the house and headed to Safeway.
By the time they returned home around noon, everyone was carrying two large bags of groceries.
Most of it was meat: pork ribs, bacon, ham, luncheon meat, and the like.
Then there were all kinds of vegetables, fruit, eggs, canned goods, and more.
They completely filled the refrigerator.
Fortunately, Mary could turn whatever would not fit into the refrigerator into preserves.
When evening came, Enni called out to Mary before pedaling off to find Asimov.
The two met at the candy store. Enni then carried Asimov on his bicycle to the Plaza Hotel on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.
The hotel was one of the most famous in the United States. It stood across the street from Central Park and faced Grand Army Plaza to the east, which was how it got its name. Ever since opening in 1907, it had been a preferred destination for celebrities and distinguished guests.
The restaurant Enni wanted to visit was the Oak Room inside the Plaza Hotel.
Ever since arriving in this world, he had wanted to dine there.
Not primarily for the food, but to say he had been there.
Because this was the restaurant where the writer Fitzgerald had often dined.
He was, after all, one of America’s most celebrated authors. The Great Gatsby had captivated readers around the world, and the later film adaptation starring Leonardo DiCaprio had received high praise for years.
Enni thought about it for a moment. Fitzgerald should not yet have died from alcoholism.
However, alcohol had already squandered his talent and reduced him to poverty. No one wanted his manuscripts anymore, and Enni had no idea where he was now, living out his days in despondency.
What a pity. That meant Enni would have no chance of running into Fitzgerald by coincidence.
Inside the Oak Room, the décor was extraordinarily elegant, designed in the style of the French Renaissance.
Dark oak relief paneling extended from floor to ceiling, carved with scrolling vines, heraldic shields, and lion heads. Elaborate crystal chandeliers hung from the lofty vaulted ceiling, each one a costly work of art. On the white-clothed tables, gold-trimmed silverware gleamed in the light.
...
Page 3 of 3