A whisper could be
heard as clearly as a cannon in the horrified silence that followed. Then, far
down at the foot of the table, a slender matron in a sequined gown leaned into
the ear of her neighbor, Mrs. Gussie Busch, and whispered.
"If I were
Gussie," she hissed, "I'd fire the son of a bitch."
Marian Caray, a
black-haired woman seated to Gussie's left at the head of the table, came up
from her chair with fists clenched and dark eyes flashing. "Did I hear you
call my husband a son of a bitch?" she demanded.
came the reply. "I was talking about the stableboy."
"You are not
telling the truth," snapped Marian.
"Shall we have
after-dinner drinks in the living room?" Mrs. Busch interrupted
As the guests
filed into the living room a member of the Cardinal board of directors, Mark D.
Eagleton, drew alongside Caray and said, "I admire your guts, Harry, but I
don't know about your judgment. I hope things work out all right." Next,
Robert Baskowitz Sr., a glass manufacturer who sold bottles to Anheuser-Busch,
sidled up and said, "Harry, it took a lotta guts. Good luck."
said Caray to himself, "there's gotta be some good jobs around
somewhere." To his wife he sighed, "Come on, Marian. Let's get out of
here." Then, suddenly, he heard Busch's rasping voice bellow at him.
hell do you think you're going?"
home. I got indigestion."