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bootstrapping. The Irish
Emigrant Society, for example, during the nineteenth century, began as what we
call today a
'microlender,' and grew to become Emigrant Bank. That was why we were
interested in this
Luchorpán
Ltd
. It seemed poised for the same sort of growth."
"In my day," Witherwax said, "banks had real names. 'First National Bank.'
'Security Trust.' What do you see now? 'Rock Bank.' 'Fleet Bank.' Do they keep
stones in their vaults? Do they loan only to sailors?"
"It's all marketing nowadays," said Mr. Gross.
Mrs. Jonas waved her hand in the air. "You're not letting Mr. Newbury talk."
The banker smiled his thanks at her. "Esau Drexel that's my president asked me
to look into matters personally. Harrison Trust is an old-fashioned firm, and
we believe in the personal touch. There is only so much you can learn from
paperwork, regulatory filings, and web searches. He wanted me to form an
impression of the people who ran this bank, to see if they were the sort we
could work with.
"I'm used to these sudden trips out of town and Denise my wife has learned to
live with them. I
always keep a small carry-on suitcase packed and ready. The next morning, I
took the early shuttle to
LaGuardia, where the Luchorpán bank manager met me. Conn MacNai was a short
fellow with flaming
red hair the sort of red you really only see in cartoon Irish. I thought him
rather young at first to be in such a position. His skin was very fine and
there was not a trace of gray in his hair not something I can say of myself
any more, I'm afraid. Yet when I looked closer I received the impression that
he was much older than he seemed. His eyes, I think. They had a cast to them
that only age can give.
"Mr. MacNai had reserved a room for me at the Holiday Inn and he took me there
first, so I could drop off my valise. He drove a compact car, an Escort I
think, and it was no fun for me to fold myself into it.
Fortunately, the bank was not too far from the hotel and the trip was a short
one.
"When we pulled into the lot, I noticed several children clustered around the
ATM, but when they saw us, they ran. I noticed some graffiti on the machine
and asked MacNai if he ever had trouble with the local gangs, but he said no."
Mr. Cohan nodded. "I know the neighborhood."
"Well, MacNai showed me around the place. It was quite small and tidy, if you
know what I mean. A
teller line. One or two desks for loan officers. A room for confidential
meetings. What surprised me was the vault for the safe deposit boxes, which
was quite extensive larger, I thought, than the size of the bank warranted. I
said so to MacNai, but he told me that many of their depositors, being from
the old country, like to keep their valuables in a secure place." Newbury
lifted his club soda and sipped from it thoughtfully.
"There was one odd detail," he said when he set it down again. "The builder
had managed some trick with the windows. They were leaded in some queer way
and, though you wouldn't know it to look at them, they acted like prisms, so
that the light inside the bank was split into colors as if by stained glass.
"While I was studying the windows trying to see how it was done I used to work
summers for a contractor when I was young I saw a young boy walk up to the
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ATM, which was just outside and, when he tried his card and had apparently
gotten nothing back, he spat on the cash slot."
"I've felt like doing that myself sometimes," Gross said.
"It's the human touch," Witherwax announced from the table. "That's what's
missing in this day and age.
When the machines misfunction, there's no one about to speak to."
"The young man," said Newbury, "turned as if he were going to stalk into the
bank and make an issue of it, but he saw me looking and gave me such a glare
of hatred and suspicion that it quite startled me and I
took a step back. Because of that trick with the leaded glass, it seemed to me
as if his eyes were as red as his hair.
"MacNai was standing there with me, explaining some arrangement with messenger
tubes for drive-up banking, but when he saw what had happened, he took me by
the elbow and led me away from the window. For the next minute or so, I kept
craning my neck to see if the young hoodlum would come into the bank, for it
seemed as if he had taken an instant dislike to me. But he never showed, so I
thought I
had been mistaken."
Witherwax shook his head. "What's the world coming to?" he asked. "These kids
today, they don't show any respect. Mr. Co han
, another boilermaker, if you please."
"It's not something you should normally worry about," the bartender assured
the banker as he handled the bottles and jigger glass without looking. "Those
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