Junior

When Arthur Schlesinger Jr. died a while back, I found out from his obit (a full page in the New York Times) that he wasn’t a "junior" at all. He had changed his middle name as a young man to that of his father, a distinguished historian. Pursuing the history racket himself, young Arthur made sure he had a leg up, which he needed, because he had quite short legs.

I know this because I used to share an elevator with Junior from time to time, since he taught at the graduate school I attended. Although "taught" might be too strong a word. I was never aware of any course he actually offered. I imagined the school paid him a six-figure salary just to pad around, greet visiting dignitaries, and wander out in the afternoon for a few drinks at the Century Club, one block away. I could be wrong.

I did have one more intimate encounter with Junior, in the drug store right next to the school. It was a wonderfully cheesy place, more like a dollar store, although you could, if you were foolhardy, have a prescription filled there.

It was a few days before Christmas and Art was in the store buying gifts. Yes, at the drug store where the cat food tins were dented and the pharmacist actually smoked at the counter. Art was loading up on cheap perfume and body wash combos, on Old Spice and three bars of lavender soap for two bucks. And he was having them gift wrapped, in a sad drugstore paper with silver diagonal stripes.

You should know that my graduate school was located right off Fifth Avenue in Midtown Manhattan. Lord and Taylor’s was nearby, as were any number of fine stores. I went back upstairs to my friends, starving doctoral students all, and said you won’t believe the shit I just saw Arthur Schlesinger buying. It must be Christmas gifts for the help at Hyannis Port. How pathetic.

And I was right. I left the building a few hours later, and there was Arthur, sitting out front like an elderly child in his topcoat, muffler and gloves, with a drugstore shopping bag of cheap gifts at his side. Waiting for the limo. And then it arrived.