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Joc had a reserved section at the Wild West Show, dead center in the front row, just below the dignitaries’ section, with its bar and waiters. He had ten guests including Claude and Dominique, who sat alongside him.
The show featured lots of gun shooting and horse riding. Indians attacked settlers and stagecoaches alike but never won a battle. Bill Cody was always the hero that saved the day, riding in on his white horse with both guns blazing. Joc kept asking with great excitement, “Is that real? Does that happen? Have you ever shot an Indian? Do you know any of the people in the show?”
After the show, they went for dinner and drinks, but Claude and Dominique had to leave early because the smell of the cooking was more than she could deal with. Her morning sickness was entering a new phase.
The next day they had planned to go see the Eiffel Tower and the rest of the Fair, but Dominique still felt ill that morning and asked if he could go alone.
Claude had planned to take a carriage but, as it was only himself, he walked. The morning air was refreshing and the early risers were happy and friendly, each smiling and saying good morning. Passing the wide, open fields of the fenced-in area of the Wild West Show, he paused awhile and watched the buffalo grazing and the horses running or standing around the field. He recognized that he was feeling homesick.
He found himself almost running, until finally coming to the end of a long line of people waiting to obtain tickets. He joined the line and impatiently endured its slow progress. At last, with his five-franc ticket in hand, he headed toward the west leg of the tower, to go to the top. The lifts weren’t working yet and it would be a long climb by stairs. He was thankful Dominique had stayed home.
He stopped on the second level and got a coffee and pastry before making the final push to the top. Tables were placed along the railings, with Paris spread out before them, and they were the best coffee and pastry he had ever eaten.
Refreshed and rested, he started up the stairs once more. At the top and out of breath, he leaned against the rail with others who had made the long climb. A grin spread across his face as he looked out over the great city of Paris. It was a picture-card moment. As far as he could see, there was Paris. He had had no idea the city covered so much land.
Overhearing what sounded like engineers talking, he moved closer to them. One of the men said in French, “If you are interested in our conversation – please join in.”
Claude was somewhat embarrassed at getting caught listening. He spoke with the best French accent he could manage: “My understanding of French is better than my speaking.”
The man clapped his hands together. “Wonderful, an American!”
The other three moved closer, and one of them asked, “What do you think of our Tower?”
Claude smiled. “As a fellow engineer, I must say it is the greatest piece of engineering genius I have ever seen.”
The first man put out his hand. “I’m Rafilo. We helped to build the tower.”
Claude was delighted. “Really, all four of you?”
One of the other men stepped forward with his hand out. “I am Phillip. Welcome to Paris. Where did you study engineering, our new American friend?”
Claude shook his hand and realized he hadn’t told them his name, “I’m Claude Jaudon. I studied engineering at Brown University, in Providence, Rhode Island.”
The other three men laughed and moved back into their circle of conversation. Rafilo, however, took Claude’s arm and led him toward the bar. “Pay no attention to them. They think they are gods now that the tower is a success. We were very lucky building the tower. Even Eiffel had doubts at times. Instead of being grateful, you would think they carried the entire project on their backs.”
Claude picked up the glass of wine Rafilo had ordered for him. “I can understand how proud they are. If I had been a part of this, I guess I’d feel the same as them.”
“Maybe so, but remember this: an engineer who is standing around admiring his work is an unemployed engineer.”
“I’ve done only one project since I got out of University. It was a large irrigation system in Texas. It took over a year to complete and then I came here to France and got married.”
Rafilo became even more interested in the American. “You have married a French girl?”
“Yes, her name is Dominique, and we are expecting a baby in November.”
“I’m leaving in three days to build a railway bridge over a gorge in southern France. I can’t pay much, but the experience will be better than anything you learned at the University.”
“Wait a minute – are you offering me a job?”
“I’m offering you an adventure.”
“I’ve never built a bridge before. Wouldn’t some of your friends work out better?”
“They’ll be here soaking up the limelight until the fair closes. Besides that, I need someone I can teach, not people I have to debate with. Nobody has built a bridge until the first one they build one – this one could be yours. A great engineer, Ferdinand Arnodin, started the project, but a strong wind knocked the two pillars down before it was halfway complete. They have offered me the job of bringing the bridge back to life.”
The next day Claude and Dominique both met Rafilo at the café down from the apartment, and there they sealed the deal. Two days later Rafilo left for Chermont-Ferrand to get the crew together, and Claude and Dominique followed him three days after that.
It was a two-year contract, which meant that their child would be born in France and would be over a year old by the time it set foot on American soil. Claude saw the advantage of that.
| Copyright © 2019 by Ed Rogers |
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