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Overview
Sture Jorgenson’s rise from a dishwasher to part-owner of a trendy restaurant has him rubbing elbows with many powerful people, but when Sture gains entrée into The Pride, he becomes part of a coterie of New York’s most accomplished black men and women. Paul Taylor, Sture’s business partner, is a charter member of The Pride. Accustomed to the good life, complete with a luxurious townhouse, fine wine, and fine women, Paul learns that even the good life has its complications. Diedre Douglas, Paul’s brilliant ex-wife, is on top in the business world, but there’s a new challenge around the corner she might not be able to best. And fellow Pride member Gordon Perkins is Wall Street’s top black investment banker, a man whose brilliance and drive are exceeded only by his insatiable appetite for control and cruelty. Those who get close to him get hurt—with one notable exception…
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781496726575 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Kensington |
| Publication date: | 11/27/2018 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 480 |
| File size: | 4 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Sture
My name is not Ishmael
Every story has to start somewhere, and mine starts the first time that I saw New York City. My name is Sture (pronounced "Stude" as in "Studebaker") Jorgenson, and I am from Bergen, Norway, a small town not too far from Oslo. Until I came to New York City, Oslo was the biggest city that I had ever seen.
There is only one serious high-rise in Oslo, and from the observation deck of this hotel/office building you can see the harbor, you can see the Eggar Bryge, which is the Norwegian version of the South Street Seaport. You can see the incredible Viegeland Park statuary garden that, if not one of the seven wonders, is certainly one of the seventy wonders of the world. At night there is a small coverlet of lights that modestly covers Oslo from the hills to the sea. And then there is New York City.
The first time that I saw New York at night, it seemed as if the sky and earth had changed places and that the stars and all of the lights of the heavens were at my feet. The lights, the lights, and the lights — the incredible, passionate embrace of electricity and luminescence — when seen from above resembled nothing so much as an infinite array of constellations designed by the unfettered genius of an unseen hand.
At least that's what I remember thinking as I looked out of the window of an SAS jet coming into Kennedy Airport more than a dozen years ago. The lights were something more than a spectacle, however. To me they were an invitation to imagine the possibilities of my own dreams coming true.
I also found myself trying to imagine all of the millions upon millions of stories that were unfolding that very moment, even as the plane was coming in for a landing. If Oslo's nightlights were a shining coverlet, then New York City's made up a huge, multicolored duvet of gleaming possibilities and endless dreams.
Even though I had lived my entire life in Norway up to that point, I could not help but be aware of the "eight million stories that could be found in the Naked City." I had seen so many American movies I felt as if I had been to New York a hundred times prior to this, my first visit. But no book, no movie, no television show, no magazine, nothing prepared me for the sheer wonder of the reality that is New York City.
After the lights, after the spectacular spectacle that is visual New York City, after all of that, there is the city itself. And there are the people of the city. My first impression was that of being on a carousel while witnessing a bizarre bazaar of the greatest urban gathering in history, a gathering that resembled a psychedelic kaleidoscope.
As a visitor, I could take in the view or I could stay on board the carousel. I chose to get on board, and I had no idea of how much my life would change from that day onward. And I had no idea about how much I didn't know when it came to the people of New York City.
CHAPTER 2Sture
Living for the City
As I made my way through customs and immigration at Kennedy on my first day in America, I had no idea that a dozen years later I would be the manager and part owner of Dorothy's By the Sea, a most popular restaurant on the western shores of Manhattan. Dorothy's — a restaurant overlooking the Hudson River, named after the great and tragic black movie star, Dorothy Dandridge.
I am fascinated that my partners felt that she symbolized all that should not be forgotten about blacks in America — spectacular possibility bound up in the limited universe of a constricted reality. And on that day at Kennedy Airport, I never dreamed that as the manager of that restaurant I would be a partner of some of the most prominent members of The Pride.
Many people are not familiar with the term "The Pride." I have heard it used in private gatherings and not so public conversations. My partners introduced me to the term and I have been told that it refers to a relatively select group of black professionals in New York City and elsewhere in the United States — African-American men and women who make their living as investment bankers, lawyers, entrepreneurs, and corporate executives. Many of them are graduates of some of the finest universities and colleges in America and all of them are impeccable professionals.
As an immigrant from Norway with limited dreams and even more limited skills, there is no way that I expected to learn anything about The Pride — I didn't even know of their existence. And, as I have come to learn, most white Americans that I have met know nothing about this fascinating group of men and women. And that is one more thing I find to be so maddening and interesting and wonderful about America — anything is possible.
Of course, when I settled in on the convertible sofa in the living room of my sister Ilse's apartment in Queens later that day, I had no way of knowing that I had begun an adventure that would teach me about the restaurant business, the American criminal justice system, and, of course, The Pride. All I wanted was sleep to wash the jet lag off me so that I could wake up and begin the greatest adventure any young man from Bergen, Norway, could possibly hope for.
I spent my first few days craning my neck in wonder, gazing at the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building and the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center and Rockefeller Center and Radio City Music Hall. I made an effort to see every tourist site and all the sights that I could find.
After a few days, however, Ilse made it very clear that, brother or no brother, if I wanted to be able to keep craning my neck every now and then, I needed to find a job. That was the only way I could maintain my legal immigrant status and my temporary residence on the convertible couch in her living room. Having a very modest educational background, and discovering that my knowledge of Norwegian history had limited value in the job market, I looked for and found a job that fitted one of the few skills that I had that was in demand in New York City in the 1980s — washing dishes in restaurants.
I worked in short order diners, hotels, and restaurants featuring every kind of cuisine imaginable: Turkish, Slovenian, French, Egyptian, Brazilian, Ethiopian, Italian, South African, Colombian, Ghanaian, and Guatemalan. After a while, all scraps and leavings truly did look alike. And then, by chance or fate, I got a job working at the world famous Water Club.
Located on the banks of the East River and not too far south of the United Nations, the Water Club is built on floating piers that abut the East River Drive. It is, in effect, a huge barge tethered to the edge of Manhattan. The Water Club gently floats on the multidirectional currents of the East River, offering spectacular views of New York's waterways, bridges, floating traffic and the East Side skyline. All of this is combined with great food, an exquisite wine list, and good service. The combination has made the Water Club one of the most popular and successful restaurants in the United States. Indeed, in operating Dorothy's, I always have looked at the Water Club as the standard that we seek to emulate.
One thing I knew from the time I got off the SAS jet at Kennedy Airport was that even though my sister Ilse loved me dearly, there was no one who was going to support Sture Jorgenson except Sture Jorgenson. So I used the one talent that I had discovered when I had my first job in Norway — I can work very hard.
And I worked very hard at the Water Club. I washed dishes on double shifts, weekends, holidays. I washed dishes when other dishwashers wanted the night off. After a while I became friendly with some of the waiters.
One evening, one of my new waiter friends called me over and, barely containing his excitement, told me of his great good fortune in securing a date with a double-jointed contortionist from Belarus who worked at the Barnum and Bailey Circus. The circus was leaving town in two days and she had the night off. My newfound best friend begged me to substitute for him.
I was only too happy to get out of the kitchen and see the Water Club itself. I couldn't wait to see the rich and famous of New York City and the world dining under the stars that shone through the skylight over the main dining area. It certainly didn't matter to me that the cacophony and madness that is any New York City restaurant on a Friday night made the place seem like Bedlam with good food. On that Friday night, as I served wine to actresses and appetizers to Wall Street wizards and entrées to CEOs and desserts to supermodels, I finally felt that I had arrived in New York City. And now I was sure that I never wanted to leave.
CHAPTER 3Sture
Now introducing ...
I remember the end of that evening. When the last guests had been served and all the tables had been cleaned and set for Saturday's brunch service, I sat in the now dimly lit dining room sipping some Felipe II brandy, and simply inhaled the wonderful, sentient experience of finally being where I wanted to be. The pianist in the bar just off the dining room was playing George Shearing's "Someone to Watch Over Me" in a haunting, yet lilting style, and the million billion lights of Manhattan reflected off the waters of the river. Off in the distance I could even make out the microdots of lights that were jumbo jets circling Kennedy Airport, bringing more dreamers like me to America at that late hour.
It was at this moment that I had my own personal revelation, an epiphany of sorts. The outline of my personal dream came to me. If I could have anything in this wonderful world amidst this explosion of humanity , I would have a restaurant like this. I would serve fine food and great wine and mingle with the best of the best in the world. I would bathe in the reflected starlight of my guests and friends and patrons and be more than happy. I would be fulfilled. At that point all I knew about the restaurant business was how to wash dishes, but one night in an actual restaurant told me that my dream was the right one for me.
And it was at that point the owner of the Water Club, Buzzy O'Keefe, happened to come by, checking on his restaurant before closing up for the night. I later came to know Buzzy as a very smart businessman, who was able to build a successful restaurant based on his ability to understand people. That particular night he seemed to be able to read my mind, almost seeing my dreams as if they were being broadcast on a wide-screen television. I have never found out if he had the same dreams once upon a time.
Buzzy noticed me in my late night, after work reverie and told me that he had been watching me and that he liked my work. He offered me a full-time waiter's position and I accepted it in a heartbeat, afraid that he might change his mind before my dream started to come true and I wound up waking in the darkness of disappointment. And that turned out to be my true beginning in the restaurant business.
I didn't learn how to be a good waiter. I learned how to be a great waiter. I also learned how to be a great wine steward and a great maître d'. Our guests have to decide for themselves whether I have become a great restaurateur when they visit Dorothy's, just south of the Chelsea Piers and north of the World Financial Center, on the west side of Manhattan.
During the next decade of working my way up the ladder at the Water Club, I learned about a lot more than the restaurant business. I learned about life in the greatest city in the world.
Working in that restaurant was like having a ringside seat at the wildest, most bizarre and most beautiful circus ever. The Water Club was a veritable epicurean carnival. The supermodels and the tycoons, the actresses and the hustlers, the sycophants and the pseudo-hip, the has-beens and the wannabees, all were part of the cavalcade that I was privileged to observe and serve. There are many jobs that an immigrant from Norway could land in New York City. I have always felt that I got the best. I have no idea what second best would be, but it wouldn't even be close.
Even now, as I stand on the deck of Dorothy's, overlooking the Hudson River's shimmering wavelets, I reflect upon my good fortune. I also reflect upon the fact that the "Law of Unintended Consequences" controls so much of life. That "law" is a term used by my friend, benefactor and business partner, Paul Taylor.
Paul is a lawyer, businessman and a charter member of The Pride. Indeed, it was Paul who first made me realize that there was something called "The Pride." And it was Paul who first introduced me to the Law of Unintended Consequences.
The law goes something like this — whatever your plan might be, there is always a strong probability that something is going to happen that is totally unplanned. To put it another way, one can be assured that something unplanned will occur as the result of any plan.
To put it yet another way — be prepared for the unexpected. And it was this law that introduced me to Paul in the first place. It was the law that resulted in my being a part owner and host of Dorothy's By the Sea.
Despite its cosmopolitan veneer and its ultraliberal reputation, when it comes to matters of race, New York City can be strangely conservative and segregated. As a schoolchild in Norway I read that there was a time in this country when there were signs on public restrooms, hotels and restaurants, restricting access to whites only. As an immigrant and an outsider I realize that it is easy for me to be critical because the ethnic and racial differences that we in Norway face are much greater.
Nevertheless, upon getting off my SAS flight in New York City in the late 1980s, I was certain that the racial divide about which I had learned was a thing of the past, especially in New York City. I was also certain that since all the civil rights bills had been passed there was true integration, certainly in a major international city like New York. I could not have been more wrong.
When I was working in the kitchens of various restaurants, I had no idea of what was going on outside in the serving area. A dirty plate needs washing. That was all I needed to know. However it was not too hard to notice certain realities when I started working the tables at the Water Club. The first time I could take a moment to look around it was obvious — the complexion and racial makeup of the patrons made me think I had made a wrong turn coming out of the kitchen and that I was back in Oslo. Where were the black people?
I often wondered why a question like this would even come to the mind of one of the finest sons of Bergen, Norway. And I realized that the answer was simple and so very obvious.
When I came to America, I had seen black people on virtually all the sports programs and in many movies and television shows. Black music, black fashion, and black style seemed to me to be very real aspects of American culture. As someone observing America through various media presentations, black people seemed to me to be a major and significant component of American culture, a far greater proportion than the 12 percent of the population that black people represent.
It was with a dawning realization that I finally noticed that very few black people came into the Water Club as guests. Over the years, I learned that it was not just the Water Club — it could be Lutece, the Gotham Grill, "21,"— it was almost as if someone had hung a "Whites Only" sign on the door that only blacks could see and read.
A dozen years later I am still trying to come to grips with this New York City phenomenon. Many books have been written and many books will be written about it. It correctly characterizes New York City as the most diverse and cosmopolitan city in the world. Yet this city is virtually segregated at the highest levels of commerce, culture and social intercourse.
True to the Law of Unintended Consequences, it would stand to reason that, at a place like the Water Club, the de facto segregation was noticeable. And, true to the Law of Unintended Consequences, and in a strange and almost predestined way, it would stand to reason that I would come to know Paul Taylor and learn about The Pride.
It would also stand to reason that meeting Paul and learning about The Pride would open yet another new and exciting chapter in my life.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Pride"
by .
Copyright © 2005 Wallace Ford.
Excerpted by permission of KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Also by Wallace Ford,
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS,
TRUE LOVE,
CHAPTER 1 Sture My name is not Ishmael,
CHAPTER 2 Sture Living for the City,
CHAPTER 3 Sture Now introducing ...,
CHAPTER 4 Paul Mourning in the morning,
CHAPTER 5 Paul What a tangled web ...,
CHAPTER 6 Sture Through the looking glass,
CHAPTER 7 Sture A friend in need,
CHAPTER 8 Sture Just like magic,
CHAPTER 9 Paul Get me to the church on time,
CHAPTER 10 Paul Taking that stroll down memory lane,
CHAPTER 11 Paul Showtime on Riverside,
CHAPTER 12 Paul Now about that church ...,
CHAPTER 13 Paul And so it begins,
CHAPTER 14 Paul Introducing Diedre and The Pride,
CHAPTER 15 Paul Watching the crowd,
CHAPTER 16 Diedre Reflection on a winter's day,
CHAPTER 17 Diedre More reflections,
CHAPTER 18 Sture Yet another point of view,
CHAPTER 19 Sture A view from the pew,
CHAPTER 20 Gordon Make way for Mr. Perkins,
CHAPTER 21 Gordon More about me,
CHAPTER 22 Paul Meanwhile, back at the church,
CHAPTER 23 Paul Wading in the water,
CHAPTER 24 Sture Standing in the shadows,
CHAPTER 25 Alex and Kenitra Stolen moments,
CHAPTER 26 Paul Step by step,
CHAPTER 27 Diedre Slowly I turned, step by step,
CHAPTER 28 Diedre Come one, come all,
CHAPTER 29 Paul A journey of a thousand miles begins,
CHAPTER 30 Paul Stepping up to the plate,
CHAPTER 31 Paul Oh happy day,
CHAPTER 32 Diedre She who hesitates ...,
CHAPTER 33 Diedre The revolution will not be televised,
CHAPTER 34 Diedre Don't go breaking my heart,
CHAPTER 35 Diedre We're on the right track now,
CHAPTER 36 Gordon Slipping into darkness,
CHAPTER 37 Gordon Life's little pleasures,
CHAPTER 38 Jerome Don't look back,
CHAPTER 39 Jerome Welcome to the Law of Unintended Consequences,
CHAPTER 40 Jerome Charmaine,
CHAPTER 41 Jerome Raymond Russell Beard III,
CHAPTER 42 Jerome Berta's story,
CHAPTER 43 Jerome Bad moon rising,
CHAPTER 44 Jerome Something about Raymond ...,
CHAPTER 45 Sture Meanwhile, some things never change,
CHAPTER 46 Paul My mind is a camera,
CHAPTER 47 Diedre E. Frederic Morrow,
CHAPTER 48 Paul Remembering Bobby Coles,
CHAPTER 49 Paul Welcome to my world,
CHAPTER 50 Paul This old house of mine,
CHAPTER 51 Paul Something's cooking,
CHAPTER 52 Paul Someone's in the kitchen ...,
CHAPTER 53 Paul Samantha on my mind ...,
CHAPTER 54 Paul This is my beloved,
CHAPTER 55 Paul Getting to know all about you,
CHAPTER 56 Gordon The Dark Lord,
CHAPTER 57 Gordon Night hunting,
CHAPTER 58 Diedre She works hard for the money,
CHAPTER 59 Diedre Dinner is served,
CHAPTER 60 Diedre Getting down to business,
CHAPTER 61 Diedre We're on the right track now,
CHAPTER 62 Diedre Flying high in the friendly skies,
CHAPTER 63 Paul All the news that fits ...,
CHAPTER 64 Paul It's the same old song,
CHAPTER 65 Paul Don't play that song for me,
CHAPTER 66 Paul If I ever had a dream before ...,
CHAPTER 67 Paul Shared painâ&8364;"shared tears,
CHAPTER 68 Paul Pieces of a man,
CHAPTER 69 Paul Jagged jigsaw pieces,
CHAPTER 70 Paul What a difference a day makes,
CHAPTER 71 Gordon Hot fun in the summertime,
CHAPTER 72 Paul That's the way of the world,
CHAPTER 73 Jerome When you wish upon a star ...,
CHAPTER 74 Diedre Some enchanted evening ...,
CHAPTER 75 Diedre Slipping into darkness,
CHAPTER 76 Diedre Once I had a secret love ...,
CHAPTER 77 Paul Now I shout it to the highest hills,
CHAPTER 78 Paul A word with Edwina,
CHAPTER 79 Paul Ain't no stopping us now,
CHAPTER 80 Gordon Smiling faces ... sometimes ... they don't tell the truth,
CHAPTER 81 Gordon If there's a hell below ...,
CHAPTER 82 Diedre Have I told you that I love you?,
CHAPTER 83 Sture Don't tell me I'm dreamin',
CHAPTER 84 Kenitra What's the deal — what's happenin'?,
CHAPTER 85 Diedre As we stroll along together ...,
CHAPTER 86 Jerome Keep your eyes on the prize,
CHAPTER 87 Jerome Circle the wagons,
CHAPTER 88 Jerome Mine eyes have seen the glory ...,
CHAPTER 89 Diedre Who knows what evil lurks ...,
CHAPTER 90 Paul The natives are restless,
CHAPTER 91 Paul Way down yonder in New Orleans,
CHAPTER 92 Gordon Crosstown traffic,
CHAPTER 93 Diedre When the hunter gets captured by the game ...,
CHAPTER 94 Sture Hot fun in the summertime,
CHAPTER 95 Sture If these walls could talk ...,
CHAPTER 96 Paul Stolen moments,
CHAPTER 97 Diedre Storm clouds are gathering,
CHAPTER 98 Diedre Picking up the pieces,
CHAPTER 99 Diedre Imitation of madness,
CHAPTER 100 Paul Excuse me while I kiss the sky,
CHAPTER 101 Gordon The circle of life,
CHAPTER 102 Diedre Sunflower,
CHAPTER 103 Paul Somewhere beyond the sea,