I finished work late that night, I went home, exhausted, and got into a hot bath.
Just as I was relaxing, Otto hurried into the bathroom. ‘There’s a telephone call for you.’
At this hour? ‘Who is it?’
‘He says his name is Phil Levant.’
I leaped out of the tub, grabbed a towel and hurried to the telephone.
‘Mr. Levant?’
‘Sheldon, there’s a publisher here from Harms Music Company. They heard your song over the air, in New York. They want to publish it.’
I almost dropped the phone.
‘Can you come down here right away? He’s waiting for you.’
‘I’m on my way.’ I dried myself off and hurriedly got dressed again. I grabbed a copy of the sheet music.
‘What’s going on?’ Otto asked.
I explained it to him. ‘Can I borrow the car?’
‘Certainly.’ He handed me the keys. ‘Be careful.’
I hurried downstairs, got into the car and headed for the Outer Drive, on my way to the Bismarck Hotel. My mind was racing with the excitement of having my first song published, when I heard a siren behind me, and saw a flashing red light. As I pulled over to the side of the road, a policeman got off his motorcycle and came up to the car.
‘What’s your rush?’
‘I didn’t know I was speeding, Officer. I’m on my way to meet a music publisher at the Bismarck Hotel. I work there, in the checkroom. Someone wants to publish my song and I—’
‘Driver’s license?’
I showed him my license. He put it in his pocket. ‘Okay. Follow me.’
I was staring at him. ‘Follow you where? Just give me a ticket. I’m in a big—’
‘There’s a new procedure,’ he said. ‘We’re not giving out tickets anymore. We’re taking offenders right to the station.’
My heart sank. ‘Officer, I have to go to this meeting. If you could just give me a ticket, I’d be glad to—’
‘I said follow me.’
I had no choice.
He started up his motorcycle and took off ahead of me. I followed him. Instead of meeting my new publisher, I was on my way to a police station.
I reached the next corner just as the light changed from amber to red. He went through it. I stopped, waiting for it to turn green again. When I started to go, the motorcycle policeman was nowhere in sight. I went slowly to make sure that he didn’t think I was trying to lose him. The farther I got, the more optimistic I became. He was gone. He had forgotten about me. He was looking for someone else to send to jail. I began to speed up again and headed for the Bismarck.
I parked the car in the garage and hurried to the checkroom. I could not believe what I saw. The policeman was inside, waiting for me, and he was furious. ‘You thought you could get away from me, huh?’
I was bewildered. ‘I wasn’t trying to get away from you. I gave you my driver’s license and I told you I was coming here, and—’
‘All right,’ he said. ‘You’re here. Now we’re going to the station.’
I was desperate. ‘Let me call my father.’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve wasted enough—’
‘It will only take a second.’
‘Go ahead. But make it brief.’
I dialed my home number.
Otto answered. ‘Hello.’
‘Otto—’
‘How did it go?’
‘I’m on my way to the police station.’ I explained the situation to him.
Otto said, ‘Let me talk to the officer.’
I held the phone out to the policeman. ‘My father wants to talk to you.’
He reluctantly took the phone. ‘Yes…No, I haven’t time to listen. I’m taking your son to the station…What?…Oh, really?…That’s interesting. I know what you mean…As a matter of fact, I do…I have a brother-in-law who needs a job…Really? Let me write that down.’ He took out a pen and a pad and began to write. ‘That’s very nice of you, Mr. Sheldon. I’ll send him around in the morning.’ He glanced at me. ‘And don’t worry about your son.’
I was listening to this conversation, openmouthed. The officer replaced the receiver, handed me my driver’s license and said, ‘Don’t let me catch you speeding again.’
I watched him leave.
I said to the hatcheck girl, ‘Where’s Phil Levant?’
‘He’s conducting the orchestra,’ she said, ‘but someone is waiting to see you in the manager’s office.’
In the manager’s office I found a dapper, well-dressed man who appeared to be in his fifties.
As I walked in, he said, ‘So, this is the Boy Wonder. My name is Brent. I’m with TB Harms.’
TB Harms was one of the biggest music publishers in the world. ‘They heard your song in New York,’ he told me, ‘and they’d like to publish it.’
My heart was singing.
He hesitated. ‘There’s just one problem.’
‘What’s that?’
‘They don’t think Phil Levant is a big enough name to introduce your song. They’d like someone more important to give it a real send-off.’
My heart sank. I did not know anyone more important.
‘Horace Heidt is playing at the Drake Hotel,’ Brent said. ‘Maybe you could go talk to him and show him your song.’ Horace Heidt was one of the most popular bandleaders in the country.
‘Sure.’
He handed me his card. ‘Have him give me a call.’
‘I will,’ I promised.
I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to twelve. Horace Heidt would still be playing. I got into Otto’s car and drove very slowly to the Drake Hotel. When I arrived, I made my way to the ballroom where Horace Heidt was conducting his orchestra.
As I walked in, the maître d’ asked, ‘Do you have a reservation?’
‘No. I’m here to see Mr. Heidt.’
